Wild Magic

  Thayet smiled at her and crooked a finger at her son and daughter. “Come talk to me,” she ordered, and they obeyed. Thom went to stand with his father, and Daine sought out Numair.

  “Are you all right?”

  He looked tired and strained. His mouth was tight, as if he were afraid he might say too much if he opened it. He barely managed a smile for her. “I’m scared,” he said quietly.

  She looked up at him. I’m the only one who understands, she thought. If the Lioness were here, he’d’ve said it to her, but she’s not and I am. There’s magic in the air, lots of it, and everyone looks to him for a miracle. Right now he can’t even tell if his magic is the right kind, and he’s afraid.

  She put her hand in his, and he squeezed it tight. “I hate to theorize without information, but I need a working plan,” he told her softly. “As it is, I either hold the spells off the Swoop so the others can function, or I leave the dampeners on them and punch through myself, to fight with what I have. The problem is that as a warrior-mage my talents are limited, and I have no healing magic at all. If Alanna were here, we could work off each other, but—” His face tightened again.

  “That’s it, then,” she said, trying to think aloud as he did. “They lured the Lioness off and put an army between her and us just for that.”

  He nodded.

  “Which means they’ve been watchin’ us all along.” Daine and Numair both jumped when George spoke behind them. “They know we’ve the queen here, and the next two in line for the throne.”

  Daine and Numair looked at each other and chorused, “The Stormwings.”

  That’s why they were spying out the seacoast,” Numair went on. “They were waiting for us to arrive and get settled. I’ll bet they also made sure none of our army or navy was close enough to help.” Something occurred to him, and his eyes lit. “Daine—your magic. How is it?”

  She was surprised he even asked. “It’s the same as ever. You told me, yourself, I couldn’t turn it off.”

  “Wild magic,” Numair breathed. “It’s in everything. No matter how many dampeners they lay on us, you’ll be able to function!”

  Something tugged at the back of her eyes—something ugly and sour. “I can’t send my friends to die,” she warned, but already her attention had shifted. “Bows!” she yelled, getting hers off her back and putting an arrow to the string. “Bows! Stormwing in the air!”

  George shoved Thom down between the wall and the floor of the deck, grabbed the prince and princess and did the same with them. Thayet and Onua had their weapons in hand. The trainees and guards were armed and ready. The baron had drawn his sword and dagger.

  Numair swore so vividly that the children looked at him in awe and delight and added, “The wind’s shifting. They don’t need the fog anymore.”

  “The dampeners?” George asked hopefully.

  The mage shook his head. “Still there. The fog laid them down. Now the spells will stick to all that the fog touched.”

  Within minutes the fog was gone, and the world around them was lit by a midmorning sun. Daine gasped at the scene that lay before them. A fleet lay in the cove: five long boats, or galleys, rowed by chained men belowdecks, and seven smaller vessels, all bristling with warriors and their arms. Behind them lay four barges, huge, flat-bottomed boats with no apparent way to move. Large wooden structures sat in the middle of each, things that were wood, rawhide, and rope knit together. Each barge carried a stock of round stone balls, and a complement of barrels. Around their rims, and around the weird structures, were huge bags of sand.

  “Such a big siege for such a little castle,” Thayet murmured. “Where could they have sailed from?”

  “Copper Isles,” George replied quietly. “They’re Carthak’s allies now.”

  “What are the big, flat ones?” Daine asked, searching the air for the Stormwing she had felt.

  The queen raised a spyglass to her eye. “War barges—the terror of the Carthaki navy.” She offered the glass so Daine could see clearly. “The things in the middle are catapults. Each barge is counterbalanced with magic and ballast so the catapults can hurl stone balls or liquid fire. They can pound the walls of a place like this to rubble in the space of a day.”

  “So this emperor has declared war?” Daine asked. She had found the Stormwing, high above. He stooped, dropping onto the deck of the largest of the galleys, laughing as humans scrambled away from him.

  “No Carthaki flags,” Onua said. “This isn’t official.”

  Daine stared at her. “Surely that makes no difference. A flag’s only a bit of cloth, after all.”

  “A war’s not a war until an official declaration is made and the armies march under flags.” Onua pursed her mouth cynically. “None of those men or our friends in the woods are wearing uniforms, either.”

  “And he can do that?” Daine asked, outraged. “It’s not a war till this emperor fellow says it is?”

  “Or until His Majesty does,” Numair remarked.

  Onua said, “We can’t expect any help from our navy?”

  “A week ago Scanran wolf-boats hit all along the north coast,” George told them. “Most of the navy is up there, or on our part of the Inland Sea.”

  “How nice,” Prince Roald muttered.

  “Heads up, darlin’s,” George said. “I think we’re about to hear terms.” The Stormwing was taking flight again, an elegant white flag in one claw and something much smaller in the other.

  “This is not good.” Numair too had a spyglass. “See the red robes at the bow of each ship? And there are at least four yellow robes per barge?” He lowered his glass. “A scarlet robe from the university in Carthak means you have your mastery—the same level as the Mithran black-and-gold robe. University yellow robes are adepts. They brought the barges here, and their spells keep them afloat and working.”

  “What robe are you?” Daine asked, watching the Stormwing’s approach.

  “None,” he replied. “Ever put one of those things on? They’re hot.”

  “He’s a black robe,” Onua said, hands tight on her bow as she watched the monster. “There are only seven of them in the world.”

  The Stormwing was a hundred feet away.

  “Bows,” Thayet said quietly. In the same movement she and all the archers on the deck raised their weapons, sighting on the messenger.

  He hovered in the air before them, smirking. “Now, is that nice?”

  Daine clenched her teeth. This was the one who’d come between her and her ma. This close, she could put an arrow clean through him.

  The creature dropped a scroll onto the stone between Thayet and George. The queen didn’t blink; it was the baron who picked it up and opened it. “‘To Queen Thayet of Tortall and Baron George Cooper of Pirate’s Swoop, from the Lord of the Free Corsairs, Mahil Eddace, greetings. By virtue of superior numbers and armament, I claim the castle, village, point, and waters of Pirate’s Swoop for the League of Free Corsairs. Should you prove obdurate—’”

  “Obdurate?” Daine whispered without taking her eyes from her target.

  “Stubborn,” supplied Numair.

  George continued to read, “‘—I shall have no choice but to reduce the castle, enslave the survivors, kill all beasts, and sow its fields with salt. You have one chance only to avoid death, capture, or enslavement: surrender to me the person and effects of Thayet of Tortall and her children, Prince Roald and Princess Kalasin. You have what remains of this day and tonight to reflect. If the three persons named are not given over to us by such time as the dawn sun will clear the horizon, we will commence bombardment by catapult. If you wish to signify acceptance of these terms, you may do so by runnin’ up three white pennants.’” Calmly he rolled the message up again, and as calmly ripped it to pieces and tossed them over the wall.

  “Looks like Ozorne decided what advantage he needs against the king,” muttered Onua.

  “There was a time when your folk were no one’s errand boys,” the baron told the Storm
wing. His voice was even and almost friendly.

  “We don’t mind helping out,” the Stormwing told him, baring his filthy teeth in a grin. “In a good cause, you understand.” He looked at Daine. “Hello, pink pig. Zhaneh Bitterclaws will be here to see you soon.” He nodded at Onua. “Both of you.” Turning back to George and Thayet, he said, “Well? Your answer?”

  The baron spat on the stone near his feet. “Get out, before I let them make you into a pin cushion.”

  The Stormwing’s giggle was high and grating. “Oh, good. We hoped you’d say that.” He pumped his wings, pulling away from them fast.

  A hunter’s screech split the air, and Daine’s osprey friend shot past the humans. He tangled his feet in the monster’s hair and hung on, pecking for the monster’s eyes. The Stormwing shrieked in fury and tried to dislodge the bird from his head, but lacked the arms with which to do it.

  “Daine, call him off,” Numair said, his voice suddenly tight.

  “I didn’t call him on—”

  “Do it!” her friend yelled. Before them gold fire was stretching above the galleys to form a great square, anchored by the red robes below.

  “Come back,” Daine yelled, putting her will behind it. “It’s not worth it, come back!” Something was pounding through the air, making her ears hurt.

  The osprey broke off the attack and returned. Onua grabbed the children and hustled them off the deck.

  I almost had his eyes, the bird complained. Just one more wingbeat—

  The gold fire in the square exploded, knocking everyone down. Like a nightmare, a horde of Stormwings blasted through, led by Zhaneh Bitterclaws. They filled the air with a degree of stench and evil that had not been felt in the world in four centuries. To that they added pure fear in a weight that crushed the humans before them. Something—something huge and red in color—almost seemed to shove the gigantic flock through the gate, but it vanished. It had only been an impression; Daine was too busy trying to breathe with a full pack of terror on her mind to think about it for more than a second.

  She straightened: an act of will that took all the courage she had. At the palace she’d had a taste of what a flock of the monsters could be like, but it was nothing like this. She brought up her longbow. At the edge of her vision she saw Numair, then the baron, struggle to their feet. She smiled, blinked the sweat from her eyes, and loosed her arrow.

  The messenger had chosen to attack with the flock. As she suspected, her arrow went clean through him. Before he had struck the rocks below she had another arrow on the string and loosed. It flew in a volley as the other humans released their arrows.

  Battle raged. Archers, Daine included, fired bolt after bolt, making sure of the target before they loosed. Numair made a hard decision fast: sitting against the wall, where he’d trip no one up, he lifted the dampener spells. The people with lesser Gifts, including those who knew fire- and war-spells, got to work. Onua quickly drew a protective circle around the mage to hide him from the Stormwings.

  Daine fought two wars. Her animal friends wanted to rescue her, but she refused to let them. She soon learned that keeping her will on so many species, in the woods, the castle, and the air, was impossible. Pain shot through her head: twice she lost control of the gulls and ospreys. With triumphant screams the birds leaped into the air to harry the Stormwings. With claws and beaks they attacked, trying to drive the monsters onto the rocks or into each other.

  Tears rolled down Daine’s cheeks. Mechanically she fired as birds fought and died, cut by steel wings or torn to pieces by steel claws and teeth. There was no chance that her power to heal would be pulled from her in this battle as it had been in the marsh: a wound here was death on the rocks below.

  When the Stormwings attacked, so did the land raiders, reinforced by the fleet once the fog lifted. For the rest of the morning and into the long afternoon they tried to bring rams and ladders up to the castle walls, and were driven back.

  Eventually the Stormwings lost interest in the battle and went to feast on the enemy dead outside the walls. They had what they wanted, no matter who won. They left the air over the deck first, not wanting to go on defending themselves against the archers and the birds.

  When the deck had been quiet for a while, George ordered Daine to rest. She found some shade close to Numair and sat, leaning her throbbing head on her updrawn knees. No! she told the animals, who wanted to fight. No, no, no! With her last refusal she tightened her grip, until they gave in.

  “Look at you.” While she’d battled her friends, Miri had come to the deck with Kalasin and one of the maids. All three carried laden trays and wineskins. The fisher-girl came to Daine, frowning. “Your skin’s a nice lobster red. You landlubbers don’t think about reflected glare—” She rubbed a cool salve into Daine’s hot face and arms. “Kally, where’s the tonic?”

  The princess filled a tankard from her wineskin and handed it over.

  “Drink, or you’ll be sick.” Miri put the tankard to Daine’s lips. She took a gulp and choked—it was tomato juice laden with salt and other things. “Drink it all.”

  “Goddess, that’s nasty!” she croaked. She had the Smith-god’s own headache. Her hands throbbed, and her fingers refused to close. The muscles of both arms were screaming. She had never shot so much in her life.

  “Nasty it may be, but it’ll keep you from collapsing on us. Have some more. Maude brewed it up special for you. Only think how her feelings would be hurt if you refused it.”

  She sat up, wincing as her head pounded. Maude?—the old woman in charge of the nursery. “That’s right—she’s a healer, isn’t she?” From her cradle Daine had been taught to do as a healer said. She drew a deep breath and drank what was in the tankard as fast as possible. For a moment her stomach surged and her head screamed; then most of the pain and sickness were gone. “Goddess bless all healers,” Daine whispered. Even her hands had improved a little.

  She sat up, and the maid gave her a bowl of stew and a roll. Daine took them and began to eat as Miri and the servant looked at Numair. “Should you even be out here?” she asked Kally.

  “Onua put a protective circle around this place,” Miri said over her shoulder.

  Daine smiled at Kally, then looked at Miri. “How’s it going?”

  “Not bad.” That came from Numair. He sat with his head tilted back against the wall, his eyes closed, his face pouring sweat. Pillows had been put around his sides to make him comfortable. Someone—a redheaded six-year-old, Daine suspected—had tucked his prize stuffed bear under one of the mage’s big hands. “They can’t breach the walls—can’t even get near them. They’re having a horrible time with the archers. We’re holding our own.

  “Can you drink or eat?” Kally asked. “Maude says you should if it won’t distract you from the spells.”

  He nodded. The girl fetched a cup of water from a nearby barrel and held it to his lips. He drank without opening his eyes. “How are you doing, Your Highness?”

  “Please don’t call me that.” The girl’s voice cracked. “It’s ’cause of me being a princess that all this is happening. It’s my fault and I hate it!”

  Daine rolled to her knees and went to the child. “Here, now—stop that,” she said, patting Kally’s shoulder. The girl turned and buried her head in Daine’s shirt. She was crying, and fighting hard to keep from making any sound. She’s only eight, Daine thought sadly. “You got it all wrong, sweet-ling. Those men would do this no matter who they’re after. They could have asked for Numair, here, who’s in trouble in that Carthak place, or Sarge, that’s a runaway slave. It isn’t ’cause of you or Roald or anybody. You’re just the excuse. If you must blame somebody, blame them Carthaks.”

  “Carthakis,” Numair corrected. He was smiling a little. “Daine’s right, Kalasin. The person who commits an action is the one responsible for it, not the people he commits the action upon.”

  “But they said it was ’cause of Mama and Roald and me.” Kally blew her nose and wiped her face
.

  “So they would.” Daine burned with fury. The Riders, the guards—even she had put herself in spots where a fight might sometimes be the only answer. They all knew the risks. But to twist a little girl’s mind so she blamed herself for the fight—that was horrible. “Evil people say evil things to make good people cry and doubt. Don’t let them get that hold on you. It’s because they’re too cheap to buy food. They druther steal it if they can. That’s really what it’s about.”

  “Kalasin?” Maude was at the stair, calling. “I need you below. There’s healing to be done.”

  Kally sniffed and wiped her face again. “Coming.”

  Daine watched her go. “But she’s only a child.”

  “That child is a strong, natural healer.” Numair hadn’t once opened his eyes. “She’s partly untrained, still, but Maude can talk her through whatever has to be done. How are you managing?”

  Daine looked at him warily. “What d’you mean?”

  “I mean your friends out there must be dying to go after the raiders, and I definitely recall you saying you won’t let them fight. The birds got away from you this morning, didn’t they?”

  Daine clenched her fists and immediately regretted it. “I’m all right.”

  “Liar.” He said it almost with amusement. “Is it a strain?”

  The air was singing to her. “What?” She got to her feet. Where was it coming from? “Numair, do you hear it?”

  “Hear what?”

  It was like the griffins, only different, a singing coming from the north, low and close. It filled her eyes and ears and beat against the sore palms of her hands.

  Onua was with George and Captain Josua, trying to talk Thayet into going below, when she felt her circle of protection on the deck evaporate. “Down!” She pushed the queen to the floor. George and Josua had their swords out as the source of the music came thundering up from below to surge over their heads. Numair was on his feet instantly, his watch over the castle shattered.