Key to Magic 02 Magician

by H. Jonas Rhynedahll

  Lord Ghorn nodded, his expression one of utter respect. “As you wish, my lord.”

  “As a member of the Senate,” Lady Rhavaelei interrupted forcefully, dodging the matron’s restraining hand to confront the Prince Commander, “I demand passage on the first skyship!”

  The prince glared at the woman in sheer exasperation, but nodded as well. “Mother Peli, put the Senator on the ship. Berhl will show you where.”

  The matron bobbed her head. “Aye, milord!” She took a firm grip on Lady Rhavaelei’s upper arm and began dragging the angry woman into the court.

  Lord Hhrahld watched the two women depart. “Go with them, Ghesev. See that that siren causes no mischief.”

  “Aye, sir!” Ghesev picked up the boy prince and he and the other corsairs trailed Mother Peli and her charge.

  Lord Ghorn rounded on Mar and stuck out his hand. “Good luck, magician.”

  Mar gripped the man’s hand after the barest hesitation. “Luck to you also,” he replied, finding the sentiment less than familiar.

  “Mhiskva, Lhervhes, Aerlon, Lord Hhrahld,” the prince commanded, “with me if you please.”

  Mar turned as the officers, already discussing defensive positions and proposing stratagems, moved away. Telriy kept her arm linked with his, having to hurry as he lengthened his stride to take them back to the first skyship.

  “Will you be able to rescue them all?” the girl asked him quietly. “There’s so many.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Do you have to try?”

  “Yes.”

  When they reached the hatch of the first skyship, it was to find a queue of children, women, and injured men boarding, encouraged by several marines. The line, whose members, including the infants, bore the strain of yet another retreat in exhausted silence, wound out from the steps of the Central tower. Already, marines had begun to divert some of the passengers to the second skyship.

  Ulor, at the hatch, passed small children from an anxious woman standing on the ground through to another marine behind him.

  “Berhl’s on the other skyship, sir,” the marine offered, reaching to pull the anxious woman through the hatch. “He’s planning to ride with that one and captain her. I’ll be here as your second.”

  “Your family?”

  “They’ll make the next trip, sir,” Ulor explained calmly. “Lord Ghorn will keep them safe.”

  Mar nodded and squeezed through the hatch, with Telriy right behind him. Much of the lower deck was already full. Many of the people sat on bundles, talking quietly, but some were standing to look out through the rope netting.

  At the bow, a marine busied himself lashing a cask to a ring hastily spiked to a rib. Mar grabbed the fellow’s arm. “Have them all sit. And make sure those smaller children stay away from the sides.”

  “Aye, sir.” The man immediately began bawling at the passengers to secure themselves.

  Mar had to wait till two young women boosted a grandmother up the ladder before he could climb to the upper deck. Phehlahm worked feverishly on the tiny foredeck, strapping down shields, crossbows, and other weapons. A half dozen marines were scurried up and down a narrow cleared aisle, reassuring and arranging the passengers crowded beneath the canvas cover. Far to the rear, a pair of wiry men waited at the stub of the stern post, next to a pile of thick rope.

  Mar climbed up beside the young marine. Telriy joined them.

  “How long till all of them are aboard, Phehlahm?” Mar asked, tilting his head toward the passengers.

  “Just minutes, sir. It’ll take a bit longer to load the other skyship, though.”

  “Good. We’ll take this one up first then I’ll move to the second and raise it behind the first. I’ll need the ships tied together about a manheight apart.”

  “Aye, sir. I’ll let E’hve and Chaer know.” Phehlahm hopped down to the deck and sped off toward the rear.

  Mar looked out over the bailey, where the frantic construction continued unabated. The upper deck of the second skyship, just thirty-five or so paces away, was already nearly full and a shallow crowd stirred along its side. Marines had begun manhandling passengers directly into the belly of the skyship through the spaces between the ribs. Others strung cables in place of the upper deck’s wooden rails and still more waited to complete the rope netting that would cover the open ribs.

  A metallic rattle above him drew his attention to the walkway atop the curtain wall to his right. A score legionnaires, bearing shields, crossbows, bundles of shafts, and long hook-bladed polearms, were deploying to reinforce the sentries.

  Phehlahm returned, huffing lightly. “E’hve and Chaer are ready. Chaer’s got a good hand with a cast.”

  “Good.”

  “Sir?”

  “What is it, Phehlahm?”

  “What’s the name o’ the ship, sir?”

  “What? It doesn’t have a name.”

  “Ah, pardon sir, but it’s unlucky to ride a ship with no name, sir. The old sailors, they say that Ephtehg’rha will suck it right down to the bottom on its maiden voyage.”

  “Ephtehg’rha?”

  “That’d be the bastard son of Luftorh, God of the Oceans. He was seduced by Myrae’n the Snake Goddess –“

  “We’re not going over the water, Phehlahm.”

  “All the same, sir, it’d be unlucky to go nameless.”

  “Alright,” Mar acquiesced. “This is Number One. The other is Number Two.”

  Phehlahm grimaced. “Odd names, sir. But I suppose that they’ll do.”

  Mar snorted.

  Ulor climbed up from the deck below. “All aboard, sir, and ready to cast off.”

  “Cast off what?”

  Ulor raised his shoulders and stuck his hands out dramatically as if to acknowledge that he did in fact know that there were not any lines. “Sorry, sir. Nautical terms don’t exactly fit with the magical ships. Should we say ‘raise ship?’”

  “Fine. Just tell everyone to get ready.”

  Ulor nodded at Phehlahm and the younger marine surprised Mar by turning aft and yelling “Vessel of the City Number One, stand by to raise ship!”

  Ignoring the stir that passed through the passengers, Mar rapidly lifted the skyship, easing back on the sighing browns when he judged their altitude at fifteen manheight. Squeals and frightened murmuring began to rise from the noncombatants. The deck marines moved about to quiet the hubbub.

  “I’m going to bring up Number Two,” Mar told Telriy and his crew. Without waiting for a response, he infused his brigandine and sailed off the deck and down toward the pilot deck of the other skyship. Behind him, he heard the girl gasp.

  As Mar settled onto the foredeck, Berhl saluted, acting for all the world as if a man flying down from the air was an absolutely commonplace occurrence. In comparison, the marine crewmen waiting at the foot of the short stair stared openly and the passengers on the deck behind them reacted with choked screams and shouts.

  “Ready to go?” Mar demanded of the fugleman.

  “Aye, sir. As ready as we’ll ever be.”

  Mar smoothly but quickly raised the skyship, shifting it slowly behind Number One, and then closed the gap between the two ships. When Number Two came to a halt, one of the marines, presumably Chaer, climbed up to perch atop the rail while his mate steadied him, and began swinging a loop of heavy line.

  “Rzef, Kheral, up here to make fast the line!” Berhl ordered.

  The two men did as bid and shortly a thick cable had been passed between the two skyships and secured to the stub of the bowsprit.

  “Might better tie some lines off amidships just to be sure,” Berhl mused, studying the unbraced post.

  “Whatever you think, Berhl,” Mar agreed. “You need to make sure all the passengers stay seated. Once we get up to speed, the wind will be pretty stiff. The bow should deflect some of it, but it still may be rough.”

  “We’ll keep them secure, sir, even if we have to lash some of them down.”

  Feeling
pressed for time, Mar launched himself upward without another word, passing above the heads of Chaer and E’hve and the tarps that shaded the passengers of the first skyship, and came down on the pilot deck where Ulor, Phehlahm and an apparently now annoyed Telriy awaited him. Someone had rolled out a large hand-inked map on one side of the wedge shaped space, weighing it down with a brass naval compass, a sextant, and an external-spring clock in a mahogany box.

  “Thought these might be useful, sir,” Ulor explained.

  “Good idea,” Mar approved. “Show me what you’ve got.”

  Ulor bent over to point at the map. “Pamplyea is here, east by north-east of Mhajhkaei. The province of Llorhm lies between.”

  Mar pointed to a snaking heavy line drawn a good distance north of the city. “What’s this?”

  “The Lower Gray. It’s a large stream that empties into the Ice River at the barge landing at Old Marsh.”

  “How far is the Lower Gray from here?”

  Ulor walked a stick compass across the map. “About twelve leagues.”

  Mar trailed his finger over the map in a direct line toward Pamplyea and stopped at a road crossing. “So here would be about twenty leagues?”

  “Aye, sir. That north road is the one going to the town of Elboern. The other goes from the ferry at Oak Point on the Ice to the border of the neighboring princedom of the City of Suhr.” Ulor gestured off the right side of the map.

  Mar made his decision. “We’ll head for the crossroads. Can you keep a heading with the compass? I’ve never used one.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  “Make sure the men at the stern watch the stress in the tow cable and give a yell if it looks under too great a strain.”

  “Already done, sir,” Phehlahm chimed in.

  “Hang on,” Mar told the marines. Moved by a stray thought, he offered Telriy a hand. The girl made an exasperated face but took his hand all the same and then locked her arm with his, bracing her feet. Though it bothered him that he found her close presence both comforting and exhilarating, he could not resist the allure of it.

  Mar shook his head to throw off the distraction and began feeding a cool daisy tempo into the skyship. Number One drifted forward, jarring only slightly when the short slack stretched from the stern cable. He could sense the ethereal makeup of Number Two, or most of it, but resisted the temptation to add the driving spell to the second skyship. He needed to test whether the barge train idea would actually work. Gradually, he upped the brightness-loudness of the daisy tempo. When Number Two followed faithfully with no apparent difficulty, Mar sighed in relief and increased his speed.

  “Come to starboard a few degrees, sir,” Ulor requested. When Mar had adjusted his spell slightly, the marine confirmed, “Hold that heading.”

  “We’ve passed over the city wall,” Phehlahm announced.

  As Mar drove the ship to greater speed, Telriy’s skirt began to snap in the wind and the tarps behind the pilot deck took up a rattle. Ulor jumped to catch the chart when the clock tipped over, freeing one corner. With Phehlahm’s assistance, the fugleman gathered up his gear and moved down to the upper deck where there was some shelter from the steady wind.

  Realizing he had no need of watching their route and urging the girl before him, Mar joined the marines, squatting down to be heard over the rush of the air.

  “We need to go faster still,” he told Ulor. “Are the tarps fastened well enough to take it?”

  “Aye, sir. We braced them to hold up in a gale.”

  Mar ratcheted the skyship’s speed to what he thought its maximum, watching the canvas. The rattle increased, but nothing broke loose. Weary, he sank down and stretched out his legs, leaning his head back against the uneven edge of the foredeck planks. Telriy took a place beside him.

  Phehlahm offered her a canteen and she took a small sip then passed it to Mar. He took a long, grateful swallow.

  The rest of the flight was uneventful. Mar reduced speed after forty-five minutes by the clock, and sighted the chosen crossroads only a few minutes later. Planted fields and a multi-acre woodlot surrounded the intersection of the unpaved highways, but there were no farmhouses or other buildings immediately near by.

  In just minutes, he had brought Number One down, transferred to Number Two and lowered it to rest as well. A manic half-hour later, he raised ship again with only Telriy, Ulor, and Phehlahm aboard Number one, leaving Berhl and most of the marines the difficult task of constructing a temporary camp under the lengthening shadows of the lowering sun.

  FORTY-SIX

  Ulor handed Mar another slice of cheese. “And you, my lady?”

  Telriy shook her head. “I’m done, thank you.”

  Mar chewed the cheese, which was a little dry and had a strong flavor, followed it with the last of his bread, and then chased it all with a long swig of water. His first and probably last meal of the day had been a simple fare served from Ulor’s pack as the skyships cruised back to Mhajhkaei. The four of them sat on the wind sheltered forward end of the upper deck. The gale crossing the pilot deck was too ferocious to be braved for long. He had already made a mental note that the bow would have to be planked higher to completely deflect the wind, with perhaps stout glass windows to permit forward view.

  “Show me the map again, Ulor,” he said, thinking.

  The fugleman stowed the field rations back into his pack and set it to the side. With Phehlahm’s aid, he unrolled the map on the deck between them. Telriy held down one corner.

  Mar placed a finger on the dot labeled OLD MARSH alongside the snaking blue course of the Ice. “You said this is a barge landing? River barges from Khalar?”

  “Aye, sir. The majority dock at Yhelbton but a few come down to Old Marsh. They offload some timber, dark hardwoods mostly, for a mill back up this creek.”

  “How many?”

  “I don’t know,” Ulor replied apologetically. “I’m just going by what I’ve heard. I’ve never been there myself.”

  “How far is it off our course?”

  “Seven or eight leagues.”

  “Can you give me a bearing?”

  Ulor glanced at the clock. “We’re come about half way, but I’d have to find a landmark or road to pinpoint our position.”

  Mar brought Number One to a gradual stop. Number Two slowed correspondingly. Fortunately, as a side affect of his lifting spell, Number Two had a natural resistance to motion that counteracted its own speed as the pull from Number One lessened. As he felt the skyship slow, Ulor went to the rail and began to examine the landscape below.

  “What are you thinkin’, sir?” Phehlahm asked. “To put the barges to flight?”

  “Yes. We need more skyships. Five aren’t enough.” Mar laughed dryly. “Fifty probably wouldn’t be enough.”

  “Could you control fifty?” Telriy asked seriously.

  “Probably not, but if we pick up a barge or two, then we may be able to get everyone in one trip instead of two. A slight delay now might save us hours later.”

  “Lord Ghorn likely intends to reinforce the West Redoubt with his Defenders and the marine brigade and would expect you to transport his men there,” Ulor suggested over his shoulder.

  Mar had not forgotten the refugees in the other fortress and had likewise come to the conclusion that the Prince-Commander would not leave the city while men under his orders continued to fight.

  “There are twice as many civilians in the Redoubt,” Mar told the three steadily. “If I can get them all out, then Lord Ghorn won’t have any reason to stay.”

  “Aye,” Phehlahm agreed sadly. “The city is lost. What do you think will become o’ the other people in the Citadel, the ones that didn’t make it into the Redoubt? Do you think many o’ them will escape?”

  Mar shook his head. “The Phaelle’n weren’t attacking the civilians from what we saw earlier. It seems likely that now that they have conquered the city they will have no reason to destroy it.”

  “They won’t destroy Mhajhkaei,” Te
lriy confirmed. “Their original intention was only to strike at the merchant interests, the ships and the warehouses, to demonstrate the power of their magic and force the city to make accommodation with them.”

  “Now that they control the city,” Ulor offered in a flat voice, “it would be self-destructive to do more damage or massacre the citizens. The simple fact that The Greatest City in All the World has fallen to the Phaelle’n will almost certainly bully many of the other cities on the mainland into submission.”

  “So there’s no stoppin’ the Monks? They’ll rule the whole world?” Phehlahm asked, shaking his head slightly as if he found the prospect unbelievable.

  “Mar will stop them,” Telriy assured the young marine. “His magic is stronger.”

  “No,” Mar disagreed, a decision coalescing in his mind. He hated the Phaelle’n, but his reasons for making war upon them no longer existed. Telriy was free and he felt certain that he could protect her, now that she seemed inclined to remain with him. The old man had chosen to align himself with the Brotherhood, for whatever mad reason, and as far as Mar was concerned that released him from all obligation. Once he got Lord Ghorn and his Mhajhkaeirii to safety, Mar would be free to go and do – literally – wherever and whatever he chose.

  He knew he wanted to study magic, to discover if he could achieve any other fantastical things, to explore the full extent of this newfound power he possessed. And there was still the remainder of Oyraebos’ text to discover. What other disciplines of magic would be revealed when he found the rest of the text? Once Telriy disclosed the location of The Mother of the Seas, then he could follow the trail wherever it led, traveling to the other side of the world, if need be.

  “No,” Mar repeated firmly. “Once the evacuation is finished, I am done with the Brotherhood.”

  “I will say it again,” Telriy insisted. “You cannot fight your destiny, Mar.”

  Not in a mood to argue, Mar shrugged and climbed to his feet. He joined Ulor at the rail. “Have you figured out where we are?”

  “Aye, I believe so.” Ulor pointed back beyond Number Two to a winding ribbon of glinting water about a league astern. “That must be the Lower Gray. The map shows no other waterway as large hereabouts. Five degrees north of due west should bring us right to Old Marsh.”