by Stuart Jaffe
Even though she heard laughter from her mouth and her body shook, Malja also felt tears trickle on her face. "It's over," she said, jerking Skvalan from his own slumber. "I can act tough forever, and it won't matter. I care. I do. But we can't stop them if we can't get to them. You want to know why I agreed to come in here, why I got drunk, why I let Cole go running around? Because it's over. We lose."
Skvalan shook his head and spit to the side. He might not have understood a lot of her words, but Malja could tell he understood her tone. Perhaps the alcohol had gotten to her or the unyielding stress — whatever the cause, she felt tears. Not crying, pitiful tears but raging, frustrated ones. She wanted to pummel something, assert her strength, remind this Muyaza why he feared her not too long ago. She watched the fire cast orange and black against the walls. She didn't move.
Cole darted into the room, her face flushed, and said, "You must come see this."
If not for Cole's urgency, Malja would have rolled over and slept. Instead, she let Skvalan help her up. They followed Cole through the elegant corridors of the mansion. These weren't the sterile white of Barris Mont's old office or the decayed grandeur of Ms. Nolan's place. These walls hinted at a youthful, new wealth with plenty of technological remnants that Malja had no knowledge of how to use. No wonder Cole wanted to snoop around here.
Cole led them into a wide open room of cool, smooth stone and sharp, musty odors. A blue, boxy contraption on four wheels filled up half the room. Cole ran her hand along the thing and slapped its metal body.
"Have you ever seen one in such good condition?"
Malja rubbed her head — she still felt a bit tipsy. "What is it?"
"Why it's a grounder, silly."
Malja inspected the grounder again, trying to imagine it as one of the rusting, hollowed out shells that dotted the world. "Didn't know they had wheels."
"They did, and a lot more. This one has been sitting here, protected from rain and wind and animals and thieves, just waiting for us. All it needs is some power and a little attention, then it'll run."
Skvalan nodded. "It is like horse?"
"Better than a horse. With this we can follow the old roads and even with stopping to clear overgrowth and as long as we don't suffer any major breakdowns, we'll reach the City of Ashes by tomorrow night. We just have to change the batteries." Cole hefted a pack of two large cylinders encircled with a coil.
"Well," Malja said, "unless one of you has suddenly become a magician and can produce electricity, this is all pretty useless to us."
"These batteries are in excellent condition. The best I've ever seen. Even if it takes us two days to find power, we'd still—" Cole stopped, her mouth agape, her eyes lost. "Willie?"
Malja turned around. Willie stood in the doorway.
But not Willie, too.
The creature had Willie's form but not entirely. One eye was clouded over like Old McKinley. And the corners of his mouth turned up like Shotgun. His stature belonged to Willie but his belly borrowed from Suzu.
With a guttural yell, Skvalan rushed forward. Thousands of insects, maybe millions, crawled out of the creature and covered him in a living armor — cockroaches, ants, tapats, silvers, and any number of bugs Malja could not identify. Skvalan punched the creature. The creature stepped back an inch — nothing more. Skvalan, however, clasped his fingers and grimaced as if he had broken his hand. A powerful back fist from Willie sent Skvalan tumbling against the grounder.
The insects skittered away. Some disappeared into his clothes. Others used his ears or nose as an exit. Some left his body for the walls and floor.
Willie lifted his arm. A jagged tattoo marked the underside.
"What is it?" Malja asked.
In a stunned voice, Cole said, "Magic I never believed in entirely — raising the dead. Jarik and Callib brought him back to get rid of us."
Willie stared at his tattoo.
"He has magic now?"
"He is magic. They probably didn't have time to be specific, so they just raised everything in the same ground as Willie."
"But he —"
"Dear child, are you going to stand here and let him get that spell off or are you going to kill him?"
Malja whipped out Viper and attacked. As she swung her blood-hungry blade, the insect armor reformed. Viper slashed through, splattering insects and knocking Willie back into the house, but drew no blood. Malja followed in and attacked again. Each hit knocked away insects and pushed Willie back further, but more of the bugs filled in the damage.
They entered a kitchen — sinks and counters remained as well as many metallic, boxy objects Malja had never seen before. She kept her focus on Willie. Even through her constant slashes, Willie maintained his focus on his tattoo — seeming to see through the insects.
Malja brought Viper around and attacked the tattooed arm. The insects clicked and chittered loudly. A new arm formed below the tattooed arm. This new arm also formed an insect sword. It deflected Malja's blow, spraying the walls with roaches and beetles.
The arm retaliated, and Malja went on the defensive. Blow after pounding blow pushed her abilities. Death had not lessened Willie's swordsmanship.
Malja tried to counter, but the attacks came too fast. Forced into blocking each swing, she struggled to find an opening. Her body tired, while his insects seemed stronger.
In a desperate move, she ducked under his swing and slashed at his legs. She lopped off the left at the knee. Willie broke off his assault, hopped backwards, and waited as the bugs formed a new leg.
Panting, sweating, and tired, Malja watched Willie like a wary rabbit sensing danger -– still, but ready to leap.
"You can't beat me," Willie said. "I was too strong before and now, with my magic, you're hardly worth the time." The insects peeled down off his head and torso, creating an undulating mass around his legs. "But I'm a Bluesman, and we follow through when we're paid."
"You were never paid to kill me," Malja said.
"Just slow you down; hinder your progress." An electric ball burst into existence between his fingers. "Killing your friends should do that for me." He thrust his arm forward, shooting ball after ball of dazzling blue-white lightning. They sizzled and crackled toward Cole. Malja jumped in the way.
Before she could be hit, the ball broke into long, jagged strands. Each strand curved back as if a massive wind blew against it. The magic lit up the room as it passed over Willie's confused face and shot into a dark figure standing with arms outstretched.
"Tumus?"
The Chi-Chun woman continued absorbing the lightning and said, "Hurry. I can't do this for long."
Flinging forward, Malja hooked Viper into Willie's back and brought his innards toward her. He tried to summon his bugs, but Malja slashed, hooked, and tore with furious abandon — the insects could not move fast enough. Not when his focus fought in too many directions.
The lightning ended. Willie's hacked body dropped. The insects scattered.
Malja glanced at Tumus. Little sparks of lightning danced between her limbs, each time pulling a pained cry from her clenched mouth. Good, Malja thought. As fast as the thought arrived it brought with it the reason for her anger — Tommy.
Moving her lips the bare minimum, Tumus said, "Get away. Can't hold on to this much longer."
Malja didn't move. Cole, however, sprinted across the kitchen. "Wait," she cried, bringing the batteries to Tumus and showing her where to touch for recharging. As the magic drained from Tumus, she sighed like a child relieving a full bladder. Calmer, she recharged the second battery. When the last of the magic left her body, she dropped on the floor and wiped her drenched brow.
"You aren't welcome here," Malja said.
Tumus shrugged off Malja's words. "Korstra has different plans."
"The brother god gets no say. Tommy's gone because of you. You're not welcome."
"Do not forget that I just saved your life. And do not believe you're superior to me. I did not try to get rid of the chil
d. You did that."
Malja's hand tightened around Viper's grip. "I was protecting him. If he had come with me, the Bluesmen might've killed him."
"What makes you think we were any safer? Stuck alone in the Freelands? Yet we waited. For days. Barely any food. Every little sound a possible threat. Korstra looked over us, though. He was our true protector."
"Then let him protect you some more. You're not welcome, and I don't want you following us."
"I care nothing about what you want. I'm going to help save that boy."
Malja looked to Cole and Skvalan. Cole found something on the battery to draw her attention while Skvalan discovered the wonders of picking at his elbow. "They don't understand. They don't know you. You'll put Korstra ahead of all else."
"I will fulfill my duties. Korstra brought Tommy into my life, and I will get him back."
Malja turned away. As much as she wanted to lash out further, she knew Tumus was not to blame. Dangerous to a team, yes. But not to blame. "It doesn't matter," she said. "We're too far behind. Even with a grounder, we'll never get to him in time."
Tumus brightened. "So you do believe they took Tommy."
"Listen to me. We can't get to the City of Ashes in time. So go home. It's all over."
Struggling to stand like a newborn foal, Tumus let out a muted yelp. When she stood, she took a boastful breath and said, "Powerful magic takes more than tattoos and time. It takes strength and energy. Creating a creature from bits of the dead is extremely powerful magic. Imbuing such a monstrosity with lightning magic and the power over insects is practically unheard of. No matter how strong Jarik and Callib are, the energy they expended to stop you will have weakened them extensively. Perhaps for days."
"You're saying they've camped out?"
"Or their followers are carrying them. Either way, they will not be capable of powerful magic for a little while."
"That's good information. Thank you. Now get out of here. Go pray to Korstra or something."
"You stupid fool. I will go to the City of Ashes. I will follow you if you won't allow me to be a part of your group, but I will go."
Malja's face blazed. She wanted to cut Tumus. Shaking her head, she reined in and stomped off to the foyer campfire. She paced the wide hall and kicked any debris that dared to block her path. Though fuming, an odd grin crossed her lips — she knew anger so well it had become an old, welcome friend. Something shivered beneath her rage, however. A sense of wrong, a sense of sadness and regret — an emotion tied to the name Tommy. She mashed it well with anger. She could swallow any emotion with anger. Normally that ended it. But everything surrounding Tommy kept resurfacing.
Skvalan walked in. "Grounder run soon."
Malja nodded.
Skvalan nudged the fire with a rock until it flared up. "Tumus come, too."
Malja squatted next to him and let out a tense breath.
"I love wife. I go. She love Tommy. She go, too."
Malja closed her eyes.
Skvalan said, "She helps."
"She's a zealot. That's why Tommy's gone. She refused to follow my orders and instead follows her brother god."
"What you mean? Zealot?"
"Forget it."
Skvalan rubbed his ample belly. "We go fight magic. We need magic. She has magic."
"Look, I know you want her with us, and I know that she can help. But I don't trust her. I can't."
"Trust Cole? I think no."
With a begrudging grumble, she said, "Cole's not so bad."
"Trust me?"
"You want revenge for your wife and village. I understand that better than you'll ever know. You, I trust."
Skvalan stopped picking at the fire and faced Malja. "We need magic. Tumus come. Trust me."
Malja made a bitter face. To stand her ground against Skvalan meant at best, creating a rift between each member of the team and at worst, breaking them apart. Being alone would be nice but would not be good strategy at the moment. "Fine," Malja said, a bit more aggressively than she intended. "She can come, but she'd better be careful."
"Good." He said nothing more as they waited for the grounder to be ready. For that, Malja was grateful.
Chapter 21
Riding a horse never bothered Malja, but just a few seconds on the sea could flip her stomach. Sitting in the front passenger seat of a grounder while suffering a hangover proved an odd mix of both. She felt fine, despite the constant bumps and swerves as Cole guided the vehicle along uneven macadam, overgrown dirt paths, and rocky, dried riverbeds — as long as Malja kept her eyes forward. Whenever she chanced a peek out the side window, her stomach would lurch its bitter, acidic contents straight up her throat.
At least twice every hour they had to stop to clear out a fallen tree or dig through a wall of rocks. These hindrances provided Malja with some time to relax her stomach. Even heavy lifting or hard work chopping wood felt better to her body than the unnatural motions of a grounder. She couldn't comprehend how people once used these machines all day long.
She was a bit thankful for her hangover, because nobody bothered her. Cole drove. Skvalan and Tumus sat in back. They spoke quietly throughout the day. Apparently Tumus knew the Muyaza language — a fact she never bothered to mention before. Had Malja felt better, she would have yelled for a while about it, but being sick saved her from that foolishness as well.
And it was foolish. She had no regrets about the previous night — she truly worried about where Tumus's allegiance ultimately fell — but this day, hours later and sober, she could admit that Skvalan also spoke some truth. Tumus cared for Tommy and felt deep pain over what had happened. Yelling at the woman did nothing to help.
Cole brought the grounder to a halt and squinted off to the left. "I wonder," she muttered and got out. The others followed.
A few yards into the trees lay the wreckage of some vehicle. As Malja stepped closer, her eyes widened. It was the trader's flatbed.
Weyargo's mutilated body had been wrapped around a tree. Malja said, "I met him once. Nice man. He had a magician with him to power this thing."
Everybody glanced around. "Animals eat," Skvalan said.
"Perfect," Cole said. She had been dallying with the flatbed's batteries.
Malja perked up. "Can we use those?"
"Not directly, but we can drain some of the power to recharge ours. Shouldn't take too long."
Malja checked the sun. "Get to it. We don't want to be stuck here tonight. That dead trader'll attract plenty of attention."
Cole was true to her word. In less than an hour, she had managed to get a quarter charge added to their grounder's batteries. She complained that she had lost a lot in the transference, but Malja figured every little bit got them that much closer.
After a few hours driving, Cole pointed ahead and said, "Look at that."
They had crested a small rise and for an instant the trees parted. In the distance, they saw the City of Ashes. Endless rows of gray and black shapes sprinkled the mountains like rotting, jagged teeth.
"We probably can get another hour in before it's too dark to drive. Tomorrow, though, we'll be there."
They managed an hour and a half. Malja suspected Cole pushed the extra time not because of good light, but rather out of a desire to finish this mess she had joined. Malja didn't mind. They had made the extra time without incident and were that much closer.
Later that night while Skvalan's deep snores creaked like an ancient wooden ship, Malja watched the City of Ashes and heard violence running wild in the streets. Flashes of magic and plumes of fire rippled along the city. The sounds reached across the sky like distant thunder.
As she settled in next to Malja, Cole said, "The few clans living there go crazy over territory wars. Jarik and Callib probably keep the peace a little better, but they're absent right now."
"I thought you liked anarchy."
"In the Freelands, yes. There are miles of nothingness separating small pockets of people. One government, one set o
f laws to rule all would never work in a place like that. But in a city where people clash together non-stop — well, just listen to that lunacy."
As if in response, a series of green bursts popped along the streets followed by two heavy booms like massive cannons.
"Did you want something?" Malja asked. She pulled out Viper and worked the blade with a good stone she had found on the ground. She would have preferred her whetstone, but that now collected silt at the bottom of the Yad River.
Cole clasped her hands in her lap, straightened her back, and curled her legs to the side as if posing for a sculptor. After all the hiking and trudging and fighting, Malja had forgotten just how beautiful Cole could be. "When we arrive at the city," Cole said, "we'll head west for several blocks until we reach the Kryssta temple. From there we go north until we find the Skyway Bridge. There's where we'll find Jarik and Callib."
Malja continued to run Viper across the stone, creating a rhythmic scratching like a machine needing oil. "Why are you telling me this?"
"I could tell you that you need to know in case something happens to me, or I could even say that it's all about stopping Jarik and Callib. But the real reason — I don't know exactly. Aren't I just a fool? I suppose I want you to keep me in the group, even though you don't need me for information."
"Being part of a group isn't very anarchic."
"Pure anarchy cannot be maintained for long."
Malja gestured to the city. "They're doing a pretty good job at it."
"Only when their Masters are gone." Cole shifted closer, lowering her body in an apologetic fashion. "I know you've got many valid reasons not to want me along, but when I watched you and Tumus argue ... well, you both fought passionately, because you both love this boy. The only thing I've ever felt that much passion for is my work."
"And Jarik and Callib have that now."
"Yes. I suppose I want it back, but it's more than that. I want to help you and be a part of something good. I know my time with the Bluesmen became a horrible screw-up. I know that. But my heart was in the right place. I just wanted to open up the possibilities for everyone, so magicians like Jarik and Callib couldn't rule over everybody."
