The Way of the Power Read online

Tommy eased her back and continued his spell. Soon, she felt cool, soothing water cascading over her body. It cleared her head and reduced her pain.

  “Damn Korstra,” she said, noticing the strength returning to her voice. She had lost a fight and had lost Harskill. They had managed to accomplish nothing more than get bruised and beaten. Pushing through her aches, she sat up. “I’ll be fine enough in a moment. Then we go.” Stray better be at their rendezvous point. If he had died playing the decoy, she would make this world pay. She would wipe out every last camp she found.

  It took Malja two attempts to stand, and even then, she leaned on Tommy’s shoulder as they exited the house. “When did you get tall enough to hold me up?” she muttered. He straightened, gaining another inch in height. She tried to laugh, but her back flared pain from her spine out to her side.

  The walk out to the woods went faster than walking in to the town. The various camps had either settled down after Stray’s commotion or still floundered in disarray. None paid any attention to two shadows stumbling around trees. The few camps with guards still doing their job put such resources into watching for Stray’s return from the south. So, Malja and Tommy passed by via the north.

  When they finally reached Stray, he had a leather-skinned creature about as long as his arm skewered to a stick and roasting over a fire. “Thought you might be hungry,” he said, smiling. Upon seeing Malja’s condition, he jumped over to help Tommy set her down by the fire. “Are you okay? What happened? Do you need aid?”

  “Shut up and give me a plate of whatever you got cooking.”

  Stray grinned. “You can’t be too hurt, if your personality is the same.” With a hunting knife, he sliced off a piece of meat. It was dark gray with bits of gristle throughout. “It’s gratter — a bit unusual this late in the season but sometimes they get caught by an early snowfall.”

  Malja sniffed the gratter meat — a bit like sour milk. Hunger overcame the distasteful odor. She popped it into her mouth. Bland, but considering the smell, bland was good.

  Staving off Stray’s endless questions, Malja explained all that had occurred as concisely as possible. As she finished, he tossed the inedible portions of the gratter into the woods. “I’m sure you fought hard, and Harskill escaped only because Abrazkia got the better of you.”

  “You suck at making a person feel better.”

  “I’m disappointed but not surprised.” He poked the fire with a stick, his face debating whether to speak yet. Finally, he said, “When we get back, I would like you and Tommy to assist the Artisoll in returning here with me. You’ve tried to help, and it is appreciated, but this is our world and our fight. Leave us here and let our destiny decide what may or may not happen.”

  “Destiny?” She looked at Tommy. “He doesn’t know me at all.”

  “I understand that you find this difficult, but you are in no condition to help anymore. I thank you for your service to the Artisoll, but the time has come to bring her home and part ways.”

  “Give me a day and I can fight again. My clothing and Tommy’s magic can patch me together quite well. Well enough to get by, at least.”

  “Please, don’t argue.”

  “You’re the one with the fight in his head. This is simple. We don’t do this halfway. I’ll stop when the Artisoll is where she belongs and this world is no longer at war over something I did.”

  “It wasn’t you. It was the Queen’s passing. And all I ask is that —”

  “We’ll get you here. I don’t know how yet, but will find a way. I have a suit just like Harskill’s. Perhaps I can make a portal.”

  “But Tommy —”

  “I won’t put him through that any more than absolutely necessary.”

  Tommy ignored the argument, walked several feet away, and studied his tattoos until a portal formed. The crackling of his magic got their attention. He gestured to the portal, and the argument ceased.

  Malja groaned as she stood, and when Stray offered his hand, she took it. “We’re not through with this,” she said, “but for now, let’s go back to Carsite and regroup.”

  “Agreed. I’ve been away from the Artisoll for too long.”

  Holding Malja close, the three stepped through the portal and returned to the edge of the farm. They would have to walk the rest of the way — about ten minutes at her current pace.

  Malja half-jokingly punched Tommy’s shoulder. “You couldn’t get us any closer?”

  Before he could respond with a rude gesture, they heard a shrill scream followed by Hirasa crying out for help.

  Chapter 14

  Stray sprinted off toward the manor. Malja shoved Tommy to follow. “I’ll be fine,” she said, stumbling along but managing to stay upright. Tommy obeyed, racing after Stray.

  As Malja neared the building, Hirasa’s cries ceased. However, no sound filled the space. Malja kept expecting to hear furniture crash or swords clang or gunfire or anything to signify Stray locked in heated battle, but all she heard were the quiet chirps of field skilts as they flitted around the night air.

  When she entered through the front door, she found Hirasa sitting on the bottom step of the foyer staircase. “What happened?” Malja asked.

  Hirasa clasped her hands to her chest and rested the side of her head against the wall. Tears continued to dribble down her face though she no longer made a sound.

  “Stray? Tommy? Fawbry?”

  At the mention of Fawbry, Hirasa buried her head in her hands and whimpered. Malja pulled out Viper, but the weapon felt heavy. She paused long enough to concentrate on her do-kha — please, kill my pain, stitch my wounds, do whatever you must to see me through these next few moments.

  Warmth washed over her body as the do-kha tightened around her. Her numerous bruises and wounds dulled their complaints. Wanting to finish this as fast as possible but fearing she might injure herself worse if she ran, she climbed the stairs at a deliberate pace.

  Midway down the hall, Malja found Stray and Tommy consoling the Artisoll. The young woman looked as shaken as Hirasa. Malja had never seen that much emotion on the Artisoll’s face before. She wanted to shove aside the men and hold that distraught face to her bosom as if she had birthed the Artisoll and could claim motherhood. But when the Artisoll looked up, the desire passed — something in that woman’s eyes felt calculated.

  Malja walked beyond the trio and stopped at the open door a few feet down. What she found in the bathing room hardly equaled the horrors she had witnessed on many battlefields, yet her stomach revolted. Vomit raced up her throat, and she wretched in the hallway.

  It wasn’t the fact that blood drenched the room — streams and spatters covering the walls like abstract art. It wasn’t the fact that Lynoya’s blood had been the paint used for the canvas or that her body had been torn into pieces and discarded in the tub. What horrified Malja was that Fawbry stood in the middle of the room holding a carving knife in his one hand like a paintbrush.

  Blood beaded on his face like sweat while more sluiced down the drainage hole under the tub. Bits of hair clung to Fawbry’s knife, and at first Malja thought the hair had been Lynoya’s. But as the shock wore off, she saw that Fawbry had butchered his own hair. With either water or blood, he slicked down what remained.

  Malja stepped into the bathroom, and Fawbry flinched. “Fawbry? What’s going on here?”

  It took a moment for him to recognize her, but once he did, he let the knife clatter to the floor. When he spoke, however, his voice had lost all the lightness, amusement, and joy that it most often contained. His tone dropped into darkness. “You’re back. Good. I did as you asked. I protected the Artisoll.”

  “I can see that.”

  “After you left, Lynoya tried to convince me to return to Raxholden with her. She said I belonged there as the Sheriff. That was my calling. She said you were all crazy and that being out here alone was too dangerous. She was afraid we’d be attacked again. But I refused to abandon my post. Then she said she would go back and tell Canto t
hat we planned to return. She threatened to organize a group to get rid of us so that no more creatures attacked anywhere near Raxholden. She threatened us. She threatened the Artisoll. I protected us. I protected the Artisoll.”

  “Yes, you did. A good job, too. But the danger has gone now, and I’m here to help.”

  Fawbry lifted his chin and inspected Malja. “You look like you need help more than you can give it.”

  “Then why don’t you help me. Stray and Tommy are here. They’ll watch the Artisoll for you while you clean up.”

  In a daze, Fawbry nodded. Malja backed out of the bathroom and closed the door. Nobody needed to watch.

  When she returned to the others in the hall, Stray said, “Don’t be mad at him. This is what happens when untrained people are tasked with guarding the Artisoll. I was chosen for this, spent years preparing. A mind like Fawbry’s can’t handle the magic radiating off of her. Spending so much time with her and being told to protect her — it’s too much for him.”

  “You didn’t think this was important for us to know? I would never have let Fawbry stay with her, if I had known —”

  “I should had told you. I’m sorry. I forget that you are unaware of these things. On Reo-Koll, everyone knows. I’ve made a horrid mistake.”

  Tommy gestured towards his head, then made signs for empty and time.

  Malja said, “Tommy wants to know how long this will last. Has Fawbry lost his mind completely or will this wear off if we get him away from the Artisoll?”

  “The degree of reaction, the length of it, all depends on the individual. That’s why there are people like me who are not affected. Other guards have a very high tolerance. On the opposite end, I’ve seen people go mad after only a few minutes with the Artisoll. Most, however, can handle a few hours, and since most never meet her at all, it’s never really a problem. Once she goes through the Rising and becomes Queen, she’ll have full control over her magic, and the issue no longer exists.”

  “But does Fawbry get his mind back when that happens? When she becomes Queen?”

  “Each person is different. But I guarantee that as long as the Artisoll remains the Artisoll, as long as Fawbry remains in her presence, he will only get worse.” Stray grabbed Tommy and spun him so that their noses bumped. “We must ferry the Artisoll back to Reo-Koll. You have the power to do so. Please, help us.”

  Tommy’s emphatic nod struck Malja like a gunshot. She pushed the men apart. “No. When Tommy uses his magic, it can cause damage to him — especially a spell as powerful as a portal. We have to be careful with him.”

  “Shouldn’t he decide for himself?” Stray said.

  “He’s just as swayed by the Artisoll as Fawbry. Maybe not to the point of killing others, but in his state of mind, he’d probably kill himself for her, if she wanted.”

  “It’s only one more time. You, the Artisoll, and I could go through and —”

  Hirasa rushed over, wiping her cheeks as she shouted. “I’m coming, too. This has to be worth something. Her death has to mean something. So, you have to take me along. Besides, you can always use another fighter. Malja knows I’m a good fighter.”

  Tommy thumped his chest, demanding to go along as well.

  “We can’t leave Fawbry behind, then,” Malja said. “We’ll have to keep a close eye on him, but I refuse to abandon him. That’s too many people for my do-kha to protect in one trip across. Tommy would have to create portal after portal or keep a single one open for a long time. I won’t do that to him, and I won’t allow him to do that to himself.”

  Stray’s face tightened and he threw his fist into the wall. “How dare you threaten the life of the Artisoll. We have a solution to getting her back to Reo-Koll yet you deny it for the safety of another. No other is more important that the Artisoll. I have sworn to give my life in protecting her.”

  “But we haven’t. Tommy has been in my care since he was a boy.”

  “He’s a man now. Let him make his own decisions.”

  “By your own admission — by the bloody mess down the hall — her magic is influencing the decisions of my friends. How can I let him sacrifice his life when he can’t think clear enough to know what that means?”

  “You don’t have a problem when he uses his magic to your benefit.”

  Malja’s hand reached behind and gripped Viper. “I’ve always regretted when he uses any magic. And I won’t have you judging me like this.”

  Stray’s face dropped in surprise, but his gaze went away from Malja. She heard the crackling behind her and saw light flickering on the walls of the hallway. When she turned around, her heart sank.

  Tommy and the Artisoll sat at the end of the hall, holding hands, while bits of orange and yellow energy arced between them. Though engrossed in a tattoo on his leg, one that had never existed before this moment, Tommy projected a sense of attentiveness to the Artisoll. For her part, the Artisoll kept her head up and offered an eerie grin.

  Stray stroked his mustache. “The Artisoll is sharing her magic? I didn’t know this was possible.”

  The air in the hallway shimmered. With a boom like thunder breaking overhead, the entire area behind the two magicians opened up into the snow-covered forest of Dovell on Reo-Koll.

  “Stop it,” Malja said. “You two are going to hurt yourselves.”

  Stray gathered what little they had. “Let’s not be fools. The portal is open. We must take advantage of what we have been given.”

  “But —”

  “The longer they are forced to maintain the portal, the longer the risk. Yes?”

  Malja assented and turned back to Hirasa. “I can take two at a time. Stray and Fawbry first. Then you. Then the Artisoll and Tommy. If we do it fast enough —”

  Fawbry stepped into the hall. “Holy Brother Gods!”

  Malja looked back and her voice caught. She couldn’t believe what she witnessed. Tommy and the Artisoll stood and walked through the portal. No burns. No loss of limb. No screams. No death. They had created a stable portal that anybody could travel through.

  “Quickly,” Stray said. “Everyone through.”

  Fawbry pointed at Tommy with his one hand. “I lost my hand and you could have done that the whole time?”

  “He couldn’t,” Malja said. “It’s the Artisoll. Now, if you care about either of them, you’ll run through there and help us get her to the temple for this Rising. We won’t have much more time before Abrazkia notices. You understand? Abrazkia will find out this has happened. She won’t, she can’t, allow this. Unless we help them, creating this portal had condemned Tommy and the Artisoll to death.”

  Chapter 15

  The instant Tommy and the Artisoll closed the portal, Malja ordered the group to build a camp for the night. Hirasa jumped to work. Fawbry and Stray, however, wanted to get moving toward the temple.

  “She has to be there when the Rising comes,” Stray said.

  “We will be. But look at them both. They’re exhausted. They may make it look simple enough, but creating portals is the most difficult magic there is. Difficult to cast, and far more difficult to control. My entire world was destroyed because our best magicians couldn’t control this magic. So give them a few hours to rest. Besides, Fawbry’s only just starting to sound normal, and I don’t know what to do about him. So, we’ll get the Artisoll to the temple, but not yet. It’s not that far anyway, right?”

  After checking the Artisoll, Stray withheld further protest. Her eyes had large dark circles and her skin had paled. Tommy looked no better.

  Hirasa built a small fire, and in minutes the group had fallen asleep. No one wanted to admit it, but they all welcomed the rest. Malja most of all.

  She nominated herself for the first watch, and as she sat on a fallen log, she felt her do-kha stitching her back together. Little pinpricks and sharp stings ignited her skin around each wound. It was a remarkable thing, this do-kha, but there had to be a limit. If not to what the do-kha could do for her, then certainly to what she cou
ld endure.

  Gate are not gods. Some act like it, but they are not. Then again, she had never faced anything like Abrazkia. The strength and unpredictability of the woman made her more dangerous than even the wildest, most brainless beasts Malja had ever fought.

  More disturbing — no matter her feelings toward those Gate she had encountered so far, she could not deny her identity. She was Gate, too. At least, she was born Gate. Gate by blood but not by belief. Could she be such a thing? If so, what did that actually make her?

  She tried to shake off these thoughts, but her eyes fell upon Fawbry. He slept on the far side of the campfire — alone. She had forgiven him for the horror he had created. It had not been his fault. But she couldn’t blame the Artisoll, either. The Artisoll had not intentionally scrambled Fawbry’s mind. It was simply an aspect of her magic like heat radiating from her body. But none of this understanding could bring Lynoya back or erase the image of Fawbry standing in a room of blood.

  Malja knew that Tommy would understand eventually. Once the Artisoll became Queen, the influence of her magic would no longer possess the boys, and Tommy would know exactly what Fawbry had gone through. Still, she found it difficult to look at Fawbry for long.

  Hours later, Stray awoke and settled next to her on the log. “I don’t like how things are. Still, I must thank you.”

  “Oh sure. Anytime you want me to come to your world and create chaos, I’m happy to oblige.”

  “You did create a lot of chaos, and I’m not sure it was worth it. But you also saved my life. I would have stood my ground against all three sides of that fight, and I would have died. They would have slaughtered each other until whichever side brought the most soldiers won and took the Artisoll. After that, who knows what would have happened? Maybe the people of the world would simply accept the winning side and continue on. Yet I strongly doubt it.”

  “Yeah. People don’t mind corruption when they can deceive themselves into thinking they get a fair part of the deal. But when they see somebody steal the rule of a kingdom — or in this case, an entire world — well, they don’t like it as much.”