“You’re not one of those. A mage. Why, that was what last night was all about. No! I won’t believe it!”
For a minute or more she muttered to herself over and over until the horror in her voice was replaced by a firm determination.
“Right. Ellinca, dear, I won’t ask about the...details. There is obviously a very good reason for your behavior. But, no matter what anyone else tells you, you are not one of...those.” Beth pursed her lips. She brought up a handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes. “Come here.”
They embraced for a long moment before Ellinca broke away. Her own eyes watered. She sniffed. “Beth, I have to go now, the sooner the better.” She made herself smile. “I could be back in the morning. I just need to make sure of something.”
Without saying anything, Beth glanced at the full haversack and the sack Pascolli carried. She shoved the wolfsbane ball at Pascolli. “Keep this. I can make more. Don’t store it next to food. Aconite is a deadly poison and it’ll leak out through the perforations in the ball. Come. We’re going to the larder box.” This was where most of the provisions were kept at the back of the wagon.
She shooed them both before her and out the tent.
Within half an hour they stood among trees in the shadows at the edge of the clearing. Ellinca looked away to her left at the bright circle of the campfires. The clink of glasses and the laughing and talking carried clearly – Jerome and Kurt and a few of the villagers. It felt like a line went from her to that bright circle, to the laughing people, and it pulled at her heart, stretched thin and near to snapping.
They both had haversacks now and packed into several of Hushwell’s Patented Weatherproof Containers were dried and smoked foods, various ointments and salves and potions, and everything else Beth could think to cram into them. A dented small sword of Kurt’s was strapped to Pascolli’s side while she was armed with the long dagger and the sling Jerome used on small game.
She could use it, too, though not on anything small and furry, unless they were very hungry. Big and furry, sharp-fanged skagwolves were another matter.
It was clear Pascolli expected to follow her wherever she ended up going. He and Beth must think she needed a babysitter. This may be dangerous, and here I am involving my best friend.
“Take care,” whispered Beth. “Pascolli, my boy, if that bandage I put on slips, you’ll have to redo it.” She took Pascolli’s and Ellinca’s hands in her own. “And listen. I’ve put a list of names in the pack. Whichever way you go, there are people who will help you. Those with marks against them are true friends. Trust them.”
“Beth.” She sighed. Saying this made everything seem too real. “I can’t. It might endanger them, and you.”
“No one will know I gave this to you. Use it if you must. Throw it away if you have to! Besides, I’ll be seeing you both tomorrow morning, won’t I?”
Her plump cheeks quivered a little and Ellinca knew she held back her emotions.
Ellinca kissed her and hugged her quickly. “Goodbye, Beth.”
Pascolli leaned over and did the same.
“Both of you take care.”
By agreement she and Pascolli were going to avoid the roads where possible. Right now people seemed more dangerous than any animal. They hitched their packs into more comfortable positions and set off into the dark forest.
Chapter 6
Prey
Though there was no moon that night, Ellinca soon grew accustomed to the forest’s darkness. With no brothers or sisters, she had often gone hunting with her father at night. In the settled farming area where she’d been born the nearest wolves were of the ordinary, smaller and less aggressive type. Unless one was badly injured they were of no danger to humans. In fact her father had sometimes hunted them. He had sold the pelts for good money when traders came through.
She remembered the faint smell of death from pelts in the storage shed behind the farm house. Once she had ventured inside and run her hands over the topmost pelt of one of the piles. The fur had still been as soft as a cat’s against her hand, but what had been warm and pulsing was now cold. Death seemed a poor alternative to life. At least the hares and rabbits were eaten. She understood this was a part of the way of nature. Everything ate something else. Yet wolves weren’t eaten; instead these panting, galloping creatures that had once tussled and rolled with each other as puppies were turned into pieces of cold hair.
Sometimes on the hunts she had concealed the animal spoor and said nothing when her father had gone in the wrong direction.
Her feet in their thin shoes began to remember the way of walking in forests and the sounds of their passing quietened. She glanced at Pascolli, surprised at how easily he had adapted to their surroundings. A deer might make a little less noise than they did, but not by much.
“Psst. Pascolli.”
He stopped and turned.
“The road that skirts that lake will be up ahead. Shall we follow it to the encampment?”
There was not enough light for signing. He took one of her hands and tapped out his reply on the back. It was a slower way to fingertalk but it worked in the dark.
“Y-e-s. C-l-o-s-e. B-u-t n-o-t o-n r-o-a-d.”
She thought she understood. They would follow the road, keeping to the fringes of the forest.
Around them the small noises of the night told stories of their own. Tiny scattering paw steps ran past, pursued by the heavier tread of a predator before ending in a series of violent thumps and squeaks. Once or twice a large creature, immune to attack by the smaller others, lurched past. Owls and night-birds called haunting songs to each other. A few times, after a particularly loud series of thrashing thumps, the forest fell into a frightening total silence.
Again, in the distance came a series of uneven thuds as though some creature walked awkwardly. She crouched low, listening intently, straining to hear whatever had caused it. Pinpointing where it was, and where it was going, seemed important. Silence answered her.
A shape that resembled a large dog, ears up and alert, congealed from the darkness then melted away into a crisscross mass of leaves and branches. She peered, took a few steps, held her breath, listened again. Nothing. The night noises returned.
Ellinca frowned. Nothing at all, and Pascolli was getting ahead.
Soon after that they found the dirt road. On the other side of it were a few yards of underbrush before the ground dropped away to the lake. At times she could hear the splashing of water and the croaking of frogs. They slowed their pace. It was harder to travel quietly on the fringes, as small bushes grew densely here. The competition for light stopped most of the grasses and shrubs from growing deeper in the forest.
Pascolli reached back and gripped her sleeve. “S-t-o-p,” he tapped.
The sound of many horses clopping along the road came to her. They crouched low. Round the curve of the road to the left came a column of horsemen, four abreast and fully armed and armored. Though they carried no naked torches several of the outer riders held aloft swamp gas-sticks which gave off a weak yellow-green glow. As they drew alongside where she lay in the long grass, Ellinca recognized a few of the Finder’s men. Their faces looked weary and dirt-smeared, and many of the horses trotted with their heads hung low.
In the third rank back, the Finder and the lieutenant rode side by side, deep in conversation. On Hilas Frope’s shoulder perched the little lizard, its eyes gleaming. It turned its head toward her. She tried to shrink closer to the earth.
“At least now we know that dogs are a hopeless cause,” the Finder said as he passed their hiding spot. “Won’t track a bludvoik, and will most likely run the other way.” All the while, as he rode farther away, his lizard stared after her.
She heard Pascolli give a sharp hiss and she glared at him, wishing she could kick his shins but afraid to move.
Something walked up quietly and matter-of-factly and lay down between her and Pascolli, shuffling as if to make itself comfortable. Fear jolted through her, held her still as
ice. She blinked in amazement. It was the tuskdog – Gangar. Pascolli saw him too, and inched away.
Gangar huffed little breaths of warm air and peered with his piggy eyes at the procession of horses. With difficulty she ignored him. There were more important things.
The riders must be returning to the encampment. Had Mr. Jubb given the Finder the photo? Probably not. Gods, please not. Perhaps she could persuade him to hide it, or burn it. Yes, that would be best. He would see reason.
The rearguard trotted past. At least fifty men had gone on altogether. With some trepidation she leaned over the tuskdog and tugged on Pascolli’s sleeve to get him to draw back into the forest. Then she froze as a lonely clop-clop-clop reached her ears.
From around the bend came someone riding a small horse. An owl glided overhead, letting out a soft tu-whee and the horse jagged sideways. Before both horse and rider could plunge into the forest, the rider pulled on the reins to bring it back to the right heading.
Ellinca rose from where she had been crouching and stepped onto the road. She felt the stir of breeze as Pascolli tried to grab her but ignored him. She knew who this must be – Mr. Jubb. He sat astride the same nerve-wracked mount as before. She waved him down, hoping the horse wouldn’t shy and trample her and Mr. Jubb wouldn’t think her some bandit aiming to rob him.
“Mr. Jubb!” she whispered. It didn’t seem wise to shout. Sounds could carry a long way at night and the soldiers were not that far ahead. She glanced behind. The tuskdog trotted away into the tree line, limping whenever he put weight on his injured leg. So she hadn’t healed him completely. Where was he going now?
“Ah. Ellinca! Why are you here? Thought you’d be gone by now.” He held a hand to his ribs. “Oh, I ache everywhere. That blasted lieutenant would have to up and follow after the Finder as soon as we reached camp.”
“Shhh.” She beckoned him to the side of the road. When his mount seemed inclined to go elsewhere, Pascolli grasped the noseband, holding the horse still. “How long can we talk? Will someone come back to check on you?”
“Oh. I don’t know. They do seem to be exasperated with me. I don’t like being this far back. Things, you know... Might come out of there.” He waved a lace-bedecked hand at the forest. Then he brightened. “We haven’t caught it yet and I would like a photo. A real live bludvoik!”
“D-e-a-d. S-u-r-e-l-y,” tapped Pascolli. His grin still showed in the poor light.
What? Had he made a joke? She frowned at him.
“Mr. Jubb. I need to talk with you. I’ve seen the photo. My fingers were blue. What does it mean? I need you to tell me clearly.” Her heart pounded so hard her chest ached. She wanted, yet didn’t want, the answers.
For once Mr. Jubb began cautiously. “I...don’t exactly know, the blue effect on the photo, on your fingers. Never seen it before, but my conclusion is that it must be an effect of some magience field.”
Ellinca’s heart missed a beat.
“But as for what sort of magience? Good, or bad? I don’t know.”
What did he mean? Illegal wild magience surely meant mage, meant bad. “Am I a...”
“A mage? Once again, I don’t know.”
“Isn’t all illegal magience bad?”
He harrumphed. “Good question, very good. Some people, and I’m not naming names, some people think that trinketologists, needle masters and herbologists and so on...” He squirmed in the saddle. “Some think that what they do is not that different.”
It was a statement that turned Ellinca’s world upside down. “But, how can that be?”
“Ah. Yes. A rose is a rose by any other name. Just don’t tell anyone that I said that.”
A rose is a rose? “You mean don’t tell the Finder?”
“Oh, no. Never tell him! You’ll get me beheaded!” He laughed nervously. “And now, my dear. You should be off. Um. He has the photo.”
So, too late, but then why should she have expected Mr. Jubb to risk himself for her sake? He barely knew her. She should be, and was, grateful for what he had done.
“Has he seen it in good light?” Pascolli signed to her a few inches from her nose.
She nodded. “The Finder’s been away, Mr. Jubb. Has he looked at it yet, in good light?”
Mr. Jubb gently took the reins back from Pascolli and sat up straighter in the saddle. Other horses could be heard. Someone returned.
“He’s seen enough. He’s returning for more men who aren’t exhausted from chasing undead through the forest for days. The blue shows up very well, by swamp gas light, though the color is somewhat distorted.” He hesitated. “Sir Alexander Blissman in Carstelan might be of help to you. Farewell. Good luck.”
With that he turned the horse and trotted onward. Miraculously they traveled in a straight line. With Pascolli beside her Ellinca dashed back into the concealing forest. They knelt there unmoving, waiting, as two riders approached Mr. Jubb. These soldiers would likely be skilled at night tracking and might notice odd sounds or movements.
“Mr. Jubb,” called one of them. “You must keep up or we can’t keep you safe.”
“Wait on. Shh. What was that?” said the other. “There, by the edge.” He pointed directly at Ellinca.
How could he see her? She tried to crouch even lower. The horseman threw something. A glowing ball arced against the starry sky and landed on the road a few yards away. It flared brightly. She could feel heat on her skin.
“You! Stop there!” They spurred toward her. Mr. Jubb, wisely, if with some cowardice, cantered off up the road.
“Run!” She lurched to her feet. In the dark between the trees the men would be forced to slow or find themselves or their mounts injured. She stumbled backward from the unexpected weight of her pack. For a flashing second she thought to dump the haversack, but she knew she would never find it again. Besides, the strap around her waist would take time to loosen. The horsemen drew closer. She could hear the rasping breath of their horses. Pascolli yanked her down again. She fell backward with arms flailing.
“What!” They were lost. No time to escape. Had Pascolli betrayed her?
She rolled onto her stomach. Between her and the road, where nothing had been before, a man-shaped thing rose, blocking out the light. At rest it might be mistaken for human but when it moved she saw there was a terrible wrongness about it. The thing reached and snagged the leg of the closest rider, wrenching him from the saddle as if he were made from feathers. The attacker wrapped itself around him and followed him to the ground.
The second horseman overshot and pulled up fast, his horse’s head thrown up as it clattered to a halt. He almost overran Ellinca. Dirt spattered about her eyes from the strike of the hooves. He hauled on the reins, gasping as if panic-stricken, turning. He galloped back to his companion. With his long saber flashing arcs of reflected light he slashed down again and again and again at the writhing mass on the ground. Screams from man and horse split the night. There were crunches, wet thumps and the awful cracking of bone. The first horse galloped off.
The thing grabbed at the saber and the second horseman crashed to earth with a thud and a jingle of harness. His horse fled also. For a flurry of desperate seconds he fought, and then was still. Slowly the thing rose to its feet. It looked at Ellinca.
This time she said nothing. She simply turned and ran.
No time. No time. No time. The words streamed through her head as she ran. You have to think. Think. Think! But how could she when it was after them? Now she recognized the stumbling walk. This was surely the other strange noise in the dark. Or had it been the tuskdog? Where was the tuskdog? They could do with help. Though with its lame leg it would probably be too slow to keep up.
Leaves and small branches whipped across her face. Pascolli sprinted alongside her. Thud. Thud. Thud. Their feet hit the ground. Soon each breath she took was rasping through her throat and her chest heaved like a blacksmith’s bellows. Her legs began to ache then pain her, and then it became agony.
Where was it? Unl
ess she stopped she couldn’t tell. She wasn’t stopping. A series of saplings snapped with loud cracks as they were flattened. She would run and run until her legs gave out. Soldiers with their swords, strength and skill could not stop that thing. How could she? Something trickled down her face, blood or tears, either was possible.
Ahead, light pierced the gaps between the trees. The second moon had risen and its slim crescent hung in the sky like a rare piece of jewelry. A breeze cut across her skin. The trees ran out and she skidded to a teetering halt on the sloping top of a high embankment.
At least two long yards below the Juba River gurgled past, its surface jammed with logs gleaming moonlight silver. Each log was immense and must have been sawn from the tallest and most ancient of trees.
There was a gasp then a sickening crump behind her. The short sword Pascolli had carried whirred in a blur past her head, landing somewhere below in the river. She spun to see Pascolli tumbling, sliding, limbs flopping, down the bank toward her. He must have run into a tree. And she knew what had distracted him. The man-thing, the bludvoik, shambled into view.
Ellinca lunged for Pascolli and tried to lift him. He was conscious but dazed. With his haversack on he was too heavy and she cried out in frustration, cursing and vowing to never again tie the packs on with the waist strap. At the noise the bludvoik swung its lifeless head her way. If she jumped alone Pascolli would be killed. If she took him with her he might drown.
The tuskdog emerged from the forest some twenty or more yards farther along the bank. It stopped suddenly with its legs propped stiff then lay flat on its stomach, nose resting on front paws, eyes firmly fixed on the bludvoik.
So much for brave tuskdogs. Swiftly she rolled Pascolli to the edge, gave him a last push and leaped out after him.
They both landed on the same log. It rolled, threatening to either toss them into the water or crush them between it and the next log. The stub of a branch caught against another and they rocked to a halt. Crawling and scrabbling for holds on the bark, Ellinca reached Pascolli where he sprawled on his back. He groaned and lifted his head.
Magience: second edition Page 6
