Mind of the Magic (Arhel Book 3) (31 page)

He wrote again. “I asked him what he meant.”

Edrouss watched the reply, then hissed. “They landed in the center of Bonton, wanting to get directions and perhaps buy drinks—and the people there killed his sister and some of his friends. These nine flew off, but when they went back to get the bodies…” He paused while the Klaue erased the first part of his message and continued writing. “Oh, no! He says they skinned and stuffed his sister, as if she were a trophy bletch!” Edrouss looked at Faia, his eyes wide. “No wonder these youngsters keep attacking. That isn’t just a terrible thing to do—that’s sacrilege of the very worst kind. They never leave their bodies to the open air—never. They burn them or bury them in catacombs.”

“I saw a stuffed Klaue,” Faia said “The fighting men dragged it out on a wheeled cart and taunted the rest of the Klaue with it—just seeing it seemed to drive them into a rage.”

“Why would they do such a thing?”

Bytoris said softly, “It is a custom among the Bontonards that a hunter, having killed a dangerous beast, and one that could as easily have killed him, will stuff the beast’s skin and keep it in his home as proof of his feat.”

Edrouss turned on him and shouted, “But these are not beasts!”

“But how were the common Bontonards to know that?” Bytoris held his hands wide. “Klogs do not look like people, and they do not speak like people, and only within the last year have even the
scholars
come to accept that those who built the ancient cities were not humans…”

Edrouss nodded. “True.” He turned and wrote in the dirt again, and at the same time said, “I’m telling them how this mistake happened I’ll see if they’ll agree to a truce, to allow us to barter for the release of this one’s sister’s body.”

When the Klaue replied, he said, “He agrees. He says they will not attack the city again if we can do that, and they will leave this place and never return.”

The Klaue flicked his tail over the words, then began writing again in the dirt. “He says this place shouldn’t even be here, that it is, he thinks, the… this doesn’t translate well… ghostland would be the best I can manage. The word has a second meaning, of something that has been cursed.”

“I can imagine how he would feel that way.”

Suddenly Faia smelled smoke. She looked up from the dirt, and saw that Thirk had appeared and was watching her from just beneath the canopy of trees—and with him were perhaps fifteen Servants, and half a hundred townspeople. The people pointed at the Klaue and whispered.

Thirk stepped into the circle and raised his arms above him and waved his fingers at the Klaue. Fire appeared in the air, racing around the First Folk without touching them.

They bellowed then leapt into the sky, their wings thundering in the air—and within an instant they were high above, and sailing away from Bonton.

Thirk’s Servants and the townsfolk stepped into the clearing behind him, surrounding Faia and Bytoris and Edrouss.

Faia felt her heart sink. This was the confrontation she had not wanted.

Edrouss stood, and faced Thirk and the majority of the Servants. “The Klaue agreed to a truce,” he said. “They agreed to peace! Why did you chase them away? If you release the body of their sister to be burned, they will not attack Bonton anymore, and they will leave Arhel.”

“Will they?” Thirk asked softly. “They’ll leave?”

“Yes,” Edrouss said. “At least, they said they would before you… before you shot fire at them. I explained how the people of Bonton misunderstood who they were, and I negotiated a truce with them. They intend you no harm anymore. If you just give them their sister back, they will leave you alone.”

Thirk turned to his followers, and in that same flat, quiet voice, he said, “With your own eyes, you see this. These are the people who have spoken to those monsters. They say now that the monsters will not attack you…
anymore
; will not kill your husbands and wives and children…
anymore
; will not destroy your homes and businesses…
anymore
. That should be a good thing, shouldn’t it?”

His people watched him silently, waiting for a cue.

“I say,
no!
Anymore
… that is nothing. The monsters have already attacked, have already maimed and killed and destroyed. These three have done you no kindness today! Where were they when the monsters attacked the first time?” Thirk smiled and looked at his followers one at a time. “How did they learn to speak with the beasts? Think of that. How did they learn this cursed beast tongue? I’ll tell you—they are in league with the monsters. When they flew against you and your loved ones, these are the people who commanded them. They brought the monsters to Bonton, and set them against us. Now you understand the depths of evil that I have been protecting you from.”

“That’s a lie, Thirk, and by the Lady, you know it!” Faia shouted. “You know who Edrouss Delmuirie is, and how he knows First Folk speech! You know perfectly well that we had nothing to do with the attacks! It was their own stupid fault!” She pointed at the townsfolk. “If they hadn’t skinned one of the First Folk and stuffed her, you wouldn’t have the problems you have.”

“By the
Lady
, indeed. The heretic speaks,” Thirk said. “This same heretic brought down the Delmuirie Barrier. She killed Edrouss Delmuirie, and destroyed Arhel’s magic. It is only by the grace of the One True God that we are not bereft of all magic.”

The murmurs in the crowd grew louder, and the men and women moved closer. Faia felt doom closing in on her.

“I didn’t kill Edrouss Delmuirie!” she shouted. “He’s Edrouss Delmuirie.”

“The records at the gate say he’s Geos Rull,” Thirk said.

“I’m Edrouss Delmuirie.”

Thirk smiled. “So you came into the city under false identity? Tsk, tsk. Normally, that would be a stoning offense—but the world needs Edrouss Delmuirie. If you
are
Edrouss Delmuirie, I’m sure you can prove it.”

“Of course I can prove it,” Edrouss shouted. “Ask me anything.”

“Fine. Edrouss, if you are Edrouss—put the Delmuirie Barrier back up. Give Arhel back its magic.”

“Let’s see some magic!” a man shouted.

“He can’t do magic! He’s a liar!”

“Stone him!”

“Stone
her!”

And someone else yelled, “Stone them all.”

Thirk crossed his arms over his chest. “What, Edrouss, Faia—no magic? Can it be that you lied to all of us?” He waited.

Faia took Edrouss’s hand in her own. She could think of nothing that might save them. She looked into Thirk’s eyes, and saw her own fear reflected. In her brother’s face, she saw more of the same fear. She had no magic, no power—and no hope.

All around them, the people still called for their deaths.

“No magic for us—it must mean you lied to us after all. What a pity.” Thirk shook his head slowly, then turned mournful eyes on his followers, who cried out for stoning. As if saddened by the reactions of his followers, he said, “Children, children, I have taught you time and again that punishment must always fit the crime. Common heretics are stoned—but these are no common heretics. These people are a veritable wellspring of evil.” He smiled slowly. “They wanted you to burn the body of the monster you killed. I say we burn these three instead.”

“Burn them,” the mob replied.

“Yes,
burn
them!”

And the crowd moved in around Faia and her lover and her brother.

THIRK transported everyone back to town—his three captives, the Servants, the townsfolk. They arrived in a billow of smoke, in the town square.

“Ring the bells,” Thirk shouted.

Men ran to do as he commanded, and within an instant, the town bells rang through the gathering night.

“Tie them to the pillars!”

In the center of the square, long ago, the Bontonards had erected a stone pavilion with graceful stone pillars that supported a delicately carved stone roof. The structure still stood, moss-etched and worn, testament to a better age.

Faia fought against the two men who held her—both brawny Servants—but she was no match for their strength or determination. They dragged her to one of the pillars, and within an instant, townsfolk ran up, offering rope to bind her. The Servants tied her tightly, with Edrouss on the pillar next to hers and Bytoris on the other side of him.

The bells rang on, and the square filled with more people; people who ran back home to bring bits of wood, who threw pieces of their furniture, bits of carts, and even the doors of their homes, smashed and reduced to kindling, at the feet of their victims.

The piles of wood grew until they reached waist-high around Bytoris, Faia, and Edrouss.

Then men lit torches, and brought them to the pyres.

“I love you,” Edrouss called to Faia.

“I love you, too.” Faia felt tears running down her cheeks. “And you, too, Bytoris. I’m glad I had a brother again, even just for a little while.”

Thirk floated into the air, and illuminated himself with magic. He magically amplified his voice, too, so that when he spoke to the crowd gathered beneath him, it was in gentle, kindly tones, and yet all could hear him.

“My beloved children,” he said “At last the causes of our many griefs are brought to justice. The men and woman you see before you destroyed Arhel’s magic. They summoned the murderous monsters who fly against our city, maiming and murdering those you love. These three have, by their every action, brought horror and pain to you who have done nothing to them. They are heretics, despisers of the One True God, and for their many evils, their sentence must be death.”

“Death!” the crowd shouted.

“Burn them!”

“Watch them burn!”

“Children. Oh, my children. We cannot rejoice in their deaths, for the three of them cannot repay you for the hundreds—nay, the thousands—who have died by their actions. There is no joy in this little justice.”

The crowd stilled.

I want my daughter, Faia thought. I want Edrouss. I want to live!

“But, joy or no joy, there will be justice.” Thirk waved a hand, and the people began to throw their burning brands against the bases of the pyres.

Some of the wood was green, and resisted the flames—but more of it caught. Smoke began to curl up into Faia’s eyes, and little tongues of flame licked along the wood at her feet; the flames grew, leaping from stick to board. Bytoris coughed. Edrouss struggled with his bonds, trying to the last to break free.

“Burn! Burn!” the mob screamed.

Faia felt a cool breeze blow against her cheek, and the roar of the crowd dulled to a whisper.

I’m dying already, she thought.

No. I don’t want you to die, Faia. You can set the men free, you can give Arhel back its magic—and you can live.

She saw a hazy shape form in the smoke in front of her. Gyels—Witte.

“What do you want from me, Witte?” she snarled. “What do you demand in exchange for your favors?”

I’m not Witte. I’ve never been Witte. I am that which you know as the Dreaming God—and all I want for my favors is you, Faia. I have been too long alone. If you will agree to come with me, I will save your friends. I will save your Arhel.

He wasn’t Witte? She was shaken—she had been so sure. Gyels was not Witte. He was the Dreaming God—and the Dreaming God was not, and had never been, Edrouss Delmuirie. She wished with her whole heart that he were, that she could give herself to the Dreaming God and by doing so have Edrouss, too.

Instead, she would have nothing. Not her daughter, not her lover, not her life.

But the people she loved would live.

At that instant, Bytoris’s clothing caught fire. The flames licked along his body, and caught his hair, and all the while he screamed, and screamed, the screams clear and loud in Faia’s ears. And Edrouss began to writhe as one tongue of flame danced along the tip of a board that touched his side, burning ever nearer his shirt.

Hurry, Faia, or they die.

Take me,” Faia said, “but save them. Not just from the fire—get them safely away from these madmen. And give Arhel back its magic.”

Gyels smiled at her, and suddenly she was far away, in a universe of light and the music of the infinite.

FAIA was in the emeshest again—but this time she was all the way in; committed both body and soul. Her spirit would not be able to effect a careful retreat this time.

The presence of the Dreaming God surrounded her, pushing his unwanted love and happiness at her.

Let me see!
she demanded.
Let me see what happened to them.

Why must you see them? I told you I would send them to safety.

Let me see.
Faia fought off his attempts to soothe her.

Very well. Look here—see whatever you would see.

In the light of the emeshest, a window opened onto Arhel, a flat circle of dullness and dreariness in the center of the infinite reaches of light and joyousness in which Faia was trapped. She stared hungrily into that plain little window.
Show me Edrouss.

The flames touched his shirt, and his face contorted in agony. But at that instant, he began to glow brilliantly, illuminated from the inside as if he were a suddenly transparent magelight. Bytoris, tied to the pillar beside him, also lit up with that same radiant light—and Faia saw the same thing happen to her own body.

This was just before now,
the Dreaming God told her.

And then the three bodies vanished from the pillars to which they were bound. Faia willed the window to focus on Edrouss Delmuirie; it followed him to the place where he reappeared, a little town nestled in the southern mountains. He fell to the ground, unharmed, and crawled into a barn, and found a place to sleep. Celebrations in the street woke him the next morning—Arhel’s magic had returned. Pure fresh water once again flowed from taps, airboxes flew in the skies above the village, mages and sajes practiced their trades.

Edrouss looked for a place where he could be of use—but he was far from the ruins and the scholars. Magicless, moneyless, without skills, without
her
, he fell into despair. He began taking whatever odd jobs he could find, and with the little money he earned, he bought cheap wine. He drank himself to sleep nights, and ate nothing. The first cold night of winter found him out, in thin clothes, too drunk to seek shelter.