“So, the people supporting him there will be an advance group. Spies, if you will.”
“Exactly,” Elizabeth said. “At least, that is my hope.”
Will spoke with reluctance and controlled excitement, “Forgive me for not realizing we were sailing into a trap. As a military leader, I have failed in my primary duty to prevent Princess Elizabeth from entering danger. Now, I believe protecting Kendra and Anna will best protect my princess. I’ll accompany them to Landor.”
“I didn’t expect that,” Elizabeth replied.
Will said, “The greater danger to you and your mission for Dire lies in Landor. That is where I should be.”
I watched the shifting in the conversation and the plans devised which were like the sands in the desert. From one moment to another, they were never exactly the same. Elizabeth, in her new role, didn’t order everyone to their tasks. She gave a vague outline and modified things as everyone made suggestions.
Even Captain made a few. He’d turned the boat in the direction of Landor again, but had eased off on the sails so we would arrive after dark. He added, “I heard mention of Landor City earlier. There is no city to speak of. What is to se seen there spreads out from a fortification constructed on a stone outcrop high above the seaport. It is a vast defensive castle more than a city.”
Will asked, “Most residents live within the walls.”
“That’s true enough,” Captain said. “These days, there’s a fair amount living outside because the population outgrew the walls. There are docks and a shipyard or two.”
Elizabeth said, “Both Landor and Malawi are ruled by kings. Fairbanks too, but mostly it is small family farms on marshy land with interconnected lakes, small rivers, and streams. There are sayings about you can’t go anywhere in Fairbanks without getting your feet wet.”
While they talked, I filled the canteens. It was a task that pleased me. Easy to do and helped us all. The water that seemed to flow from my fingertip was cool, tasted good, and was clear. It also didn’t make us ill. Drinking water normally was like gambling with experienced cheaters. You might get away with it once, twice, or even three times, but sooner rather than later, you would cramp at the very least. From there, it could be days in an outhouse or even death.
Water is a carrier of a hundred sicknesses. Bad water kills. That’s why we add a fair measure of wine to it. Drinking water treated with wine seldom makes people sick. Or we drank beer or ale.
While the plans were discussed, dissected, and adjusted, I played with my magic, stretching my abilities, trying new things. Ahead of the boat, I made a small rainstorm the size of a small ship and then reduced it in size by half. My eyes watched it as I shrank it more, forcing it down to a few steps across and no taller than my waist. It resisted going smaller. I insisted.
I held it in place, just off the bow, and gathered more magic and compressed it again. It was now knee high and one large step from side to side. But that wasn’t enough. I held it in place with one part of my mind and used another to gather lightning from the air around us. It was mostly gathered in the dry sail, hidden in the cracks and seams.
I moved it to the tiny cloud and forced it to gather until like a kernel of dried corn, it popped. The difference was that my tiny cloud exploded in a sound that forced my hands over my ears. The surface of the water vaporized in a column of steam, and my raincloud was gone.
Six people in the boat looked at me. I shrugged and said, “Just experimenting.”
“Sinking this boat with your experiments is not a good idea,” Anna said.
“Can you swim?” I asked.
She curled one corner of her lip. “How far?”
Everyone laughed at her answer but me. I suddenly thought of the Slave-Master and how he knew more of magic than me. Not how to do it, but how to make use of those who did. It seemed everyone knew more than me. I sorely needed a teacher before I put a hole in our boat, and we sank.
I reviewed what I’d heard or witnessed other mages do. Storms, for certain. Lightning as weapons. But also, fire. Fast-travel between Waystones. They made arrows either hit or miss targets, and they moved about in daylight without being seen.
A pattern of sorts formed in my mind. Mages, who always seemed so composed had powers used for war. Were their powers intended for war or had mages modified them or only used magic for that purpose?
That was an interesting question. Magic could be used for good. A rainstorm over an area with crops that needed water was a simple example. We were on a fishing boat. A use of magic might fill the nets. Information about an illness might be spread to other kingdoms and a cure returned. I found the list of magic for good endless. Was it always used for evil?
I didn’t know. What I began to see was that the mages I was familiar with were always in the company of the powerful, the generals, the kings, and queens. Their magic was used to enhance that power—and it seemed that the mere threat of magic was all that was required most of the time. Who in their right mind would fight against it? I chuckled over that thought.
Thinking back, I remembered an incident. I’d been on one of the high ramparts at Crestfallen looking to the west where the mountains stood. A black wall of clouds approached. I turned to go to my quarters when I noted a mage lurking near a window. He also looked to the west. On my way, I took to the back stairs and as I passed an alcove, the same mage was telling a Royal in hushed tones that he would call up a storm.
“Call up a storm,” those were his exact words. Sure enough, the very storm I’d seen building in the distance arrived later that day. Crops were destroyed by the flooding. I could have predicted it. The mage may have enhanced the storm—or he may have done nothing.
Maybe mages were not as powerful as generally believed. Maybe they claimed natural occurrences as their own creations. That storm I’d seen might have been a natural phenomenon, or perhaps it was enhanced by that mage, or he may have created the entire thing. Not always, but there were times they could lie and who could cry foul? Especially if they claimed responsibility after the occurrence.
That was the easy way to do magic. Take credit after people were convinced you could. A tree might fall across a road. A mage who had nothing to do with it might apologize for felling the tree accidentally. It would be so easy to convince most people.
While that might be true of some, I’d seen, felt, and fought the storm that held us from sailing to Dagger. That magic had been real. That was the creation of the mages on the ships Kendra’s dragon sunk.
Or was it? Could the mages have been props for the Young Mage? Actors playing a role? The storm could have been created by the Young Mage who remained in Kaon, the only mage I knew who controlled real power to perform magic that powerful.
It seemed everything I knew needed to be reevaluated. I trusted nothing. Not even things seen with my own eyes. My hand reached out and drew the sword from my scabbard. It flashed in the cloudless air.
Instead of just looking at it with admiration, I used a thread of magic to reach out and contact the tip. A tiny flame ignited there. I snuffed it and used a tendril, a soft and inquiring link to begin at the tip and slowly move along the cutting edge until I reached the guard.
My magic flowed up the handle to the pommel. There were no stores of power inside, such as Essence from a dragon. No source of power in it at all.
If that was true, how had the sword sung when in range of the other of the pair? Just as Prince Angle’s had sung back. There must be some sort of power behind all physical reaction. I probed harder.