“There's a bucket for that, wizard.”
He was not listening. He did not feel sick, despite the impressions he gave to those around him. Talin was speaking to him with an admonishing tone. He gripped his bowl tighter.
Maybe I could throw up on him.
The room spun. He did not know if he fell or stayed upright. Was the boat tipping or was he? The roar of waters surged into his hearing. Then he was looking at the sky, at the waters above. There had not always been water in the sky. Sometime in the distant past something devastating had happened to the ocean, throwing water into the sky with the fury of the gods. The ancient text called it a punishment, a curse. The anger of the gods against man. But whatever it had been, it had changed things. Insects grew larger over time – some heretics claiming more air pressure allowed more growth. Other changes had been written he could scarcely believe.
He saw the sky in his vision. An enormous light appeared up in the waters above, wavering, growing brighter. It was almost blinding. Then it split into dozens of smaller lights and the water reflected broad flashes where those smaller lights grew. The lights winked out, then but the waters above churned as if boiling. Several somethings fell from the water. Dark objects trailing smoke.
Water began to fall with them. More water than the usual mist that hung in the air and kept things moist. He felt the water hitting his face in small drops, more and more, and harder.
What manner of thing is this?
He was being lifted.
The vision fled as rapidly as darkness from light. He was being carried. His ears were ringing but returning to normal. Sounds came to him. He was deposited on a bunk. His bunk, he realized. His face was wet, not with water from above, but with tears.
CHAPTER 4
Melaki put his quill down. He blew on the parchment to help the ink dry. They would be docking soon, he had heard the captain above him on the upperdecks say “Northlands.” He had barely heard it.
He began putting away his writing tools. He had been making notes on his ideas about the differences between what he had been taught by the Rukha and their spirit usage and Nihtu with his musings on giant magic. Over the past few days he had come to realize that spirit magic was certainly stronger. Using the spirits used their power rather than one's own. Spirit magic was a caster harnessing the spirit as a farmer would harness a plow to a horse. Using the magic of the giants was like the farmer pulling the plow without a horse.
Spirit magic was not just stronger, but could be maintained longer. Melaki's magic drew heavily on himself, draining and exhausting him. His magic could not last the length of time as a spirit-working. The two magics were similar in the aspect that concentration was required to maintain the magic. In the Rukha's teachings, the caster was required to maintain control over the spirit, constantly holding, binding and manipulating it. In the magic of the giants, the caster was required to maintain visualization of the pattern he formed to call forth the magic from within.
He packed away his thoughts as he packed away his notes. Securing the straps, he hefted all three bags and left the tiny room. Up the stairs and into fresher air, he looked toward land. It sat low and squat and heavily forested. A pall of haze hovered over it unlike smoke and more like the vaporous mists of the graveyard. It wound through the trees laying still and silent.
The captain had called for magic to cease on the approach. He stood gazing intently ahead, wary, watching.
Does he expect a dragon to emerge from the mists?
But this was not the time of dragons. They slumbered still. Another generation or two would pass before they awoke again.
The ship moved smoothly around a promontory of land. Coming into view was the smoke of a settlement. Four ships were harbored and one of them was leaving. They passed it on the way in. The captain raised his hand in greeting and the other ship's captain did likewise.
The settlement was small and consisted of only a few buildings. Many tents were in evidence. A strong wall of wood and rock surrounded the collection.
“One and two down,” said the captain. “Raise three.”
The two larger sails were lowered and the very small third ran up. The ship began to slow, drifting steadily into harbor. A man on the docks was waving and pointing to a slip.
The captain spun the wheel gently and the ship began to veer. The docking procedure was very smooth. Nearing the dock, a few of the crew jumped out. The mooring coils were thrown to them and they secured the ropes to the mooring spools. The ramp was unlatched and set in place.
“Good fortune to you, wizard,” the captain said to him as he passed. He was first off the ship and spoke briefly to the man on the dock.
Melaki followed him off. He moved to the end of the docking area while the captain conferred with the dockmaster. A uniformed imperial officer waited at the end of the dock, hands clasped behind his back, as Melaki approached.
“Wait here, please,” the officer said. “I will need to address all of you.”
Talin was striding off of the ship next, nose in the air, his packs held by spell up and behind him.
Melaki rolled his eyes.
When the entirety of the First Charter had gathered, the officer spoke. “This is the Northlands. The area you see here is Balis Port, or what is left of it until we rebuild. It is surrounded by walls. Do not go outside the walls until you are ready to venture forth. Some dead still walk the land. I do not recommend walks in the night to contemplate your fingernails or whatever it is you do on your strolls.” He pointed. “Over there are the imperial offices. There is our only tavern. There are no rooms. I hope you brought tents. Over there in that ruin is a very large area for merchants. Our companies are still in the process of shifting our storage and separating for your charter and those that follow. Pitch your tents over there. Questions?”
“I will need more room,” Talin said.
“There is no more room. You will have to accommodate yourself within the walls. We have plans to expand that wall out--” He pointed. “But until we do--”
“When will you be doing this?”
“Next month,” the officer said.
“Unacceptable. My assistant here can aid you. He is a wizard of the ninth ward and adept at moving and lifting.”
Shut up and my most heartfelt thanks to you for volunteering me to do what you should be doing if you want more room. Melaki sighed.
The officer's hands went to his hips in fists. His chin jutted forth. “Next month and I do not need to explain--”
“You forget yourself, officer. I am a wizard--”
The officer leaned forward, stabbing his finger towards Talin. “I know your rank and it means nothing here. You are chartered as a guest of Imperial Marshal Stakar. This is a military operation and you will obey our jurisdiction or the marshal will see you back on a ship, your charter revoked. Do I make myself clear.” It was not a question.
Talin sighed in vexation. “Fine, then.” He wiggled his fingers at the officer. “Be off with you so we can be about our business.”
The officer eyed him and frowned, but turned on his heel and left.
Four of the First Charter were merchants and had brought wares. They headed immediately to the large area for merchants to stake out their areas.
Soldiers were on the walls, armed with crossbows. Some moved in the streets, shifting crates towards the imperial offices. It looked like half the town was being cleared for those in the charter.
“Come, Melaki, we will set up our tents over there.”
“Tents?”
Talin looked amused. “You do not have one?”
“I do not.”
The wizard laughed. “Well then I guess you are sleeping in the mist.”
He grunted. “No one told me I was going to need a tent.”
“Look around you. How many cozy taverns do you see with rooms available and waiting?”
Shut up. As if you knew what we would find here. But Talin had brought a tent. “Maybe one of
the merchants will have one.”
Talin waved a hand as if swishing the air clear of a bad odor. “Whatever. We will set up and then go view the maps in the offices.”
Talin selected the most comfortable looking set of ruins and set down his packs. Melaki set his down in the smaller area next to the arrogant wizard.
“In fact, let us go see the maps now and you can pitch my tent later.” Talin strode off without waiting for a reply.
He is treating me like an initiate. Melaki followed behind, glaring at the wizard.
They passed a lone sentry outside the door to the imperial offices who made no move to inquire about them or otherwise stop them. The interior was brightly lit, warm from a large fire roaring in a well-tended and large fireplace and dominated by a large table.
“I am senior officer Mata,” said an imperial officer. He was bearded, and wore his hair in a braid down his back. “I am sure you are here to see the maps and stake your interest.”
“Indeed,” Talin said.
Mata leaned over and plucked a pointer. “Allow me to detail for you. Here is Balis Port. What remains of a road runs northeast here. These areas here are abandoned towns--”
Talin looked at the man sharply. “Are there any real men and women left on the island that are not dead? Or undead?”
“No.”
“So no inhabitants at all.”
The officer tapped his pointer, pursing his lips. “Anything that moves out there is a product of necromancy.”
“I find it hard to believe there had been no surviving humans. Someone had to feed the necromancers.”
“Yes, well. Our orders were to eliminate the island.”
“Oh? Including citizens of the Altan--”
“There were no citizens of the Altanlean Empire here, only those who supported the necromancers. They all have paid the price for their rebellion.”
“I see.”
“Do you, wizard?” The officer's brows drew down. “This was a hard-fought victory. Many good men died to the necromancers.”
Melaki heaved a sigh of relief when, for once, Talin acceded an argument and let the matter rest.
“Go on,” Talin said, indicating the map.
“There to the east is the capital, Dramlos. On the far north shore there is the only other major city.”
“What is the scale of your map--”
“A five-day march from here to the capital. A seventeen day march from here to Kellerran.”
“These points?”
“All that remain of villages. These symbols you see everywhere are graveyards.”
“How much can we stake?”
“We want the area pacified--”
“Yes, I know.” Talin said. His arrogance was back.
“The marshal has declared the First Charter choices no larger than villages. You will need to cooperate or demonstrate pacification to lay claim to a town. The capital and Kellerran are reserved for the empire, though you may venture into them.”
“A village?”
Mata straightened. “Did you think you were going to claim Dramlos and set yourself up as king?”
Talin grimaced.
He had. What conceit.
“Do you wish to take your time thinking about this? I am sure the others need to stake their claims.”
Greed crossed Talin's face in a flash of jealousy. “No, I will select now.” He scanned the map, looking near the capital only briefly. He began eyeing the area around Kellerran on the north shore. “That village, there.”
Mata looked where he pointed and nodded. “You have a good eye for access to the main road, mountains to your back and close to both Kellerran and the town of Grenren.”
“I do not need you to flatter me--”
“I will note your selection. Return if you pacify the area and you can stake more of a claim.”
Talin sniffed at the officer, but turned and left. He leaned towards Melaki as they left the building. “We will leave today. But first I will see if any of the others desire to cooperate with us. I noticed four of the mercenary sort on the ship, though how they got the First Charter eludes me.”
Melaki shrugged.
The wizard walked away with a purpose to find the others in the charter.
With little to do, Melaki walked into the tavern. It was small, cozy, and dim. The fireplace gave the room light. An older, skinny man of military bearing who leaned forward in his posture eyed him from the bar.
“What will you have,” the bartender said. His voice reminded Melaki of grit on cobblestones.
“Mead.”
“One silver imperial.” He was pouring from a cask.
“Is that for two? I only wanted one.” Melaki sat in a chair by the fire.
“It is for one. You asked for one. The price is one silver imperial. We have to ship it all in, you know.”
“Ah.” He raised his eyebrows. “Well, I guess that would be so.”
“Yes it is.” The mead was set down with force, but not anger. “One silver.”
“Yes, yes, yes.” He fingered a silver out of his pouch and placed it in the man's hand. “My thanks to you.”
The bartender grunted.
He leaned back and sipped the mead. It was a very good flavor – one of the best Altanlean brews. He raised his mug and nodded to the man.
The bartender scowled.
Melaki did not think him unfriendly or rude, but suspicious. Perhaps the man was a former imperial soldier and catered to those with whom he was comfortable – other imperial soldiers. Often the soldiers of the imperium had an aversion to the wizards of the imperium. They worked together – when they had to.
Entering the tavern were two others from the First Charter. He had seen them but had been too busy with moving the ship or making notes to mingle. One was an arrogant-looking man, dressed in sturdy leathers, blades at his sides. Trailing behind him was a timid-looking woman also dressed in leathers. She bore a thin sword and had a small buckler on her back.
They sat at the table next to him.
“Can you believe the arrogance of that wizard, demanding that we aid him with his claim?” the man said.
Arrogance meets arrogance. He looked at the woman. She was watching her partner and nodding but looked over at him a few times. She had black, curly hair, pulled back, and flowing down to her shoulders. Her skin was pale and smooth. Her eyes had a look of stress and sadness about them.
“And then the audacity to ask you separately as if we were not married.” The man shook his head.
Oh, they are married. Hmmph. He looked away. He sipped his mead and relaxed. He noticed the woman glance quickly a few more times.
The man chattered on boldly about staking an area and becoming a duke, or even leading a force to claim the capital and be king.
Does everyone want to be king? I do not.
He closed his eyes and allowed his thoughts to drift. The fire warmed him.
The crash of the door startled him and his chair tipped over backwards as he bolted awake.
“Melaki, let us be off.” Talin stood in the doorway.
“Shut the door,” the bartender said.
Talin ignored him. The bartender was beneath him.
Melaki picked himself up and downed the rest of his mead.
“Shut the door.”
Talin's chin was in the air.
He carried the empty mug to the bartender. “My thanks to you, again. I will shut your door for you.”
“Quickly.” Talin snapped his fingers.
The bartender grunted.
Rolling his eyes, he turned and took his time straightening his robes, dusting imaginary particles from it.
The other wizard sighed with exasperation. “Perhaps I made a mistake in selecting you.”
Perhaps I made a mistake in accepting. He walked to the door. “Are we leaving?”
The two mercenaries watched from their table, a look of indignation on the man's face. That anyone should leave before him was unthink
able.
Maybe he should go with Talin.
“Come, I have created a summoning.”
Melaki reached and felt the oily evil of the spiritwork. Talin had summoned horses. If any were alive in the surrounding lands, they would come. He could feel three responses through the connection. He followed the wizard back to their packs and gathered them up.
The guards at the gate said nothing. One shrugged and motioned to two others who lifted the bar and opened the heavy wooden doors.
Talin stood, chin thrust forward, eyes lidded. His packs floated behind him.
Melaki followed him out the gate and gazed at the dark of the forest outside the port. He saw birds, but little else. Even the birds were quiet. He carried his packs, conserving his personal energy. The senior imperial officer had been right; the road was just a remnant. Ferns were already growing close in on the edges and a few trodden in the road itself spoke of the imperial soldiers marching them down on their conquest earlier in the year. The trees stretched overhead and in places blocked any light from the sky above them.
“Make a light and float it ahead,” Talin said.
He formed the two patterns in his mind – the oily one and one for a bright blue light. He could maintain those without much of a drain. Light was easy and the oily pattern was almost an afterthought. He scanned the trees around him and then tried something risky. Forming a simple third pattern, he sent his awareness out a ways, searching for necromantic vibrations.
“What are you doing?”
He let the third one collapse. “Probing for undead.”
Talin grunted. “It was rather weak.”
He sighed but said nothing. Most likely, the soldiers had scoured the immediate surrounding areas for pockets of anything that might threaten the port.
Talin's head wagged. “The soldiers have killed everything nearby, assuredly.”
“I was just thinking that.”
“Of course you were.” Sarcasm dripped from his tongue. “That's why you cast your magic, to look.”
Idiot. I did both. Melaki realized talking only gave Talin something with which to demonstrate his self-ascribed massive intellect and ability. The other wizard was practiced at it, honed and polished, firing smooth darts of sarcasm and scorn at anything for any reason – all to make himself look better.
The Melaki Chronicle Page 6
