“You will not,” Loren insisted. “Annis found herself in this mess because of me. I shall take the risk.”
Jordel sighed. “If you insist. But still you must promise me: if you think you might be harmed, you will withdraw so that we may summon the others. Xain cannot stand against Vivien if I am at her side.”
“Very well,” said Loren. “Now stay back, and let me lure this bear from his cave.”
thirty-one
LOREN CREPT TOWARDS THE GREEN boat. Gem and Jordel watched from the alley’s mouth. Looking back over her shoulder, she saw their eyes glinting in torchlight and gave them a small smile of assurance, though she felt little for herself.
Loren only hoped this scheme would work. Nothing felt more important than saving Annis from Xain’s clutches, and as quickly as possible. The girl had suffered too much already, standing for a lifetime in her mother’s shadow. Now Loren had brought her to this. If anything should happen to her . . .
She pushed that thought aside, reached the dock, and slipped carefully downstairs towards the boat. She could not hear her footfalls for the gurgling river and creaking boat lines. Step by step, she slid along the wooden planks, searching for any sign of movement in the moonslight. She saw nothing and heard no sound.
Loren reached the dock’s edge, separated from the deck by one large step. Her foot grew leaden, and she paused. Loren imagined Annis captive within and with a long leap gained the deck.
The boat swayed ever so slightly beneath her. She froze. No sound left the cabin, and after a long moment she finally exhaled. The boat was like Brimlad’s, with one hatch leading into a cabin that stemmed from the main deck—but with small portholes hanging open. Loren guessed that Gem had seen the wizard through one. Mayhap it would be wise to look inside before trying to capture his attention.
Loren came forwards at a crouch until she stood directly beneath the porthole. She straightened slowly with her head tilted so only a single eye came into view. The cabin was dirty and unkempt. She supposed the boat had not been used in some time. Rubbish lay in the corners, and the walls were rotten. A single pallet of straw lay to one side, but its contents had been ripped out and spread across the room—probably by rats.
Annis lay on the pallet. Loren’s heart sped at the sight. But the girl could not see her. She had curled into a ball, her face against the wall. Where was the wizard? Had he stepped out since Gem left to fetch Loren?
It did not matter. With the room empty, she could save Annis. If she as quick, Loren would not need Gem or Jordel after all.
Like a ghost, she made for the hatch. An old wooden lever held it shut. The hinge was rusted. After a glance around the deck to ensure Xain was not lurking in some dark corner, she drew her dagger and smashed the hilt upon the hinge. It fell to the planks, and Loren opened the door to dash inside.
“Annis!” she hissed. “It is I! Quickly, we must—“
She jumped and cried out. The door slammed shut behind her.
Loren whirled to find Xain standing there, eyes glowing and flame dancing between his fingers.
“You forgot my walls of air, girl.”
She had forgotten, but all thoughts of magic vanished. The wizard looked far worse than when last she had seen him. Skin clung to bone, sticking out in jagged points. His shoulders were stooped and hunched, and his tattered coat hung from his frame in long loops. His teeth were frozen in a grimace of pain, and patches on his scalp barely held the remaining hair.
Loren saw this all in a moment, before Xain spoke.
“Why are you here? I told you if you followed me . . . I told you . . .”
He faltered, his arms folding in on themselves as the light died in his eyes. His flame guttered out, and the wizard collapsed against the inside of the hatch, moaning in agony.
Loren ran to Annis’s side, wrapped an arm about her shoulders, and pointed her dagger at Xain’s heart from across the room. “You will not harm her, wizard. Jordel told me the truth of what happened at the High King’s Seat. You are no murderer, and will not . . .”
Words died on Loren’s tongue, for the wizard paid them no mind. He merely kept rocking back and forth, hugging his arms about himself as he cried out again and again. From the sound, Loren would have imagined him pierced by arrows with hooks digging into his flesh. She shot another glance at Annis, but the girl only stared at the wizard in terror, her eyes bright in the glowing moonslight.
“Xain?” Loren wished her voice had not left her so softly. “What is wrong?”
“Wrong? Nothing. Why should anything be wrong? The world is ending, and the Mystics wish for me to fling myself into its death throes.”
“Do not excuse your actions by blaming them on others. Jordel did not set fire to Annis’s flesh.”
Xain looked up, and Loren saw tears in his eyes. “I am sorry. So very sorry. I never wanted to hurt her. I only wanted . . . I had to get away. From him. From the woman. They are mad, all of them, Loren. Mad.”
Loren thought of Jordel and Gem. Surely, they would have seen her enter the boat and would wonder what might have happened. It was only a matter of time before they followed. But she longed to hear what the wizard had to say.
“You promised to tell me of the Mystic’s words. Tell me now, if as you say they drove you to madness.”
“A war is coming,” Xain mumbled. “A war, a war.”
“The war is here. You fought in it yesterday. We all did, Xain, but that does not—“
“I do not speak of petty squabbles across the nine lands,” he spat. “A darkness. A great evil like nothing we have seen in our lives. They mean to use me as a weapon—all of us, all the wizards, all with the gift. We are to be their arsenal, to be flung into the maw of . . . of the . . .”
His limbs seized up again, and he moaned with whatever dark pain plagued him. Loren saw that two of his fingernails had fallen away, and as she watched another lock of hair drifted from his scalp.
“What has happened to you, Xain? Have you been stricken by plague?” Loren shuddered and covered her mouth with her sleeve.
Xain shook his head. “No. This is . . . this must be the Mystic woman at work. She must have done something to me upon the river. For I feel my mind slipping away. My body wilts like a flower in the dark.”
“How does she have such power? This is no mind magic.”
“She must. What else could it be? Some of them can do more than lift rocks with their thoughts. Legends of Wizard Kings told of those who could strip flesh from bones with their minds. If only I . . . if only I could . . .”
His eyes shifted, and he saw Annis by Loren’s side. He looked at the girl as if seeing her for the first time. His lips trembled, and tears slid down his cheeks to drip from his skeletal chin.
“I did not wish to hurt you,” he said softly. “I only need . . . I need to . . .”
“To escape,” Loren whispered.
She thought back to when she met Xain in the Birchwood. How her parents thought to use her as a game piece, to lure the eye of some old man who could buy a young bride. In escaping that fate, Loren had knocked Chet’s poor father unconscious—to say nothing of the arrow she planted in her father’s leg.
No one wanted to be used. No one wanted to live a life served up by others. And the desperation, the need to flee such a life, could drive one to acts they would never before have considered.
Did Loren’s actions in the Birchwood make her a villain? Doubtless they would, in some tales. But her life was not about stories and never had been. If she had lived like an old fable’s sweet maiden, she would have spent the rest of her days in her parents’ shadow, wed to a man who cared for nothing but her youth and the children she might bear him.
Even Mennet had once been a bandit. And Loren saw now that she could cast no shadow on the wizard without first allowing the light to burn her. Xain had helped her escape the Birchwood—a small slip of a girl with green eyes. She could do no less for him now, twisted wretch that he had become.
thirty-two
LOREN MOVED AWAY FROM ANNIS and stood tall, towering over Xain as he curled upon the floor. “If I help you leave Wellmont and escape Jordel forever, will you release Annis? If we give you your share of the magestones, will you leave us and never return?”
His eyes blazed with hunger as he nodded. “Yes. Yes, the magestones. With them I could . . . I could cast off the Mystic woman’s enchantment, perhaps. Mayhap it would strengthen the magic in me enough . . . yes. Pleassse.”
The word stretched out until he racked with a heavy cough. Xain drew his hand from his mouth, and Loren saw blood on his thumb.
“Loren . . .” said Annis.
“Shhh,” Loren said quietly. “It will be all right. We will return for Gem, and all will be as it should.”
Loren saw the brown cloth packet in her cloak pocket and pulled it out. She drew a magestone from within and brought it to Xain. The wizard snatched it from her grasp with clawed fingers and bit into it like a starving man into freshly baked bread. The stone vanished in an instant. Xain swallowed and sank back against the bulkhead with a sigh. His skin filled out, color returning. His breath came easier, and though his eyes glowed black, it soon died and they were bright with vigor. Even the hair on his head sprouted slowly back into a tangled and uneven mess.
“It worked,” said Loren.
“It did,” the wizard agreed, his voice smooth and powerful. It echoed off the cabin walls, and each word thrummed through her chest. “You may have saved my life, Loren of the family Nelda.”
“Do not act as though it were the first time.” Loren stuck out a hand.
Xain ignored it. Instead, with a wave of his fingers and a whisper, a gust of wind sprang from nowhere and lifted the wizard to his feet. “I will not, though there is little time to repay you. We must move quickly if we mean to escape.”
“Quicker than you know,” said Loren. “Gem and Jordel wait outside the boat even now, and I have been gone too long. We came to rescue Annis, and they will not allow your leave without trouble.”
“They cannot stop me. Not even with Jordel’s order at their backs.”
Loren blanched, but she straightened her shoulders and stared Xain in his eyes. “There is no need for your bluster. Can you open the city’s rivergate?”
“I can,” he nodded. “Iron cannot stand against my fire now. But were you not concerned that the Dorseans might gain entry with a breached wall?”
“Not on the upstream side. For Wellmont could move a boat outside, and the current will hold it fast against the breach. Good as the iron grating, and meanwhile we will have made our escape.”
“Very clever,” said Xain.
“I am not without my talents.” Loren gave a small bow. “But we must move. Ready yourself to sail this boat, the sooner the better.”
“Only say the word.”
Loren nodded and gave Annis a final reassuring look. The girl had not moved from the corner, and moonslight illuminated her trembling. Loren hoped to gain her understanding later.
The hatch creaked open, and she stepped into the moonslight. Not a moment too soon, for Loren saw Gem and Jordel just up the street. They froze as they caught sight of her, their faces masks of anxiety.
“Loren! What happened to you?” Gem called out. “Where is the wizard?”
She did not answer. Instead, Loren crossed to the boat’s railing, eyeing the Mystic with sorrow. Jordel would be angry at losing Xain, but if he was willing to accept her services, she would gladly give them to repay this debt.
Loren lifted her foot, set it on the line holding them to the dock, slipped a hand into her cloak, and called out into the night.
“Jordel, I am sorry. Find me beyond the city walls.”
The Mystic’s eyes widened with understanding, and he leapt towards Loren with an outstretched hand.
“Loren, wait!”
“Now, Xain!” Loren drew her dagger and cut the line with a rapid slash. A frothing gush of water slammed into the stern and hurled the boat forward. Loren barely held her footing as they cut through the water. Jordel’s angry cries died behind her as the vessel shot upstream. The wizard used water to move them, for the sails had long since rotted away.
Xain emerged from the cabin and stood beside Loren as the northern rivergate approached. “Do you think the Mystic will forgive you?”
Loren thought she heard mockery. “I do not know.” She shrugged. “I hope so, for I mean to help him fight whatever darkness is to come.”
Xain looked at Loren, surprised. “You do? Even after my warning?”
“Even then. You do not wish to fight, for you have a home and a child in waiting. I have nowhere to go and no one to expect me. Is there a better use for my time? I shall go until I learn the truth at least. Unless you care to share it with me now?”
Xain studied Loren’s face, and for a moment she thought he meant to speak. But he said nothing, his black eyes growing hooded as he turned. “’Tis not my place to say. At least not yet. I now know why Jordel would not tell you, or anyone. And though I gave you my word to reveal the secret, I must break that promise. Dark knowledge in the wrong hands may doom us all.”
“Very well. I will find out in my own time.”
“I do not doubt it. But now we are at the rivergate, and you would do well to stay inside. This will not be a safe place to stand.”
“Since when have I wished for safety?” Despite her words, Loren went to wrap her arms around the creaking mast. “Do your worst, wizard. I was too far from your fight upon the southern wall. I shall witness your power now.”
Xain nodded, and the black glow grew in his eyes as he whispered.
Fire bloomed—but not the ragged, wispy flames Loren had grown used to. This was a white-hot ball, like the one Xain had used to breach the hull of Vivien’s ship. It swelled in size, roiling and twisting in the air until Loren had to turn her gaze. The ball seemed brighter than the sun and nearly as hot. She feared it might set the boat ablaze.
Even with her eyes shut she could sense its light and feel its heat, so she knew the moment he flung it. Her eyes opened to see the fire speeding towards the rivergate. She braced herself, thinking there would be an explosion, some great impact to rattle the air and send the river water gushing up in a torrent. But there was nothing. The river gate offered no resistance—the ball of fire passed straight through, leaving a great gaping hole, its edges glowing red. The river erupted in a hissing roil of steam where the fireball kissed it, and that steam plumed towards the wall. Men cried out as the scalding steam seared them atop it, before running in both directions and shielding their faces with blistering hands.
“No archers will harry us, at least.” His words were nearly lost in the sound of water loudly slapping their boat.
They shot through Wellmont’s northern rivergate in confusion and darkness. Torches faded to pinpricks of light behind them. Xain turned back to look at them. On his face she saw a smile of triumph more frightening than the rictus mask from Vivien’s enchantment.
Loren shivered and turned her gaze away.
thirty-three
LOREN LEFT THE DECK AND entered the cabin. Annis still sat in the corner. She jerked in fright when Loren opened the hatch. She calmed upon seeing Loren but still seemed eager to flee.
“We are free of the city and will soon return for Gem. This will all be over shortly.”
“Will it?” said Annis. “Too much has happened.”
“Much of it has been Xain’s fault. I cannot ask you to forgive the wizard, but Vivien nearly drove him mad. You saw what she turned him into. I do not think he was in control of himself.”
“And if he loses control again? How can you be sure he . . .”
Annis looked over Loren’s shoulder.
She turned to find Xain standing behind her—a surprise; the wizard had no gift for stealth, and she would have expected to hear him.
“We shall gain the shore soon and strike north for the road.” Still, Xain’s voice rumbled deep, lingering in the air, strumming through Loren’s body as though she were a bowstring. “But there is something ahead I thought you should see.”
Loren looked to Annis. “You should come. The air in here is dank, and a breath of something fresher might do you well.”
Annis had dropped her eyes away from Xain and did not lift them. But she nodded and stood, coming to Loren’s side as they followed the wizard back out upon the deck.
The boat sat still and silent in the river. Xain no longer propelled it. Far ahead, Loren saw the glow of many lanterns and torches. They were spaced out in three lines, each separate from the others. The shapes of many men moved before them.
“The Dorsean blockade,” Loren said. “Three ships, same as we saw east of the city. We should put ashore here, out of their arrows’ range. It does not seem they have seen us.”
“We could do so,” said Xain. “But I had another idea. You hail from Selvan, do you not?”
“I do,” said Loren, brow furrowing.
“As do I.” She saw the flash of Xain’s teeth in the moonslight as he smiled. “And while our thoughts have been preoccupied with other things, still I am not blind to Wellmont’s suffering. What say we play our part to alleviate this siege?”
“I know nothing of this war, and it does not concern me,” said Loren. “I am no fighter.”
“Nor I. Yet I have my talents. Watch.”
Xain raised his hands, and his eyes turned black. In the night, they became pits where Loren could see nothing, lending his face a skull-like appearance. It reminded her of his madness, and she suppressed a shiver.
Her gaze was drawn to the Dorsean blockade against her will. She expected to see the ships burst into flame, white tongues lapping at the sails or mayhap for a great gale to descend from the sky and send them to kindling against the shore. But at first she saw nothing.
Mystic: A Book of Underrealm Page 21
