shot each Vermin with a Curare-laced dart, ending the fight.
Water wasn’t going to stop the Fire Warper, but with his cohorts neutralized, he
conceded the fight. “Next time, my little bat.” The fire died with a hiss and puff of
oily smoke.
I returned to my body. My limbs felt as if they weighed a thousand pounds each.
Leif helped me to stand on weak legs.
Mrs. Floranne came over. She clutched her apron between her hands and worried
at the fabric. “What should we be doing?”
“Send someone to fetch the city guards. We’ll need help transporting the
prisoners to the Citadel,” I said.
She sent the stable lad.
“Have they all been hit with Curare?” Leif pointed to the prone figures.
I looked at Ferde. He had collapsed in a heap on the floor. “All but one. I’ve
examined his soul, and he won’t be giving us any more trouble.”
“For how long?”
“Forever.”
“Do you think that was wise?” Moon Man asked. His scimitar dripped with
blood and gore, and lacerations crisscrossed his chest. “You could have achieved
the same result without damaging his mind.”
“I—”
Leif jumped to my defense. “Hold on, Mr. Let’s-exterminate-all-the-Vermin Man.
Given the chance you would have decapitated him. Besides, he deserved it. And it
doesn’t matter anyway; Roze would have done the same thing to him once he
arrived at the Citadel. Yelena just saved time.”
Small darts of fear pricked my heart. Leif’s words repeated in my mind. Roze
would have done the same. He was right. Numbness spread throughout my body. I
hadn’t even stopped to consider the implications before acting.
Don’t get in my way; I’m the all-powerful Soulfinder. Disgust coursed through
me. History books hadn’t been kind to Soulfinders. The vision of Flame Me being
burned at the stake rose in my mind. Perhaps the Councilors and Roze were right to
fear me. After what I had just done to Ferde, I feared I might turn into a
power-hungry despot.
“We need to leave as soon as possible,” Moon Man said.
We had assembled in the inn’s common room again. The city guards had taken
Cahil and the others into custody yesterday. We had spent the day explaining to the
city officials about Cahil’s group; an afternoon’s worth of discussion to convince
them to send the prisoners to the Council. Leif and Marrok would accompany the
city guards to the Citadel this morning. I intended to go with Moon Man and Tauno
to the Sandseed homeland in the Avibian Plains.
“You’re worried about your clan,” I said.
“Yes. Also I think we need to learn more about the Kirakawa, the Fire Warper
and your abilities before we have another run-in with the Vermin.”
“But your clan has forgotten the details. How are you going to learn more?” Leif
asked.
“We can consult Gede. He is another Story Weaver, but he is also a descendant
of Guyan and may have more information.” Moon Man stole my ginger muffin and
ate it.
Although I was curious to know more about how Guyan had reunited the
Sandseeds after their civil war with the Efe Warriors, Moon Man’s comments
reminded me I needed to try to contact Irys and let her know what had happened.
We finished breakfast and made arrangements to leave. Moon Man and Tauno
would get the horses ready while Leif and I tried to communicate with Irys.
We returned to our room. I lay on my bed.
“Do you think you can reach her from this distance?” Leif asked.
“I hope to, but I may need a boost of energy.”
Leif sat on the edge of my bed. Closing my eyes, I drew power to me and
projected my awareness toward the Magician’s Keep in the Citadel. I bypassed the
chaotic jumble of minds in the city and reached for the wide-open fields marking the
eastern border of the Greenblade Clan’s lands. The few livestock I encountered
hunched against the damp wind.
Pushing past the barren farmland, I aimed for the white marble walls of the
Citadel. But my mind stretched thin as if it had turned to taffy. Leif’s warm hand
encompassed mine and a surge of strength pushed my awareness further, but I
couldn’t reach those walls. The effort left me drained.
Leif gave my hand a squeeze before he stood. He searched through his pack and
before I could ask, he handed me a yellow leaf rolled like a scroll.
“Eat it,” he said. “It’ll give you energy.”
I sniffed. The leaf smelled like spearmint and rosemary. An odd combination. As
I crunched the leaf, the bitter mint taste dominated and it shredded like paper in my
mouth. “Yuck. What is it?”
“A baka leaf. One of Father’s discoveries.”
After a while, I felt better. We packed our bags and joined Moon Man and Tauno
in the stables. The four of us mounted. Leif and Marrok rode together on Rusalka
and headed toward the city’s garrison. Marrok would borrow one of the guard’s
horses for the trip to the Citadel.
The rest of us went east through Booruby’s crowded streets. Tauno shared
Kiki’s saddle with me, and Moon Man rode Garnet.
When we reached the Avibian Plains, the horses broke into their gust-of-wind
gait. We traveled until the sun set then halted to rest. Our stopping point was a bleak
section of the plains. A few stalks of grass clung to the sand, and no trees or
firewood were in sight. Tauno reconnoitered the area as soon as he dismounted.
Moon Man and I tended the horses. Once they were fed, watered and rubbed
down, Moon Man removed the oil nuts Leif had given to him. One of my father’s
finds, the oil nuts would burn long enough to heat water for stew. The night air
smelled damp, hinting at rain.
After arranging the fist-size lumps into a circle, he lit the nuts on fire by striking
two stones together to make a spark. I guessed Story Weaver powers didn’t include
lighting fires. Interesting.
Tauno returned with a couple rabbits he had shot with his bow and arrow. He
skinned the animals and added the meat to the stew.
After dinner I asked Moon Man about Guyan. “What happened between the Efe
rulers?”
“Just over two thousand years ago, the Efe Tribe was a peaceful nomadic
people, following the cattle and the weather.” Moon Man reclined against Garnet’s
saddle, warming to his tale. “Before becoming an official member of the tribe, the
young people would make a year-long pilgrimage and bring back a new tale for the
tribe. It is said that Hersh was gone many years, and, when he returned, he brought
back knowledge of blood magic.
“At first he taught a few Efe magicians, called Warriors, how to boost their
powers. Little rites requiring a drop of their own blood. The extra power would
dissipate when the task was completed. Then Hersh showed them how to mix their
blood with ink and inject it into their skin. Now the power did not dissipate and they
became stronger Warriors. Soon they discovered using another’s blood was even
more potent. And heart’s blood, taken from the chambers of the heart was
incredibly empowering.”
Moon Man shifted his weight and stared into the black sky. “The problem with
using blood magic is it becomes addictive. Even though the Efe Warriors were
powerful, they wanted still more. They did not kill their own clan members, but
sought victims from neighboring clans. No longer content to follow the cattle and
forage for food, they stole what they needed from others.
“This abuse continued for a long time. And would have continued if an Efe
named Guyan had not stopped the Warriors. He kept his magic pure. Sickened by
the horrors he witnessed, Guyan organized a resistance. The details of the battle are
lost to time, but the amount of magic pulled from the power blanket was enough to
knock over the Daviian Mountains and shred the blanket of power. Guyan organized
what was left of the clan, and established the role of Story Weavers, who helped
mend the people and the power.” Moon Man yawned.
I compared his story to what I had learned about Sitian history. “Can you really
mend the power source? I read a history where a magician had bunched the power
around himself, and it took two hundred years for it to smooth out.”
“Guyan was the first Weaver,” Tauno said. He hadn’t moved a muscle during
Moon Man’s story. “Guyan’s incredible powers could mend the power source, a
skill not seen in another since.”
Moon Man agreed. “The blanket is not perfect. There are holes, tears and thin
patches. There might come a point in time where it will be worn away and magic will
be a story of the past.”
A loud pop sounded from the campfire. I jumped. The last of Leif’s oil nuts
sputtered and died, leaving the three of us in darkness. Tauno offered to take the
first watch as Moon Man and I readied for bed.
I lay awake shivering in my cloak, thinking about the power source. Finding out
about those holes called Voids had been a nasty surprise. Alea Daviian had dragged
me into an area without power to torture and kill me. Being unable to access my
magic, I had felt quite helpless. The fact I had been tied to a cart had reinforced my
complete lack of control. Alea erred by not searching me for weapons, and I had
used my switchblade to escape.
Alea had also wanted to collect my blood and I wondered if she’d planned to
perform the Kirakawa ritual on me. I supposed I wouldn’t ever know. I couldn’t ask
a dead woman. Or could I? An image of invisible spirits hovering over me filled my
mind and I felt as if a layer of ice coated my skin.
The next morning we ate a cold breakfast of jerked beef and cheese. Moon Man
estimated we would reach the Sandseeds’ main camp by late afternoon.
“I tried to reach the elders,” Moon Man said. “But there is a strong barrier of
protective magic tenting the encampment. Either my people managed to fight off the
Vermin and this new shield is a safeguard against another attack, or the Vermin have
taken control and are defending themselves.”
“Let’s hope for the first one,” I said.
We mounted and rode for most of the day, stopping only once to rest the horses.
Before we reached the point where we would be visible to the Sandseeds’ camp, we
halted. Tauno would scout the camp and report back.
Taking off his bow and arrows, Tauno doused himself and his clothes with water
then rolled in the sandy soil. Granules clung to his skin. He blended in so well with
the surroundings, he soon vanished from our sight.
I paced and fretted while Moon Man appeared serene.
“Worrying can not change anything,” he said to my unspoken question. “I would
rather conserve energy for when we can do something.”
“You’re right, of course, but on occasion logic does not win against emotions.”
He shrugged. I resisted thinking worrisome thoughts and focused instead on what
I could do.
Smells? I asked Kiki.
Sweet. Home, she replied. Itchy.
Clumps of mud clung to her copper coat. I rummaged in my pack until I found
the currycomb. I was still combing Kiki when Tauno returned.
“The camp is secure. If we leave now we can get there before dark,” Tauno
reported.
As we prepared to go, he told us what he had seen. “Everything looked normal.
Yanna washed clothes and Jeyon skinned a hare. I crept closer and saw the elders
arguing over the fire. The children at their lessons. The youths practicing with their
wooden swords. Many heads drying in the sun.”
“Heads?” I asked.
“Our enemies,” Moon Man replied in a matter-of-fact tone as if decorating with
decapitated heads was a normal occurrence.
“It is a good sign,” Tauno said. “It means we have won the battle.”
Yet Tauno didn’t look happy. “Did you talk to anyone?” I asked.
“Yes. Jeyon signaled to me everything was fine. I did not want to waste the
daylight finding out the details.” He peered at the sky. “A hot meal by a warm fire
will be most welcome.”
I agreed. Tauno joined me on Kiki’s back, and Moon Man mounted Garnet. In
high spirits we joked and raced to the Sandseeds’ camp.
The gray twilight waned as the white tents of the camp became visible. Many
Sandseeds had gathered near the fire. A few stirred the contents of large cooking
pots, and, by the heady aroma, I guessed venison stew bubbled inside. Yum. Others
waved to us as we approached. We slowed the horses.
The air shimmered with the rising heat. I scanned the area with my magic, but felt