by R. T. Kaelin
“Would you believe that I’m not a threat to you?”
The Gray Cloak shook his head once.
“Not for a moment.”
“I'm actually here to help."
“Help?” chuckled the man. “Help with what?”
“When the Sudashians get here, you will need—”
“The Sudashians!?” repeated the Gray Cloak. An abrupt bark of a laugh escaped from him. “Don’t tell me you’ve bought some rumormonger’s babbling?”
“They aren’t rumors.”
“Duke Rholeb would like you, girl. He’s been insisting for weeks that Sudash filth is coming.”
“He’s right,” said Kenders somberly.
“And how would you know?”
Kenders opened her mouth to answer but shut it a moment later. Even if she could tell him the truth, she doubted he would believe her.
The Gray Cloak’s gaze broke from her, briefly shifting to focus on something behind her. Looking over her shoulder, Kenders spotted three Reed Men but a hundred feet away, creeping toward her along the empty street, swords drawn. Without hesitation, she reached for some Strands of Fire, wove a simple but large orange pattern, and stretched it across the street, halfway between her and the soldiers. A wall of fire leapt from the flagstones and stretched high into the air, the tips of the sudden flames reaching the pinnacle of the stockades’ fence. A blast of hot air flew past her, whipping her hair and ruffling her dress. The Reed Men not only stopped their advance, but also scrambled back several dozen paces, their eyes wide.
Turning on her heel, she faced the Gray Cloak. He was staring at the wall of flames, his mouth hanging open.
“Please,” said Kenders. “All I want to do is leave.”
The Gray Cloak continued gaping at the fire for a few moments before shifting his gaze back to her. There was a strange twinkle in his eyes.
“Perhaps you and I could come to an understanding?”
Hoping that he might be considering letting her go, she said, “Explain.”
Taking a few, halting steps closer, he said, “The Constables are always looking for upstanding citizens capable of helping us in our duties. You have more control than most lawbreakers I find. Tell me, my dear, do you like the color gray?”
Kenders could not believe what she was hearing.
“You want me to join the Constables?”
The man’s gaze ran over her travel-worn clothes, mussed hair, and dirt-streaked face.
“You never need worry about food again. Or a place to sleep.”
“You must be jesting.”
“Now, for bringing someone as talented as you into the fold, I would get a hefty reward. Perhaps I could even share a portion with you? How does ten gold ducats sound?”
Kenders glared at the man. This was preposterous.
“You’re mad.”
Frowning, the man said, “Fine. Twenty. But not a single—”
“No!” shouted Kenders. “Bless the Gods! I’m not negotiating with you, you fool! Don’t you understand? There is an army of oligurts, razorfiends, mongrels, and demon-men marching on Demetus!”
A dark, angry shadow crossed the Gray Cloak’s face as he hissed, “I won’t make the offer again.”
“Good! That way I won't waste breath refusing it again!”
A sneer darted across his lips.
“So you'd rather sit in a cell for the rest of your life?”
Glaring at the man, Kenders asked, “And will you be the one putting me there? Because I would very much like to see you try.”
The man’s gaze flicked to the fire still roaring behind her, his eyes showing evident concern. She could almost hear him thinking. Hoping to make his answer easy, Kenders—on feel alone—reached behind her and twisted the Weave within the fire. The flames roared even higher, sending enough heat outward that it was almost too warm for Kenders to remain where she was. Nevertheless, she held her ground. The Gray Cloak did not. His eyes widened as he took three quick steps backward.
After a moment, she reverted the Weave back to its original pattern. She did not want to set Demetus aflame.
The Constable looked back to her, threw back his shoulders, and announced, “Your talents are great, girl. But mine are greater.” Less than two dozen paces separated them and he began to close the distance, taking slow, measured steps. “Don’t be foolish! I have the authority to kill you if I deem necessary.”
Kenders shook her head in disbelief.
“And you’d do that?”
“Of course,” said the Gray Cloak. “Mages must be dealt with.”
“You’re a blasted mage!”
“I’m a Gray Cloak. There is a difference.”
“No there’s not!”
The Constable shrugged his shoulders.
“According to the law, there is.”
Kenders had never been more disgusted than she was right now. This man, a mage himself, willingly oppressed others just like him and saw nothing wrong with it. The hypocrisy incensed her. A hot, bubbling fury ignited deep within her soul and quickly boiled over.
“Blast the law!”
Without thought or hesitation, she reached for a number of Water, Air, and Soul Strands and quickly arranged the rippling blue, white, and silver strings. The Gray Cloak’s eyes went wide.
She directed the completed Weave toward two horse troughs beside the stockades office. The water within poured over the sides, splashing to the ground and rushing toward the Gray Cloak, rising from the flagstone, taking shape as it moved. Within two quick breaths, a fifteen-foot tall water fibríaal, frothy and dirty, was sloshing across the flagstone. When the creature was nearly on top of the man, Kenders spoke a single word.
“Hold.”
The fibríaal halted mere paces from the Gray Cloak, the water within swirling and twisting. Any spare drop that fell to the ground rolled back into the creature’s base. While the Gray Cloak gaped at the fibríaal, Kenders reached for Strands of Life, knitted a dozen Weaves one after another, tossing each at the wooden poles that made up the stockades’ fence. Despite having been hewn years ago, the dead and dry pine trunks swelled, and began to sprout new branches. The newly alive trees groaned and creaked, swiftly growing upward and outward, straining against one another as green needles sprang from fresh boughs.
Reaching for Charge and Air next, Kenders wrangled sizzling yellow and airy white together into a large pattern and directed the completed Weave to the empty street, halfway between the Gray Cloak and the long line of Reed Men far to the north. A brilliant flash and a bone-rattling boom filled the abandoned way. Kenders winced against the light and sound. She had not thought that demonstration through.
She shook her head, blinking, as the thunder rumbled through Demetus, echoing about the surrounding hills.
Her eyes adjusted quickly and she peered back to the Gray Cloak. The man was bent over, his hands pressed to his ears. Taking a chance, Kenders willed a small port into existence, wanting one side right before her, the other, immediately behind the Gray Cloak. The black and white Weave popped into being, bringing with it a manageable wave of fatigue. The sound of fabric being rend in two was muted as her ears were still suffering from the thunder’s thud. Reaching out, she grabbed a curtain of reality—a tingling sensation ran up her arm—flipped it aside, and stepped through.
She stood behind the Gray Cloak, silent, and watched the man lift his head to stare where she had been a moment ago. His head twisted side to side as he searched the street for her. She savored the man’s confusion for a moment before reaching out and tapping him on the shoulder.
He spun around and stared at her, abject fear and wonder filling his face. Backpedaling away, he tripped over his draping cloak and fell hard to the flagstone.
Content that she had made her point, Kenders released every Weave.
With two soft pops, both sides of the port disappeared. The wall of fire winked out, leaving a black, charred line spanning the street. The water fibríaal fell apa
rt and dropped to the ground, lightly splashing her but soaking the Gray Cloak. The pine trunks stopped creaking as their unnatural growth spurt halted. Kenders glanced up at the new trees and decided they were a much-needed improvement to the dirty city.
As she lowered her gaze from the treetops, she spotted Jezra and Jerem on the street, standing a couple paces from the stockades’ office, staring at her with equal parts awe and fear. Jezra stood behind Jerem, her arms draped protectively around his shoulders. At least they were not running away. Yet.
Turning her attention to the Gray Cloak sitting a large puddle of water, she said, “Now, I am going to leave and you will sit there until I am gone. No, you’ll sit there until the sun sets. Do you understand?”
The man’s head bobbed up and down quickly and in perfect silence.
“Good,” said Kenders. She gave him a grim, tight-lipped smile. “Farewell, Constable. Good memories behind.”
She swept past the Gray Cloak, stepped around the trough water puddle, and marched to Jerem and Jezra, hoping they would not turn and run from her. They did not.
She stopped before the pair and crouched down, placing one knee on stone. Giving them as gentle a smile as she could, she said, “I am sorry if I scared you.”
Neither child moved.
Kenders asked, “Would you like to go see your family?”
When there was still no movement from either, Kenders sighed and said, “Please. I truly am a friend of Zecus. And your mother and sister are nearby.” She held out her right hand. “I can take you to them if you would like.” She glanced to the alleyway where she had left Tiliah and Debrah, hoping the pair was still close.
Jerem began to reach out, but Jezra grabbed his arm, and pulled it back.
Dropping her hand to her side, Kenders peered at the sister.
“I am truly sorry if I scared you.”
The girl showed no response.
Jerem muttered, “Jezzy, you’re hurting my arm.” His plea did not loosen her grip.
Kenders had gone too far. While she had succeeded in intimidating the Gray Cloak, she had also petrified Zecus’ sister. She might need to bring Tiliah to them rather than the other way around. Nodding toward the alley, she said, “I’m going to go get your sister. I want you both to stay here while I do that. Will you do that for me?”
Jerem nodded immediately, but before Jezra could give her answer, a strident hawk’s cry pierced the unnatural tranquility of the city street.
Confused, Kenders tilted her head back and stared into the sky, shielding her eyes from the bright sun. Two weeks in the Marshlands and she had yet to see a hawk. Nevertheless, swooping down from the northern sky was a massive one, its wingspan fifty feet from tip to tip. Enormous black talons hung beneath its dirty-white breast. Golden-brown feathers covered the rest of the bird, head to tail.
A happy, joyous relief surged in her chest and a quick smile spread over her lips.
“Thank the Gods.”
However, as the hawk circled lower, its destination evidently the street, her grin quickly faded. Her relief fled and was replaced with a worried, tight sensation gripping heart and stomach. She felt as if her mother had just caught her sneaking twenty grape tarts.
With a great flapping of wings, the hawk landed two dozen paces from Kenders, directly between her and the Gray Cloak. The colossal bird regarded her silently, its deep brown eyes locked on her alone.
Kenders forced a smile and said, “Good days ahead, Broedi.”
The bird’s gaze shifted to Jerem and Jezra briefly before it swiveled its head to regard the Gray Cloak. A moment later, she felt a crackling surge of green, gold, and silver. The hawk’s shape began to change, prompting surprised gasps from both Alsher children.
The yellow, hooked beak retreated inward, melting into the bird’s face. Both wings bent at the midpoint, becoming elbows to a pair of thick, muscular arms. The feathers disappeared, replaced with smooth, tan skin. Its talons morphed into booted feet.
Once Broedi completed his shift, he stood tall, glanced at the Gray Cloak once again—the man looked as if he might become ill—and then approached where Kenders was kneeling before Jerem and Jezra. Stopping beside the trio, he crossed his arms and stared down at her.
“Why am I not surprised to find you here?”
Kenders held the hillman’s stoic glare and did not flinch.
“Go ahead. Yell at me if you like.”
The hillman shook his head.
“There will be no yelling. You are safe and unharmed. That is all that is important.”
Kenders blinked in quiet surprise, taken aback.
“Truly? After all this? Hells, Broedi, even I know this was a mistake. A very large mistake.”
A slight smile graced Broedi’s lips as he glanced at the fence of pine trees, the smoking flagstone, and the puddle of water.
“A mistake, yes. But not as large as you might think.”
Kenders stared at the hillman in silence for a moment or two. Her public display of magic would have only been more public if she had stood in the Grand Square in Freehaven during a Year’s End festival.
“I’m very confused right now.”
“And I will leave you as such for the time being. Consider it your punishment for forgetting that you have responsibilities to people other than yourself and those close to you.”
She winced, but kept quiet. She deserved that.
Broedi turned his gaze to Jerem and Jezra, smiled at the pair, and rumbled, “My pleasure is to meet you in peace today, uori and uora. I am Broedi.”
The Alsher children, their heads tilted upward, stared at the giant for a few heartbeats before Jerem replied, his voice small and quiet.
“And may peace bless our parting, great hawk-man.”
Broedi’s normally small smile widened a fraction. “No titles, please. Just Broedi.” Glancing back to Kenders, he added, “It is good you found them. Zecus will be relieved.”
Rising from the ground, Kenders asked, “You’ve seen Zecus?”
“I found him and Boah some time ago. It is you whom I have been searching for most of the afternoon.”
Jezra asked, “Zecus is here?” For the first time, Kenders heard true hope in her voice. “He is truly here?”
Looking back down, Broedi rumbled, “Yes, uora. He is sitting at the Duke’s Hall now, waiting for me to return.” He shifted his gaze to Kenders. “Along with your kaveli.”
“Hold a moment,” said Kenders, shaking her head. “Jak and Nikalys are here, too?”
“They are.”
“And…they’re at…they’re at the Duke’s Hall?”
Her confusion was deepening by the moment.
“They wanted to search for you, but—”
A shout cut off Broedi as a familiar voice echoed along the empty street.
“I found them!”
Looking across the way, Kenders saw Tobias by the alleyway, pushing past a group of Constables while smacking them with his walking stick. Two Reed Men appeared to be assisting him in pushing the Constables to the side, causing Kenders further bewilderment. Tiliah and Debrah followed the tomble, leading the horses behind them. Another figure in a green tunic walked with them, carrying a thick-handled longspear. His elongated limbs, darker complexion and hair, and the graceful manner in which he moved marked him a tijul.
Without taking her gaze from the stranger, Kenders asked, “Is that Wren Aembyr?”
“It is,” rumbled Broedi.
Jerem and Jezra turned to face the commotion and immediately sprinted down the street toward their mother, shouting for joy. Tiliah and Debrah dropped to their knees and embraced the pair, smiles filling their faces.
Despite the happy moment, Kenders frowned. An impossibly dark sadness awaited three of them. Feeling Broedi’s gaze upon her, she looked up. With sympathy in his eyes, he extended an arm and gently squeezed her shoulder in silence. Kenders was grateful both for the gesture and that he remained quiet.
After a
moment, she asked, “So Nikalys is safe, then?”
Broedi dropped his hand and nodded.
“He is well.”
“And Jak?”
“The same,” rumbled the hillman. A slight smile touched his lips. “Mostly.”
Kenders was about to ask what he meant by that, but stopped as Tobias hobbled up, Wren and Alsher family in tow. Meeting the tomble’s expectant stare, she said, “I can explain.”
Tobias leaned on his walking stick, tilted his head to the side, and said to no one in particular, “Try not to do anything rash while I’m gone. And whatever you do, don’t go into the city.” He made a face as if trying to recall something. “Yes…I am quite sure those were my exact words this morning.”
“I’m sorry,” said Kenders. She glanced at Jerem and Jezra. “But when I heard they were in the stockades…” She trailed off, paused a moment, and said, “Actually, I’m not sorry. I’m glad I did what I did.”
The White Lion regarded her with a tiny frown before looking at the wet flagstone and the line charred street.
“You certainly put on a display, didn’t you? Let’s see…I felt Void, Air, and Soul. And from the looks of things, you used Water and Fire as well.”
“And Life,” mumbled Wren, nodding at the new pine trees lining the street. “Unless Marshlanders grow their fences.”
“Did you use every type of Strand?” asked Tobias. “Seems a bit much.”
Unable to take it any longer, Kenders looked between Broedi and Tobias, asking, “Why aren’t either of you upset?” She fixed her gaze on Broedi alone. “And why did you change in the middle of the street?” She waved a hand at the dozen or so alleyways up and down the street, now lined with citizens pushing forward and staring. “Everyone saw you. And what about him?” She whirled around and pointed at the man still lying in the puddle of water. “He’s a Gray Cloak!”
Broedi shrugged his shoulders.
“It does not matter.”
“It doesn’t matter?” repeated Kenders. “Unless you plan on silencing him somehow—” fear flashed over the Gray Cloak’s face “—the Constables will know all about you now!”
