The Sorcery Within

by Dave Smeds

  They poured out onto the valley floor in the afternoon of the next day, having forsaken the midday rest in order to gain speed. They could no longer see the river on the horizon—their elevation was too low—but they were now well within traditional T'lil holdings. To either side, promontories thrust out into the flatland; once beyond these, they could see an enemy coming for miles. Lonal waited at the rear of the column, alert for any pursuit from the pass behind, but the last of his people had reached the plain and the anxiety was lifting off his shoulders. They were safe.

  Then, directly ahead, where no scouts had thought to patrol, a horde of white-robed men rose from behind shrubs or out of the trenches they had dug, brought their oeikani out of concealment, mounted, and charged the front of the caravan at full gallop.

  "Torovet!" Lonal cried. He cursed. Almost all of his Po-no-pha, like himself, were toward the rear or along the sides, guarding from attack from the promontories. The front was exposed. They hadn't expected attack from their own land. T'lil demonblades whisked into palms and the warriors sped to meet the assault.

  They were too late. The Buyul line splayed out into singles, each rider plunging between the retreating ranks of women, children, and elderly, toward the locations where livestock were gathered. Flails struck, shouts rang out, and soon sheep, goats, and oeikani panicked and began to bolt. Just as quickly, the Buyul disengaged and, though driving the animals farther from the caravan whenever the opportunity arose, drew weapons and prepared to meet the warriors.

  The invaders separated as widely as possible, likewise the defenders. The raid fractured into dozens of individual contests. Demonblades flew. Some went wild. Some were blocked by shields. Blood splattered the field, part of a Buyul ear falling with it. Then a T'lil went down. As the demonblades were exhausted, scimitars replaced them.

  Lonal hurried forward in vain. He was too far to the rear to make a difference. He reined up. He could spend his time more effectively being a war-leader, and organizing his people's disrupted defense.

  But now, the Buyul were in full retreat. If forced, they traded slashes, but in the main, they sought to escape. The raid evolved: now the objective of the Buyul was to drive livestock further afield, and that of the T'lil to prevent it.

  Lonal got the women and old men into tight formation, keeping the animals that remained securely in tow to thwart a possible second wave. Those of his Po-no-pha who, like himself, had been caught at the far rear, he ordered back to position, suspecting that a contingent of raiders might appear there yet. Then he scanned the conflict once more.

  He saw it immediately. Six choice purebred oeikani, unsaddled and fleet as the wind, had been driven by their fear far from the caravan. Riders of both tribes pursued them, the Buyul in the lead. However, well ahead of either group of riders, actually gaining on the oeikani, were two lithe figures on foot.

  * * * *

  Elenya narrowed her eyes to keep out the grit kicked up by the oeikani. She and Alemar were only a few body lengths behind the panicked animals. Her lungs were on fire, her legs throbbing, and her amulet fiercely radiant, but they had the momentum. She sidestepped a shrub that appeared abruptly out of the dust. Alemar split away, approaching the oeikani from the right side. She took the left.

  She was even now with the rearmost animal, but she ignored it, as did Alemar. One by one, they caught up with the others. As the lead beast veered to the left, she leaped onto its back and seized it by the mane.

  For several moments, all she could do was hold on. The run had winded her; she had no strength left to deal with a terror-stricken mount. She let it run freely, allowing it to become accustomed to her presence. When she dared, she glanced back and saw that Alemar had successfully landed on the second oeikani.

  Finally she gripped the mane and tugged. All six animals veered. She pointed them back toward the caravan.

  Immediately, the party of Buyul pursuing them began to close the gap. Elenya tried to circle, to buy time. The Buyul were themselves being chased by T'lil warriors.

  Inevitably, the Buyul bore down. But the raiders’ mounts were not as fresh as those they chased. Elenya and Alemar started to pull away. The lead Buyul flung his demonblade, forcing Alemar to duck. In a few more moments, however, the Buyul were too far behind, and were forced to break off in order to avoid their own pursuit.

  Elenya and Alemar raced for the caravan, only to be blocked by two more Buyul who had left the main battle. The latter waited. Elenya knew there was no point in trying to circle them. Instead, the twins charged straight ahead. The Buyul spurred their oeikani and met them at full run, scimitars extended.

  Elenya drew her rapier. As the warrior thrust out with his weapon, she jabbed him in the forearm. He dropped his weapon. She quickly glanced back. Alemar simply blocked his opponent's slash. The Buyul did not attempt to engage again. Like the rest of their tribe, they retreated southward. The twins reached the lines before other enemies could bother them, the six oeikani rescued.

  Only when they were safe did Elenya feel the pain in her shoulder. She had been too slow. The Buyul's scimitar had bitten her. She clapped her hand over the cut and forgot about it. There was still a fight going on.

  * * * *

  Lonal had watched most of the twins’ adventure, though occupied with his responsibilities. The raid was nearly over. A Buyul leaned far down from his saddle and scooped up a lamb. Another had lassoed a oeikani and was pulling it in tow. The others either had their prizes or were in full flight. Lonal shouted orders, sending the warriors whose animals were the fleetest out to the pursuit, keeping the others in reserve to protect the women and goods. Then he saw Yetem riding out, the cloth against her shoulder stained a dark crimson, with a quiver on her back and a bow already strung.

  "Na tet!" he yelled at her, but she was oblivious, already racing to catch up with the Buyul.

  Lonal heard Tebec shout also. The westerner started after her, but stopped almost immediately and reached within his collar. Lonal saw him withdraw something attached to a gold chain, the actual object hidden in his fist. He pressed it to his forehead. Green light flickered through his fingers.

  Yetem suddenly relaxed her arm, even as it had been drawing back an arrow, and reined up. She stared back at Tebec. He held his fist to his forehead for a moment more. Strangely subdued, she started back toward the tribe.

  Lonal, eyes riveted to Tebec, waited until the latter had restored the chain inside his garments. He hurried to check the status of his tribe.

  All told, three of his Po-no-pha were dead, several more wounded, one mortally. The Buyul had left five on the field, and as many more had hung limply from their beasts as they fled. More dead than there should have been, had he not been taken unaware by Buyul guile. His mood was black as he rode over to the twins. Tebec was bandaging the wound near his sister's collarbone.

  “Do you want to start a vendetta?” he asked sternly.

  “Is this a war or not?” she demanded, equally sharp. “We could have quadrupled our effectiveness with arrows!"

  “So could the Buyul. This is torovet. We must conduct ourselves with honor."

  “They attacked us! How honorable is that?"

  “If the Buyul had let us by unmolested, they would have had to concede that the pass belonged to the T'lil."

  “I don't believe it. This whole fight happened just so you could all prove your manhood."

  Lonal was so angry he could barely continue to use the High Speech. “I should have realized one such as you would not understand."

  She started to retort.

  “No,” he said. “If you are without honor, you aren't free to judge us. Until you learn the laws of battle, keep out of it. Stay with the women."

  He didn't permit her to respond. Tebec prevented her from following, pressing her down firmly in order to finish tending her wound. Lonal wanted the tribe mobile. They would make a forced march into the valley, deeper into T'lil territory, where they could lick their wounds and he endure his s
hame in peace.

  * * *

  XIII

  THE BOTTOM OF THE FISHING BOAT passed over, three fathoms up, barnacles plainly visible on her hull through the crystal water. Lerina giggled, creating bubbles. She and Ethmurl were safely camouflaged among the coral and kelp of the ocean floor. If Lerina guessed correctly, the men in the boat were searching for her and/or the murderer of Luo of Eruth, never dreaming they were so close to their goal.

  She was breathing normally, though she occasionally succumbed to the urge to reach up to her face and feel the membrane of the airmaker. It was strange to think that she could actually breathe more easily underwater than could a fish. Fish, after all, had to keep swimming at least slightly in order to keep water—and oxygen—flowing through their gills. She watched the bubbles of her exhalation race one another upward.

  Ethmurl nudged her. The boat was out of sight. They set out, keeping just above the profuse life of the bottom, she a few strokes behind to his right. So much to see. Anemones, crustaceans, coral, fish, silt rich with flickers of color. She had caught glimpses of all of these on her many dives over the years but had never been able to float next to the thing she was looking at and examine it at her leisure. Air had always been the limitation, driving her inevitably back to the surface. Now, with the magic of the artificial lung, she was free.

  But old habits died hard. She realized that she was holding her breath. She quickly exhaled. It caused her to sink a few inches, until her vest absorbed more air from the surrounding water and returned her to weightlessness. The vest, too, was a joy: no more energy wasted simply trying to maintain a specific depth. Moreover, at the surface she could keep her head above water without being forced to tread.

  She tickled an anemone with a pebble and watched it close. A tiny squid rewarded her with a squirt of ink and an arrow-quick dash into a crevice. She delighted to watch crabs dragging their stolen shells across the sediment. She was getting used to everything seeming larger than it actually was.

  And the noise! She had never realized how pervasive it was. In the kelp, the shrimp rattled their single claws endlessly, calling to her with their aquatic voices. Though it was difficult to determine which direction sounds came from, the variety never diminished.

  All too soon it was time to stop.

  She didn't want to, but neither did she want to tax Ethmurl. He was much better, but he still had a great deal of recuperating to do. No sense in endangering his progress by tiring him out swimming. Whatever advantages the healing spell had provided now seemed entirely gone; he mended like a normal man. In a way, that was reassuring.

  As he had instructed her, they rose slowly, never exceeding the pace of the smallest of the bubbles they exhaled. She had never heard of the strange pain and death experienced when divers who used the airmaker surfaced too quickly, but she doubted Ethmurl would invent such a story. He had admitted they were not going to be deep enough to worry about it today; it was simply a good habit to maintain. Before very long they were topside.

  “That was wonderful!” she exclaimed as soon as she had removed her mask.

  Ethmurl was pensive. He scanned in the direction that the boat had gone. It was not in sight. He rechecked their beach. They had been careful to cover their signs, and the cave entrance was small, seeming to be only a shadow in the rock. Apparently the men in the boat had ignored the islet.

  “Oh, you fret too much,” she said.

  He shrugged and helped her unbuckle the straps of her vest. “I don't think I can change at this age."

  As she held her equipment, Lerina marvelled again at the workmanship. The headgear seemed so delicate, only a framework of goldlike metal across which stretched the transparent membranes, one for breathing, one for vision. The vests were more substantial, heavy out of the water, shaped so as to collect air in front of the chest and upper abdomen, with a hole for the head and a buckle behind the small of the back. Hers was blue; Ethmurl's was black.

  “Should we give these back to the faernak now?” Lerina asked.

  “Yes,” he replied. “No one knows how to make these anymore, except the straps, so it's best not to take chances.” At the back of the headgear, two shark-hide straps could be adjusted to customize the fit.

  While she held everything, he waded deeper and removed an engraved ring from his finger, lifted it to his mouth, and whistled through it. He had not waited long before a man-size tentacled shape brushed against his leg. Lerina handed him the airmakers and vests, which he gave to the creature. They watched it put everything into a pouch at the base of one of its many-suckered arms, after which it returned quickly to deeper waters.

  “I still can't believe it found you,” Lerina said, not nearly as startled as she had been when she had first glimpsed the faernak earlier that day.

  “It knows where the ring is, and never wanders far."

  “Aren't you afraid it will damage the airmakers?"

  He smiled. “They're far safer there than any place I can think of. The thing is well-trained, and long-lived, and I wouldn't care to try and forcibly take anything from a faernak under any circumstances. In fact, they were specifically bred for this function."

  “Who bred them?"

  “Alemar."

  “Alemar Dragonslayer, the great wizard?"

  He nodded. “The founder of Elandris. In order to build and maintain the cities beneath the sea, he made hundreds of thousands of airmakers. Or, to be truthful, his sister Miranda did. However, neither of them cared to share the secret of their manufacture, so it became vital to protect each one. They bred the faernaks to caretake the devices whenever the owners had to make journeys away from Elandris. In our own dwellings, of course, we have special troughs to keep them secure. It's surprising how few have been lost over the centuries since the great wizard vanished."

  “You mean no one has learned how to make them since?"

  “Alemar and Miranda were the greatest sorcerers in history. There's a great deal they could do that no one else has been able to. Killing dragons, for example."

  The sun had nearly dried them already. They sought refuge from its heat in the cave. Ethmurl lay down immediately. This had been the first day he had tried anything strenuous; it had clearly taken a great deal out of him. Lerina leaned back against the cave wall.

  “Do you suppose it's true, that the Dragon of our day is the child of the pair that Alemar killed?"

  Ethmurl brushed away an insect. “It's possible. Dragons live thousands of years. Gloroc could have been an infant of several centuries at the time that Faroc and Triss were defeated. It would explain why he wants to conquer Elandris. He can't have revenge on Alemar himself, so the next best thing is to steal the empire away from his descendants."

  “He seems to be succeeding."

  Ethmurl made a wry face. “Not entirely. We royalists have kept nearly half the kingdom free for almost a hundred years. It's as if the Worm were waiting to make his move. In any case, he seems nowhere near as formidable as his parents."

  “And where do you fit in, Ethmurl?"

  He met her glance. “I serve my liege."

  She didn't press the matter. Soon she flipped up the lid of their food basket. It settled back down with a hollow pud. “We have to leave tonight. You seemed to be all right in the water today. Do you think you can make the trip?"

  “We might as well try."

  “Good,” she said. “Get some rest."

  * * * *

  Night had closed in by the time she woke him up, darkness muted by Urthey, the smallest moon. Lerina felt odd to think of wearing clothes again, and it would be stranger still to see Ethmurl covered. It seemed a shame.

  “We can leave almost everything,” she said, taking only her garments and the water flasks. “I'll get it another time."

  “My belt,” Ethmurl said, and picked it up.

  “Why not just wear it?” she asked.

  “No,” he said, sounding strangely determined.

  The wistfulness of d
eparture strengthened. The cave had always been a favorite place, but with Ethmurl present, it had become very special indeed. She felt safe here.

  She led. The water put vigor back in her body. They dripped dry in the shadow of the bluff and put on their clothes, she the blouse and skirt she had come in, he his trousers and a quarn shirt she had taken from her father's wardrobe. Actually, he wore clothes well, she thought. She suggested that he proceed ahead of her up the bluff. She knew the terrain and could support him should he slip. He agreed.

  The forest welcomed her as they merged into the underbrush. Its fecund odor had never seemed quite so precious. She had always had plenty of the forest and less than she wanted of the beach; now finally the situation was reversed. He rested. The bluff had been almost too much for his wounded thigh. Several times she had been forced to brace him to keep him from losing his balance. She found a broken branch and gave it to him to use as a walking stick. She walked on his other side, holding his hand.

  The leafy canopy above reduced the night to velvet blackness. She guided them by instinct. “Watch out,” she murmured as they found and stepped over a huge root.

  His grip was strong and reassuring. He was not the invalid she had discovered many days before. In a way she was disappointed that he was no longer utterly dependent on her, but it also excited her. She squeezed tighter.

  Progress was slow. Though Ethmurl didn't complain, she heard his sucked-in breath whenever he stumbled and periodically she felt twinges of pressure in her hand. She deliberately paced herself as slowly as she dared, and made him stop frequently. He would wait, sip some water, and stoically trudge on. He assured her his discomfort was only the stiffness of his muscles, but she worried nevertheless.

  Hours of this finally brought them to the rear of Garthmorron Hold, well after midnight. They heard an owl chitter as it flew overhead and oeikani shuffle in the stables, but no human noise. All the lights were out in the buildings. They decided to walk openly through the vegetable gardens. Not only could they move more quickly, but if their silhouettes were seen, they would look like they had every reason to be there.