A Forthcoming Wizard

by Jody Lynn Nye

  Furiously, she overwrote the new whorls and crosses that he had added with her own firm memory of what Olen’s sign should look like. Knemet grinned at her.

  “So you are a wizard, little one. A remarkable accomplishment for one of your kind. I am proud. What do you say to this, then?”

  Tildi gasped, but no sound came from her throat. Her vision blurred, as though she were looking through a piece of glass.

  “Knemet, stop that. You are torturing her,” Calester said. The shorter wizard turned to confront the tall one.

  “You are torturing me! Did you only bring the Compendium here to taunt me, Calester?” Knemet asked.

  “Certainly not,” Calester said. “I have brought it to use as a tool. You have two prisoners whom we want returned to us.”

  “Is that all? Why are you involved in such a petty exchange?” Knemet asked.

  “Why? Because you captured the two women in mistake for the book itself, didn’t you?”

  “It was not a mistake,” Knemet said. “They have been instrumental in keeping the Compendium from me. Was that your doing?”

  Calester shook his head. “They were taking action against you long before I was brought into the matter. Indeed, I must confess I have never met them.”

  “Then what do you care for their fate? You should have been concerned with me, your old friend and ally.” The rainbow eyes met the blue ones and bored into them. Calester blinked and laughed. He turned a hand. A whirlwind of bitter cold surrounded Knemet. Tildi recoiled from the chill blast. The small man drew his palms together and thrust them toward Calester. The winds gathered themselves between his hands and flew outward in a torrent of needle-sharp ice crystals. Calester caught them in his palms. Water dripped to the floor and steamed around his feet. Knemet glared at him.

  “We were indeed friends and allies,” Calester said, countering Knemet’s moves more swiftly than Tildi could follow. “Souls together in our quest to discover what we could and to make better that which could be improved. But we became greedy and careless. Didn’t you grow tired?”

  “I did. That is why I am so glad to see you. You can put an end to my agony.”

  “Willingly,” Calester said. “But how?”

  “Give me the Compendium!”

  “Why?”

  “So I may end this unwanted existence!”

  Calester looked at him curiously. He dodged to one side to avoid a black, spiky rune that Tildi could not read and did not want to. It vanished into the wall in a puff of black dust. “You would destroy all that we held dear for your own sake?”

  “What choice have I? I see that you are in the same quandary as I! Nothing will remove you from this world. Why are you still alive?”

  Calester seemed surprised and amused. “I? I wanted to see our creations come to their full maturity. We but set them in motion. They were a fascinating study.”

  “Were, brother,” Knemet breathed. Tildi felt the book moving in her hands and yelped. The Maker had been attempting to force her to send it to him. “I can tell you lost interest in the greater world yourself. Where have you been all these long years?”

  “I confess it,” Calester said evenly. “Once you were gone, or so we thought, I took many centuries to contemplate our work. I set myself on guard to prevent the Compendium returning to the north.”

  “But you missed it, didn’t you?” Knemet gloated. “You were as weary of this world as I. You just refuse to admit it.”

  “I am not,” Calester said. “Indeed, there is more here in which to rejoice than there was when we . . .”

  “. . . Lived?” Knemet finished for him. “Yes, that is right. I have felt dead for centuries. I only want to be dead in truth.”

  “But you cannot!”

  “I can!”

  A rune as large as a man appeared between them. Tildi knew it at once. It was the book. If he could not have the object itself, he would change it at a distance. Knemet reached into its heart with both hands and twisted the intricate marks. Tildi heard the voices moan.

  Almost without thinking, she drew Pierin’s knife and rewrote the broken strokes. Knemet gave her a fierce look and wrenched the rune outward. Just as fervently, she remade it again. Like the hero in tales of swordplay she had heard around the fire at Meetings, she watched the wizard’s uncanny eyes to see what part of the name he tried to unmake next. She must not let him destroy a single serif. All her practice on the road helped her to avoid making even a single mistake in its intricately complex rune. She kept it firmly in mind, knowing it was still all right by the rhythm that came from it.

  “Good girl, Tildi,” Olen said, his green eyes intent. His hands were moving, too.

  Knemet laughed. “You have learned one trick, little one. It is a good one, but what will save you?” His right hand drew another rune upon the air in burning silver. Tildi recognized her own. Her hands became paddles. She gasped as air refused to pass through her nose or mouth. The hot air dragged into her starving lungs through slits in her neck. Olen’s magic swept around her like a cooling breeze, restoring her energy. Knemet redoubled his efforts. The burning rune expanded as the wizard sought to subdue them both at once. Olen staggered as his legs thinned to spindles and the protective veil vanished. Tildi felt as if her skin were being torn off, but she kept her mind on the book. A part of it had been scorched, nearly destroyed. She let out a cry of alarm and worked to restore the damaged part. Olen restored himself and her, letting her keep her mind on her work, but Knemet scorned her efforts. He clicked his tongue. The tables were turned now. He was watching to see what she did, and undoing it right behind her.

  “There, what do you think you are doing? What have you wiped out there?” Calester demanded. He threw a rune at Knemet that knocked him across the room.

  “I want an end to this existence,” Knemet snarled, undeterred, rising above the ground. The huge rune kept on unmaking itself, with Tildi frantically working to keep it intact. “I will have to destroy it all to take myself out of this world. We were foolish! Tying ourselves into the very fabric of being!”

  “What is done is done,” Calester said. “You must learn to live with what we wrought.”

  “I no longer wish to,” Knemet said. “I shall not! I want peace!”

  “We cannot kill him,” Olen said, stroking his beard. “Because of his immortality he can be released in no other way than the destruction of us all. A knotty problem.”

  “Master, how can you contemplate that as if it were no more difficult than what to have for dinner?” Tildi asked, outraged.

  “My dear, what good does it do to flood the facts with emotion? It gets us nowhere . . . ah, don’t do that, Master Knemet.”

  A burst of red flame appeared inches from Tildi’s nose. She felt her skin blister as a white-hot fire met it. She jumped. The rainbow eyes glittered. He was trying to distract her. Olen scribbled a couple of fine spirals in the air and the ache in her nose stopped. Tildi found the damage he had done in the meantime and brought it back to normal. The voices chattered and jabbered in her mind.

  “Stop it!” she snapped. “You are distracting me!”

  Calester appeared between his enemy and the book’s rune.

  “Knemet, your fight is with me. These others do not matter.”

  The pale-skinned wizard glared. “You are right. I must efface you from existence as well—all of you!”

  He clenched his hands and drew them outward. The enormous rune stretched and stretched until tears began to form in the center, in the one small part that matched the sign for the room inside the mountain where they stood. Tildi worked frantically, trying to restore the damage. Reality was being pulled out of shape. Calester opened his arms and pressed inward. The rune shuddered, and so did the world around them. Tildi strained against air that was too thin to breathe, to see by light that seeped away like water in a leaky bucket.

  Remember where you stand, Olen had told her. Could she recall the room the way it had been? With her lungs bu
rsting, Tildi redrew the rune in her mind and sought to force it to be real.

  “Curse you!” Knemet’s voice howled. Tildi kept the image true in her mind and held on to it as everything else went dark.

  Chapter Thirty-five

  veryone’s eyes were upon the approaching edge of the runes as full night descended. The thraiks seemed to sense unease among the humans, for they increased the frequency and fierceness of their attacks. Where eight had sprung out of scars in the sky, sixteen or twenty came. Teryn’s guards, empowered by Serafina, concentrated her forces on the southeast side of the ship. The Scholardom was conscious of the limit of its power, ceasing pursuit if the thraiks went too far in the direction of the harbor mouth.

  The winged monsters knew something had changed. They leered at their enemy, sticking out their tongues between their sharp yellow teeth, daring them to go beyond what they perceived as new boundaries. The Scholardom still had magic, though. Many of the thraiks that dipped close to the edge of safe distance found themselves the target of blue fire. They died or disappeared screaming as their bodies were consumed by the flames.

  Near midnight, the Agate rose. Magpie had landed to give Tessera a rest and a meal. The sailors seemed energized to have the additional light of the lesser of Alada’s two moons shining over them.

  “It’s part of our curse,” Patha said, helping him to tie a nosebag on the piebald’s muzzle, “but we draw strength from the Agate and the Pearl.”

  “I wish we had such a bond,” Magpie said.

  The werewolf matriarch shook her head sternly. She patted Tessera’s neck. “Be grateful. They are intemperate masters. When they both ride the skies at the same time we have no control over our state.” She glanced upward and gawked. “By the light, look at that!”

  Magpie followed her eye. The number of shadows circling overhead had increased.

  “Where did they all come from?” Patha asked. “I thought that we had killed or driven off half of the monsters.”

  “Impossible!” Halcot exclaimed, circling a few feet overhead. “There must be twice as many as before. We cannot withstand this force.”

  “We will because we must,” Soliandur said. “Skill, brother, skill and strategy. They have been beaten before. Keep them busy. I will wager that they will flee when the mind driving them is gone. I hope that Master Olen can defeat this Knemet.”

  “Don’t you mean Calester, Father?” Magpie asked, the need for rest making his muscles ache all along his back and arms.

  Soliandur glared at him. “Don’t presume to correct me. I do not have much respect for one like him. He knows nothing of life. He was only driven out of his comfortable study because he and his companions learned the consequences of indulging every magical whim they had. We are at their mercy now. I trust Master Olen’s common sense. And that girl’s courage.”

  But the truth was that the number of warriors fit for battle decreased every hour. No matter how many wounded Serafina and the healers brought back to health, the survivors were growing demoralized at the deaths of their friends and the endless stream of thraiks. “Help! Help here!” Captain Teryn called, flying in from the level of the lookout’s basket. Magpie urged Tessera upward to meet her. Across the saddle lay a man’s body. Magpie could tell by the way his limbs flopped loosely that it was almost certainly too late for him. When they reached the deck and dragged him down for Serafina to examine, Magpie saw that the man’s throat was laid open. Gouges left the windpipe visible. The man was not breathing, but Teryn stonily maintained optimism.

  “Can you help him?” she asked hoarsely.

  Serafina regarded the man’s rune. It was changing before Magpie’s eyes. He had seen that change before. The wizardess shook her head.

  “He has gone back to the Mother,” she said. “I am very sorry.”

  Teryn shook her head. She said nothing as she returned to her saddle and rose above the deck. The king swung his steed around, and his gaze caught Teryn’s. They exchanged sharp nods of respect. This was no longer merely an essay to rescue two lost friends. It was a war for the safety of the world. He must find out the names of all those who had died. The song would be painful to write, but those names must not be lost to the void.

  “Ware!”

  “Son, guard the wizard!” Soliandur’s voice grated from somewhere above. Magpie had but a moment to glance over his shoulder. Dozens, no, hundreds of thraiks arrowed toward him, the runes in their eyes glowing like brands. Feeling like a reed caught in the rapids, he spurred the whinnying mare down in front of Serafina. He leaped out of the saddle and threw himself across the wizardess’s body. The thraiks shot overhead only yards above them. Tessera danced and screamed as she was buffeted by their wings.

  He had never seen so many thraiks this close to the ship. They must have decided that numbers would win the battle at last. Magpie braced himself over Serafina and her patients.

  The flock passed him like a hurricane and were gone into the dark skies. He doubted that was all their intention, and he was right. Five of the younger and swifter beasts broke away from the mass and swirled low, making for the decoy scroll. Soliandur hovered overhead, facing the enemy. He struck at wildly thrashing wings or legs, whatever came close to threatening Serafina or his son. Halcot floated nearly back to back with him. The thraiks gave the two kings a wide berth, and dove as one for the rune in the center of the deck.

  Patha howled fiercely. Claws out, she leaped down from the top of the wheelhouse onto the nearest flyer. A dozen of her kin followed suit. Their fur was nearly scorched off their backs as a troop of knights followed in the wake of the enormous throng, heaving gouts of blue fire at the thraiks.

  A handful of the dancing flames caught in the rigging.

  “Fools!” Patha shrieked.

  “Sorry!” shouted the scholar-knight, before he, too, was gone. Swearing, Haroun and some of his crew swarmed up the ropes with buckets and anti-fire charms slung over their shoulders. Magpie rose carefully to his hands and knees.

  “Did I hurt you?” he asked Serafina. He helped her to stand. The wounded, two men and one woman, crouched against the cabin wall.

  “Not at all, but I fear for your mare,” the wizardess said. “Go calm her. I am all right here. I have much to do.” As if to confirm her words, she drew a complicated rune on the air and sent it flying toward Teryn and her guards.

  Magpie caught Tessera by her bridle and pulled her head to his chest. “Come, come, my dear. Are you going to let those creatures bother you? They’re not as smart or as brave as you.”

  The mare rolled her eyes and whimpered into his tunic. He patted her nose, feeling her breathing slow. She was a true warhorse.

  “Don’t waste time, boy!” Soliandur shouted. He glanced back at the triumphant cry as the werewolves brought down one of the young thraiks. They hauled the body to the rail and heaved it overboard. It disappeared into the waves with a loud splash. The other four looked panic-stricken, but kept looping about, trying to find an angle past the defenders. Their hides were running with ichor from slashes and bites.

  Magpie leaped onto the mare’s back and brought her aloft. He hoped the wizards would return soon. A cold wind whipped up, stinging his face, and he saw that the runeless edge had crept to the edge of the wheelhouse. He joined his father. The two of them braced themselves as the main flock of thraiks came around for a second pass. He struck at the creatures, keeping the flow away from Serafina. She had just helped a man to stand up. His chest was covered with blood, but he was whole and well again. He grabbed up his sword and ran into the ship’s belly to aid in its defense.

  A second troop of knights had joined the first, harrying the flock. In the midst of it he recognized Inbecca. She was too intent upon her prey, a muscular, long-bodied thraik, to see him. She leaned low over the neck of her borrowed mount, sword flat over the saddlebow, ready to strike if she got the opportunity. The beast was a swift one. It led her a wild chase up around the mast and over to the Eclipse. Her fell
ows saw the void and turned back, letting their quarries escape. Inbecca paid no attention, but stayed on the creature’s tail.

  “Inbecca!” he shouted. “Inbecca, come back!”

  Soliandur turned at his son’s outburst. His dark eyes widened with alarm. “Lady Inbecca!” he shouted. “Boy, go after her!”

  Serafina smacked the end of her staff down on the deck. Gray light went up around her and her patients. “Go!” she cried. “I will be all right.”

  Magpie was already spurring into the night. The thraik knew what it was doing. The void had nearly reached all the way to the decoy rune. She drew her hand back. It filled with fire, its blueness lighting her eyes. She threw the ball of flame. It scarred the black night. The thraik dodged it, and fleered at her over its shoulder. The fire arced like a holiday skyrocket and dropped into the water. Her face set, Inbecca drew her hand back again. No fire. She looked back. Magpie saw the fear in her eyes. The rune on her body went out like a candle flame extinguished. Her horse reached for purchase for its hooves and found none. His stomach gave a sickening lurch as the poor creature let out a cry. It plunged toward the rocks, Inbecca clinging to the saddle.

  He spurred Tessera for all the speed she could give him. The mare seemed to sense that this was no ordinary run, and opened her stride as never before. No time to get below the horse and try to save them both. He rode straight for the fluttering habit and grabbed a handful of cloth as he passed overhead.

  Inbecca’s weight pulled them all down a little, but Magpie changed holds and hauled the young woman up, first by an arm, then by her belt, until she was lying across the saddlebow. He heard the terrible scream stop abruptly, coupled with another, more sickening sound. He spared a short glance over his shoulder at the pathetic body shattered on the rocks, the waves already licking at it like the flames on a funeral pyre. The thraik let out a cry of triumph and alit upon the body. It bent to tear the still warm throat with its yellow teeth.