by Dave Skinner
“Your instructor will be here on the last two days of the school week. I will make sure you are excused from classes, Lee. Bray, you will assist me with weapon’s instructions with your class. Your competition with Ran has already made you better than all of them. Have you chosen the weapon you will specialize with?”
“No, not yet.”
“Then I would like to make a suggestion.” Waycan arose and went to a chest along the back wall. He returned with a bundle wrapped in a fine red cloth.
“It is time to return these to you,” he said as he lay the bundle down and removed the cloth cover revealing the two Nadian daggers Bray had used for swords as a child. “I think you should specialize with these.”
Bray knew immediately that Waycan spoke the truth. He felt the affinity he had with the knives. Nadian blades were said to contain magic. Bray could feel it reaching out to him. The blades were sheathed in a wide belt which Bray did not remember. With the buckle at the front the blades would be held in a horizontal position on his back with each handle pointing in the opposite direction. One handle available to each hand.
“They look much shorter then I remember, and I do not remember the belt.”
“That is because the belt is new. I had it made for you. How long do you think the knives are?”
“They look to be as long as my forearm, but I remember them being longer.”
“Pull one,” Waycan suggested.
The knife grew at least a hand’s span as it was drawn from the sheath.
“The Hobs made the sheaths and added a little magic, but refused to accept payment from me, in appreciation for what you did for Runswick and his family,” Waycan informed him.
“Did they make a present for me too?” Lee asked.
“Not yet, but they will. You have to wait until you are old enough for specialty training and make your choice before you receive it.”
“But I will be training with Bray as he does his specialty training. I should receive my present now also.”
“You still have much to learn before you specialize. Have patience, youngster, your day will come. Now, one last thing before you head back to class. Your instructor would like to meet you both.”
As if on cue the door to the hallway opened and a woman stepped into Waycan’s small office. There was some grey showing in her brown hair, but she was still impressive. There was a vitality about her that could not be denied. She was as tall as Bray and was dressed in a short leather jerkin belted at the waist that left her legs exposed. They were her most striking feature for they bulged with muscles.
“Ta’Chen, allow me to introduce Bray and Ta’Lee, your new students. Young people, I am pleased to present Ta’Chen the renowned dancer.”
“A dancer? I thought I was to receive weapons training, not dance instructions.”
“I will teach you the body movements that are required to become a master,” Chen answered.
“No offence, mistress, but I already know how to move,” Bray answered.
“Show me,” she countered. When Bray failed to move she prompted him again. “Hit me,” she ordered.
“It is too close in here, we should go outside.”
“No, this will be fine. Hit me.”
Bray looked to Waycan for instruction but received nothing in response, so he snapped a straight left jab at the woman’s head. He missed. Chen shifted ever so slightly and his fist flew past her head.
“A little more speed is needed. Try again,” Chen commanded.
Bray threw a combination left-right towards her body. Again she shifted. Again he missed, but while his right arm was extended Chen’s hand brushed it and he stumbled forward, landing on the floor.
Chen turned to Waycan. “I see what you mean. He has speed and strength, but his balance is all wrong. Still he displays promise. He could be a master if he can learn to dance.”
Chapter 17
“Show us the money first, big talker,” the woman said.
Baragarden slipped his hand into his pouch and pulled out the two coins he had enchanted earlier. They looked to have more value than their true worth.
“Big pay for big women,” he said.
These two were the largest women he had come across on the Street of Pleasure. Both were heavy with fleshy faces, large bosoms, and ample buttocks. They looked even bigger beside his scrawny body as he walked them up the street to the small room he was renting. He only hoped they had the quantity of blood he needed. After this deed, he would have to move on to another town regardless of the success here tonight. This was the dingiest part of town inhabited by the lowest of the population, but regardless, after he finished with his plan his life would be forfeit if he was captured.
“A real dandy,” the one with visible black roots said as he motioned them to enter before him. It was the last thing they said. As he closed the door, he uttered the controlling spell he had worked out. Both women stopped moving, frozen like stone.
With a hand on the shoulder of the one he called black roots; he walked her sideways off the rug that covered the floor. He moved the other woman to the far side of the rug using the same hand-on-shoulder control. Then he rolled back the floor covering, revealing the complex pattern he had painted.
Around a central circle he had drawn an eight-pointed star. The four longest points were located precisely on the four quarter positions of a navigation bowl. All four points ended in circles containing magical symbols of power. The smaller star points were located between the larger ones. Each of those ended in a drawing of a phase of the moon—full, waning, waxing, and new. The complete design was enclosed in another circle that touched the apexes of the larger star points, but left the circles containing the power symbols outside its perimeter.
Baragarden now positioned the two women within the power circles located across from each other at the north and south poles of the star. He forced them to kneel, and then bound them with their hands tied behind them to their feet. He gagged each one and added a leather strap around their heads which he then tied to their feet, after pulling their heads back to expose their throats. When everything was the way he wanted he released the binding spell. The women struggled but were unable to move.
The wizard consulted a scroll for some time then, positioning himself within the largest circle, he began to chant. Mantis-like, he progressed around the inside perimeter of the circle, four circuits one way, and then four the other, timing each circuit to a stanza of the spell. With one stanza left he was positioned at the circle containing the black-rooted woman.
The woman’s eyes were alive with hatred, which turned to fear as he pulled the sacrificial dagger from beneath his robe. He intoned the first two lines of the last stanza before he cut her throat. As her blood flowed into the circle, he advanced at the same measured pace around the perimeter finishing the last two lines of the stanza as he reached the second women. He cut her throat on the last word, turned to face the centre, and spoke a word of power.
Within the central circle a stygian blackness grew. It sucked the daylight into itself until the room was cast in twilight pallor. A sound started softly, building to gale-like intensity. Far away he heard what he thought was screaming. It continued for only a moment, and then, with a popping sound, everything returned to normal. Something dropped into the centre of the circle.
When Baragarden sensed that the gathered forces had dissipated, he retrieved the item that had appeared. It looked like a bloody piece of hide about the size of his outstretched hand sitting on an equally bloody piece of linen. When he picked it up and cleaned it off, he found that hide was an appropriate term. The thing was covered in interlocking, six-sided scales. He smiled. He may have failed to bring something significant across, but he felt he was headed in the right direction.
Moving quickly, Baragarden packed up his possessions. He had to be away from this town before the bodies were discovered. He wrapped the hide and placed it into his pack. It might b
e used to enhance the spell, he thought as he slipped out the door, and he definitely needed more blood.
Chapter 18
“Father, Mother,” Mearisdeana called as she charged through the front door of her parent’s home. “Come and see what I have grown.” She shed her cloak and allowed her dayskin to fade away.
Her father, Aharadeana, came into the entrance way from his office. Her mother, Clarisdeana, entered from the kitchen wearing an apron. Mearisdeana held the item out for their inspection.
“What is it?” her mother asked.
“The texts refer to it as … carrot. There are seeds stored at the university, but none have grown here on KaAn for many years. I grew it in filtered light in an enclosure at the agriculture school. It is an edible root.”
Her father reached an arm around her and gave her a hug, “That is wonderful. We can cut it up and have it with dinner.”
“Is it safe to eat?” her mother asked.
“Perfectly safe, Mother, the text said that people would skin it first, so I will help you prepare it.” The doorbell chimed as they moved into the kitchen.
Mearisdeana pealed the carrot by scraping it with a knife. She cut a small slice and tasted it.
“What is it like?” her mother asked.
“It’s crunchy and … fresh. I suppose that is the best way to describe it.”
Just then her father called from the entrance way.
“You go, Mother. I will finish the preparations,”
“Everything is ready except for your … thing.”
“Carrot, mother, it is a carrot.”
Her mother removed her apron and left the kitchen. As Mearisdeana continued to slice the carrot she half listened to the conversation from the other room. The visitor was introduced. He had a message for her father in his capacity as headman of the town. It must be a written message for she heard the rustle of foil, and then her father assured the man that he would have the message circulated.
“We are about to take our morning meal. Please stay and share it with us,” she heard her mother say. “You do not want to be out in the sun, surely.”
“Yes, please,” her father added as Mearisdeana finished her cutting and moved to enter the room.
“Thank you for the offer, but I must not tarry,” the man said as Mearisdeana entered.
He wore riding gloves and a long cloak with the hood up, so his features were hidden from her. In fact all she could see was the sparkle of his eyes set back in the shadow of the hood as he glanced towards her.
“Then again, I have been riding since moonrise last eve. Something other than trail rations would be a pleasant change.”
The man proceeded to remove his gloves and then his cloak. As his features became visible, Mearisdeana almost choked as she gulped air. He was a powerful figure even in his nightskin. Wide shoulders, a broad chest, and a thick neck gave the impression of great strength. His waist was thin, his legs were muscular, and he possessed the most handsome features. Mearisdeana had seen his countenance many times. An older version of this face, the king’s face, was stamped on every coin in the realm. Mearisdeana suddenly remembered the half heard introduction. Adamtay, Prince Adamtay, the king’s son.
Her father was speaking. “Your highness, allow me to introduce our daughter, Mearisdeana. She is an agriculture researcher at the university, and today she brought home a treat for our meal. What did you say it was called, Mearisdeana?”
Her mind refused to find an answer. It was stuck on those gorgeous blue eyes. For what seemed like an eternity she stood there basking in their warm glow before she shook herself mentally—at least she hoped it was mentally.
“Carrot,” she blurted. Then in a more controlled voice, “It is called a carrot, Father.” She sank into an awkward curtsy, “I am pleased to meet you, Your Highness.”
“Please call me Adamtay,” he responded as he stepped forward and raised her back to her feet. “A researcher, you must tell me all about your work. I have always wondered how we can grow anything under KaAn’s blazing sun. It seems to be getting hotter every year.”
Now on familiar ground, Mearisdeana explained her research to the prince while the table was set. Her father brought a bottle of water to the table in honour of their royal guest. Mearisdeana knew it was a treasure he had been hording for a very special occasion. The prince did not comment on the water, but he did praise the carrot.
While they ate, Mearisdeana talked about her research. During a lull in her dissertation Ahardeana changed the subject.
“Adamtay has informed me about some strange occurrences that are happening throughout the realm. People have reported disturbances, like tiny cyclones, suddenly springing into existence.”
“Do you think it is a weather phenomenon,” Mearisdeana asked.
“It may be. We do not have enough evidence at this time to understand them. What we realized after the last occurrence is that they always happen in the vicinity of young females. The last one injured a woman. It seemed to try to pull her in, but it was so small that it ended up tearing a patch of skin from her back.”
“That is terrible. She should have changed to her dayskin,” Mearisdeana’s mother offered.
“She did. It tore a section of her dayskin right off.” Silence settled around the table as the family tried to fathom the force required to do that.
“My father has sent out messengers to all areas of the realm to warn people about this. We want everyone to be vigilant around their daughters. These things seem to be getting larger and stronger. Now, I must be on my way. I have three more days of travel before heading back to the capital.”
The family saw the prince to the door where he donned his cloak and gloves. He turned back to Mearisdeana’s father before leaving. “Please get the message out to your people as soon as possible, and be particularly vigilant in your own home. We would not want anything to happen to your beautiful daughter. In fact, I would like to return when my mission is complete to offer my personal protection to her and perhaps share another meal.”
Her father glanced at Mearisdeana and saw the smile on her face. “I think that would be agreeable, Your Highness.”
“Good, then I hope to see you again in five days.” His eyes swung to each face, but spent the most time on Mearisdeana’s.
Chapter 19
The wizard, Baragarden, retrieved the item from the centre circle. This time it was part of an arm, covered in scales like the other two pieces, but still only an arm, severed about midway between the elbow and the shoulder. Muttering non-magical curses, he stowed his equipment into his pack, stepping carefully to avoid the blood from the bodies of the four women. He surveyed the old cabin for any items he had overlooked. Satisfied, he stepped outside, turned, and flung a fireball in through the doorway. He was at the top of the nearest hill before he stopped to watch the cabin blaze.
Another failure, the voice in his head chided him.
“Not a complete failure,” he responded. “This piece is much larger.”
Larger yes, but overall the spell has only retrieved a flap of skin, a hand, and an arm. How you can call yourself a wizard is beyond understanding. You should give up and return home. You could get your job back as pig boy.
“Shut up! I will not return until I have my demon to command. Then the old man will cower before me. I will have him whipped like he did me before I have his entrails pulled out. Now leave me alone. I have to think.”
Whatever you say, oh grand and powerful wizard.
***
Do you think that reading the spell through again is going to help you?
“Yes I do.”
Then enlighten me, great master wizard. What solution have you found to your problem? Are we to find six women, or eight, or perhaps we can butcher ten this time. Is that your answer?
“No, there is something else. It is the blood, but not the volume as I thought. The passage is vague, but I now believe it says ‘wit
h blood on them’ not ‘with blood in them’ as I had first read it.”
I would like to remind you that the women you have butchered had blood all over them by the time you were finished. What more are you looking for?
“They must have blood on them before I start the ritual.”
So you are going to beat them before you start the spell?
“No. I believe they must be at their time of the month.”
And just how do you propose to find four women who have the same time of the month?
“I have not figured that part out yet. We will push on to Bakerstown. The answer will have presented itself by the time we arrive.”
***
We have been here for a month, oh mighty wizard. Have you found your answer yet because I am getting tired of the smell of ale?
Baragarden ignored the voice and continued picking up beer mugs. The voice was right. A solution had not presented itself. He had run low on money, so he was working in this dive of a bar on another street of pleasure, waiting for inspiration. Unfortunately, inspiration was proving elusive.
He was squeezing between two chairs on his way to empty his tray when he spilled a small amount of stale beer on a man’s shoulder.
“Watch it, boy, or you will end up eating those mugs.” Baragarden slunk off to the kitchen without saying a word.
“What’s wrong with everyone tonight?” he asked the cook whose name he could never remember. “Everyone’s ornery.”
“The cause is in the whore house across the street. They are closed, and these men have been missing their pleasure for a few days now.”
“Why is the pleasure house closed?”
“They close for a few days every month. All the whores have their monthly time together. It has something to do with them all living and working in the same place, or that is what I’ve heard. Who knows, maybe they just need a rest.”
Chapter 20
