A Touch of Magic (25 page)
“What would you have us do?” Shawncy asked. “We are already exposed as much as we dare be. If one of us is caught and killed, who would be there to save the next child that comes along, huh? Answer me that.”
Randall didn’t have an answer. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that the underground Mages on Tallia should do more than hide and try to smuggle children. Anyone could do that. These were Mages! They should be able to do so much more. He didn’t know what, though, so he continued to say nothing.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Shawncy said, assuming he had won the argument. “You, on the other hand, already have a good cover story. And it will last you all the way to the coast, if you’re lucky. You’ve already done better for yourself than we could ever do for you. You don’t need our help. But we’ll give you what help we can anyway. If your cover’s blown before you reach Ninove, Edwin will know. He’ll know who is on the roads looking for you, and if Erliand is still alive. He’s far better connected to the happenings of the court than I will ever be out here in the country.”
Randall had an idea. “You could come with us!” he said, excitedly. “Surely, between the two of us, we could handle any danger along the way! And you could teach me a bit more about magic!”
“Oh no, I don’t think so,” Shawncy said with finality. “You think your friends will welcome me with open arms when you suddenly show back up with a stranger in tow? You’re young and personable, and your caravan friends know ‘Old Earl’. They have a reason to like you. Plus, you have a good reason to be traveling with them. I have none of those things going for me. There’s no way it could work, kid.”
Randall pleaded and wheedled a bit longer but there was no convincing Shawncy to accompany the group on his journey. Shawncy didn’t seem to want to be in his company any more than he had to, in fact. He couldn’t really blame the old Mage for that, though. After all, it was his fault that Shawncy had to go on the run now. And Randall knew what
that
felt like.
Before leaving the house, Shawncy spent several long moments in meditation, as if listening. He encouraged Randall do to do the same, explaining that if there were any Mage hunters nearby, they would likely have drawn at least some power from Llandra in preparation, giving the fugitives a chance to spot them. Randall did his best to focus and spread his consciousness out, like he did when he was tracking Shawncy down, but he didn’t feel a thing.
“Me either,” Shawncy said. “Sensitive as you claim to be, if there was anyone out there, you’d have felt them. We’re probably safe for now. But we’ll be careful just the same.”
Randall had his doubts. He knew his ability to control Llandra was still very unreliable. He wasn’t certain he would have felt a Mage even if there was one standing just outside the front door! So, they left the house cautiously, standing on the porch and looking up and down the street for signs of trouble. The avenue was deserted. Even the men Randall had seen drinking earlier were gone, leaving their discarded bottle behind.
“Nobody’s on the street.” Randall said, stating the obvious. “Is that bad?”
“Nah,” Shawncy said, sounding satisfied. “It’s usually like this. I’d have been more worried if we saw someone I didn’t recognize.”
With a nod, the two left the porch and began walking down the road. Shawncy was quiet and intent, his demeanor sparking feelings of paranoia within Randall. They had only gone a few feet when Randall felt a hand land on his shoulder, making him jump, yelping. He spun around quickly to see who had grabbed him from behind, but no one was there. Shawncy had spun too, a wicked dagger suddenly filling his fist.
“You need to quit jumpin’ around like a frightened tabby,” Shawncy said, exasperated. “My nerves are already bad enough as it is.”
“But I felt someone grab me,” Randall started to say before seeing movement out of the corner of his eye on his shoulder.
Berry! Randall stiffened as he realized he had nearly given his friend away. “I guess it was nothing.”
“Hold on, boy, something’s not quite right,” Shawncy said slowly as he peered closely at Randall.
Suddenly, Randall felt a pulse of power as Shawncy barked a short Word. Randall felt a small explosive crack as Berry’s transparency fled, leaving the little man completely visible on his shoulder. Shawncy’s eyes grew wide with horror, and his mouth formed a nearly perfect ‘O’ shape as he stumbled backward away from Randall, pointing at the little imp.
“A donnan!” Shawncy managed to squeak, though he was stuttering so thoroughly that Randall wasn’t sure that he heard the man correctly.
Randall stood dumbfounded and embarrassed as Shawncy stumbled and fell on his backside. He continued to crabwalk backward as he tried to stutter out some kind of warning. Randall couldn’t figure out why Shawncy would be so frightened of Berry. He was just a little sprite! There wasn’t anything to be frightened of! Shawncy’s antics were agitating Berry, and the little imp was chittering angrily from his shoulder.
“Shawncy, stop it!” Randall yelled as Shawncy continued to retreat. “You’re frightening him!”
Finally, Shawncy managed to crawl back onto his feet. His face was ashen and his eyes had the wide-eyed stare of a cornered animal. He quickly raised his hand and pointed toward Randall and Berry, and Randall felt a huge pulse of magic as Shawncy opened himself to Llandra. It wasn’t as much power as Randall had felt Erliand draw before, and it wasn’t even as much power as he himself had wielded in the past to call down the lightning. But even so, it was a respectable amount of magic, and Randall found himself cringing backward at the expected attack.
“Tsan’laran,” came a tiny voice from Randall’s shoulder, along with a miniscule, nearly undetectable pulse of power. The elven Word was followed by a half-dozen others, flowing together so smoothly that Randall found it impossible to follow them.
Shawncy’s face grew slack, and the power he had gathered drained away. Berry once again grew transparent and snuggled up against Randall’s shoulder, purring softly. Randall stood slack-jawed, too, but not from the effects of Berry’s spell. He stood rooted in place, trying to take in the events that had just transpired. He stood dumbfounded for only a moment, until he remembered that they had to keep moving. If there were indeed Mage hunters in the city, Shawncy had just revealed their location to anyone sensitive enough to feel it!
He rushed past Shawncy, who still stood insensible, grabbing the man by the shirt sleeve and dragging him along as he made his way up the street. Shawncy followed woodenly, completely unaware of his surroundings.
As they reached the end of the street, Shawncy blinked and shook his head, as if waking from a dream. He looked up and down the intersection for a couple of seconds.
“Turn right here,” he said. “The streets look safe enough.”
Randall stopped and looked at Shawncy carefully. When Erliand had cast that elven charm on Randall, it had left him senseless for a quarter of an hour. Shawncy had been rendered insensible for only a minute or two, at best. Shawncy stopped, noticing Randall’s scrutiny.
“What is it?” Shawncy asked.
“Are you okay?” Randall asked in return, unsure of what else to say.
Shawncy raised his eyebrows and snorted. “Why wouldn’t I be? Now come on. You’re wasting time!”
Randall shrugged and followed Shawncy up the street. The older man gave no indication that he remembered his brief encounter with Berry, or that the spell Berry had cast had done him any harm. Randall tried to catch a glance at Berry out of the corner of his eye, but he didn’t want to look at his friend too closely, for fear of giving him away again.
Randall couldn’t make sense of what had spooked Shawncy so. Sure, Berry might be a little sprite. A ‘donnan’, Shawncy had said. Randall assumed Berry’s kind had originated in Llandra, but so had the elves, and elves weren’t spoken of with such frightened tones. Berry’s nearly-inaudible purring soothed Randall, and soon he quit trying to figure out why Shawncy had reacted so negatively to Berry’s presence.
Eventually, Shawncy led Randall to the street that housed the Monkey’s Tail Inn. It was late afternoon, and most of the vendors that choked the streets during the day were packing up their wares, leaving the streets quiet except for the occasional peddler calling out in hopes of making a sale late in the day. It was late enough that Randall was worried that his friends might have left without him. Shawncy snorted derisively when Randall voiced his fear, however.
“They’re caravaners,” Shawncy said. “They’ll stick around getting drunk and chasing whores until their money runs out. You could’ve been gone half a week, and they’d still probably be here.”
Randall began to defend his friends against Shawncy’s low opinion, until he thought of Brody. He had to admit that he could easily see the man drinking and chasing women for as long as he had coin in his pocket. Randall thanked Shawncy for helping him, and tried once more to get the older man to join them on their journey.
“Wish I could,” Shawncy said. “But you don’t need me complicating your cover story, and you don’t want to have to try to explain me to your caravaner friends. I’ve been hiding from the Rooks for a long time. I’ll be fine.”
Randall shook Shawncy’s hand and bid him farewell. Randall watched him walk away until Shawncy turned down a side street and was lost from view. As he turned up the street, Randall’s stomach growled, reminding him that he had missed both breakfast and lunch today, and was close to missing supper as well. He hurried up the street toward the inn, hoping that Brody wouldn’t mind covering the cost of a meal. At the last minute, he remembered that Berry was still on his shoulder, and slipped behind the inn to drop the donnan off at the caravaners wagon, promising to bring him a scrap of dinner if he could.
“Well, look who’s here,” came a voice from the bar as Randall rushed through the doors of the inn. It was Brody, sitting next to Tobsen with a flagon of ale between them. He didn’t sound happy.
“And where the devil have you been?” Tobsen asked. “Did you know that Brody had had us out looking for you all day? Declan is still out looking for you, in fact!” Tobsen was clearly annoyed.
“I got up early, and thought I’d take a look at that market I saw up the street,” Randall said, sticking to as much truth as he dared share.
“Yeah?” Brody asked suspiciously. “That was the first place we looked, and I know you don’t have any money on you, boy. So where have you been?”
“Uh..I..uh, got lost.” Randall said. That was practically the truth, too. Randall couldn’t have found his way back to the inn from Shawncy’s house if he tried.
That seemed to be the right answer, because Brody let out a huge barking laugh and slapped Tobsen on the back. “I told you the boy was wandering the streets just trying to figure out how to get back here,” he said. Tobsen just harrumphed, sticking his nose in the air.
“I don’t know how you can manage to get lost in a little country town like this,” Tobsen condescended. “How many streets did your town have, anyway? One? Two?”
Randall looked down at the floor, blushing angrily but didn’t say anything. What could he say? Geldorn really only had one big road running through it, after all.
“That’s all right, boy,” Brody said. “You come on over and have yourself a drink. Have you had anything to eat? No? Fine. You can have the rest of mine.” Brody patted the chair next to him and pushed a half-eaten plate of food toward Randall when he sat down.
Randall dug in hungrily as Brody poured a glass of ale for him from the full flagon. He didn’t think the meal would be enough to fill him up, but he wasn’t about to press his luck just yet. After a few minutes of stuffing his gullet, he began feeling a little queasy, and his stomach flip-flopped in his belly.
“I think I’m going to be sick,” Randall burped as he tried to stand up from his plate, stumbling sideways into the bar.
“Oh my!” Brody said loudly. “Looks like someone’s had too much to drink!”
Randall’s head spun as he tried to figure out what Brody was saying. He’d only had a couple of drinks from the mug. He certainly wasn’t drunk. There must be something wrong with the food. It was making his head spin and his stomach ache terribly.
“I’m not drunk!” Randall protested, his words slurring heavily.
“Of course not,” Brody winked, taking Randall by the arm. “Come on, Tobsen. Let’s get our friend up to the room and let him sleep it off. I think he’s had enough.”
“Quite,” Tobsen said, taking Randall’s other arm. “Pleasant dreams, lad.”
Randall tried to protest again as unconsciousness overtook him.
Randall was dreaming about his fight on the practice mound with Bobby, well over a year ago. In the dream, Randall was just as helpless as he had been in reality, only more so. This time, he was completely unable to move, and Bobby walked around him, taunting him, poking and hitting him with a wooden sword. And every time Bobby hit his magic-hardened tunic, it made a resounding
thunk
. And with each strike, Randall’s heart leapt into his throat in fear of giving away the fact that he was cheating. Every so often, Bobby would thump Randall in the head with the sword, adding to his massive throbbing headache.
Groggily, Randall regained consciousness. The pounding headache, unfortunately, was real. Randall hazily took stock of his situation. The rhythmic sound of sword strikes that Randall had heard in his dream turned out to be the sound of horse hooves on hard earth. Randall tried to roll over, only to discover that he was painfully tied up in the back of the caravan wagon. A wad of cloth was tied around his head, gagging him and making his parched and raw throat feel even worse.
Randall was outraged. Brody and Tobsen must have drugged me! And now they have me all trussed up like a Sunday roast. What gives?
From his vantage point, Randall couldn’t see much. The flap at the back of the wagon was closed, and it was nearly pitch black, which meant that it was still night time. What little light Randall had came from some light source behind him bleeding through the wagon’s canvas covering. He had no good way of judging how long he had been out, but it couldn’t have been long.
As the moments passed, Randall’s head cleared quickly. He tried wiggling around as much as the bonds would let him, which turned out to be not much at all. His arms were pinned painfully behind his back, and his legs were tied together as well. The caravaners had done a thorough job of ensuring that he could not easily escape. His boots found purchase on a small lip of wood formed by the uneven construction of the wagon, and he wedged one heel in, trying to turn himself around. As he exerted greater pressure, however, his heel slipped, and his feet smashed into a box of curios with a loud crash.
Immediately, he heard Brody cry “Hold!” and he felt the wagon slowing to a stop. He heard Brody turn in the wagon seat, and rough hands flipped him over to face the caravan driver.
“Awake already, huh? Faster than I expected.” Brody’s face was hard as he spoke. “It’d be best for you if you just went back to sleep, and quit messing around back here. You make me stop again, and it won’t go well for you. Got it?”
Randall nodded and stopped struggling. Something in Brody’s face told him that he would make good on his promise. Any light of friendship that Randall might have expected to see in the man’s eyes was completely gone. In its place, was an expression of dispassionate cruelty. Randall could easily believe that this man had killed before, and would have no problem with killing again.
Nodding to himself in satisfaction, Brody turned back to the act of driving the cart, and twitched the reigns impatiently. The cart started again, slowly bumping along the hard ground. Now that Randall was facing the front of the cart, he could see that it was indeed some time in the middle of the night, and that Brody was navigating by the light of a pair of bright lanterns hitched up to the front of the wagon.
They traveled slowly, obviously necessitated by the difficulty in seeing the path even with the lanterns, and it appeared to take Brody considerable concentration to drive the wagon in the dark. Every now and then, Randall would hear one of the other men call out that there was a rut or stump ahead to watch out for.
Well, we’re not on the road then, Randall thought. I wonder where they’re taking me.
Randall stared at the back of Brody’s head for a long time until he felt a soft thump as something landed on his chest, followed almost immediately thereafter by a familiar rumbling sensation. Berry must have jumped up onto his prone form, and was there now purring gently. Randall wished he could call out to his little friend to untie him, but he dared not make a sound, lest he provoke Brody into murderous action. The donnan’s droning vibrations soothed Randall’s jangled nerves and he found himself dozing off. Soon, he was fast asleep.
When Randall woke in the morning, his shoulders were stiff and sore, but they didn’t ache as badly as he thought they might. In fact, Randall actually felt fairly refreshed, physically. The cotton-headed feeling of the night before had cleared, and even the parched feeling in his mouth was gone. Randall was amazed at how well he felt, considering the circumstances. After being drugged and tied up all night, it just seemed so wrong for him to feel so good.
There was only one logical explanation.
They must not have found the talisman,
Randall thought to himself, slim hope growing in his chest.
I bet they didn’t find out about my enchanted dagger, either!
A plan began forming in Randall’s mind. It would require getting his hands on the dagger, but he had hope that he could manage it. If Brody was going to kill him, he would’ve done it while Randall was still unconscious and easy pickings. Every moment that he was still alive gave him a chance to try to win his freedom.
Randall could hear the three men talking and laughing outside of the wagon. He imagined the men bantering and joking, much as they had done on the journey to Paranol. It stuck in his craw that they could behave so casually after kidnapping him, as if the act didn’t weigh on their consciences at all. Randall’s initial suspicions about the men’s shady natures appeared to be right on the mark. If
he
had taken someone hostage, he’d be wracked with guilt for sure.
Now that it was daylight, Randall turned his head around, and saw that the caravaners must have left in a rush. Much of their gear was haphazardly tossed into the back of the wagon rather than being carefully stowed. He didn’t know where Berry had gotten himself off to, but he was growing used to the little sprite’s ability to keep out of sight and out of trouble when the two of them weren’t alone.
After a few minutes, the sounds of dishes being scraped into the fire let Randall know that breakfast was over. Then he heard one of the men walking toward the wagon. The rear opening of the wagon flipped open to reveal Brody’s face looking in on him.
“I figured you’d be awake,” he said. “I imagine you’re rather stiff right about now. We’re taking a bit of a break, so I’m going to let you out for a stretch. Can’t have you going completely lame on me. But if you do anything stupid or try to run, I’ll gut you like a fish. Understand?” He emphasized the warning with the tip of his knife, which he held menacingly in his right hand.
At Randall’s nod, Brody untied his legs and helped him down out of the wagon. The campfire was nearby, and Declan and Tobsen sat at it, keeping the morning chill at bay. He left Randall’s arms tied behind his back, and left the gag in place as well. Still, it was good to get out and stretch. Even with the healing talisman under his shirt, Randall felt a little stiff from the confined position. After he worked most of the kinks out, Brody pulled him back to the campfire. He gestured at the ground nearby with his knife.
“Have a seat by the fire there,” Brody said. Randall noticed that the knife hadn’t left Brody’s hand the entire time.
After a second, Randall realized that Brody had two scabbards on his belt, one on the left and one on the right. Brody had Randall’s dagger! Knowing where the dagger was gave him fresh hope for his chances for escape. But getting his hands on it had just become significantly more complicated.
“I imagine you’ve got a powerful thirst,” Brody said. “Side effect of the drink we gave you. I’ll let you have some water, but I have to take that gag out of your mouth to do it. And right now, that little gag is the only thing keeping you from working your devil touched charms on us—which means that you get to drink with my dagger under your chin. If I even think you’re about to make a sound, I’ll slit your throat.”
“Better to slit his throat now and be done with it,” Declan said while idly tossing twigs into the campfire.
“Worth more alive, now isn’t he?” Brody shot back. “The boy’s not dumb. He’ll keep his mouth shut.”
Brody grabbed Randall by the top of the head and jammed the point of his knife into the side of his throat, drawing a small trickle of blood. “Won’t you boy?”
Randall nodded carefully, his eyes wide. These men had been his friends just yesterday. Today, they were discussing slitting his throat as casually as if they were discussing the weather!
“Good,” Brody said, satisfied. “See, I asked around town yesterday, looking for Old Earl. I have a lot of contacts, people who know things and keep their ear to the ground. You’ll never guess the crazy story I heard. But I imagine you already know it, don’t you?”
Randall’s heart sank. He knew his secret was out. His eyes dropped down to the ground, and he found he could not raise them to meet Brody’s gaze.
“Figured as much.” Brody said, letting Randall’s body language confirm what he already knew. “But let me tell it to you anyway, so we don’t have any misunderstandings between us. Old Earl wasn’t a caravaner at all. He had us all fooled. He was a devil touched Mage.” Brody spat into the fire, as if merely saying the words left a bad taste in his mouth.
“Good riddance,” he said, wiping the spittle from his lips with the back of his hand.
“I still say we should kill him,” Declan said, nodding in Randall’s direction. “Too much risk keeping him alive.”
“How many men is he supposed to have killed?” Tobsen asked, interjecting into the conversation, sounding a little nervous.
“Five,” Declan said flatly. “Plus his whole family.”
“Shut up!” Brody interrupted loudly. “We’re not hick yokels playing soldier! We know how to handle his type. It’s not like this is our first time, now is it? And this one’s worth ten times more alive!”
Declan just shrugged and continued playing with the campfire, while Tobsen rubbed his forehead and looked worried.
I didn’t kill five men!
Randall thought to himself in protest.
I didn’t kill my family, either!
But someone must have killed them. It had to have been Aiden, and he was getting the blame! The memory of the Mage raising his wand and invoking fire flashed through his mind. Tears welled up in his eyes as he imagined Aiden calling fire to rain on his helpless family. Tears turned into great wracking sobs.
“Yeah, this one won’t be giving us any trouble at all, I don’t think,” Brody said with a smirk, mistaking the cause of Randall’s tears. “He knows he’s caught good and tight.”
After Randall cried himself out, Brody loosened his gag and let him drink several long drinks from a wineskin. And, as promised, Brody’s knifepoint stayed under Randall’s chin the entire time. Every time he swallowed, he could feel his larynx push painfully against the point of the dagger. He didn’t utter a sound.
The drink in the wineskin tasted like a bitter herbal tea. He recognized the flavor from the nasty coating his tongue had on it the previous night. They were drugging him again. That suited Randall just fine. His nerves were raw, and he didn’t want to think about his family just yet. He looked forward to the bliss a drugged sleep would give him.
“No food for you today.” Declan said after Brody replaced Randall’s gag. “You’d probably just throw it up anyway.”
By the time Declan and Brody manhandled Randall back into the cart, his vision had started to swim and his stomach began the same nauseating flip-flopping that it had done the night before. He only had to wait a few moments before the sedative drove consciousness from him.
Randall awoke some time later. The sun burning through the thin cloth of the wagon top told him that it was probably just after lunchtime. He wasn’t sure how long the tea was supposed to keep him unconscious, but it only seemed to knock him out for three or four hours. He imagined that if it weren’t for the healing talisman, he would have been out for much longer.
Nobody came in to check on him as the cart bumped along the ground. In the brief time that he was let out in the morning, he didn’t notice a discernible trail or road, leaving him with no indication of where the men might be taking him. Lying in the wagon with nothing else to do, Randall couldn’t help but think about how Aiden must have killed his family.
The tears came freely, but he tried to stifle his sobs. He didn’t want any extra attention from the caravaners. Plus, it wouldn’t be good to have them wondering why he wasn’t staying drugged for as long as he should. He swore to himself that if he could find his way out of his predicament, he would find a way to make Aiden pay for his crimes.
Randall couldn’t help being born with his power. There was no reason to kill anyone over it! Especially not his family! Joshua was just a little kid! At the thought of Joshua being slaughtered, a fresh wave of grief washed over Randall, and he silently sobbed in the back of the wagon. Underneath the grief, where he could barely feel it, was a slow-building anger. He would make them pay!
Eventually, Randall’s grief and anger both ran their course, and he fell back asleep. He woke up several more times that day, but the boredom was overwhelming. He tried to keep his mind occupied by thinking of his plan for escape, or by recalling his lessons. When he grew bored, he tried to take an interest in what Berry was doing inside the wagon, but the donnan showed no interest in Randall’s predicament whatsoever, coming and going as he pleased. Ultimately, he spent most of his time sleeping to idle the time away.
