The Wizard from Tian (The Star Wizards Trilogy Book 3)

by S. J. Ryan

  “If it comes to that, I want you to kill me. Can you do that much?”

  “Yes, Carrot. I understand.”

  Well, she thought grimly. He'll be good for something.

  “I can't be distracted while fighting. Stay quiet from now on unless I talk to you.”

  “I understand.”

  The slope became vertical, a sheer wall that seemed all the more intimidating in proximity. She looked down and saw Norian, slogging upward with determination, but not with vigor. Halfway to the road, Mirian had gained a branch as staff and was staggering toward them. Up to then, Carrot realized, the couple had been invaluable to the quest, but in the coming battle they would only be burdens despite their intentions. The coming fight would have to end before they joined, or the monster would quickly slay them both.

  Carrot surveyed south. She saw a spot in the sky, but it was only a bird. She surveyed the western sky longingly, as she had so many times in this journey. Nothing. But she wasn't expecting his return at that very moment. That would have been a coincidence in her favor. Life didn't work that way.

  She told herself in defiance of physical circumstances, He is still with me. The kindness, the caring, the compassion – the almost-desperation to do right. Yet she admitted, what good would such attributes do in combat with a monster?

  Still, thinking of him helped renew her strength. She tackled the cliff face and within minutes scaled all but the top. She skirted to the downwind side, halted and listened. She heard only the whisper of wind and crackle of embers.

  She took a deep breath and sorted the smells from above. Wood smoke. A forest animal's fresh blood. Overpowering all, Inoldia's transformation scent. Whoever the person might be, that was the same.

  Carrot crept above the edge. A bulge of rock blocked view of the source of the smoke. She climbed upon the plateau, drew the sword and skirted the narrow path between rockside and precipice.

  The woman stood square upon the miniature plateau, facing eastward, away from Carrot. She no longer looked like Inoldia, or even human. She had taken the form of a humanoid lizard, wingless and too hulking to fly. Her skin was scales of armored plates. She had grown – expanded – above two meters in height, with arms as thick as legs, and legs proportionately larger as well. Feet and hands ended in talons crusted with blood.

  “I might have gone hours ago,” the creature said, half-spitting words through fangs. “But I'm glad there has been a delay, for I require redress.”

  Norian had warned, It's an old dueling trick for your opponent to speak in mystery, and attack while you puzzle. Carrot tightened her grip, determined to have ready a trick of her own.

  “Redress?” she asked calmly.

  The creature continued facing east, and just as calmly replied, “You have humiliated me, Arcadia, Daughter of Pandora Beta. No, that isn't quite right, is it?” The creature turned and smiled through fur and fangs. “You are Arcadia, Daughter of the Daughter of Pandora Beta's cleaning woman.”

  “I am not ashamed of that.”

  “What would the people of Britan think of having you as queen, if they knew that was your lineage?”

  “I don't want to be a queen. I want to have the Box.”

  “You speak as if possession of a goddess were a smaller ambition.”

  Beyond the smoldering camp fire, a half-eaten deer carcass, and the dress that Inoldia had worn in human form, the Box blinked its lights. Inoldia was standing aside, so that the path was clear for Carrot to walk directly over. Carrot sensed that she was being dared.

  “Your transformation into a monster surprised me,” Inoldia said. “But feel free to do it again.” She raised a massive arm and flexed her talons, each a knife of hard stone. “This time I have prepared.”

  “I will fight you,” Carrot said. “But first I have questions.”

  “Because I am gracious, you may ask of me anything in these moments that will be your last.”

  “The Wizard said he killed you. How is it that you are still alive?”

  “But I am not still alive. I am still dead.”

  The creature's face was too far from human for Carrot to tell if it was smiling.

  “Another question, then?”

  “I have time. Do you?”

  “Why does the Pandora of Rome require the Pandora of Britan?”

  “To know that, you must know that there are three Pandoras. The First made the World and all its creatures. The second made the People in all their kinds. The third, who is my Mother, is the maker of the Future.”

  “Your Mother told me that she alone made the world.”

  “You think you are deserving of the truth?”

  Which made Carrot wonder if she was getting the truth now. But no – this sounded right. It explained why the Pandora of Britan was so compliant, and why the Pandora of Rome was so willful. One was meant to be subordinate, the other to control.

  “You've not answered my question. Why does the Pandora of Rome require the Pandora of Britan?”

  The creature attempted to inject a lofty tone into its words, but because of its fangs it lisped and spewed spittle as it spoke:

  “The Lords of Aereoth gave my Mother ten eggs from which we guardians hatched. Ten eggs and no more. One after another, we were implanted in hosts and given birth, and have protected the Mother since the beginning of the Human Age. Now I am the last, yet the Mother needs more. The Pandora Beta, whom you call the Pandora of Britan, can fabricate guardians without limit. The Mother will be able to rule the world without reliance upon feeble and disloyal human agency.”

  “By that, you mean the Roman Empire.”

  “You are not as stupid as you look.”

  Neither are you, Carrot thought. In contrast, neither the Emperor Valarion nor his generals nor the members of the Roman Senate looked stupid, yet in their alliance with the Pandora of Rome they had submitted to being used as mere tools – disposable tools at that.

  The creature ambled over to the deer carcass, crouched, and using splayed claws as a rake, scooped a handful of guts. It offered the bloody, dripping mass to Carrot. Carrot, refraining from a gag, shook her head. The creature compressed the flesh into its mouth and gazed intently, watching Carrot's reaction as it chomped, blood trickling from the corners of its mouth.

  “This moment is rather pleasant,” the creature said, speaking with its mouth full. “Good food, good weather, reasonably intelligent conversation.” It swallowed and belched. “We might talk until the ship arrives. Or we can fight. Choose your fate.”

  Oh, we are fighting.

  The question was how. Carrot judged that the creature outmatched her in strength. Summoning the Beast would be of no use this time; it would be like a dog against a bear. The only battle she could win would be of minds. Yet therein was a problem also. Inoldia had been dull-witted. This creature, somehow, was smarter.

  But maybe, Carrot thought, there's a clue in that.

  “You are a paradox,” Carrot said. “You are alive but say you are dead. I know you are Inoldia, but I also know you are not. Explain how this can be.”

  “It is beyond your understanding.”

  But Carrot was already sensing the answer. She had spent the climb thinking about the identity of the woman at the keep, trying to place the woman's scent. The answer had come by carefully reviewing every day of recent months, every scent she had encountered, until recognition was triggered. Still, it had been such a peripheral incident, she had almost overlooked . . . .

  “I think I know who you really are.”

  “It is unguessable.”

  “Would you care to make a wager?”

  The noise that came from the creature's throat was between laughter and choking. “Britanians and their wagers! This should be interesting. What for what?”

  “If I cannot guess your true name, I will leave now in peace. And if I can guess – ” Her eyes went to the Box. “I leave with her. Do you consent?”

  The creature wiped its chin. “I consent.”<
br />
  “Matlid. Your name is Matlid.”

  The corner of its eye twitched. “What . . . makes you think . . . whoever that person . . . . “

  “By the terms of our wager, I don't have to tell you why,” Carrot said sharply.

  “You . . . you're just . . . you're just guessing . . . . “

  In other circumstances, it would have been amusing to see a monster stammer. Carrot saw the tensing of the muscles and tensed hers in response. The first strokes would not be long from now.

  “By the terms of our wager, all I have to do is guess right.”

  “Guessing doesn't count!”

  “Are you changing the terms after the bet's been won?”

  “You will tell me how you know!”

  Knowing that she was winning the psychological battle, Carrot inwardly smiled. “All right, if it pleases you. When I met your scent at the keep, I knew I had scented it before, that it belonged to a woman named Matlid.”

  “That is where you lie! Matlid never met you.”

  “Matlid was in Boudica's camp, and I was also, for a week.”

  “Matlid stayed inside the tent! It was guarded! You could not have come close enough to scent her!”

  “Yes, but that did not inhibit me from making inquiries about who lived in the tent. You see, I wanted to know everything about Boudica, because at the time I admired her so much. I asked questions of all who would answer, and they happened to mention among other things that she had a servant named Matlid.”

  “So! You are just guessing that I am her!”

  “Oh, no, more than that. You see, 'Boudica' – or rather, as we both know, Inoldia in disguise – sent me written orders. Yet Inoldia was rather dull and could neither read nor write. Someone else had to write those orders for her. The scent of that woman was on the document. All over it. The same scent that is on those clothes by the fire. Need I connect more, or do you see how the necklace strings?”

  “There are other reasons I might carry the scent of Matlid,” the creature said. Its lips curled awkwardly in a caricature of smugness. “Perhaps I ate her.”

  “In a way, you did.”

  The words struck the creature like a slap from a log. It hissed like the steam of the keep's mechanical doors.

  “I have won the wager,” Carrot said. “Unless you wish to change terms again, I will take my prize.”

  The creature said nothing. Carrot walked toward the seeder probe. However, she knew what was coming. The creature's body might have been Matlid's, but in the battle at the keep, Carrot had sensed the cunning and viciousness of Inoldia.

  As soon as Carrot had advanced past, the creature lunged. With Norian's training, Carrot read the whoosh and knew exactly where the creature was and how fast it moved. Carrot whirled and hacked her sword blindly – but accurately.

  The blade struck hard enough to sever a man in two, but against the creature's scaled plating it only scraped. The edge of the blade, however, dripped blood. Carrot tumbled away and sprang standing and checked herself and discovered she was woundless.

  The creature skidded, spun, and lunged again. Carrot dodged, her blade going low to the campfire to flick ash and embers with its tip into the reptilian eyes. The creature screamed, clutched its face, lost footing and tumbled. Growling, it arose, revealing the bloody X that Carrot had scraped upon its chest.

  “Stupid girl!” the creature snarled.

  “Not so stupid as to think you would keep your word,” Carrot replied. “Matlid knows what I mean. What was she promised? Instead you stole her life.”

  “The person you speak of is not here.”

  “You change your story. I thought it was Inoldia who was dead. Now it's Matlid who's dead? The truth is, I think you're still Matlid underneath.”

  “Underneath what?”

  “Underneath Inoldia. Smothered under Inoldia. Matlid, what have they done to you?”

  The creature extended its arms. From elbow to wrist, the arms flattened and projected, sharpened into blades. The creature crossed the newly-created weapons and charged. Carrot the guerrilla fighter would have wasted a precious fraction of a second deciding what to do, and would have died in hesitation. Carrot the student of a master swordsman automatically dodged and chopped at the creature's back, gouging a tatter of flesh.

  Circling around the fire, the creature heaved and glared. Carrot shifted weight from foot to foot, squeezed the sword handle and waited.

  “Your Wizard's Spit is of no use,” the creature said. “The Mother protects me from its power.”

  “I seem to be winning without it.”

  “You are not winning.”

  “By my count, if this were a tournament battle, I would already be three points up.”

  “You are not winning!” the creature lisped, worse than before. “You will tire first, and then you will lose. Oh, I see your tricks. Your sword is silver, and I have always had trouble with that cursed metal. Even so, your hardest strikes merely scratch my skin. I will fight at close quarter, and soon you will weary and not have power in your swings to injure me.”

  The creature approached slowly, in deliberate single steps, crossing arm-blades in front to protect its chest and belly. Carrot sidestepped, keeping the fire between them.

  “Matlid, if you are a decent person, why do you serve these monsters?”

  “You do not know what her life was like! We saved her!”

  “To be their puppet? What kind of life is that? Any debt you owe, Matlid, is broken by their betrayal. And has there ever been a deeper betrayal than what has been done to you?”

  The creature bent and shuddered. Carrot briefly hoped. Then the monster stood straight, towering to full height. It stepped into the flames. The embers billowed sparks. It emerged from the smoke, nothing but air between itself and Carrot. Carrot backed away, aware that the edge of the cliff was only a few steps behind.

  “Matlid, I know what the Mother can do, how she can impose one mind over another, because she almost did it to me. Yet it's possible to win against it. I can help – “

  “STOP TALKING TO HER!”

  The creature positioned arm blades, low and high, and quickened its march. Carrot retreated, slashing furiously against the advance. The kedana sparked against the blocking blades with lightning repetition. Gaps in the defense opened for instants and Carrot scraped flesh, but the creature kept coming, refusing to slow even as its body became criss-crossed with oozing scrapes.

  Despite the storm of her strokes, Carrot was forced closer to the drop-off And the creature was right – she was tiring.

  She thought to break to one side, realizing that would leave her legs open to the creature's talons, which were just as deadly as the blades. Unlike the creature, Carrot knew she could not take heavy wounds and continue fighting. There had to be another choice!

  Summon the beast, she thought.

  But no, the creature was too powerful, the beast would be no match.

  Summon the beast. NO! It was not an answer this time, only madness born of despair.

  What would Norian do? she asked.

  Norian would evade. But another step would be over the precipice, where –

  And then Carrot remembered what was there.

  She took the backstep, and tumbled over the sheer drop. Sight of the creature, fire, and Box disappeared as she plummeted against the cliff wall. Almost too late, she grabbed at the projecting tree trunk her photographic memory remembered. By then she had fallen a score of meters and the jolt of impact shot pain through her shoulder. Worse, the tree roots were half yanked from the wall. Carrot dangled a hundred meters in the air. If she fell, there were no more projections to grab onto and she would be greeted at the foot of the cliff by a clutter of boulders.

  Clumsily holding the sword at the same time, Carrot swung herself onto a ten-centimeter wide ledge and side-scrambled onto the path she had climbed before. With the bulk of the cliff intervening, she could not see the creature from her position, but she could cal
culate its action, almost see it in her imagination, time its motions precisely.

  It would rush to the edge. It would peer down to the base of the cliff. It would search among the rocks for Carrot's body. It would see the tree quivering. It would realize that Carrot had grabbed the limb and swung to the ledge. It would rush to the side of the plateau where the trail reached, to intercept –

  Just beneath the plateau edge, Carrot crouched and listened. The thud of the massive feet gave away the creature's position, while Carrot, a hundred kilos lighter, moved stealthily. She positioned herself, she waited – then leaped upward and hacked.

  The creature's arms were out of position to defend from Carrot's attack. The silver blade slashed into the abdomen, beneath the ribs and into the belly. The metal buried itself into the flesh and blood gushed from the slit.

  The creature howled. Carrot howled louder. Stumbling onto the plateau, she extracted the blade and, with her other hand, rammed Mirian's arrow deep into the wound.

  A paw slapped her across the plateau, tumbling her to the edge. Carrot huddled, stunned, aware that she'd been raked savagely by the claws. As the creature approached, its wound already half-healed, Carrot realized that the kedana had slipped from her grasp. The same time she did, the creature saw where it rested, and they pounced simultaneously.

  Carrot reached the sword first. She grasped the handle, spun on her back, saw the creature flying toward her in a belly flop. She poised the blade, expecting it to skewer the creature. Instead, the creature clapped its hands, halting the blade and itself in mid-fall. Its feet landed on the ground, one on each side of the still-prone Carrot. Wide yellow eyes glared above a half-smile, half-snarl.

  Carrot grunted and shoved the blade. Caught between the palms of the creature, it would not budge. Growling and grinning at the same time, the creature twisted the blade, and the soft metal yielded.

  Then the creature cried: “It stings!”

  Pressed tightly for too long, the silver in the blade had reacted with the mutated cells of the creature's hands. Flesh sizzled and grease slickened the blade. Carrot pushed harder, and the sword advanced against the creature's weakened grip. The creature widened its eyes and Carrot knew it was seeing death. But then it met Carrot's eyes and made an ugly smile.