A Magic King (41 page)

"Why aren't there any about?" She covered her nose, trying to shut out the stench brought by the stale breeze.

"The Tarveen sleep during the day. There won't be any about until dusk."

She nodded, then turned her troubled gaze onto the horizon. Daken's gaze focused on her, studying her face and her expressions with an angry air.

"What is it, Jane?" His voice was harsh and demanding.

She just shook her head. "That stuff about them sleeping during the day. I should know that."

Daken nodded, grimly agreeing with her.

"Dr. Beavesly's memories are usually so clear and specific. He was a trained observer with a very organized mind. But not when it came to the Tarveen."

"The Tarveen upset many people. I've seen grown men run in terror at the sight—"

"No, it's not that. He was a spirit..." At Daken's confused expression, she stumbled into an explanation even she found hard to understand. "He was an Old One attached to the computer. Both alive and not alive at the same time."

"And it is his memories you turn to as Keeper?"

Jane nodded. "Except whenever it has to do with the Tarveen, they're fuzzy. As though they're repressed or something. I don't understand it, and it bothers me."

Daken swore beneath his breath. "Are you telling me you don't know where this entrance is?"

Jane looked up, startled by the venom in his tone. "No, of course not. I have a clear picture of the whole area, but in all that, I can't grasp a full memory of a Tarvite."

"Perhaps this doctor tried to spare you the sight."

Jane shook her head, knowing that wasn't it. "There's something I'm missing. Some memory, some key. I just have to find it..."

Daken dismissed her strange words with a wave of his hand. "If you know this secret entrance, then that is enough."

Jane shook her head. "Not enough, but it's all we have."

With a sigh, she started to pick her way through the debris toward what once was an automobile factory. Daken followed, his impatience with her was clear.

"How far away is this entrance?"

She lifted her arm, pointed to a pile of broken rock and steel girders. "Just behind th—!"

He moved faster than lightening. One moment they were talking, picking their way up a trash-choked hill. The next second, he held his bastard sword poised to strike and jerked her behind him with a force that wrenched her arm painfully in its socket.

He stared at a jagged block of concrete just to their right. "Come out now, Tarvite," he growled.

"Do they understand Common?" she asked, her voice hushed and low.

"I have never tried to talk to one before."

Jane remained well behind Daken, giving him room to fight, but even so, she craned her neck around, trying to see behind the obstruction.

They heard the movement long before they saw anything. Something scrambled over the ruins, pushing aside the rocks and pebbles clotting the area.

"Stay here," Daken ordered as he began edging around enough to see, but not enough to leave the relatively open, flat ground. Jane followed a pace behind, needing to see almost as desperately as she needed to stay within close proximity to Daken. There was something evil about this place. Something so horrible even Dr. Beavesly couldn't face it.

The sounds came closer. Whoever or whatever it was, wasn't bothering to disguise his approach.

"See anything?" she asked, her throat tight with fear.

Daken waved her to silence as he continued to edge around. Jane spared a glance behind her. The land remained as still as before, so she returned her nervous sight to the concrete blocking their view.

It was almost upon them. She could hear heavy breathing. She tensed, though God only knew what she would do. She had her dagger, the one Daken gave her so long ago. But from what she'd heard, if she got close enough to use it on a Tarvite, it was already too late.

She saw Daken drop to a crouch, his sword ready to strike, clearly intending to catch it by surprise. Jane bit her lip, wondering how she felt about that. Amazing how her anti-violence sentiments seemed to waver when fear began eating at her insides.

Then suddenly, she saw it. A dirty, blond head seemed to pop over the top, quickly followed by small shoulders and a thin chest, all of which froze at the sight of Daken springing forward sword high.

"Steve!" she screamed, trying to warn both the boy and Daken. It wasn't necessary. Daken had already seen him and checked his blow mid-swing.

"By the Father, boy! Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

Steve's eyes were huge, pale blue pools trained on Daken's sword which shook slightly as Daken sheathed the blade. The boy still hadn't moved. Jane doubted he even breathed.

"Steve. Steve!" she yelled, finally breaking through his slight trance. Then she dropped her voice to a deceptive calm. "Why don't you come up here, and we'll have a little chat." Truth of the matter was, if Daken didn't horse whip the stupid kid, she would. And with pleasure.

Little did the boy know, he was in more danger from her than he was from the very self-controlled warrior. Steve slowly stood, carefully stepping out from behind the concrete and crossed to Jane. She gave him a grim smile, seeing how he gave Daken a wide berth.

Steve stopped in front of her, his face impassive, his eyes steady. She leaned down over him and pitched her voice low and menacing. "I don't know why you're here, and I don't care. It's bad enough you followed us from Bosuny, but to come here is outside of enough, do you hear me? I don't want your protection. I don't need your protection. And mage or not, you're more of a danger to us than a help! So get your skinny little butt to the boat before I take you over my knee and spank you until my hand breaks. Have you got that?"

She pointed to the boat quietly swaying in the water like a giant rocking chair. Narrowing her eyes, she noticed what must have been Steve's horse, tethered to a tree near the edge of the water. Fine. Maybe one of the more healthy captives could ride it back to Toedo.

The rescue was her first priority, but before she focused on that, she needed to send one recalcitrant, thirteen year old boy packing. She turned back to him, expecting to see a sulking child stomp past her. To her astonishment, Steve didn't move. He continued to stare at her, his back rigid and his chin in the air.

"Steve. I'm not kidding here. I will spank you, and if you don't believe me, then believe King Daken. He's been wanting to tan your hide for weeks."

Steve didn't move.

Jane ground her teeth and raised her hand. She dreaded the thought of striking a child, but the boy had to be disciplined. He had to learn to obey for his own good.

To her astonishment, Daken stepped forward and pulled her hand down. Then he crouched low enough to look eye to eye with Steve. "Do you know where we are?"

Nod.

"Do you know what we're going to do?"

Another grave nod.

"You think you can help us, don't you?"

This time, Steve shot Jane a witheringly proud glare, then nodded once, emphatically.

"Do you understand the risks? We will probably die in there."

Jane had enough. "He's a child, Daken. Worse, he's a teenage boy. How can he know the consequences? They all think they're immortal."

Both males ignored her as Steve nodded, his small body poised, his pale blue eyes steady and clear.

Daken asked one more question, his voice gravelly with resignation. "This is your choice?"

Another nod.

"Then I accept your comradeship with gratitude."

"What?" Jane exploded behind him. She stepped forward ready to carry the kid kicking and screaming to the ship if necessary. There was no way he was coming with them, but Daken stopped her, grabbing her shoulders and pinning her against him. Then he turned her around, roughly shaking her as she fought him.

"Look at him, Jane. Really look."

Jane twisted out of Daken's hold, shoving him off of her as she stared at Steve. He looked the same as always. He wore the clothes she had bought him, now a little worn and holey, especially over the knees. The "O" of his belt buckle glinted silver in the light, and she knew what Daken said about him polishing it must be true. But what she saw most was the small body, thin frame, and childish face with grave, sad eyes.

"I'm looking," she snapped.

"Do you see him? Do you see the man?"

"I see a boy. A stubborn, willful boy who doesn't have the sense God gave a mule."

"Wrong, Jane." Daken's voice was soft beside her, but no less firm. "He knows what he's doing. He knows the risks, and he's taking responsibility for this choice."

"Bull sh—"

"Stop thinking like a mother. He's not your child. He's not a child at all."

Jane turned her back on Steve, throwing her anger at Daken while she fought tears she didn't understand. "Don't be ridiculous. He's only thirteen."

"Age doesn't matter. He's a man. He's taken responsibility for his own actions and choices. Some people never do that. I didn't until my brother die—was captured."

"That's macho nonsense."

"Don't be stupid, Jane. You've supported him up until now. Don't hurt him just because you can't part with the thought of having him stay a child."

Jane bit her lip and turned away, not wanting to hear Daken's words, but when her eyes cleared, she looked again at Steve. Not the frightened boy she'd rescued a few weeks ago, but the mage Steve. The man in a child's body.

She didn't notice it immediately. She took in the pieces, bit by bit, reluctantly allowing them to add up. She saw his steady regard, calm and reserved in the face of her hostility. She noticed his composure as he waited for her acknowledgement, but she also took in his lifted chin and the steely determination in every line of his body.

"You've decided to join us, haven't you?"

A nod.

"And unless we lock you up on the boat, you'll come whether we like it or not."

A strange light glinted in Steve's eye, and Daken stepped forward to explain it. "He's a mage. A locked door won't hold him, and he's the only one who can spell it shut."

Jane swallowed the acrid taste of fear, but it only settled into her stomach, burning there with a raw ache. "This is male foolishness. You don't take a child on a rescue mission."

"I don't take foolish women either, but I'm taking you. And Steve." Then he turned away from her, dismissing her as he would a lesser member of his staff. "Here's your task, Steve. You will follow Jane, memorizing the route along the way. When we get to the captives, you will lead them out and to the boat. I don't want you fighting except from a distance—"

"He shouldn't be fighting at all," Jane snapped.

Once again, she was ignored by both of them.

"I'm entrusting my people to you, Steve. No matter what happens to me or Jane, you must get them to the boat. Understand?"

Steve nodded, a compulsive swallow the only crack in his composure. But Jane's attention had changed. She heard something in Daken's voice, a slight catch as he said their names, and that small break chilled her blood.

"What do you mean, whatever happens to you and me? What are you planning?"

Daken stood and faced her, his expression as resolute as Steve's. "Once inside, you will show me the way to the nursery."

"No way!"

"You said it was close to where my people are kept."

"This is a rescue mission. Period. No killing unless absolutely necessary. And no baby slaughter."

"You will tell me where the Tarveen children are, or I will be forced to search the area alone. Either way, I will find it." He didn't put his hands on his hips or cross his arms over his chest. He didn't expand his chest or do any other of the typical body language of a puffed up man. He stood as he always stood. Like a warrior—composed, aware, and lethally uncompromising.

She knew she wouldn't be able to dissuade him this time. She shook her head, starting to walk away—not in any particular direction, just away from the two most frustrating people on the face of the earth. "You're crazy. You're both crazy."

Daken wouldn't let her escape. He grabbed her arm, turning her back to face him. "You will show me where the nursery is." It wasn't a question.

"What are you going to do there?"

"Ginsen made a firebomb. I will set it off, and then I will run."

Never had she been more furious than at this moment. After all they'd been through, after all their discussions and agreements, they were back to the same thing. "All you care about is killing the Tarveen. You don't care who you risk—me, Steve, yourself—you don't care. Just so long as you can slaughter the Tarveen."

"That's right, Jane," he said, his words like brutal slaps in her face. "It's all I've ever wanted."

"After all we've been to each other, after all we've shared, how can you still go and do this?" Her voice shook with her intensity.

He drew himself up, his voice dripping with scorn. "When did I ever give you the impression I was ruled by my groin? You do not dictate to me, woman."