The Way of the Black Beast

by Stuart Jaffe

  Tommy. Always Tommy.

  She wanted to wrap her arms around that boy, hug him tight, and kiss his forehead. She wanted to promise him that once Jarik and Callib were dealt with, she would build a home for them. It would be a small place in the woods, far from the chaos — a small place with a garden filled with fresh vegetables and an apple tree loaded with perfect, red apples.

  Night descended as they staggered upon the way station. Malja found no sign of Tumus or Fawbry or Tommy. The fire ashes were cold. Some nuts and a bit of chewed meat littered the floor. On one wall, Malja noticed charcoal doodling — a big circle, some dots, an arrow pointing to some little circles, wavy lines. She touched the drawing and pictured Tommy standing in the same spot.

  But they had gone now. They must have left before Fawbry had returned. They could have left days ago — and perhaps he followed.

  Cole stretched out on the floor. "This place reeks."

  "Smoke-cutter died in here."

  "Good. I hate those bastards."

  "Go to sleep. We'll move out soon."

  Cole rose on her elbow. "You need to sleep, too."

  "Don't worry about me."

  "Are you guarding me? You scared I'm going to try to run away? You shouldn't be. Everything's different now. Your fathers — they're not right in the head. They're going to do far worse to this world than the Devastation. So I'm sticking with you. I think I'd like to have you there when things turn ugly. So get some sleep. I need you alert and ready."

  Malja weighed the points and lay down on the counter. "If all you just said is true, then you can tell me where Jarik and Callib are going. Where in the City of Ashes? If I'm going to protect you, I need to know so I can plan the safest route."

  Cole chuckled. "Rest well. I promise I'll take you there. You have my word. Tomorrow, I'll lead the way."

  "Not tomorrow. We have to go find my friends first."

  "We don't have time for that. We've got to stay after your fathers."

  "You don't get a vote in the matter."

  Cole rubbed her face, and with a frustrated exhale said, "And where are they?"

  "I don't know for certain, but I have a strong suspicion. And the more I think about it, I'm as close to positive as I could ever be. It's the only place that makes sense."

  "So where would that be?"

  "Dead Lake."

  Cole said nothing for a moment. She shook her head and turned over to sleep. "You've got strange friends."

  Chapter 18

  Malja awoke a few hours later, yawned, and put her head back down. Her body craved another hour or two, but her brain urged her to prep the horse. The poor beast might not survive if they maintained such a grueling pace, but Malja saw little choice. She hoped some extra care now would be enough.

  Stretching her limbs, but not getting up, Malja inhaled, held her breath, and exhaled slowly. The fighter in her chastised such a lazy awakening. She should spring to alertness. But her body needed to recoup, and this was the best she could manage. Peeking at Cole to make sure she still slept, Malja scrunched her face tight, held it, and let all her muscles ease back. It was a little relaxation ritual Gregor had taught her.

  I'm close, Uncle Gregor.

  Knowing Old McKinley died did nothing to quiet her Beast, but it did fill a small darkness in her memories — like recalling a name after struggling for it. She hoped Gregor was pleased, but tried not to think about it. And before her mental image of Gregor could frown at her and point out how too often she tries not to think about things, she rose and headed outside to the horse.

  The morning work helped busy her mind, but in case it wasn't enough, she thought about the hole into another world and the fact that she fell through it without dying. She should have been burned to dust but here she stood rubbing a horse. Perhaps Jarik and Callib had put some strange spell upon her. Perhaps Cole had done it with her machines. It was even possible that they all had conspired together when she was little.

  And there was the other world itself — a world far more civilized, probably more powerful, and possibly more dangerous. Contact with this world had had enough influence to birth the Bluesmen. Malja's fist tightened at the thought of what such contact would do to her fathers.

  As Malja finished with the horse, Cole awoke and readied to go. They headed out without a word.

  Malja stayed alert. She listened for snapped twigs or a sudden break in the birds' melodious morning chatter. She searched the trees and rocks for a shadow or a glimmer or anything unusual. She sniffed the wind for signs of a camp or an ill-washed enemy.

  "I wasn't trying to hurt you," Cole said after several hours. "I know how it looked, but you were never in danger."

  "You burned off Fawbry's hand."

  "That was a little personal. Besides, I had to act harsh for the Bluesmen. My place with them was tenuous. They needed to see that I had the strength and the will to follow through on my promises. Otherwise, they would never listen to me."

  "I don't care about anything you want to say except for where I'll find Jarik and Callib. So let's just go to Dead Lake, make sure my friends are okay, and then head for the City of Ashes."

  "You're in charge. Even if it means we'll lose your fathers. I just hope we're not going to see Barris Mont. You can't trust anything that bloated monster says."

  A flock of gray and white minrits took to the sky leaving behind the skeleton of a dead birch. "What do you know about Barris Mont?"

  Cole scoffed. "More than you, apparently."

  Malja refused to be baited, so she let silence lap over them. That didn't stop her brain, however. Over the next hour, she reviewed her limited experience with Barris Mont, searching for any hint of his ulterior motives. Unfortunately, there were many — well, not hints, exactly, but plenty of signs to suggest he had lied or at least obscured the truth.

  They camped early that night to insure the horse's survival. The following midday, they came upon the Muyaza village. Something bad had happened.

  Nobody traveled across the river. No line of waiting passengers had formed. Two buildings had been squashed into rubble. Dark, soupy smoke billowed toward the clouds. Worse — a row of bodies rested at the shore and a few weeping families sat nearby. Others carried more bodies over using the river litters. Blood stained the food table.

  As the two women neared the village, a Muyaza man noticed them and thrust a finger towards the hills. "Go," he said. "No cross."

  "What happened here? Who did this?"

  "No cross. Go."

  Malja looked to Cole. "Jarik and Callib?"

  Cole raised an eyebrow. "Possibly. But this world is full of violent people."

  The Muyaza man continued to point, but said no more. To Malja, he looked like a sad Chi-Chun — so distraught he could raise only one arm. She surveyed the area.

  "You," she said. "Magic do this?"

  The man's face tightened. "You bad. Go. No come back. Ever." Wiping his hands in an exaggerated manner, the Muyaza turned his back on them and left.

  Cole said, "They really love you here."

  "Doesn't matter. We still have to cross the river."

  "Considering what's just happened, I doubt they're doing their usual patrols against bridge-builders and such. We could easily build a boat. They won't bother us."

  Malja's stomach rolled at the mere thought of water travel. "A boat will take too long."

  "Nonsense. We'll go back to my cabin. I have tools and machines that can help."

  "Your cabin is days away. Besides, there's nothing there anymore. Fawbry burnt it to the ground."

  "He what?"

  "It was an accident."

  "That Kryssta-loving fool. He did it on purpose. I know he did."

  "I don't care. Get that into your head. I don't care. All I want right now is to get across that river, and it won't be done on any boat."

  Malja set the horse moving toward the river's edge and then headed upriver. She hoped to find a shallow or narrow area to attempt the
crossing. After only a few minutes, however, she heard the clumsy steps of someone following them without knowing how to do so properly. Wrenching the horse around, she saw a Muyaza man trip in shock. Not just any Muyaza. This one bore a white scar across his chest and had almost died under Viper's sharp curves. Tommy had stopped that from happening, and now she would see how Tommy's kindness was repaid.

  Malja slid off the horse and pulled out Viper. The man scrambled to his feet. "No. Please. I help."

  "Help how?"

  "I take cross Yad."

  "You want to help us cross the river?"

  With an enthusiastic nod, the man smiled. "I called Skvalan. I take cross Yad."

  "Why?"

  Skvalan turned cold, his brutish muscles and stern brow finally matching the bruiser she had dealt with before. He gestured back at the village. "I listen. You hate magic. I hate magic."

  He choked up and Malja recalled the woman who had tried to stop him from confronting her. "Did they kill your wife?"

  "Wife?"

  "Your woman."

  His eyes darkened as he nodded.

  "How do we get across?"

  Skvalan stepped close. "Wait for night. No Muyaza see. I open water."

  "I thought only the old ones did that."

  "I no good but I do."

  Cole said, "That sounds so encouraging."

  * * * *

  Night took its sweet time coming. As the hours passed, Cole noted several times how far they would have been in making a boat. Each mention caused Malja a second of bitter reflux in her throat. If Skvalan backed out, they would have to use a boat. The seasickness alone bothered Malja, but listening to Cole gloat would near kill her.

  Skvalan arrived an hour after the moon showed its face. He wore a heavy cloak, a satchel overflowing with fruit, and he carried a litter. He looked at the two women without visible emotion. "We go," he said and dropped the litter at their feet.

  Malja wanted to yell at the man, but it would do no good and she needed him. With Cole on the front and Malja in the rear, they lifted the Muyaza on the litter. Skvalan took a cleansing breath and concentrated on his leg tattoo. Five minutes passed before the protective bubble formed, and it barely covered the three of them.

  "Leave the horse behind," Malja said.

  As they entered the river, walls of water pressed in. Skvalan grunted as if struck by invisible foes. He strained to maintain the bubble and their safety. Malja urged Cole to walk faster, but Cole had never labored under a litter before — she grunted and strained, too. For Malja, the litter was easy. She had carried many bodies off many battlefields. The water, however, worried her. It pushed against the bubble with steady force that they had to compensate against or be swept away. Fighting the Yad, swimming to shore — it had been hard enough the first time. She had no wish to repeat the event, particularly at night.

  Though the moon provided some light, the darkness beneath the water blotted out most light. The river flowed around them in muted tones. Even the river's odors seemed less pungent in the night.

  Halfway across, Malja asked if anybody needed to rest. "Just keep going," Cole said and Skvalan grunted. Though Malja approved of them both for toughing it out, she suspected Cole didn't want to stop for fear of not being able to start again.

  They pushed on. Slick stones and uneven surfaces threatened to topple them at every step. Malja risked a peek at Skvalan. His body shook with his effort.

  As if leaving a long, dark tunnel, they emerged from the Yad and reached the shore. Skvalan and Cole dropped to the ground, sweating hard and breathing heavy. Blood dribbled from Skvalan's nose. Malja handed them fruit and treated herself to a ripe apple. She gave them a short while to recoup.

  "Thank you," she told Skvalan. "I owe you for this. Cole, let's go."

  As they headed out, Skvalan followed. Malja now saw the cloak and satchel for what they were — all his possessions. Skvalan must have seen her intention to turn him back for he reached into the satchel's side pocket and pulled out a long braid of dark hair. "Wife," he said. His fingers tightened around the braid as if choking the life from the bastard magicians responsible.

  The Beast is in us all, she thought. She suspected he would follow them regardless of what she said. She might as well have him on her side. "Okay," she said.

  Walking to Dead Lake sapped what little stamina they had left. Malja wanted to sleep. She had grown tired of being tired, but knew the luxuries of a soft, safe bed were long away. One look at Dead Lake told her that bed had moved even farther into the distance.

  Trees had been toppled. Dying fires charred the ground, mixing their smoke with the growing fog coming off the lake. A Chi-Chun man hung from a tree limb, blood dripping into its own crimson puddle below. Further along the shore, they found more evidence of battle.

  Skvalan tensed, and his head darted from side to side. Malja wondered if she had more of a warrior on her hands than she had given credit. Cole, on the other hand, held her nose against the harsh stink of the dead drifting like the fog.

  "Stay close," Malja said. Clouds kept blocking the moon — she didn't want anybody getting lost.

  She heard the mournful praying long before she saw the dark figure emerge. As they closed in, she spied a Chi-Chun woman bent over two bodies. The woman raised her arms upward and said, "Korstra, most powerful brother god, to serve you, we live and in serving, we are fulfilled. I offer you the souls of two cherished servants." She lowered her hands, touched the corpses, and began the whole thing over.

  Only when they were close enough to trip over the dead did Malja recognize the woman. "Tumus?"

  Tears streamed down her dark skin as she faced Malja. "There was no warning," she said. "They just came in and started killing."

  "Who? Tumus, who did this?"

  "They never stopped. They kept moving forward like we were in the way." Tumus got to her feet and opened a secretive smile. "Don't fear. I left Tommy with Barris. They linked so Tommy could finish his new magic easier and in good health."

  Malja didn't wait for Tumus. She might have strangled the Chi-Chun if given the chance. She stormed across the stony shore, each step making her angrier. Her actions, her choices, her orders — all of it should have made her wishes clear. She did not want Barris Mont playing with Tommy's mind. Her anger at the stupidity around her only fueled her anger at her own gullibility. She should have expected this the moment she decided to leave Tumus and Tommy behind.

  Of all the carnage she had witnessed in the past, nothing compared to the bizarre setting she found at the dock. Numerous Chi-Chun corpses littered the ground like smashed scarecrows. Several horses lay dead amongst them. The corpse of Barris Mont rotted in the lake. Only a small portion of his bulbous form broke the surface like an island made for vultures and minrits. One damaged tentacle stretched from the water, across the dock, to the strangest part of all — a burnt hole in the ground surrounded by fallen trees, debris, and people, and all knocked away from the hole.

  Cole said, "Something exploded here."

  "No," Tumus said, but she wasn't correcting Cole. She was speaking to herself, denying what her eyes told her. Throwing her body onto the hole, her words grew louder and more painful. "No, no. Please, no. I'm sorry."

  Malja chilled. "Tumus? Where's Tommy?"

  "I-I'm so sorry."

  "Tumus," Malja said, her voice snapping the Chi-Chun name but getting little reaction. She stood tall over Tumus, as if she could will the woman to speak. "Where's Tommy?"

  "He ... he ..."

  "Damn Korstra, where's Tommy?"

  Screaming the words out, Tumus said, "I left him here with Barris! I left him here! I-I left him."

  Chapter 19

  Malja couldn't feel her hands. She slumped on the dock facing the charred darkness in the ground, and her hands just went away. Her face, too. Only the icy-hot spike of loss impaling her chest convinced her that the numbing was not a return of the magic she had drunk.

  She tried to cry ou
t, scream, make some sound — but she couldn't move. Her lungs could barely pull in enough air to keep her alive. Her eyes stung from not blinking. She stared at the black dust, the blasted dirt, unwilling to look away. When she exhaled, her breathing shook from her body like a broken machine.

  She had promised him. She had held that little boy's hand as Wuchev's splashes blended with his terrified tears, and she had promised him. Yet the first moment he needed someone else, she broke that promise.

  She could feel the excuses mounting and shut them down. "My fault," she whispered. She had left him with Tumus. Nothing would change that. No excuse could fix that. She had failed.

  Callib's right. She remained there, staring, petrified in pain as her thoughts trundled over each other, spiraling her deeper into doubt. She had slipped off that morning, so Tommy couldn't cause her discomfort about leaving him behind — and in the Freelands, no less. Perhaps Jarik and Callib had been right to try to kill her. She left Tommy unprotected. I'm a monster.

  She had held his hand. She had made her promise. And now, she could only wet the ground with her tears.

  "Who's Tommy?" Skvalan asked Cole. "Why she cry?"

  Hearing Skvalan, Malja realized she was crying, and that blew her open. Every ounce of pain released like a blast of magic scorching the charred ground. She wailed and clutched at her heart. She kept waiting for everything to stop, to end, because the idea that life would continue made no sense.

  But at length, her tears did stop. Her breathing eased. And a low, growling rumbled within her. Callib's not right, it told her. Jarik's not right. They're the monsters that murdered the only right one she ever knew.

  Gregor.

  She lifted her head and looked around. Cole and Skvalan meandered around, waiting for her to snap back, while Tumus cried on her own.

  Sure. Wait for me. They're all helpless without me. The dead pain in her heart started to beat. But if I say Left they all want Right.

  She had tried it their way. She had tried to be peaceful. She didn't slaughter the Bluesmen, she didn't kill the Muyaza, she held back all the time — especially with Tumus. The result — the Bluesmen had been decimated, the Muyaza refused to help her, and Tommy ... she had to stop thinking about that. Gregor had taught her to follow real evidence, facts not fancies. And Gregor was usually right. He believed in her. Maybe he was right about that, too.