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Even though my time with Ferde felt like a lifetime, only seconds had passed. I raised the blowpipe in the Soulstealer’s hand and aimed. First Cahil. Reloading, I shot each Vermin with a Curare-laced dart, ending the fight.
Water wasn’t going to stop the Fire Warper, but with his cohorts neutralized, he conceded the fight. “Next time, my little bat.” The fire died with a hiss and puff of oily smoke.
I returned to my body. My limbs felt as if they weighed a thousand pounds each. Leif helped me to stand on weak legs.
Mrs. Floranne came over. She clutched her apron between her hands and worried at the fabric. “What should we be doing?”
“Send someone to fetch the city guards. We’ll need help transporting the prisoners to the Citadel,” I said.
She sent the stable lad.
“Have they all been hit with Curare?” Leif pointed to the prone figures.
I looked at Ferde. He had collapsed in a heap on the floor. “All but one. I’ve examined his soul, and he won’t be giving us any more trouble.”
“For how long?”
“Forever.”
“Do you think that was wise?” Moon Man asked. His scimitar dripped with blood and gore, and lacerations crisscrossed his chest. “You could have achieved the same result without damaging his mind.”
“I—”
Leif jumped to my defense. “Hold on, Mr. Let’s-exterminate-all-the-Vermin Man. Given the chance you would have decapitated him. Besides, he deserved it. And it doesn’t matter anyway; Roze would have done the same thing to him once he arrived at the Citadel. Yelena just saved time.”
Small darts of fear pricked my heart. Leif’s words repeated in my mind. Roze would have done the same. He was right. Numbness spread throughout my body. I hadn’t even stopped to consider the implications before acting.
Don’t get in my way; I’m the all-powerful Soulfinder. Disgust coursed through me. History books hadn’t been kind to Soulfinders. The vision of Flame Me being burned at the stake rose in my mind. Perhaps the Councilors and Roze were right to fear me. After what I had just done to Ferde, I feared I might turn into a power-hungry despot.
“We need to leave as soon as possible,” Moon Man said.
We had assembled in the inn’s common room again. The city guards had taken Cahil and the others into custody yesterday. We had spent the day explaining to the city officials about Cahil’s group; an afternoon’s worth of discussion to convince them to send the prisoners to the Council. Leif and Marrok would accompany the city guards to the Citadel this morning. I intended to go with Moon Man and Tauno to the Sandseed homeland in the Avibian Plains.
“You’re worried about your clan,” I said.
“Yes. Also I think we need to learn more about the Kirakawa, the Fire Warper and your abilities before we have another run-in with the Vermin.”
“But your clan has forgotten the details. How are you going to learn more?” Leif asked.
“We can consult Gede. He is another Story Weaver, but he is also a descendant of Guyan and may have more information.” Moon Man stole my ginger muffin and ate it.
Although I was curious to know more about how Guyan had reunited the Sandseeds after their civil war with the Efe Warriors, Moon Man’s comments reminded me I needed to try to contact Irys and let her know what had happened.
We finished breakfast and made arrangements to leave. Moon Man and Tauno would get the horses ready while Leif and I tried to communicate with Irys.
We returned to our room. I lay on my bed.
“Do you think you can reach her from this distance?” Leif asked.
“I hope to, but I may need a boost of energy.”
Leif sat on the edge of my bed. Closing my eyes, I drew power to me and projected my awareness toward the Magician’s Keep in the Citadel. I bypassed the chaotic jumble of minds in the city and reached for the wide-open fields marking the eastern border of the Greenblade Clan’s lands. The few livestock I encountered hunched against the damp wind.
Pushing past the barren farmland, I aimed for the white marble walls of the Citadel. But my mind stretched thin as if it had turned to taffy. Leif’s warm hand encompassed mine and a surge of strength pushed my awareness further, but I couldn’t reach those walls. The effort left me drained.
Leif gave my hand a squeeze before he stood. He searched through his pack and before I could ask, he handed me a yellow leaf rolled like a scroll.
“Eat it,” he said. “It’ll give you energy.”
I sniffed. The leaf smelled like spearmint and rosemary. An odd combination. As I crunched the leaf, the bitter mint taste dominated and it shredded like paper in my mouth. “Yuck. What is it?”
“A baka leaf. One of Father’s discoveries.”
After a while, I felt better. We packed our bags and joined Moon Man and Tauno in the stables. The four of us mounted. Leif and Marrok rode together on Rusalka and headed toward the city’s garrison. Marrok would borrow one of the guard’s horses for the trip to the Citadel.
The rest of us went east through Booruby’s crowded streets. Tauno shared Kiki’s saddle with me, and Moon Man rode Garnet.
When we reached the Avibian Plains, the horses broke into their gust-of-wind gait. We traveled until the sun set then halted to rest. Our stopping point was a bleak section of the plains. A few stalks of grass clung to the sand, and no trees or firewood were in sight. Tauno reconnoitered the area as soon as he dismounted.
Moon Man and I tended the horses. Once they were fed, watered and rubbed down, Moon Man removed the oil nuts Leif had given to him. One of my father’s finds, the oil nuts would burn long enough to heat water for stew. The night air smelled damp, hinting at rain.
After arranging the fist-size lumps into a circle, he lit the nuts on fire by striking two stones together to make a spark. I guessed Story Weaver powers didn’t include lighting fires. Interesting.
Tauno returned with a couple rabbits he had shot with his bow and arrow. He skinned the animals and added the meat to the stew.
After dinner I asked Moon Man about Guyan. “What happened between the Efe rulers?”
“Just over two thousand years ago, the Efe Tribe was a peaceful nomadic people, following the cattle and the weather.” Moon Man reclined against Garnet’s saddle, warming to his tale. “Before becoming an official member of the tribe, the young people would make a year-long pilgrimage and bring back a new tale for the tribe. It is said that Hersh was gone many years, and, when he returned, he brought back knowledge of blood magic.
“At first he taught a few Efe magicians, called Warriors, how to boost their powers. Little rites requiring a drop of their own blood. The extra power would dissipate when the task was completed. Then Hersh showed them how to mix their blood with ink and inject it into their skin. Now the power did not dissipate and they became stronger Warriors. Soon they discovered using another’s blood was even more potent. And heart’s blood, taken from the chambers of the heart was incredibly empowering.”
Moon Man shifted his weight and stared into the black sky. “The problem with using blood magic is it becomes addictive. Even though the Efe Warriors were powerful, they wanted still more. They did not kill their own clan members, but sought victims from neighboring clans. No longer content to follow the cattle and forage for food, they stole what they needed from others.
“This abuse continued for a long time. And would have continued if an Efe named Guyan had not stopped the Warriors. He kept his magic pure. Sickened by the horrors he witnessed, Guyan organized a resistance. The details of the battle are lost to time, but the amount of magic pulled from the power blanket was enough to knock over the Daviian Mountains and shred the blanket of power. Guyan organized what was left of the clan, and established the role of Story Weavers, who helped mend the people and the power.” Moon Man yawned.
I compared his story to what I had learned about Sitian history. “Can you really mend the power source? I read a history where a magician had bunched the power arou
nd himself, and it took two hundred years for it to smooth out.”
“Guyan was the first Weaver,” Tauno said. He hadn’t moved a muscle during Moon Man’s story. “Guyan’s incredible powers could mend the power source, a skill not seen in another since.”
Moon Man agreed. “The blanket is not perfect. There are holes, tears and thin patches. There might come a point in time where it will be worn away and magic will be a story of the past.”
A loud pop sounded from the campfire. I jumped. The last of Leif’s oil nuts sputtered and died, leaving the three of us in darkness. Tauno offered to take the first watch as Moon Man and I readied for bed.
I lay awake shivering in my cloak, thinking about the power source. Finding out about those holes called Voids had been a nasty surprise. Alea Daviian had dragged me into an area without power to torture and kill me. Being unable to access my magic, I had felt quite helpless. The fact I had been tied to a cart had reinforced my complete lack of control. Alea erred by not searching me for weapons, and I had used my switchblade to escape.
Alea had also wanted to collect my blood and I wondered if she’d planned to perform the Kirakawa ritual on me. I supposed I wouldn’t ever know. I couldn’t ask a dead woman. Or could I? An image of invisible spirits hovering over me filled my mind and I felt as if a layer of ice coated my skin.
The next morning we ate a cold breakfast of jerked beef and cheese. Moon Man estimated we would reach the Sandseeds’ main camp by late afternoon.
“I tried to reach the elders,” Moon Man said. “But there is a strong barrier of protective magic tenting the encampment. Either my people managed to fight off the Vermin and this new shield is a safeguard against another attack, or the Vermin have taken control and are defending themselves.”
“Let’s hope for the first one,” I said.
We mounted and rode for most of the day, stopping only once to rest the horses. Before we reached the point where we would be visible to the Sandseeds’ camp, we halted. Tauno would scout the camp and report back.
