Roar, page 15
So instead he concentrated on his defences as he waited for the woman to come to him. He was fairly sure she would. She seemed utterly intent on killing him. Thorm cast and then recast his barrier spells, strengthening them over and over again, until even the terrible blasts she had hit him with would wither. At least, he hoped they would. Then he pulled his fire spells close to him as well, knowing he would have to strike back. He also pulled to him one spell that he knew would cause her a lot of pain. He wouldn’t normally use it but she was trying to kill him and so far he didn’t seem to be able to stop her.
It was several minutes before Thorm once again heard the woman's mocking tones. By then he thought he was as ready for her as he could be.
“Is the little kitty upset?” She started up again, trying to distract him.
The fact that he could hear her suggested that she was close enough for him to act. Close enough he hoped, unless she was using magic to throw her voice. But he didn't have time to worry about that.
Thorm released his fire into the furiously spinning winds. It worked as he had hoped and in a heartbeat he was surrounded by a tornado of fire that shot out flames in all directions as it spun. It wasn't as hot as it needed to be to kill the woman, but then that wasn’t his intent. It caught her completely by surprise, and the witch screamed, instinctively trying to counter it. In doing so she let down her spells of concealment.
That was her undoing.
He saw her! Only a hundred paces from him! And then he charged her! Thorm roared and sprinted for her with all the speed he could muster, bringing the fiery tornado with him as he went. For good or ill he was now a lion. And an angry one at that. He covered the ground in a blur of orange flame.
It was the woman's turn to scream in terror as she saw the twisting mass of fire racing towards her. She raised her own barrier spells which as expected, were far stronger than anything he could manage. But that didn't matter to him as he closed the distance between them at frightening speed. What mattered was that as she saw fire approaching her at terrible speed and desperately defended herself against it, she forgot the lion at its heart.
Until he leapt at her, roaring angrily, arms outstretched, claws extended. She screamed, her eyes widened in shock, as he suddenly appeared and he saw her try to raise her arms to fend him off. But she didn't have the time. Not when he was already on top of her, claws digging into her shoulders as he carried her to the ground.
And then she was down, lying on the ground, trying to scream with terror even as he roared into her face from a distance of six inches, his weight preventing her from moving.
After that the battle was his. She was in pain and clearly terrified. An added bonus was that lying across her body as he was, almost any magic she tried to use against him was likely to kill her too as his claws were buried deep in her flesh. Even better, fire, claws and his thunderous roar all succeeded in ensuring she couldn't think straight. Which had always been his plan. All wizards, even the most powerful of them, had to concentrate to cast. He had made sure she couldn't do that.
Unfortunately he couldn't ask her the questions he desperately wanted to. He couldn't get the answers he needed. All he could do was roar and scare her. Or kill her if he chose.
But he didn't want to kill her. Even hurting and angry as he was he didn't like the idea of killing an old woman. Not even one with such terrible magic raging behind her eyes who had tried her best to kill him and would no doubt try again. His family wouldn't be able to look at him if he did such a thing. And the priests of Zara would cast him out of the faith. Instead he studied her for a bit, even as he tried to work out who and what she was. Or how to extricate himself without allowing her to mount another attack.
She was some sort of hag. A fell witch. Her magic was much like that of the hag he'd faced before. Wild, powerful and seemingly uncontrolled. But unlike the hag who'd destroyed his shop and then turned him into this, she did still command it. Her face showed discipline. Wrinkles etched deep in the skin spoke of study and purpose. And no matter how it raged her magic did not break free. She was the storm contained in the steel box.
Which meant that she might know what he needed to find out. And he desperately wanted those answers. Dead wizards didn't answer questions. Though if she did know he doubted she would tell him even if he could question her. She had attacked him after all. Now he had defeated her. Possibly she would feel humiliated. Certainly she had felt pain from the lick of fire across her body and the depth of his claws buried in her flesh. She wasn't going to tell him anything.
And he didn't even know why she'd attacked him. Was it simply because he was a lion with magic? Or did she really think she was protecting the escaped prisoners?
What should he do? Kill her or let her go? Those seemed to be his choices, and neither seemed good. Perhaps he should knock her out and then take his leave? But she was an old woman and there was a chance that any blow from his paw would end up killing her even if he kept his claws sheathed.
“That's enough wizard.”
Another voice unexpectedly intruded on his thoughts, startling him. Thorm hurriedly turned his head in the direction of the voice to find another woman standing there, staring at him. She had a long twisted wooden staff in one hand, though she clearly didn't need it to stand. She was dressed in homespun robes like a pilgrim or a priest, and had an oversized hood pushed back to settle about her shoulders. But the most shocking thing about her was that she was staring at him through burnt out eyes. Blackened skin around eye sockets which had been crudely sewn shut. Yet impossible as it was he knew without doubt that she could see him. He also suspected that she saw far more without her eyes than anyone else would with them. She was eyeless not blind.
She was also standing in the middle of his fire storm, completely unharmed. The flaming wind seeming to blow at her, yet somehow left her untouched. He didn't know how. It wasn't being stopped by an invisible barrier. She didn't have any sort of barrier spell raised. And it wasn’t an illusion of her that he was witnessing as far as he could tell. The fire storm wasn't passing through her. She was solid. And yet the fire and the wind wove around her without affecting her in the slightest. It didn't so much as blow her hair around. How was that possible?
“I said, that's enough!”
She raised her voice a little and though she appeared to do nothing else, his fiery tornado vanished in the blink of an eye. So too did all his barrier spells. In a heartbeat Thorm was left lying across the top of the screaming, pale faced hag, wondering just what had happened. How had this woman managed to undo his spells so effortlessly? Especially when he sensed no magic coming from her. Surely that wasn't possible.
“Now if you could let Matilde go. She will not attack you again. You have my word on that.”
For a few seconds Thorm remained where he was, wondering if she had just said what he thought she had. And also wondering if he should listen to her. He should just let her go?! But then it occurred to him that he wasn't the one in charge anymore. He may have defeated the hag but he couldn't defeat the eyeless woman. She – whoever or whatever she was – had the power to undo his magic. The Seven Sisters alone knew what else she could do. And so even though the hag had tried to kill him, he withdrew his claws and backed away a few steps. He didn't like it. But he knew he had no choice.
Matilde, the supposedly sane hag, got to her feet hurriedly and backed away even more quickly to stand by her companion. There she remained, staring at him with both hatred and fear. Her face was bone white and blood was running down the front of her dress. She also looked to be anything but in control of herself. He could see the rage burning behind her eyes. It made Thorm nervous and as he stared back at them both, he wondered if the woman was about to kill him. And if she tried whether there was anything he could do to protect himself. The woman with the burnt out eyes could take away all his spells with barely a thought. And the hag was far more powerful than him. He'd only defeated her by cunning and speed. Against the two of them he was helpless.
“You should kill him.” Matilde finally spoke, her voice almost a screech as she told her companion what to do. She was spitting with fury. But given that she had trails of blood streaking down her front from Thorm's claws, he thought she had reason to.
“And you should listen to what I tell you to do. I said test him. Not try and kill him.” The woman sighed. “Now be quiet please Matilde. This is not for you.”
Test? Somehow Thorm couldn't believe that what he had just been through was any sort of a test. The hag had tried to kill him! Moreover she would have taken pleasure in it had she succeeded. Why, he didn't know.
“Now you, Wizard.” The eyeless woman stared directly at Thorm. “Who are you?”
“Thorm.” He answered her without thinking, and was shocked beyond measure when what came out of his mouth was his name not a roar.
“Balls! By the Seven Sisters I'm talking!” He heard the words coming out of his mouth and couldn't believe them even as he heard himself saying them. It had been so long
“Praise be!” In spite of everything Thorm found himself completely lost in the wonder of being able to speak again, and he kept thanking the gods and the stars and everything else he could think of. It had been so long since he had heard the sound of his own voice. It wasn't until the hag finally started yelling at him that he was able to concentrate on anything else again. Unfortunately what she was yelling at him was important.
“Thorm?! You’re the shite who hurt my sister!”
The hag suddenly reached for her magic, intending to strike Thorm down where he stood, and he belatedly flinched before starting to call on his own magic, knowing he was too late. But her magic didn't come and neither did his.
The hag turned to her companion with a horrified look on her face. “What have you done?!”
“What needed to be done. Now hush. We have things to discuss.”
“But Potaine –”
“I said hush!” The woman with the burnt out eyes turned back to Thorm. “But my friend is right. She has a right to know how her sister came to be injured. You must answer her.”
Why did the woman – Potaine – care? And why wouldn't his magic come? Those were the only thoughts on Thorm's mind just then. It was a while before he realised he needed to respond. But even then his ability to answer was limited. Just stringing some coherent thoughts together was almost too much. He had suffered too many shocks by then.
“The first hag who tried to murder me?” It had to be her that the eyeless woman meant, he realised. He didn't know any other hags.
“Esmee is not a hag!” The bleeding hag screamed at him.
“The … woman came into my store at the Enforcer's command and tried to kill me. She cast some sort of magic on me that transformed me into this. But she also cast a spell of fire.”
“And?” The woman seemed unimpressed by his answer.
“I'm a gunsmith. My store is full of barrels of gunpowder. That is, it was full of them.” He corrected himself as he remembered what had happened to his store. That he no longer had one. It was now just a pile of rubble. Another of the many troubles of his life.
“Blaggard! Liar! Hold that vile tongue!” Matilde screamed at Thorm, anger flashing in her eyes. “Esmee wouldn't be so stupid. You attacked her! You crippled my sister with your foul magic!”
Foul magic? Thorm was caught completely by surprise by that and he stared at her, wondering if she'd actually said it. A cry of 'foul magic' coming from a hag? And Esmee? The hag had a name? She had been little more than a wild animal! It took him a moment or two to find an answer for her.
“Don't be stupid, Hag!” He shouldn't have said it. He knew that even as he watched her almost seem to bristle like an angry dog. But there was nothing to be done save to carry on. “Of course I didn't attack her. Who would be so stupid? She attacked me. And how in all the hells could I hurt your sister? She was a hundred times more powerful than me. I had no chance against her. At the time the store first exploded I was lying on the floor in the back workroom, hurting, burnt half to death, crippled and slowly twisting into this form, while she sent fire streaming through the store as she tried to burn me alive. I was dying. There was absolutely nothing I could do. I barely managed to crawl to safety after her fire touched one of the barrels of gunpowder and detonated the front of the store.” It was a memory that he suspected would remain with him for the rest of his life.
“Blaggard!” Matilde spat at him in fury.
“I'm not lying.” Thorm tried to remain calm. One of them had to. “It should be obvious that I simply don't have the strength to fight the hag.” Of course the moment the words left his mouth he knew that once again he’d made a mistake in referring to her sister as a hag. But even as he saw Matilde's face wrinkle up in anger, he knew it was too late to take back his words.
“Esmee is not a hag!” She screamed at him. “How dare you! You pile of pig dung! You foetid warthog!”
Matilde stood there yelling at him for quite a while, and Thorm knew he simply had to accept it. There was nothing he could say that was would calm her down. But at least she wasn't hurling spells at him. He just had to wait out the storm.
Eventually her tirade finished and Thorm turned to her companion. She was terrifying with her burnt out eyes and power, but at least she was calm.
“Lady, who are you and how is it that I can speak? It has been so long.” Those were the things that mattered – at least to him.
“I am Potaine Arrowlight, the Oracle of Artana. And of course you can speak in my presence. Everyone can. How else could people seek my Mistress' wisdom if they could not speak to me?”
An oracle! Now there was a term that Thorm hadn't heard in a long time. In fact until she described herself as such he hadn't thought that there were any oracles left. The Eternal King had seen to that. The High Temples and High Priests were long gone, and the Oracles with them. All that was left of them were stories. But if she was an oracle then it suddenly made sense as to why he could speak. One of the stories he had heard was that all who came before an oracle to seek her wisdom could speak to her in whatever tongue the oracle knew. Another part, as he recalled suddenly, was that none could cause harm or cast magic in their presence. That explained a few more things.
Artana. Thorm searched his memory for what he had heard of her. She was said to be the Sister of Light and one of the most powerful of the Seven – at least by her followers. Who knew what her Oracle could do?
But the most important part as he belatedly realised, was that oracles could answer questions. And he had a question!
“Honoured Oracle, I am Thorm Endorson, a humble follower of the Seven Sisters, and I have a question I need answered.”
“A humble follower?” The Oracle smiled unexpectedly, a disturbing expression on the face of woman whose eyes were burnt out. “I think not! You have made your offerings I see. To Zara before the others. But you have not truly believed. Artana sees this in you.”
“My failings are many.” Thorm had to acknowledge that because he knew the Oracle saw the truth in him. And she was right. He made his offerings to the Seven Sisters as was expected. And mostly he made them to Pristia, the Sister of Reason, and to Zara, the Sister of Righteousness. But he had not done so purely out of faith. Mostly he had done it because it was expected. By his family if no one else, and as a family minded man, he had felt obliged to follow his parents’ wishes.
“So I would assume that you want to reclaim your human form.”
“Yes Oracle.” Thorm bowed low to her – as best he could in a body that wasn't really designed for such gestures. But he had to be respectful. Not only because she could answer his questions, but also because oracles were supposed to be like priests. You always had to be respectful to priests.
“I'm sorry. I cannot answer your question. I am not in my temple in communion with my Mistress.”
Thorm's hopes fell when he heard that. And yet he should have expected it he supposed. Things seldom went as he wanted. Especially lately. And she was right. They were nowhere near the High Temple of Artana. There was no such temple anymore. Its remains were a hundred leagues to the east nestled among the Peaks of the Sun according to the stories.
Destroying all the High Temples of the Seven Sisters had been the first thing the Eternal King had done when he had come to power. He accepted that the people worshipped the Seven Sisters. He accepted that their priests moved freely among the people. He would even tolerate the creation of shrines and small temples. But the High Temples had all been destroyed, the high priests banished and none had ever been permitted to return to them. Undoubtedly that had weakened the Oracle.
But still he had had hope before she had taken it away. On the other hand he realised, her words were deceptive. Or at the least confusing. Could she not tell him because she wasn't in her temple? Because her Goddess could not grant her the knowledge? Or was it for another reason? Perhaps she could not because she had been instructed not to tell him? Thorm wasn't sure of the answer. Nor of how to seek clarification. And he still didn't completely trust the woman.
