The Shaman's Curse (Dual Magics Book 1)

by Meredith Mansfield

  “The chiefs will overrule him,” Arcas said.

  Vatar shook his head. “Only the shaman has the right to set the test. He. . .” Vatar froze, not finishing the thought. The solution, clear as day, flashed through his mind like a bolt of lightning. Inspiration. He’d seen it on a mural. That picture filled his mind’s eye—a man on horseback with a long metal lance. It had worked then and it would work again now. The tigers were awesome beasts, but surely not worse than a dragon. What he needed was time.

  Vatar stepped forward again. “The test isn’t for more than a month, yet.”

  A surge of agreement rose from all sides. Too many Dardani had sons or nephews ready for the test this year. It was only a delay of a few weeks, but they were willing to seize on it. Even Maktaz didn’t dare try to alter the timetable of the test against that rising tide. They’d tear him apart.

  “What will we do until then?” someone asked.

  “I will pray daily to the Spirits to halt the depredations of the tigers until then,” Maktaz answered weakly.

  “And we’ll keep trying to kill them,” a nearby father said, but not loud enough to carry across the square.

  After several more minutes of protestations, the chiefs, including Maktaz, retired to the tent and let the sides down. The whole tribe stayed in the square, waiting to hear their answer.

  “What good did that do?” Boreala asked.

  “It’ll give the chiefs time to find a way to stop this madness,” Arcas said.

  Vatar started toward the workshop. “More than that, Arcas. It’ll give me time to make weapons. Spears. I have the tools and materials now. I can make spears like the one that Tabeus used to kill the sea dragon. That ought to be enough to kill a tiger, too. And you’re going to help me.”

  Arcas grimaced. “I was never very good at smith craft, Vatar.”

  Vatar shook his head. “I don’t need you to make the spears. I need you to help me set up the forge and tend the fire. Maybe to hammer out the blanks for me.”

  Arcas nodded. “I can do that.”

  Daron and Ariad met them as they crossed the square. “What about us?”

  Vatar blinked as the image of the rider with the spear appeared before his mind’s eye again. “Search the herds. Get your father to help, Daron. Find horses with enough courage to stand before the tigers.”

  “No horse will stand before those beasts,” Ariad said.

  “They will if we believe they will. The brave ones will. The spears will have more force with the weight of horse and rider behind them.”

  Daron nodded. “I know what you want.”

  “What can I do?” Cestus asked.

  Vatar shook his head. “I don’t know. This isn’t your fight.”

  Cestus jerked his chin up and set his feet a little wider apart, as if he was preparing for a fight. “To the deep and the dragons with that! You’re my brother.”

  Boreala grabbed Cestus’s arm. “You’ve had weapons training, haven’t you?”

  Cestus shrugged. “Yes. Years ago, before I joined the Temple. I haven’t kept up with it, though.”

  “Then do what you do best. Teach. Teach those boys how to use the spears to best advantage,” Boreala said.

  Vatar looked around his small circle of friends. “Let’s get started.”

  Chapter 21: Strategy

  Vatar and Arcas continued to set up the forge and prepare for working steel while the five young men discussed strategy and Boreala looked on. They fell silent when Pa appeared at the edge of the workshop.

  Pa’s shoulders sagged. “I’m sorry. The chiefs tried persuasion and threats and everything else we could think of. Maktaz insists the Spirits have decreed this test—and that all the boys of age must stand it.”

  Daron and Ariad swallowed hard.

  Vatar merely nodded. He’d known that nothing would move Maktaz on this.

  Boreala stepped into the center of the group. “There is nothing of ‘Spirits’ in this! That man hates you and Vatar. And these other two boys, too. He’s willing to send I don’t know how many others to their deaths just to get to them. That’s evil.”

  Vatar nodded miserably. “It’s because of what happened to Torkaz. He’s waited a whole year to take his revenge, but he expects to get it now.”

  Danar nodded. “I know. I thought a year would give him time for his grief and anger to cool. I should have known it would only fester. It has unhinged him. Last year we might have been able to hold him short of open murder.”

  Grief and anger. Incredible as it seemed, this was really all about Torkaz’s death. If only he’d been able to save Torkaz, none of this would have happened. He bet he’d be strong enough now after months of working iron and steel. He and Ariad and Daron might have failed to save Torkaz, but they had tried. They certainly hadn’t killed him. But Maktaz was definitely trying to kill them for their failure. And not just them, either. All the other boys would be at just as much risk. Vatar’s nostrils flared and his body tensed with sudden anger of his own. “How many are there?”

  Pa blinked. “What?”

  “How many other boys trapped into this farce of a test?” Vatar asked.

  “Seventeen others,” Danar answered.

  “Twenty.” Vatar spoke through clenched teeth. Twenty boys to die because one was killed in an accident. “I’ll need more steel. There’s not nearly enough here.”

  “I’ve got a few knives I brought to trade with the Modgud.” Arcas shrugged. “We’ve got to go back to Caere anyway. I can replace them. This is more important.”

  “What are you talking about?” Pa asked.

  “Spears. Weapons that can kill the tigers and give us a chance. I have the tools, now. I can forge them.” He gestured around the circle, taking in Arcas, Daron, Ariad, Cestus, and Boreala. “We’ve started to formulate a plan. But I need more steel to make that many spears.”

  Danar handed over his own Caerean steel long knife. “Can you use this?”

  Vatar took it and turned it over. “Yes. But—”

  Pa nodded. “I’ll talk to the other Clan Chiefs. We’ll get you as many knives as you need. The fathers and kin of those twenty boys will be glad to have any hope. We can replace the knives later. We can’t replace the boys.” He took a step nearer and placed his hands on Vatar’s shoulders. “Or you.”

  ~

  Vatar looked up from his work when Cestus appeared at the other side of his anvil. “Shouldn’t you be training the others?” The boys were all familiar with spears, but Cestus had been a big help in drilling them on working together, so that they could protect each other on this hunt.

  Cestus nodded. “They’re drilling right now. I’ll go back in a moment, but I think this is more important.”

  Vatar put down his hammer and gave Cestus his full attention. “What’s that?”

  “I think those boys will have a better chance against the tigers if some of them have javelins instead of spears.”

  Vatar’s brows furrowed. That was a term he’d never heard. “Javelins?”

  “It’s a type of throwing spear.” Cestus knelt and drew a diagram in the sandy floor of the forge. “The point is triangular, like a punch. That’s exactly what it’s supposed to do, punch through shields or armor. Sometimes, a weight is added to give the throw extra force. That can be anything, but usually it’s lead. The boys with javelins would be able to stand off and throw at the tigers from a distance. I think a steel point should be able to penetrate the tigers’ hide. Depending on their aim, a single javelin strike may not kill a tiger, but many strikes will.”

  “How many strikes?” Vatar asked.

  Cestus shook his head. “I don’t know. I have no experience with these tigers. The only things I know about them are what you’ve told me and the wounds I’ve seen.”

  Vatar nodded. “Let me try one and we will see.”

  Cestus nodded. “I’ll cut some shorter poles and see which of the boys have a good throwing arm.”

  ~

 
; In the evenings, Vatar and his friends honed their strategy. Daron had a place in mind where they had a chance to corner the tigers against a high, curving rock outcrop. Eleven of the boys—the best throwers—would be armed with as many javelins as Vatar could provide to drive the tigers into the trap and hold them there. Six would have the shorter thrusting spears common to the Dardani. Their job would be to protect the javelinists. Ariad would be their leader.

  Three riders—the best—would have long, heavy lances. Daron chose himself, Vatar, and another Horse Clan boy, Alion, for the mounted contingent of their hunt. They were the only ones he thought were good enough horsemen to keep their horses from bolting away from the tigers at the first scent of the predators. Their job would be to ride into the teeth of the tigers with long lances and kill them as Tabeus had killed the sea dragon.

  Vatar was forced to split his time between training with the others and working at the forge. Arcas could do the beginning work for him, but forging the actual spear points was something Vatar had to do himself. He spent the most time on the points for the three lances. Everything depended on these blades. They had to be especially strong to penetrate the thick hides of the tigers. The shafts also had to withstand the force of horse and rider. He’d have liked to draw out iron rods, as the legends said Tabeus had done, but he didn’t have enough iron for that.

  He’d have to improvise. In the end, he made the spear points—long and leaf-shaped—from the best steel he had. He forge welded the blades to long iron sockets that would attach the point to the shaft. When the blade and socket were welded into one unbreakable piece, the socket gave greater weight to the point, magnifying the force with which it could strike, as well as providing a longer metal shaft, so that the point could be sunk deeper into the target.

  Vatar sang as he worked, but his song was different than it had been back in Caere. He wasn’t just singing along with the steel. Instead, he sang his anger at Maktaz and his fear for himself and all the other boys and the steel answered.

  Chapter 22: Rare Talent

  Boreala, coming back from one of her tiger-attack patients, stopped as she passed by the forge. Something about the song Vatar sang sent a chill up her spine. It wasn’t at all melodic, but that wasn’t what stopped her. She narrowed her eyes and watched more closely, using all her senses. She gasped and pulled her healer’s bag tight against her chest. Lords of Creation! He was singing power into the red-hot metal. That was a very rare and wild Talent. She’d never seen anything like it before, but the Talent was unmistakable.

  And unexpected. Father had led her to believe that Vatar had no Talent. She needed to talk to Father. Soon.

  Late that night, when the others slept, she composed herself to contact Father. Normally, she would have preferred solitude, but it was too dangerous to leave the hut alone at night. She reached out. This was overdue. She really should have contacted her father earlier, but she’d been afraid of being ordered straight home. “Father?”

  “What’s wrong?” Father’s answer was immediate. He must have been worried about them. “I expected you to be home by now.”

  “I can’t leave yet,” Boreala answered. Briefly, she described the situation.

  Father’s mental voice became even more urgent. “Are you in danger? What about Cestus and Vatar?”

  Boreala forced herself to calm. She’d worried him unnecessarily by not contacting him sooner. Now she’d given him news that worried him even more. The least she could do was to project calm to ease his fears now. Most of them, anyway. “I’m in no more danger than anyone else and far less than most. Cestus is safe, too. Vatar is one of those who will have to face the tigers.

  “I’m too far away to help.” There was frustration in the reply. “Can anything be done?”

  “Vatar has a plan. He and Cestus and Vatar’s friends have refined it.”

  “Will it work?” Father asked.

  Boreala sent a mental smile. “It has once before. Vatar modeled it after Tabeus and the Sea-Dragon.”

  “Interesting choice. Can he pull it off? That requires considerable skill,” Father said.

  “Vatar thinks so. And he won’t be alone, as Tabeus was,” Boreala answered truthfully.

  Father sighed. “I hope he’s right. I appreciate you giving me warning, even if all I can do is worry.”

  “That’s not why I contacted you, Father. As you say, there’s nothing you can do about it from there. I would have waited until we got back.” She tried not to let herself think unless the worst happens. It was too hard to hide thoughts like that through Far Speech.

  “What then?” Father asked.

  “Father, whatever made you believe that Vatar has no Talent?”

  Boreala wasn’t surprised by the puzzlement in Father’s reply. “Cestus thought he’d detected a brief Far Speech conversation during his manhood rites, but Montibeus and I ruled out anyone he could have contacted. Why? What has this got to do with the current problem?”

  Boreala drew a deep breath before she answered. “I watched Vatar at his forge today, as he made the spears for the tiger hunt. He sings as he works. I watched until I was sure. Father, he was singing power into the blade.”

  “What? Are you positive?” Father’s surprise was unmistakable. “Like the spear Tabeus made to kill the sea dragon?”

  “Yes, Father. Although, I don’t think Vatar knows what he’s doing. Once I realized what I was seeing, it was too strong to miss.”

  There was a long moment of silence—so long that Boreala almost thought she’d lost the contact.

  “Say nothing of this to anyone else. Not even Cestus,” Father said, eventually.

  Boreala blinked in surprise. “You don’t mean to keep it a secret, do you?”

  “If I can, yes,” Father answered.

  “But, Father, if the Council, especially Mother, find out that you kept this from them—”

  Father interrupted her. “Boreala, what do you think would happen to Vatar if he were confined to this island?”

  Boreala only had to think for a moment. “It would kill him.”

  “Yes, no matter how they gilded it, he couldn’t live in a cage. So the Council must not learn of this.”

  Boreala sighed. “Yes, Father. What about Vatar? Shouldn’t he know?”

  “No,” Father answered. “Or at least, not yet. Apparently his people have some odd ideas about our Talents.”

  “I know. Vatar warned us on the way out here.”

  “Cestus says the few times he’s brought up anything to do with Talent, Vatar’s reactions were . . . excessive. Almost panicked. Vatar doesn’t need any more stress right now. He especially doesn’t need to doubt himself.” Father paused. “Probably he’s safer not knowing, for now. Later, when his training with the Smiths Guild is complete, there may be a time. Not yet.”

  Boreala sighed. “I suppose you’re right.”

  “Take care of yourself, Little Bird. And let me know what happens.”

  ~

  Veleus paced across his study. That particular kind of Talent hadn’t been seen in generations. Of course, no Fasallon currently living worked metal, so how would such a Talent manifest? With a shake of his head, he turned and headed for the door. This called for a visit to the archives. That was the only place he could think of where he might find information about this particular kind of Talent.

  On his way out the door, he touched the spear that leaned in the corner. Tabeus’s spear, which Veleus customarily carried in the Festival. If Boreala was right, Vatar was doing exactly what Tabeus had done when he had sung his anger and grief into this blade. Tabeus’s spear had shown uncommon strength and purpose during the battle with the sea dragon. More than that, it had held its edge for over six hundred years without needing to be sharpened. It had never shown a single speck of rust.

  Vatar might have a better chance than Veleus originally thought. At least in the tiger hunt. Here in Caere, it would be different. If the High Council ever found out that such a Talen
t had resurfaced, they would never consent to leave Vatar outside the Fasallon. He would certainly be confined to the Palace and its island.

  Yes. The fewer people who knew about that, the better.

  Chapter 23: The Hunt

  At midday on the day of the test, Vatar went for a walk down to the waterhole. He’d done as much as he could and there was nothing to do now but wait until this evening. The boys would set out just before dusk, when the tigers began to hunt.

  Vatar tried not to think about that. A chill of fear went down his spine every time he envisioned himself riding out to look for a pair of forest tigers. He hunkered down and tossed a handful of rocks, one by one, into the water. It had been much easier when the test was still days away and there was so much to do. He’d been able to concentrate on the next task, and the next. Now, the test was only hours away and there was nothing left to do except think about it. He didn’t want to go back to his family’s hut, either. That’d be too much like saying goodbye.

  When the rocks were gone, Vatar stood up and walked a little farther. He crouched down again and gathered another handful of rocks. Since he was trying hard not to think about hunting tigers, he couldn’t get the image of the forest tigers out of his mind. Despite his best efforts, his mind kept reviewing all of the most frightening aspects of the tigers—and there were many.

  The tigers were enormous, about twice the size of the massive plains lions. They could easily pull down the heaviest bull and drag it off. The tigers’ long fangs—as long as a man’s hand—would rip the throat out of a bull or a horse. The heavy folds of skin on their shoulders and backs were as good as a shield. Vatar fervently hoped he was right, that the steel spears would penetrate that thick hide.

  The Dardani had never hunted a tiger, at least, not that Vatar had ever heard of. It was too dangerous. Thinking about the tigers wasn’t helping. Out of the ripples in the water, a face started to form, red hair, green eyes, and a bridge of freckles across her nose—Thekila. She wasn’t even a real girl, but Vatar couldn’t help noticing that she was pretty, in a slightly exotic way. He wished he’d gotten a chance to know someone like her. Or, really, any girl. The masters back in Caere had effectively blocked him from getting close to any of their daughters. He rarely even got to talk to one for long. Though he’d had his torc for months now, he’d never even gotten a chance to kiss a girl. If this plan didn’t work, he likely never would.