The Wizards' War

by Angela Holder

  Benarre’s gaze followed his finger. Elkan knew he’d be able to see the large rectangle of the Hall rising above the rest of Elathir’s buildings. “That will do. Take us there.”

  As Hanion led them ashore, Josiah and Sar let the window collapse. “He pulled it off.”

  Elkan nodded. “He’s bought us the time we need. Now we have to move. It’s a long way to Korisan.”

  They caught up to the slowest of the refugees not far from the outskirts of the city. Elderly folk, families carrying young children, the weak and lame and injured. Elkan ached to stop and help every one of them, but limited their aid to a few with twisted ankles or other quickly healed injuries. Enough watchers and able-bodied volunteers had stayed back to assist the rest.

  They pushed on through increasingly thick traffic. When folk saw their cloaks and the familiars, they moved aside to let the wizards pass, murmuring thanks and encouragement. Otherwise they would have made little progress through the mass of humanity trudging through the night.

  If these narrow back ways were this crowded, what were the main roads like? He hated the thought of the chaos he’d brought to so many people’s lives with a few hasty commands. Were they really better off out here, hungry and tired and without shelter, than back in Elathir under Commodore Benarre’s rule? He thought so, but the question tormented him every time he paused to heal a vomiting child or an elder’s blistered feet.

  By dawn they’d passed the bulk of the refugees. They found a farmhouse he remembered from the year before, home of one of the farmers whose wheat field they had healed. The woman welcomed them eagerly, gave them food, and encouraged them to refresh themselves and snatch a few hours sleep.

  As they waited for their turns in the privy, Elkan pulled Josiah aside. “When we reach the ford and turn north toward Korisan, I want you and Sar to keep following the Tarath. If you stick to the river you should be able to reach Shalinthan in just over a week.”

  Josiah stared at him. “Only us, master?”

  “I can’t spare anyone else to go with you.” He’d agonized over the decision, but Josiah was clearly the best person for the job. And this mission might prove marginally safer for his apprentice than continuing to Korisan, where the gathering forces were certain to draw the Ramunnans’ attention eventually. “Meira knows and trusts you. You saw the Armada’s weapons and watched how they used them. You’re more likely than anyone else I know to be able to figure out how it works, how to duplicate it, how to make enough of them quickly enough, how to manufacture the blasting powder in sufficient quantities…” The impossible magnitude of the task overwhelmed him for a moment. When he could speak again, he said, “I’m staking our hopes on you and Meira.”

  “Yes, master,” Josiah whispered. He lifted his chin and mustered a decent imitation of his usual confident grin. “You can count on us!”

  “I know I can. Do as much as you need to in Shalinthan, but bring your work to Korisan when you can. The more we can do closer to Elathir, the better.”

  “That makes sense.”

  Elkan forced himself to continue. Josiah deserved to know what awaited him. “Meira might not want to come to Korisan. She and I had a disagreement the night before we left Shalinthan.” He’d done his best to put that excruciating conversation firmly in the past, but the memory burned as fresh as if it had happened yesterday. “She expressed interest in pursuing a relationship. I rejected her advances. I tried to be as kind as I could, but I know I hurt her.”

  He’d expected Josiah to be more surprised. His apprentice only nodded earnestly. Had the emotions he’d tried desperately to conceal been so obvious even Josiah had noticed? Elkan raked his fingers through his hair, grimacing at how dirty it was and how long it would likely be before he could properly tend it. “Tell her I’m sorry. Tell her we can’t let our personal feelings prevent us from doing everything we can to save Tevenar. Tell her… whatever it takes to get her cooperation.”

  “I will,” Josiah promised. The last of the others came out of the privy, and Josiah trotted over to take his turn.

  Elkan crossed his arms and stared across the gently waving wheat field toward the northwest horizon. Somewhere in that direction Meira was going about her normal routine, unaware of what was about to descend on her. Was she waking right now, preparing for a day of working in the mine, kissing Ravid good-bye? Meira’s son was two; his birthday had been in late winter. His father had been dead for two and a half years.

  The messengers Elkan had sent with news of the Armada’s attack couldn’t have reached Shalinthan yet. When they did, what would she think? Would she blame him, as Hanion did, for provoking the Matriarch? Or would she accept that he’d done his best, that nothing could have prevented this?

  Would she agree to give Master Noadiah’s notes to Josiah? Would she work with him to develop those bare bones of knowledge into an effective weapon? Would she come with Josiah to Korisan, knowing Elkan would be there?

  He ached to see her again, to wrap his arms around her, to take back everything he’d said that awful night. Yet he dreaded seeing her, because what he’d said then remained true. It didn’t matter how either of them felt. It didn’t matter what had grown between them during the months he’d spent escorting her through the mountains to her home. It didn’t matter that she’d woken his heart to possibilities he’d been certain he’d never consider again.

  He was no more free to love her now then he’d been then. Less. The future of Tevenar depended on him dedicating every last scrap of energy and focus to defeating the Ramunnans. He couldn’t afford to be distracted by complicated emotions.

  And beyond those considerations was the hard truth: he wasn’t meant to love. His marriage had proven that. He’d nearly destroyed Liand; he wasn’t about to do the same to Meira. He’d told her as much, but she hadn’t really understood. Even Master Dabiel had never understood the full truth.

  His love for Liand had been huge, overwhelming, uncontrollable. In his youth and naiveté he’d thought that a good thing. He’d surrendered to it completely. And then everything had gone wrong. His possessive jealousy had driven him to do something terrible, something so cruel he couldn’t think of it even now without acute shame. He hated the person love had made him.

  So when he’d realized he was beginning to feel the same kind of love for Meira, as strong as he ever had for Liand, he’d fought it. He’d kept an iron grip on his emotions. He’d had Sar use the Mother’s power to moderate his body’s desires. He’d counted the days until he could deliver her safely home and leave her behind forever.

  But it hadn’t been enough. Meira must have become aware of his feelings for her and wondered why he didn’t pursue them. He’d caught her looking at him more and more frequently as they approached Shalinthan. He’d always turned away.

  In the end she’d come to him, confessed her attraction, and asked if he returned it. He hadn’t quite been able to lie and deny his feelings, but he’d done everything he could to drive her away. He’d told her about what he’d done to Liand. He’d been brutally honest about his need to always put his wizardry first. And when none of that had dissuaded her, he’d had no choice but to bluntly refuse her.

  Now Tevenar might pay the price for his inability to control his emotions. If Meira had been so hurt by his rejection that she withheld Master Noadiah’s notes or refused to help Josiah use them, they’d have very little hope of driving the Ramunnans out.

  He believed she’d be able to overcome their personal history for Tevenar’s sake. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have asked Josiah to undertake the long trek to Shalinthan. But if she answered his call and came to Korisan, the coming months would be horribly uncomfortable for both of them. All he could do was resolve to keep his distance as much as possible and treat her with reserved courtesy when they were forced to work together. Then when all this was over one way or the other, he could resume his normal life of service to the Mother, and she could go home, free of any entanglement with him that could o
nly cause her pain.

  Six

  Josiah searched the road ahead as he came over the crest of the hill. All that met his eyes was more of the same rolling farm fields and pastureland they’d been traveling through all day. From what Elkan had told him they should be nearly to Jevtaran, but there was still no sign of the town.

  “You don’t think we’re lost, do you?” He didn’t see how they could be. The road roughly followed the south bank of the Tarath. The river was out of sight at the moment, but they’d seen it often enough in the two days since they’d parted with Elkan and the others that he was pretty sure they hadn’t made a wrong turn somewhere.

  We’re not lost. Sar paused to snatch a big mouthful of thick green grass from between the wagon ruts.

  “That’s easy for you to say. You’ve got all the food you could want growing underfoot. I don’t get to eat until we reach Jevtaran.” In the interest of traveling lightly and quickly he’d chosen to only bring a few rations, planning to obtain food from farms and villages along the way. There had been fewer of those than he’d expected, and some of them were deserted. Presumably their inhabitants had gotten word of the gathering in Korisan and had set off to join the army Elkan was going to build, like many other groups of men and women they’d passed. They’d been forced to camp last night, and he’d exhausted the last of his bread and cheese that morning. He squinted into the distance, hoping to see a plume of smoke beyond the next rise in the road, but there was nothing.

  Motion caught his eye where a stone bridge arched over a narrow stream at the low point of the valley. A figure stood there, wildly waving its arms.

  He waved back. “Come on, Sar. Somebody needs help.” He quickened his pace to a trot.

  The figure gave a final wave in acknowledgement, then crouched at the side of the road. As they drew close, Josiah saw it was a girl near his own age. She was hovering over a boy who huddled in the grass, coughing weakly.

  The girl darted out to meet them, her eyes lighting up with painful hope when she saw his cloak. “You’re a wizard? Thank the Mother! I thought Dari was going to die out here. Can you help him?”

  “I hope so.” Josiah slapped his hand on Sar’s back; the donkey sent the Mother’s power flooding over the boy.

  The problem was evident right away. The tissues in the boy’s throat were swollen and the muscles in his chest were spasming, interfering with his ability to breathe. From his blue lips and the way he was fighting to suck in air, Josiah realized the girl’s fears weren’t exaggerated. He really might have died if Josiah and Sar hadn’t come along.

  Sar pushed the excess fluid away and induced the cramped muscles to relax, allowing Dari to take a deep breath. He gasped, then coughed violently as they continued working to keep the muscles loose and ease the inflammation. Josiah looked for the tiny sparks of foreign life that characterized an infectious disease. When he didn’t find any, he was pretty sure of his diagnosis.

  He helped the boy sit up straighter. “Just breathe for a few minutes.” At Dari’s resigned nod, he asked, “Has this happened to you before?”

  “Yeah.” He looked away. “Every spring it gets bad.” He pointed to a thick stand of bushes near the stream. “It’s those. Ragweed. The pollen makes me sneeze, then I start coughing, and then I can’t breathe.”

  “It’s called asthma,” Josiah told him.

  “That’s what the wizards in Jevtaran said. Mother makes me stay in town so I’ll be near them. I’ve never gotten to work a planting. What kind of farmer does that make me?” He started coughing again.

  The girl stared at him, horrified. “I had no idea it was so bad. Why didn’t you tell me? I never would have let you come with me.”

  Dari shook his head ruefully. “I didn’t want to let you go alone.” He struggled to his feet. “It hasn’t been as bad this year. They told me I might outgrow it; I thought maybe I had. I want to join the defense in Korisan, too.”

  The girl bit her lip and looked longingly down the road in the direction Josiah and Sar had come. “It’s not worth risking your life for.”

  “We’ll both be risking our lives if we fight the Ramunnans.” The boy turned to Josiah and extended his hand. “I’m Dari Farmerkin Farmer.”

  Josiah had to remember to use the Tevenaran-style handclasp instead of the Ramunnan version he’d gotten used to. “Josiah Potterkin Wizard.”

  The girl gave him her hand in turn. “Rovia Herderkin Herder.” She scowled. “I suppose you’re going to make us go home.”

  Josiah looked back and forth between the two of them. “Dari probably should. I grew up in Korisan; there’s lots of ragweed there, and I’ve seen a bunch along the road. But Elkan is going to need as many people as he can get if we’re going to drive the Ramunnans out.”

  Rovia’s eyes lit up. “You know about the plans to fight?”

  “Yeah. Elkan’s my master. He’s in charge.”

  “Tell us what’s going on,” Dari insisted. “The last we heard was from the messenger that went through two days ago, and all he said was that the Ramunnans had captured Elathir and everyone we could spare should report to Korisan for training.”

  Josiah regaled his eager listeners with an account of the battle and its aftermath. He spoke briefly of his own mission, although he didn’t specify what he hoped to find in Shalinthan. Both Dari and Rovia regarded him with envy.

  When he was done, Rovia scowled. “People from all around are gathering in Jevtaran, getting ready to leave for Korisan tomorrow. But the town council decided only sixth-year apprentices and up are allowed to go. Dari and I are both fifth.” She clenched her fists. “If I were only one month older I’d be able to go with them.”

  Dari took her hand. “So we decided to sneak off. We thought with all the chaos we could get a good head start before we were missed. We’ll lie about our ages if we have to, but I don’t think they’ll turn us away once we get there. The wizards took their fourth- and fifth-year apprentices when they left.”

  “That’s because we need everyone who’s bonded to a familiar. We’re going to be using the Mother’s power a lot.” Josiah studied them. “Elkan didn’t set any age restrictions. If you’re willing to work hard and not get in trouble, he’ll welcome you.

  “Of course we are,” Rovia declared. She picked up a long staff topped by a sharp iron spike from the grass beside their packs. “I’ve been herding cattle since I could walk. I’m not scared of a few Ramunnans!” She deflated suddenly. “But I guess if it’s not safe for Dari to make the trip, I won’t either.” She smiled at Dari, but Josiah could see she was unhappy at the prospect.

  “Do you think you could catch up with the Jevtaran wizards?” Josiah asked Dari. “They could take care of you if you have any more attacks while you travel. And there will be lots of wizards in Korisan.” Although Josiah doubted Elkan would thank him for sending him someone who would demand attention and energy that should be spent fighting the Ramunnans.

  “I doubt it. They left yesterday afternoon. They’ve probably reached the ferry and crossed the Tarath by now. You didn’t pass them, did you?”

  Josiah shook his head.

  Dari’s shoulders sagged. “I don’t see any help for it. I’m going to have to turn around and go home.” He took Rovia’s hands. “But that doesn’t mean you have to.”

  She looked torn. “I don’t want to leave you.”

  “It won’t be for long.” Dari quirked a smile at her. “We can’t stand up together for nearly three more years, anyway. With your help the wizards will defeat the Ramunnans long before then. I bet you’ll be back before Harvest.”

  Rovia shifted her shoulders. “It probably wouldn’t hurt to give our families some time to calm down.”

  “Very true.” Dari turned to Josiah. “What do you think?”

  “I think it’s a great idea.” He put as much enthusiasm as he could into his voice. Rovia would obviously be a valuable fighter. Just as obviously, Dari would be a liability. “Lots of people are on the
ir way to Korisan. I bet you could find a group to join before long. And even if you don’t, the roads are safe. I haven’t had any trouble.”

  “See?” Dari squeezed her hands. “Go. I’ll be fine. Josiah will walk with me back to town. Won’t you?”

  “Of course.”

  Rovia wavered for another moment, then threw her arms around Dari. “Thank you. You don’t know how much this means to me.”

  “I think I do.” Dari was grinning, but his eyes were bleak. “Just promise you’ll come back.”

  “Of course I will!” They kissed, hard and passionate. Josiah looked away, his face hot.

  After what seemed a long time they broke apart. Rovia snatched up her pack and slung it on her back. “Tell my uncle and my mother and father I said good-bye.”

  “If they let me get close enough to speak without chasing me off with cattle prods.” Dari made a face; Rovia gave a choked-sounding laugh. Dari stepped back. “I love you. Take care of yourself. Now go.”

  “I love you.” Rovia stared at him for a desperate instant, then whirled and strode down the road.

  Dari stood motionless, watching her until she disappeared over the rise. He gave a long sigh and turned to Josiah. With forced cheerfulness, he said, “I guess we’d better get going, too.” He picked up his pack and shouldered it heavily.

  Josiah wanted to assure Dari that Rovia would be fine, but the words stuck in his throat, blocked by memories of the roar of the Ramunnans’ weapons and the image of dead bodies littering the water around sinking Tevenaran ships. Rovia would be facing a ruthless enemy. It was all too possible Dari might never see her again.

  Instead, as they set off toward Jevtaran he asked, “What was that about her family? Why don’t they like you?”

  “It’s not me personally. They hate all members of the Farmers’ Guild.”

  “What?” Josiah gave him a baffled look. “Why?”

  Dari looked intrigued. “Is it true that in other parts of Tevenar herders and farmers get along? I’ve heard it, but I’ve always had a hard time believing it. Around Jevtaran, a herder would rather see her daughter stand up with one of their cows than with a farmer. And farmers aren’t any better. When Mother finds out I was running off with a herder…” He shuddered. “I might have been better off taking my chances with the ragweed.”