Vega Jane and the Secrets of Sorcery

by David Baldacci

  Harry Two followed me to my quad and I had to tell him in no uncertain terms that he could not attack Non while we were fighting. Then I whispered in his ear, ‘But when he finishes me off, have at the bloke and don’t leave much behind.’

  Harry Two was now nearly ninety pounds and none of it was fat. And his fangs were nearly as long as my longest finger. He looked at me with what seemed like the greatest understanding. I believe he even smiled. I dearly loved my canine.

  As I stepped into the quad, I glanced to my left and saw Delph shuffling up with his bad leg and crutch. He smiled encouragingly, but when he glanced at Non, who had stepped into the other side of the quad, I could see his encouraging look fade to a morose resignation.

  I swallowed hard as the referee gave instructions. That’s when I noted that Non had not taken off his metal. When I pointed this out to the referee, he looked at me like he didn’t understand.

  ‘Unless he takes it off and beats you with it, female, ’tis well within the rules of the Duelum.’

  ‘And if he hits me with it and kills me?’ I said angrily.

  ‘Then he will be appropriately penalized.’

  Non laughed. ‘But you’ll still be dead.’

  ‘Non!’ admonished the referee, a small, wizened old Wug named Silas. I suspected he had very poor eyesight, because he had looked at my belly button when addressing me and had looked to Non’s left when addressing him. ‘Let’s have a good, clean fight,’ Silas added, now staring at my knees.

  Non cracked his knuckles. I tried to crack my knuckles but succeeded only in bending one of my pinkies back so far I cried out in pain. Non laughed.

  The fight bell was rung and Non hurtled straight at me. I instinctively backed away, sidestepped Non at the last instant and poked one of my long legs out. He tripped over my shin, sending shock waves up and down my entire body, and he fell like a great tree to the dirt. I skirted away from him as he rose and whirled around, blood in both eyes. He came at me again and once more I dodged him. I wasn’t sure how long I could keep this up. At some point I would be out of puff. One punch, and I had little doubt I would go down. I once again lamented leaving Destin behind.

  ‘Stop mucking about, female,’ snarled Non. ‘You’re here to fight, not run like a skittish baby slep.’ But as he said these words, he was also breathing heavily. It finally dawned on me. The lout’s metal breastplate was very weighty, no doubt. Wearing it and having to chase me was tiring him out faster than he had anticipated.

  He lunged at me again and I let him get within a gnat’s whisker before I leaped out of the way. My labouring with the bundles of rocks that Delph had made for me was actually paying off. I felt very light on my feet. And strong, even without Destin.

  Non dropped to one knee to regain his breath and I took the opportunity to slam my boot into his behind, driving him head first into the dirt.

  Delph yelled, ‘Atta female, Vega Jane!’

  When Non regained his feet, I could see he was in a paddy, nearly foaming at the mouth. But, as with Cletus Loon, I now had a plan. It seemed that on the field of combat, I was becoming good at keeping my wits and employing tactics on the fly.

  Non continued to chase me and I continued to keep just out of reach. I got a bit overconfident once, though, and his backhanded blow swiped across my head and knocked me more than three feet into the air. I tasted my blood as a great gash was opened over my left eye. I also believed I felt my brain bounce off both sides of my skull. When I landed, I rolled just in time to avoid Non coming down on top of me with his elbow pointed down, like Delph had once demonstrated. Instead of colliding with my neck, his bony arm hit the hard-packed dirt and he howled in pain and toppled forward on his belly. This time I did not let him get back up.

  I tucked my hands inside the opening of the breastplate around his neck and pulled with all my strength. The breastplate came halfway off and did what I had intended it to do. It pinned his arms helplessly straight up in the air and his head was now inside the metal, so he was also blinded. I leaped up and came down on the back of the breastplate with both boots. Even though I was far smaller than he was, I still carried a big wallop when I struck. Non’s face was propelled not into the dirt but, instead, into the far harder metal of the breastplate. I did this four more times until I heard something crack and he screamed.

  I jumped off him, grabbed the breastplate, pulled it completely off and coshed him on the head with it. There was a sound like a melon dropped from a great height hitting the dirt, and Non became very still.

  Silas hurried over to examine him and then waved the Mendens over. I stood there, my breath coming in short bursts, my head bloody and swollen where his fist had connected, and my legs nearly numb from stomping on the metal. As the Mendens worked away on Non, Silas glanced at the breastplate, looked in my general vicinity and then glanced at the breastplate once more. He tapped his fingers against his chin. ‘I will have to look this up in the rule book,’ he said. ‘As I told you, the breastplate cannot be used as a weapon.’

  ‘By him,’ I blurted out. ‘He chose to wear it. It’s not my fault if he was stupid enough to let me get it off him and use it against him, is it?’

  ‘Hmmm,’ he said as he considered this.

  ‘She’s right, Silas,’ said a voice.

  We both turned to see Thansius standing there. ‘Vega is right,’ he said again. ‘Section twelve, paragraph N of the Duelum Rules of Combative Conduct. Anything that an opponent wears into the quad can be legally used as a weapon against him by his opponent. In other words, he who brings into the quad what can be weaponized does so at his peril.’ He glanced at the prostrate Non. ‘An apt description in this case.’

  Silas nodded. ‘No need to look it up. As a past Duelum champion many times over, your knowledge on the subject is far better than mine.’

  Silas turned to me and held up my hand in victory.

  I just stood gaping as six Wugs lifted a groaning Non on to a stretcher and carried him off. I hoped he later would be delivered to the Care, where no one would ever come and visit him. When Silas let my hand drop, I stayed there, unable to move. My paralysis was broken by Thansius, who gripped my shoulder. I turned to look up at him.

  ‘Well done, Vega – well done indeed.’

  ‘Thank you, Thansius.’

  ‘Now, I think we best leave the quad. The next bouts are about to commence.’

  We walked off the pitch together.

  ‘Your fighting skills are quite ingenious,’ Thansius commented. ‘You sized up your far larger and stronger opponent and used his own strength and tools against him.’

  ‘Well, if I had fought him toe-to-toe, I would have lost. And I don’t like to lose.’

  ‘I can see that.’

  The way he said it, I wasn’t quite sure if he thought that a good or a bad attribute.

  He pointed to my face. ‘You might want to get a Menden to tidy you up a bit.’

  I nodded and wiped at the blood. What with the dirty shot to the face I had taken from Cletus and now these fresh wounds, it was a wonder I could even see.

  ‘So, on to the third round with you,’ he said pleasantly enough.

  I stared at him, wondering why he was even bothering to talk to me.

  ‘Do you really expect me to keep winning?’ I said.

  ‘I can’t say, Vega.’

  ‘But why would you even care?’

  He seemed startled by the bluntness of my question. ‘I care about all Wugmorts.’

  ‘Even those accused of treason?’ I asked.

  He flinched with this comment. ‘Your frankness is often spellbinding, Vega.’

  ‘I’m not a traitor. I had the book and the map, but I would never use either against my fellow Wugs. Never.’

  He searched my features. ‘You’re a fine warrior, Vega. If all Wugs could fight as well as you, we would have little worry in case of invasion.’

  ‘Or Morrigone could simply exercise her considerable powers and vanquish the so-ca
lled Outliers in a sea of blue mist with one sweep of her graceful hand.’

  I had no idea why I said this. And I did not know what his reaction would be to my words. But his response was unexpected.

  ‘We have many things to fear in Wormwood, Vega. But that is not one of them.’

  I gaped at him, trying to decipher his words precisely.

  He said, ‘Now, don’t forget to have your injuries sorted out. We need you at your best come the third round.’

  He picked up his pace and was soon well ahead of me. I slowed my walk, suddenly grinned and bolted to the betting circle. There was a long queue, but this light I had a patience that was inexhaustible.

  When I reached the front of the queue, I held out my parchment to Litches McGee. I expected him to be very angry, but he wasn’t. He gleefully counted out a great many coins from a very fat bag of them and handed them to me. I stared down at them in wonder. I had never held more than one coin at any one time, and then only briefly as it would quickly go to pay a bill or two.

  McGee said, ‘I made a small fortune this light, seeing as how every Wug wagered against you.’

  ‘Not every Wug,’ said a familiar voice.

  I turned to see Delph holding out his parchment.

  As we put our coins in our pockets, I said to McGee, ‘So you’ll be changing your name now?’

  ‘What say you?’ he asked with a puzzled look. ‘Change me name to what?’

  ‘To Alvis Alcumus, you prat.’

  I walked off chortling with Delph.

  ‘On to the third round,’ said Delph eagerly as Harry Two sidled up next to us.

  I rubbed my bloody, swollen face and looked at Delph out of the only eye I could. ‘I’m not sure I’ll last.’

  ‘Just three more times and you’re champion,’ he said, smiling broadly.

  Only I wasn’t sure I had many tricks or strategies left.

  We were both hobbling along when a Wug named Thaddeus Kitchen, who worked in the Mill with Delph, came running up. He was breathless and his face pale.

  ‘Delph, you need to come quick!’ he gasped.

  ‘Why – what’s wrong?’ asked Delph, the smile struck clean from his face.

  ‘It be your dad. He’s terrible hurt down by the Wall.’

  Kitchen turned and rushed off.

  Delph threw aside his crutch and, bad leg and all, limped full tilt after him, with me and Harry Two right behind.

  41

  ALL FALL DOWN

  Terrible hurt.

  That’s what Kitchen had said about Duf.

  It still didn’t prepare either of us for what we saw.

  Duf Delphia lay on a patch of dirt in front of the great and ugly Wall that to me now seemed as grotesque and evil as any vile creature I had yet faced. Delph raced to his father’s right side while I knelt at his other. We at once realized that Duf’s lower legs were smashed nearly flat at the knees. He was delirious with the pain and writhing wildly even as two Mendens worked feverishly over him with their instruments, bandages and salves.

  Delph gripped his dad’s hand. ‘I’m here,’ he said, his voice breaking. ‘I’m here, Dad.’

  ‘What happened?’ I asked.

  Thaddeus Kitchen was standing behind me. He pointed to the Wall. ‘Section of timbers fell, caught him at the knees. Blood and bone, ’twas everywhere. Never seen nothing like it. Why, ’twas like the most disgustin’ bitta—’

  ‘All right, we get the idea,’ I said, my worried gaze on Delph.

  I looked over at a gaping hole in the Wall nearly thirty feet up.

  ‘How did they fall?’ I asked.

  ‘Strap failed, what done it,’ replied Kitchen.

  I nearly fell over.

  A strap failed? One of my straps?

  Kitchen said in a loud, patronizing tone, ‘If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a dozen times, haven’t I? We’re all rushing around like we’re mad for it, and now we’re a right pig’s ear, ain’t we? Cut Wugs. Smashed Wugs. Dead Wugs. And for what? A bunch of stacked wood that will no more keep away the Outliers than me female could waving her hanky at ’em. One biscuit short of a picnic was the Wug thought that up, ask me.’

  ‘Well, nobody did ask you, Thaddeus Kitchen!’ I exclaimed.

  I shot a glance at Delph. He was looking directly at me, his features a jumble of emotions including confusion, but the only one that really stood out for me was disappointment. Disappointment in my straps. I was so focused on Delph that I never heard one of the Mendens say that Duf needed to be taken to Hospital.

  A cart and burly slep was brought around and Duf, now no longer conscious, was hoisted into it. I helped lift him along with some other Wugs, while Delph just stood there helplessly. I finally gripped his arm and pushed him into the cart with his father.

  ‘I’ll be there shortly,’ I said.

  As the cart headed off, I turned to the Wall and walked over to the section that had given way. Several Wugs were inspecting the pile of splintered wood, but I focused my attention on the metal strap. I had etched my initials into each of the straps and I could see the letters of my name clear as first light. The strap was in two pieces – one large, one smaller – because it had torn. I couldn’t conceive of how that could have happened. Everything had been planned out so carefully in the specifications. And I had carried out those details as meticulously as I had ever done on a job at Stacks, for the simple reason that I well knew how much weight the straps would be supporting.

  I squatted down for a closer look and what I saw caused my jaw to drop. Two additional holes had been cut at the bottom of the strap, and then these additional holes had been widened considerably more than I had done to the other holes. By about four inches was my rough judgement. The tear had come right in the middle of one of the extra holes. It was crystal clear to me that by adding holes and making them bigger, someone had considerably weakened the strap.

  ‘You can see right there where it done give way,’ said Kitchen, who had followed me over and was pointing at the tear in the strap.

  ‘Who added the holes and made them larger?’ I asked, gazing up at him.

  He drew closer and gathered his focus. ‘Blimey, them pair are bigger, ain’t they?’

  ‘They were not done like that at Stacks. How did they get that way?’ I demanded.

  Another Wug joined us. He was a bit taller than me, with a bristly beard, gangly limbs and a self-important look.

  ‘Design change,’ he said.

  ‘Why?’ I asked.

  ‘Holes lower like that, they can load more timber with each one that way. Simple, see. We made the fresh cuts right here on-site.’

  I said, ‘But by doing that, you also made it weak. It was never meant to hold that many timbers,’ I said, pointing at the splintery mess on the ground. I rose and eyed him severely. ‘The specifics of the straps were not to be changed.’

  He puffed out his chest. ‘What do you know about it, eh, female?’

  ‘Because I punched the holes in the straps at Stacks,’ I shot back. ‘I’m the Finisher.’ I looked up at the Wall. ‘How many more of the straps did they do this to?’ He didn’t answer. I grabbed him by the collar and shook him violently. ‘How many more?!’

  ‘Blimey, you the female in the Duelum, ain’t ya?’

  ‘She beat Non this light,’ added Kitchen, looking nervously at me.

  ‘How many more?!’ I screamed.

  ‘A great many more,’ said the voice.

  I turned and Morrigone stood there before me, in her resplendent cloak, a sheet of white in a sea of dung. ‘Please let poor Henry go, Vega. I don’t think he deserves to be throttled for simply doing his job.’

  I let ‘poor’ Henry go and advanced on her. ‘Do you know what happened to Duf?’ I asked.

  ‘I was fully apprised of the unfortunate incident. I will go to see him in Hospital.’

  ‘If he’s still alive,’ I retorted.

  Another Wug came up to her with a scroll and an ink stick. She l
ooked at the scroll and then took the ink stick from him, wrote some notes on the scroll, and I watched as she signed her name in an elongated motion that took up nearly half the page. She motioned for me to join her as she moved away from the two Wugs.

  ‘So what exactly is your grievance?’ she asked.

  ‘Whoever changed the strap design is responsible for what happened to Duf.’ My pointed finger hovered near her perfect chin. ‘The fools should be in Valhall.’

  She glanced to her left and said, ‘I am surprised that you of all Wugs would advocate for him to be sent there.’

  I followed her gaze, and my eyes settled on my brother standing on the raised platform and working away on a tilt-top desk, massive amounts of scrolls laid in front of him. My jaw dropped for the second time.

  ‘John changed the design on the straps?’ I managed to say, my confidence and, with it, my voice having nearly vanished.

  ‘He worked out the numbers on it and pronounced it sound,’ she said casually.

  Her smug attitude brought my anger roaring back. I pointed to the mess of timbers. ‘Well, there’s your proof of how sound it is. John may be brilliant, but he has never built anything before in all his sessions.’ My voice rose. ‘You can’t expect to just thrust him into something like this and have no mistakes made. It’s unfair to ask it.’

  ‘On the contrary, I do not ask it. In an undertaking like this, mistakes are certain to be made. We must learn from them and move on.’

  ‘And what of Duf?’

  ‘All that can be done will be done to ease Mr Delphia’s situation.’

  My anger swelled. ‘He’s a beast trainer. How can he do that with no legs!’

  ‘He will be supported by Council. Injury wages shall be paid.’

  ‘And what of his self-respect? What of his love for his job? You give him a few coins and tell him to be happy with what he no longer has?’

  Tears were welling up in my eyes because all I could think of was Delph staring at me. The disappointment in his face. As though I had let him and his father down. As though I had taken his father’s limbs and maybe his life along with them.