The Mage From Nowhere, page 23
“You are giving me freedom?”
“I’m giving you responsibility right now. Do not prove me wrong. I do not want to hear more complaints about you from citizens, your fellow sorcerers, or even from Lord Langston. You will behave yourself appropriately, or there will be serious consequences. Very serious. If you do not feel ready to patrol the city without causing problems, then solely train. Do you understand?”
“I do.”
“You will be given papers identifying you as one of my sorcerers. If you make me regret this or cause Zarin or Leon to change their opinion of you, then you will be dismissed permanently. And yes, it is because you are the son of Caarda that you have been given these chances. I recommend you do not squander them.”
“My gratitude.” Tarak gave a bow. He stood up swiftly. “I am to be paid for my service, now? I owe coin to a farmer who assisted me after I saved Aliana’s life and was left passed out with no shirt.”
“How much do you owe?”
“Five silver,” Tarak answered quickly.
“Lord Langston will issue you five silver tomorrow, but it must be repaid to this farmer. All of it. You will earn your first stipend at a later time, so long as you behave.”
“Marvelous,” Tarak said, then gave a deeper bow. “You will not regret this, your majesty.” He bowed to Reuben Langston Senior. “My lord, and my, umm…” He looked at Leon, then at Zarin.
“Ass kissing does not behoove you,” Leon said.
“Right. Quit with advantage.” Tarak waved as he turned and hurried off. “Thank you, fine sirs.”
“Sire…” Lord Langston began.
“I know your opinion on the matter.” Nykal stood up. “But we have wasted enough time on this. What is the worst that can happen with Tarak? If he disappoints us again, I will banish him before he can do any real damage, but his arrests in the brothel are not grounds for dismissal yet.”
“As you say, sire.”
“Leon, I’d like to speak with you,” Nykal said.
The rest left the two of them alone. As Nykal changed demeanor, Leon had a good feeling what this was about.
“What happened with your other daughter?”
“I told you to stop calling her that,” Nykal snapped. “She was offered half the gold upon entering the carriage and the other half after arriving, but she jumped out sometime before passing by Hemstown. She was gone when the driver stopped to check on her there. You are the only one who knows the truth about Tienna, besides the queen. I want you to see if you can find her and bring her to me discreetly.”
“A couple of questions, sire.”
“Yes?”
“How the hell am I supposed to do that? And what the hell are you going to do with her if I somehow do manage to find her and bring her here?”
“I expect you to ask about someone matching her description. Someone might have seen her. Once you catch her, you will bring her here as a criminal arrested for the crime of theft. Put her in the dungeon as you would anyone else, and I will deal with her when I can.”
“Are you saying she stole from you?”
“I’m saying it doesn’t matter. She will be arrested for theft and sit in the dungeon until I know what to do with her.”
Leon said, “I’m not sure I can do that.”
“You have done everything else I’ve asked of you.”
“None of those things crossed a line.”
Nykal made a fist. “I do not ask you to trust me often, do I?”
“No.”
“I’m asking you to trust me now. I know enough about this young woman to believe that, while a life at the castle may improve her situation, it will be worse for everyone else and ultimately the people of Lycast.”
Leon, perhaps, made a face, for the king didn’t let up.
“Leon, I am not saying this because she is my illegitimate daughter and I only wish to get rid of her. I see her mother in her. She is trouble, as her mother was.”
Nykal had a way of convincing anyone to do his bidding. It was what led to him being king in the first place, that and his good ideas, which were secondary.
“I will do as you ask,” Leon conceded, “but I will not agree with it.”
“That is good enough.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
It was the morning after Tarak had almost been kicked out. He planned to ride Dagaric out of the castle today. He would visit Walter, the farmer who had helped ensure that wolves didn’t pick at Tarak when he’d passed out just beyond the farmer’s land.
Tarak had better be a good boy now. That meant keeping his distance from the princess, or trying to at least. No, he had better. No trying, only doing. He had told himself this during his morning bath before sitting down for breakfast with Michael, Arthur, Charlie, and Reuben. Tarak did get the chance to thank Charlie for the book and give the lad his deserved compliments, which in turn made Michael admit to wanting to read the book for the first time. Charlie said he would lend it to him if Michael promised to read it only in his room and never near a full glass. Michael changed his mind.
Tarak had been told not to bother Charlie by requesting instruction, but a little time here and there, especially while eating, couldn’t get Tarak into trouble. Besides, Charlie seemed very inquisitive about Tarak’s progress, which unfortunately had halted yesterday as he had chased down the analytes.
Reuben seemed surprised to hear what Tarak and Michael—without mention of Arthur—had done to capture and slay the thieves. Reuben was less surprised, however, when he found out that Tarak had almost been removed from the castle because of his mistake of getting lost and his subsequent chasing and killing of these criminals.
“Lord’s mercy, Tarak,” Reuben uttered. “I hope I don’t get in trouble for giving you the tracker ring.”
Michael commented, “You are incapable of getting in trouble with your father here.”
But Reuben scoffed. “You don’t know what it’s like to be his son. He holds me more accountable than anyone. You should hear him talk about Burda.”
Tarak asked who that was and found out that Burda was Reuben’s lady, someone disapproved of by his father because she had been a serving girl at a tavern before they met.
Tarak wanted to stay and chat, but the girls had already left their table and Tarak wasn’t able to resist following the princess to speak with her.
Leon appeared seemingly from nowhere and blocked Tarak from reaching her with a look as if Leon would rip Tarak’s ear off if he continued, and it was probably a good thing. Tarak didn’t know what he was going to tell Callie. He hadn’t been able to get out of his head how beautiful she looked today. She always had on fancy dresses that fit snugly around her trim waist before running down the curve of her hips, the sight of which made Tarak feel like a magnet was pulling his eyes her way as she walked by.
Perhaps if he had time today, he would find himself a nice lady who was not engaged to a rich, older man. It had been a while, and he did not like himself in this state. How long had it been? Over four hundred years…that was far too long!
Tarak rushed to leave the castle. He would visit Walter, hand off the silver with some nice words of gratitude, then hurry back to train. He would be a good boy. He would.
He rode out of the city on Dagaric.
He didn’t realize he was still distracted by the girl who he couldn’t have…the girl who he could almost swear thought about him in the same way…until the terrain suddenly changed.
“Whoa, Dagaric.” Tarak had crossed into the woods.
What was the name of these woods again, Cutehips Forest? That couldn’t be right.
Of course Dagaric would not stop for Tarak, but he did turn around and head back to the road at Tarak’s command.
Walter’s farm really was the closest anything could be to the forest without encroaching into the twisting line of trees that made up the edge. No wonder wolves were an issue. The sound of Dagaric’s heavy hoofs pulled Walter’s attention from his wet yet empty field. The old man, a shovel in hand, looked up and wiped the sweat off his forehead. He looked already defeated by this hot day, and it was barely noon.
Tarak, quite embarrassed at what he now had to do, told his horse, “I will jump off, as you please. Keep a slow pace for me, will you?”
As Tarak swung his legs over to ride sidesaddle for a moment, the horse broke into a trot. Tarak jumped off anyway and rolled across the dusty ground, stopping just before Walter’s fence.
“Is that the big fellow I found passed out?” Walter approached. “Is that you, boy?”
“It certainly is.”
“Shit the bed almighty, you got yourself a horse and some nice clothes. Why jump off that thing? Now you dirtied yourself up.”
“The horse refuses to stop, Walter! Not until you jump off, can you see?”
“I never heard of something like that. I would take him right back from where you bought him. Wait a darn minute. How did you buy him? You told me you had no money.”
“This might be hard to believe, but I have discovered I am a sorcerer and I now work for the king.” Tarak produced a coin purse he had so gleefully been handed by Lord Langston. It had five silver coins. Lord Langston reminded Tarak that he still owed the lord four silver, but because the lord was a gentleman, he would allow this farmer to be paid back first.
Tarak handed five over and refused to let the nice man give any back, as hard as he tried for some time.
“You took care of me when no one else would. I was in your debt. Now I feel better.”
“Well I won’t lie. I could use the coin. I paid a water mage just this morning, hence the wet field. I’ll probably have to pay another before something will grow unless I’m blessed with the same rain that fell upon the city. Were you there that night? I heard it came down harder than it has in ten years.”
“It did. Some people are saying it was a Deviant.”
“A what?”
“A demigod.”
“Oh, one of them is back? I thought they left.”
“It could be a new one. It is too early to tell.”
“Well whoever it was, if you run into them, send them my way.”
“I will, Walter.” Tarak retrieved his horse and climbed on.
A wave of rippling energy shot out from the forest and threw Tarak from his horse. It somehow did not scare the animal even though it had shocked Tarak. He sat up.
“What was th—?”
But before Tarak could finish his sentence, a sound unlike anything Tarak had heard followed the energy. It was like an eruption of force, air clapping so loud that this time Dagaric up and sprinted away.
“Hey, come back!” Tarak yelled as he ran after the animal. He could hear Walter shouting from behind him.
“I ain’t never heard anything like that! It came from the forest, boy!”
Dagaric did come to a stop, allowing Tarak to take him by the reins and lead him back to the farm.
“I think I feel something,” Tarak said as he sensed a force of some kind from deep within the forest. “It might be the source of whatever that was.” Tarak hopped on Dagaric and started into the woods. “I have to go!”
“Be safe,” Walter called after him.
This abnormal force was like a strange smell that he could only detect with his mana. Dagaric wove around the thick trees and jumped over the dense shrubbery. It was almost as if the animal needed no direction, curious on his own as to what had caused such an explosion of energy.
Soon, however, the sense of this abnormality disappeared completely. There was nothing left to give Tarak direction except for him to continue riding on the same course.
After a couple miles, Tarak worried that he had veered off track. Dagaric no longer seemed curious. All traces of the event were gone, that was, until Tarak came across a strange sight.
Clumps of wet dirt littered the forest floor in just about every direction. As he continued on, the dirt clusters became larger. Previously buried rocks were upturned and speckled. He eventually noticed a crater ahead that was too deep to see the bottom from a distance. He didn’t want to ride Dagaric too close, so he jumped off the moving horse and rolled over himself.
“Bastard animal,” he muttered as he got up and dusted himself off. Then he went to the edge of the crater for a look.
There was a young woman at the bottom, her pinkish-violet hair telling Tarak of her race.
“Not another one,” he muttered. “What now?”
Apparently he still did hold anger for them as a group.
She didn’t seem to notice him watching as she was too focused on making a pile out of some sort of metal chunks and brushing dirt away as if to look for more.
“What are you doing?” Tarak asked.
She spun around with a gasp.
“Did you cause that blast earlier?” he tried.
She cocked her head as if she didn’t understand him. Then she muttered something.
“What?” He put his hand behind his ear.
She spoke louder. It was definitely another language, and she was definitely annoyed about something.
“Can you understand me?” Tarak tried.
She gestured at him and yelled something. She continued to yell as she picked up one of the clustered chunks of silver metal and pointed at it.
“I do not understand you. Do you want assistance?” He got down on his stomach and offered a hand.
She began chucking the chunks of metal out of the crater. There weren’t very many, perhaps six or so. Some were as large as Tarak’s big feet and others were as small as the analyte woman’s dainty hands.
A thought crossed Tarak’s mind that should’ve occurred earlier. If this woman did create the massive blast, why was Tarak so unafraid of her? It was because she was a thin woman at the bottom of a crater, he realized. Should he really be helping her out before he knew more about her?
He retracted his hand just as she began to reach for it.
“Leywey,” she said. “Leywey!”
Tarak wished he knew at least a few words of the analyte language, but he couldn’t even greet her if he wanted to. He looked around but saw no one.
“Is anyone nearby?” he shouted, hoping maybe someone knew a little bit of the language. Perhaps he was being stupid again and was alerting murderous men who also were out looking for what had caused that blast. He knew nothing about the situation, nothing. Better to just go back to the castle for backup.
But would it really be better to leave her in this crater? She would get out eventually on her own, and then Tarak might never see her again. She might have useful information.
She couldn’t possibly know more about Tarak than he did about her…so why was she trusting of him? She must really want help.
He looked at her more closely. She didn’t look very menacing, but he imagined for a moment that she were a man who looked like that grain trader, Orvyn. Tarak doubted he would be pulling that man out without a second thought. Maybe it was worthwhile to consider this situation a bit longer.
The woman appeared around the same age as Tarak, though it was tough to tell for sure. Her hair color was quite wild, a pinkish purple that Tarak had only seen before in flowers. Her locks were long and thick, falling down to her chest. She had high cheekbones yet a dainty, somewhat pointed chin. With her small face, but large lavender eyes below cinnamon eyebrows, it was almost impossible to imagine her harming Tarak.
He decided to investigate one of the metal chunks she had thrown out of the crater. It was strangely warm. It didn’t look all that different from silver, but it felt lighter and perhaps more brittle.
She yelled, “Leywey ya! Leywey!”
He stuck his head out over the crater. “I need to find out if you are dangerous. You are analyte?”
“Analyte.” She nodded, then pointed at him. “Dorrin, you. Dorrin.”
Tarak didn’t know this word, but it was a good sign she could say “you.”
“Me, human,” he tried.
“Yes, me human. Me analyte. You human. You dorrin.”
“Oh, is dorrin a human who is not analyte?”
She nodded. “Yes. Leywey, dorrin. Leywey!” She put her hands up, clearly wanting to be pulled out.
He lay down and offered his one arm. She seemed hesitant suddenly.
She said a few words in her language that he couldn’t quite pick up, but he could tell from her gestures that she worried she would pull him into the crater.
“You do not look very heavy, and I am strong,” he explained. He shook his hand one time, firmly.
She appeared nervous as she went to her toes and reached up. He grabbed her by her wrist as she grabbed his, and she put her other hand on top. He slowly pulled her up by his one arm.
She was light enough for him to get to his knees and lift her all the way, setting her down on her feet. She seemed surprised by his strength, and even more so by his height as he stood up from his knees and towered over her.
Strangely, there was no dirt on her face or even on much of her clothing, just around her hands and sleeves. Her outfit was an oddity: a thick checkered robe of white and black that seemed more like some sort of uniform than everyday attire.
“Rohaer?” she asked nervously, gesturing around them.
“No, Lycast,” Tarak answered.
“Lycast? Lycast?” she repeated, as if that couldn’t be right.
“Yes, Lycast.”
She muttered something as she went to collect the scattered chunks of metal and started putting them into a pile again. She looked around as she went and soon noticed Dagaric grazing. She pointed at the animal and seemed to ask Tarak something.
“Yes, that is my horse.”
“Falle!” she said, then spread her arms as wide as she could and turned vertically. “Falle,” she repeated. “You, falle. Opalun falle.”
“Falle big?” Tarak guessed.
“Yes,” she said with a nod.
“Opalun horse?” He pointed to his animal.
“Yes!”
Tarak picked up one of the chunks of metal and showed his confusion.
