Magic's Genesis- The Grey

by Rosaire Bushey

  “Do more,” the cat urged.

  Looking through the trees, Lydria saw the top of a large stone buried in the dirt. Moving the stone should, she thought, leave her limping back to the camp barely able to stand. She stared for a moment and the stone shook as if loosening itself from the soil and lifted from the ground. It was enormous. The top of the stone was barely a portion of the whole which was easily the size of a cow. Lydria moved it through the trees and dropped it close to where she and Kimi stood and waited for the ground to rush up to meet her.

  Seconds ticked by before Kimi spoke. “Are you well?”

  “I feel … fine. I have a dull ache in my shoulder, but otherwise…”

  Lydria and Kimi spent the afternoon performing such magic as she had already learned and finding she was largely unharmed by the effort. As they made their way back to the camp, they silently discussed what might have happened.

  “I cannot heal freely, and while it takes little from me, Haidrea’s wound was no simple cut to mend. The months of keeping Haidrea alive must have worked in the same way my training has,” Lydria said in a rushed voice when everyone had gathered in the cabin.

  Krieger was the first to ask her to do a task. “Ready yourself, Lydria.” With no further warning he threw a chunk of firewood at her. Instantly, Lydria shielded herself from the wood. Krieger raised an eyebrow and looked to the others. Within seconds everyone was throwing whatever they could find in her direction. Lydria easily blocked objects and moved items around in the cabin to knock over her assailants. As the onslaught reached the point where Lydria knew someone was bound to get hurt, she simply yelled for everyone to stop. And they did.

  “What have you done, Lydria?” Kimi was on his rear legs, front paws in the air and mouth opened as if he were about to jump on Branch, who stood holding a bed roll he was swinging toward Lydria’s mid-section. Haidrea, who had not joined in the fray, walked calmly among and between the men, pushing Krieger lightly with her finger to see if he would move. He did not. He stood as a statue with his right hand resting on the hilt of his dagger, his left hand balled into a fist moving toward Lydria’s nose.

  “This is interesting Lydria,” Haidrea said as she completed her navigation of the room and stood in front of her friend. “Why am I still moving?”

  It was a sound question. “You were not involved in the fight and I was not thinking of you as a threat when I spoke.”

  Kimi chimed in again with the same question he had had earlier in the woods, “Are you well?”

  Looking to Kimi and back to Haidrea, Lydria replied aloud. “I feel remarkably well. A little tired and very hungry, but I’m not in any pain.”

  Haidrea sat and indicated Lydria should do likewise. “In my recent travels in the spirit world, I have seen many things that did not make sense, until now. I moved in a place, through a room of statues. The people were still as if carved of stone, but they were alive – they felt alive. They could hear and see and feel. I daresay if you punched Relin in the face now, he would feel it, but would not move. I believe they can also hear us.

  “I can,” Kimi provided. “I can smell and as my mouth is open, I can taste the smoke from the fire – I can do everything…except move.”

  Lydria relayed the bobcat’s message and then asked Haidrea what else she had seen in the spirit world.

  “I have seen a great blue tower that glows brilliantly in a land that is at times engulfed in light and at times covered in darkness. It sits as part of a fortress of ice built upon the souls of those who can see, and feel, and hear, but cannot move. They are angry, and they blame their masters who they believe sent them knowingly to their fate.” Haidrea paused and ran her fingers along the necklace she wore through her tunic, tracing a line around the now solid horse hair circle to the capstone on top of the bone finger that were alike in their hue. She inhaled deeply and looked up at Lydria, “You cannot free them. They must be freed by their captor. But they must not be freed. Their captor must not be allowed to free them. You must do what we could not ... you must kill Wynter.”

  “What do you mean, ‘they can’t be freed’ and ‘what we could not’?”

  Haidrea laughed lightly, recalling a memory for Lydria of when they first met, and she heard that distinctly feminine sound. But the sound was tinged with concern now. It was a laugh that was not carefree. “I am the Haustis now. Through the spirits, I have some connection to all the Haustis of the past, and with the power that flows through this amulet, I can reach more of them than any Haustis before – and they can speak to each other in that realm as well. It was the job given to the previous Haustis to kill Wynter, and she did not do this. You must.”

  THIRTY-NINE

  Wynter couldn’t savor his victory. He laid back, holding the knife in place and trying to assess whether the wound would be fatal. He had put enough knives in people to understand that a stab didn’t necessarily mean death. He also knew, that depending upon where the blade landed, the result could be worse – a long, slow, painful death.

  “Are you stupid? Heal yourself.”

  Would this woman never leave him alone? But, she was right, there was no reason he couldn’t – or should not be able to, and so he turned his mind toward his body and tried to remember the bodies as they were cut by surgeons who had let him watch as they opened his victims. He knew that he would have to mend his body so that the blood loss would not be fatal. Leaving the blade in his side had helped stem the flow, but it would have to come out. Calling on his power he focused on his stomach and the blood and slowly drew the knife away from his body with his right hand. The pain was excruciating.

  “I am with you – and I will help you keep your senses.”

  Wynter, for once, was grateful for her presence; surely without her, he would have passed out and likely bled to death. As the tip of the knife cleared his skin, he threw it aside and reached in his pack for a cloth to use as a dressing for his wound. His magic had helped stop the bleeding at least, but he had lost a tremendous amount of blood. He was dizzy and disoriented, and his skin burned. He wasn’t sure if those feelings were from loss of blood, his fight with the beast, or his use of a type of magic that he had spent little time learning.

  Wynter lowered his head to the dirt and breathed heavily, staring at the blood pooled by his feet. The bleeding had stopped, and he was sure he would live, but he was a brutal mess. A mouth full of holes where teeth used to be; a face, arms and hands burned raw in Haustis’ hellish nightmare; and a long march back to Solwyn still in front of him. He forced himself to sit up and looked at the old woman lying cold on the ground. If it were possible, she was staring at him. She had died with her eyes wide open and her mouth curved up in an almost unnatural smile. He reached down and ripped the necklace from around her neck and scoffed out loud. “There is no Grey, old woman,” he said. “There is only power” and he tossed the circlet back to land near her body.

  The walk home for Wynter was unlike the last time he had made the trip north. Despite his pain and scars he feared nothing. The magic he used was for food, fire, or sometimes to numb the pain his burns caused. The price of this magic seemed to be negligible for him as it cost neither tooth nor excess pain, although any small pain it might cause would be buried under the agony that was his skin.

  “Perhaps,” he pondered, “I have grown strong enough where new magic does not cause me pain any longer.” He didn’t believe it.

  The people he met on his walk gave him wide berth until he called out to them directly. Some wanted to run, but he used his power to pull them toward him. It was taxing, but not debilitating. The people he chose to bring to him were small and weak creatures who only required a bit of a pull before coming to him of their own volition. It might have been done with his voice alone and a surety of presence, but his visage initially repulsed people. They were afraid, he knew, that he might be a leper or have plague or some other equally deadly pox. Only the band of blue around his neck confirmed to them that they were in the p
resence of Wynter, King of Solwyn.

  In that way Wynter learned much as he marched north. News and gossip knew no borders and Ahlric was preparing to march. By high summer, many believed he would take his army from Bayside by the North Gate.

  Wynter was pleased to hear his own army was taking shape under the leadership of Sir Keldon. The roads were being built rapidly and many expected they would be finished within a few years. Trade was moving between the Eastern and Western Reaches, and even the southern outposts were doing well. Fine weather and motivated people will do wonders for the harvest, Wynter thought.

  With each traveler Wynter received not only news, but also food, shelter, or whatever he needed. It seemed that despite his appearance, the name of the king still commanded some respect on the open road. Wynter bade each of them to stop at the Cobalt Tower when they returned north, and he would reward them for their generosity.

  Slowly Wynter made his way into his own lands and returned to Solwyn during the narrow window of darkness in high summer. He did not stop but made sure he was seen returning to his throne. By morning the entire town would know he had returned.

  Wynter entered his castle and was met by Nethyal. This man didn’t sleep, it seemed. But his resourcefulness was commendable and Wynter was weary and grateful for Nethyal’s presence.

  “My king, you are hurt?”

  Wynter smiled. “I was, but I am better now that I return to my home.” Wynter thought it an odd thing to have said but realized he did feel better – physically better. “But I am much better off than the men of Ahlric who ambushed me.”

  Nethyal’s eyes went wide with surprise and Wynter delivered to him a story that would wind its way through the town with the speed of a winter wind. How Ahlric’s men had found him and attacked while he slept and how he had managed to fight them off without a weapon. At the end of the battle, with only one man left standing, King Wynter had showed mercy upon the wretch and told him to return south with a warning to Ahlric. “I told him to tell his king that if the men of Ahlric step foot on the soil of Solwyn or its territories it would mean war.” He looked at Nethyal and offered a smile. “I have left open the door for peace, my friend. Let us see if they take it or repay mercy with treachery.”

  Wynter asked Nethyal to leave him, knowing he would filter the message to his most trusted gossips in town. He wasn’t even sure Nethyal believed him, but it didn’t matter, Nethyal did what needed to be done. The Eifen was very adept at picking up how the men of the kingdoms behaved, and he was even more adept at using that information against them.

  “Is this why you keep him, husband? As a messenger?”

  Inwardly, Wynter bristled at the word husband, but took a moment to answer. The warrior had been useful to him as he learned to harness his power. He had been useful to him as an intermediary with the people and as an administrator to his growing kingdom. But he was still an Eifen – the same breed of people that spawned Haustis.

  “I keep him because it pleases me to have him do the work of a clerk; and because by my side, I know where he is at all times.”

  The last, Wynter thought, was probably more-true than the rest. The question of what to do with Nethyal would require more thought, but for now, Wynter knew, he remained useful.

  Throwing off his traveling cloak, Wynter surveyed his great hall and looked at the Fourteen Pillars of Solwyn. The ice, he noted, had lost some of its clarity around the edges, and had taken on a tinge of the blue-green that made up the rest of the structure. But still, the faces of the Fourteen could be seen clearly and he went to their leader in the first pillar by the great doors and placed his hand on the pillar of ice and spoke slowly and deliberately, the words falling unbidden from his mouth as if they had been rehearsed.

  Wynter could see the result he wanted in his mind, and he maintained that focus as he moved from pillar to pillar, invoking a similar mantra to each of the Fourteen before dragging himself to the nearby dais and collapsing on his throne. His bones ached, and his skin felt tight on his face, the burned flesh on his arms tingled – the first sensation he’d felt in them since the blisters had subsided during his march north. His arms and hands were largely scar tissue now, red and bright except for the white line in his forearm where Haustis’ knife had wedged itself. The arm was largely healed thanks to his magic, but his burns would not heal. They were magic burns, he knew, and he would never be rid of them. Looking at his bow by one of the black doors, he doubted if he would ever be able to hold the weapon steady again or endure the force of a drawn arrow.

  Still, Wynter smiled. He had no more need of bows or arrows or any weapon of steel. He had just planted the seeds of his finest work. He was exhausted and in pain and he felt alive because of it. The magic demanded he sleep, and he closed his eyes happily, grateful to be home.

  FORTY

  The journey north was as pleasant as late spring could make it. Lydria, Krieger, Haidrea, Relin, and Branch were all on horseback. They needed time. Getting to Solwyn before Ahlric would require being very fast and lucky, skirting to the northwest past Steven’s Folly before heading north and then northeast toward Solwyn.

  As the group prepared to travel, Krieger determined the bulk of Ahlric’s forces were already on the road and Eifynar would be the first to feel the army pass.

  “We must help them.” Haidrea said it plainly and without emotion, as a prudent course of action.

  “We cannot help them,” Krieger replied. “I have sent word to Wae Ilsit to move his people from that place at first sign of Ahlric moving. That was done before the message of Ahlric’s movement came to me. If Ahlric chooses to fight the Eifen and Wae Ilsit sees fit, he will stall the army for as long as his warriors are able. I believe, however, that he will choose a better course and leave the town. We may yet meet him upon our road, but our road is what we must follow.”

  The trail the group had to follow was not easy. They were on the western bank of the lake south and west of Steven’s Folly. They would have to move through the woods, avoid the soldiers of the Folly and make their way across the flatlands to the north toward the Cobalt Tower, and Wynter.

  They traveled quickly, knowing they would have to travel long hours with short rest. Ahlric’s army would be in no hurry, knowing their force would overpower the northerners easily. They would travel slowly, gathering with wagon trains, and equipment each night. Starting each morning would be a long affair in the best of circumstances. Only small groups like Lydria’s moved quickly. But still, they traveled through the forest, whereas the army would travel through open land and perhaps on roads.

  The canopy of trees had not yet filled in completely and some light made its way to the forest floor allowing the companions to see well into the distance. Kimi ran ahead looking for soldiers and suggesting paths to Lydria who rode at the head of the column with Krieger by her side.

  During their first day, Branch informed them of the routes normally taken by soldiers from the Folly as they scouted around the fort. They were rarely more than a half-day’s march from the safety of the outpost, and rarely in groups larger than two.

  “You’re saying they won’t openly attack us then,” Krieger surmised. “But, being seen is as dangerous as being confronted, and we don’t know what changes have been made in the routine of the outpost. We will need to travel further west of the fort to ensure we are unseen.”

  They urged their mounts forward stopping briefly for sleep and to rest their horses. Within two days, Branch judged they were west of the fort and nearly out of the area where patrols might ride. Krieger looked to Lydria who told Kimi to start heading to the northeast. Several days later, Kimi called an unexpected stop.

  “Lydria, there is something in front of our path.”

  The cat let out a small growl to let Lydria and the rest of the company know he was with them. “These are not men of the outpost, but Eifen and mixed among them a more familiar smell I can’t quite place. They have passed this way earlier today and are still moving.�
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  Lydria relayed the information to Krieger as the rest of the group listened a horse length behind. “I will go,” Haidrea said. “If they are Eifen, it would be best that they see me first.”

  The warrior waited for no response or permission but moved ahead and opened her horse’s gait to catch whomever might be in front of them.

  Before Lydria could form the words, she heard Kimi’s voice in her head, “I will go too – and get ahead of her.”

  The rest of the group moved on, remaining behind until they could learn more from either Kimi or Haidrea. When several hours had passed with no word, Krieger stopped and dismounted.

  “We may as well take the opportunity to refill our water, feed the horses and eat,” he said. He didn’t need to explain their situation. Lydria understood that given their circumstances, a long, fast road might be in their future. It was wise to rest while they could.

  They tended to their horses before sitting in a circle that allowed each to keep a watch on a different piece of the forest. They ate in relative silence, broken only by a short word of gratitude to Lydria for heating their food with magic – saving them time and the smoke from a fire.

  Lydria was still trying to make sense of her ability to use magic in these small ways and feel no effects. It had taken her months of unconsciousness doing a single task to become so proficient. It made her shudder to think of what a person who was willing to dedicate the time and pain necessary to master such power could accomplish. They went to their bedrolls silently and drifted off slowly.

  Lydria had first watch and as the deepest part of night passed and the moon shone high in the sky, she felt a familiar tingle that told her Kimi was trying to reach her but was too far away.

  “Krieger. Get up. Kimi is coming. I don’t know what message he brings.”