The Way of the Blade

by Stuart Jaffe

  “That lady sure was strange,” a boy said.

  “Never mind that. Eat your dinner.” An older voice — the boy’s father?

  “She hardly ate any of this, and it’s good food.”

  “So, don’t let it be wasted.”

  A few seconds of slurping and chomping passed. “Pa? Why do we get this food and not anybody else?”

  “Because we serve it. It goes with the job.”

  Malja thought back to her dinner with Harskill. There had been a man with a boy helping him. Her attention had zeroed in on Harskill to such an extent that she had barely registered any of the surrounding of the meal — including the servants.

  Footsteps. Then another voice. “Hi, Pa.”

  “Koni!” the little boy said. “You almost missed dinner. I got to help Pa today.”

  “Great. Then show me how it’s done. Go get me a bowl. I’m starving.”

  “Right to it.”

  Little feet scampered away. Malja looked down the other corridors. Any one of them could be the right way. Or the wrong one. She needed a guide. But this man and his boys — she wasn’t sure.

  “Haven’t seen you in a bit,” the father said.

  “I’ve been around.” Though Tommy never spoke, Malja figured he sounded something like this young man. The attitude certainly fit.

  “You’ve been working, haven’t you?”

  “You say that as if that were a bad thing to do.”

  “Not bad. But you’re young. You should be out drinking, laughing, finding a woman. Life is full of work and pain and hunger and all the awful things you’ve seen but never had to feel the full weight of just yet. You should enjoy this part of your life — it’ll be over before you realize it.”

  He sounded like Fawbry. Malja’s stomach turned. Could Fawbry be right about this, too? Tommy would certainly agree with them. But Tommy had special circumstances that this boy didn’t have — unless this servant suddenly bore magic powers.

  A crash came from further down, followed by a child’s cry. The father sighed. “Come on, Koni. Let’s go see what your brother broke now.”

  As the voices receded, Malja decided this path had been a mistake. If she went any further, she’d get lost, and while the servants had their hardships, they didn’t speak with the pain of those who would support murdering their boss. In fact, considering the results of losing their employment, she guessed that they would never help her out.

  She hurried back along the twisting corridors until she returned to her room. The guards had yet to awaken, but that wouldn’t last much longer. She stepped out on the balcony. A four-story drop to a stone ground provided no help. To either side, she saw more balconies, but hopping from one to another only increased the chances of being noticed by somebody in the adjoining rooms. Which left one option.

  She gazed upward. Only two stories more to get to the roof. Don’t think on it. She planted her foot on the balcony railing and hoisted herself up. The walls had been built of rough stone giving her plenty of surfaces to grasp.

  “Finally, the brother gods send me a little luck.” She wanted to take her time, make sure each stone would withstand her weight, make sure each handhold would hold. But soon enough, those guards would break down the closet door, and she did not want to be stuck clinging to a wall when she needed to be wielding Viper.

  Viper! With adrenaline rushing and the pressure of the moment, she came close to missing the obvious solution. She swung Viper overhead and struck its point into the stone. Like a giant pickax, Viper dug in, and Malja pulled herself up. She found a spot for each foot, loosened Viper and swung again. In this way, she managed to climb faster and more securely. At least, it felt more secure to her.

  Once on the roof, she scurried across, keeping low, all the time searching for access points. Only one door that she could see. Two options now: take the door and face whatever she finds on the other side as she fights her way to Harskill or descend the wall and sneak into Harskill’s room. The latter seemed the sensible and strategic choice.

  As she leaned over the edge, trying to determine which balcony would get her closest to Harskill, she noticed a pattern in the dark fields not far off. She pulled out her spyglass and observed the area. Her chest tightened and her breath caught.

  Row upon row, column upon column of tents. Campfires set every tenth row. Stretching as far as she could make out in the darkness. The Scarite army. They weren’t a scrapheap of survivors cobbling together a fighting force, and they weren’t a group of starving refugees who simply wanted to go home. This was a fully-armed, fully-outfitted, fully-prepared invasion force.

  A siren wailed out a long droning tone. Through her spyglass, Malja saw concerned heads popping from the tents. Must be an alarm for her.

  She collapsed the spyglass and backed her way toward the center of the roof, far from the eyes of those on the ground. Part of her wanted to ignore the alarm and the army. Simply attack Harskill and kill him. The Scarites didn’t have the skills to stop her. But they had numbers. Enough to take her down in the process. And if their numbers hit her hard enough, fast enough, they might kill her by sheer attrition. But she would die knowing she had saved worlds upon worlds.

  Another part of her, however, pointed out that if she died, nobody would be around to warn the Carsites. They would be slaughtered, and the Scarite terror would begin. Did she have the right to trade saving this one world for all others?

  She thought of Tommy and that settled it. “Don’t think you’re getting anything more than a little time,” she whispered to Harskill, believing that he was somewhere below her.

  She turned to leave when she heard the laughter. A Scarite with one good eye and six snakes hissing off his back hovered near the edge of the roof. A jagged scar marred his face. It started at his temple and worked its way down beneath his armored collar.

  He flew in, putting out his foot as if walking, and strode right onto the roof. Malja whirled Viper in front of her, letting it do all the threats necessary. One-Eye stepped closer.

  She watched his snakes. He had no other weapon, so she only had to wait for them to rear back or show some other sign of conjuring magic. One-Eye stepped closer again.

  Malja held her ground. He would be in range of Viper far sooner than in range of her. If he wanted to taste her blade, she had no problem with that.

  He stepped closer once more, only this time, she saw one of his snakes pull back. Clever — trying to hide casting his snake magic by driving her focus to his physical threat. Not clever enough.

  She rushed him. Barreling forward, she drove her shoulder into his lower ribs and knocked him down. Without breaking her stride, she brought Viper overhand and struck. One-Eye rolled out of the way and kicked her in the leg.

  As she fell, he rose. His snakes all reared back. She went down clumsily, her legs spreading out and preventing a smooth roll, but she managed to keep Viper at the ready. When the snakes shot out their magic, it came as a bolt of electrical energy. Malja thrust Viper forward like a curved lightning rod. The thick animal hide handle protected her as Viper absorbed all the magic.

  One-Eye roared and jumped on her. She kicked up, catching him in the groin, and thrust him back. In seconds, she was on her feet and charging him. A cross-strike with Viper came close to taking off the top of his head, but he ducked and lunged forward, catching her in the gut with his elbows.

  She tried to stay upright, but he kept pushing forward. Her lungs burned as she struggled for air. She kept her feet scrambling backwards. One-Eye pushed faster. He was too close-in to effectively use Viper, and those snakes kept jutting their head at her, snapping their sharp teeth.

  She stepped back again — but only found air.

  In the seconds that followed, the seconds that she fell through the air, she moved fast and pure. All instinct. Even as she saw the sadistic smile cross One-Eye’s face, her left hand snatched hold of a single snake’s neck. One-Eye’s smile dropped as she pulled him down with her. Her righ
t hand spun Viper until its point jabbed into the stone wall.

  She let One-Eye go and grabbed Viper with both hands. The awful scraping sound, the sparks shooting off, One-Eye’s garbled cursing — all of it drifted away. Instead, Malja thought only of a soft landing. A gentle, slow touch on the ground like a leaf from a tree landing in the morning dew.

  From the corner of her eye, she saw One-Eye remembering that he could fly, and before he flattened into the ground, he put out his arms like wings and swooped away. Viper continued to slow her descent but not enough to save her. Still, she focused on this single image — a leaf riding the softest hint of air down.

  When she smacked into the ground, her legs didn’t break nor did the jolt reach up and crack her teeth against each other. She hit hard, but her do-kha managed to absorb much of the blow. She stared at the do-kha a moment, her heart swelling at the idea that she had finally succeeded in controlling the thing when it mattered. And if she could do that, then perhaps she could really make this do-kha do all it was capable of — even open portals.

  Shouting from the road. More Scarites were closing in. She tugged on Viper three times until she got it loose from the wall.

  Breathing hard, sweat dripping down her face, she threw away the idea of making a stand. Difficult odds were one thing, but with the size of that army waiting nearby, she would never survive. She turned to run when she saw One-Eye floating above. His snakes reared back and shot bolts of electricity at her. She tried to dodge, but her body had taken too much abuse. The bolt struck her in the thigh. She screamed out, even as she attempted to limp away. One-Eye lowered enough to block her way.

  Behind her, she could hear the others approaching. They quickly made a circle around her. She held Viper firm and her face stoic. Despite the fire in her leg, she couldn’t let them see any weakness.

  “Give up,” One-Eye said, his voice rich and gritty. “Too many of us for one person. Even you.”

  “Maybe. But the first three or four of you who attack are going to die with me. I guarantee that much.”

  “But we have magic.”

  Malja snarled. “I didn’t say you’d have to come in after me. I can kill four of you from right here.”

  The Scarites all took a step back. One-Eye raised a hand straight in the air. “Don’t let her scare you. We have a true god on our side. Not a frail impostor like this one.”

  A scrawny fellow with only one snake curled limp over his shoulder jumped out of the crowd. “I don’t need magic for her.” He sprinted at her with nothing but a rock in his hand.

  Even injured, Malja had no trouble cutting the Scarite down. One swift strike across the abdomen. She never took her eyes off One-Eye.

  His face twisted, his muscles tightened, and his snakes stiffened. “Kill her!”

  Malja lowered her stance and picked out her targets. As she drew Viper back, the air flashed red and an awful squawk filled her ears. All the Scarites bent over, clasping their ears, as they backed away.

  When the terrible sound ceased, they all looked up at the wide balcony above. Harskill stood with his hand spread on the railing. “I promised Malja safe passage, and we will honor that promise. Everyone return to the camp.”

  One-Eye jabbed a stubby finger. “But she was trying to escape.”

  “Do I ever go back on my promises?”

  That stubby finger traced the long scar on One-Eye’s face. “No, sir. Sorry.” He hurried to join the other departing soldiers.

  Harskill kept his eyes on his army. “Malja, there is a talionog waiting for you in the stables to the east. Do you need any assistance?”

  “No,” she said, wondering if he knew she had initially intended to murder him.

  “Then take the beast and get out of here. I suppose the next time I see you will be on the battlefield.”

  “I suppose.”

  “Think on what I’ve shown you, what I’ve said. We could stop this all with our abilities.”

  “By taking over? By becoming gods to all the worlds?”

  “Exactly.”

  Malja put Viper away. She limped off to the east, shaking her head, and holding her tongue.

  Chapter 22

  Javery

  The control sticks shimmied in Javery’s hand. He looked down and noticed his fingers vibrating to the motion. Making sure not to shift his weight too dramatically, he inspected the autofly. Everything he could see from the seat looked in order. The sticks shimmied again.

  “Just a little further,” he whispered to the autofly. He had been able to see the island of Pali in the distance for the last twenty minutes. At his current speed, he expected to reach land in at least ten.

  The autofly dropped. Javery’s stomach climbed up his throat, and he tasted bitter acids. When the autofly stabilized, his stomach slammed back to where it belonged. Sweat trickled down the side of his face. He surveyed the area around — nothing but ocean.

  All the autoflys had suffered some damage from the battle, but this one had appeared to be in decent shape. Of course, the legend suggested that the Pali Witch’s magic disrupted all other magic around her, so perhaps the autofly worked fine. Perhaps the magic that kept it in the air was being messed with. If the Pali Witch even existed.

  Stroking the side of the autofly, Javery said, “You can do this. Just hold out for a little —”

  He heard a metallic clank, and the control sticks froze. The autofly’s nose dipped forward, and the ship sank through the sky. Wind rushed into his face, chilling the sweat on his skin. With both hands on one control stick, he pulled hard, but the controls refused to budge. He kicked at the other stick, slamming his foot into the handle, and saw it slip an inch.

  The autofly banked right and began a slow, circular winding. A spiral down to the waiting waters below.

  At least I won’t die now. But while the change in direction slowed his descent, the impact would still be hard. As he watched the endless, deep blue waters come closer, he removed his lap belt.

  Standing proved a challenge, but with his hand holding the edge, he managed to balance enough. Almost time. He could see the tiny bits of white cap on the water. Bending his legs slightly, he took a deep breath.

  And he jumped.

  When he kicked off, he sent the autofly spinning away like a toy. Good. He wanted to be as far from that hunk of metal as he could manage when he hit the water. Which would be any second. Straightening his legs, he pointed his toes downward, and did his best to strike like a spear — straight and true.

  Before he felt the pain, Javery felt the cold. Icy water surrounded him while air bubbles played along his skin. Then the harsh pain raced up his leg and into the back of his skull. He screamed out, only to hear his cries muted by tons of ocean. Using his arms, he swam to the surface. He tried kicking to speed his ascent, but one stroke brought a tortuous burn in his right foot and leg and thigh.

  Bursting from the water, he gasped for breath — coughing and spitting up while attempting to stay afloat. Despite the strong urge to flail, the desire to inhale as fast as possible, he willed himself to calm. Slow, deep breaths. He spread his arms out and gazed up at the clouds. Floating on his back, he let the world ease around him.

  Though his leg throbbed, he turned over and tread water long enough to locate the island of Pali. Not as far away as he thought. Not too close either. Returning to his back, he used his arms to row in the only direction that offered hope.

  Salt water trickled down his throat. Sounds rose and fell with the waves — covering his ears, uncovering his ears, over and over. He counted each stroke. When he hit fifty, he turned over, tread water, and made sure he hadn’t gone off course.

  Twice he thought of stopping, of letting his body float, of trusting in Carsite to see him to the shore. Twice he rejected those thoughts. Only one way existed to survive — himself. So he kept paddling his arms, pushing his body, ignoring the pain knotting in his shin, his knee, his hip.

  And then, as if the hand of Carsite acknowledged
his efforts and decided to grant him salvation, a wave grew at his feet and pushed him hard. He rose with it, and after it passed him by, another came. And another. Each one going in the same direction.

  He rolled over and saw Pali’s shoreline within reach. These waves weren’t just the ocean bobbing him around. This was a tide, pushing straight for the island shore.

  Though it still took him a half-hour, he eventually rolled onto the sandy beach. He lay there, the tide washing over him, and he let his arms relax. The pain pulsing from his shoulders down to his fingers muted the aches in his leg, but not for long.

  At length, he sat up. He inspected his leg. Purple bruises covered the poor thing, and it looked thicker than his other one. He slid backwards until he reached a fallen tree trunk. Wincing before he even started, he pulled himself up and stood on his good leg. Tenderly, he increased the weight on his bad leg.

  He screamed and passed out.

  The sun had set. Javery shivered in his damp robes with his teeth chattering and lips taking on an unnatural shade of blue. He had managed to stand again, leaning against the log, unsure of how to proceed. Druzane would know what to do. Well, she’d have an opinion, at least.

  “No,” he shouted, and his voice echoed across the sea. No. He couldn’t let his mind sink into that mire of regret. He would never get out. I’ve got to think.

  If the witch was only a legend, then he died the moment he had left for Pali. That wasn’t an acceptable outcome. So, he had no choice — the witch had to exist. And if the witch existed, then according to the legends, she lived up in the steep mountains. That’s where he had to go. But with a busted leg, the idea seemed laughable. Except if I stay here, I’ll die before morning.

  To his right, he saw several broken branches from the fallen tree. They were far from perfect, but he didn’t need perfect — merely serviceable. Moving slow and careful so as not to jostle his leg, he sidled next to the thickest branch and lifted it. Not too bad. He trimmed off the twigs and broke away a side branch. What remained fit snug under his arm.