The Way of the Blade

by Stuart Jaffe

  “This is a snake-well,” he said. “A source of power that gives the Scarites a chance to regain their homes.”

  “It looks like the Great Well.”

  “They are the same. All the Great Wells in Carsite link to the same source of power. This well does so, too. The only difference is that I formed this one instead of waiting for one to form naturally in this area. This is what may save these people.”

  “How? By creating more magic where only a little existed before?”

  “Only a little? It’s always been here. All of it.” Harskill clasped his arms behind his back and paced around the edge of the well. “Magic is nothing more than the ability to harness the unseen but very present energies that surround us. It takes on unique forms in every world. In your Corlin, it required the right genetic code — like Tommy, you had to be born a magician.”

  “And the tattoos?”

  “The body behaves in strange ways when in contact with magic. It’s not something I can predict, though some Gate believe it can be figured out. I’ve seen many variations on many worlds.”

  “But the Bluesmen and Cole Watts —”

  “You don’t pay attention. Magic is merely tapping into energies that are already present. The Bluesmen learned how, through music, they could resonate the frequencies they needed to control some of that energy. Cole Watts tried to generate raw power from old magic through her machines. The Great Wells are conduits to the magic of this world.”

  “And yet here it’s snakes. Why did you make it snakes?” Malja leaned over the edge, peering deeper in to the well.

  “I did not make anything. I merely unlocked what was already there. In this case, snakes. And I’d be careful. There’s a mother snake living in there.”

  Malja stepped back. “Mother snake?”

  “In order for me to create an artificial well, I needed a common, living force that would unite my wells. These snakes are everywhere, and since the natural form of magic in this world is through the wells in the ground, I figured the snakes would be close enough to the ground to matter. But it could have been anything. Why tattoos in Corlin and not birthmarks or welts? Why does The Bluesmen’s music not create tattoos? Magic creates different outcomes based on the way it reaches these natural energies. Here, perhaps the Scarite landscape has different minerals in the ground, or perhaps the makeup of the Scarites interacts with the magic in a strange way, or countless other factors. Each world has its unique properties, and there’s far stranger to be found. I’d love to show you.”

  Malja made a bitter face. “I’d rather find a place with no magic at all.”

  “They exist. They’re rare but they do exist.”

  “What are they like?”

  “Who cares? There’s nothing worth seeing in a place like that.” Harskill led the way back to the dining hall.

  “So, what happens if the mother-snake dies?”

  Harskill’s bemused chuckle carried a dark undertone. “You’re not very subtle.”

  “Direct often gets results.”

  “Not as often as you’d think. And to answer your question — I don’t know exactly. These wells are conduits, not a source of magic. Stop the conduit and the magic stops. What happens then — every world is different. If you kill the mother-snake, you might create a Devastation right here. I can see I’ve not convinced you, yet.”

  “I’ll admit the situation is more complex than I realized.”

  “They always are.”

  “But the Scarites seem to be exacting vengeance, and that is no way to live.”

  Harskill looked as if he had more to say, but Ten Snakes entered the room. Malja dropped into a fighting stance, ready to take hold of Viper, if necessary. Ten Snakes narrowed his eyes, and his snakes moved with an agitated stiffness, but instead of attacking, he walked up to Harskill and whispered in the man’s ear.

  “Please, finish your lunch. And if you will indulge me, stay the night. I’ll have you given a secure place to stay. We can have dinner together, and perhaps I’ll be able to convince you then. If not, I’ll arrange for a talionog to return you to Carsite.”

  Never taking her eyes off Ten Snakes, Malja settled in her seat. “One night,” she said.

  “Thank you.” Harskill turned on his heel and briskly left the dining hall with Ten Snakes following behind.

  Malja dug into her food. She would need all the strength she could get tonight. As she ate, she worked out the details of how she would kill Harskill and escape before morning.

  Chapter 20

  Javery

  Javery had flown straight to his parent’s home, a two-story farmhouse sitting on the tip of Dralon Sky Island — a once vibrant orchard that died out when Wyle Dralon passed away. Shual bought the place (at a steep discount because, after all, people always wanted to be on Shual’s good side) and presented it to his wife shortly after Javery had moved out of their plain home on the surface. When he landed near the front door, he stared at the house, shaking his head and kneading his fingers into the autofly’s seat.

  A few minutes later, he flew away and headed for his home on the surface. Since leaving Tommy, he had spent the day reliving each betrayal until he collapsed on his bed. Whenever he reached the end of the events in his mind, he came to the same conclusion — he had to protect the town, and to do that, he had to warn Shual of what he had heard.

  He won’t listen.

  Javery’s stomach rumbled. He sat up to find the day had gone. Grabbing his hat, he walked down the street and stopped at The Well — one of only three places to eat and drink without having to cook at home, and one he would not see Fawbry or Tommy at since the town’s young women rarely visited the place.

  As he entered, he saw that one-handed freak, Fawbry, standing at the center of a circle of men. “I promise you, Malja will return,” Fawbry said. “She’s always got a plan, and even when we don’t see the whole picture, I’ve learned that she’s always one to place your bets with. And it’s not like she left you without help. Tommy and I are here to aid you. We’ve had a lot of experience with this sort of thing.” The men surrounding him rubbed their faces and nodded.

  Javery left, his fingers curling into fists and then opening wide. No choice, now. He walked straight to his autofly and flew to Shual’s home. When he landed, he left the autofly immediately. He didn’t want to give his brain a chance to turn him around again.

  When he entered the foyer, he saw the door down the hall close. His mother. No matter. She cared for him less than Shual. After his childhood, after Harskill arrived, after Ronnic’s death — she never recovered.

  He climbed the stairs and walked to Shual’s study, the only room with a light on. A revered room that many men shivered at the thought of entering. Important advice, grave decisions, and even plans for war had all occurred in the confines of the study’s walls.

  When he reached the doorway, Javery saw Shual leaning close to Krunlo. They studied a map. Krunlo noticed Javery first.

  “I’m stunned at how you’ve grown,” he said. “You were only a child when I last saw you.” Krunlo’s warm smile faded as he watched Javery’s face. “Perhaps I should leave for a bit. You look like you have something important to discuss with your father.”

  Shual looked up from the map. “Come back tomorrow. Krunlo and I must plan for the Scarites.”

  “No,” Javery said. “You can plan later.”

  Krunlo picked up the map and rolled it. “Shual, I’ll go study this downstairs. When you finish, we can discuss more.”

  Shual said, “It’s not necessary.”

  “It is. A man should always make time to deal with his sons.”

  When Krunlo left, Shual settled behind his desk. “I hear you and that Druzane woman are no longer together.”

  Javery tried to hide his shock. Gossip moved quickly, but the way Shual said it made Javery think he had known long before. “Then do you know that Canto is the one she betrayed me with? That the man you put in charge, the man who was
to marry your daughter, in doing this has betrayed you as well? Do you know about Malja, too? That she’s betrayed us all by running off to Harskill?”

  Shual closed his book, held its spine near his nose as he thought, and then carefully placed it on the desk. Javery wanted to scream at the old man, shock him into action, but after a lifetime of dealing with Shual, he knew when to hold back.

  “Ever since you were a little boy, you’ve been like this. Every slight against you is a betrayal against anyone that you might sway to your side.” Shual looked at the shelves of books and the papers on his desk and the paintings on the walls — everywhere but at Javery. “I thought you would outgrow this paranoia, this cowardice behavior, but you never did.”

  “I am not paranoid or a coward. This town is in trouble, and you’re not doing enough to save it.”

  “From what? The Scarites? A bunch of snake-backed fools.”

  “Are you mad? You know what they’re capable of. Or have you forgotten the death of your daughter so quickly?”

  Shual’s eyes snapped to Javery. “You know nothing of tactics, strategy, or war. You know nothing of politics or people.”

  “If you had supported me with my Waypoint system—”

  “Oh, another betrayal, is it? Real leaders don’t get betrayed because they earn the support of those around them. Your Waypoint system might be a great idea, and in fact, I think it has a lot of potential, but you have never shown the leadership necessary to make it work. That’s why you couldn’t get anybody to support it. Not because of me. You’ve been so convinced that becoming a leader of these people was your birthright that you’ve never learned a thing about leading. That’s why you failed.”

  Javery slammed his fists on Shual’s desk. “How am I to learn when you refused to teach me?”

  “You want to know why I didn’t teach you, why Canto is in charge and not you? Because you are nothing but a disappointment. Because all my dearest children have died, and Pali plays a cruel joke on me by letting you live.”

  With one sweeping motion, Javery cleared Shual’s desk and leaped onto his father. He lifted the old man and threw him against the bookshelves. Tears streamed from Javery’s eyes as he punched Shual once in the stomach. As fast as the rage came on, it dissipated, and Javery stood over Shual, breathing hard, face wet with tears, fists shaking.

  Blood trailed from a cut on Shual’s head. The old man pointed a crooked finger at Javery. “If there ever was a Pali Witch, she resides in your soul. You are evil. And nothing evil can be in this town, in this land, with my people.”

  “Father, please, I’m sorry. I just lost my temper. It’s been a trying day.”

  “Leave us, Witch. Leave this land and never return. I banish you from Carsite.”

  “But Father —”

  “If I could do it, I’d banish you from the entire world.”

  The hatred in Shual’s eyes scorched Javery’s skin. Javery stepped backwards out of the office, unable to turn away from the horrible look in those eyes.

  “Go!” Shual said.

  Javery punched the hallway wall, creating a small hole. He charged down the stairs, barreling past a confused Krunlo, and threw open the front door. Glancing back one last time, he caught sight of his mother peeking from the door down the hall. They held each other’s gaze for a moment, but Javery could not tell if she wanted to hold him to her breast and apologize or spit on the floor and curse him forever.

  He hissed at her until she closed the door. “You’re the cowards! You’re the evil here!” He kicked at the porch railing as he went down to the autofly. “You think you have the power to stop the gods from destroying everyone, but you don’t. You move your pieces on the gameboard and you don’t even know what game you’re playing.” He looked upon the dark windows on the second floor. He thought he saw movement of somebody watching him. “Why do you spy on me from up there? Don’t you even have the courage to stand by your great power? You exile me but I’m still here. You spy on me, hoping I’ll go away like some exorcised spirit, but I’m still here. You have no power.”

  Javery’s face chilled as he whispered his thoughts. “If I had power, real power, like Tommy and Harskill, I wouldn’t need to grovel here.” His eyes shot back up at the house. “You think I’m evil? When does an evil man sacrifice himself to save all the people? Could you do that? I can. I will.”

  He climbed into his autofly and took off. Even if she was no more than a legend, the island was real. And legends were born from some sort of truth. Something had to be there that created the fear of an entire people. But a spark in his heart told him she was there, watching and waiting. She wanted the right man to come to her.

  “I’m on my way,” he said and turned towards the island of Pali, home of the witch.

  Chapter 21

  Malja

  Slices of moonlight cut through her bedroom window. Not much, though. Enough to see by but plenty dark to find lots of shadowy hiding places. Malja would need those when the alarms sounded.

  She set Viper on the fluffy bed and spent a little time staring at it. What an exquisite weapon. So beautiful, so deadly. She hesitated to pick it up.

  This killing wouldn’t be like others. This, she feared, might be murder.

  It shouldn’t be. She had killed countless men before who had transgressed far less than Harskill. She had paid her honor to those who died just as Uncle Gregor had taught her to do. She even learned the fruitlessness in vengeance, and worked hard to only take a life when no other choice could be made. Yet, here she stood before Viper, once more planning to assassinate a man. Only this time, she questioned herself.

  Perhaps that only proved her humanity — well, her humanness, at least.

  She lifted Viper and sharpened its inner-crescent. Harskill had told her that the Carsites became the oppressors after years of suffering as the oppressed. Why would they do that?

  “Why wouldn’t they?” she muttered. Because, under an honest light, all people want to exact revenge when they’ve been wronged. Some are strong enough to overcome this basic desire, but it still burns within all.

  Except it’s more than that.

  When a people suffering humiliation and destruction suddenly gain power, they always vow never to let such a tragedy happen again. Never again, they say, and in those two simple words, they head down a path that turns them into their enemy. Each little step may be filled with logic — restrictions to protect the people, harsher sentences to dissuade the enemy from reforming, curfews and stronger policing to curb the tide of criminals — but the end result cannot be denied. They are that which they despise.

  As Malja turned to sharpening Viper’s outer-crescent, she considered her own actions. Prepping to kill Harskill, even to save the Carsites, seemed full of hypocrisy — killing to stop killing. Could Fawbry be right?

  Yet wasn’t this the whole point of leaving Corlin? To find and kill Harskill? To prevent him from using his power as Gate to take control of the universe?

  She spun Viper before settling it in its sheath. She stretched her legs and arms, worked out a kink in her back, and cracked her neck and knuckles. Leave the thinking to Fawbry. She had a mission to accomplish and a world to save. If she stopped now, if she gave up on these people simply because Harskill created a moral quandary, then she would never be able to help any world. Harskill would win without any fight.

  Malja took a cleansing breath and put her ear to the door. She closed her eyes and listened. Heavy breathing — not sleeping but certainly overweight, shuffling feet, a cough. Two guards, one on each side of the door.

  She slapped her hand flat on the door. “I need some help in here.”

  No answer.

  With a fist, she pounded on the door. “Please. Some help.”

  No answer.

  She rolled her eyes. “Look, I can’t find any clean clothes and I’m soaking wet and there’s nothing to dry off with, so unless you want me to be naked and dripping all night, I need someone to show me �
��”

  The door locks clicked, and one guard stepped in. His lascivious mouth only spurred Malja to move faster. She never wanted to hear what sick thoughts he could express, if given the chance.

  She jammed Viper’s handle into the guard’s extended gut. He let out an Oaf! and doubled over. As she brought up her knee, the second guard entered the room in time to see blood spray upward from the first guard’s nose.

  The second guard’s two snakes lifted up like wings and spit a yellowish liquid at Malja. She twirled to the right and heard the first guard scream as some of the liquid sizzled into the back of his head. The second guard reacted to his partner’s pain by ceasing the attack and reaching out to help. Malja grabbed the door frame, jumped into the air, and kicked the second guard in the temple with her heel.

  He tumbled down, clutching his head, and rolling on the floor. Before the first guard could pull himself together, Malja hit the base of his head with Viper’s hilt and the man went down. Two more rapid taps finally knocked the first guard unconscious.

  The second guard started to shake off the attack, but Malja had more than an advantage now. She leaped on the man, and he flailed his hands in a startled and pointless defense. She knocked him out even easier than the first.

  After dragging them into a closet, she propped a chair under the door handle. Then she headed down the hall, away from the main lobby. Too many guards stood between her and Harskill, if she took that route. But the servant’s halls might go unnoticed.

  Keeping low and to the dark, she slid from one hall to the other. They had become more rounded, more tunnel-like, than the formal architecture of the public rooms. They also curved in such a way that she swore the tunnels were turning back on themselves. She didn’t like the thought, but she couldn’t erase the fact that these tunnels looked more snake-like than anything else.

  Don’t get lost. Don’t get lost.

  The mantra guided her, forcing her to keep her internal compass pointing true. She came to a crossroads, and an amber light flickered off to the right. Pressing against the wall, she inched her way close enough to listen at what might be down that route.