“Of course. Early in our lives, our bodies use some biological magic to develop into adulthood. Once we reach maturity, however, the magic shifts from growth to maintenance, keeping us at our strongest. We can stay that way forever, theoretically.”
“In that case, how old are you?”
Minawë glared at him. “Whether among humans, Maantecs, or Kodamas, moron, it’s rude to ask a woman her age.”
Iren flushed. He never did do well with social graces.
For several minutes neither spoke. As Iren watched the fire and considered all Minawë had told him, an image of Rondel’s decrepit form came unbidden to his mind. Hoping he’d waited long enough for the sting of Minawë’s rebuke to fade, he cautiously asked, “I once met a Maantec who looked ancient. How do you explain her?”
A foreboding expression grew on Minawë’s face. “That is the consequence of using biological magic. Understand that while your body can replace environmental magic easily, your biological magic is set at birth. Nothing can replace it. When you cast a spell, you use environmental magic first. Should you exhaust that supply, your biological magic can provide an emergency source of energy. Doing so gives you tremendous power. For example, Iren Saito used his to curse my race. But releasing your biological magic also ages you, hence why I said that we are ‘theoretically’ immortal. The number of years we have lived doesn’t determine how old we look; the amount of biological magic we still possess does. Thus, an aged person can look youthful if they have wisely conserved their biological magic. Conversely, a young person can appear old if they’ve foolishly squandered it. Someone like your Maantec must have used nearly all her biological magic to become as you describe.”
Iren wondered about Rondel. If Iren Saito’s biological magic had enough potency to curse an entire species, it terrified him to think what spell she’d cast to age her so much.
“I mentioned earlier that using spells can increase the amount of environmental magic available to you,” Minawë continued. “Using biological magic can counteract those gains. Our own magic attracts the world’s magic. The more biological magic you have, the more environmental magic you can store, and the faster you recover from casting spells. To keep on using your old Maantec as an example, with so little biological magic remaining, she likely can wield only small amounts of environmental magic. Furthermore, she would require days or maybe weeks to recover from using a larger spell. By contrast, despite casting that massive beam just this morning, you’ve restored your magical reserves.”
Iren stroked his chin. At first he’d doubted Minawë, but now he began to believe her. Her explanations revealed why Rondel relied on abilities like Lightning Sight that required little magic. They also accounted for why the lightning bolt she’d used against Zuberi had left her so drained. He picked up a pebble and tossed it into the fire, sending sparks hissing. She wouldn’t have needed to cast that spell if he’d been strong enough to defeat Zuberi on his own. “I as good as killed her,” he whispered. “Rondel.”
Minawë’s ears perked up. “Rondel? You know Rondel?” Her tone changed completely. She chirped like a small child.
Iren looked at his boots as he responded, “We traveled together for a while, before she . . .” he trailed off, unable to continue. Then his head snapped up. “Wait, how do you know Rondel?”
The Kodama leapt to her feet. “She’s only one of the most famous Maantecs in history! I grew up hearing stories about her.”
Iren was pretty sure he’d never heard any stories about Rondel as a child. Granted, no one ever told him any stories as a child, but he still doubted they existed.
Minawë must have seen the doubt on his face, because she said, “Humans probably don’t know about her, but among my people, Rondel’s considered a hero.”
“A hero? I thought you hated Maantecs because of the Kodama-Maantec War.”
“That’s why she’s a hero! You traveled with her, and you still don’t know?”
Iren just furrowed his brow. “Know what?”
“You moron, Rondel’s the most famous traitor in Raa’s history! We won the Kodama-Maantec War because of her! A thousand years ago, thanks to her defection, we all but wiped out the Maantecs.”
He couldn’t believe his ears. Iren knew Rondel looked ancient, but he never would have guessed that she was a thousand years old. More disturbingly, she’d betrayed her own people, sentencing them to near extinction.
Iren shook his head, trying to clear his confusion by force. He’d thought he’d come to understand the old woman, at least a little bit. As Minawë spoke, however, he realized the truth. He didn’t know a thing about Rondel.
What else about her had he gotten wrong?
He started to ask Minawë, since she apparently knew a lot more about the cryptic Maantec than he did. Before a word could exit him, however, she leapt across the space between them and clamped a hand over his mouth. Her eyes narrowed dangerously, and she whispered, “We have to go. I tied your horse up over there.” She pointed, and he dimly made out Nightraid’s muscular black form through the shadows.
Iren tensed. The Kodama’s demeanor had shifted again. “What’s going on?” he asked when she lowered her hand.
She shot him an angry look, then jerked her head upward and whispered, “The owls.”
He looked into the canopy, listening hard. “I don’t hear anything.”
To his surprise, she nodded. “Exactly.”
They’d just reached Nightraid when the first arrows started falling among them. From deeper within Akaku, shrill, maniacal cackling filled the air alongside the projectile rain. As he climbed into the saddle, Iren could see sulfurous eyes filling the trees.
Through the thick forest they raced, arrows coming from every direction. No matter how fast Nightraid galloped, they couldn’t escape. The insane laughter grew constantly louder, until even the crashing of the stallion’s hooves became all but lost in the din.
Minawë pointed up as an arrow whistled past. “They’re in the trees, jumping from limb to limb!”
Iren took her word for it. He was too busy trying to keep Nightraid from panicking. Still, he remembered the Yokai in the cave and how they could jump extraordinarily high. Their short, reverse-jointed legs made them poor runners but, combined with their light frames, made them excellent leapers. That gave him an idea.
Pulling on the reins, he turned the horse hard to the left. The sudden change forced Nightraid to a momentary stop, and Iren felt a sharp pain in his right shoulder as an arrow grazed him. Then they flew again, heading off in a completely different direction.
“Where on Raa are you going?” Minawë cried. “Ziorsecth is west!”
Iren ignored her. He didn’t know how far Ziorsecth was, but he doubted they could reach it without Nightraid resting. As long as they stayed in Akaku, the Yokai could keep pace with them, leaping from branch to branch with ease.
How long they galloped through the forest with death raining all about them, Iren didn’t know. He’d long since lost track of time. More than a few well-placed shots gave both him and Minawë minor wounds, but fortunately Nightraid remained uninjured. With each impact, Iren missed the Muryozaki more. He hadn’t realized how much he’d come to appreciate its healing power.
At last he saw his destination. In the distance, the trees thinned, and moonlight filtered through the branches. With a final burst of speed, they shot through the tree line and onto the open fields of Lodia.
He continued riding south hard for nearly ten minutes, not daring to glance back. The arrows quickly died away, and at last he chanced a look. The Yokai hadn’t pursued him beyond the forest. Here in the open, they couldn’t keep pace with the mighty warhorse. He stroked the stallion’s neck in sincere gratitude, and Nightraid responded with a triumphant neigh.
Whooping as much from pent-up adrenaline as from happiness at their escape, he turned in the saddle to face Minawë. “How was that?” he exclaimed.
The green-haired woman made no answer. �
��Minawë?” Iren shook her lightly, but she didn’t respond. He shook her harder. “Minawë!”
Her eyes were blank, her lips silent. As he released her, she lost her balance in the saddle, falling gracelessly from the horse and hitting the ground hard.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
What Comes of Revenge
At twilight two days after escaping the Yokai, Iren sat on a moss-covered boulder in a small glade in northern Lodia, cold rain drenching him. Several yards away, tucked under an outcropping of rock barely large enough for one person, lay Minawë, still unconscious. She hadn’t awoken since leaving Akaku.
At least she was still alive. From the moment they’d escaped the Yokai, Iren had pushed Nightraid almost constantly, pausing only to let the horse rest and to catch a few brief naps. Most of his sleeping he did in the saddle, though. He didn’t really understand the situation, but he knew Minawë’s survival depended on him getting her to Ziorsecth as quickly as possible.
Now, while it infuriated him, he once more had to stop and recover. Not that he could get any real rest, thanks to the rain. Even with his cloak wrapped tightly around him, he couldn’t get comfortable enough to fall asleep. Instead, he munched distractedly on some salted meat he’d found in Nightraid’s saddlebags. Nearby, the majestic stallion stood tied to a tree, snorting miserably.
When Iren finished his snack, he pulled out the small ocean rock from his pants pocket and cupped it in one hand, taking comfort in its smooth surface. He thought of the crashing waves of the sea, miles and miles away. Part of him wished he was back there. Life at the castle had been so easy. Sure, everyone despised him, but he’d come to terms with that. He didn’t care that they stared emptily past him and called him horrible names. At least there, he’d never been in any real danger.
It had all sounded straightforward in the beginning. He would travel to Veliaf, kill the Quodivar leader, and avenge his parents. He’d done all that. He’d gotten his revenge. At least it appeared that way, but ever since that day at the fort, he couldn’t get Zuberi’s words out of his head. The Quodivar leader claimed he’d been a Tacumsah pirate seventeen years ago, far away from Lodia. At the time, Iren had convinced himself the giant was lying, but he didn’t feel so certain anymore.
“Can’t you sleep?”
Iren turned his head and saw Minawë inclined on her elbow, watching him. Her voice sounded gentle and full of concern.
“It isn’t exactly a comfortable inn.” He pointed with his thumb toward the treetops. “And the roof leaks.”
Her expression didn’t waver. “Somehow, I think it’s more than the weather.”
He sighed. It couldn’t hurt to tell her, so he opened his heart, speaking first of his upbringing in Haldessa. He explained how the people there hated and feared him, even though they didn’t know anything about him. He told her of Amroth and what he’d said about Iren’s parents. He gave her all the details of the mission he’d been on, and how even though he’d gotten his revenge, he didn’t feel satisfied. All the while she listened attentively, only interjecting briefly to ask an occasional question.
When he finished, Iren leaned back and, for the first time that he could recall, felt truly relaxed. He’d never talked to anyone like that before. Even though he knew it must bore her horribly to hear his life story, she never showed it.
As he thought about his words, however, he suddenly flushed, embarrassed. He shouldn’t have said so much. This woman was a Kodama. She didn’t care about him.
Seeking a distraction, he rose and walked over to Nightraid, who gave an annoyed whinny at the downpour. The horse swung his head back and forth, and despite numerous attempts, Iren couldn’t calm the stallion. Finally, he said softly, “Kuylet, trempiot.” The horse settled, and Minawë raised her green eyebrows.
“You know Kodaman?” she asked.
Iren turned around. “Is that what it is? Rondel taught it to me, sort of.”
“It means ‘Horse, be at peace.’ Kodamas have a strong connection with animals. All of them know our tongue. Of course they can’t speak it, but they’ll understand what you say.”
Iren stroked Nightraid’s mane. It made sense that Rondel would know Kodaman, since she’d betrayed the Maantecs to them.
“Tell me,” Minawë said, an edge creeping into her otherwise kind voice, “How did you feel when you killed Zuberi? Did it make you happy?”
His hand stopped midway down Nightraid’s neck. The horse nudged him with his muzzle, but he ignored the touch. “No, I guess not. I thought it would. Zuberi butchered many people to gain riches, and many more suffered because of the Quodivar he commanded. I’m sure that killing him made Lodia safer, but it’s only left me confused. I don’t even know if he murdered my parents.”
“That’s what comes of revenge.” Minawë’s voice no longer sounded gentle. It was cold.
Her change of tone shocked him. “What do you mean?”
“When I was a child, Mother told me that seeking revenge can’t make you happy. If you fail, you’ll either die or suffer for the rest of your life. If you succeed, you’ll be left with nothing, a void in your soul that you can’t fill.”
Iren looked up through the trees to the gray clouds beyond, letting the rain pelt his face. As he stared upward, Minawë rose unsteadily and walked over to him, leaning against Nightraid’s flank for support. Almost absentmindedly, she reached into one of the stallion’s saddlebags and pulled out a handful of dried apple slices. As she ate the first one, she said, “You know, for a Maantec, you’re kind of weird.”
Iren blinked twice. “What?”
“During the Kodama-Maantec War, your ancestors tried to conquer Raa. They considered everyone else beneath them, and they didn’t care what anyone thought. You’re different, though it took me a while to notice it. When you killed Zuberi, you looked just like the Maantecs from the war: arrogant and destructive. I hated you for it.”
“Why did you bring me along, then?” he replied, a touch of resentment in his voice. “That fight knocked me out. You could easily have dumped me in Akaku somewhere and taken off on your own.”
“True, but as you saw when we left Akaku, I can’t travel outside the forest on my own.”
Iren remembered how suddenly Minawë had passed out. “What happened to you that night?”
She grimaced. “Do you know why Iren Saito’s curse kills Kodamas who leave Ziorsecth? It mutated our bodies. I mentioned back in Akaku that our bodies have a semipermeable membrane that allows us to absorb magic. Saito’s curse made Kodamas’ membranes fully permeable, meaning magic can both enter and leave.”
“What does that have to do with losing consciousness when we left Akaku?”
“Every species draws environmental magic from a different source. Maantecs pull from the air. Kodamas draw from other living things, plants in particular. In Akaku, surrounded by ancient spruces, my rate of magic coming in nearly equaled my rate of loss, but Lodia’s open fields only have grasses. My body couldn’t absorb enough magic, so it made me pass out in a desperate attempt to save energy. It happened when I first left Ziorsecth too. That’s how the Quodivar captured me, and that’s also why I needed your help. Akaku and Ziorsecth don’t share a border. Even if I could have evaded the Yokai and ridden all the way to Akaku’s western edge, I still would have faced a stretch of plains. I hated you, but you were my best hope for getting back to Ziorsecth alive.”
Iren pouted. “I’m glad I’m so useful,” he said, “even though I’m a moron.”
Minawë winced. “Sorry about that. I misjudged you in Akaku. Now I see you differently. You care what others think of you. That’s not a common Maantec trait.”
He crossed his arms. “I don’t care. What does it matter if they all hate me? What difference does it make if I live alone the rest of my life? As long as I get my revenge, that’s what I care about. If Zuberi didn’t murder my parents, then I’ll find the true culprit and kill him. It’s what I’m meant to do.”
“You’re lying.
At least, if the story you told me about your past just now is true. Granted, you sought revenge. But you also agreed to bring me to Ziorsecth, and you did that before you saw Zuberi. If he hadn’t appeared, you might never have gotten your chance to face him. You willingly gave up on revenge to get me to Ziorsecth. Even after I acted rudely, you still aided me. You said that I could have abandoned you in the woods if I’d wanted to. Well, you could have done the same to me when I lost consciousness outside Akaku. You could have left me and gone hunting for your parents’ murderer. No one ever would have known. Instead, you rode all the way here, keeping me safe. You also fought to protect Dirio, Veliaf, and all of Lodia from the Quodivar. When Balear nearly died in the Yokai’s ambush, you risked your life to save him. If you truly only care about your revenge, why did you do all those things?”
Iren stared intently at a thoroughly uninteresting fern. Minawë reached out and took his chin in her hands, forcing him to look in her deep green eyes. She held him there a moment before speaking, her voice soft yet full of conviction, “You believe you’re an avenger, but I can tell you’re nothing of the sort. Your heart doesn’t seek vengeance; it seeks to protect others and fights only when it has no other choice.”
Iren felt wetness on his cheeks. At first he blamed the rain, but no, he was crying. “I’ve been such a child,” he whispered. Then, biting his lip, he said, “Minawë, thank you.”
The Kodama smiled, and then to Iren’s amazement, she leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. He raised his hand to his face, touching the spot with disbelief.
“Of course,” she replied. “Let’s get some sleep. You can take the dry spot under the rock; I don’t mind the rain. Then tomorrow, we’ll set out for Zior—”
She never finished what she was going to say, because at that moment, she passed out and fell headfirst into the mud. Iren cried out and bent over, pulling her up. He saw her hair. He hadn’t noticed it while they were talking, but nearly a quarter of it had turned bone white. More disconcerting, shallow wrinkles crisscrossed the young woman’s face. Already she looked fifteen years older than when they’d first spoken in Akaku.
The Wings of Dragons: Book One of the Dragoon Saga Page 14
