The Way of the Power (10 page)

He paused long enough to focus off to the right. Malja followed his gaze. A wreet skittered across the dirt and found safety beneath a grouping of stones. She kept her eyes on that spot, wondering if White Streak had scared that wreet, but they rode by the spot without further incident.

Stray eased back. “The man we had picked to mug was old — long, white beard; wrinkled, dark skin; dull, narrow eyes. I didn’t think he’d be able to see us coming. We moved in, and this little, frail elderly man proceeded to beat me bloody. I’d never felt punches like that before. Those iron hard kind of punches that knock the wind from your lungs and make further breathing painful for hours. You know?”

“All too well.”

“Well, something happened in my head. Like a personal sun had broken the darkness inside me and shined hard on my face. As this old man walked away, I crawled behind him, begging for him to teach me to fight like that. He said he wouldn’t waste his time since I wouldn’t last. I promised him I’d never quit. He told me to prove it. So, for the next year, I acted as his personal slave. Anything asked of me, I did. Thankfully, he wasn’t a deviant like my foster father, but I’m not ashamed to admit that if he had asked, I would have gone to bed with him. Anything to learn how to fight like he could.”

“Am I correct that this old man actually worked for the Artisoll?”

“He was a Holy Man, and I wouldn’t word it as you say, but that’s the idea. I’ll explain that another time. What I want you to understand with all this is that I’ve lived a harsh, strong life, one that made me colder to my emotions than most people. Then I met a man who trained and educated me to become one of the Artisoll’s elite protectors — the Drukrull. That coldness in me protects me from the lure of the Artisoll.”

“The lure?”

“She is a vessel filled with all the magic of an entire world, and at the moment, she has very limited control of it. This magic pours out of her like a boiling cauldron spewing out steam. It’s another way she is protected. Her magic turns those around her into slaves of a sort — at times, utilizing their most important qualities to keep the Artisoll healthy and strong; at times, reducing them into slobbering fools. Your two men have already succumbed to her. They can’t help themselves. But her power doesn’t influence one like me. That’s one of the key qualities of a Drukrull. We wouldn’t be effective protectors if we were stuck fawning over her the whole time. You understand? Your men are not in their right minds.”

Malja thought the Artisoll influenced Stray more than he realized but she kept silent. Clearly, Fawbry and Tommy had been struck by her magic. But then Tommy had plenty of magic himself. Perhaps he wasn’t under her influence at all. Perhaps he truly felt something for her.

It didn’t seem so far-fetched. They both were capable of powerful magic. They were both silent people. They both didn’t belong wherever they were. The more she considered it, the Artisoll could easily be the best choice for Tommy.

Fawbry, on the other hand, had lost his mind to her magic.

As if he could hear her thoughts, Fawbry twisted his head around and said, “We should be there soon. A few hours, no more.”

Malja pulled up her horse. “Go ahead. I’ll meet up with you later.”

Stray brought his horse back to her. “I can’t go leave the Artisoll out here.”

“That’s why I’m going alone. You keep everybody else safe. I’ll find out who’s following us, and if needed, I’ll take care of it myself.”

Chapter 9

Malja rode Feisty in the opposite direction
from the group. She went at a light trot for a few minutes, then let Feisty unleash, galloping hard for as long as the horse desired. The horse’s exuberance resonated in every hoof thudding into the ground.

Once she thought they had gone sufficiently far and Feisty had decided to slow down, she turned the horse off the path and up along a high ridge of rock formations. From the higher point, she could look back upon a lot of the land at the same time as she worked her way back to the group. She predicted one of two outcomes. If White Streak had a desire for vengeance, it would follow her, and they could fight it out any moment. If White Streak stuck to its orders, then Malja would find the trang-gaul as it continued to shadow the Artisoll. Either way, she would find the creature.

To her surprise, neither prediction came true. Instead, she found several marks in the dirt where White Streak had spied on them, but no White Streak. She took Feisty in all directions around these spots but not once did she find any further signs of her target.

Halting, she pulled up the sleeve of her long coat to reveal part of her do-kha. Harskill had taught her that they could communicate through the do-kha. She had hoped to avoid this, but under the circumstances, it would help to gain more information. Even if Harskill acted evasive, she knew she could glean something useful from him.

The do-kha moved and stretched until it covered her hand. She turned her palm skyward and stared at it. Concentrating on contacting Harskill, she waited and waited.

Nothing.

Either she was doing it wrong or the do-kha couldn’t connect with someone in another universe. The time before, when she had successfully talked with Harskill via the do-kha, they had both been on the Carsite world. She imagined it would be near impossible to talk between universes. Then again, she had seen magic do some impossible things.

Of course, it was possible that Harskill had simply refused to answer her call. Doubtful, though. If he had done all this out of love, as he claimed, then he would be eager to speak with her. And if he had a more malicious intent, he would be eager to gloat.

She lowered her hand. Harskill would have to wait.

As the sun headed towards dusk, she hurried to catch up with the group. A few times, Feisty tried to go back to the free galloping she had enjoyed before, but Malja’s firm hand kept the mare in line. When she approached her friends, a simple shake of her head stopped any queries.

Stray looked as if he had expected the result. “The trang-gaul are trained to rarely be seen and never be found. It is their entire purpose in life.”

A short time later, they reached Cafloden. The place had been a thriving farm with endless acres of tolerable land. However, once the Great Well was discovered and the farms moved into the sky, Cafloden could no longer survive.

The place had become a mass of empty fields with scraps of plant life poking through dead soil. In the center of it all stood the remains of a three-story home. The entire right side of the building had caved in while one corner of the left side looked close to falling.

“It’s not much, but that’s part of why Canto agreed,” Fawbry said as he dismounted.

Hirasa jumped to the ground and smacked her hands together. “It’s not so bad. Plenty of room.”

“Sure. You can have the right side of the house.”

As the others unloaded, took care of the horses, and hauled their few belongings into the house, Malja walked around the outside, counting the numerous security issues and taking note of all the possible attack points. Stray would not be happy with what she saw. Perhaps she could spend the night blocking off some of the vulnerabilities, but with such a large building, she would need a few days to fix it all.

When she reached the charred section of the house, she stopped to inspect the damage. It must have happened long ago — thorny vines had grown through the weakened floorboards and crept all the way to the roof. She would warn Stray to keep the Artisoll away from this section until they could determine whether or not the thorns were poisonous.

Malja paused. Why would she think that? She had saved the Artisoll and felt responsibility toward her because of this, but why were all her thoughts about the safety of the Artisoll? What about the rest of the group?

An unsettling thought grabbed hold of her gut and twisted it hard. Perhaps the Artisoll altered her perceptions as had happened to Fawbry. Malja discounted the idea — she knew she would have walked the perimeter and checked security issues at any location such as this one — especially when in charge of the protection of an individual. Plus, she had her do-kha. Surely it could prevent the Artisoll’s magic influences.

Unless the Artisoll’s magic made Malja think this way.

No. She knew herself, knew her mind, knew that her thoughts were normal for her. But if the Artisoll’s magic behaved as Stray had suggested, then it could be using her normal behavior as a way to guarantee its safety. Except if she would behave the same anyway, then why would this magic attempt to control her?

“I can’t think like this.” The sound of her voice, the feel of it in her throat — these things reminded her that she was real, that she had strength, that she had a job to do.

When she completed her tour of the surroundings, she entered the old house. The front door opened into a room large enough to hold a formal ball. Most of the space was empty save for an enormous staircase that wound up the left side of the room and finished in a long balcony that ran deeper into the second floor. Two oversized doors could be found in the center of the east and west walls. Bits of wood and trash littered the floor — perhaps others had stayed here in the past.

Everybody had dispersed to one room or another, so Malja decided to continue her security check. No doubt Stray had already inspected the interior, but she wanted to do it anyway. She hoped it would help refocus her thoughts.

Walking through the house felt like a dream. The warped wood floor absorbed sounds oddly, creating weird creaks and odd echoes. Some of the room remained fully furnished, caked in dust, and falling apart. Other rooms had been picked clean.

The size of the house spoke plenty about its fate. Malja had counted ten rooms in the first section of the first wing alone. No wonder when farming shifted into the air this place fell apart. The owners had poorly managed their business, overspending on a home and never preparing for disruptions to the way they made their living.

At length, she climbed to the second floor and continued her survey of the house. Passing by one open door, she looked in to find Tommy and the Artisoll on the floor with their hands held palm against palm. All their attention had been absorbed by each other. Malja suspected she could have been battling a grachu in the hall and neither would have noticed.

She squashed the urge to leap in and break them apart. The look on Tommy’s face stopped her a little, but it was the Artisoll that really struck her. The young woman gazed upon Tommy with an expression of equal adoration. As far as Malja could tell, the Artisoll felt something strong for Tommy, too.

Walking further on, Malja passed Fawbry’s room. She could hear him pacing and muttering. Though she couldn’t make out his words, he sounded upset and nervous. When this current state of trouble eased, she would have to talk with him, make sure he was okay. Perhaps the loss of his Sheriff position had hit harder than he led on. Or it could all be because of the Artisoll.

By Kryssta, how was she supposed to make a plan of action if she couldn’t trust that her people’s thoughts and behaviors belonged to them and not to some unchecked magical energy?

Two doors down, Malja caught sight of Lynoya crying while Hirasa consoled her. That much, at least, she could trust as authentic. Odd that neither woman seemed caught under the Artisoll’s power. Could it be that it only worked on males? If so, Malja could trust her own thoughts completely. Since Stray had picked a room on the end, she figured now would be a perfect time to ask him.

When she entered his room, he had one scimitar clenched between his knees while he rolled a gritty rock along its edges. Malja knocked on the wall. “I’ve never seen a sword sharpened like that before.”

Stray continued his work with graceful, practiced motions. “How else would it be done?”

“With a whetstone and a less dangerous way of holding the blade.”

“What’s a whetstone?”

“I’ll show you sometime. I’ve a question — Does the Artisoll’s magic affect women or just men?”

“It’s magic. I assume it touches all in some way. Perhaps not the same way, though. Are you feeling that she is causing you trouble?”

Malja waved off the question. “I’m going outside one more time.”

“Nothing has changed.”

“I’m not tired, so I might as well be useful.”

Leaving no room for further discussion, Malja went downstairs and embraced the cooling night air. She walked two circuits around the house without incident — not even a small animal searching for food. Sniffing the air for signs of an enemy campfire brought nothing. Standing motionless and listening keenly for the slightest wrong noise also bore no fruit.

As she searched for any hint of danger, she couldn’t help but wonder if her actions had been manipulated by the Artisoll. After all, she had spent countless nights holed up in one abandoned building or another. Over the last several years, Fawbry and Tommy had done the same alongside her. She could certainly confirm for herself that during those times, she would always check the security of the place — mostly always. But even when doing so, she never had done it so diligently as she did for the Artisoll.

Stomping away from the house, Malja kicked a stone and huffed.

After a few minutes, she looked back. Because the acreage around the house had been cultivated once, little in the way of trees or Carsite rock protrusions blocked the view. An assassin would have no trouble spying on them from afar. If they were going to stay here long — and she didn’t see why they wouldn’t be for now — they would have to build some fortifications. Everything about the place lacked defense.