Wild Magic Page 2

  “I’m fine,” Daine said. It was the truth. It was good to be in fresh air, headed away from the city. “It’s easier than it was coming all the way here. The roads were muddy, you know—with the spring floods.”

  “Ever been to Cría before?”

  Daine shook her head. “Never saw a village bigger than Snowsdale, till yesterday.” She sighed. “How can folk live like that, all mashed together?”

  Onua shrugged. “City people. They’re different, is all. They look down their noses if you didn’t grow up penned in.” Getting to her feet, she stretched. “Unless something goes wrong, we’ll make Wishing Hollow by dark—we’ll camp there. We’re making wonderful time, thanks to you.”

  Daine looked at her, baffled. “Me?”

  “This is the fastest I’ve gotten clear of the fair in six years of trade. That’s your doing. You must have the Gift—though I never heard of it being put to such a use.”

  Daine laughed. “Oh, please! I’ve a knack with animals, but no Gift. Ma—” She stopped, then made herself go on. “She tried to teach me, but I never learned. I can’t even start a fire, and Gifted babies manage that. She was so disappointed. Wanted me to follow her path, I s’pose.”

  Onua touched the girl’s hair. “Your mother will be proud no matter what path you take, Daine. I don’t know you well, but anyone can see that.”

  Daine smiled at her. “Thanks.”

  They sat quietly for a few moments, until Onua remembered something. “I saw you draw that bow of yours, but I don’t know what kind of shot you are.

  Daine shrugged. “I’m good.”

  “Mind giving me a demonstration?”

  Daine got up and took her longbow from her packs. “Name your target.” The wood was warm from the sun and bent willingly for the string. She drew it a couple of times back to her ear, loosening her muscles.

  Looking around, Onua spotted a fence that would serve. It lay well within the range of such a powerful bow, but it wasn’t so close that Daine would feel insulted. Walking out to it, she fixed her handkerchief to a post with her belt-knife and returned. “How about three arrows?”

  “Fair enough.” Daine had already fitted one arrow to the string, and her quiver was on her back. Carefully she set her feet, and gently she brought the string back as she focused on her target. The arrow, when she loosed, flew straight and true. Two more followed it.

  Onua gaped. All three arrows clustered neatly at the center of her handkerchief. Their heads were buried so deeply she had to cut them loose.

  “I take it this is something else you have a ‘knack’ for,” she said when Daine came to help.

  “Grandda thought so.” The girl shrugged. “It worked out for the best. His bones got to hurting him so bad he couldn’t even string a bow, so I brought in all our game.”

  The yellow stallion screamed a challenge to a passing draft horse and reared, pawing the air. “Odd’s bobs!” Daine yelled, exasperated. “Can’t a person take her eye off you for a moment without you acting up?” She ran to the stallion’s head and dragged him back down to all fours, holding him until the draft horse walked calmly past.

  Onua came up to them, smiling. “Time to get back to work.”

  Well before dark, Onua led them out of sight of the road and into a grassy hollow sheltered by trees. It was plain other travelers stopped here: the fire pit was lined with stones, and a lean-to kept stacks of firewood dry.

  “Toss you to give the ponies a going-over,” Onua suggested. “For ticks, stones, whatever. Winner gets to dig the latrine trench and catch fish.”

  Daine considered. “I druther check the ponies.”

  Onua grinned. “Wonderful—I feel like a bit of fishing just now.”

  Smiling, Daine went to work. It made no sense to give the ponies a thorough grooming while they were on the road, but she got rid of the worst tangles and checked the animals’ hooves. The strawberry’s ear mites had to be treated again, and Cloud and Tahoi had picked up ticks in forays off the road.

  The girl was finished when Onua returned with two fat trout. “Think this’ll feed us?” the K’mir asked, holding them up.

  “More than. I’m so tired I couldn’t eat but a mouthful.” Daine saw that Onua’s hair was wet and her face pink from scrubbing. “It’s safe to wash?”

  “If you make it fast.”

  “It’s too cold to be slow.” She hesitated. “Need my help with supper?”

  Onua waved her away. “Tahoi’ll keep watch for you.”

  The water was very cold. Daine scrubbed quickly and jumped out, feeling deep respect for Onua’s courage. Supper—fish and a pot of spiced white cereal grains Onua called “rice”—was hot and filling. They ate without talking, but the silence was a comfortable one.

  After the meal, Daine washed up. The fire was banked; their beds lay on the ground, ready for slumber, when she finished. She got into hers with a sigh. It was warm, and the heavy pad underneath eased the day’s aches. As she watched, Onua got several pouches out and tied them to her belt.

  “I told you I had the Gift, right? Well, I’m going to place the wards now. Last call for the latrine.”

  Daine yawned. “I’m set, thanks.” She watched as Onua drew a circle around the camp, ponies and all, first in salt, then in water. Soft chanting came from the woman as she walked the circle a third time, calling on magic powers to guard its contents. Red fire spilled from her hand to follow the circle and complete it.

  “Ma did that,” Daine commented sleepily when Onua finished. “She wasn’t very good with it, though.” It was easier to speak of her mother when she was so tired. “Maybe she’d be alive now if she’d’a been better.”

  “Or not,” Onua said, sliding between her blankets. “There’s always somebody with stronger magic. Lots of raiders have their own witch or mage. That’s why every Rider group has at least one member with the Gift.”

  “Tell me about the Riders. I only know they take girls. Aren’t they like the regular soldiers?”

  “Not exactly. The fancy name is ‘irregulars.’ Tortall has a bad time with bandits, and the army’s too big and too slow. Bandits hit and run. To fight ’em you need to move the same way. The queen, Thayet, she started the Riders seven years back. The groups run six or eight Riders each, male and female, mounted on ponies. Right now there are six groups, posted all over Tortall. They live off the land, protecting the small villages from raiders.”

  “Who runs it?”

  “Queen Thayet is commander in chief. Her guard, Buri, handles day-to-day affairs, so she has the title ‘Commander.’ A black man, Sarge, comes just under them. The king’s champion you heard of, Alanna, she helps out.” Onua looked over and saw that the girl was fast asleep. Smiling, she pulled up her covers and closed her own eyes.

  The badger crawled in with Daine soon after that. Although he was big, he didn’t wake her: she was used to nighttime visitors. Without waking, she caressed the animal’s head. He sighed gratefully and slept too, his muzzle pressed into her palm.

  She did notice him when she woke later and was careful as she sat up.

  “I tell ye, I saw ’em. Two strings of ponies—gold on the hoof down in Tortall.” The speaker’s voice was rough and country bred.

  Reaching for the crossbow beside her, Daine saw that Onua and Tahoi were also awake. The dog’s hackles were up, his teeth bared in a snarl, but he made no sound. Seeing her, the K’mir put a finger to her lips. Daine nodded, easing the bow onto her lap. Inside her bed her guest shifted nervously, quieting only when she rested a hand on his head.

  “If ye saw ’em, then where’d they go?” Leaves rustled as men prowled the hollow around their campsite.

  “I’m no witch, to guess such things! It’s like they vanished off the face of the world.”

  “Shut up. They prob’ly found a farm, or kept movin’. Let’s get back t’ the rest.” The new voice held authority; the others grumbled, but obeyed.

  They had been gone some minutes before Daine
relaxed enough to put down her weapon. Tahoi licked Onua’s face, his tail wagging.

  “It’s all right,” Onua whispered. “Nobody can hear us if we’re quiet.”

  “That’s some protection,” Daine breathed. “With Ma’s circles, you couldn’t get in, but you knew it was there.”

  The K’mir grinned. “Now you know how I can take the road with just my assistant and Tahoi.” She curled up in her blankets. “’Night.”

  The badger grumbled as Daine settled, and walked in her dreams.

  “It’s about time I found you,” he said. “Do you know how long I’ve been looking? I actually had to come into the Human Realms to get a scent of you!”

  “I don’t wish to seem rude,” she apologized, “but why were you looking for me? I don’t believe we’ve met—have we?”

  “Not exactly,” he admitted with an embarrassed snort. “You see, I promised your father I’d keep an eye on you. So I looked in on you when you were a kit, pink and noisy. Then when I looked for you again, you were gone. I forgot time passes differently in the Human Realms.”

  If she had been her waking self, his saying he knew her father would have made her unbearably excited. Now, though, her dream self asked—as if it weren’t too important—“Have you met my da, then?”

  “Yes, yes, of course. Now, see here—I’m not coming to the Human Realms any more than I have to. If you’re going to wander, we must be connected in some way.” He looked at a paw and sighed. “I know it barely hurts and it grows back and all, but I still hate it. So messy.” He began to chew at the base of one of his claws.

  “No, don’t—please!” she protested. “I can’t think—”

  The claw came off. He spat it into her lap. “There. Hang on to it no matter what. This way I won’t lose track of time, and I’ll be able to find you. Understand?”

  She nodded, then gulped. A silvery mist gathered around his paw, and vanished. A new claw had appeared in the bed of the old one.

  “Now go back to sleep.”

  Cold air on her feet woke Daine in the morning. Her guest, working earlier to leave the bedroll, had pulled it apart entirely. She sat up with a yawn and a smile. To think she’d dreamed of a badger who knew her father . . .

  Her hand was locked around something—a large animal’s claw, or a semblance of one. Complete and perfect, it was made of shiny silver.

  “Goddess,” she whispered.

  “Daine?” Onua was dressed and cooking breakfast. “Let’s go.”

  No time to think about it now, she told herself, and scrambled out of her bedroll. Because if I do, I won’t know what to think.

  Later that day, she wove a thong to grip the base of the claw tightly, and hung it around her neck. Just because she wasn’t entirely sure of where it came from was no reason not to keep it close by—just in case.

  TWO

  THE HAWK

  A week later they crossed the River Drell into Tortall on a ferryboat. Watching the Gallan shore pull away, Daine searched her soul. I should tell Onua all the truth, she thought. (By then she had given her new friend the less painful details of her life, and had come to see Onua was right—it felt better to talk.) I should tell the rest—but won’t she turn on me, like they did? Maybe it’s best to keep shut. The madness, the scandal—it’s all back there. Maybe that’s where it should stay.

  She went forward to look at Tortall as it moved closer. I could start fresh. It can’t be worse than home, with folk calling me “bastard” and scorning me. Nobody here knows I’ve no father, and they don’t know about the other thing—the bad thing. They don’t need to know.

  “You worry too much.” Onua ruffled the girl’s hair. “It’ll work out. You’ll see.”

  Cloud butted Daine’s shoulder; Tahoi pawed her leg. Their concern and Onua’s gave her comfort. I’ll manage, she told herself as the ferry bumped the landing dock on the Tortallan shore. Silence is best.

  The country beyond the crossing was a mixture of hills and wide valleys, some of it farmed and grazed, but most left to the woods. Towns here were back from the road, and traffic this early in the spring was thin. There was little to keep them from their usual routine of camp and march, riding the ponies, hunting for game birds or fishing for their supper.

  The third day from the river brought rain, slowing them and the animals down before the sky cleared at day’s end. Both women were up late, getting mud out of shaggy coats and off their own skins and clothes.

  It was the first time on that trip that no animal crawled in with Daine overnight. She slept badly, flipping back and forth, never quite waking or sleeping. Her dreams were thin and worrisome. She remembered only one:

  The badger was in his lair, neatening up. “There you are. I’m glad to see the claw works so well.”

  “Excuse me, sir—” she began.

  “No questions. Kits must listen, not ask. Pay attention.” He squinted at her to make sure she was listening. “If you look hard and long, you can find us. If you listen hard and long, you can hear any of us, call any of us, that you want.” Rolling onto his back, he added, “The madness was to teach you something. You should mind the lesson.”

  She woke a little before dawn. The sky was gray and damp, the air sour.

  “Onua.” When the woman only stirred and muttered, she went over and shook her. “I think trouble’s coming. Last time I felt this way, a rabid bear came out of the woods and killed the blacksmith.”

  “A rabid bear?” The K’mir yanked on her clothes and Daine followed suit. “Goddess, how many of those do you see in a lifetime?”

  “One’s more than enough.” She rolled up her bed and fixed it to her pack. The animals were restless and ill tempered. Tahoi paced the camp, his hackles up. He stopped often to look down the road, only to resume pacing.

  “Maybe it’s another storm?” Onua suggested over breakfast.

  “I don’t think so.” Daine gave her barely touched porridge to Cloud. “My head aches—not aches, exactly. It’s—itchy.” She sniffed the breeze, but picked up only the scent of water and plants. “The wind’s not right, either.”

  Onua looked at her thoughtfully, then doused the fire. “Let’s go.” She hitched the ponies to lead reins while Daine secured the packs. “There’s a fief on the other side of this next valley, near a marsh. If need be, we’ll ask for shelter. I’d prefer not to.” She strung her curved bow. “Lord Sinthya doesn’t like the queen; he loathes the Riders. Still, we can wait a storm out in his barns, particularly if no one tells him we’re there. If we’re caught in the marsh, we’re in trouble. I don’t have any marsh craft.”

  Daine warmed her longbow and strung it. The quiver’s weight on her back made her feel better as they took the road. Past the next ridge she saw a wide, shallow valley filled with reeds and water, with nowhere to hide.

  By the time they reached the center of the green expanse, the hair was standing straight out on the back of her neck. Where are the frogs, and the birds? she wondered when they stopped for a breather. I don’t even see dragonflies.

  Something made her glance at the wood that bordered the far edge of the marsh. “Onua!” She pointed as a bird shot from the cover of the trees. It was black and hawk-shaped, flying crazily, as if drunk.

  Shrieks, metallic and shrill, tore the air. Eight giant things—they looked like birds at first—chased the hawk out of the cover of the trees. Immense wings beat the air that reached the women and ponies, filling their noses with a stink so foul it made Daine retch. The ponies screamed in panic.

  Daine tried to soothe them, though she wanted to scream too. These were monsters. No animal combined a human head and chest with a bird’s legs and wings. Sunlight bounded off talons and feathers that shone like steel. She counted five males, three females: one female wore a crown of black glass.

  Onua gave a two-fingered whistle that could be heard the length of the valley. When the monsters turned to find the source of the noise, their quarry dropped into the cover of the reeds and v
anished. The monsters swept the area, over and over, trying to find the black hawk, without success.

  “Look at them,” Onua whispered. “They use a grid pattern to search by—they’re working that part of the marsh in squares. They’re intelligent.”

  “And they can’t land easy on level ground,” Daine pointed out. “Those claws aren’t meant to flatten out. They have to fly—they can’t walk.”

  When the creatures gave up, they turned on the women.

  Daine watched them come, her bow—like Onua’s—ready to fire. The attackers were smeared with filth. When they spoke or smiled, she saw razor-sharp teeth caked with what she knew was old blood. Halting over the road, they fanned their wings to stay aloft. Their smell was suffocating.

  “We almost had the motherless spy,” one of them snarled.

  “But you had to interfere,” another said. “Never interfere with us.” It lifted its wings above its head and stooped. The others followed.

  “Daine, fire!” Onua shot: her arrow struck the first, hitting a wing with a sound of metal on metal, and bounced off. Daine struck a man-thing square in the throat. He dropped with a cry that brought sweat to her face.

  Onua and Daine fired steadily, aiming for the flesh of heads and chests. A female almost grabbed Daine by the hair before Onua killed her. Cloud got one by a leg, and Tahoi seized its other foot. Together pony and dog tore the monster apart. Birds—herons, bitterns, plovers, larks—rose from hiding places to fight the creatures, blinding some, pecking others, clogging the air so the enemy couldn’t see. Many paid for their help with their lives.

  The glass-crowned one was finally the only monster alive. She hovered just out of Onua’s range, one of the K’mir’s arrows lodged in her shoulder.

  “Pink pigs!” she snarled. “How dare you defy me, maggots! You filth!”

  “Look who’s talking,” Daine shouted, sliding an arrow onto her string. She lowered her bow, wanting the creature to think she was done. “Your ma was a leech with bad teeth,” she taunted. Onua laughed in spite of herself. “Your da was a peahen. I know chickens with more brains than you!”