"Um . . . Ether," she said, sheepishly.
The shapeshifter was sitting among the crackling flames. Her eyes were closed, dutifully ignoring the creature.
"I know you don't like me, but . . . I get the feeling you wouldn't lie to me. You don't care about my feelings," Ivy said.
"I am enormously concerned about your feelings. I am certain that if they go unchecked they will be the end of us," Ether answered.
"That's why you don't like me. B-because of my . . . my feelings," Ivy said.
"They are chief among a sizable list of faults," Ether answered.
"So, if I . . . control my emotions. Then you won't hate me so much," Ivy said.
"Why are you speaking to me? You know that no good will come of it," Ether said.
"I don't want to go. I want to know what I can do to stay," Ivy said.
"You were created specifically to infiltrate and destroy the Chosen," Ether said.
"I wasn't!" Ivy snapped, quickly composing herself. "I wasn't, but I know that you don't believe me. What can I do to prove to you that you are wrong?"
"There is nothing you can do. You cannot disprove what I know to be true," Ether stated.
Myranda could feel the frustration and irritation fluttering just below the surface, but whenever it arose, she pushed it down again. Carefully, she opened her eyes slightly. Ivy was kneeling before the flames, her hands clasped. Begging.
"Then tell me how I can help you, how I can abandon them," she asked.
"Attempting to prove loyalty through treachery. Only a truly inferior mind could have produced such a flawed concept," she jabbed.
Ivy took a deep breath as Myranda felt another surge of anger come and go.
"Then what about Lain? What can I do to convince him?" she asked.
"Again, absolutely nothing. His concerns, well-founded, are that you will get yourself killed if left to your own devices, and his judgment is muddled by the same impairment that renders you such a liability. He cares about you. Even if you were to present to him a solid, sound, and irrefutable reason to change his mind, I assure you, he would not do so. It was among the first of my observations of mortals. Emotion robs them of reason," Ether said.
"Well . . . well, you aren't emotional, right? What would you do, if you were me?" she said.
"End my own life," she answered without hesitation.
"Why can't you help me!?" Ivy said, her objection choked off by a knot in her throat.
"Ivy," Myranda said, sitting up.
She turned, then looked away quickly, trying to hide her tears.
"You weren't supposed to hear that," she said.
"Listen, Ivy. I want you to know that I am sorry for what I said before. I didn't mean it," she said.
"Yes, you did. You were just too nice to say that before. That's why I didn't want to talk to you. You would be nice. You wouldn't be honest," she said.
"All right. You want honesty? I am afraid. I am afraid when you lose control. But mostly I am afraid we might lose you. That is what Lain is afraid of, too. I said it before. We need you. And even if we didn't, I wouldn’t want to see you get hurt," she said.
"What do I do?" she pleaded.
"You need to learn control. That will come with time," she said.
"What about Ether?" she asked.
"Don't mind Ether. She can't help the way she is, just as you can't help the way you are. Don't take too much of what she says to heart. She hasn't learned to deal with people yet," Myranda said.
"I've no interest in learning so distasteful a lesson," Ether remarked.
"Well, what about Lain?" she asked.
"Lain . . . Lain knows that what we are doing is very dangerous. He is willing to risk his own life. He isn't willing to risk yours. I believe in you. I know that if you do the best you can, and we work together, then we can do what needs to be done, and we can protect each other. We just need to make him see that," Myranda said.
"So, if I prove that I can take care of myself, I might be able to stay?" she said.
"I can't say for sure, but . . . perhaps," Myranda said.
"Then I'll do it!" she decided.
"Good, we need you," Myranda said.
With the weight of her words off her chest and a flicker of hope that they would keep the group together, she settled down for sleep again. This time it came swiftly. The sky was still black when Ivy shook Myranda awake again. She had a strange look on her face. It was a mix of fear with a dash of excitement.
"Six of them. Human soldiers, a few miles away," she said breathlessly.
"Standard patrol, due south. They are headed away now, but they will swing further this way with the next pass. A few hours," Lain explained.
"I smelled them first. I knew they were coming," she said.
"We can't move yet, but soon--and quickly," Lain said.
"If they are to the south, where will we go? The mountains?" Myranda asked.
"No. It will slow us. West. Then south through the fields," he said.
Lain trained his nose to the south, sampling the air. Ether took her place beside Lain. She shifted to wind and prompted a gentle breeze. Ivy quickly took a place between them, mimicking Lain as closely as possible. Ether moved to the other side, only to have Ivy wedge herself between again.
"Now," Lain stated.
Ivy nodded. She rushed to Myranda and took her hand, pulling her forward. The four whisked across the field at Lain's pace. There wasn't nearly enough light to see what was ahead. Only Lain seemed to know. Ivy was just eager, even desperate to stay by his side. Ether swept effortlessly as wind. Myranda could hardly breathe, but she did her best to keep up the pace. If not for Ivy's firm and insistent aid, Myranda would scarcely have had a chance of staying with them. The malthrope had a look of determination, of focus. Without a word, Lain shifted his path. Now they were headed south.
Suddenly, Ivy froze. Her head turned and locked onto the darkness to the west. Lain stopped and turned. His gaze was enough to urge forward, but Ivy wouldn't budge. She was trembling slightly. Ether came to a stop, floating above her, looking down with mild disgust. Then she too turned to face the darkness.
"D'karon," she said, darting toward the source of Ivy's fear.
"Never mind her. Keep moving," Lain urged.
"I . . . I . . . no. We have to stay together. We have to protect each other. She'll be killed!" Ivy decided.
Without time for another word, Ivy was off, Myranda still in her grasp. Behind them, the rapid strides of Lain could just barely be heard. Somehow, he managed to sprint almost silently. The same was not so for Ivy, as each step crunched loudly on the icy ground. She cast a glance back and saw him quickly closing the gap between them. Myranda was holding onto Ivy with one arm and her staff and bag with the other, her feet barely touching the ground.
"He is going to catch up," Ivy said nervously.
"You need to slow down. We need to be cautious. Wait for him, we can do this together," Myranda urged with what breath she had to spare.
"No. If he catches up, he will stop me, and I won't get to show him that I can do this. You will have to run on your own. Promise you'll follow me," Ivy said.
"I promise," Myranda agreed.
The malthrope released her and doubled her pace. With nothing but her ever-present club to carry, she was now at least a match for Lain's speed.
Myranda ran for all she was worth. Moments later, Lain tore past her as though she were standing still. The pounding footsteps of Ivy retreated into the distance, and Myranda found herself alone in the pitch-black night, her legs burning with fatigue, her lungs frozen from the night air. The ground began to slope gently upwards.
At the crest of the hill, Myranda found Lain. She tried to pass him, but he grabbed her. Without a word, he pointed to the ground that sloped away ahead of them. It looked strange. In most places in the north, the earth was a frozen mass, unbroken and undisturbed for a dozen winters. The ground beyond the hill was different. It was churned up, a
lmost as though it had been tilled and plowed. Soil was visible among the snow and ice, which meant the earth had been disturbed since the last snowfall.
"What is it?" Myranda asked.
Lain silently pointed. Myranda strained her eyes. Patches of the gray ground seemed to be moving. Bulges were rippling their way across the ground. Tracing their course forward led her eyes to Ivy. She was standing perfectly still in the center of the field, and judging by the steadily intensifying blue aura about her, she was petrified by the churning earth. As her fear grew, the aura grew brighter, making more of the field visible to even Myranda's eyes. She quickly scanned the area. The low hill they were perched upon seemed to ring the field. At the center was a structure low to the ground, made of an ancient-looking gray wood. There was one enormous door hinged at the bottom like a drawbridge, and a slight wisp of thin smoke streamed from a stout rectangular chimney.
Slowly, one by one, the bulges stopped approaching and sunk back into the ground.
"What are they?" Myranda whispered.
"I don't know," Lain said.
Ivy hesitantly took another step toward the fort. The instant her foot touched the ground, a handful of the bulges rose up again and began to move toward her. Again she froze, and slowly they submerged.
"Ivy! Hold still!" Myranda called out.
Ivy couldn't stop shaking. When the last piece of ground sunk back into place, the things were only a few paces away. She looked to her friends. There was concern on Myranda's face. Lain was steady as always. Not a drop of the fear that was fairly coursing through her veins. She could feel it passing a threshold, taking hold of her like it had before. Her fingers tightened on the grip of the club. Not today. She turned to the doors and sprinted. Out of the corners of her eyes, she saw more ripples than she could count streak past her. She pushed them from her mind and pressed on. She would prove herself.
Myranda watched in horror. Each step coaxed a half-dozen more of the threatening ripples to the surface. It was the steps. The bulges only rose when Ivy's feet hit the ground. The vibrations must have been alerting them.
Suddenly, directly in Ivy's path, one of the creatures responsible burst from the ground. It was a horrid sight. She skidded to a stop a hair in front of the beast. A worm writhed before her, leathery gray skin arranged in thick overlapping plates like armor. It was thick as her waist and longer than she was tall. The front split like a flower, with four jagged jaws snapping. A dozen needle-sharp tongues flitted in and out. The fear leapt back into her throat and burned at her mind. Reflexively, she raised her club.
"Ivy, no!" Myranda shouted.
The weapon came down with shattering force. When she raised it again, what lay beneath resembled a smashed cigar. A dash of yellow mixed with her blue aura and the beginnings of a smile came to her face. She turned to see if her friends had seen her conquest. The sight she beheld wiped the smile from her face and brought renewed intensity to her fear. Like a wave spreading across a still lake, the creatures burst from the ground in an ever-increasing circle around her.
Lain could wait no longer. He rushed into the field. With the threat thus revealed, he could navigate the field without surprises. There were thousands of the worms. The whole of the field was an undulating mass--but with each footstep, the worms shifted like a tide to the place it landed, opening a tiny patch of land behind. Where there was no clearing, a swift swipe of his blade made one.
Ivy's eyes shot from the threat that surrounded her to the savior that approached her. As frightened as she was by the danger all around, she was more frightened of being left behind by these people who had plucked her from her prison. She couldn't risk it. She couldn't risk being rescued. It would rob her of perhaps her only chance to prove herself. The worms jabbed at her feet, but she was swift. Her movements became fluid, purposeful. Her grace was easily a match for Lain's precision. Finally, she sprang with all of her might to the door and caught hold of one of the cross-planks halfway up. She flipped the club into the air and scrambled up the door, catching the weapon like a baton as it fell. The entire maneuver was so practiced, so effortless, it seemed choreographed. She planted her heels onto the top of the door and her back against the stone wall and pushed.
The door was enormous. It should have taken a team of horses to open, but with her already unnatural strength fueled by fear and desperation, the thick slat began to creak. Not quickly enough, though. Lain was nearly there. She struck madly at the slat with heavy blows of the club, splintering the wood. Finally, it split in two, the piece she was perched upon crashed to the ground, crushing the worms that had gathered to attack the last place her foot had found purchase. She dropped, rather less gracefully than she had climbed, through the hole.
Myranda stood motionless at the edge of the field, unnoticed by the worms that had swarmed over the huge plank of wood, rendering it a scattered pile of shards in moments. Lain managed to spring over the undulating mass and climbed inside the fort. Now it was left for her to do the same. When there seemed no more targets to destroy, the worms slowly settled into the ground as easily as into a pool of water. In a matter of heartbeats, there was nothing left in the courtyard but a series of furrows where the horrid beasts had surfaced and submerged.
Myranda knew she couldn't outmaneuver the beasts as the others had, but it was clear that the monsters blindly attacked anything that shook the ground. The more the ground shook, the more madly they attacked. She called to mind the teachings of Cresh, her mentor in earth magic. She focused on a point far to the left of the fort and began to force her will into the ground. Before she could even sense she was having an effect, the beasts were visibly migrating to the point. When they reached it, they began to thrash about, searching for whatever might be causing the tremors.
Before long, the blind, deaf creatures turned to blame each other. She maintained the tremor long enough to reach the door and climbed as best she could with her staff in her hand.
#
The image flickered away. Deacon's eyes closed. He turned back to his task. He had managed to secure the large bag of gold coins the village kept. It was the accumulated wealth of the entire village, with the exception of the small horde kept by the dragon Solomon, and oddly it was one of the least protected of its valuables. The coins were scattered about the table. Some were heads up. Others tails up.
"Heads," he said, tossing a handful into the air.
They dropped to the table and rattled to a rest, all heads up. He shook his head. It wasn't enough. He knew a dozen spells that could cause the coins to land as he chose. He wasn't casting any of them. He did nothing to the coins. What he had changed was the odds. But it wasn't enough. It didn't prove if the spell was sufficient. Heads. Tails. It could only be one or the other. Or . . .
He turned all of his training, all of his years of education, to the task of honing the spell. He swept all of the coins from the table and cupped them in his hands. Closing his eyes, he threw them in the air. They clattered down again. Bouncing. Skipping. Spinning. Finally, they were still and silent. Slowly he opened his eyes. Some coins were on the floor. Others on the other chair. Most were on the table. Every last one was standing on its edge. That was enough.
He scribbled a few more lines onto the tattered pile of pages that lay on the edge of the table and rushed for the door. When he was able to squeeze a rational thought past the excitement, he stopped and picked up his satchel. There were some things he would need.
Chapter 23
Myranda dropped into the dark interior of the fort. When she conjured light enough to see, she found that it looked as different from the other forts inside as it did outside. The others had a wide open hall in the middle, with cells lining the walls. The cells were missing here. The whole of the floor was one enormous room, interrupted by the occasional wooden support. Each corner of the room was hidden behind a slatted wooden wall that didn't quite reach the ceiling.
Though there were no cells, the floor was far from unoccupied. Bea
sts, ranging from the size of a small horse to some that reached the ceiling, filled the floor. They were arranged in ranks, and all stood perfectly still. For a moment, Myranda thought they were statues, but if they were, the attention to detail was supernatural. Hair moved with the wind from outside, eyes gleamed in the light. As for their forms, they had a twisted familiarity to them: a massive black tiger-like creature, with horns like a bull and barbs sticking through its fur; an eagle with a downward pointing tail that tapered into that of a scorpion. Most looked as though the most awful parts of a dozen animals were assembled into a single body. Largest was a beast that resembled ten enormous snakes joined at the tails to a central body with a squid-like beak on both top and bottom.
Once it became clear that they were no immediate threat, Lain ignored the terrible wonders and disappeared down the stairs at the far end of the room. This place, it seemed, had at least two things in common with the other forts. It had the same roundabout stair system--and, judging from the chorus of creaks and echoes, it was at least as deep.
Myranda tried to follow, but something wasn't right. There was a powerful magic at work. Very powerful, like a constant pressure on her mind. The sheer intensity of the enchantment was almost disorienting. It must have been what Ether had felt, what had led her here. Perhaps Ivy had felt it, too. Myranda leaned heavily on her staff to gather herself. Her eyes turned to the ground.
Embedded in the floor in front of each of the beasts was a plaque. Engraved in each was a cold, analytical label for the associated creature. Augmented Plains Predator Revision II. Venomous Raptor Revision VI. Beneath each engraved label was another one, rougher, as though it had been scratched in afterward. Raid Stalker. Needlehawk. There was the air of a museum, that these were objects of pride. She turned to the door, recovered somewhat from the influence of the place, and followed the others.
#
Deep inside, many floors below, Ivy was rushing past shelves, stands, and figures she dare not look at. The terror was already burning at her mind. She had to find Ether and take her away from this place. That would prove to Lain that she could protect herself and help the team. That would let her stay. She sprinted down flight after flight of stairs to ever larger floors.
The Book of Deacon Anthology Page 74
