The Way of the Blade (24 page)

She would learn. That was the dream he wanted to see. Druzane on her knees, her head pressing to the floor, groveling for even a morsel of his attention. He wanted her to shake with fear because she would know deep to her bones that he had become godlike, and like the stories of old, he would smite her for betraying him.

Javery startled awake. He was floating, staring at a golden ceiling, feeling gravity push him back to the ground but unable to lower. Slimy, metal chains posted into the walls had been tied around his wrists and ankles. They kept him suspended above the floor of an impressive room.

Gold covered every surface, bouncing light and turning the air amber and beautiful. Beneath him were numerous pillows and cushions of all sizes. Olive silks hung from the walls. Everything about the room displayed wealth, power, and taste. Except for him. Having him quartered in the middle of the room, held aloft by rusting metal chains did not fit.

Stranger still — he finally noticed that he was not in agonizing pain. His leg, his palm, his sides, the back of his head — all of his injuries appeared to have been healed. He had been stripped and cleaned, and according to the messages his brain received from his body, he had suffered no lasting damage.

He gave the chains a shake. They looked like they would snap at any moment, but each shake showed him that these chains were solid and not breaking without an extreme effort, if even then.

He heard her approach long before she walked in. Methodical steps. A quiet tapping like water dripping steadily off of a leaf. A sound so gentle and clean that it never prepared him for what he saw.

The Pali Witch proved to be every bit as horrible as he had seen right before passing out. Worse, in fact. Because in addition to that face of a half-beauty, half-monstrosity, her body also bore the same division. As if a dull sword had cleaved her diagonally from shoulder to hip, a jagged scar cut across her. The bottom half off this line remained human — a middle-aged woman’s body, not well-fed but not wasting away either. The top half — stone, mud, wood, and bone. She wore a tattered robe that hung limply over her skeletal frame and spread out to cover her to the floor. Javery thanked Carsite he did not have to see what disfigured horror formed her legs.

“Why are you on my island?” she said. Her voice sounded old — older than Shual — and a clicking sound lay under her words as if something in her throat did not line up correctly. Or perhaps the rock that covered her skin reached internally, too.

Javery turned his head to keep her in sight. “I’m here for the same reason I imagine all people come to see you. I want the secrets to magic. I want to learn that power.”

“Learn? Not many come here to learn.” She had her back to him, yet she kept moving closer. “Most, in fact, demand. They want the power and nothing more. But you want to learn the power. That’s very different.”

“Please. I’ve come a far way.”

“Everyone comes a far way to get here. And all have a reason they feel is vital.” That clicking sound under her voice grated in Javery’s ears. She stood inches from him now and crouched so the back of her antlered head was on level with his face. She smelled of turned soil and decay.

Javery tried to remember what he knew of her. “The tests. I’m willing to take any test, face any challenge you require.”

“Fairy tales. There are no tests. If you wish to learn, then I will teach.”

“That’s it? I only had to ask?”

Never moving faster than when she walked in, she now turned to face him, and he saw the worst part of her — her eyes. They glowed like dying embers, and he swore he could see smoke trailing from them. Carsite help him, he could smell it — old wood in a campfire. They rolled in on themselves, the heat melting and reforming before him. Even if he hadn’t been chained, he knew fear froze him in place.

She made a sniffing sound, and only then did Javery notice she lacked a nose. Just a skeletal opening. “You’ve healed well.”

Those eyes gave him nothing — no sense of where she looked or what she might be thinking. “Thank you for that.”

“You wish to learn and you thank me. Hmm. I think I’ve chosen well.”

“Chosen?”

“I don’t save people who can’t reach my home. But you — three days ago I saw you crash and swim and fight your way up here.”

“Three days? I’ve been unconscious that long?”

“No. You’ve been unconscious for about twelve hours. I saw your crash and struggles in a vision. And I’ve learned to respect the visions magic bestows upon me.”

“It can do that? Let you see the future?”

“Magic is unlike anything you think of it. With your Great Well and your Snake-Magic, you think you’ve seen what power is, but I assure you, you understand nothing. That is why there is no test. The magic itself is enough of a test. If you pass, you live. Fail, and well, you’ve climbed over many failures to reach here.”

He could only nod. Apparently, it was enough. She backed up several steps and made a motion with her hand. The chains loosened, and Javery dropped to the soft cushions and pillows below.

“Thank you,” he said, bowing his head.

“As you learn, you will be free to roam my island, though I suggest you wait until you’ve acquired some basic skills.”

Javery rubbed his wrists and ankles as he listened. Then he asked, “Is it just us here? Do you have anyone else?”

“Servants? Magic provides all I need. And so it will for you. There is only one rule to follow.” She raised her disfigured arm and pointed an extra-long finger at a simple, wooden door. “You must never go in there. Do you understand?”

“I’ll do anything you say, if it means I will learn to wield true power.”

The Witch paused, as if contemplating how to take full advantage of such an offer. At length, she simply said, “Then let’s begin.”

Chapter 25

Malja

Malja stood by the railing on a twelve-seat autofly. A small fleet of ten autoflys crossed the countryside with Krunlo and Canto leading the way. They had been flying for five hours and the day had little left to give. Fawbry and Tommy sat close by while a pilot chosen by Canto guided them along. Behind, the rest of the fleet followed, each with five to six men aboard.

Fawbry joined Malja at the railing. “You look troubled. Well, more than usual.”

Malja watched the land flow underneath. The rocky outgrowths sticking up at odd angles. The sporadic homes scattered haphazardly about by those who preferred isolation to community. “All that open land, and these people are at war over a few meager towns. It makes no sense. If the Scarites don’t like where they live because it’s too barren, why not come live here?”

“This doesn’t look that much better, does it?”

“But then, at least, they’d be on their home soil. Shouldn’t that be the point? They’d be in a position to make a lasting peace. They could even find a Great Well around here and start their own floating farms. They’d have a chance.”

“The Scarites refused?”

“Apparently.” Malja turned around, leaning her elbows back on the railing. “I didn’t really ask, but this war has gone on for decades, and they’re still living on that island. I can’t believe nobody ever came up with the idea.”

“Then this isn’t about the land itself. It’s about the towns and their homes.”

“That’s what troubles me. If the Scarites only wanted to be in this country, only wanted a viable place to live, I think we could get through to Canto and the others to give the Scarites some of this land that nobody wants. But the Scarites want their town back. They want to turn back what has happened and somehow get the Carsites to leave, to pretend they haven’t raised their own generations in these same towns, to walk away without leaving behind a mark of their existence. How do you find compromise in that?”

Tommy had stretched his legs across two seats. Looking at Malja, he answered the question by shaking his head and cutting his hand across his throat.

“I think so, too,” Fawbry said. “Compromise means sacrifice on both sides. It means that nobody gets what they truly want, but that they find a way to be satisfied with what they can have. I don’t think the Carsites or the Scarites are willing to sacrifice anything for the other.”

Malja nodded grimly. “Not when they both share the same goal to be the sole people in control of these towns. And if the Scarite version of events is true, if the Carsites are really the oppressors, the instigators, then what does that mean for us?”

“Don’t think like that. Power comes and goes. Look at our home. In Corlin, before the Devastation, the magicians ruled everything. They had all the power. After — magicians had to hide who they were or else get killed. Whatever the past, the Carsites are the ones in trouble now. They clearly lost a lot of their strength and focused on being farmers over the decades. They’re not the people who caused all this — just the descendants of those people.”

“That doesn’t excuse what they did.”

“Except we don’t know what they did. We don’t know which story is true.”

Tommy moved his hand across his forehead as if grabbing his mind and tossing it away.

Malja said, “I think you’re right. They’ve forgotten. They don’t know what the truth is anymore. Which brings me right back to where I keep ending up — what’s our job in all of this? What position do we take?”

Fawbry chuckled. “You never do handle the politics well. Give you something to cut down, and you don’t hesitate, but when it comes to people, you need a guy like me.”

Dozens of snide remarks filled Malja’s head, but she bit back on all of them. From the way Fawbry shrunk a little under her glare, she guessed her eyes gave away enough of her thoughts. “I’m listening,” she said.

Fawbry puffed up and paced the deck of the autofly. “It’s not all that hard, really. We may not be real gods —”

“
May?
”

Tommy grinned.

Like a teacher annoyed by a student, Fawbry frowned. “Fine. We are not gods, but to the Carsites, to their level of existence, we are exactly that. And if you don’t agree, you can certainly accept that we are, at least, far beyond their level. Such a difference in knowledge and experience by its very nature sets up certain relationships between the parties involved.”

To Tommy, Malja said, “He really enjoys hearing himself speak.”

“Very funny,” Fawbry said. “Look, the point is this — perhaps we should play the role of a god, or if you prefer, a parent. We can be disappointed in their past choices but accepting of them nonetheless. And always be there to help and guide them to better choices in the future.”

“We’re not spending the next decade here training these people to be civil with each other.”

“I’m not suggesting that.”

“Why bother with this, anyway? Shouldn’t we just focus on taking down Harskill? That’s the real point, isn’t it? It doesn’t matter what happens to the Carsites and Scarites as long as they aren’t being influenced by Harskill.”

“You don’t believe that.” Fawbry sat and leaned forward, elbows to knees. “You know it matters. Life is always more complex because we have to deal with the results of our actions. I know you well enough. You couldn’t live knowing you left these people to suffer from something Harskill created.”

Massaging her temples, Malja said, “I don’t know if you’re helping me or making it worse.”

“Well —”

From ahead, Krunlo bellowed, “It’s here!”

All the autoflys circled a long swatch of land. Though Malja knew this had been the reason for coming out this way, she still found the sight a bit surprising. The front half of a cargo ship stuck out of the ground like an enormous version of the local rock formations.

The vessel reminded Malja of the ship where she had found Tommy, only this one lacked the sophistication, the proper lines, and the twisted Captain. Wide and deep enough to carry tons of material, the ship also had a long, flat deck and what appeared to be a tiny house built on top — though most of that structure remained underground. Much of the wood looked rotted even from a distance, but the metal appeared intact with little visible rust.

As the autoflys set down, Canto pointed to various men. “Get digging. You two, check to see what works inside. Be careful. You — I want a full inventory of what weaponry is aboard. This is our only hope against the Scarites, so let’s move it!” The men gave a full-hearted cheer and hurried to their jobs.

Krunlo and Canto walked over to Malja. “You see,” Krunlo said, spreading his arms wide. “I told you this was out here.”

“Why is that?” Malja asked. “Why have you waited until now? If I had grown up here, I would’ve gotten that ship ready to fight immediately.”

With an embarrassed nod, Canto said, “Mostly because of Shual. It was his father’s generation that built this ship. They used it, and they were disturbed by its power. Part of one of the many truces we’ve had with the Scarites included the dismantling of this ship.”

“But it wasn’t dismantled.”

“We worried that the Scarites would go back on their deal with us — which they did. So, we set it out here to die.”

“Knowing you could always come back here, if you needed.”