FIERCE: Sixteen Authors of Fantasy

by Mercedes Lackey

  Looking back I saw a second man, and I recognized him; it was Marcus. He was trying to drag the other boy out of the river and back up the embankment, although he wasn’t having much success. The mud was steep and crumbling. It would be impossible for him to carry the other person back up it. Instead he was trying to get under the stranger and push him up and over the edge where it had crumbled away. It was obvious that he would never be able to get him up high enough, so I decided to help him. Walking up the rise I got close to the edge and looked over at him struggling with the young man’s limp body. He pushed him up again, and since my hands seemed to be useless, I stretched my head down and grabbed the teen by the collar, using my teeth. Had my neck always been this long? Pulling back, I got him awkwardly onto the grass and dragged him until I was sure the ground was firm.

  By now Marc had gotten himself up as well, and he was shouting something at me. Looking at him, I realized the colors were strange. It was definitely my friend, but he looked different to me. Glancing down I stared at the unconscious stranger. There was something familiar about his face. He had long gangly arms and legs, and his head was covered with thick black hair. At last it hit me, and a cold shock ran through me as I recognized myself lying there upon the ground. With that realization, I experienced a surging sensation and felt myself rushing toward my empty body. Then there was only darkness.

  Sunlight filtered in through my closed eyelids, which made me wonder how I could have slept so late. Normally my mother would have wakened me with the dawn to start my daily chores. The bed was comfortable however, so I decided to sleep a little longer and see how long I could manage before she came to rouse me. Then I felt warm breath on my face and heard a snort, as if one of my father’s horses had somehow gotten into my room, but that couldn’t be… could it? I cracked one eye and was startled to see Star looming over me, with Marc sitting on the other side of me.

  “Thank the gods you’ve woken,” he said. “I had begun to think you were going to pass over to the other side.” His face held a slight smile, though I could see tension written in his expression.

  “Why am I lying on the ground?” Even as I said this, I realized it was true. I was lying on the damp grass, not far from the river. I started to sit up and everything began to twist and turn around me as waves of dizziness washed over me. I have a stubborn streak though, so I sat up anyway and stayed that way till the world quit whirling about.

  “I was hoping you could tell me that,” he replied. “For some reason, you felt you could drag an entire horse out of the river by yourself. Even worse, when you got to the edge of the water, you promptly passed out. You nearly drowned.”

  “How did Star get out?” I had a strong suspicion that I knew exactly how she’d escaped the river, but I still couldn’t believe it.

  “The best I can tell, she’s been possessed by a water spirit.” Marc stared pointedly at me as he said that, and I knew him well enough to tell he had a different opinion. “Right after you passed out, she walked up and out of the water, walking over the top of it, as if it were solid ground, for about thirty yards before she made her way to the bank,” he paused then, as if to see what I might say, but I held my tongue. “Then she made her way back here and proceeded to drag you up and over the edge of the embankment with her teeth. All in all, I’d say her behavior was rather unhorse-like.”

  I looked down, unsure what to say, “Well…”

  “You might as well tell me, I’ve already seen several unbelievable things today, I’m not likely to call you a liar at this point.” Marc and I had been friends since we were small children, so trust wasn’t an issue; it was simply that I couldn’t understand what had occurred either. I gave up attempting to understand, and just described my experience as best I could. It took a while, but Marc was a good listener. After a while I ran out of words and just sat there, looking at Star grazing nearby.

  Marc looked pensive. He had a brilliant mind, when he chose to employ it, and I could see the gears turning as I watched. Finally he spoke, “Let’s lay it out in plain view. You sent your spirit into the horse and took control of her body. Then you used some sort of magic to allow Star to walk on top of the water…”

  “Now hold up,” I interrupted, “I didn’t use any magic, nor would I know how to!”

  “What else would you call it, Mort?” He stared at me. His gaze was direct and unwavering.

  “Ok, well obviously something amazing happened, but that doesn’t mean that I was the cause, source or principle agent behind the...” I had lapsed into our most familiar form of speech, the type we used when discussing matters of science or philosophy. He wasn’t buying into my circumlocutions though.

  “Bullshit,” he interrupted.

  “What?”

  “You heard me, bullshit. Don’t try to talk your way around it. You’re not talking to your parents, or any of the dullards we know, so don’t try to feed me a bunch of crap. You need to own up to it and face what happened head on. You did it. You did something miraculous, and that makes you either a saint or a wizard. Given your general lack of piety, I’m leaning toward the latter.”

  “You’re crazy,” I replied intelligently, “I don’t know the first thing about magic.”

  Marc smiled, “I don’t either, but I do know one thing.”

  “Such as?”

  “Wizards are born not taught, so lack of knowledge is no defense.” Deep down I suspected he might be right. We were both full of questions, but the experience with the river had left us cold, wet and tired. We agreed to keep the details of what had happened secret, at least until we could figure things out.

  “Come to the keep tomorrow, and we’ll go through Father’s library,” he said. Marcus’ father was the Duke of Lancaster, a fact I frequently tried to forget.

  “I can’t, I’m supposed to help Dad with a load of pig-iron tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow evening then. In fact, tell your parents you’ll be staying with me for a few days,” he replied.

  “I can’t do that, what will they think?”

  “They’ll think it’s wonderful that their son is hobnobbing with the nobility.” Marcus never held his higher social station against me, but he had no qualms about making full use of its advantages either. “Listen, I’ll send a runner over this evening with a fancy invitation. Your father will be so impressed he won’t even consider refusing.” Marcus grinned at me with his usual irrepressible smile.

  “I think your plan leaves a bit to be desired,” I replied. “Don’t you need some sort of excuse or reason for the invitation?” My parents knew about our odd friendship, as it had never been a secret. Marcus and I had met when we were boys, playing in the courtyard of the Duke’s keep during one of my father’s delivery trips. We hit it off immediately, although I’ve never been sure why. I suspect it was because he was the first child my own age with enough imagination and wit to keep up with my elaborate games of pretend. Soon after that, my parents began getting ‘requests’ from the Duchess for my presence to help entertain her son. The Duke and his wife were remarkably forward thinking when it came to the ‘mingling’ of the classes, but still as we entered our teenage years I had seen less and less of Marcus while he was required to spend more time with people of proper breeding.

  “Hah! You’re coming over for a social gathering and boar hunt my father has arranged for this week.” Marcus had an incredibly smug expression on his face as if he had impressed himself with his own cleverness. The idea wasn’t that clever so I knew he was hiding something.

  “You just made that up didn’t you,” I accused.

  “Not a chance!” He had a definite glimmer in his eye. “Father planned this party two months ago. Young men and ladies of gentle breeding from all over the realm will be descending on our noble duchy this week.”

  That gave him away. “Young...oh wait! You sneaky bastard! This is one of those ‘mixers’ your parents have been sending you to in order to properly socialize you with the gentry!” In po
int of fact Marcus resented the social gatherings his parents forced him to attend. He would describe them to me as dull occasions, attended by dimwitted fops obsessed with their own self-importance. I was sure he secretly enjoyed them, at least somewhat; he merely presented them in a negative light to make me feel better since I couldn’t attend. Which raised a question, “Wait, wait, I’m confused. How do you intend to bring a commoner along for this thing?” The ‘commoner’ of course was me; I had no illusions about my social standing.

  Marc snickered, “Ah my friend, this time is different! My father is hosting this event, and since it is my home I can bring anyone I wish.” That effectively ended my last good argument. He got up and began leading Star away. He could have ridden her, but he was an excellent horseman, and it never even occurred to him to do so after her ordeal in the river. “I’ll have the invitation over in a couple of hours. I’ll send a coach for you tomorrow evening.”

  I shook my head, embarrassed and tried to think of a good parting remark. My wit failed me however, so I had to settle for a simple, “See you tomorrow.” I began walking home, trying to figure out how I was going to explain this to my parents.

  Chapter II

  ANY MEANINGFUL STUDY OF MAGIC must begin with those most proficient in its use: mages, or wizards, as those more educated in its use are called. Those individuals who, for uncounted generations have been passing knowledge, from master to apprentice, regarding how to effectively use and shape the forces of magic, or as they refer to it, the ‘aythar’. According to their teachings, aythar is the vital force present in all living things, and in some part also in inanimate objects, although to a lesser degree. It is the core force behind things we describe with many different names such as: energy, spirit, life-force, élan, passion, magic, and faith.

  ~Marcus the Heretic,

  On the Nature of Faith and Magic

  The next evening arrived more quickly than I would have imagined, and there was the coach, pulling up near our house. My father had actually been rather pleased by my news. He had a fair opinion of the Duke already, and I’m sure he saw this as an opportunity to acquire more favorable terms and business for the smithy. It certainly can’t hurt, having your son be friends with the next Duke. Mother was a bit more anxious. She seemed certain I would commit some serious breach of etiquette and get myself and possibly the family into trouble. I tried my best to reassure her, but looking back I see now she was much wiser than I had ever given her credit for.

  Stepping into the coach, I was surprised to see Marc within. He gave me a wide grin, “Hullo! Ready to start your adventures?”

  I answered in a sour tone, “This isn’t some romance where we’re off to slay dragons and rescue damsels you know.”

  “Says you, but I have a rather more optimistic view on these matters. Besides which, there will indeed be some fair damsels at Castle Lancaster over the next few days, some of whom may well need a rescue,” he replied.

  “From what?”

  “Not what, who!”

  I sighed, my friend had developed a definite talent with women over the past year, or so I had heard. “You’d best be careful; tupping the town girls is a far cry from besmirching the honor of a nobleman’s daughter.”

  He didn’t answer that, just grinned at me. We rode in silence for a while, ‘till the bailey came into sight and the outer walls drew closer. I was staring out the coach window when something caught my eye. “Marc! Look at that.” I pointed out the window, toward the nearing archway.

  Marc poked his head out the window to look in the direction I had pointed, “What?”

  “The wall, what are those odd symbols? See them glowing like phosphor?” I was pointing again, trying to show him the glowing runes limning the archway ahead of us.

  “I don’t see a thing,” he said as he sat back down, “describe them to me.” I did the best I could, and by the time I was done we were through the gate and heading for the stables. “Oh! Of course!” he said.

  “Of course what!? Don’t leave me wondering dammit.” The glowing runes had put me on edge.

  “You saw the castle wards. Father told me about them, but apparently only people with the ‘sight’ can see them. I’m guessing that includes wizards,” he answered, rolling his eyes up and to the side, as if to indicate he didn’t know any wizards.

  “I’m not a.... Anyway! Wait, they weren’t there last week when I came to town. Did your father hire some sorcerer to enspell the walls these past few days?”

  Marc stared back at me, “No. The wards are old. They were placed decades ago by some wizard my grandfather employed for a short time.”

  “Then why couldn’t I see them before now?”

  “Well you didn’t used to possess livestock and walk on water either. Ah! I know! Did you just finish puberty? I noticed the other day you don’t look quite as girly any more...check your balls, are you getting fuzzy down there?” He ducked, laughing, as I threw my travel sack at him.

  The coach stopped, and a footman held the door for us to step down, so we tabled our discussion for later. Stepping into the courtyard I saw a familiar face. “Dorian!” I called out to a stalwart looking man crossing over to us. Dorian Thornbear was actually the same age as Marc and I. He was not quite as tall as me, standing about five foot ten inches, but he had quite a bit more muscle than either of us. He was the son of the Duke’s seneschal, and because of his martial prowess, he had already been accepted into the lord’s service as a man at arms. The stiff leathers he wore along with the spear in his hands were visible evidence of this.

  “Ho! Master Marcus! Who let this ragamuffin in here?” Dorian said this with a light tone; we had all been friends since I had begun visiting the keep as a child.

  Marc spoke, “I’ve invited Mort to spend the week.”

  “You going to bunk with me again, Mort?” asked Dorian. Usually in the past I’d stay with Dorian’s family if I was sleeping at the keep. Technically his family was minor gentry, but they were a lot less intimidating than the Duke’s family. Plus, our fathers were close friends.

  I started to reply with a yes, but Marc interrupted me with a hand on my shoulder, “Not this time Dorian, I’ve convinced him to let me put him up in one of the guest rooms.”

  Dorian frowned, “Will there be enough room with all the visiting peers this week?”

  “Certainly,” Marc replied.

  “But...” I started to object.

  “Shhh! Don’t argue, besides you need to be in the main keep if we’re to visit the library at night without creating a lot of questions among the castle guard,” Marc glanced at Dorian who’s eyebrows had gone up at this. “We’re on a secret mission!” he whispered in a conspiratorial tone.

  “Really?” Dorian Thornbear was one of the bravest and most loyal friends I had ever known, but he had a certain lack of guile built into him. He was honest to a fault, perhaps that’s what made him a bit gullible. Not that the young lord of Lancaster was trying to fool him, it was just that Dorian tended to take such things over-seriously. We wound up standing in a sort of huddle near the back of the coach as Marc and I filled Dorian in on the events of the past couple of days. The three of us had always been as thick as thieves, but I had some concern that Dorian might give away my secret. Deception had never been his strong suit.

  “Now what would you lads be conspiring at!?” The loud voice of Marc’s father, Lord James, the Duke of Lancaster, came booming from behind us. He was a man of moderate build, with sandy brown hair and blue eyes. He laughed as Dorian whirled to look back at him.

  “Nothing, Your Grace!” Dorian ducked his head as he replied.

  “You look well, Your Grace. Thank you for the invitation.” I gave a formal bow; I have always had a knack for keeping a cool head.

  “You are welcome, young Eldridge. Please give your father my best wishes when you see him again. I trust you will enjoy your stay with us.” The Duke was unusual among most of the peerage, in that he treated all his vassals, an
d even yeomen, with courtesy and respect, though he had no requirement to do so. It was a fact that had made him extremely well liked among the people of Lancaster.

  “Father! Why do you insist on scaring my friends?” Marc was a bit annoyed with the Duke.

  “Hah!” The duke exclaimed, “It’s every man’s right to embarrass his son. Would you deny me the simple pleasures of life in my dotage?”

  James Lancaster was still in his late thirties, and still quite hale, which his son was quick to point out, “When you’ve actually gone senile, Father you’ll know it, because we’ll have you put out to pasture.” They spoke for a bit more before the duke finally relented and left us to our own devices. Dorian had to report for duty, something he remembered rather quickly after the duke had surprised us, so he excused himself and we were on our own again.

  “Let me show you the room I’ve got picked out. You’ll love it.” Marc led the way through the keep and up the stairs. I followed, curious despite myself. Although I had visited many times over the years, I had never been given a room inside the keep itself. When we finally came to a stop outside the door, I realized we were extremely close to the Lancaster family quarter.

  “Are you sure this is right? Isn’t this near your family’s rooms?” I asked.

  “Indeed, my door is right over there,” Marc pointed across the hall. He opened the door and shoved me in before I could start objecting. The room itself was ostentatious, at least by my standards. It held a large four poster bed, dressing table, chair, a desk, and some sort of odd couch-like piece. I had no idea what it was, but I discovered later it was called a ‘divan’.