A Mage Of None Magic (Book 1) (16 page)

So be it. Let everyone enjoy a chuckle over the preposterous notion of an apprentice magician being disquieted by the presence of a formidable and attractive woman. Why, it didn’t even—

“What’s preposterous?”

Niel snapped around. “Beg your pardon?”

Cally looked annoyed. “You said something was preposterous. I assumed you were talking to me.”

“Oh,” he answered, feeling his ears redden. “I do that sometimes when I’m thinking. Sorry.”

Her annoyance abated a bit. “I’ve heard that talking to yourself is a sign of genius.”

“Then I’ve ruined yet another perfectly good theory.” He glanced at Cally in time to see she’d smiled.

“So, what were you thinking about, since it obviously wasn’t what we’re doing?”

Niel shrugged, trying not to appear self-conscious from her show of interest. “What haven’t I been thinking about.”

“Yeah,” she nodded, “I can imagine the shock to the system from your sudden career change. If it helps at all, you’re not doing all that badly.”

Niel raised his eyebrows. “You think not?”

“Hardest part of a journey into the unfamiliar is taking the first step. You’ve done that, and without Jhar stomping you into paste. That’s saying something.”

“Ah, but the journey’s young yet. Which reminds me, I apologize for my little outburst on the trail earlier. It wasn’t too smart.”

Cally ducked beneath a low, thorny vine. “Well, the trick to mistakes is not repeating them.”

Niel smiled to himself. Biddleby used to say that if you drop an eating prong into your toe, you should learn not to drop anything—not just eating prongs. The old man might have liked her after all. “Still, Peck seemed pretty unhappy with me.”

“He can be that way sometimes.”

“Should I say something to him as well?”

Cally thought for a moment. “I’d let it lie. He’s not the kind to forget. Best thing is to let him notice you not doing it again.”

It sounded like good advice. “What about Jharal?”

She smiled. “Don’t fall asleep before he does.”

Niel considered her answer with like levity. “I wonder what he’d do if I just crawled up to him begging that he go ahead and beat me senseless, please. Just to get it over with.”

That time Cally laughed. “Might confuse him enough to get you out of it.”

Niel watched her face as she enjoyed the thought a moment longer, then as her lovely smile melted away.

“How did someone like you get to be a soldier?” he wondered aloud.

She stiffened again into her usual, reserved demeanor.

“What do you mean, someone like me?” she asked.

He found himself at a loss for an answer. What
had
he meant? “To be honest, I’m not entirely certain,” he replied.

Cally stopped. “No good. I want to know what you meant by that, especially since you don’t know a damn thing about me.”

He gave a loud sigh as he ran his fingers through his hair and turned his back to her. He’d managed to irritate everyone else in the group, so it was probably only a matter of time before Cally yelled at him. Perhaps his luck would turn for the better and Peck’s starving Galiiantha would leap out from behind the trees.

In the meantime Niel decided he’d had his fill of tip-toeing about, hoping not to offend or upset anyone. It had done him little good, anyhow.

“Fine,” he said as he turned back around quickly enough for Cally to take a reflexive step back and drop her hand to her sword. “I’ll tell you exactly what I know about you.” He removed the small pouch he’d been wearing across his shoulders and hung it on a scrawny, dead tree. “First,” he said, holding up a finger, “I know you’re a remarkably intelligent woman, and to be perfectly frank, more than just a little—”

From nowhere, someone pounced onto his back. When Niel spun to defend himself, he discovered his assailant to be the dead tree toppling over from the added weight of his pouch.

With a grumbled curse, Niel batted it aside, watching in amazement as the forest floor collapsed and swallowed the tree and pouch as soon as they struck the ground.

The area surrounding the tree gave way as well, including where he stood. Cally threw her hand out, but not in time. His stomach lurched as he fell.

He landed hard in a shallow brown puddle. Dirt and leaves rained down, making him cough. Niel groaned, then rolled onto his back to see Cally peering over the edge of the opening. He’d only fallen a short distance, about twice his own height—not even far enough to let out the cry of terror he’d gathered.

“You all right?” she called.

He stood slowly, shaking the water from his hands. He rubbed his rump, lower back, and neck—which amazingly didn’t seem to have been made any worse.

“I think so,” he said.

As the cloud of debris settled, Niel noticed the floor was fashioned with flat, carved stones. Many of the sections had symbols cut into them. Just beyond the blackness of the surrounding shadows he saw the openings to a pair of tunnels—one to either side of him.

A strange concert of emotions resonated inside him—the undeniable intrigue of discovery, accompanied by a good bit of guilt for being excited in the first place. He still believed their presence would ultimately be of no benefit to the Galiiantha.

His doubt did little to fetter the smile spreading across his face. “Do you suppose this is what we didn’t know we were looking for?”

***

“Don’t say it.”

Arwin clasped his hand to his chest as he peered down at Niel. “Whatever do you mean? Don’t say what?”

Niel folded his arms. “Don’t say I’ve really gone and put my foot in it this time.”

He heard the others chuckle, though he could see only Arwin beyond the opening above, his face the portrait of a man insulted.

“I’m surprised at you, sir, suggesting I would make such weak sport over the travails of a friend.”

“Here it comes,” Niel said with a sigh.

“Although,” he added on cue, “I don’t mind pointing out you do seem, well, rather
down
at the moment. Is there anything I can do help lift your spirits, as it were?”

“A rope, if you would?” Niel found the driest spot he could and sat cross-legged on the stones. “That is, when you’re done enjoying yourself.”

Arwin ticked his finger at him. “Got the very one,” he said, then disappeared. “Don’t go away!”

Niel looked around at the pit, then at himself plastered in leaves and mud.

“And to think I wanted to get back to the College,” he muttered.

18

“Did not.”

“Did so!”

“Did not.”

“Did so!”

Saia crossed her arms firmly over her chest. “No, you did not see one, because they’re not real.”

Rai, her younger brother, folded his own arms with a huff. “Yes, I did, and they are so real.”

“Father says they’re not,” Saia replied with a sniff. “And what Father says goes.”

Rai lowered his head and shoved his hands into the front pockets of his trousers. “I don’t care what Father says,” he mumbled, scuffing his foot across the ground.

Saia’s mouth fell open in dismay. She pointed a condemning finger. “I’m going to tell Father you said that. Just you wait!”

Her brother shrugged, twisting back and forth. “Still saw one.”

“All right then, clever clogs. What did it look like?”

Rai quickly yanked his hands from his pockets and stretched them out as far as he could. “It was huge! And ugly! And when it walked, the ground shook!”

“I think you have worms in your head.”

“Well, you
are
a worm! A big, fat purple one!”

Saia resumed her previous, superior posture. “You’re so immature.”

Her brother fell silent and contemplated for a moment. “I’ll prove it that I did so see one.”

Saia raised a suspicious eyebrow. “How?”

“I’ll show you the tracks it left.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Where were you when you saw this thing?”

Rai looked away and didn’t answer.

“Where?” she demanded, hands on her hips.

“Oh, all right,” Rai sighed. “I was out near the Edge.”

Saia was aghast. “You went to the Edge of the Forest? We’re not allowed out there!”

“It’s no big deal. I go there all the time.”

“You’re really going to get it when I tell Father!”

Weary of argument, Rai sighed once more and gazed at the leaves high overhead. Tree tops swayed to and fro in the breeze and let bits of brilliant blue peek through. On the forest floor, glittering flecks of sunlight danced.

Just about everyone in his village feared getting too close to the Edge of the Forest. All the stories he’d ever heard suggested that beyond the Edge, there was nothing. No trees, no water—nothing but endless seas of grass under an infinite sky. But Rai very much doubted that. Something inside simply insisted it wasn’t so.

He glanced back at his sister. “Well, you coming or aren’t you?”

“I told you. We’re not allowed.”

He shrugged, then started down the path alone. He had more interesting things to do with his day than quarrel with his sister. He’d found some rocks a few days ago, not far, where a small brook burbled out from underneath. He planned to wander alongside the brook for awhile to see where it led.

Saia wasn’t like that, though. She cared much more for mathematics and examining things than she did about exploring. Whenever Rai picked up a rock to see the pretty designs and colors, Saia would snatch it away to figure out what it weighed, what it was made of, and other boring things like that.

“And it’s not because I’m afraid, so you know!” she called after him. “I was already planning on going home, is all.”

Rai ambled on his way without turning to acknowledge her.

“Oh, all right!” she yelled, then raced to catch up. Rai smiled to himself.

***

When they neared the spot some hours later, Rai grabbed Saia’s hand and ran. Trying to persuade his sister to move quickly frustrated him greatly; she seemed determined to trip over every rock and root in their path.

They stopped at a large patch of thick, grey mud, at which Rai pointed his finger and beamed a triumphant smile. “Those,” he said, “are its tracks!”

Saia glared with distrust—first at her grinning brother, then at the mud. Impressed into the forest floor were several sets of footprints, or what
appeared
to be footprints. They were gargantuan; easily three or four times as long as she was tall.

Saia removed from inside her shirt collar the small magnifying glass she wore on a cord and knelt to make a closer examination. The whole affair could be another of Rai’s practical jokes; a trap probably lay waiting to introduce her head-first into the mud.

She gingerly dipped her finger into the cool, pasty puddle, letting it sink to the third knuckle, though it was obviously far deeper. Any moment, she told herself, a net would explode up around her, and Rai would skip away laughing and giggling.

She leaned forward until her nose was but a thumbwidth from the surface. She marveled at the prints, each in perfect proportion to the others in both shape and scale. Their incredible size suggested something bigger than—

She looked at her brother, who still wore a victorious smile. Then she stood, brushing the dirt from her knees. “I’m not falling for this.”

Rai’s smile collapsed into disbelief. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that I don’t know how you did it, or why you did it, but I refuse to believe these are what they appear to be.”

Flustered, Rai stammered for a reply. “But… I mean… you
see
them, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Saia answered indifferently. “I see them.”

“Then why can’t you… why don’t you, you know, use some of your sciencey math stuff or something and prove they’re real?”

“Nope,” Saia said. “I’ve no doubt the prints are real. What I don’t believe is that the giant you said made them is real.” She turned and started back the way they’d come.

Frustration boiled up to fill Rai’s insides. “You’re just stupid, that’s all!”

Saia faced him. “Stupid enough to let you drag me all the way out here. It’s going to be dark soon. So let’s go.”

“I’m going to tell Father on you!”

Saia climbed over a fallen tree and continued on her way. “Tell him,” she said. “But what are you going to say when he asks where we’ve been all day? That we were out at the Edge of the Forest?”

“If I have to,” Rai threatened. “I’ll tell him everything! And then when he hears all about it, how you were too scared to even want to come in the first place, he’ll want to come out and see them for himself! And he’ll be so proud of me for finding the footprints that everyone in the village will tell me how brave and clever I am, and they’ll just laugh at you!” Hot tears gathered. “You’ll see!”

“No,” Saia said, “I think if you tell him, we’ll both get our hides tanned and then be sent to bed without supper. And I’m too hungry for that, so you’d best keep quiet about the whole silly thing. No one will believe you, anyway.”

Rai fumed. Saia was using her Grown-up Voice. He positively hated her Grown-up Voice. “They will so!”

“Will not.”

“Will so!”
Rai screamed.

His sister shook her head. “How I really wish you’d been a girl instead.”

***

Full dark had fallen by the time they arrived home, and Mother was every bit as upset as they’d feared. She scolded them harshly, telling them how ashamed they should be for making her worry. She seemed especially cross with Saia, saying she should have known better than to be gone for so long, and should have been more responsible in looking after Rai.

She gave them their supper nonetheless, but left them alone at the table to brood over the lingering sting of her words. The children sat on opposite sides, each looking up only long enough to scowl at the other. To make matters worse, by the time the two made it back Father had already gone to look for them. So they picked at their plates in silent dread of his return, neither of them eating much despite being famished.

A short while later, from the kitchen they heard the front door bang open and their father’s deep, loud voice ask, “Are they here?”

They heard their mother answer, followed by a series of barely audible whispers that made them glance at one another, concerned. Little good ever came from parents whispering.

A moment later their heads turned in the direction of the creaking kitchen door. There stood Father, arms folded, eyes fierce beneath thick, downturned brows.

“Does someone want to tell me where you two have been for so long?” he said in a low rumble.

“Just out playing, Father,” Saia replied.

“Yes, playing,” Rai confirmed.

“Is that so? How is it today you played together for so long a time, when normally it takes less than ten minutes for one of you to come crying with either teeth marks on the arm or a little red hand print on the back? I’d think after so many hours alone together, one of you wouldn’t have come back at all.”

The children sat quietly, uncertain how to respond. Father was clever at such things.

“Where were you playing?” he asked.

No answer.

Their father stalked closer from the entryway then took a seat between them at the end of the table. He reached into his vest and pulled out a small cloth pouch. From another pocket down by his waist he slid out a small, curled pipe. With two fingers he tugged the drawstring to open the pouch, pinched out a bit of the dark, leafy stuff inside, and poked it into the bowl of his pipe. He shook the little bag closed, replaced it in his vest, then produced a match. He snapped off the top of the match with his thumbnail, making it burst into a fierce, prickly flame. Once the flame calmed, he moved it over the pipe until the tobacco wore a crown of glowing orange, and after a few puffs he exhaled a long plume of purplish, sweet-smelling smoke, then extinguished the match.

Father followed the ritual whenever he lit his pipe, something the children normally enjoyed watching—especially because he usually let one of them blow out the match. But when displeased, the motions took on an ominous quality. Rai likened it to an executioner sharpening his axe; Saia always thought that was a ridiculous thing for her brother to say.

“I followed your tracks outward quite awhile,” their father said. “I might have followed them all the way out to the Edge had it not still been light enough to notice the second set coming back the other way. ” He puffed again and exhaled. “Were you two out by the Edge?”

The children exchanged condemned looks. “Yes, sir,” they replied in unison.

Father leaned heavily, angrily onto the table. “Does someone want to explain why you went out that way when I’ve forbidden it?”

Saia gestured toward her brother. “Tell him, Rai.”

Their father glared. “Tell me what?”

Rai shrugged. “I saw something, and went to go see what it was is all.”

“What was it you thought you saw?”

The question made Rai sit up straight. “I didn’t think I saw it,” he said firmly. “I
did
see it.”

Saia groaned and dropped her head down onto her folded arms.

One corner of Father’s mouth crept up, but just a little.

“All right, then,” he sadi. “What
did
you see?”

Rai recounted everything. The path, the footprints—even about the interesting rocks with the water burbling out of them. When he finished his tale, he sat back defiantly in his chair, arms crossed. Their father blinked a few times, absorbing what he’d heard.

He turned to Saia. “And you went with him?”

Saia sat up quickly, alarmed. “Yes, but I…”

“No,” her father said, holding up his hand. “No buts. You’re older and should have known better. You’re grounded.”

“But I tried to stop him!”

“Then you should have found
me!
” Father all but roared. “You two have no idea what’s out there near the Edge, and I will not have you tromping off whenever you feel like it! Do you hear me?”

“Yes, sir,” came Saia’s defeated reply.

Father swung back around to Rai. “And you. Not only are you grounded, but you’ll go without dessert until I say otherwise. You’re getting too big to be acting so foolishly, and I want it to stop. Do
you
hear me?”

“Yes, sir,” he answered.

Their father sat back down and said to Saia, “Go tell your mother goodnight. I want to talk to your brother for a moment.” He pointed the stem of his pipe at the kitchen door.

Saia rose from her seat, offering Rai a sneer that quickly turned to a malicious smile when she realized her younger brother was surely about to get what he deserved.

Once alone, Father said to Rai gently, but firmly, “I want you to promise you’ll stop running off on these adventures of yours.”

“But Father…”

“No, Rai. I don’t want to hear it. You’re growing up, and there are many things about the world for you to learn. And many things about the world you simply must accept.”

With that, Father stood, yawning, briefly letting his long, incandescent wings spread fully. They trembled as he stretched before folding back neatly behind him. “And the first thing you must accept is that there are simply no such things as giants.”

The child sighed. “Yes, sir.”

“Good. Now go kiss your mother and get to bed.”