WinterMaejic Page 6

  We got to our feet, and continuing in the direction I’d been going, we fled.

  Move and countermove. We have them on the run. This has been the game of the ages, masterfully planned and exquisitely executed.

  They don’t yet seem to realize that they are nothing more than cat’s prey now. And we can afford the time to toy with them. Some of the pleasure, indeed, will be in the chase. By the time they grasp the truth, it will be too late.

  I wonder: will my glass show me the face of the last one as he dies?

  We went on all night. Once Anazian determined we were far enough away from the boar, should it wake, we took a short break. I had nothing but my cloak, and I knew that before long, I would miss my things, especially my waterskin. But Anazian had his pack, and when we stopped for a short rest, he shared his water with me. Once we moved on, he refilled the skin at the first stream we came to.

  The shock of the attack on the camp began to lessen a little, and I started asking Anazian questions.

  “What happened? What was all that green lightning? And why . . . ?”

  “Whoa! One question at a time! We have all night and then some. To begin with your second question, it was an attack by the Royal Guard.”

  I almost contradicted him, but remembered in time that Yallick had told me his fears about the dragonmasters in confidence. He obviously hadn’t shared them with Anazian. It occurred to me that I might get more information if I pretended to know less about events than I really did. “How did the Royal Guard make the lightning? I thought they were strictly military.”

  “I thought so, too. Perhaps they’ve started working with the court magicians.” He laughed at this, but I didn’t see what was so funny.

  “But why are they coming after us? What difference does it make?”

  “If the king says to do something, the Royal Guard does it, no questions asked. My best guess is that it has to do with the dragon. The king hasn’t been able to see reason on that topic ever since the egg was stolen. The rather, ah, dramatic show that you and Traz put on rescuing your brother didn’t exactly improve the king’s temper.”

  His way of putting it amused me. I supposed it had been “dramatic” at that, with Traz’s staff emitting red lightning that broke the dragonmasters’ net of spells and let Xyla get free.

  “Anyway,” Anazian went on, “I suppose losing the valuable rare dragon was just the excuse he needed to finally root the mages out of Alloway for good.”

  Something still didn’t make sense. “But how did they find us so fast? The mages have been in hiding forever. If it was that easy, why didn’t they do it before?”

  “I don’t know. If we knew the answer to that, we wouldn’t be in this predicament now, would we?”

  We walked on and on through the night, sometimes chatting about inconsequentials and sometimes in silence. I wondered if we might meet up with some of the other mages, if any had come this same direction . . . and hadn’t turned back. I never once questioned why we were continuing; the thought of possibly encountering any of the Royal Guard terrified me.

  Just before dawn, Anazian found a hiding place between several large boulders. He built a small fire. It felt good to warm my numb fingers and toes, and I was astonished to see absolutely no smoke. Anazian just gave me a mysterious smirk when I asked how he did that. He didn’t answer the question, but instead suggested that I get some sleep while I could.

  I pulled my cloak tight across my chest and lay down facing the fire. I wished for a blanket, but that didn’t make me feel any warmer. For a little while, I gazed into the flickering flames, remembering the nights I’d spent traveling with Traz. Where was he now? Was he all right? I hoped he hadn’t gotten separated from Yallick as I had. Well, at least I was safe with someone who’d been Yallick’s apprentice. He must be a powerful mage in his own right. And with that, I fell asleep.

  I awoke feeling toasty warm and found that Anazian had covered me with his own cloak. He sat nearby wearing just his heavy wool trousers and tunic.

  “Aren’t you freezing?” I asked, sitting up.

  “I wouldn’t have shared my cloak if I were. Here.” He grinned and handed me a tin cup full of steaming tea.

  “Thanks,” I said, curling my hands around it and taking a sip. “But how can you be warm enough. It’s so cold.”

  “You will learn, my dear. All in good time. Did you sleep well?”

  “Yes, thanks to you.” I indicated the cloak. “Did you?”

  He shook his head. “I didn’t sleep. One of us needed to keep watch, and you were far too tired. It’s a good thing I did, too. A small contingent of soldiers passed by a few hours ago.” My heart leapt in fear. He must have seen it in my face. “Not to worry. It was no difficult thing to hide the fire from dolts like that.” He handed me a piece of flatbread. “You better eat this so we can move on. With good luck, we will find the others today.”

  But we didn’t have any of that luck. We travelled the whole day without signs of anyone at all. I noticed that we were heading northwest. But although I felt sure that we should be trying to turn more eastward, I didn’t feel comfortable saying anything. Perhaps Anazian knew a circuitous route to the mountains.

  As we walked that day, Anazian taught me all kinds of herb lore. I paid careful attention in hope of retaining as much of the knowledge as I could.

  “See that winter-flowering herb there?” He pointed at a low, spreading plant with tiny pink flowers. “Thomwort, excellent for stomachache. You crush the flowers into a paste, mix in just the right amount of goat’s milk, and administer two spoonfuls every four hours.” He wouldn’t tell me exactly what the “right amount” was, of course.

  A little later, we came across a tall shrub with sharp thorns and green berries. “Winthistle, an effective cure for . . .” a pause as he gave me a mischievous look “. . . female troubles.” I turned my head away a little in embarrassment, then hoped he hadn’t noticed.

  “Also good for strengthening nursing mothers.”

  We walked on. Since I’d slept until two hours after dawn, we didn’t stop for lunch. In the middle of the afternoon, we took a short rest and ate some dried fruit. The all-night walk followed by only a few hours of sleep was beginning to tell on me, and I wondered how Anazian, who hadn’t slept at all, could keep going. When he told me he wanted to push through as much of the night as possible, I wanted to snap at him that I was already tired, but I managed to hold my tongue.

  Most of that night was a blur, other than something that happened around midnight. We’d discovered a path that led more or less in the direction Anazian wanted to go. I was in a fog of weariness, concentrating on just putting one foot in front of the other.

  Anazian grabbed my arm and we both halted. His grip communicated his tension, even through all my heavy winter garb. He put a forefinger to his lips to quell any questions and, taking my hand in his, led me off the path and into the darkness of the woods.

  It had been cold walking; standing still was even worse. It seemed as if hours had passed, and I was just about to ask why we’d stopped at all, when I heard clomping feet, jingling gear, and quiet voices. A troop of soldiers went past on the road. I held my breath and willed my heart to stop banging so loudly in my chest.

  Anazian wore a look of deep concentration. His lips even moved a little. I’d have to ask him what kind of spell he was casting. Later.

  Once the troop had gone by, I breathed a little easier, but I no longer had any inclination to move on, not for a long time. Anazian beckoned me to follow him much sooner than I would have liked.

  I decided that it was long past time for me to stop blocking vibrations. That had probably been what tipped Anazian off that the enemy was so near. It had just been so easy to block that it hadn’t occurred to me that I was cutting myself off from an important source of information.


  When I first unblocked, the life vibration of the forest felt comfortingly familiar. Then I detected a subtle undertow of negative energy. I glanced at Anazian to see if he felt it, too, but he continued to stroll along as if nothing were wrong. It must be the residue from the soldiers who were now ahead of us.

  Before long, the rush of energy that had accompanied the fear of discovery wore off, leaving me even more tired than I’d been before. Soon I was stumbling along, and finally Anazian realized that I couldn’t go on any farther.

  I was scarcely aware of him looking for a likely spot, building a fire, and telling me I’d be more comfortable sleeping on the ground than on my feet.

  But I didn’t sleep well. Dreams of flashing light, screams of pain, and the rattling of armor disturbed my slumber. I awoke several times, always to find Anazian staring into the flames. I had a nagging feeling that I should have offered to keep watch and let him get some rest, but I always fell back to sleep before I could form the words to speak them.

  It turned out that Anazian wasn’t able to hold out. When I woke up, well into the morning judging by the angle of the sun, I found him sound asleep and the fire burned down to embers. I rose as quietly as possible and rebuilt the fire with wood Anazian had gathered while I slept. Then I took the waterskin that lay empty next to Anazian’s pack and went in search of water. The brook I found ran swift and cold. I splashed water on my face to wash away the last traces of sleep.

  When I returned to the fire, Anazian was just sitting up and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He started when he saw that I was no longer lying in the place I’d spent the night, and I could feel his relief when he spotted me standing nearby.

  “I can’t believe I fell asleep,” he said in an annoyed tone as he held his hands out to the fire.

  “You obviously needed it,” I said, setting the waterskin down. “It’s been days since you last slept.”

  “That’s no excuse. We could have been found, captured . . . or worse.”

  I almost asked what could possibly be worse than being captured by the Royal Guard, but decided I didn’t actually want to know.

  The day went much like the previous one, except that it was noticeably colder. This seemed to please Anazian. I wondered if it might make it harder for someone to track us, but I couldn’t figure out how the temperature could affect that. If it rained, sure. But the sky was a clear, wintry blue.

  I felt better for the rest I’d goten, but Anazian seemed irritable, as if falling asleep bothered him more than he was willing to say. He didn’t talk as much as he had the day before, and as the afternoon progressed, the silence between us built until it felt like an impenetrable wall.

  Finally, the sun went down, and Anazian surprised me by saying we’d stop for the night, that he knew of a good place just ahead. We walked about another half mile, then turned off the road onto a faint track that I wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t pointed it out. We followed the path a short way to a place where the trees grew thicker. He stopped at a point where they grew almost unnaturally close together.

  Anazian nodded in satisfaction, and we set about making camp for the night. I started the fire while he went for water, then I cooked up a simple vegetable stew and he gathered more firewood.

  After we finished eating, I still didn’t feel quite sleepy enough to lie down. As we sat keeping warm in front of the fire, Anazian began to talk about the trees.

  “This forest we’ve been traveling through—have you any idea of its age?”

  I shook my head. “I never really thought about it. I guess it’s been here forever.”

  He smiled. “Almost, perhaps, but not quite. The trees, they can tell you.”

  My eyes widened. “You can talk to the trees?” Maybe that explained why he was so knowledgeable about plants and so adept at finding his way through the woods.

  “Oh, yes. Anyone maejic can. You need only to learn how. Would you like to try?”

  “Yes!” I said eagerly. “I’d love that.”

  He rose to his feet and held out a hand to assist me. I took it with a smile. Maybe I could get used to this kind of gallantry after all.

  He glanced around. “There. That one will do.” I followed him to the one he’d chosen. A beech tree, with a pine growing right next to it, not two yards away. He placed his hands on the trunk of the beech and listened with eyes half closed. A smile came to his lips. “Yes. Here. Place your hand on the trunk, like so.”

  Facing him, I stepped closer, putting my right hand where he indicated.

  His voice softened. “Close your eyes. Feel the skin of the tree under your hand. Feel its sap flow in rhythm with your own blood.”

  I tried to do as he said, but I didn’t feel anything but rough bark. Maybe this was something I’d have to work at harder than usual. I concentrated, but still nothing.

  Anazian placed a hand on top of mine. It felt very warm, and I remembered how Yallick’s had done the same all those days ago. I squeezed my eyes tighter in concentration, but it didn’t help.

  All of a sudden, I felt a crushing pain in my hand, as if the bones had been smashed to powder and the flesh pressed flat. My eyes flew open as I cried aloud. I looked to find my hand buried up to my wrist in the tree itself.

  “What?” I gasped. “What’s happening?” My voice rose to a panicked shriek. “Help me!”

  Anazian struck me so hard across the mouth that my head snapped back. “Be silent, you fool!” I felt blood from a split lip trickle down my chin as Anazian reached for my other hand. I struggled against him, but it was useless. He captured my free hand and pressed it into the trunk of the nearby pine.

  The agony doubled, and I couldn’t help it: I screamed. But no sound came out of my mouth.

  The attack was brutal and effective. Klemma is gone. So, too, are Marby, Pellin, Forb, and Illid. Others are injured, and several of them may yet die. And still others—many others—are missing. Stam, Anazian, Doolh, to name only a few. And worst of all, Donavah.

  The few birds I was able to summon after the attack sought out any trace of her vibrational signature. All returned having found nothing.

  We must go on to Xyla, those of us who have regrouped. But for my apprentice, I must hold out hope against hope whilst I dread the worst. If she is lost, how very, very much more will be lost as well.

  For a few moments, the pain threatened to engulf me. I took in great heaving breaths and tried to force myself to calm down.

  Anazian’s laughter rang through the woods. I blinked the tears out of my eyes and looked at him. He stood there scrutinizing me, hatred pouring from his very being. What had I ever done to him? Why was he doing this? I bit back the questions, not wanting to give him any more satisfaction than he was already getting.

  “And that should settle you,” he said, spitting out the words. “Pleasant dreams, my dear.”

  I could only watch in horror as he gathered his things, kicked out the fire, and strode off into the darkness.

  I stood there; what else could I do? The chill soon began to seep into my joints, and I began to shiver. After awhile, I realized that the trees, too, shuddered periodically, as if the invasion caused them pain.

  Attached to them inextricably, I tried to use my maejic to communicate with them. To no avail. It was some time before it occurred to me that despite having unblocked, I felt nothing. No vibrations of any sort.

  New panic rose up inside me, and I had to work harder than ever to gain control. The feeling eventually subsided, but was quickly replaced with despair. Tears of fear and frustration welled in my eyes and spilled down my cheeks. I sobbed.

  And discovered that I truly had no voice. I tried to speak. Nothing. I tried to hum. Still nothing. I tried every way I could think of to make noise, but not a sound escaped my lips. Anazian had made me mute, too. Unable to cry out for help. A
nd what else might he have done?

  The minutes crawled by. I soon became completely numb with cold. At least I could no longer feel the excruciating pain in my hands. I couldn’t feel much of anything at all. Eventually, my thoughts themselves seemed to go numb.

  The night passed with the agonizing slowness of a painful death.

  Then, just after dawn, I heard a gasp behind me. I tried to look around, but I couldn’t see anyone. All I could think of was that Anazian had returned for some horrible purpose, perhaps to gloat and watch me die.

  “Is this what you meant?” a soft, deep voice asked. “I can see why you were so upset.” I tried harder to see who was approaching, and I felt the muscles in my arms pull. “Stop struggling, before you hurt yourself.” And the owner of the voice stepped into view and stood a few feet in front of me. It was definitely not Anazian.

  A young man, probably in his early twenties. He wore buckskin leggings and tunic, and soft boots that let him walk silently when he wished. A mass of wavy black hair fell past his shoulders. Several knives of various lengths hung sheathed from his belt, and he leaned a long bow against the beech tree. But it was his grey eyes that drew and held my attention. Somehow, they conveyed a wealth of concern with a simple gaze.

  He raised a hand slowly, as if he were trying to calm a frightened animal. “You’ll be all right now.” His voice was gentle. He took a step or two nearer, and I flinched. If I could have, I would have backed away. But trapped like a fly in a spider’s web, I was completely helpless. At his mercy. Whoever he was, he could do anything to me. Absolutely anything.

  He looked deep into my eyes. “It’s all right. It really is.” My breath eased the tiniest bit. “I’m going to help you. Look.” He raised his other hand, so that I could see them both. He came a few steps closer. His eyes made me want to trust him, but I was simply too afraid.

  He came yet closer, and he was now too near for me to maintain eye contact. He placed his hands on the trees, over my hands buried deep inside. I could feel his warm breath on my forehead. We stood that way for several moments, and then I felt my hands slip free. I collapsed in shock, and the young man barely caught me before I fell.