Battle Magic (43 page)

T
HE
G
NAM
R
UNGA
P
LAIN
T
HE ROAD NORTH TO
G
ARMASHING

The next time Briar came around, Rosethorn sat by his cot. She said cheerfully, “I’d box your ears, but apparently you’re being punished enough.”

He glared at her. “You aren’t usually so happy when I foul up this bad.”

“I’m not happy because you got hurt,” she replied tartly. “I realize your motives were good, but you shouldn’t have been out there.”

Briar covered his eyes with his arm. “I figured that out,” he admitted. “I just didn’t want anybody to die who didn’t have to. Well, our people.”

“General Sayrugo found us,” he heard her say. “Her scouts spotted the Yanjingyi warriors and she cut them off. None of them survived.”

“That’s good,” he said dully. People were moving around the tent. He didn’t want to see them talking about what a bleat-brain he’d been.

“Briar, look at me,” Rosethorn told him. “Sayrugo brought us company.”

He heard a scraping noise. A very deep voice said, “This is Briar? From your conversation, I had thought he would be as large as Diban Kangmo.”

“Go away, company,” Briar said. “I don’t want to be gawped at like some daftie in a show.”

“I thought I had come to understand the odd words that you use, but he is incomprehensible,” the deep voice complained.

Someone tugged on his sleeve. A voice he thought he would never hear again said, “Please look at me, Briar. I traveled such a long way to see you, and on a yak named Big Milk, too.”

It couldn’t be Evvy. Evvy was dead. He had her stone alphabet, taken from her by her murderers. She never would have let them have it unless she was dead.

Briar lowered his arm. Evvy stood at the opposite side of his cot from Rosethorn, wearing a tunic that was big enough to be a dress. A gaudy, multicolored silk scarf served her as a head cloth, but under it was Evvy’s same pair of bright eyes and her same flat-tipped nose. A smile quivered on her mouth.

“You’re alive?” he asked her.

She nodded. Tears filled her eyes. “But they killed my cats, Briar.” She knelt beside the cot and put her head on his chest.

Despite the pain he turned and hugged as much of her as he could reach. He murmured silly things, about how they’d pay them back, and she told him about what they’d done to her. It set a dull heat of fury burning in his chest.

“But you can walk?” he whispered.

She nodded and drew back, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. She was about to wipe her nose, too, when Rosethorn reached across Briar to thrust a handkerchief into her hand.

“Luvo fixed me. Well, Diban Kangmo’s daughter fixed me. I hardly limp at all,” Evvy explained. “Luvo’s a mountain. The mountain’s heart.”

“Who’s Luvo?” Briar demanded. “Who’s Diban Kangmo?”

“Diban Kangmo is the goddess of the peak spiders,” the deep, calm voice said. Evvy moved aside a little. Next to her, on a stool that brought it up to the level of the cot, was a rock of clear, purple, and pine-green crystal. It was roughly the height of Briar’s forearm and hand together, and it had the shape of an animal, though it was that shape after the rock had sat in running water for years.

A bear, maybe, Briar thought. A bear worn down by water.

“Briar, this is Luvo,” Evvy told him. “Well, Luvo isn’t his actual name. His real name is a lot longer, and I couldn’t remember it, so I call him Luvo. He’s one of the Sun Queen’s husbands — the one called Kangri Skad Po, the talking mountain.”

The rock nodded to Briar. “I did think you would be larger, from Evumeimei’s descriptions,” it said. Briar did not see a mouth move, but the voice definitely came from the rock. “I am honored to meet the one who has meant so much to her.”

Briar thought about it for a moment, then looked at Rosethorn. “You gave me another dose of painkiller potion, didn’t you? I’ll take willow tea from now on.”

Evvy’s tale was a long one. The healers fed Briar and changed his bandage as she told it. By the time she was done, Parahan, Souda,
Lango, and Jimut had come to listen, not having heard every detail. If he hadn’t been clutching her arm most of the time, Briar would have thought it another mad dream, from her capture to her travels deep in the earth until they had found Sayrugo’s army.

Sayrugo had agreed to transport Evvy and Luvo to Melonam, where they were supposed to join the troops led by Captain Lango and his companions. They would have done so, too, but their force had come across Yanjingyi soldiers chasing fifty warriors led by Soudamini. Now the Gyongxin and Realms troops were joined, and Sayrugo was in command.

“If you’re up to a wagon ride, we’re close to Melonam,” Rosethorn told Briar when Evvy had finished. “You’ll be more comfortable in a proper bed than here.”

“I don’t need a wagon,” Briar protested, swinging his legs to the side of the cot. “I can sit on a horse.” He put his feet down and stood, or tried to. His thigh hurt so much that he bit the inside of his cheek until it bled. He sat down.

“Wagon,” Rosethorn said. Jimut nodded and left the tent.

To save his self-respect, Briar looked at Luvo. “If you’re a mountain, how did you get so small?”

“Your manners are as dreadful as ever,” Rosethorn murmured. She was measuring pain-killing medicine into a cup.

“This part of me is the heart of the mountain, and much of its mind,” Luvo explained, turning his head knob so he appeared to look at Briar with the pits that served as his eyes. “I do not think your manners are dreadful. I have only Evumeimei to measure by. Never before did I believe that meat — that humans were worth the trouble to converse with, so I have no standard for their manners.”

“Evvy
also thinks we humans aren’t worth the trouble to talk to.” Briar looked at Rosethorn. “Rosethorn, I thought we agreed, no more of that stuff.”

“We have to lift you into the wagon, my dear.”

Oh, this was very bad. The cut must be deeper than he realized, if she was not blistering him for being rude to Luvo, or telling him to be silent and take his medicine. He watched while she dropped another liquid into the cup.

“Don’t worry,” she said, and smiled. “This will make it taste so bad you won’t care about the rest.”

Evvy, sitting quietly by Luvo, actually giggled.

Briar gulped the potion. It was even viler than Rosethorn had hinted it would be. He struggled until he was sure he wouldn’t bring it back up again. As his head spun, he mumbled, “Rosethorn, take my seed bombs.”

“I already have,” she told him as she beckoned to Jimut and another helper. They did their best to lift Briar gently, but he still screamed once before he fainted.

A crimson naga pecked his forehead like a bird, one head after another. Briar tried to tell her that snakes don’t peck, but she ignored him. He woke in a jolting, bumping wagon. His leg ached. He wanted to throw up. He wanted to dig a hole in Gyongxe all the way to the world’s molten heart and bury Weishu and his mages there, where they would never smell another rose.

“Does it hurt so much?” asked a very deep voice by his elbow. “Even when Evumeimei wept in her sleep her face did not make that shape.”

Briar turned his head. The day was too bright; he shaded his eyes so he could see the talking rock. “I wasn’t thinking of pain,” he mumbled. “I was thinking of revenge.”

“I think about revenge, too,” Evvy said. She was on Briar’s other side, leaning against his packs. “I want to dump a few Drimbakangs on Weishu, but Luvo says the mountains won’t let me.”

“I don’t blame you,” Briar said. “If they hurt me like that, I’d want to drop mountains on them, too.”

“Yes, but I’m over the hurt. It could have been worse. They
wanted
to do worse. See, I’m fine.” Evvy stripped off one of the overlarge slippers someone had given her and the heavy sock she wore underneath it. Gripping her ankle, she raised her foot until Briar could see its sole. “Not too bad, right?”

Briar swallowed. Evvy’s feet were normally brown and callused from years of running on rock and dirt with no shoes at all. Now her sole was puffed and pink, with horizontal scars across it.

“It’s tender yet. I can’t walk too far, but it’s not raw, and the wool doesn’t hurt it,” Evvy said, turning her sole to give it a critical look. “I can even pick up Luvo and carry him and it doesn’t hurt my feet. I just have to remember that my bones are made of granite so his weight doesn’t bother me. How’s your wound?” She let go of her ankle and put her sock back on.

“Fine,” Briar said, ashamed for whimpering. He was still somewhat muzzy, but the pain wasn’t what it had been. He smiled at Evvy. “I think my revenge could be easier to get than yours. He just made me mad. I’ll be happy if we send him running back to Dohan.”

She looked away. “
That’s
what hurts. They took all I had. I can’t ever get justice for that. My feet would heal no matter what. But everything that was mine is gone, even my alphabet that you gave me. Even …” She folded herself over, burying her face on her knees.

Briar wriggled to sit up, not caring if his leg hurt. This was one thing he could do for her, after he had left her behind for the torturers. “Evvy. Evvy, give me that pack. The one with the embroidered lucky ball on the left strap!”

She groped and handed it to him without raising her face from her knees. Briar fumbled with the straps. “Look here. See what some Yanjingyi
kaq
had when our fellows raided their camp!”

He pulled out her alphabet. Since she still hadn’t unfolded, he placed the rolled bundle on the tops of her slippered feet.

Evvy parted her knees to peek. Then she whispered, “No …”

“Yes,” Briar said.

She pushed her legs out flat and reached for the heavy roll of cloth. Her fingers trembled as she undid the ties that held it shut. There were more than twenty-six pockets in the cloth, since jasper, obsidian, jade, sapphire, moonstone, opal, and quartz came in many varieties. Evvy stroked each and every sample, tears on her cheeks.

“Evumeimei?” Luvo asked. “Why do streams run down your face?”

“She has her alphabet back,” Briar replied for Evvy, who was too overcome to speak. Then he had to explain what an alphabet was, and what writing was. By the time he was done, Evvy’s crying was over and the army had reached the walled town of Melonam.

They waited in the sun for a short time before Jimut rode back to find them. “They want to leave the wounded here and press on,” he told Briar. “Rosethorn said to give you this.” He handed over a small vial.

Briar knew the medicine as soon as he smelled it. It was one of the quick-heal potions they used only when things were desperate.

If they’re going to leave me here with the rest of them that are hurt, that’s pretty desperate, he thought. And I don’t want to be left!

Before he could lose his nerve — there was a reason these medicines were seldom used — he slit the wax on the cork, yanked it free, and swallowed the contents of the vial. For a moment he felt nothing. Then the flames came roaring up his throat to set his teeth, tongue, eyeballs, and nose on fire. He stuffed one arm into his mouth to keep from screeching and forced himself to stare at Melonam’s walls. That was a mistake. The stone walls were painted with four-headed orange gods with boars’ tusks. In their hands they gripped spears tipped with jawbones. Looking at Briar, they stuck out their tongues and waved their weapons.

Briar covered his eyes with his free arm.

“Briar?” Luvo asked. “Why do those gods of the plain wave to you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Briar mumbled. Then he realized what the rock had said. He uncovered his watering eyes and blinked at Luvo. “You can see them? You can see them
moving
?”

“Why would I not see the gods?” Luvo inquired. If Evvy heard their conversation, she gave no sign of it. She had moved
down to the tail of the wagon, where she sat with her alphabet. She was taking each stone from its pocket and pressing it first to her lips, then to her forehead, before she put it back.

“I thought I was just imagining things,” Briar mumbled. Then he had to explain what “imagining” meant, though he wasn’t certain, in the end, that he got his meaning across.