by Brian Farrey
The chances of asking the Palatinate were slim to none. Some stories suggested they were hiding. But most people believed the Lordcourt had led all the mages far away from the Provinces to a distant land where they could start over. Part of me hoped that was true. And that they’d taken Aubrin with them. At least she’d be safe.
Ma studied the Xs and Os on the map. “If we knew what these places had in common, we could predict where they’ll strike next.”
“And bring the fight to them,” Da said.
I hunched over the map and focused on the three latest attacks. Laying my battered copy of The Kolohendriseenax Formulary on top of the map, I pressed my quill against the book’s spine and drew a straight line that ran through the recent attacks, linking them all. Previously, the attacks had been all over the place. Now, there was a pattern.
“Whatever the Scourge is looking for,” I said, “they’ve figured out where it is and they’re heading straight for it.”
The Dowager’s eyebrows went up. “Bangers, Jaxter!”
Murmurs erupted around the room. People who’d been quiet for days suddenly stirred. This was our first real breakthrough.
Luda tapped a point along the line, just below the most recent attack. “This mill is in the direct path of the Scourge.”
Leave it to Luda to kill an inspiring moment.
The Dowager did some fast calculations. “Given the time that’s lapsed between attacks,” she said, “I estimate they’ll be here in a week.”
Kendil stood. “We have to evacuate.”
The Dowager disagreed. “We’re not going anywhere. Any time we buy ourselves by leaving won’t be enough. No, we stay here and we make a stand.”
The room fell quiet. We’d vowed to stop the Scourge and now we were getting our chance. But from everyone’s sullen faces, I could tell no one believed we were ready.
“Our defenses are poor at best,” Luda said, her arm sweeping the room. The few weapons that had survived our last battle were strewn about. Most had broken blades. Several bows needed to be restrung. In addition, we’d failed to recruit any of the refugees who’d fled south. We were only a hundred people and barely armed.
“Well, then,” Da said, a lilt in his voice to lighten the mood, “I suggest we get a good night’s sleep. We’ve got quite a bit of work to do in the morning if we’re going to prevent our own executions.”
There was no avoiding it. We would have to be ready to face the Scourge in a week. Resigned, the group broke up, most heading upstairs to the rooms we’d converted into bedrooms. I leaned over the Dowager’s map again. If we had any hope of surviving, we needed something with power. . . .
An idea flashed in my head. “Ma,” I said softly, pulling her aside, “you fancy a quick trip to the Palatinate Palace tomorrow?”
Ma scratched her head. “But it’s empty.”
“I have an idea.”
“Is it a completely and totally insane idea?”
“Do I have any other kind?”
“Of course not. You’re my son.” She mussed my hair. “Let’s get some sleep and we’ll head out in the morning.”
We went upstairs to the room we shared with three other families. As candles went out one by one, Ma and I joined Da and Nanni along the wall where we made beds on old blankets. Slowly, the rebellion fell asleep.
The room became still but I was restless as ever. I hated this feeling. It was like there was something hiding in the corners of my eyes. Something that should have been obvious but I couldn’t see it. I tossed and turned and wriggled.
“If you don’t stop that,” Nanni whispered in the dark, “you’ll be sleeping outside in the stream.”
I struck a flint and lit a small candle. “Sorry, Nanni. I can’t stop thinking about the Scourge. We agree they’re looking for something. What could it be?”
“Is death.”
The soft words came from Gobek. The strange creature hadn’t said much since the battle. He kept to himself, often curled up in a corner, as he was now. I couldn’t tell if he was adding to the conversation or just talking in his sleep. Then, his eyelids flicked open and he stared at me from across the room. He spoke again, his voice quiet and dreamlike.
“Is death.”
35
Callie’s Hope
“A marked thief is a failed thief.”
—The Lymmaris Creed
Traveling by quickjump spell, while certainly speedy, is not a fun experience. As you pass through the ring, a wave of dizziness grips you. There’s a moment where you’re in two places at once: your top half is where you’re leaving and your bottom half is where you’re arriving. And for just an instant, it really feels like your two halves won’t be reunited.
There’s also the fact that arrival always involves falling out of the sky. I don’t know what thrill-seeking mage invented the spell, but it’s clear they were completely naff-nut.
The danger is compounded when the place you’re traveling to is totally dark. As I leaped through the ring, darkness swallowed me. Unable to see the ground, I hit the stone floor beneath me hard and grunted. I scrambled to my feet, lit a torch, and found myself in the gallery of the Palatinate Palace where I’d rescued the shimmerhex prisoners not that long ago. The room was empty and cold.
I looked up at the quickjump ring, still glowing above me. “Come on down!”
Luda and Ma emerged next, followed by Uncle Garax, who howled the whole way. Finally, Callie arrived, the ring vanishing the second she landed.
“I really like that spell,” Callie said, clearly pleased. “Could come in handy if I’m ever in a tight spot.”
And, I thought, it works better without the Vanguard interfering. I’d left it with Da for safekeeping.
Ma agreed. “I just hope the binding spell works as well. That’s more important.”
“Explain to me again,” Uncle Garax said, crossing his arms grumpily, “why you’ve dragged me into this?”
“Because everyone else back at the mill is busy,” I said, “making weapons, fortifying the walls . . .”
“. . . and we wouldn’t want you to slink away during the confusion like the vermislug you are,” Ma finished, giving my uncle a sweet smile.
Garax humphed. He was a reluctant member of the rebellion, to be sure. But even he knew he had nowhere to go. He was mostly here because we needed the help.
Callie and I led the way from the gallery, followed by Garax. Ma and Luda brought up the rear. Callie and I hadn’t spoken much since she arrived with the spiderbats in the canyon. She’d spent most of her time practicing magic. We all knew magic was the best way to fight the Scourge. If attacked, Callie could be our best hope.
“Hey, Cal,” I said, “remember when I was teaching you to be a thief? And you’d go ‘ta-da!’ every time you succeeded? Do you do that with spells too?”
She grabbed a handful of cobwebs from the wall and threw them at me with a smirk. We laughed. It had been a long time since we’d laughed together.
“Thanks,” I said.
“For what?”
“For not saying I told you so when Edilman betrayed us.”
Callie grinned sheepishly. “You don’t need me gloating. I’m sure you’re beating yourself up over it just fine.”
I groaned. Every night since the Battle of Obsidian Canyon, I’d dreamed of that final encounter with Edilman. How he’d destroyed the control medallion and left with the Sourcefire. It replayed over and over in my mind and I awoke every morning, angrier than ever.
And it wasn’t just Edilman. Every dream also featured an appearance by Bennock. In some ways, his betrayal hurt more. But I only had myself to blame for trusting Edilman. “What was he thinking?” I asked.
Callie tilted her head. “I suppose we’ll never find out now.”
And then, just as quickly as my anger had risen at the thought of Bennock’s betrayal, a rock settled in my stomach to think that he was now dead. Further proof that no good came from being around Edilman.
I nodded. “I guess that’s impossible now.”
“It doesn’t have to be. When this is all over, I’m going back to my studies. I’m going to find a new teacher and become a full mage.”
“Are you serious?” I asked. “After everything the Palatinate’s done . . .”
“But that’s exactly why. People are going to hate magic more than ever. I believe good can be done with magic. I don’t want people to forget that. I hope to show that not all mages are evil.”
As terrified as I was at the idea that I might not be able to return to Redvalor Castle someday and study again with the Dowager, I felt better knowing Callie had her life all figured out. If anyone could remind people that magic wasn’t just evil, it was Callie.
She led us confidently through the abandoned Palace to the laundry room. Once, this room crackled with magical energy as enchanted tubs washed the robes of the mages who resided in the Palace. Now, it was lifeless and filled with the stench of fetid water.
Garax and Luda pulled a square stone from the middle of the floor, revealing a shaft and a ladder. One by one, we descended into a network of caves. I grimaced. In all the months we’d spent hiding from the Palatinate, I was grateful we hadn’t hidden in any caves. I’d had my fill of them.
I took the lead and guided us through the earth-walled tunnels until our path ended in an expansive cavern. Callie spoke a word to her spellsphere. A ball of light appeared near the cavern ceiling and lit the area with a pale gray glow.
From wall to wall, the floor was covered with hundreds of tinderjack plants. Some of the volatile plants shook, getting ready to expel their fireblossom and expose the explosive pods within. Thankfully, Kolo never got the chance to blow up the Palace with this crop. Now we’d put it to a better use.
“It’ll be tricky getting these back to the mill,” I said, “but this should give the Scourge something to think about.”
“I always said you were brilliant, Jaxter.”
We all whirled around at the voice behind us. Talian stood in the tunnel from which we’d just emerged, his spellsphere shimmering in his hand. His right hand was scorched, the fingers fused together. Just behind him, a small group of cloaked mages stood, hands at their sides.
Callie ran and threw her arms around her cousin. Talian returned the gesture, then pointed to the cloaked figures behind him. “These are the other mages who helped fight the Palatinate from within. We’ve been living here since the Scourge was released. We didn’t know where to find you. What have you been doing?”
Ma quickly explained how we’d turned the old mill into our base and were preparing for the Scourge’s imminent arrival. Talian listened carefully and nodded.
“We can help you bind the tinderjack pods so you can get them through the quickjump safely. It won’t hurt to have some explosives on hand. But . . .” Talian paused. “You may change your minds on what to do once we tell you what we know.”
36
Message Received
“Rich coats oft mask poor hearts.”
—Ancient par-Goblin proverb
When we returned to the mill hours later, we were met with cheers as hundreds of tinderjack pods—bound safely with magic so they wouldn’t detonate—fell through the quickjump ring, increasing the power of our arsenal tenfold.
The cheering stopped, however, when we brought Talian and the other mages through. The restless rebels started shouting. Swords were brandished. Ma raised her voice, trying to keep everyone cool, but it did no good. The mages huddled together as curse words flew in their direction. My blood ran cold as a voice from the back yelled, “Kill the mages!” and the rebels surged forward.
The mages pulled out their spellspheres, ready for a fight. But Ma threw herself in front of Talian.
“Stop!” she shouted. Remarkably, everyone did. She straightened her tunic and pointed to the mages. “They’re allies. This is Talian. He’s the one who told us about the caravan in the first place. They’ve been working against the Palatinate to help us.”
Kendil stepped forward. The few Sarosans who’d survived the battle stood behind him. Reena and Holm stood at their father’s side.
“We will not work with mages,” Kendil declared. The Sarosans shouted in agreement.
“Oh, yes, you will.”
The Dowager’s voice cut through the din. She stepped through the crowd and walked right up to Kendil. She looked up at the much taller man and didn’t bat an eye.
“The Scourge is comprised of creatures of great magical power. I understand the Sarosans’ hatred of magic. But it will take an equally powerful magic to defeat the monsters. If you disagree, you and your people are free to leave. Right now.”
The room erupted in more arguments, some saying we should work with the mages, others demanding their removal. As the shouting grew louder, I threw back my head and shouted.
“The Palatinate is in Vengekeep!”
Silence. With that one statement, we were united again. If only for that moment. I nudged Talian.
“Once the control medallion was destroyed,” the young mage said, “the Palatinate lost control of the monsters. They knew they had no hope of regaining control without the Sourcefire. So every last mage gathered and went south.”
“Why Vengekeep?” Mr. Oxter asked.
“When the Lordcourt realized that the Scourge had started the destruction in the north, they went to the farthest southern town-state. They’ve used magic to enhance the Vengekeep’s existing defenses. The hope is that the Scourge will weaken by the time it gets that far south and it will be easier for the Palatinate to destroy.”
“But it’s not getting weaker,” the Dowager said. “From everything we’ve heard, the Scourge is stronger than ever.”
Talian nodded. “I know. We”—he pointed to the other mages—“have been looking for a way to weaken it. But the monsters have destroyed every magical stronghold they find.”
“Aubrin,” Da said. He moved across the room and took Ma’s hands. “Is Aubrin in Vengekeep?”
“Most likely,” Ma said.
“She’s the only one who can warn the Palatinate before the Scourge attacks,” Talian said. “They’ll be keeping her safe.”
I knew my sister. She wouldn’t do anything to help the Palatinate. Even if warning them meant they could protect her.
Magical strongholds. Talian had said that’s what the Scourge was destroying. That’s why they spared some towns and destroyed others. But what did that accomplish? Why attack only where magic was present . . . ?
As the discussion continued, I plunged through the crowd and examined the Dowager’s map again. I ran my finger down the line I’d drawn through the last three attacks. I continued moving northwest to southeast across the Provinces until . . .
“The Scourge is going to Vengekeep,” I said.
The Dowager examined where my finger had come to rest. It was at the very end of the line I’d drawn.
“Well, now we know what the Scourge is looking for,” Mr. Oxter said. “They’re seeking revenge on the Palatinate for enslaving them.”
No, I thought. These creatures were driven by instinct. Revenge didn’t feel right.
“If they’re going to Vengekeep to destroy the Palatinate,” Kendil said, “then I say we let them.” A grumble of support echoed throughout the crowd.
“The zoc you will!” Ma said. “If the Scourge is headed there, I’ll warn the Palatinate myself if it means they’ll protect my daughter.”
The arguing resumed, louder than ever. And there it was again: the feeling I was overlooking something. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out the furor. No, there was another reas
on the Scourge was headed to Vengekeep. I just couldn’t grasp it. I needed to think.
As everyone shouted, I crept from the room and walked out the front door of the mill. A cool fall breeze chilled my bare arms. I strolled past the field where Uncle Garax had parked the Ghostfire house and down to the stream, following it south. With silence at last, I focused my thoughts on what we knew.
The Scourge had destroyed magical strongholds. That’s what they all had in common. And the Scourge was made of magical energy. They must have been able to sense magic.
So maybe they were on their way to Vengekeep because they sensed that’s where all the mages had gone. That or they sensed something else . . .
I probably would have figured it out right there and then if I hadn’t been distracted by a hand that clamped around my mouth from behind. I’d walked so far that the mill was no longer in sight. Before I could react, an arm gripped me tightly around the chest and dragged me into the forest.
I struggled and screamed but my captor held tight. We went deeper into the darkness of the woods until I saw a distant campfire.
When we arrived at a small clearing, I found a hooded figure kneeling next to the fire. Suddenly, my captor let go. I whirled around to find Bennock standing over me. I looked into the acolyte’s eyes. They were fierce but sad. Like he knew this was wrong but he had no choice. His firm stance told me I’d never succeed if I tried to get away.
“Have a seat, Jaxter,” the hooded figure said.
“I’d heard you were dead, Edilman,” I said. “At least, that’s what I hoped.”
“Give me a chance to explain,” Edilman said. His voice sounded pinched and weak. “You owe me that much.”
“I owe you?” I stepped toward him. “You’re the reason the Provinces are burning!”
Edilman reached out, holding Aubrin’s journal. “Read it.”
“What?”
“I told you before the battle that Sister Andris had finished translating the message. The message you were so sure would turn the tide of the war. Read what it says.”
We glared at each other, the only sound coming from the crackling fire. Finally, I opened the journal and scanned the text. Sister Andris had made small notations in the margins. A translation appeared under the message, written in a shaky hand. With each word, I grew more and more disbelieving. And by the time I got to the end—the signature—I knew something was wrong.
