Firehurler (Twinborn Trilogy) (57 page)

Ward works
.
Kyrus could not help a small smile at that.

“Captain wants to see you,” came the voice of Tawmund,
who seemed to be settling into a role as Captain Zayne’s bodyguard and personal
servant.

“Very well. I will be along directly,” Kyrus replied.

Kyrus began to sort himself out, taking off the sword
belt and tugging at the folds of his clothing to try to air the smell of smoke
out of them as best he could.

“Now!” came the impatient reply from outside his cabin
door.

Kyrus was sorely tempted to just let the man stew
outside while he readied himself, but thought better of it when considering
that the captain might be upset with him already if he suspected that Kyrus was
involved in the fire.

Kyrus opened the door to find Tawmund just outside. He
glared up at the huge thug without saying anything, until Tawmund backed away.
Kyrus strode past him and across the deck to the captain’s cabin. Kyrus did not
think to knock as he opened the door. He found Captain Zayne inside, along with
Stalyart. They were looking over papers at the captain’s desk. Denrik looked up
at his entrance and gazed testily at him.

“Close the door, Mr. Reggelend, and see they we are
not disturbed,” he called out to Tawmund, who had followed Kyrus to the
captain’s cabin. When the door had been closed, he turned to Kyrus. “Is this
how it is going to be? First night in port and you bring down hellfire in the
middle of the streets? If they connect this back to us, we will be lucky to
escape with our lives.”

“I was attacked in the streets. I tried to fight them
off with a saber, but … well … I am not much good with one. They disarmed me
and grabbed me—the rest was just a reflex,” Kyrus explained.

“Reaction? You cast a hellfire spell and call it a
reaction? You cannot—”

“No, I just hurled fire. I do not know any real sort
of war spells. I mean … I want to someday, mind you … but … it may not be easy
to just stumble across someone I can watch to learn them from. I tend to stay
away from battlefields,” Kyrus said.

“No. Just … no. I refuse to believe you did that just
firehurling,” Denrik protested. “Firstly, you would have charred yourself to a
husk from the inside channeling that much aether through you raw like that.
Secondly, you could not have caused that much destruction. By the waves, boy,
we felt that here by the waterfront. I was in the Man-Eating Shark buying ale
for every worthless wretch I could find, hoping to find a few pearls among the
oysters, and everyone took note of it. The building shook.”

“It was very loud, Mr. Hinterdale, and we see smoke
block out the stars in that direction,” Stalyart added.

“I was … scared,” Kyrus protested weakly.

“Well, one way or another, just think not of leaving
the ship until we shove off. Remember that ‘Kadrin behavior’ we spoke of?
Consider this sort of thing added to that list. I shall not have you burning
down half of every port city we stop at,” Denrik said.

“Well, then, teach me something easier to defend
myself with. You said you would teach me magics as I needed them. If this is
not evidence enough that I need some spells to defend myself with, I do not
know what would be,” Kyrus answered back, growing a little bolder. Something
was beginning to dawn on him. “If it was not for the ward protecting me, I
likely would have died tonight.”

“They are called shields, not wards. Wards are for
protecting objects,” Denrik corrected him.

“Are they?” Kyrus asked.

Denrik looked at him suspiciously. Kyrus watched for
the telltale sign of a sorcerer losing himself into the aether and saw it,
followed shortly by a look of surprise on Denrik’s face.

“What is it, Captain?” Stalyart asked.

“This fool had a ward tattooed into his arm,” Denrik
told him. “Mr. Hinterdale, you
do
know that thing is going to eat into
your own Source, do you not?”

“What?” Kyrus was shocked.

He had not considered that there may be side effects
to the protective ward on his arm. It was the same one he had used to protect
the door against physical damage, and the door has seemed none the worse for it

“Wards are hungry things. They weaken over time, but
rarely fail completely unless they are damaged. That is because they take
aether from nearby, bits at a time only, but enough to sustain themselves. By
the same manner, if they are too close to a Source, they will drain from that
Source to keep themselves going. That is why many sorcerers shun warded
garments, and if they do wear them, keep the wards away from their skin. You
have just attached a leech to your Source,” Denrik said, clearly exasperated
with Kyrus’s rash decision.

“I do not feel it doing anything to me,” Kyrus
protested. He had not noticed the ward doing anything to his Source, and if it
was, the effect must have been miniscule.

“I admit, your Source is strong, but be warned … that
thing will eat away at you until you rue the day you got it,” Denrik said. “I
am starting to truly question whether you are worth keeping around, if this is
the sort of decision you are making.”

“Well, then, just remember this. If Captain Zayne is
going to be the most feared pirate in the Katamic again,” Kyrus said,
remembering that on a few occasions he had noted that the captain seemed proud
of that particular ignominy, “you are going to have to overcome the fact that
the navy captured you, and everyone knows it. Stealing a navy ship might help a
little, but having a fearsome sorcerer as part of your crew will help not only
your reputation but also your capability. Do you think you would even have been
captured in the first place, had I been a part of your crew then? If you are
rid of me, I think you might not last long.”

Denrik just raised an eyebrow, not having expected
Kyrus to talk back as he had. The old pirate seemed like he knew Kyrus had a
point, though. If Denrik could keep him reined him in, Kyrus would be an
irreplaceable asset to the ship.

When neither Denrik nor Stalyart responded
immediately, Kyrus asked, “Will that be all, Captain?”

“Yes,” Denrik replied slowly. “Yes, I think that will
do, Mr. Hinterdale.”

With that, Kyrus turned and left. He passed the stoic
Tawmund on the other side of the door without saying a word. He knew without
having to ask that the giant had heard every word he had spoken to the captain.
He doubted that the brute had understood half the things they had discussed,
but there was enough that was unmistakable that it would certainly give the man
pause to consider before laying a hand on him. When Kyrus reached the solitude
of his own cabin, he renewed the ward on the door and collapsed down onto the
bed, his heart racing.

Did I just threaten the legendary Captain Zayne?
Kyrus wondered.
I think I just did. And I think it
just might have worked.

*
* * * * * * *

“What do you make of him, Stalyart?” Denrik asked his
first mate.

The clutter of papers on the desk went disregarded.
His earlier discussion of the merits of various men vying for places on the
crew—names jotted down on those same papers—was set aside.

“I like him,” Stalyart stated. “He does not know what
he is doing, but he does it anyway … boldly! He could have begged from you
forgiveness, made promises, but no. Instead he tells you that you need him and
threatens you if you toss him off the ship.”

“You heard his story about his life in Veydrus. I am
beginning to question parts of it. He seems to know more spells than he is
letting on. I still do not believe that he was just firehurling when he
obliterated that district,” Denrik said, looking to Stalyart for confirmation.

“I believe him, and I do not believe him. Think about
you. Here you are a pirate, feared and respected, but not by everyone. In Veydrus,
in Megrenn, you are the hero; you fought to free your people from Kadrin;
you’re loved and honored, and respected by all. Are you not the same man as
him? If your places were switched, would you live as a saint, using magic to
protect everyone in Harvin from harm? Would Denrik Zayne be a pirate in Megrenn
waters? I think your own people would hate pirates more than even the ones in
this world,” Stalyart said. “In the other world, Mr. Hinterdale says he is a
robber of merchants, who kills when he has to but not all the time, so he does
not attract too much attention. Well, what if this robber was not so strong,
and lived where he did not need to rob to make money—maybe he works as a
scribe. Maybe that robber takes the easy path of food on the table every day,
and no risk of being caught. Then what if that same weak man becomes strong and
learns magic. Maybe that weak man learns there is more than meals and safety to
be had. Maybe the wolf pup who was raised by sheep grew up and realized it was
a wolf all along, that its fangs were not meant for eating grass.”

“Interesting theory. You believe him, then?”

“No, Captain. That Mr. Hinterdale is a liar. He is
changing things in his story. Some of it is true. Some is not true. I think all
things you could try to catch him at, he probably tells you the truth. He is
Kadrin, because you could ask him to speak it, and he could not fake knowing it
fluently. He knows how to use a sword there—we know because you tested him—and
he obviously did not learn fencing as a scribe. Maybe some of the rest is true
too, but I suspect all of it for now.”

“What makes you so sure he is a liar?” Denrik asked.
He trusted his friend’s judgment but was curious what made the man so sure.

“He cheated us all at cards.”

Denrik’s brow drew together and cocked his head to the
side, eying Stalyart curiously.

Chapter 28 - Out in the Cold

[What news of G’thk and his troops?] the deep sonorous
voice thrummed through the forest, the harsh consonants of the goblin-speech
she used among her followers snapped and cracked like the felling of a tree.

The dragon’s footsteps did not shake the ground or
rattle the trees the way her voice did. The dragon’s gait was graceful and
balanced, despite the awesome bulk of her body. The long claws dug trenches into
the ground as she gained traction with each step, and shallow depressions
formed beneath each foot in spite of the cold hard soil of the forest floor.

[The report is that they are eager to conquer but
remain respectfully, awaiting your arrival before advancing. The human sorcerer
is becoming an annoyance, pressing the general to move sooner,] the priest
reported.

[I begin to agree with the human. Order G’thk to move
his troops. We will speed our pace and catch up to him as he reaches the
mines,] the dragon ordered testily.

Ni’Hash’Tk was miserable in the cold, though she tried
her best to hide the worst of her discomfort from the goblins outside of her
priesthood. The priests were aware and accepting of both her divinity and her
few flaws. They played up the former and helped to cover up the latter when
dealing with those outside the dragon’s most loyal minions. Ni’Hash’Tk was
covered in a blanket of sorts, made from scores of ice-bear pelts, custom
fitted to her reptilian form, complete with cutouts to allow her wings a full
range of motion; the wings had their own ice-bear furs keeping them warm. She
had not ventured out of her lair in winter—and Ni’Hash’Tk cared little that the
astronomers insisted it was still only autumn—in centuries and was constantly
reminded of why. The world was miserable and cold outside her lair, with snows
and winds and ground that might have been ice for all she cared to distinguish.

[I will send word at once, Mighty One,] the priest
replied.

[Be sure to send a skyrider. I wish them to make all
haste. Let them leave no more than a token garrison. If the humans retake their
city, so be it,] Ni’Hash’Tk added.

The human mines were in a mountain that was once a
volcano. If she was not mistaken, there should be warmth aplenty within its
depths. It would be tempting to winter there and wait until the warmer weather
before venturing back to her own lair.

[As you wish, Mighty One,] the priest acknowledged.

*
* * * * * * *

Jinzan was standing on the balcony of Lord Feldrake’s
manor, looking to the north. He could see the Cloud Wall as if they were at the
base of it. The mountains were so high that on the two-day trek to Raynesdark,
it would barely shift in their view as the army approached it. He was being
denied his prize by that arrogant lizard, and it galled him. He knew his plan
so well he could have executed it in his sleep. No amount of tinkering or
fiddling with it was likely to improve upon it; he had but to be given the
opportunity to put it into play.

With the time he had on his hands, he had taken to
trying to solve Denrik’s problems instead.
That Acardian sorcerer is such an
enigma. He had seemed such an innocent, bookish lad at first, overwhelmed by
the enormity of the world outside his master’s shop. Then he nearly single-handedly
holds off a navy crew and burns down a ship with nothing but hurled fire. After
that, two days of tutoring and he navigated us into Marker’s Point, as if he
had been years at the trade. I send him into the city with a guide as good as
any native, and he manages to not only lose his guide, but to get accosted as
well, and nearly killed. But no, he was not killed; he managed to slaughter
everyone threatening him and bring every building in the area down around his
ears as well.

Who
is
he?
Jinzan wondered.
After what Stalyart figured out, I no longer believe the
innocent façade. If he can cheat the likes of the men around that table at
Crackle, I think wordplay would be but a lark.

Stalyart—tides bless the man—had picked up on it. The
lad was lost in the game at first; he knew the rules but was no match for the
type of opponents he faced. He stared at his own cards and the common cards,
typical of a beginner. A master such as Stalyart, or even reasonably skilled
players such as Denrik, watched their opponents, since no amount of staring at
one’s own cards will tell you anything new about them. Stalyart had noticed
that Kyrus started to turn his “luck” around when he started staring at his
opponents’ cards and the ones about to be dealt. He lost some small pots but
never became entangled for much money unless he was sure to win.

Stalyart was not sure how he did it, but knew he did
it. I know how, though. That boy must have marked the cards with aether. I
would have caught him at it easily, but not Denrik. Denrik can barely see into
the aether at all, and the effort gives him headaches.

Somewhere out in this world, there is a dark mirror of
that boy running free. He is probably as much like Kyrus as Denrik is like me:
a magic-less outcast who has had to make do with his wits and daring. What sort
of man would that make him, if he truly is Kadrin?
Jinzan mused.

There were certain facts of Kyrus’s story that were
too easily checked for him to have lied about them. Faking a Kadrin accent
might be difficult, and faking speaking it entirely would not fool Jinzan in
the least. It was galling to think that some little nobody from Acardia had
pulled such a ruse on him, but the rest of Kyrus’s story was entirely called
into question. Was he a highwayman? Was he truly now north of Pevett? Did he
truly come by his magic from imitating some itinerant sorcerer who took up with
brigands? The last was the most obvious lie in the bunch. If he was to begin
questioning Kyrus’s story, that was the place to start.

Kadrin was run by sorcerers. The army knew it. The
nobles knew it. Even the emperor likely knew it. The Inner Circle wielded more
power than the Megrenn High Councilors did, and they were the official seat of
power in the kingdom, for Megrenn was a kingdom in name only. The Circle doled
out that power generously to the sorcerers of the Empire, giving them free rein
and freedom from all but themselves and a scant few others. Those sorcerers
that served the noble houses were only slightly less well off, given that the
populace was conditioned to treat all sorcerers as a higher class of citizen.
The thought of rogue sorcerers making their way by brigandry was … unlikely, at
the least. Nearly any crime could be forgiven, and if the Circle would not have
him, a sorcerer could find a patron with ease, if not among the nobles then
among the wealthiest of the merchant elite.

So … what then?

Where would he have learned magic that he would want
to keep it secret? Jinzan regretted that Denrik may have shown his hand too
soon. Kyrus had not known that he was a Megrenn sorcerer before giving his own
story, but that did not excuse the lapse in being so frank with the lad. Kyrus
had claimed to harass the Kadrins along the trade-ways, and he had wanted to do
him one better. Kyrus had led with a feint, and Denrik had fallen for it.

So the lad was smart. He could accept that and brush
aside the sting of being fooled so that he might puzzle through who Kyrus might
be in Veydrus. He could not trust him in Tellurak until he knew who he was
dealing with. It was about time to start piecing together what he knew and
trying to fill in the missing pieces with the best guesses he could make.

Kyrus’s counterpart was very likely Kadrin and knew
how to use a sword with some skill—that much Kyrus was able to demonstrate,
though his counterpart was clearly more fit for such swordplay. He was most
likely
not
a robber and had almost certainly not learned magic from some
rogue sorcerer. Unless the Empire had changed much since the rebellion, Kadrin
had no rogue sorcerers.

Let us begin with where he learned the rudiments of
magic. If he had proper training in magic, he would never have been so
generally ignorant of spells and the way aether and Sources work. If he was
faking being such an ignoramus, he is far, far ahead in this test of wits. I
shall consider that eventuality later, perhaps. For now, who would have access
to shoddy teaching in spells? A nobleman with a sorcerer in his family’s
employ, perhaps. A guardsman in the Tower of Contemplation? A possibility. He
could be a sibling to a sorcerer, but that would not fit as well as the first
two in explaining why he might also be skilled with a blade.

Jinzan blew out a frustrated sigh and ran his fingers
through his hair. He needed more information to go on. There were too many
unknowns, and he risked deluding himself should he commit too far down an
incorrect path. Perhaps Kyrus’s twin was nothing worth troubling about. It was
possible that he was merely being prudent, especially now that he knew that
Denrik’s counterpart was Megrenn.

Blast it, if only I had not been so eager to make his
alliance and given him a clear answer.

Jinzan was rescued from his self-torment by a Source
approaching from behind. Aside from the sorcerers and the assassin, Gkt’Lr, all
the goblins Sources looked alike to him. He turned to see who was intruding
upon his solitude.

[Cheer up, sorcerer, you are getting your wish,] G’thk
greeted him.

The goblin general was in his travel gear, layer upon
layer of wolf furs over his uniform. The general clearly intended to ride, as
his gait was hindered by the overabundance of warm clothing weighing him down.
Jinzan smiled wryly; Megrenn may have been far warmer—lying north of the Kadrin
Empire, with the ocean-borne currents bringing warm weather down from tropical
regions—but he could brave cold weather that would turn the goblins to
worthless, shivering wretches. He could only hope that their skittishness about
the cold could be suppressed long enough to conduct a battle in late-autumn
weather in the Cloud Wall.

“We are leaving? How soon?” Jinzan got right to the
point. He was weary, though truly only mentally, of all the waiting. The sooner
they left, the better.

[Mighty Ni’Hash’Tk is planning to catch up with us at
the mines. Gather what you need, as we leave immediately,] G’thk said. The
general now seemed as eager to go as Jinzan.

“So you deliver messages personally now?” Jinzan
joked. G’thk had rarely come to him directly, preferring to send an underling
to summon him, or even deliver a message directly.

The general chuckled. [Yes, it seems. The messengers
are all afraid of you, sorcerer. They think you are angry and will kill one
soon. None wants to be the one to anger you enough that you finally do it.]

“So does this mean we are attacking in two days?”
Jinzan asked. He wanted to be sure that there would be no further delays.

[Do not worry, sorcerer. When Ni’Hash’Tk arrives,
there will be no question of delaying the attack. This will be glorious. Not
only will we win a new lair for Ni’Hash’Tk’s whelp, but we will have a great
deal of plunder for us as well. We also have word that there are many more of
your toys being brought along. The tinkers like them, and the other generals
are beginning to request them as well. They have been making them without stop
since the first were finished. The ones they bring with them will make our
triumph simple.]

“That is … excellent news,” Jinzan said.

Well, if by “excellent,” you mean “disastrous.” I had
not anticipated the goblins’ zeal for the things. Megrenn had best stay on
their good side through this war, else we may find a formidable enemy on our
western border.

The general left him to see to his preparations.
Jinzan lingered for a moment on the balcony. He looked again to the north and
imagined that he could see Raynesdark against the mountain backdrop.

And what might I find when I get there? Will Kyrus
turn out to be the son of the lord of the mines? Have I perhaps alerted an
Inner Circle guardsman who spies between worlds? Will there be a dozen sorcerers
manning the walls when we arrive?

Jinzan left his vantage point and found his way back
to the room he had commandeered. Not far from the lord’s balcony, the hallways
teemed with goblin soldiers. Preparations were already well under way, with
much of the equipment the goblins had been storing in the manor house having
already been removed. The goblins took their deity’s orders to heart and were
ill-inclined to displease her.

Fortunately the goblins feared Jinzan enough that none
impeded him as he stalked along the stone-walled corridors. The day they had
arrived, those same corridors had been adorned with tapestries and paintings
but now were bare. The tapestries had been claimed as spoils of war, and the
paintings—showing visages of Kadrin noblemen to have inhabited the place—had
been relegated to the fireplaces to keep them warm. It felt to Jinzan as if
they were beginning the task of rewriting Kadrin history … and writing the
Kadrins right out of it. Illard’s Glen may have been a small step along the path
Jinzan had chosen to blaze, but Raynesdark would be a much greater achievement.
In just a few days’ time, he would be walking through the halls of Duke
Pellaton’s castle in the same manner.

He arrived at his temporary quarters to find them
occupied. One of the chambermaids was busily packing his belongings, neatly
folding his spare clothes—freshly laundered—and bundling them into his
traveling pack. Jinzan glanced around the room, ignoring both her curtsy and
greeting of “Milord” as he brushed past her and began to search the room. He
scanned though the chest of drawers hastily, finding nothing.