Complete Magic Lands Books 1 & 2 Omnibus

by William Robert Stanek

  Tiny sips, with help, he realized. The hands he imagined as rough weren’t unkind. They were working hands; hands not unlike his father’s. It was his last thought as he let his eyes close.

  He’d no idea how long he’d slept when he was awoken abruptly. It was the thing in his hand again, pushed to his lips. This was okay, he thought, not so bad. He doesn’t even realize this wasn’t the first such awakening or that night has arrived before slumber took any other thoughts he might have had.

  Slowly, easy now, he tried to sit up. His eyes saw, but didn’t. Everything was out of focus. He felt pain; it was remote, almost as if another’s. Then he knew this came from Lucky. He shouted, “Lucky, Lucky!” Or at least he tried. The others, he felt them too.

  Something was wrong. There were hushed voices and noises all around him. He heard the unmistakable sound of drawn steel. It was a sound Inlanders learned, or died for the lack when the Outlanders came on.

  He felt the trembling earth, knew many approached. His first impulse was to reach for his staff, but it was nowhere for his hands to find. Somehow his fumbling fingers found the one who knelt beside him. “No, don’t,” he said, his voice scarcely a whisper.

  The hand that had given water was plied suddenly across his mouth. He struggled against it as he repeated his plea. The world has transformed, become a place he no longer knew. He has no control over anything, and could only grieve for what came.

  The pain was horrible, but worse than the pain was the grief. He used this grief, commanded his eyes to focus, forced his mind to block the throbbing as he stirred himself to action. He found his feet, shooting pain was nothing as to what came. He called out with the yearning, received replies in the same way. Their instincts were so much sharper than his. He trusted their sense, but the danger they saw could not exist.

  He pushed back, thoughts spinning out across the link despite a stinging desire. Absence as much as anything brought both searing pain and momentary clarity. Perhaps his mind deceived itself of its addiction, or perhaps his willpower was stronger than even he knew. Whatever the reason, he saw for the first time the stout, bearded people around him, knew without doubt the danger was illusory.

  “No, no,” he said, his voice stronger. He spoke as much to those that approached as to those that stood around him. “This is a mistake.”

  He twisted around the bearded ones until he was standing out in front, putting himself between them and what came. Discomfort turned to distress as each breath brought agony.

  In a matter of moments, Tall felt as if his mouth and throat were filled with blood. The coughing and sputtering began soon after and his head began to feel as if it was about to rip open. It was the seed. The lack. The withdrawal. The refusal to surrender to need while reaching out with a power he little understood.

  Tall knew he needed to succumb, to surrender, but refused. He reached and reached and reached instead. The world transformed. He saw white fire and ice blue and angry crimson. The crimson was new, frightening to behold as it spread to envelope everything and all. In this way he saw those who approached, the bearded ones, his pursuers, the wizard’s guard. Just there, not too far off was a web of lights from Adalayia. Circling out and beyond, the bright clusters from villages. Far, far out in the east was a glow so bright it could only be thought of as a star or a sun—if such brightness could emanate from so tiny a point. He knew with certainty this light came from the wizard himself. That one man had such power stunned.

  The warning came not from his mind but from his heart because the pain there when he beheld the star was surreal. He clutched his chest, fell to his knees. His distress froze everyone and everything around him. The smoot’s voice echoed in his ears, “In your heart, you, Tall, are a caller with the mind of a seer.”

  The beasts were there, coming out of the darkness. But the men, with their eyes wide, held still. While their wide-eyed gaze was on him, Tall’s gaze swept up and up, until finally he saw the great shadow that moved in the night sky. That the creature had no glow surprised. But it was there, hovering above, as surely as the moon and the stars. He was certain this was the perceived source of the danger and the confusion. Not the men or anything else.

  The creature Tall knew, and now he knew who he was among as well. He was among the undermountain men, and the creature landing beside the fire was a dragon lizard. He’d painted both, to the ire and scorn of the disbelievers in his village. How his heart ached when the lizard’s eyes beheld his own.

  He trembled and fell. Even as he gasped for air, he reached out. The lizard’s riders dismounted. He heard a voice, soft, as if from a distance, but he didn’t see the speaker. “Where did you come from?” The voice asked.

  It was a girl, or at least the voice was that of a girl, but Tall saw only the man who’d dismounted, walking toward him. His essence, like the lizard’s, was a dark void. The emptiness, the darkness. It was terrifying.

  Tall knew he needed to do something, but he could only tremble as he gasped for air. You got a minute, he told himself. A minute to live. Why couldn’t he breathe? Why was there no air?

  The man shouted angrily. Tall didn’t understand. The girl, behind the man, said, “Who are you? How do you summon them?”

  The man, so close now Tall felt his breath on his face, continued shouting. The girl said, “Why do they come to your call? Where do they come from? Why are you here?”

  Tall heard but couldn’t process any of it. He knew only pain. His lungs were on fire. Blood poured from his mouth. He realized then, in these final moments, that he was still reaching out. The more he reached, the more the void took. Darkness swallowed him.

  Chapter 14: An Unwanted Truth

  Whatever vague truth Tall conjured of a need maintained him. He watched the darkness circle and swirl. Something kept him conscious, barely so. He saw the girl, standing still. Her fists were clenched. She was staring, surrounded in an eerie haze. It was night still but there was a strange luminescence behind her. Something or someone was hidden there. His mind knew but his eyes didn’t see.

  “Dea…” He started to say. She gave him something. He drank it.

  How long he stared up at her he couldn’t say, but the darkness finally began to recede, which was good, because he was bleeding again. This time from his nose, mouth, and ears. His eyes wanted to close as his body began to convulse. He didn’t realize it was trying desperately to rid itself of the toxins he’d been ingesting since becoming addicted to the seed.

  He waited for the quiet, for the convulsing to end. It didn’t come. The force of the blooding brought tears. They stung. His clothes were drenched in sweat. She offered more drink. Somehow, he swallowed past blood and vomit. He hadn’t realized he’d been vomiting. But he had. It was as strong as the blooding.

  “You’ve the wizard’s sickness,” her soft voice told him. “Grandin has never seen it so bad, says most that try to come over die at this point. He says you’re a corpse, only you refuse death. I think it is they who keep you.” She pointed out into the darkness. “If they hear your thoughts, I urge you. Tell them to come no closer. They upset Rhyliath and I don’t know what Grandin will do if they come on.”

  His hand fumbled, searched the ground. His pack had what he needed. “Dea…” He started to say again.

  She knelt beside him, wiped his face. “Don’t die,” she said quietly. “We need you. Alkin says you’ve the light of a seer. Our seer was lost in the last attack.”

  Tall reached out to her, saw strands of bloodied hair in his hand. He stared, fascinated by the blood and the vapors rising from it. His muscles reacted to his body’s convulsing. He twisted into a tighter ball.

  “Fight it,” she told him. “Live.”

  Tall found momentary clarity. He stared up into her large, blue eyes. “My pack. The blue pods.”

  “Alkin says…”

  He seized her arm at the wrist. “Just a few. I’ll die otherwise.”

  The girl glanced nervously over her shoulder. “Okay,
just a few.”

  Tall’s body shook greedily. The girl disappeared into the darkness for a short time, returned with pods from his pack. He tried to take a pod, but his hands shook so much he couldn’t. “You do,” he said through gritted teeth. “The seed. Inside.”

  She split open a pod. Seeds spilled into her hand. “These?” she started to say. Tall buried his face in her hand, ate them like an animal.

  Immediate calm draped him, like a blanket pulled snug around his shoulders would chase away the cold. His convulsions came only intermittently then. Then they were gone and so was the sickness. He wiped vomit and spittle from his face, tried to stand but found his legs were weak.

  Unable to stand, he sat and stared up at the girl who wasn’t quite as he’d seen her before. Perhaps what he’d seen before was an illusion of the withdrawal. The face though was the same. Her nose. Her eyes. Her cheeks. Even her pout. The rest of her was different. She wore a rider’s clothes with high boots, leathers, and a cape. Her long hair was held in place by a circlet. She looked older, almost regal, and when she spoke, the words came with another’s voice. “Deanna,” he said. “You’re so different.”

  One of the burly undermountain men interrupted her response with angry, shouted words. This attracted three others; a fight started. Tall understood nothing of what was said.

  The girl put herself between the one and the three. Tall noticed the one was dressed similarly in high boots, leathers, and a cape while the three wore simpler clothes: Jerkins, shirts with long sleeves, fur trimmed boots. Mostly they were unadorned, save for the belts and helms which were etched with various symbols.

  “Boy,” the girl said, her voice edged with desperation as she turned a tight circle and drew her blade. “Leave.”

  Tall didn’t understand what was happening. He knew enough, though, to know he couldn’t leave her. She was defending him and keeping four others at bay. Until this day, he’d only seen swords used to hack and slash, maim and kill. He’d never known they could move like lightning or with such grace. Whatever words they shouted as they fought, she gave back as well as she took.

  Tall pushed himself to his knees, forced himself to stand. He found focus, reached out. The answers returned at once. Lady. Lucky. Hazard. Bent Snout. Big Feet. Snub Nose. Ever Hungry. Horn Eyes. Big Tooth. The others. They all came. He felt them and the tethers were no longer wisps. They had substance.

  The dragon lizard took flight as his brood came on. Soon the men who surrounded the girl were themselves surrounded. Tall pushed into this circle as the men turned to attack.“Enough! Enough!” He shouted. “I’ll leave and you’ll come away with me.” This last he said to her.

  “Stay out of this,” the girl hissed as she parried four blades. “And I’ve changed my mind. You’ll go nowhere. I need you to help me find them.”

  Tall was frightened, terribly so. “To find who, Deanna? This doesn’t make any sense.”

  The girl defended. “That’s twice now,” she said.

  “Twice what?” Tall countered.

  “I must know,” the girl said through gritted teeth as she attacked. “Where do you come from? How do they come to your call? I’ll be able to save them if I know.”

  The girl twisted and turned. The men twisted around her.

  Terrified, Tall gulped and swallowed. “To save who?”

  “Kerry and the other Outlander,” the girl said as she swept her sword up in a sharp arc.

  Tall melted back, shrinking away from the melee. “Other Outlander?”

  She offered no immediate response. Instead she grunted, rolled, and came up with her blade, cutting into the men even as they came at her. It was then Tall started to see the melee for what it was. It was a contest of sorts. No one was trying to draw blood though they attack each other ferociously.

  “This is sport?” Tall said. “You contest over me? Am I some sort of prize?”

  “Prize?” The girl spat back, then she spoke in the harsh style of the men. There was laughter and with this the melee stopped. “Well, prize,” she said. “They said I may keep you.”

  The laughter stung. Tall didn’t understand it. He didn’t understand any of it. He turned away to greet his brood. He ran a hand down Lucky’s mane, put his other hand down to Horn Eyes. Horn Eyes put the hand in his mouth and gnawed gently. He was scratching Big Tooth behind the ears when the other came to stand beside him, sheathing her sword. Her brow was wet with perspiration.

  With his new clarity of mind and her standing so close, he saw she wasn’t as he’d imagined. She wasn’t who he imagined either. Still, her likeness to Deanna was uncanny. It was as if it were Deanna but a Deanna aged by many winters. He knew this mostly because of the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes. He imagined that if Deanna and this woman stood beside each other people would think the two were daughter and mother.

  “The other Outlander,” the woman said. “He looked almost like you.”

  Tall wondered for a moment if she could read minds. “You’re the Outlander,” he said.

  She said something he didn’t understand to the men. More laughter followed. The only thing he thought he understood of any of it was a name. Ray.

  “Ray?” Tall asked.

  The woman said, “The other Outland. The one like you.”

  Tall glared. “The Inderland is my home. My village is in the Nahterh’n. My father is Dent. My mother is Marta.” The Inderland, his village, his mother, his father. These were things that made sense to him. Nothing else at the moment did.

  “I knew Nahter as I knew Wav’er,” the woman said. Then she smiled, warm and genuine. “Both heroes. Both protectors. Are you, Tall, a protector? Do you have it in you?” She poked his chest with her finger.

  Tall rejected her smile as he rejected her. “You couldn’t possibly have known Nahter and Wav’er. They walked before my father’s father’s father.”

  “And yet,” the woman said, reaching out her hand. “I knew them as I will know you. The wizard’s men have Ray and I need help to win him back.”

  Tall eyed the outstretched hand. “Why?”

  “I am Avea,” the woman said. “If I get Ray back, I can save my Kerry. The wizard has her, like he’ll soon have Ray.”

  “Your Kerry?” Tall shot back.

  “My granddaughter,” she replied. “The wizard already has her mother. He collects us. Tree singers, that is.”

  “Your granddaughter? You don’t look a day older than—” Tall stopped mid sentence, changed direction. “Ray isn’t a tree singer. He’s just Ray.”

  The woman, Avea, seemed about to reply but was interrupted by the undermountain man dressed like her. “Alkin,” Tall heard her say, as if that was the man’s name. Another joined them. He was the largest of the three others. To him, Avea said “Grandin” in greeting. They began to speak heatedly.

  A voice came out of the darkness, “Ray is worth a thousand tree singers to the wizard. We must rescue him even if it means we cannot save Kerry.”

  Tall turned, jerked back when he saw the dragon lizard behind him. His bulls swept in protectively, but he waved them back.

  “Introductions,” the lizard said, nodding his head. “I am Rhyliath.”

  Tall was confused. The huge lizard couldn’t possibly speak and yet it had spoken.

  “Not it, he,” Rhyliath said. “And I don’t speak so much as you listen. If you learn to listen, you’ll be able to understand everyone and everything, as Avea does.”

  Tall’s incredulous look said he disbelieved. Rhyliath continued, “Not everyone can speak so you can listen. And stop thinking of me as a talking lizard. I’m neither lizard nor dragon. Dragons are myths.”

  Tall told himself that he wished wizards were myths. If they were, Ray’d be home and none of this ever would’ve happened.

  “Is your Ray, our Ray?” Rhyliath asked.

  Tall said, “Ray, son of—”

  “Son of Waddymarre,” Rhyliath completed for Tall. “And do you know who Waddymarre was?”<
br />
  “Waddymarre is,” Tall corrected.

  Tears found Rhyliath’s eyes. Tall had no idea such a creature could cry. “Was,” Rhyliath said firmly. “He belongs to the tree now, as does Sharah.”

  Tall swallowed hard, sudden tears welled up in his eyes. He cried out, “Ray’s father and mother? What happened? You must tell me.”

  Rhyliath turned his head away, spoke to the darkness, “The wizard.”

  “The wizard what?” Tall screamed.

  “The wizard’s men attacked your village.”

  “What? When?” Tall started to ask, but Avea, suddenly standing in front of Rhyliath, shouted, “Rhyliath, that’s enough.”

  Rhyliath lumbered away without a further word, though something passed between him and Avea before he launched into the dark sky.