The creature reared in pain from the lightning. Saarh could feel its heart, hammering so wildly, she thought it would burst. She called down another bolt, which whipped its neck. The bear was knocked aside. The stench of burned flesh and fur filled the air, along with the smell of something acrid that the lightning had left behind.
Its claws were nearly as long as Saarh’s forearm, and she knew if the bear took a swipe at her, it would slay her instantly. Its head was round and large, its mouth filled with wicked, white teeth that flashed and sparkled because of the lightning. The creature’s growl had turned into a whimper of pain, however, as it slumped forward on the mound of earth Saarh had summoned.
Behind it, the smaller bear made a mewling sound, looking to its dead parent, then staring at the goblin. It raised its bloodstained lips and thundered forward. Saarh sent out another ripple of earth, that one uprooting a small tree and sending it into the small bear’s path. It only slowed the creature, but that was enough time for her to call down a final bolt of lightning to slay it.
Above, the sky darkened and lightning flickered in the thick clouds. Saarh’s magic had touched off another storm. As the wet drops started to fall, she shook out her hands, stood, and turned east.
Finding the source of the arcane pulse would have to wait. She needed to return to her tribe and direct them there. No use letting the bear carcasses go to waste; they would feed plenty of her people.
Mudwort sat in the sand, the waves surging in to cover her legs, then the water retreating and taking some of the beach with it. Her hands were thrust down at her sides, fingers buried and senses far from the shore of the New Sea, observing Saarh.
She was upset that Saarh had not found the arcane something that was drawing her westward. But at the same time, she was captivated by the shaman’s ability to pull lightning out of the clouds. Had the shaman not tarried and found the bears, Mudwort might not have learned about such wonderful magic.
Mudwort released the image and tugged her hands free of the sand. The seeing was no longer interesting. She had no inclination to watch Saarh retrieve the goblin tribe and watch them all devour the bears. But she would look in on the shaman later.
Mudwort looked up at the sky. There were thick white clouds up there, just as there had been over the Qualinesti Forest in her vision. Some had gray bellies full of water. She concentrated, her brow wrinkling in a painful-looking expression. She could send her senses so easily into the earth and across time. Could she, she wondered for the first time, also send her senses skyward?
Mudwort had never been taught magic, as she knew the Dark Knight wizard had. She accidentally learned of her arcane ability years earlier, shortly after being captured by the ogres and sold to work in Steel Town. During long hours in the mines, she started imagining that the stone was talking to her. At first she thought she was going mad. The goblins around her thought so too, telling everyone she had a sour mind. But eventually Mudwort discovered that the stone really was speaking, not exactly in the way one goblin talks to another, but conveying emotions and impressions.
She steadily and secretly honed her skills, learning to sense where the richest veins of ore were, discovering places where the stone was either weak or especially strong, and finally discovering how to send her senses through the stone to scry on other places and creatures. Mingling her magic with others, such as Boliver, came later, as did moving the earth to dig holes.
Could she work with the sky the way she worked with the earth?
Finally she felt the cloud swirl around her, though she still sat firmly on the sand. Her head throbbed from the effort; it felt like needles were stabbing at her eyes. New magic always affected her that way. However, there was always pain before the reward. Her spine tightened and her arms locked, and for an instant she couldn’t breathe. But in the same instant, she felt an odd energy, and she wrapped her thoughts around that energy and tugged.
The cloud directly overhead flickered with silvery threads of light.
She tugged harder, grinding her teeth together and straining as if she were chained and trying to break free. She tugged again and again and watched the silvery threads thicken and flash.
Mudwort couldn’t say how long her mind played with the energy in the cloud-hours maybe, as the clouds shifted to the east and she grew increasingly fatigued and achy. Goblins milled around her, curious about she was doing. Some asked her questions, but she couldn’t take time to answer them and risk losing her hold on the new magic. They eventually ambled away, muttering to themselves, some returning later only to leave again.
One of the bolts flashed strongly as it arced down and stopped just short of the water. A boom of thunder followed, and Mudwort fell back, her energy sapped and breath returning. An acridness assailed her nostrils, the same scent she’d registered in her seeing spell after Saarh pulled down a bolt.
It was the scent that had hung in the air in Steel Town when the clouds overhead danced with lightning but failed to follow with rain.
The surf swirled over Mudwort’s legs and chest and retreated. She listened to the surf shushing, the splashing noises of younglings playing in the water, goblin conversations both in the sea and up on the bank, and human words that she couldn’t wholly understand. The latter were being uttered by the priest, who was praying to his insipid god again.
Mudwort pushed herself back into a sitting position just as the surf rushed in again. Her shoulders and upper arms itched, and she saw a white powder on her dry skin and on the little of her tunic that was dry-salt from the sea. Maybe, indeed, the sea was chasing away the last bit of the deathly sickness.
Mudwort stood and waded out to her waist, bracing herself when a small wave came in and tried to knock her over. She was tired of being wet and suspected all the goblins still in the sea were tired of it, save the younglings. But more than her dislike of the sea, she didn’t want to catch the plague. She had too many other things to do, such as learning better how to pull the lightning from the clouds.
It was midafternoon, and there had been no sign of the wizard since he left. She remembered him saying he hoped to be back in the evening, after arranging a way to sail them across the New Sea. She knew Direfang was a little skeptical the wizard would return. But she knew he craved her magic too desperately, so he would come back. He was taking a long time.
She sloshed her way farther out, spotting Direfang standing alone, the water up to his chest. She wouldn’t go out that far, but she’d get closer to him and attract his attention. She’d show him that she could tug lightning from the clouds. She would practice her new spell until either the wizard returned or she became too exhausted.
Then she would learn how to use the wizard’s fire.
Earth magic first. Sky magic soon. Next, fire magic. Her eyes glimmered darkly with the promise of gaining more magic.
No, she decided at the last moment, turning back toward shore; she wouldn’t show Direfang her new magic. That would be her secret and her surprise. Perhaps she would show him later.
GRALLIK’S ARMADA
Twilight had claimed the sky by the time the Clare and the other five ships neared the mouth of the river. They didn’t sail too close to the shore as, even with high tide, the captains were uncertain of the depths. “Lower the longboats,” Gerrold ordered.
There were four on the Clare, and Grallik guessed each would hold twenty or so goblins, which meant several trips would be necessary for that ship alone. Linda’s Grady was the largest of the ships, with a full dozen longboats going over the sides.