The soldier sheathed his sword in one quick motion as if he had made a decision.
“I can’t follow Leif. He would sense me with his magic and confuse my mind.”
“I can’t do that,” Leif said.
“Truly?” Marrok rested his hand near his sword, considering.
“But I can,” I said.
Marrok’s attention snapped back to me.
“Marrok, you’re hardly fit for travel. And I can’t let you kill Cahil. The Sitian
Council wants to talk to him first.” I wanted to talk to him.
“I don’t seek revenge,” Marrok said.
“Then what do you want?”
“To help.” Marrok gripped the hilt of his weapon.
“What?” Leif and I said at the same time.
“Sitia needs Cahil. Only the Council and the Masters know he doesn’t have royal
blood. Ixia is a real threat to Sitia’s way of life. Sitia needs a figurehead to rally
behind. Someone to lead them into battle.”
“But he aided in Ferde’s escape,” I said. “And Ferde could be torturing and
raping another girl as we speak!”
“Cahil was just confused and overwhelmed by learning the truth of his birth. I
raised him. I know him better than anyone. He probably already regrets his rashness.
Ferde is most likely dead. If I get a chance to talk to Cahil, I’m positive he would
come back without a fight, and we can work this out with the Council.”
Power brushed me.
“He’s sincere about his intentions,” Leif said.
But what about Cahil’s intentions? I had seen him be ruthless and opportunistic in
his quest to build an army, but never rash. However, I had only known him for two
seasons. I considered using magic to see Marrok’s memories of Cahil, but that
would be a breach in the magician’s Ethical Code unless he gave me his consent. So
I asked for it.
“Go ahead,” Marrok said, meeting my gaze.
Pain lingered in his blue-gray eyes. His short gray hair had turned completely
white since Cahil’s attack.
Granting me permission was enough to convince me of his sincerity, but despite
his good intentions he still wanted to build an army and attack Ixia. And that ran
counter to what I believed. Ixia and Sitia just needed to understand each other and
work together. A war would help no one.
Do I leave Marrok here to influence the Council toward an attack, or take him
with me? His skills as a tracker would be an added benefit.
“If I allow you to come with us, you must obey all my orders. Agreed?” I asked.
Marrok straightened as if he stood in a military formation. “Yes, sir.”
“Are you strong enough to ride?”
“Yes, but I don’t have a horse.”
“That’s all right. I’ll find you a Sandseed horse. All you’ll need to do is hold on.”
I grinned, thinking of Kiki’s special gust-of-wind gait.
Leif laughed and his body relaxed with the release of the tension. “Good luck
convincing the Stable Master to loan you his horse.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Garnet is the only other horse in the Keep’s stables bred by the Sandseeds.”
I wilted in defeat just thinking about the stubborn, cranky Stable Master. Now
what? No other horse breed would be able to keep up with us.
Honey, Kiki said in my mind.
Honey?
Avibian honey. Chief Man love honey.
Which meant, if I offered to bring some Avibian honey back for the Stable
Master, he might lend me his horse.
We left the Citadel through the south gate and headed down the valley road. Farm
fields peppered with corn stubble and wagon ruts swept out from the right side of
the road. The Avibian Plains dominated the left side.
The long grasses of the plains had turned from yellow and red to brown in the
cold weather. The rains created extensive puddles, transforming the rolling landscape
into a marshland and scenting the air with a damp smell of earthy decay.
Leif rode Rusalka, and Marrok had a death grip on Garnet’s reins. His
nervousness affected the tall horse, who jittered to the side at every noise.
Kiki slowed so I could talk to him. “Marrok, relax. I’m the one who promised to
bring back a case of Avibian honey plus clean the Stable Master’s tack for three
weeks.”
He barked out a laugh but kept his tight grip.
Time to switch tactics. I reached for the blanket of power hovering over the
world and pulled a thread of magic, linking my mind with Garnet’s. The horse
missed Chief Man and didn’t like this stranger on his back, but he settled when I
showed him our destination.
Home, Garnet agreed. He wanted to go. Pain.
Marrok’s rigid hold hurt Garnet’s mouth, and I knew Marrok wouldn’t relax even
if I threatened to leave him behind. Sighing, I made light contact with Marrok’s mind.
His worry and fear focused more on Cahil than on himself. His apprehension came
from not feeling in control of the powerful horse underneath him despite the fact that
he held Garnet’s reins. And also from not being in charge of the situation, having to
take orders from her.
A dark undercurrent to his thoughts about me pulled a warning bell in my mind,
and I would have liked to explore deeper. He had given me permission to see his
memories of Cahil, but he hadn’t given me carte blanche to probe. Instead, I sent
him some calming thoughts. Even though he couldn’t hear my words he should be
able to react to the soothing tone.
After a while, Marrok no longer held himself so rigid, and his body moved with
Garnet’s motion. When Garnet felt comfortable, Kiki turned east into the plains.
Mud splashed from her hooves as she increased her pace. I gave Leif and Marrok
the signal to let the horses have control.
Please find Moon Man. Fast, I said to Kiki.
With a slight hop, she broke into her gust-of-wind gait. Rusalka and Garnet
followed. I felt carried by a river of air. The plains blurred under Kiki’s hooves at a
rate about twice a full-speed gallop.
Only Sandseed horses could achieve this gait, and only when they rode in the
Avibian Plains. It had to be a magical skill, but I couldn’t tell if Kiki pulled power. I
would have to ask Moon Man about it when we found him.
The plains encompassed a massive section of eastern Sitia. Located to the
southeast of the Citadel, it stretched all the way to the base of the Emerald
Mountains in the east, and down to the Daviian Plateau to the south.
On a normal horse, it took about five to seven days to cross the plains. The
Sandseeds were the only clan to live within the borders, and their Story Weavers had
shielded their lands with a powerful protective magic. Any stranger who ventured
into the plains without Sandseed permission became lost. The magic would confuse
the stranger’s mind and he would travel in circles until he either stumbled out of the
plains or ran out of water and died.
Magicians with strong powers could travel without being affected by the magic,
but the Story Weavers always knew when someone crossed into their land. As
distant cousins of the Sandseeds, the Zaltana Clan members could also travel the
plains unharmed. The other clans avoided the area altogether.
Since Marrok rode on a Sandseed horse the protection didn’t attack him and we
were able to ride all night. Kiki finally stopped for a rest at sunrise.
While Leif collected firewood, I rubbed the horses down and fed them. Marrok
helped Leif, but I could see exhaustion etched in his pale face.
The rain and sleet had slowed during the night, but gray clouds sealed the sky.
Our campsite had plenty of grass for the horses. It was on a high spot in the plains
next to a rocky out-cropping with a few scrub trees growing nearby, and was a solid
place for us to stand without sinking ankle-deep into the mud.
Our cloaks were soaked, so I tied my rope between two trees to hang the wet
garments. Leif and Marrok found a few dry branches. Making a tent of the twigs,
Leif stared at the wood and small flames sprang to life.
“Show-off,” I said.
He smiled as he filled a pot with water for tea. “You’re jealous.”
“You’re right. I am.” I growled in frustration. Leif and I were both born to the
same parents, yet we had different magical powers. Our father, Esau, had no overt
magic, just a flair for finding and using the plants and trees of the jungle for food,
medicines and his inventions. Perl, our mother, could only sense if a person had
magical abilities.
So how did Leif get the magical abilities to light fires and sense a person’s life
force while I could affect their souls? With my magic, I could force Leif to light a
fire, but couldn’t do it on my own. I wondered if anyone in Sitian history had
studied the relationship between magic and birth parents. Bain Bloodgood, Second
Magician, would probably know. He owned a copy of almost every book in Sitia.
Marrok fell asleep as soon as we finished eating our breakfast of bread and
cheese. Leif and I remained by the fire.
“Did you put something in his tea?” I asked.
“Some fiddlewood bark to help him heal.”
Wrinkles and scars lined Marrok’s face. Through the yellowed bruises along his
jaw, I spotted some white stubble. His swollen eye oozed blood and tears. Red
streaks painted his right cheek. Healer Hayes hadn’t allowed me to help with
Marrok’s recovery. He had only let me assist with minor injuries. Another who
feared my powers.
I touched Marrok’s forehead. His skin felt hot and dry. The fetid smell of rotten
flesh emanated from him. I reached for the power source and felt the Sandseeds’
protective magic watching me for signs of threat. Gathering magic, I projected a
thread to him, revealing the muscles and bone underneath Marrok’s skin. His injuries
pulsed with a red light. His cheekbone had been shattered and some bone fragments
had gotten into his eye, affecting his vision. Small dark growths of an infection
dotted the ruined area.
I concentrated on the injury until his pain transferred to my own face. A sharp
needle of pain stabbed my right eye as my vision dulled and tears welled. Curling
into a ball, I pushed against the onslaught, channeling the magic from the power
source through my body. The flow chugged, and I strained. All of a sudden the
current of magic moved with ease as if someone had removed a beaver’s dam,
washing away the pain. Relief swept through me. I relaxed.
“Do you think that was a good idea?” Leif asked when I opened my eyes.
“The wound was infected.”
“But you used all your energy.”
“I…” I sat up, feeling tired but not exhausted. “I—”
“Had help,” a voice snapped out of nowhere.
Leif jerked upright in surprise, but I recognized the deep masculine tone. Moon
Man appeared next to the fire as if he had formed from the rising heat and ashes. His
bald head gleamed in the sunlight.
In deference to the chill, Moon Man wore a long-sleeved tan tunic and dark
brown pants that matched the color of his skin, but no shoes.
“No paint?” I asked Moon Man. The first time I had met him he had coalesced
out of a beam of moonlight covered only with indigo dye. He had claimed to be my
Story Weaver and proceeded to show me my life’s story and unlocked my
childhood memories. Six years of living with my mother, father and brother had been
suppressed by a magician named Mogkan so I wouldn’t long for my family after
Mogkan had kidnapped me.
Moon Man smiled. “I did not have time to cover my skin. And it is a good thing I
came when I did.” His tone conveyed his displeasure. “Or you would have spent all
your strength.”
“Not all,” I countered, sounding like a belligerent child.
“Have you become an all-powerful Soulfinder already?” He widened his eyes in
mock amazement. “I will bow down before you, Oh Great One.” He bent at the
waist.
“All right, enough,” I said, laughing. “I should have thought it through before
healing Marrok. Happy now?”
He sighed dramatically. “I would be content if I thought you learned a lesson and
would not do it again. However, I am well aware that you will continue to rush right
into situations. It is weaved into your life’s pattern. There is no hope for you.”
“Is that why you sent for me? To tell me I’m hopeless?”
Moon Man sobered. “I wish. We had heard that the Soulstealer had escaped
from the Magician’s Keep with Cahil’s help. One of our Story Weavers scouting in
the Daviian Plateau sensed a stranger traveling with one of the Vermin.”
“Are Cahil and Ferde in the plateau?” Leif asked.