by Karen MacRae
Pyteor warmed his hands by the fire and looked at the still form of the weather mage. “Damn that coward. We’d be better off without him.”
“That coward has Nystrieth’s ear and our master is never wrong,” the warrior reminded him.
The reprimand was too subtle. “I don’t get why we’re here anyway. All the action is going to be on the Mastran border and we’re stuck in this backwater?” he continued, his mouth almost pouting in disappointment at missing out on the bloodshed in Mastra.
Elona watched the honesty and disappointment swell through his aura and smiled. He was such a fool to think a moment of shared laughter made her his friend. She had his hand locked in hers before he could even flinch. She twisted it the wrong way and heard him stutter confused apologies for speaking out of turn. Fear replaced the disappointment in his aura as Elona took his wrist and arm to breaking point, relishing his pain, revelling in the excitement that spread through her body. She wished she could take it further, but he was useful and the Healer’s capacity was running low. She let him go.
Pyteor rubbed at his wrist. “I meant no offence, Reader,” he muttered.
“You’ll not question our master in my presence. Do you understand?”
He nodded his obedience.
“I have no qualms about killing you if you’re disloyal. In fact, I will take great pleasure in it.”
He looked at her smile and knew she spoke the truth. He moved his near-broken arm across his chest to thump his heart with his throbbing fist. His face remained stoic despite the pain. “I am true to my master. Nystrieth is God,” he intoned passionately.
Elona mirrored the action. “Nystrieth is God,” she replied by rote. “Now, let’s consider how we are to explain the loss of two blades and more than half of our gold with nothing to show for it. We’re meeting Sesi soon. Our master will want to know.”
“Much of the gold went to the agent in Straton to protect the smuggling route and to kill the ginger. He went against instructions in deciding to send the spy to the prison mines instead. He claims he wanted to maximise Finn’s suffering, that he intended to arrange for his death later. Unfortunately, we missed all of this by just a day; too late to stop it.”
“Acceptable,” Elona nodded. “Continue.”
“Mystrim intends to return to show Grayson just how unimpressed he is when our master has won this war and the smuggling route is no longer needed. The agent has a younger sister…”
Elona grunted her understanding. “How did Finn’s sidekicks get on his trail?”
“Grayson must have been indiscreet?”
“It’s the most likely explanation, but how did you come to use the outlaws?”
“The prison caravan was heavily guarded. We didn’t have the resources to take them on and Finn’s head is valuable to our enemy and our master. His helpers are also of value. Mystrim decided to use the gangs.”
Elona smiled. “Yes, it was Mystrim’s decision. I wasn’t yet in this wretched country and you were merely following the orders of a superior.”
“Mystrim put a bounty on Spider and Syrano’s heads. He also persuaded two of the local outlaws to swear an oath to use a crested blade. We found the first carrier’s body the next day. The blade was gone. The second survived. He swore that he stabbed the Seaskian in the heart, but I saw the giant still swinging that axe afterwards. Our man must have missed and the cheater’s Health gift healed him.”
Elona held up a hand to stop the man. She examined the possibility. The Seaskian’s gift might slow the effect of a crested blade, but there was no way it could save him. He must have had help and from no ordinary Healer. It had to be the girl. Her conclusion astounded her. The White was more powerful than she appeared.
“Continue,” she told Pyteor.
“I don’t know what more I can add.”
“How did Finn manage to escape?”
Pyteor’s aura flushed with guilt. She could see him preparing to evade having to make a comprehensive answer. “Mystrim had generated a full storm and blocked the sun with dark clouds. It was difficult to see anything in the murkiness. It was noisy too. Lots of fighting, people screaming, blood flowing, that sort of thing...” His voice wavered as he watched Elona’s face harden.
She’d seen excitement ripple through his aura as he recalled the fight. He’d been distracted by the thrill of watching the pain and death of others. She could understand it, but it was unforgivable in the circumstances. There had better be no further mistakes of this kind if he wished to survive this mission. “You put personal pleasure ahead of your master’s wishes.”
“I did. I accept whatever punishment you deem suitable.” Pyteor hung his head as shame swept through his aura.
“It’s not for me to assess. You must confess to Sesi and ask our master’s forgiveness.”
Pyteor swallowed hard, but his eyes gleamed with the fervour of a true zealot and he nodded his acceptance of her order. He thought for a moment then offered a sacrificial pawn. “The White has caused us some difficulty…”
Elona’s eyes narrowed. He wished to blame everything on the White? The idea had some merit, but Nystrieth would be livid if the girl turned out to be nothing of consequence and they’d pay dearly for exaggerating her influence and wasting his time. On the other hand, if the White was powerful, they might be punished for her very existence. A double-edged sword.
Pyteor continued in a rush. “Mystrim swears she was Shaping. He can’t think of any other gift that would allow someone to knock people out from a distance although neither of us can fathom why she would knock an enemy out rather than kill them if she’s a true Shaper. But it wasn’t Spider or Syrano and it certainly wasn’t Finn. There might have been other gifted in the caravan, but it’d happened before, when she was there. It has to be her.”
Elona snapped a reply without thinking. “She’s a White, you idiot. Of course she won’t kill if she doesn’t have to. They’re like Healers. They can’t help themselves. Weak fools.”
“So she’s definitely a Shaper? Shouldn’t we let our master know?”
Elona nodded. She spoke as if granting a great honour. “We meet with Sesi in five days. You may tell Nystrieth about the White.”
Pyteor breathed his thanks to her. She smiled internally. He was such a fool. He would lose whatever the outcome.
CHAPTER 15
A nna and the King’s men were eating dinner when they heard noisy footsteps closing on the camp. The men’s hands went straight for their weapons. Anna was slower but had her right hand firmly about her staff before a scrawny old man and boy appeared at the camp’s edge, the boy acting almost as a crutch. The light was dwindling, but it was enough for her to see their auras. They were malnourished and a mass of grey smudges and smears from numerous beatings.
“Hail the camp,” wheezed the old man. “We’re unarmed. We saw your light and hoped to share your fire.”
“We’re really hungry,” the boy whined.
Anna could see their words were truthful, but there was an edge of untruth to their auras. They weren’t telling all. She glanced at Spider. His face showed he was also unsure of the pair.
Finn looked to them both, then stood, holding out his arms in welcome. “We are always happy to have friends at our fire. Tomas, a bowl of stew for both of our guests!”
The use of Sy’s pseudonym reassured Anna that Finn had understood her anxious glance. She was certain he had when she saw him pulse his gift at the incomers. When he walked over to take the boy’s burden from him, the two looked at him with near hero-worship.
“Thank you, mister,” breathed the boy.
“You’re too kind,” said the man in a tearful voice.
“Come, sit and eat while you tell us all about what you had planned for this evening,” said Finn with a friendly smile.
Sy put brimming bowlfuls of stew into the duo’s hands.
The boy began to dunk bread into the rich gravy then burst into tears. “It’s not right, o’papa. W
e can’t do this.”
The old man looked anxiously at Finn. “She’ll kill them.”
“Don’t you worry about it, o’papa. Enjoy your food then tell us all about it. We’ll try to help, if we can.”
The two wan faces lit up at the taste of Sy’s stew. “By the light, I’ve never had anything this good before,” the old man murmured in wonder. Sy passed more crusty bread for them to sop up the gravy and the bowls were empty in record time.
The old man grabbed Finn’s hands and knelt in front of him. “Have mercy on us? We wish you no harm. We’ve no choice,” he sobbed.
Finn looked at Anna over the man’s head.
“He tells the truth,” she told him quietly.
He looked at the man who wept before him. “It’s all right, old friend,” he said gently. “Tell us your story.”
“We carry poison. My grandson offers to make drinks and then we rob the dead and take the spoils to our mistress and her gang. She holds my wife and my daughter, the boy’s mother. We’re rewarded with food when we return and we forage what we can while we’re out, but the women do without while we’re gone so we don’t tarry… We’re always hungry, but the women are starving.”
Anna didn’t need to see Finn’s aura to know he was furious at this injustice. His face spoke volumes.
“How did this happen to you?” Spider asked.
The old man looked at Finn before answering. Finn nodded at him. “Willem is a friend. You can tell him.”
“We were travelling south. I had a promise of work in Sienna. We’d stayed at an inn every night but the one she captured us. An adventure for the lad to sleep under the stars, I’d thought. We believed the King had swept the forests clear of hoodlums.” He shook his head. “Now we all pay for my foolishness.”
“It appears our forests are being overrun by foreign criminals. You weren’t to know,” Finn said kindly. He looked at the rest of his team. “Well?” he asked.
“We don’t really have time, but…” Sy began.
“We can’t leave them like this,” was Spider’s firm contribution.
Finn turned to Anna and she saw her aura was burning a brilliant red. She allowed the fury to show on her face.
He turned to the old man. “Tell us more about this woman and her gang.”
Within the hour, the strategy was determined, the camp was packed up and a skinny donkey had been retrieved from the forest. “Poor Simeon,” the old man sniffed. “He’s starving too.”
“He’ll eat like a King tonight, o’papa,” Finn promised.
Sy lifted the boy to sit before him and the old man led the way on Simeon the donkey. Blue, Hope, Estrell and Rojoch followed behind.
It took more than three hours to reach the colossal tor that protected the back of the outlaw’s permanent camp. Anna followed o’papa on foot to the end of a narrow escape route which wound over and around the huge mound and the others got comfortable to wait the agreed half hour for Anna to near the top.
When it was time to go, Sy handed the boy a bag of coins and a dagger to stuff inside his rags then lifted him on top of Simeon while Finn draped himself over Blue’s neck as if dying. Taking Blue’s reins in his hand, the boy urged the donkey over every dry twig and branch he could find, Spider and Sy making their way quietly on foot alongside. The thick trees and the dark light kept the men invisible to watching eyes, the noise of the breaking wood, the donkey’s regular braying and the inevitable woodland creatures’ warning cries masking any errant footsteps.
Anna soon realised they’d underestimated how long it would take her to climb the tor. It was almost mountainous in its incline and massive stones reduced the path to less than a handspan in places. It was completely blocked in others and she had to retrace her steps and find another route. The old man had given up only a quarter of the way. She’d left him resting and continued on, but it took a full hour to finally get to the top. It had been spent more on all fours than on two feet; her knees and hands were badly grazed and she had managed to put her teeth through her lip during one fall. She’d cried out once and frozen in place, dreading discovery, but she could hear laughter and singing from the camp and no sound of curiosity at her outburst so she carried on, wiping the tang of blood from her mouth with the corner of her shirt.
Jeering and laughter was followed by a high-pitched roar for silence when Finn and the boy arrived in the camp. The gang obeyed their leader’s command instantly and a solitary woman’s voice broke the air. Anna couldn’t hear what was being said and forced her legs and arms to move quicker, terrified she’d be too late. After what seemed an eternity, she crawled over the final block of stone.
As the old man had promised, an enormous fire dominated the centre of the camp, lighting up the whole area. Anna couldn’t have wished for better. In front of the fire, she could see the boy cowering in front of a dark-haired, dark-skinned woman dripping with jewellery who tossed a bag of coins in her hand. He didn’t resist as his hated mistress pushed his face into the dirt and pressed down with her foot, her gang laughing at his discomfort. Finn was lying sprawled further over, next to the fire, his eyes closed, but his aura still shining through multiple dark patches. An outlaw stood over him, a blade in each hand.
Anna quickly looked around the camp to locate every aura she needed to Shape. She saw the prisoners chained up near a solitary spreading tree. They were little better than skeletons and covered with injuries and her heart screamed with sorrow and anger that someone could inflict this kind of misery on another human being. Amongst them, two women clung to each other, sobbing at the arrival of just the boy and not his o’papa too.
She latched onto the prisoner’s auras and the boy with his face still in the dirt and very gently pushed them to sleep, fully aware that it would take hardly anything to kill these poor souls. Sure they were all safely asleep, she grabbed the gangsters’ auras and pushed without such mercy. They would all wake, but it would take several days before their lights returned to normal.
She watched the mastermind behind this evil stop dead as her followers fell to the ground and deathly silence ensued. She spun in a circle, looking for the source of the attack. Bewilderment and then terror swamped her aura and she fell to her knees, crying out for mercy. “Forgive me, master. Nystrieth is God. Nystrieth is God. I am yours, master. I am yours. Forgive me.”
The woman lied, but her fear was real. She believed Nystrieth had killed her gang and was about to torture and kill her. The screams became hysterical. Anna could bear it no longer. She pushed the woman’s aura and watched her fall to the ground.
The journey down the tor was easier than the journey up. Anna collected the old man from his resting place and led him down to where Hope, Estrell and Rojoch waited. She helped him up onto Estrell and they made their way around to the camp’s entrance. They arrived to find Spider and Sy lining up unconscious outlaws and amassing a huge haul of valuables and weaponry. Finn had taken a nasty beating, but was up and moving, stirring a huge pot of stew that simmered by the fire. The prisoners had all been made as comfortable as possible near the warmth. They still slept.
The old man leapt from Estrell in a panic when he saw his family. Anna had warned him that he’d find them sleeping, but he didn’t understand how they could be so still and not be dead. He rushed over to them and his mouth opened in wonder at the sight of the prisoners’ chests gently moving up and down in harmony. He fell at Finn’s feet, weeping. “They’ll be free? You promise?”
Finn looked over at the Aura Shaper, still sitting astride a stationary Hope, her hand grasping the white staff. The firelight illuminated her in reds and oranges almost brighter than the sun; the staff and the birthmark reflecting the light like liquid snakeskin. He knew awe for the first time in his life. She was truly extraordinary. “You’ll all be free. I promise,” he replied, his words for the old man, but his eyes seeking assurance from the girl.
She watched the red swirls quieten in her reflected aura until it flared white once
more then gently put the old man into a peaceful sleep. She dismounted and made her way to the prisoners. She knelt by each one in turn. Touching them lightly, she drew every hurt they carried into the crystal hung around her neck but left them sleeping. She felt tears wet her cheeks. She wept for the agony these people had endured for weeks and months. There were so many injuries that her crystal was getting full. She knew she’d have to replace it soon.
Finally, she made her way over to Finn and held out a hand without touching him. “You’re hurt. Let me Heal you.”
He paused for a brief moment then stepped forward, his hand touching hers. She saw her aura flush with warmth at his acceptance before he turned his eyes away from her to reveal his black-stained sea-green. She channelled the black towards her crystal. It was its final effort. It turned milky white: full. She left it hanging around her neck anyway, only too aware that she might need to reverse it at some point.
“They’re all unconscious?” Finn asked, breaking into her thoughts.
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“I’m not sure to be honest, but the prisoners will wake first. I’ve left a suggestion with them that they take a horse each, some food and gold and hightail it out of here before the outlaws wake.”
“You’re confident you can Shape the outlaws?”
“If you show me where.”
“I don’t know what’ll happen. If you can’t see it then you’ll have to get Spider or Sy to swear too.” At her nod, Finn closed his eyes so his aura changed to sea green. He reached inside his shirt for an ornate medallion and held it tightly in his right hand. With an intense sincerity, Finn swore the King’s Oath: “My life for the Kingdom. My life for the King.”
Anna watched the sea green flush with gold which imploded into a tiny, fierce golden spot that rushed straight to Finn’s heart. It was very like his Friending, but much more intense. She reached out with her mind for the minute golden circle she knew was there and tenderly eased it into an unused stone in her multi-coloured crystal necklace. “It’s done. You might want to say the oath again. I tried to be gentle, but I might have removed more than one.”
