Crimson Fury (Magic of Isskasala Book 2)

by Mirren Hogan

  “Why?” Darai asked.

  “Why what?”

  “Why did Adina go too?” Darai said, exasperated.

  “Oh, I’m not sure. Perhaps Sevele thought she’d be of help.”

  “Sevele will get her killed,” Darai snarled.

  “That is certainly possible,” Afruen agreed. “However, he did not fully understand what he was sending them into until after they had left. You might be unaware, but he and others have been searching the library for references to the well.”

  Darai shrugged. He thought he remembered Tabia mentioning something about that. He couldn’t quite understand the point. What could paper tell someone that looking for it yourself couldn’t?

  “So?” he asked.

  “So, they found one.” Afruen tossed the pit of his fruit out the cave entrance and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a piece of paper and unfolded it. “This is not the original, of course, it has been transcribed. The book it came from is very old and fragile. It was actually about—”

  “Get on with it,” Darai growled. If he could read well enough, he’d snatch the paper and read it himself. Not that a hunter needed to read, but it would come in useful occasionally.

  “Oh, well all right.” Afruen reached back into his pocket for a pair of spectacles. He put them on and squinted at the page. “It reads as follows: ‘The heart of magic’s blood pools westerly, where dragon wings dip at dawn and waters flow from stone to dust. The heart is sealed to aught but magic’s hardest thrust.’”

  “Oh my, the writer was provocative.” Afruen chuckled.

  “And it goes on—‘Earth, air, blood, spirit, none shall live but all who possess the skill to enter the heart.’”

  Darai waited, but Afruen folded the paper back up and put it away. “That’s it?”

  “Yes, that is all of it. Quite interesting, do you not think?” He looked over his spectacles at Darai before removing them.

  “No, I don’t think. It’s meaningless.” He should have known the sorcerer would only waste his time. He could have caught and cooked a nice, fat rabbit by now.

  “Not at all.” Afruen sighed and pulled the paper back out. “The heart of magic is obviously the well. We already know it is somewhere in the west, the magula told Tabia as much. This gives us more clues than that, though.”

  Darai frowned. “Dragon wings?” He looked out toward the ones still sunning themselves. One opened an eye a slit, as if it knew he was talking about it.

  “Quite,” Afruen agreed.

  “Water flows from stone to dust. The road to Chaq was dusty, the trees were covered in it.”

  “I remember.” Afruen grimaced.

  “So the well is here?” That seemed far too coincidental.

  “Oh no, I doubt it. The well is in Iljosk and we are just inside the Chaqian border. However, the river you were following originates in Iljosk and is a tributary of the Osk, the mouth of which is in Kalolak.”

  “So if I kept following the river, I’d end up at the well?” Darai asked.

  “I’d imagine that would be the case, yes.”

  “And the rest of it? Earth, air, blood, and spirit?”

  Afruen squinted down at the page again. “Yes, and powerful thrust.” He grinned.

  Darai ignored it. “What does it mean?” he urged.

  “It means it will take powerful sorcerers to access the well,” Afruen replied. “One powerful in earth, one in air, one in blood, and one in spirit.”

  Darai frowned. “I can spirit drift. Is that why Sevele thinks they need me?”

  “Oh, I would think so,” Afruen agreed. “But note this bit.” He pointed at the paper. “None shall live but all who possess the skill . . . ”

  It took a long moment for Darai to understand the meaning behind those words. When he did, he felt the blood drain from his face.

  CHAPTER 40

  “You think if I’m not there, they’ll all die?” Darai asked, looking the sorcerer in the eyes. Afruen returned his gaze unwaveringly. And yet, Darai was unsure of what to believe. The words came from an old book, and could mean several different things, most of which had nothing to do with him. He didn’t believe in destiny, but he did believe in people’s ability to convince themselves they saw things which weren’t really there. The book might not have been referring to the well at all, although what else “magic’s heart” might mean was anyone’s guess.

  He couldn’t discount the fact that Afruen’s coming here might simply be a ploy by the sorcerers to get him to return to the guild. Sending the man all of this way to find him did seem somewhat extreme. Perhaps they truly thought the book was referring to him, and the others. Of course, that didn’t mean they were right. The gods knew they’d been wrong before. The uneasy feeling in his stomach remained.

  “Why should I believe any of this?” he asked warily. “It seems to me that it’s a big coincidence that a spirit drifter is needed, and I just happen to be one. The only one.”

  “Oh, you are not the only one,” Afruen replied, waving a hand dismissively. “The Order of Magika in Serein has two, but they are too far away and not as powerful. Few in the guild know they exist, just Sevele and I. Each order of magic users has their secrets and as I was trained there . . . ” He must have seen the glazed look in Darai’s eyes because he stopped talking suddenly.

  “Um—” Afruen cleared his throat. “So, it is not a coincidence so much as you being in the right place at the right time. You’re needed. The girl needs you.”

  “Adina.” Saying her name made him realise how much he missed her. His heart skipped. He wasn’t convinced this wasn’t all a bush chicken chase, but Afruen knew the right words to say to evoke his deepest emotions. He clenched his teeth and pushed them aside. He couldn’t think with his heart right now; he had to be rational. He was tired of being manipulated, but it was already happening all over again.

  “You still haven’t told me why I should believe any of this,” Darai said defensively. “Some old book, random words, it’s probably nonsense.” He waved a hand to dismiss the absurd idea, but the uneasy feeling in his gut remained.

  “That is possible,” Afruen conceded. “But what have you got to lose? A week or two of following the river. You were going to do that anyway, were you not?”

  Darai shrugged. “I suppose.”

  “So, you do that, and sooner or later you will reach the well.”

  “Or not, if it isn’t there.”

  “You are not very optimistic, are you?” Afruen asked.

  “Being a harvested one does that to a person,” Darai said dryly.

  “Hmmm, interesting. Do you—perhaps that is a question for later.” The sorcerer scratched his nose. “So, let us say you find the well. You help open it and go on your way.”

  “And that’s it?” Darai asked. “They won’t want to take me back to the guild?”

  “Oh, I imagine they will,” Afruen replied. “But that will be up to you to decide. The guild does not force people to be a part of it.”

  Darai snorted “No, it just sends sorcerers to track people down.” How had he been found so easily? He’d been careful. Apparently not enough.

  “Only in extreme circumstances,” Afruen replied. “The well must be opened for the magula. We cannot assume they will find a way by themselves, so we need to find it before it is too late for them. If not, they may need to keep feeding, or they may die—the gods only know what might happen.”

  A killer monster that ate magic was not something Darai wanted to see again. His hand twitched, wanting to pick up his spear and hold it close. It was a foolish reflex and one he ignored. He had no defence against the magula, not even magic if it came to that. He’d been helpless in Dassane. Here he didn’t even have Adina to disturb the creature. However, he had Afruen. If a magula attacked, maybe he’d distract it while Darai ran. The farther he got from magula and sorcerers, the better. But if Adina really needed him—

  Of course, trying to open the well would probably
mean being in the proximity of monsters and sorcerers again. The idea of Adina facing either gave him chills. Maybe Afruen was right; he had nothing to lose. If there was no well and Adina didn’t need him, he’d at least have a chance to try to convince her to leave with him. And if she did need him—

  “All right, I’ll go,” he said.

  “Good.” Afruen jumped up. “Let us go.”

  “Us?” Darai stared at him. “You’re going too?” The idea hadn’t even crossed his mind, but now that it did, he didn’t much care for it. The man was irritating and odd, even for a sorcerer.

  “Of course,” Afruen said cheerfully. “You did not think I would miss out on all of the fun, did you? I want to see the well for myself. Besides—” He looked serious and Darai saw real concern in his eyes.

  “Ezeji is going there. If there is anything I can do to help him, then I will do it.”

  That he had very real feelings for the older sorcerer was obvious to Darai. His distaste for the man was apparently equally obvious to Afruen.

  “I know he seems harsh, but that is because you do not know him well,” the sorcerer assured him. “He is really very sweet, and he cares deeply for the guild.”

  “If you say so.”

  “I very much say so. Perhaps you will find out some day.” Afruen’s good cheer was back.

  Darai shrugged. He couldn’t imagine ever liking Ezeji, but he did have one thing going for him; he disliked Tabia as much as Darai did. He might not have the same reason for doing so, but the end result was the same. The woman was nothing but trouble and would probably see them all dead, well or no well.

  “All right then, let us step carefully past the dragons and head northeast.”

  “Do they eat people?” Darai asked, eyeing them as he walked from the cave.

  “Oh gods, I do not think so,” Afruen replied. “However, it might be best not to find out.”

  Darai couldn’t argue with that. He followed Afruen, one eye on the sorcerer, the other on the dragons. He kept his spear in his fist, ready in case he needed it, although he knew it’d be futile against a bunch of hungry, winged predators. Mother of all Gods, the spear had seemed like such a potent weapon once.

  “The book mentioned dragons,” he said softly. “Does that mean there are more out there?”

  “Good question,” Afruen replied as he stepped over a rotten log. “I do not know. It is possible, although the book was so old they could have migrated down to the lower mountains. They do not seem to care for the cold. Or rather, they are enjoying the warmth of the sun and those boulders.”

  That did seem to be true. While several dragons squinted at them, none seemed inclined to move, either toward them or away from them. Darai wondered if he’d be able to spear one, but given their resemblance to snakes, they would probably taste terrible. That was assuming they were related. Did sea serpents also look similar? Perhaps that was something he could live without knowing.

  He let out a breath of relief when they stepped back into the trees. The canopy should give them some cover against dragons and the sun.

  He squinted. They stood at the base of a steep slope. Here, the river became a waterfall, its momentum carrying it down the rocks which had been smoothed by years of wear. It might have been pretty if he was in the state of mind to pay attention to it. Right now it simply looked like an obstacle.

  “I do not suppose you learnt enough at the guild to levitate?” Afruen asked, his head back as he too, took in the sight of the slope.

  “Levitate?” Darai asked.

  Afruen sighed. “I will take that as a no. However, it could be a useful skill to learn, if you get the chance to do so.”

  “I won’t,” Darai replied, although the temptation was too great and he had to ask, “I don’t suppose that’s something you could teach me?”

  “Oh, probably not,” Afruen answered. He raised his staff. “As soon as this is not touching the ground, the magic is gone. Now if I could find a way to lift myself while keeping it grounded—” He frowned at it. “Alas, that would mean dragging it. If I suggested you draw and try to lift yourself, would that be of help?”

  Darai shrugged. “There’s nothing wrong with walking.” He started up the slope, leaving Afruen to hurry along behind him.

  “Walking is a fine pastime,” the sorcerer panted. “It will just take us a little longer.”

  Only a small part of Darai was tempted to try levitation, but it was the part that wanted Adina to be safe. Why had she left the guild in the first place? She might not have been safe there, but she had been safer than trying to seek out some magical well that probably didn’t even exist. The foolishness of the sorcerers for letting her go defied understanding. If she died—

  A flash of fury burst through him. He pictured himself storming into the guild hall, full of anger and magic. He saw himself lash out, melting faces like he’d done with Hafta. Sevele, Tabia, Ezeji, they’d all pay for what they’d done to him and Adina. He could also smell the smoke of the guildhall burning, heard the screams of sorcerers trying to flee. He could—

  “Oh, good job man!”

  Afruen’s voice brought him back to the present, and he found himself, hands clenched, floating several feet in the air. He looked down and cursed in surprise, before releasing the magic he hadn’t realised he’d drawn. He promptly dropped like a stone to the ground below.

  Darai hit hard, landing on a stump with a crack before tumbling back down the slope. He rolled over several rocks and branches, each of which slowed him painfully. He came to a stop at the base of the slope, slamming into a tree so hard it knocked the wind from him, and a dozen leaves from the tree.

  He lay there, hurting all over, struggling to regain his breath. It came back in a rush and a groan. He managed to move just enough that the trunk wasn’t digging into his side. Even thinking about the bloody sorcerers was dangerous. He cursed under his breath. He’d broken at least one bone, maybe more. Whatever he’d done to anger the gods, they had their retribution. Hopefully they were done with him for now.

  “Are you all right?” Afruen skidded to a stop beside him and knelt, peering at his face. His nose almost touched Darai’s.

  He jerked his head back and winced. “No,” Darai replied. “I think my leg’s broken. Maybe my arm too.” Mother of all Gods, he needed both, just to stay alive.

  “Hmmm. Oh, yes, good thing I’m a healer,” Afruen said.

  Darai sighed. “Of course you are.”

  Afruen grinned, apparently missing the sarcasm. “Sevele thought I might be useful later. As luck would have it, I am useful now.”

  Darai wished he didn’t look so happy about it. He cursed the gods again, for putting him in this position. He wanted to refuse to let Afruen heal him, but he knew if he did that, he couldn’t help Adina, and with a broken leg, he couldn’t hunt. While his death might be a viable alternative to dealing with magic, hers was not.

  “Is this going to hurt?” he asked between gritted teeth.

  “Oh yes, I have been told that having bones healed is extremely painful. However, I am sure you would agree that under the circumstances, we have little choice. If you like, I could give you something to take your mind off it?” He patted down the pocket on the left side of his robe, then the right.

  “Ah.” He drew out a flask. “It is very fine, but I will share if you—”

  Darai grabbed the flash, pulled the cork out with his teeth, and took a gulp. It burned like fire all the way down to his belly, but he felt a little lighter. He took another swig. Maybe if he got drunk, he could handle being in the sorcerer’s company.

  “Go easy on that,” Afruen warned. “It is potent. And also fifty coins a bottle.”

  Darai didn’t care. In fact, he took perverse pleasure in another two gulps before handing the flask back. He felt warm all over, and light-headed. Suddenly the world didn’t seem like such a bad place. It even dulled some of the pain in his limbs.

  Afruen took a sip himself and then got to
work.

  CHAPTER 41

  Darai’s head pounded. His bones were healed, scrapes and bruises all gone, which was a small mercy. Afruen hadn’t lied when he’d said it would hurt. The healing had been so excruciating, it was easily the worst thing the sorcerers had subjected him to. He might be ashamed of it now, but he’d screamed so loudly he was sure he’d heard the dragons take flight. He knew he’d scared several of the large parrots into fleeing the area.

  His back ached slightly from where he’d arched it, but it was nothing compared to the ache in his head. He could ask Afruen to heal that too, but the idea of painful healing magic near his skull was enough to harden his resolve to simply tolerate it. And to never touch alcohol again. His father had told him once that the stuff was poison and he hadn’t been wrong. Still, it had helped him through the healing and took his mind off having to climb back up the slope.

  This time, he focused on walking and not what he’d do to the guild. His uncontrolled magic had caused enough trouble for one day. He wanted to ask Afruen why he’d levitated when he’d been thinking about doing something else entirely, but he might have to explain what he’d been thinking. He didn’t feel like having that conversation; or any other for that matter. At least Afruen was quiet—

  “How are you feeling man?”

  Darai sighed. Of course it couldn’t last.

  “Fine.” Maybe he’d leave it at that. It was a small hope and quickly dashed.

  “That is good,” Afruen replied. “Sometimes healing is less successful than at other times. I once healed a man who had cut off his thumb. When I had finished healing, the thumb was facing the wrong way.”

  “Maybe you just put it on the wrong way,” Darai said, disinterested. When silence followed his remark, he glanced over at the sorcerer. He looked thoughtful.

  “That is possible,” Afruen conceded, His expression turning to embarrassment. “But sometimes a healed wound reforms and resumes bleeding. Healing, like any magic, is not precise.”