The Sorcery Within

by Dave Smeds

  “Obo is trying, Lady Nanth."

  “Obo has been without food or sleep for two days. If Keron is so badly hurt as to require such an effort, how can it be possible that he will live?” She bowed her head, bringing out her tendency for a double chin, one of the slight flaws that chipped at her noble vanity.

  “If we could find him...” she murmured. “How many men did you send?"

  “Five from the ship. Another five of our agents near Garthmorron will be joining them."

  “You could send ten—twenty...” She turned and paced, looking everywhere but at her listener, though his eyes never left her.

  “I could not,” he said firmly. “An army of ours in the vicinity would only antagonize the Cilendri, if not attract the Dragon's forces."

  “You can't abandon him, Admiral Warnyre,” she said.

  The man's jaw tightened. “Lady Nanth, the only reason this ship remains near the coast is so Obo can manage to work his spell. And once he is done—whatever the outcome—we must sail south to open waters. I am doing all I can. Your husband would agree—he wouldn't endanger the fleet for one man."

  She pressed a hand against the grillwork and knotted it into a fist. “I hate this sea,” she said through tears.

  Warnyre shifted uncomfortably, feeling the stiffness of muscles no longer honed to a military edge. “You should sleep."

  Her fist uncoiled; her shoulders drooped. “No. Obo needs my attention. He endangers himself with this effort."

  Out of her sight, he frowned. “I will send Lady Heormaphta and her maid to look after him, as will I myself when duties allow."

  Nanth shook her head. “This is the critical time. I must stay with Obo. In fact, I shouldn't have left now. I took this upon myself when I married an ambitious man. We could have lived out our days at court, in safety. But Keron wanted the chance to distinguish himself, and I will be the first to know if he has failed. Thank you for your consideration, Admiral."

  “Yes, milady. As you wish,” Warnyre said tersely. He stood such that, when she passed by, he could catch the scent of her hair, then followed her out. As they parted ways, he muttered to himself.

  Lady Nanth's thoughts were filled with visions of the civilized comforts of life in the capital, where feminine companionship consisted of more than a handful of other officers’ wives and maids. Once, when she was single, a noted diplomat had asked for her hand—but she had wanted better. When she had caught Keron, she'd assumed, from his heritage, that she had obtained her goal.

  Obo still stared at the bowl, eyelids half-closed. Small shudders coursed over his wizened body. Without disturbing the wizard's concentration, Nanth filled a dipper from the barrel near the hull and raised it to his lips. He gave no sign that he noticed her, other than to gradually suck up a mouthful.

  After several sips, he seemed calmer. He spoke for the first time in days, though he did not seem to be speaking to her.

  “Take off the belt, you idiot.”

  * * *

  VIII

  ALEMAR COUGHED AS A CLOUD of dust hit him in the face. He wished for dunes again; the sand slowed them down, but spared the lungs. He envied those at the front of the line. The caravan transformed the road to powder long before the twins and those in their position passed by.

  It was a crepuscular existence—up and moving before dawn, resting for hours at midday, active well into the night. They moved slowly, the entire clan travelling as a group. The men rode oeikani, if they had them to spare. The women and children walked, carrying tent poles and whatever household goods that could not be loaded onto pack animals. Elder boys ranged to either side, allowing the livestock to graze. The pace never exceeded a common walk. When forage was abundant, it slowed or stopped altogether.

  Elenya rode just ahead, and slightly apart, from her brother and “their” family. Though her face was cowled, her upper body was bare. She held her chest out, nipples forward, covering them only incidentally when she brushed the grit off her breasts and shoulders. She stared straight ahead and spoke to no one, not even Alemar.

  Occasionally, one of the women in the caravan, but more often one of the small children, would stare in her direction, only to turn away suddenly if noticed. But no one spoke. Only once, when she had first opened her robes earlier that day, had Fumlok tried.

  “Is there a law against it?” she had asked.

  The scenery shifted gradually, but filled the senses. The region was high plateau. Though their road on average remained at one elevation, the terrain frequently dipped into sudden, severely eroded gullies, rose into scarred mesas thousands of feet above the valley floor, and in odd, unexpected places, supported life. A low-lying landmark could vanish behind them in less than an hour's walk, while ahead a particularly prominent rock formation had not changed during two days of travel. They followed wadis that opened out onto dry plains crusted with salts and minerals, but never to bodies of water.

  The T'lil consisted of five clans—the T'krt, the T'lan, the Kol, the Ena, and the Hysic. At first it astonished Alemar to learn how much territory these five families owned, until he grasped what prodigious amounts of the sere land it took to support an individual. The T'krt numbered less than a thousand, the entire T'lil nation less than three thousand, counting in Zyraii fashion: adult males only. For the most part, they strung out over the land in small knots of immediate kin, often no more than three or four adults, only to such density as could support their animals. They gathered for migration and raids on neighbors. At the moment, the cause was the annual trek to the Ahloorm Basin, the long plain split by the only continuously running stream in the nation, the Ahloorm, which meant simply “the river.” The Zyraii controlled its upper portion, while the city-states of Surudain and Nyriya held the coast to either side of its delta.

  “Is it like this all the way to the Demon Mountains?” Alemar asked.

  “One part of Zyraii is never the same as the rest,” Fumlok said, avoiding the challenge of describing his country using the High Speech.

  The twins had lived among the Zyraii for ten days, long enough that the curious no longer wandered in their direction. Already teachers had taken them through myriad lessons on history, geology, weather, theology, desertcraft, martial training, and, most of all, obedience. People had started to converse with Alemar, encouraging, in their taciturn way, his stumbling attempts to speak Zyraii. Knowledge threatened to ooze out of their pores. Yet they had only touched the surface. For the moment, the instructors concentrated upon the language.

  Elenya noticed a tent-maker observing her, so she deliberately scratched the bottom of one of her breasts. The man looked away.

  Fumlok occasionally tried to reason with her, but to no effect. It had also been he who had originally tried to explain to her that she was really a man. It had taken a substantial amount of time, considering that his entire argument stemmed from one thesis—the laws of the So-de'es must be obeyed.

  “Who makes the laws?” she had demanded.

  “God, of course.” It had astonished Fumlok that in other countries, men had the audacity to decide their own laws.

  “What happens when a law is no longer needed? What if one needs to be changed?"

  “God's laws do not need to be changed."

  “What would happen if a law were not clear? Who would interpret it?"

  “We must ask God."

  She had made rude noises. “How does one talk to God?"

  “The Zee-no-ken talk to God,” he had answered matter-of-factly. “They sit alone in the hills and meditate. If they are true of spirit and do not falter, they hear God's voice. In this way God passes down His word. If the need is urgent, we call upon the High Scholar at Setan, and he journeys to God's Peak."

  “Then I'd like a word with God,” she had announced.

  Fumlok had sighed. It was clear that Elenya was not going to make a very good man.

  * * * *

  The first cricket of evening chirped, and in the west the sun settled into its
bower behind the mountains. The front end of the caravan looped around and coupled with the rear, forming a protective circle. The animals flowed to the inside, sheep bleating, while the people moved to the edges. Soon boys took small clusters of pack animals, freed from their burdens, out to brief grazing.

  Lonal weaved casually through the throng, occasionally offering suggestions to the camp-makers that would increase the impregnability of the defenses. He approached the twins.

  "Nannon abat se," he said.

  "Se, gomo," Alemar answered. Elenya looked the other way.

  Lonal regarded her in a friendly manner, staring frankly at her bust. “You'll get sunburned that way,” he said.

  “I'm trying to wither them so I'll look like a proper male."

  He nodded. “That's a good idea. I hadn't thought of that.” He nudged his oeikani with his knees and resumed his tour.

  Elenya stared after him with a gaze too cold to suit the climate.

  “Tonight,” she told Alemar.

  * * * *

  They slept in the open, under a canopy of moons. Small tents and partially erected larger ones surrounded them, whatever was necessary to screen private activities. The tribe wouldn't remain more than one night here.

  Sentries paced the perimeter. Insects and small creatures of the night became bolder, encouraged by lack of human noise. The stars of the clear, arid sky daunted illusions of significance.

  Elenya turned toward Alemar. He was staring at the void.

  “Ready?"

  He drew off the coverlet from his fully clothed body.

  They rose. The wives and children slept soundly. Hastily they re-created their bedrolls such that it appeared they still occupied them. Darting from tent to tent, they filtered their way to the edge of the camp, slipping out behind a sentry.

  They glided into open desert, the night consuming them. They went east, the least likely direction. Ahead lay a slope gnawed by nature, where the land climbed into a series of rugged hills, full of cover, with plenty of rock to hide spoor.

  In between remained two leagues of flat ground, where they could easily be overtaken. At first they moved slowly, hugging the earth, stopping behind brush or mounds of grass. Once they had travelled beyond the range of even sharp-eared sentries, they paused.

  They reached inside their collars, and withdrew identical gold necklaces, each adorned with a single large emerald. Standing close to one another, they touched the jewels together and concentrated. First one amulet, then the other, flashed with a jubilant green light, alternating more and more rapidly until the glow became constant. Alemar and Elenya stepped away, satisfied.

  Now let the Zyraii dare to give chase.

  Moonlight gave them a clear view of the terrain. Sure-footed, swift, and well rested from the ten days with the tribe, they no longer had to pace themselves or hide what they could do. Elenya set the speed, her lean legs thrusting the sand and soil behind with each step.

  Alemar smelled the clean desert wind, felt it caress his hair. Although there were no trees to dodge nor logs to leap, he was at home. No distance or change of nations had taken away his legs, nor the jewel at his throat.

  * * * *

  Dawn would soon pale the silhouettes that slipped past them every few strides. Elenya, her initial, exultant burst of energy spent, had let Alemar lead for the long-term jog. As the flush of excitement leaked away, they no longer dreamed so freely of avoiding pursuers who knew the land and outnumbered them by many dozens, but no sounds of pursuit had reached them.

  Still, there was a peculiar sense of unease in the air. It had become increasingly distinct within the past hour. Finally, Elenya commented on it, and Alemar pulled out his amulet to check it.

  It glowed now not simply with the pleasant forest green of their own spell, but with the deep tones that warned of foreign magic being cast upon them.

  They turned worried faces toward their trail, but still could detect nothing.

  “They have a sorcerer,” Elenya said grimly.

  “They must,” Alemar agreed. They heightened their speed.

  * * * *

  The amulets were now hot with warning, yet the twins could hear no one behind them. A new shadow grew on the path. It emerged low and square, only the regularity of its shape distinguishing it from the increasing number of rocky knolls that pimpled the region. Alemar and Elenya slowed but retained their route, straight toward the feature. They were quite near before the light of the moons finally allowed them to identify it.

  They stopped.

  Bereft of the cooling wind of his passage, Alemar could now feel the heat radiate from his skin. The meditation born of steady exertion dissolved.

  They faced a mound of stone set, without mortar, slightly higher than they could reach, and about fifteen paces along each square side. They could see no openings. Marks of weather indicated considerable age. Its surface gave no hint of recent use.

  They realized their error. The source of the magic was not the Zyraii behind them, but the object in front of them.

  “Let's go,” Elenya said in anxious tones.

  Only then did they see that they had entered a vaguely defined circle, its borders indicated by crumbling marker stones. They could guess its meaning, but nevertheless they tried to step back.

  They could not. Their heels and toes would not lift from the earth. Elenya's obscenities blistered the air, voice tinged with panic. Alemar struggled harder, finally dragging his foot painfully across the ground—a few inches, no more. The effort made him pant. Worse, the heaviness in his soles spread to his calves, then his thighs. He heard an impact behind him. Elenya had fallen. She lay in an unnatural posture, unfolding slowly, as if incapable of controlling her muscles. Numb now from the waist down, he swayed like a baby oeikani moments after its birth.

  They heard the sound of stone sliding against stone. A section rose from the top of the sepulcher, emitting the stench of air long confined, accompanied by the rustle of dry cloth.

  Alemar sank to his knees, fighting for consciousness. Dread kept his eyes open, watching as a bluish, glowing specter flowed out of the opening. Manlike arms reached out toward them as the wight issued its siren call.

  Each thought took far too long to circuit through his brain. He was crawling toward the cairn before he could, at last, put away his shock and conceive of a means to fight. Elenya writhed, snakelike, spittle on her lips, though managing for the moment to retain her distance from the wight and its sorcery.

  "Ec lu tinacht. Jin drenne o lieul..." The words creaked out of Alemar's throat, each syllable more painful than the last. The wight hesitated.

  Tingles coursed over Alemar's neck and face, returning remnants of human sensation. "Monacht abba Poseth!" he yelled.

  The specter wavered. Its cry thrust agony into Alemar's temples.

  "Poseth!" Elenya cried.

  "Poseth, lama ti Poseth!" the twins shouted in unison.

  The wight exploded, splintering into shards of blue radiance. The psychic impact pounded the twins into the dirt. Each flicker of blue flame sped up as it went, circling the others, somersaulting, broadcasting the ecstasy of release. A hundred souls grown small from centuries of captivity and domination expanded to their full glory. For a moment, it was daylight.

  But the dread did not leave.

  Weak with exhaustion beyond the physical, Alemar and Elenya raised onto their elbows, but their relief was smothered. Another wight floated out of the vault's interior, its azure fire dwarfing that of its predecessor, the malevolence of its spell mocking the earlier failure.

  But it held back, unable to prematurely calm the psychic chaos caused by the twins’ counterattack, shrinking from the odor of exorcism. It laid the heaviness on the bones of its prey, draining all but the strength to remain awake, and waited.

  Alemar heard hoofbeats.

  The phantom acted abruptly. It roused, flowing foglike down the surface of the cairn to reassemble at the base, not ten feet from where the twins l
ay. There it hesitated a moment, reluctant to leave the source of its power. It proceeded forward gradually, opening its noncorporeal lips and uttering a strident, potent call of invitation.

  The hands and knees of the twins responded, grudgingly, closing the gap.

  A single rider and his oeikani galloped forward into the faint, early dawn illumination. The wight reared, facing the newcomer.

  “Haiii-yahhh!” the rider shouted, drawing his scimitar. The wight opened its arms and grew until it was as tall and as wide as the mount, the glitter of its eyes betokening its hunger.

  The man flung himself from the oeikani at the last moment, landing so suddenly and with such poor preparation that he knocked himself out. The oeikani passed through the wight and collapsed, its momentum tumbling it over three times. The creature keened with joy, the blue of its shape momentarily deepening.

  As it turned back toward its human victims, ten more Zyraii rode into the site, beasts flecked with foam. Fear immediately contorted their faces. They shrank back. Lonal thundered between them on an exhausted buck.

  “Dismount! Surround them!” he yelled.

  They obeyed instantly, two men automatically rounding up the animals, which warbled their nervousness and would have scattered if not prevented. The wight screamed at them, but although knees shook, the tribesmen remained upright, keeping just outside the markers of the circle. They drew scimitars.

  “Forget the steel! Get torches!” Lonal cried.

  The wight held its ground, evaluating its opponents, while the men holding the oeikani retrieved resin-soaked shafts of bound sage from the saddlebags and threw them to the others. Alemar and Elenya stirred. Another ghostly scream shook the initiative out of their attempt. The specter advanced.

  Lonal lit his torch. Rapidly the others followed suit.

  The wight bellowed, fading as the light blared, becoming little more than a blue tinge on the walls of the mound. The Zyraii held the torches above their heads, the pallor of their faces revealed.

  The creature began to whirl its arms in circles, spinning until it lost all human configuration. Currents of air rose, a whirlwind with a blue, stationary core. The siren call increased. The twins moaned. The tribesmen fought back the urge to step into the circle and had difficulty keeping their eyes open. One of them fell down.