Wolf in the Fold, page 23
“Did we walk into someone’s territory,” Cat asked as the party started to walk again, “or are they trying to stop us?”
“They could have done a great deal more damage if they’d been trying to stop us,” Penny pointed out. “If they’d rolled gunpowder barrels down the mountainside and set them on fire, we’d all be dead. Or wishing we were.”
Serigala cleared his throat. “How many were there?”
“Just one, that I saw,” Emily said. “Hooded and cloaked.”
“There were some hermits living near the ruins of Zalesia, a few years ago, who were very hostile to anyone passing through their territory,” Serigala said. “He” – he pointed upwards – “could be someone like them, someone who wants to be left alone.”
“They could have just let us pass,” Caleb pointed out. “We wouldn’t even know he was there if he hadn’t attacked us.”
“They don’t like letting people go,” Serigala said. “They think it means more people will pass through their lands.”
“Could be,” Cat agreed.
Emily wasn’t so sure. It was quite possible for someone to live in the northern reaches indefinitely, if they knew which plants could be eaten safely and how to trap and cook small animals, but here? The Blighted Lands was not a safe place and there was no way to be certain which plants were safe to eat and which were nothing more than poison. A hermit who lived this far from civilisation would be lucky to survive a few months, unless he had somehow adapted to the tainted magic. It wasn’t impossible, but she doubted it. It was a remarkable coincidence, if it was one. She wouldn’t put money on it.
“We’ll keep going, and keep our eyes open,” she said. Could they hide themselves? She didn’t think so. If the enemy was following them from a safe distance, it was unlikely they could break contact without going miles out of their way. The sense they were running out of time was growing stronger with every passing second. “And if they attack us again, we’ll be ready.”
“And you’d better keep practicing with the broomstick,” Cat teased. “Isn’t it like ...”
Penny hit him.
Emily didn’t bother to hide her amusement. The joke hadn’t been funny at Laughter and it wasn’t funny now, although it did prove that Cat and Penny had a good relationship. She had known masters who exploded with rage at the thought of even the slightest hint of defiance and Penny had gone a little further than that, crossing the line in a manner that would have given those masters a heart attack. But Cat had nothing to prove.
“Charming,” Caleb said, deadpan.
Frieda put on a childish voice. “Are we there yet?”
“No,” Emily said. It felt as if they’d been travelling forever. “We have several days to go.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Emily hadn’t quite realised just how long the journey was going to be.
The Allied Lands were vast, true, but they were settled and civilised. Travellers could rely on inns, or simply paying farmers to put them up for the night, or even arrange to be teleported to their final destination if they couldn’t step through a portal. The Blighted Lands were very different. They rode all day, set up camp each and every night, then continued their journey the following morning. The days seemed to blur together, long hours of boredom and philosophical discussions by Serigala followed by brief moments of excitement, from magical storms to possible enemy attacks. Emily half-expected to be attacked at any moment. If the enemy was trying to wear them out, it was succeeding.
“Next time, we should take a trip somewhere else,” Caleb muttered. This endless march was grinding them all down, Cat and Penny snapping at each other and Frieda snarling at Serigala whenever he tried to engage her in conversation. “Or arrange for an airship instead.”
“If we can get one into the Blighted Lands,” Emily pointed out. She had slept better than usual but still felt dog-tired, knowing she shouldn’t close her eyes even though she was riding behind him and could theoretically get some more sleep while they rode. “But we don’t know if it can be done.”
She rubbed her forehead, cursing under her breath. It was the Blighted Lands that were grinding them down, all the odd stuff: things moving in the shadows, flickers of heat and cold, much less the strange magic all around them. It felt as if the region was permanently on the verge of a thunderstorm, sparkles of light dancing at the corner of her eyes and sending stabbing pains deep into her skull. The sense of threat was all around them, a constant warning of impending trouble that made it hard to sleep or rest, as she had the feeling that without staying alert, she would close her eyes and never open them again. There was nothing to be done, she told herself over and over, except to endure, praying they would reach their destination in time. She tried not to think about anything else, because it was out of their hands.
“We could set up windmills to drain the tainted magic,” Caleb said, in an attempt to distract her. “And then this land might be worth something again.”
“The work of generations,” Emily managed. Her headache was growing worse. Cat and Serigala were the only ones who didn’t seem to be affected, somewhat to her surprise. Cat was usually incredibly sensitive to magic. Perhaps he was just hiding his unease better. “I think it’ll be a long time before we can cleanse this region, if at all.”
The thought haunted her as they crossed mountains and rivers, passing through the remnants of old cities and other structures that had been so badly eroded it was hard to tell what they’d been. It was hard to believe that people had actually lived in the ruined settlements, that they’d had hopes and dreams and lives that had been stolen by the necromancers, when the settlements had little left to inspect. She saw clusters of buildings that might have been the core of a settlement, once, but the rest was gone ... her heart twisted painfully, hoping the locals had gotten out before the end. It was rare for refugee populations to maintain any kind of separate identity in the Allied Lands. Usually, they were given a flat choice between integrating or getting kicked out. If they had fled ...
She shook her head. It was unlikely any prospective settlers had reached the north.
“We should be able to make camp here,” Cat said. He scowled as he peered towards a cluster of distant buildings, so alien Emily knew they hadn’t been made by human hands. Just looking at them made her head hurt even more, as if the designer had been insane and the builders drunk when they built it. “Don’t go anywhere near the buildings. Really.”
He shot Serigala a sharp look. The professor had never been able to explain why he’d slipped into the underground catacombs, although Emily suspected it owed much to scientific curiosity ... something she understood well. She’d seen enough alien ruins near Whitehall and was aware of most of the dangers, or the risk of being left behind if she walked into a ruin and placed herself beyond all hope of rescue. Sergeant Miles had made it very clear they would be left behind ... Emily hadn’t quite believed him, but she’d been reluctant to put it to the test. The sergeants had been responsible for every student in the class, not just her. They had to focus on the good of the majority.
She put the thought aside as she drew out the wardlines, surveying the local environment. The plain – it looked like baked mud, so solid it wasn’t easy to put down even the slightest rune – offered no cover for anyone who wanted to sneak up on them, She didn’t think there was anything hidden in the ground,. Cat and Penny built the fire with practiced ease, while Caleb and Frieda put the tents together ... Emily caught Caleb’s eye and for a moment was sure they shared the same thought, that it would be nice to share a sleeping bag as well as a tent. She sighed inwardly. Their relationship wasn’t a secret, they both knew all kinds of silencing spells, but the thought of having so many eyes and ears nearby rather killed the groove. She shook her head in dismay. It was just ... frustrating.
“Tonight’s dinner, delicious ration bars,” Cat announced, in a tone of absolutely fake enthusiasm. “With a side of ration bars, and a drink of water ... flavoured with ration bars.”
“I hate you,” Penny said. “Next time, let’s bring more food.”
“Yep.” Cat winked. “More ration bars.”
Emily signed inwardly. The ration bars weren’t bad, but they were boring and tasteless. She was thoroughly sick of them. They all were. She eyed the distant greenery, as eerie and alien as the rest of the environment, then bit down on that thought before it could take root. The idea of eating something growing near the alien city was unthinkable. They’d be lucky if it didn’t kill them on the spot.
“I’ll take first watch,” Frieda said, when the meal was over. “Emily, do you want the second?”
“Not particularly.” Emily wasn’t sure if it was her turn. The days had blurred together so completely she wasn’t sure of anything. “But yeah, wake me in a few hours.”
She took one last look at the alien city, invisible in the darkening land and yet so present she felt like she could still see it even though it was too dark, then turned away and clambered into the tent. Caleb joined her a moment later ... she wanted him beside her and had to fight to keep herself from inviting him into the sleeping bag. They were designed to be combined together ... she bit her lip and closed her eyes, taking his hand in hers and holding it. A few years ago, it had been difficult for her to share a bed with him ... with anyone. Now, it felt wrong not to have him in her bed.
You won’t be able to spend every night with him, even after you’re married, Emily told herself, grimly. They would be living together, true, but there were things they couldn’t share. Hell, where are we going to live?
The thought mocked her. They couldn’t live in Dragon’s Den or Void’s Tower because Caleb had to work at Heart’s Eye ... she wondered, suddenly, how hard it would be if they tried to live in Cockatrice. She was the Baroness, of course, but half the aristos would want to deal with her husband, on the assumption she’d signed over everything she owned to him when she took her wedding vows. Bastards. Hadn’t they learnt anything from Alassa? But then, they’d practically marginalised Queen Marlena as soon as King Randor had been confirmed dead. Alassa’s mother had never had any formal authority, and much of her influence had died with her husband. Even Alassa had never been quite sure about listening to her.
Something else we’re going to have to discuss, she mused, as she shifted against him. Where the hell are we going to live?
She shook her head, mentally. She had a good team in Cockatrice and they’d be happier with her somewhere else, where she wasn’t looking over their shoulder like a bear with a toothache. The tower and the townhouse ... she could teleport there, if need be, or arrange for Frieda to live in the townhouse if it was what she wished. Or ... if she was serious about an apprenticeship, they could live in Heart’s Eye. Or ...
The flap rustled. She jerked awake. “Emily?”
Emily stirred. Had she slept?
“Yeah,” she managed. The night should have been cold, but instead it was uncomfortably warm. “My turn?”
“Yes, sorry,” Frieda said. “I can stand guard a little longer ...”
Emily shook her head as she crawled out of the tent. Frieda couldn’t stay on watch the rest of the night, no matter how tempting it sounded. There were limits to how long someone could stay awake and alert, no matter what potions they took. The sergeants had always taught her to avoid potions where possible, pointing out they came with nasty side effects. She blinked as she saw Serigala sitting on the far side of the fire, staring into the flames. He was so unmoving she would have wondered if he were asleep, if his eyes weren’t open.
“We should have brought Hoban,” Frieda muttered. “That gent has been irritating me.”
Emily shot her a sharp look. “Why?”
“He was quizzing me about the thing we found in the Cairngorms,” Frieda said. “He thought we should have tried to take it intact.”
“Go to bed,” Emily advised. She didn’t blame Serigala for wanting to ask about the artefact of unknown origin, something that had come far too close to killing Frieda and the rest of her team, but the whole affair wasn’t something Frieda wanted to discuss. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Frieda shrugged. “Watch yourself,” she said. “There’s something about him that’s a little off.”
Emily watched her go, unsure just what to say. Frieda wouldn’t have had much to do with people like Serigala ... no, that wasn’t true. Hoban was in the same line of work, if a lot younger and less experienced. Perhaps Serigala was too academic for Frieda’s peace of mind, or she’d expected someone a little more like her boyfriend. Or she’d picked up on something Emily had missed. It wasn't impossible. Frieda had always been better at reading people than Emily was.
She turned slightly, checking the wardlines before looking up at the alien structure. It was lost in the shadows and yet it was there, seemingly more real than the rest of the world. She could feel it tugging at her, inviting her to unravel its mysteries ... she shook her head. A human who walked in alone might not come out again. Or worse ...
“I couldn’t sleep,” Serigala said, looking up from the fire. “How about you?”
“You’ll feel rotten in the morning,” Emily advised, dryly. “I don’t want to have to tie you to the horse.”
“It can’t be helped,” Serigala said. He didn’t make the joke she would have expected from some of her younger compatriots, the suggestion she could ride his horse and he could cling to her. “I don’t need much sleep. Age does have some advantages.”
“You still need some,” Emily told him. “How do you plan to stay awake forever?”
“I don’t.” Serigala turned, looking towards the ruin. “That’s a Faerie structure, you know.”
Emily eyed his back warily. Another talk? Another discussion about the roots of magic?
“We know little about them,” Serigala said. “They invaded twice, devastated our world, and then vanished as quickly as they came. There’s no rhyme or reason to their movements, no suggestion of any understandable logic ... their tactics made no sense, their strategy even less so. They came out of nowhere, as far as we can tell, wielding powers beyond all comprehension. The necromancers are – were – understandable, if difficult to beat. The Faerie were just too alien for us to comprehend.”
He looked back at her. “And they sowed terror, a terror so great it is hard to tell how many of the horror stories are real and how many are nothing more than nonsense, or exaggerated to the point the truth is buried under a mountain of absurdities. Even now, with no one alive who remembers those days, the terror is real. We just don’t understand what really happened and we probably never will.”
Emily frowned, recalling the entity she’d sensed at Heart’s Eye. She’d though it was a Faerie at the time, some creature from the higher realms that had barely been able to manipulate the human world, risking the destruction of everything in a desperate bid for freedom. Reality itself had been breaking down ... it was funny, she reflected dourly, how many people appeared to have forgotten the whole affair. It had taken on a nightmarish sheen, a dream so terrible it had shocked her awake ... only to fade in the morning. Even she had trouble believing what she’d seen. She would be happier considering it all a dream. She certainly had no idea how much of what they’d seen and heard had been real.
“No,” she agreed, finally.
Serigala frowned. “There were creatures hunting the Whitehall Commune,” he mused. “Were they Faerie? Or something else? Something long forgotten in the mists of time?”
Manavores, Emily recalled. The entities had been utterly alien, creatures so different it was hard to get a clear idea of their appearance, let alone anything else. They’d been multidimensional entities, slipping through – perhaps above or around – human defences, as casually as a three-dimensional creature might crush a two-dimensional stick figure. And we saw those at Heart’s Eye too.
“I don’t know, she said, finally. There were things she didn’t want to talk about, not now and not ever. Serigala knew more than he should already. “We may never know.”
“We need to know,” Serigala said. “All the old tales, they speak of a world governed by a force humans couldn’t understand, let alone control. Magic ... was a living thing, a force within the world that ... that was utterly unpredictable, shifting everything seemingly at random. The first magicians didn’t control magic as much as they were controlled by magic, and it wasn’t until Lord Whitehall that magic finally came under some degree of control. We’ve spent nearly a thousand years learning more and more, after that, but there’s a great many questions remaining to be answered. What happened to bring magic to this world and why?”
Emily had no answer. She leaned forward instead. “Why do you want to know?”
“I’ve always wanted to know how things work,” Serigala said. “Haven’t you?”
Emily hesitated. Magic was wonderful, would always be wondrous, and yet ... she felt a twinge of doubt about the wisdom of studying, analysing and cataloguing magic, for fear of breaking something rare and valuable and turning it into just another commodity. There would be no mysteries left, once the human race understood everything ... she wondered, uneasily, if the end result of Heart’s Eye would to eradicate the wonder once and for all. Random flashes of chaos would be replaced by cold calculation and ... would it be good or bad? Perhaps both. It would certainly be different.
“Our ancestors were at the mercy of forces they couldn’t understand,” Serigala said, quietly. The quiet passion in his voice surprised her. “But what if we could understand those forces, harness them? The world would be changed once again.”
“For good and for bad,” Emily mused. She didn’t want to continue the discussion. “Get some rest, Professor. We still have a long way to go.”
