The Way of the Black Beast (10 page)

"Yes, sir," a little girl answered through her bawling.

Malja whirled around to see a four-year-old girl clad in a black assault suit. The dead lake, the barren trees, the overcast sky — gone. Tommy, Fawbry, the Chi-Chun, Barris — gone. Before she could say a word, little Malja vanished.

Another Malja appeared in the distance. Eight-years-old. The younger version of her practiced with a new sword she had been given for her birthday. Malja remembered the day well. Lunges, parries, sweeps, and slices. Over and over she went through her forms — each choreographed step a tutorial for battle. No windows to distract her. No warmth to lull her. Just cold, echoing stone and damp, musty odors. Warm tears stung in her eyes, but she kept practicing.

Then she was ten, crouched at the door to her room listening to her fathers argue in the hall. "She's a complete failure," Callib said. "There's not a bit of magical ability in her. Nothing."

"Failure?" Jarik said, his deeper tones always more striking than Callib's shrill rants. "It's a success she's survived this long."

"Obviously, but—"

"You continue to think you can change her, but look at what she is. Look at what she can do."

"What? The fighting?"

"Yes, the fighting. She's by far the most talented warrior this world has ever seen. We did that. That's success."

"That's your success. It has nothing to do with finding safe passage, and quite frankly, it's a waste of our valuable time and resources. She's nothing but a failure to me."

She stared at the door. Burning tears streamed down her face, but she wiped them back.

Again the world dissolved. Malja gasped as her vision flooded with memory after memory. She saw her days training, her days being yelled at, her days being beaten. She saw the morning they tossed her in a sack and abandoned her in a forest.

She felt the fear and the loss and the betrayal. Yet she also had the context of an adult looking back to aid her. She admired little Malja's pluck. That girl refused to give in.

She saw the week she had struggled to survive, scavenging for the mere basics — eating grubs, enduring freezing rain, fighting off hungry konapols. She saw the day she thought she would die of starvation, the same day Gregor found her on his morning walk and decided to take her in.

The years with Gregor were pleasant but never secure. She listened closely and tried to obey his rules. But no matter how often he professed his love for her, she kept an eye out for any change to come. At some point, she expected, he would grow tired of her burden and dump her.

With a jolt like riding in a wagon run by a spooked horse, she saw a seventeen-year-old Malja returning from a three-day hunt. She had a load of meat to store for Korstraprime. She called Gregor to give her a hand. She really just wanted to show him how well she had done. He always praised her accomplishments, and she never tired of hearing him.

When he didn't answer, she cupped her mouth and said, "Wake up, Lazy-head. I'm home." The concern on her face lacked any humor. Both Maljas — old and young — tensed as the seventeen-year-old approached their tiny shack.

The older Malja closed her eyes, knowing what awaited the younger. Gregor — ripped to pieces. Blood and tissue strewn about like sloppy decorations. Burn marks on the walls and a sour stench marring the air — sure signs of magic.

Only two magicians would have cared about an old man and his daughter living alone in peace. Jarik and Callib. The younger Malja, her eyes cold and dry, tripped on her way outside to throw-up. The older knew what happened next. She could never forget about the man hiding in the second room. She braced herself for the coming confrontation, for the moment that changed so much, but the vision skipped ahead, cheating her from watching her truly discover her strength and saving her from having to deal with it. Now, she saw herself standing before the shack as she burned it and Gregor's remains to the ground. And she made her oath. She would find her fathers. She would unleash the beast for Gregor's sake.

More years soared by her — all the dark, dreadful places she had seen. The barbarians of the Freelands, the criminal magicians holding towns hostage, the constant battle against roving groups of killers and cretins — all of it washed her in the blood of memory.

But then she stood in a gleaming, white room. Not a memory. She had never seen such a room before. A window encompassed an entire wall letting the sun glitter off the white marble floor. A white desk and chair occupied one side of the wide room. Far across on the other, Malja saw a white couch. She had seen furniture before but never in such pristine condition. Two white birds chased each other around the ceiling.

"I'm sorry it took so long to settle on a meeting location," said a man in a gray suit with a brilliant green tie. He touched his desk and the birds vanished. "Usually I can find a memory that's happy, warm, and above all else, safe. I could not find such a place in you. Admittedly, I'm pressed for time, but still, you've lived a bitter life."

Malja thought hard on what she had seen and heard. She offered the most intelligent reply she could muster. "Huh?"

The man smiled, revealing just how handsome he could be — and clean. His skin, his hair, his clothes — everything smelled as clean and clear as the spotless room. "I apologize again. This can be a bit disorienting the first time." He raised a finger. "Let's begin with introductions. I'm Barris Mont." He offered his hand.

As Malja shook, she said, "But you were that huge thing."

Barris laughed. "Yes, I was. Still am. All this is going on in my head."

"Your head?"

"Well, it was meant to be yours, but as I said, your life has been rather dark. So I brought you into my mind instead."

"Then this is your memory?"

"Back when I was human. Before the Devastation."

With timid steps, Malja approached the window. Never had she felt so shy, so unsure of what she would do with what she would see. Before she felt ready, the world opened up.

The office she stood in must have been miles in the air, for she could see the city spread out to the horizon. Far below people scurried about and grounders zipped along the road. Other offices floated in the air while some buildings simply stacked upon each other, reaching for the clouds. Lights of every shape and color winked and flashed and dazzled.

A scarlet bird with white-tipped wings slid along the air and settled on the window ledge. It seemed nonplused by this amazing, breathing city. It seemed at peace.

Malja saw that the city was at peace, too. Despite the speeding grounders and bustling people, despite the airborne offices and the numerous advertisements, despite it all, the city moved with a quiet, peaceful grace. The engines, the food, the lights — all powered by magicians, silently doing their job from the shadows.

"It had elegance, don't you think?" Barris said.

Malja could not hide her wonder. "It was beautiful."

"This is the city of Winsal, one of the great cities of the Southern Countries."

Though she wanted to see more — indeed, she could have stared at it for hours as if she were a magician casting a massive spell — she pulled away and put on a thoughtful look. "So, Mr. Mont, what is all this for? What do you want?"

"You, of course. But I need you to be honest, and honesty often requires comfort. So, I suppose you could say that all this—" Barris pointed to the world around them. "—is about your comfort." With a smile that suggested a surprise, he pressed another button on his desk.

A young man entered with a stiff walk. He wore black pants, a white shirt and jacket, and had a funny, little tie. He carried a silver, covered tray. When he approached Malja, he bent towards her as if in solemn reverie.

"A little gift," Barris said.

The man lifted the tray cover to reveal one firm, red apple. Malja thanked the young man as she took the apple. Before the young man had left, she bit the fruit.

Delicious. Exquisite. Perfect.

For an instant, she could believe in the world outside the window — she did not stand at the edge of a putrid lake, and the sun gleamed off life like the bursting juice in her apple.

"Good," Barris said as he settled on the couch and patted a spot at his side. She sat, marveling at how the cushion felt softer than a moss bed. He placed his hand on her shoulder and said, "We have much to discuss."

Malja pressed him back like a young girl fending off a kiss yet not wanting to hurt the boy's feelings. "What are you talking about? 'Much to discuss.' I brought you Fawbry. He's the one who wanted to be with you. Though you sure are cute."
What did I just say?
Malja's head felt fuzzy. "Did you ... do something to this apple?"

"No," Barris said, his face filled with worry. "You're reacting to being in my mind. You're not supposed to be here. The experience can be euphoric — and sometimes disrupting. So, listen. I need you to focus. This is important."

"Sure. No trouble. Stay focused. But just know I'm good at a lot more than fighting." Malja lurched forward and whispered quite loudly, "I'm talking about sex."

Barris held Malja's chin and said, "I want ..."

With a drunken slur, Malja said, "You want ..."

"I want you to ..."

"You want me to ..."

"I want you to kill the brothers, Jarik and Callib."

No words, no magic, no concoction of any kind could have snapped her sober faster. "What?" she said, all traces of euphoria flushed from her system. Her skin wriggled like someone had plucked out her dirtiest desire and spoke it out loud just so she could feel its slime dribble down her chest. Maybe that's exactly what happened. Maybe he plucked it right from her head.

She put some distance between them. She couldn't understand how he had made her feel violated. She never had kept quiet about her hatred for Jarik and Callib. Ms. Nolan had known. The Bluesmen knew. Yet she couldn't shake the feeling that she had been severely wronged.

Barris reclined, crossed his legs, and said, "Good, you're clear-headed again. It won't last long though, so focus. Now I know you want to kill them. I want it, too. For different reasons, of course."

"What reasons?"

"No time for that. What matters is that you complete your task. That's why you're here. I have to know with absolute certainty you won't back off at the end. I have to be sure you won't afford them any sliver of compassion."

"You think I won't do it?"

"I think part of you is still a little girl who wants her daddies to love her."

"Gregor loved me."

"But Gregor is not Jarik. Gregor is not Callib. Gregor can't tell you about your mother."

Malja threw her apple at Barris. He ducked and the apple exploded against the wall, leaving behind a wet spot and splatters of fruit. "I'll kill them. It's that simple. I certainly don't need you to motivate me."

"Okay," Barris said, cautiously sliding to the far end of the couch. "Let's move on, then. The boy, Tommy, you must leave him with me."

Malja let a laugh burst out of her, but she had no idea if it was the effect of this place or her honest astonishment. "You were just in my head, you idiot. You should know I won't let him go."

"And yet, you must. If you truly care for him, then you know he is not safe with you. Not with the task you have ahead. He is a liability to you. Jarik and Callib may feel some sense of caring towards you — in fact, I'm counting on it — but they won't care about the boy. They'll use him against you. And that cannot be allowed to happen."

"You're wasting my time. Tommy stays with me."

"You don't understand. The boy is growing, and he'll be vulnerable."

Malja wrinkled her eyebrows. "He's young. He's supposed to grow."

"He's a magician, too," Barris said. Malja's stomach twisted. "And I have given him a second spell."

"You've
given?
"

"In the old days, before the Devastation, before I mutated into the lumbering thing I am, I was a Sotnol. There were many back then. We're not really magicians, yet we're not really just people either. We're the spell givers. More accurately, we unlock spells. I enter a magician's mind and help him or her unlock the potential that resides there."

"And you did this to Tommy."

"He did it to himself. I merely showed him the doorway."

Malja kicked the desk, careening it into the wall with a screech. "If any of this were real, I'd kill you right now."

Barris shrugged. "Lucky for me, then, that I'm big enough to squash you." Barris stood, brushed his pants, and once more rested his arms on Malja's shoulders. She giggled at the thought of dancing with him. "Stay focused," he said.

She snapped back her attention. "I'm not leaving him. I've protected him this long. I'll continue to protect him."

"I expected this. Hoped for otherwise, but expected it nonetheless. So, I'm sending the Chi-Chun woman with you. Her name is Tumus. She'll know how to care for the boy as he adjusts to his new ability."

Malja wanted to argue, but she felt the drunken state just on the edges of her control. "Anything else?"

"Cole Watts will tell you where Jarik and Callib are. Watts is your key." Barris placed a finger on her open lips. "Shh. Patience. Fawbry knows how to find Watts. I do not, and I don't want to know."