by B. T. Narro
Please don’t let it be broken. I knelt to help her up, my knee throbbing. Before I could even get my hands on her, someone slammed into me. My shoulder and head hit the ground as whoever it was tripped over me. Somewhat dazed, I couldn’t get to my feet before Shara. She helped me up as she winced, her arm bloody.
“You all right?” I asked.
“Yes.”
We made it out of the square without another incident. The only thing we saw when we risked a look back was the city burning behind us.
With the streets coming out of the square like fingers from a hand, they were far less crowded. People still ran, but closer to the speed of a jog. Winded, Shara and I slowed as well. It gave me time to worry about Aunt Nann. She’d been right. The poor woman wouldn’t have made it out of the city, and I’m not sure how much I could’ve helped. Unlike Shara, she was too heavy to carry for even a short distance. I just hoped her house was spared. The thought made me want to scream.
There was a commotion of some kind ahead. A man and woman in their twenties had daggers out as they yelled at a bald and sweaty older gentleman standing in front of a barn. Positioned in the doorway, he seemed to be defending it, using a sword to jab at them.
“Just give us a horse.” The younger man feigned an attack with his dagger.
“Thieves! Someone help.”
Panicked by his shouting, the woman rushed at him with her dagger. The bald man sloppily swung his sword in defense, nicking her arm and causing her to fall and lose her weapon. The other attacker leapt forward, barely ducking the older man’s next wild swing. The woman reclaimed her dagger, and soon they were both closing in on the bald man as he staggered backward into the barn and yelled once again for help.
Shara and I were there by then. I had no weapon but my pyforial energy and my dagger, and I would’ve used either if it weren’t for Shara already sending a fireball between the attacking couple and scaring them into stopping.
“You will leave this barn right now,” Shara demanded.
They hesitated, clearly weighing their chances of winning this fight against the three of us.
Aiming her wand at the woman’s face, Shara shrieked, “Get out now!”
The woman darted past us, her companion following close behind.
“Thank you,” the bald man said.
“Can we buy two horses?” I asked in haste, noticing four in separate stables behind him.
“Help me get them out of here safely and you can have one for free. I’ve already lost two to thieves. I haven’t figured out how to get the rest out. I can handle two if you each take one.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
There’s a look people get when they’re considering doing something wrong…most people at least. True degenerates no longer have it. Smiling, they can take a man’s only belt and sell it for two pits. But I wasn’t looking out for degenerates. There was no way I could, for a skilled thief is only recognized once it’s too late. It was the unskilled thief who I watched out for—those who looked at three people and four horses with a lingering glance and a twinkle in their eye. It was even worse that I was limping and Shara’s arm was bloody. Sometimes they murmured something to the person beside them. Others were obvious enough to point.
I called them out before the thought became a decision, hollering at them to leave us alone. Shara aimed her wand and the bald man showed his sword. Most of them were good people just caught in a moment of selfish consideration. We were fortunate enough not to run into someone too brave for his own good, and soon we were out of the city.
Many of those fleeing continued straight north. I asked Shara if the nearest town was in that direction.
“No. I figure they’re going to turn northeast and take the path to Aylinhall,” she said.
“What’s straight north then?”
“Talmor Desert. Did you happen to notice the skull on the map I showed you back in Lanhine?”
“I did.”
“That marked Talmor Desert. It stretches seventy-five miles from west to east. Aylinhall lies east of it with a few miles of hills between them.”
The bald man whose name I’d never asked stopped and turned to us. “Here should be far enough.”
“How much for one of these horses?” They all looked the same to me, so I didn’t mind which one he sold us.
But Shara jumped in front of me and pointed at one of the two horses whose reins the bald man held. “How much for that one?”
He looked at Shara with a smile that seemed sneaky to me. “You have a good eye. Twenty ruffs for him.”
“Twenty?” I exclaimed. “How much are you selling the others for?”
“Twenty’s a good price, Neeko,” Shara said. “Your money would be better spent on that horse than on tipping pretty waitresses.”
I paid her quip no mind, waiting instead for the bald man to reply.
“The other horses are a few ruffs cheaper,” he said, “but I’m giving you the best deal for Vkar here.”
“Take it, Neeko.”
“Fine.”
As I retrieved the coins, Shara asked, “Can we choose which one to take for free?”
“I’m choosing that one.”
Her shoulders slumped a bit. “I understand.”
“You will take good care of them, won’t you?”
“We’ll treat them better than we treat ourselves,” Shara promised.
I figured she was exaggerating even though she sounded serious. The man seemed pleased, though, introducing Shara to her horse.
“Her name is Whitspur. She’s a fine animal, refined like yourself.”
I didn’t know a horse could be refined, nor what made this man think Shara was, but she seemed taken by the compliment, offering her hand and thanking the man twice before letting go.
Soon after he left, Shara admitted, “I’ve always wanted my own horse.”
“I had one a few years ago. Jon came home with the horse one evening. He said he won it playing cards, though I always thought he’d stolen it.”
“What happened?”
“I assumed someone would come by to claim the animal, but no one did. I got to know him after a few months, cared for him. Then one day I woke up and he was gone. Jon sold him because he said we were spending too much on him without getting anything in return. I suppose it was true. I’d ride him every so often, but he never made us money, and neither my father nor I ever traveled out of town.”
“So at least you know how to ride.”
“It’s been awhile.” I was done discussing the past. There was something else of far more concern. “The people I was talking to at your inn are going back north, even past Glaine. I think I could convince them to take us if they’re still going. Let’s look for them over there.”
Cessri had a succession of hills along its northeastern edge. People had taken to sitting halfway up the first and smallest of them, watching in dismay as their city burned.
“Why would they take us?”
“Because they’re going that way.”
She put her hands on her hips. “That’s not enough reason on its own. What did you offer them?” A thought struck her. “Or did you lie and claim you were a skilled warrior?”
This just reinforced how little I knew about traveling. Effie had seen me as a burden, and Shara knew this would be the case. “Well, they haven’t exactly agreed to take us yet, but I’m confident they will.” I didn’t see the harm if we were all going in the same direction. It’s not like either of us were Tyree, a useless thief.
“I suppose we can look for them if you want.” She was clearly pessimistic about joining with them. “There’s little past Glaine, though, so where are they going?”
“Back to Ovira, from where they came.”
Shara became excited. “They’re from Ovira?”
I recited what I could remember as we walked our horses through the groups of people along the hills, looking for Effie and Steffen. When I came to the part about them needing Eizle, I
realized the red priest’s army had just made everything far more complicated. Now I didn’t know if they still would try to get Eizle or if they would give up and return without him.
Shara cared little for any of this. When she found out Eizle was a pyforial mage, she became indignant. “I will not travel with one of them! Don’t you know how dangerous they are?”
I stopped as too many thoughts crossed my mind at once. She must not have seen me use py to stop the men chasing us. I’d been slightly worried she had, but I also trusted her to keep the information to herself. At least I had earlier. Now looking at her frightened face, I wasn’t sure what she would do with the secret.
“Eizle wouldn’t hurt you or anyone else. There’s no reason to be scared of someone just because he can manipulate pyforial energy.”
“He’s in prison isn’t he?” she asked rhetorically. “He wouldn’t be there unless he used the energy to hurt someone.”
“They’ll throw anyone in prison who uses it or even teaches it. Maybe he was doing something good.”
“What good can someone do with py energy?”
I grumbled. “What good can you do with fireballs?”
“Fire,” she began, “although dangerous, is very useful. Especially for travelers.”
I wanted to argue that py energy was just as useful, but perhaps it wasn’t, at least not for traveling. For carpentry it was great. But I didn’t imagine needing to lift planks of wood heavier than myself on my way to Glaine.
I felt my anger dissipate as I thought of something. “So this means you’re coming with me?”
“Compared to going back there?” Shara pointed at the burning city. Night was quickly approaching, causing light from the flames to flicker across the land. “Where my only source of coin comes from a building that’s likely to be rubble? Where an enemy army might be awaiting and their commander wants me dead? No thank you. I’ll take my chances going to Glaine.” She coughed. “I can’t believe I made it out with my lungs as bad as they are.”
“Were you wheezing?” I hadn’t heard it, but I wasn’t listening for it, either.
“At times, yes. It wasn’t as bad as in Lanhine.” She coughed again, then took a deep breath. I heard the same constriction as before, air catching. “Two hells,” she uttered.
“Is it the smoke?” It didn’t seem likely, as I couldn’t feel any difference in the air where we were.
“Think it’s just”—she coughed—“part smoke, part worry. Thanks to Tyree, I have nothing for the trip.”
We’d gone past most of the people along the hill without finding Effie or Steffen. I stopped and gave her my water skin from my bag. “I’ll take care of anything we need.”
She wouldn’t accept it. “We have to figure out some way I can pay you back. Oh, I know! After I get the money for my redemption scroll. We’ll keep track of everything you spend on me, and I’ll pay all of it back.” Then she took two gulps of water before handing the skin back.
“Agreed.”
“Does this mean you’ve given up looking for that short mage?”
“How did you know she was a mage?”
She held up a finger as she coughed. “We female mages have a sense men wouldn’t understand. We can identify each other in ways that are lost to the lesser-minded gender.”
“Horse piss. You saw her wand.”
Shara giggled. She took a deep, clear breath and smiled. “We should be able to make it without them anyway now that we’ve got horses. Are you ready to leave?”
“Let me look around a little more for them. Even if Effie and Steffen don’t take us, I’d still like to see what they’re going to do about Eizle.”
“Maybe it’s better if you don’t.”
“What do you mean?”
She showed me a pained look, as if she had great difficulty saying whatever was on her mind.
“What is it?” I asked.
“As you know, I heard you speaking about Eizle to your aunt when I was eavesdropping. I could tell how close you were. But it’s been eight years, and now he’s a pyforial mage who’s been put in prison. He’s not the same boy from your childhood.”
I desperately wanted to tell her how little she really knew about Eizle. I’d left everything regarding pyforial energy out of the story. He was the same person.
“Just give me another hour.”
Her blank expression was inscrutable for possibly the first time since I’d met her.
“And soon I’m going to need light from your wand,” I added.
“All right. But I want you to know I’m not agreeing but acquiescing.”
“What’s the difference?”
“I want to protest, but I’m choosing to help instead.”
“Noted and appreciated.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
I didn’t find Effie and Steffen. I did, however, see someone I thought to be Eizle riding north. But as I started my horse toward him, he looked right at me with a fierce glare. I stopped as if I’d noticed spikes on a door handle I was just about to grab. It couldn’t have been Eizle. He didn’t have malice in him like this teenager did. Even Shara shuddered.
“What were you doing riding over to him?”
“I thought I knew him, but I don’t.”
“Does this mean you’re ready to start north?”
“I suppose I am.” I also supposed I’d never see Effie, Steffen, or Eizle again. The thought made me angry at the red priest, reminding me that I needed to ask Shara what she knew of this war.
“It’s important to know why we’re at war,” she answered as we rode. “I’m surprised you don’t.”
Too frustrated to do anything but lash back, I said nothing.
“Sorry. I am surprised, but there’s no reason for me to say it.”
“Just tell me everything you know.”
“That would take days and nights.”
I grumbled. “You know I’m not asking to hear everything you know. I mean everything about the war.”
“Yes, that’s what I was referring to. A war doesn’t begin because of two men. There are years of history, dozens of people directly involved. Then there are the gods and their history in relation to our kings.”
“Fine, then the short version. I just want to know how the war’s likely to affect our travel.”
“I suppose I’m just stalling because I don’t know where to begin.” Shara leaned forward to stroke her horse’s mane. “A volatile volcano resides in the southwestern edge of Sumar, spewing lava into the air as often as it rains here. On the opposite corner of the continent, to the northeast, is a great waterfall that has never run dry. Many believe the volcano is the god of fire—the god of death—and the waterfall is the god of water—the god of life.”
“How can part of the land be a god?”
“No.”
“No?”
“No, you can’t request the short version then start asking questions.”
“Why not?”
“Why not!” She was incredulous. “Isn’t it obvious?” She shook her palm so vigorously, I worried she might fall off her horse. “Don’t answer that. The important thing here is that I’m telling the story, so I get to make the rules.”
“I won’t ask a lot of questions. Just tell me how the land can be a god. Is the volcano the god of fire’s physical form? Does the god of fire exist in some other form besides the physical, and the volcano is just an entrance to this being? Or is the volcano only representing the god?”
“Are you asking me what I believe or what others believe? Because if you’re asking what I believe, the answer’s simple. I—like our king—do not believe the volcano or the waterfall has any relation to the gods.”
“I’m asking what others believe.”
She scoffed. “Most people in the south believe the same thing their king does, that the volcano is the god.” She pushed out her hand before I could say anything. “Don’t ask me what that means because I don’t know. I could spend hours reciting differen
t philosophies about just the volcano. If I went deeper into the faith, I could be talking about nothing but the gods all the way to Antilith!”
I was silent. After a long while of us riding abreast, Shara turned back toward me. “Really? No more questions?”
“No. Go on.”
After a nod, Shara explained that in the year 1425, there was a drought for one hundred days. I didn’t see what this had to do with the war, but I dared not interrupt to ask. By then there were fire priests and water priests, supposed disciples of the two gods. It was decided that the water god required a sacrifice to end the drought. So a water priest escorted a woman through the sacred land of Quosae to the white waterfall, where she climbed to the precipice and jumped.
“How high is the waterfall?”
“One thousand yards. She died, if that’s what you’re wondering. Everyone who jumps off dies.”
“There were more?”
“Many—one for each year that followed. The day after the first woman gave her life in sacrifice, it rained.”
“Why did she do it?”
“Again with the questions.” Shara huffed out an annoyed breath. “She wasn’t just any woman. She’d dedicated her life to faith like a priest, only there were no female priests back then. They called women like her faith-bound.”
“Why didn’t you mention that earlier?”
“Because you wanted the short version, and who this woman was has little to do with the war! I told you if I explained everything I knew that led up to this, it would take days and nights, but you—”
“All right,” I interrupted. “I’m sorry.”
Shara went on to tell me that nearing the end of that year, unrelenting rain fell over all of Sumar for twenty days. A few red priests had claimed this would happen—that the god of death would become vengeful after not receiving a sacrifice like the god of life. Crops began to die in the resulting floods, and eventually everything would be dead.
There were two kings as there were now, one in the south and one in the north. Both kingdoms suffered from the drought and the rain, and the rulers agreed another sacrifice was necessary. The day after a red priest brought a faith-bound woman through the sacred land of Eppon and she jumped into the volcano, the rain stopped. At the beginning of every year after that, one sacrifice would be given to each god—always an adult who’d dedicated his or her life to faith.
