by William King
“If you have any better ideas, I’d be happy to hear them.”
“Unfortunately,” Jay said, “I’m fresh out of them.”
“I may be able to do something.”
“Like what, talk Mercius to death?”
I wriggled over to where Ghoran lay, feeling more and more dizzy as I moved. I had to stop for a moment, but I knew I could not afford to wait long. Ghoran’s breathing was shallower. If I was going to do something, I was going to have to do it soon.
I took a deep breath and tried to remember the pattern of the healing glyph. It was there in my mind. I conjured up the image. It was not as bright and clear as I recalled it being but I could certainly visualise it.
I took another deep breath to calm myself and then I sat up.
“What are you doing?” Jay asked.
“I’m trying to get us out,” I said. “Maybe you should do the same.”
“To what purpose? There’s a tavern full of armed men above us who would only be too pleased to stick a knife into us for what we’ve done. They’re probably discussing who gets that pleasure right now.”
“Well,” I said. “Feel free to just lie there and anticipate that coming pleasure. I am going to try and help Ghoran.”
“And how are you going to do that?”
“You’ll soon find out soon enough,” I said. I had to keep pushing myself up.
The dizziness almost forced the chicken Jay’s mother had cooked for us from my stomach. That brought back flashes of sitting in his family’s apartment and talking with his sisters. That seemed unreal now compared to the events of the past few hours.
I focused on the glyph. It was not easy given how sick I felt. I tried and managed to conjure up a few lines. I was reminded of all the times I had sat in Mistress Iliana’s apartment and attempted to summon the light. It was the last thing I needed to think about. I pictured myself endlessly and fruitlessly repeating my efforts to cast the spell. That was even more discouraging.
Ghoran’s breathing reached a crisis It was now or never. I concentrated as hard as I ever had. I let out my breath, visualised the glowing image in my mind. Something answered the call of my power.
Slowly, much more slowly than I would have liked, the lines came into being. Glowing worms of light wriggled across the darkness. I was not sure whether my eyes were open or not, it was so dark. The lines ever so slowly, took the shape of the glyph.
My heart thumped against my ribs like a fist. The lines threatened to deviate from the pattern they should have been following.
I emptied my mind of all extraneous thoughts in order to channel them back into the proper course. Slowly, inch by inch, wriggle by wriggle, the glyph took shape.
Was it correct? Was I about to make some terrible mistake that would harm Ghoran more than it would help him? I pushed those worries aside. Almost immediately the pattern began to unravel. It took every effort I could make to herd the lines back into their correct position.
Why was it so slow to take shape? Why was I having so much difficulty? It had been so much easier earlier. Of course, I had been hit in the head and then left on a cold floor reeling with sickness. That did not help. But I sensed something else. Some resistance within me. Did I not want to help Ghoran? Was it possible I resented his actions upstairs?
I could not afford to worry about such things anymore. I felt as if I was pushing an enormous rock up a huge hill. I was immensely tired. It was as if the sheer effort was pulling the life out of me.
Almost there now. The lines had nearly joined. The pattern was almost complete. I forced it into position. Suddenly everything glowed. Inside my mind there was an illumination. Around my hands appeared the faintest of glows. I saw Ghoran lying in the dark nearby.
“What’s that?” Jay sounded even more frightened than he had just a few moments ago.
I could not let his question distract me. I moved my hands in the general direction of Ghoran’s body, trying to touch where I’d seen the crossbow bolt going in.
Hopefully that was the place where he had taken most damage and where the spell would be the most help. By its light, I could see that Ghoran’s face was pale and calm. I leaned over and vertigo almost overwhelmed me. It was all I could do to maintain the flow of power.
A wave of energy passed from me to him. As it did so, I sensed how feeble the spark of life in him was. The loss of blood and the beating he had taken had almost killed him.
The sensation of contact was the strangest thing. I felt the flow of magic touch the spot where Ghoran was wounded. It was a dark, deep hole that sucked in the power that I had summoned. More and more strength drained from me.
I thought I’d better stop. But if I did not continue Ghoran would die. Tendrils of magic spread from the wound. I sensed them moving through his body, cleaning out the spores of disease, knitting the flesh. I heard the wound suck closed as the flesh fused.
Somehow, I could picture the whole process happening. I did not see muscle and bone and blood in the veins. I saw something else, a pattern of energy, a representation built by the spell. I was not sure how I understood it but I did.
I let the power flow on, doing its work. The process brought a certain calm. I was not sure why or how.
As I grew weaker, my own breathing became shallower and more rhythmic. Eventually, I tried to reverse the spell. It was less of a struggle than I expected. I slowly erased the pattern and the flow of power died away. As it did so, Ghoran’s eyes snapped open and he screamed. His gaze met mine. There was pure panic in it. It was only there for second and he regained control and clenched his teeth tightly together.
I remembered the agony I had felt when Mistress Iliana had healed my nose, as if all of the pain of the surgery and all it took to make me whole again had been concentrated into one terrible spike of a moment. Doubtless Ghoran was going through the same thing.
“Thank you,” he managed to grunt and then his eyes closed again and he fell backwards into a coma. I slumped down, wearier than I had ever been.
I hoped I had not killed him. My use of the magic had been clumsy, unskilled. The spell itself seemed to guide me, as if whatever was in the pattern was responsible for regulating itself. I wondered if that was even possible. As I slumped backwards, I saw that Jay staring at me look somewhere between awe and horror written on his face.
“What have you done? What was that?”
Jay stared at me for the last few moments before the light surrounding my hand died away and we were plunged back into darkness again.
“It was healing magic,” I said.
“So the rumours are true. You are Grinner’s apprentice,” Jay said. I was too tired to argue or explain.
I nodded my head, “something like that.”
“You think it worked? I would not want him to die, troublemaker though he is.”
“We have to wait and see,” I said, feeling enormously tired. “I’m going to take a little rest.”
I closed my eyes and once again darkness flowed over me.
When I opened my eyes, I was somewhere else. I looked up and my neck curled in a way that it should not have been able to do so. I flexed my wings and my tail. Once again, I was looking out through Red’s eyes at my room back in the Palace. Mistress Iliana sat there, asleep in the chair where the servant normally rested. Her eyes were closed and her breathing was regular.
It occurred to me that I should wake her and try and get help. I scampered across the floor and began to tug at her ankle. She flexed her foot. I sprang to one side to avoid being kicked. Then I flapped up onto her lap and began to nip at her wrist. A hand flashed out, quick as a lightning bolt and caught me by the neck.
“What are you up to?” A thunderous voice asked. It did not sound like Mistress Iliana’s. It was too deep and rumbled too much and I realised this is what all humans sounded like to a small dragon. I tried to tell her but of course my forked tongue could not shape the words. Instead I just howled and tugged at her wrist. She held me im
mobile.
“I know,” she said in that voice of thunder. “You miss your master. Don’t worry, when he gets home, I’ll give him a piece of my mind and no mistake.”
I tried to ignore her words. I guess she was worried and thought I was somewhere out in the night having a good time.
She let me go, and I squeaked and screeched and then I heard a voice saying, “rest, little one.”
A spark of power flowed over me and I yawned and dropped into the abyss of sleep.
A boot woke me. I looked up half expecting to see my own room and Mistress Iliana sitting in the chair frowning but what I saw instead was one of the Black Skull bruisers. He was holding a lantern in front of my face.
“Time to get up,” he bellowed.
“Don’t kick him too hard, Rab,” said a familiar voice. I turned my head and saw Mercius looking down at me. “He’s got some value to us now.”
“What do you mean?” Jay asked. He sounded desperate. Several burly men crowded the room. All of them carried clubs. Ghoran lay on the floor deep in a coma. Mercius looked down at him and frowned.
“He’s in better shape than I would have expected,” the gang lord said. “I would have thought he would have been dead by now.”
“Maybe you just winged him, boss,” Rabbie said. “Maybe the wound looked worse than it was.”
Mercius shrugged. “Whatever. I suppose it’s a stroke of luck.”
“What do you mean?” Jay asked. Mercius glared at him and Jay said, “Sir.”
“Do you want the good news or the bad news?” Mercius sounded pleased with himself.
“The good news, sir.” Jay said.
“The good news is that, despite what Buel and Eran want, I’m not going to kill you.”
Relief swept over Jay’s face. At that point in time I was too weary to care. I yawned and Mercius noticed. “Am I boring you, son?”
“No, sir,” I said.
“You’re both very polite,” he said. “Unlike your friend. Of course, you can’t fight like him so perhaps you need to be.”
Both of us had enough sense to keep our mouths shut.
“That’s an idea,” Mercius said. “Maybe we can put him in the Pits. He’d put up a good show for all the rich lords and ladies. I’ll have to give that some thought.”
“Not his sort,” Rab said. “That sort is nothing but trouble. Sell him along with this pair.”
“Rabbie,” Mercius sounded disappointed. “You’ve given away my surprise. And yes, boys, that’s the bad news. In order to recoup my losses for this evening, I’m going to have to sell you to the Black Ship. Chances are, I’ll probably sell your friend as well. The only question left now is whether to keep your together as a set or sell you separately.”
“My mistress might pay for me,” I said. I was surprised to hear my own voice. It came out as a croak. Something it clearly happened to me when I cast that spell. It was a struggle just to force the words out.
“Your mistress, boy?” Mercius said. I froze suddenly. He had mentioned the Black Ship. I remembered what Frater Jonas had said about where they came from and what they traded, and I remembered what Mistress Iliana had told me about those who served the Thrones of Shadow. If Mercius learned I was a sorcerer, he would definitely try and sell me to them. I dithered about what to say.
“I doubt she’s going to ransom a servant,” Rab said. “And even if she would, we won’t get the same sort of money as we would from the Black Ship.”
“You wouldn’t do that,” Jay said.
“I don’t think you are in any position to tell me what I would or wouldn’t do, boy,” Mercius said. “And you’re wrong. The Black Ship pays good money for young lads like yourself. No questions asked and I can’t sell you in Solsburg. People might recognise you.”
“There’s no Black Ship here,” Jay said. “The Duke does not allow them into the harbour. His fleet has orders to sink on sight.”
“There is that,” Mercius said. “Still the smugglers can take you out to Slaver’s Island. The exchange will be done there.”
Jay’s face fell. He seemed at once depressed and terrified.
“Did you come here just to tell us that?” I asked. Mercius planted a boot in my ribs that made me regret asking the question.
“I told you about speaking out of turn, moondog,” he said. “I’m surprised you haven’t learned that lesson yet.”
I flinched in expectation of another kick. Mercius only grinned. He had made his point. “I just wanted to make sure you are alright. And I brought the lads to carry your friend’s corpse out. But since he’s not dead, it looks like we can sell him too. I suppose every cloud has a silver lining.”
I did not say anything.
“Well then, bye bye.” The gang lord turned and went out the door. His henchmen laughed
“Bag them,” said one.
They chuckled. A couple of them were holding jute sacks. Others had strips of cloth. Something like an old sock was thrust into my mouth. It tasted horrible. The sacks were put over our heads and the strings drawn so tight around my neck that I felt as if I was choking.
Panic surged through me. It was hard to breathe and I could not see. Rough hands raised me from the ground and began to push me along. I felt stairs beneath my feet and I stumbled and would have fallen if someone had not caught me. I banged myself against the wall a few times.
I heard people talking and then going quiet as the door opened. There was the neighing of a horse and whispered voices. I was half pushed, half lifted and thrown into the back of a cart.
Something landed on top of me, knocking the wind out of me and it took me a moment to realise that it was Ghoran. I heard a muffled grunting that was probably Jay panicking.
I felt utterly terrified. There did not seem to be anything I could do. My heart pounded against my ribs and I feared that I would be sick. If I was, I would probably choke because of the gag in my mouth.
There was a clopping of hooves and a lurching sensation. The cart wheels bounced and juddered on the cobbles. Ghoran’s weight rolled off me. I could breathe a bit better. I was bruised in a number of places.
Briefly I wondered what my family would think. I would never get the chance to get in touch with them. I would never be able to send a message to them. I might die here. The best outcome was ending up a slave in some far country.
I might end up as a human sacrifice if all I had heard about the Shadow Kingdoms was true. Maybe somebody would realise I was a wizard. If the things I’ve been told were true I might end up as food for some souleater.
I prayed to the Holy Sun for deliverance but it was night and he did not hear me. I hoped Ghoran was okay. I could not hear him breathing. It was easy to imagine him choking on the gag. The horse clop-clopped through the streets. I wondered if the city watch might stop the cart. It seemed unlikely. Why would they bother a lone cart going through the city?
Eventually, a smell of rotting fish and salt water filled the air. We were at the harbour. I tried to think of how we might break free but nothing occurred to me. I couldn’t see anything. I could barely hear anything. There was no way I could focus my powers and even if I could, what could I do? A light spell and a healing spell were not much use against a gang of cutthroats.
“Get up, you lazy moondog bastard,” said a voice. “Get up or I’ll boot you again.”
Panicked, I stirred, and groaned. I felt like I was choking. Someone grabbed me by the throat and squeezed. Something very sharp pricked me in the neck.
“I’ve got a knife here,” said an unfriendly voice. “Don’t try anything or you’ll get it right in the neck.”
I nodded my head, frantically trying to let whoever it was know that I understood. I was half dragged my feet and then pushed in the direction of the back of the cart. I felt something soft under my feet and I realised I had stood on somebody, probably Ghoran or Jay. I heard a tailgate being loosened and then let down.
“Come on then, let’s get you out,” said anot
her voice, surprisingly gentle and almost concerned. I stepped forward at any moment expecting a horrible lurching drop. Instead I felt someone clutch my leg, I fell forward and was caught by several pairs of hands. Then I was pushed upright. The dagger returned, this time at my back. I heard more bouncing noises as Jay and Ghoran were removed from the back of the cart.
“This one’s a heavy bastard,” somebody said. “Plenty of work in him!”
“Maybe he’ll get an oar in the galley,” somebody said.
“They all will,” said another voice. “Least once they get to the Black Ship.”
“Hush, you stupid bastard! Now is not the time to be talking about that.” This voice sounded more authoritative. I was pushed forward, stumbling and feeling dreadful.
The dagger was at my back again and its owner’s voice said, “we’re coming up to the gangplank. Best be careful. We wouldn’t want you to fall in and drown.”
Another image of horror filled my mind, of stumbling and falling between the ship and the pier. With my hands bound and my head in a sack, there was no way I could scramble up. I could not swim anyway. I imagined sinking into the darkened waters, unable to breathe.
Terror filled me. I could think of nothing else. A wooden plank bent and bounced beneath my stride. And then I felt a different texture beneath my feet. I was on the deck of a ship. It flexed slightly as I walked along.
It was the first time I ever boarded a ship. It was not the most pleasant way of doing so.
Chapter Twenty-Six
“Not drowned then,” chortled the dagger’s owner.
I was pushed down a flight of stairs, I could not keep my balance this time and I tumbled forward hitting my head hard.
“Oi,” said a voice. “Don’t damage to merchandise.”
They dragged me along the deck, splinters digging into my skin and then pushed me against a wooden wall. Something cold and metallic encircled my right leg and I heard a click then several more.
All around people groaned. I heard grunts and a club hitting flesh, and a voice said, “keep quiet, you bastards. Otherwise you’ll get another dose of the stick.”
