A Taste of Magic Page 8

  “Dazon?” The word was a croak escaping my trembling lips. “Dazon!”

  The warmblood I’d considered my closest companion lay on the ground, unmoving. Foam was thick around his lips. Alysen hovered over him, looking at his still form, looking up at me.

  “Eri,” she mouthed. It was a plea.

  “Dazon!” Now I said my companion’s name in anger. His chest didn’t rise and fall. His eyes were fixed. He was dead, slain by Grazti’s foul magic. I dropped to a crouch and spun, snatching up my knives in my sweat-slippery fingers. “Thrice-damned beast!”

  Gratzi kept cackling and shaking its head, opened its beak and emitted a sharp barking sound. The pain struck above my eye with an even greater intensity, rooting me to the spot. The bird-creature edged back, staying just out of reach, gazed up into my eyes, and held them tight like they were caught in a trap.

  “Fire Stones,” it said. The voice dripped with malevolence. “Place of Fire Stones. Now.”

  My lips trembled, not from fear, though I should have been feeling that. They trembled in rage and in grief. In the passing of a few moments, this thing had murdered my longtime companion, my prized gift from Bastien.

  Grazti had demonstrated that I was but a puppet, and if I didn’t comply with the evil creature’s every demand, I would continue to lose things … perhaps even Alysen.

  If I stayed my hand and escorted Grazti to the Fire Stones, would the little beast let us go? Or having served our purpose, would we just end up like Dazon? I thrust my knives into their sheaths and turned back toward Alysen and the horses. She watched me, her face unreadable.

  The little bird-creature would not keep me in thrall much longer.

  I wanted to bury Dazon, but I hadn’t the tools to dig a hole deep enough. And I doubted Grazti would grant me the time anyway.

  “Se hala yorma se hala roo,” I whispered as I approached Dazon. It was a prayer I’d heard Bastien say over his living horses. “Se hala neda hala roo. De-orma hala deral roo. Se hala roo.”

  The prayer was longer and more involved, and I wished I had time for it, all of the words meant to bless horses on a journey. I blessed Dazon on his journey to wherever the spirits of animals dwelled beyond this world. And I prayed that when my time here was ended I would see Dazon again.

  “Fire Stones. Place of Fire Stones.”

  “I know,” I spat to Grazti. “Now.” I bent and brushed Dazon’s neck and I slipped off his bridle, wanting some remembrance with me.

  Replacing the cob’s bridle with Dazon’s, I arranged packs on the back of the fell and the cob, putting most of them on the cob. I took the saddle off the draft, dropped it on the trail next to Dazon’s still form, and then swatted the draft on the rump. The horse ran to the east, and I felt a stab of pain above my eye, punishment for releasing one of the horses.

  I didn’t know if the draft would survive. There looked to be enough grasses and wildflowers to eat. But there might also be predators, such as wolves. Still, I didn’t want to keep him with us, one more horse Grazti could slay to punish me or to keep me under its little clawed thumb. I doubted the bird-beast would kill either the cob or the fell … at least not until we reached the Fire Stones.

  12

  Grazti didn’t sleep that night—not unless it managed to nap in the few fitful times I dozed. Alysen slept well, though, and I was grateful for it. Strong in the wyse, she’d need to stay alert for a chance to go against the beast.

  “What is so special about this place of Fire Stones?” I’m not sure why I bothered speaking to the bird-beast, maybe to occupy it or distract it. Maybe just to learn anything about it or learn something about where it was leading us.

  Grazti glared at me, clawed hands twitching.

  “Why do you need us to take you there?”

  “Faster,” it said after a few moments of silence. “Long legs and horses, you are faster.”

  “And getting there quickly is important, isn’t it?”

  Its eyes narrowed and darkened, and a shiver passed down my back.

  “Because you need magic for some horrid purpose, and you couldn’t pull the magic from the fen.”

  It snarled, spittle lining the edges of its beak. “No,” it admitted. “That magic … that wood-magic is unreachable.”

  I shifted slightly, feeling an ache starting in my head. “How did you get there, Grazti, to those old woods?”

  The pain lessened, thankfully. I waited for an answer but did not receive one.

  “Did you find someone to take you to the woods? Just like Alysen and I are taking you to this place of Fire Stones?”

  The creature’s eyes widened and glimmered, and I knew it wasn’t going to answer that question. Yet, I wanted to know. Perhaps I would press it again later.

  “How did you know about the magic in the old woods?” I tried. “And the magic in this place of Fire Stones?”

  The pain returned to the spot above my right eye, sharp, as if a piece of metal were being twisted into my head.

  The bird-beast looked away from me, and I glanced at Alysen. I hated to think it might be up to Alysen to strike at Grazti. But the damnable creature continued to force intense headaches on me, making it almost impossible to use my wyse-sense, and very difficult even to think.

  We started again at first light, the cob and fell pony making wuffling noises that I knew meant they were still tired, having had little rest last night and getting little chance to graze and drink.

  I thought of Dazon as I absently stroked the mane of the cob. Crust was this horse’s name. From a colt, Bastien had trained her and hand-fed her. He said her favorite treat was bread crusts, and so he named her after that. I didn’t know why he’d called my horse Dazon, or if the word meant anything in particular. I’d never thought to ask him, and now I was sorrowful for that. Tears welled in my eyes. I was sad for so many things. In the course of but a handful of days I’d lost so many people I’d cared about, and Dazon. I had no one left, and I’d entrusted myself with the care of a girl that at the moment I could not save.

  “Eri?” Alysen studied me. “What’s wrong?”

  “Other than this?” I gestured with a hand to indicate Grazti and the land we traveled across. Then I wiped at the tears with my fingers. “Everything’s wrong, Alysen.” The admonition surprised me; I’d not intended to open up to the girl.

  “It’s Dazon, isn’t it?”

  I twined my fingers in the cob’s mane, closed my eyes briefly, and nodded.

  “He was a friend, Alysen.”

  “And you don’t have many of those, do you, Eri?”

  I didn’t answer that question.

  We stopped briefly when the sun was directly overhead, as a narrow, shallow creek crawled across our path and gave us all a chance to drink our fill. The land was even drier here, the creek half as wide as its banks indicated it should be. The ground beyond it felt parched. The drought was unusual for this time of the spring, though I had to admit I’d not been this far north before and so couldn’t tell if things were amiss.

  I saw no concentration of trees, just lone trees here and there, tall and scraggly. A few white oaks stretched tall to the east, a couple of poplars and stringy barks grew to the north and west. The terrain was for the most part flat, but that changed deep into the afternoon when the land dropped away to form a valley.

  The walls were steep, and navigating the side to reach the bottom presented a treacherous problem. I knew I would have had an easier time with Dazon, more sure-footed than Crust. Too, Dazon had been an extension of me. I’d not ridden the cob before this regrettable trip.

  I had pictured valleys being verdant and beautiful; so Bastien had described the one he’d traveled through while in his early years with the Moonsons. He’d mentioned a waterfall and a wide river, mist rising above both and painting his face with a faint sheen of cool water. This place was the opposite, all rocks and hard-packed clay, with only rare tufts of grass to break the monotonous red-brown expanse. There was a dry ri
verbed at the bottom—the wide, deep cracks looking like an ugly pattern from a disturbed spiderweb.

  “Close,” Grazti announced with a hiss. “Close place of Fire Stones.” The malevolent creature’s eyes glimmered with anticipation.

  Grazti’s report sent mixed emotions dancing in my mind. I wanted this business with the bird-beast to be done. But I also worried what would happen once we reached its destination.

  “Grazti, how came you to be in those woods? The ones with the grabbing vines?” I’d asked it before and was not satisfied that the creature had not answered. I knew someone had taken the creature there. But who? And what had happened to them afterward? If Grazti had come from this place called the Fire Stones, it would have been a long, onerous journey to the woods, given the beast’s stubby back legs. “And how did you know to go there for magic?”

  Grazti shrugged what passed for its shoulders.

  “What … exactly … did you want in the woods?”

  The creature paused, then looked over a shoulder at me, eyes narrowing to needle-fine. “Obvious,” it said after a moment, its voice a rasp as dry as the valley. “Power.”

  “And when the forest wouldn’t let you through? To get its power? When we rescued you?”

  “Gave up forest power,” Grazti replied evenly. “Gave up hateful forest. Go place of Fire Stones. Place of Fire Stones welcome us.”

  “Where are you from, Grazti? This place of Fire Stones?”

  “Long time caught forest with grabbing vines. Saved me you did. Long, long time caught.” Grazti cackled and turned back to face the fell pony’s neck, signaling the conversation’s end. “Dead almost. You saved me.”

  Pity, I thought. What a great, great pity we had saved the bird-beast.

  We reached the place of Fire Stones, as Grazti called it, near twilight of the following day. I stood straight beside Crust, craning my neck to work out a kink and trying to ease my stiff back. A trapper and a hunter, I was nevertheless not used to riding so long and for days in a row.

  “This is ugly,” Alysen pronounced. “Except for over there.”

  “Over there” was a pasture that butted up to the western edge of the stone plateau we stood on. It was such a stark contrast, a verdant piece of grassland ending at barren rock, like nature had drawn a line and permitted nothing to grow beyond that point. I wished Bastien could have seen this. I felt certain the woodsman in him would have been compelled to study it.

  The cob and the fell pony quickly made their way to the middle of the pasture, and I took off their saddles and packs. Then I returned to the hardscrabble ground. I saw features here that resembled the cave Grazti had led us to, where the death-eaters had attacked. The stone was of the same kind, and the pillars that had marked that cave entrance—their twins were arranged everywhere across this acrid expanse of stone. Gray ash lay in depressions that might have been an inch deep or several feet—I hoped I would not need to find out. Dull red streaks stretched to the horizon in places, a few traveling up the bases of some of the pillars and looking like leaping flames. The closer I stared at these pillars, the more certain I became that they were columns of fire, glimmering as the stars began to wink into view.

  Crust and the fell grazed in the pasture, the greenery standing unusually high for this early in the season. When the cob got her fill, she dropped on the ground and started rolling. Perhaps she was trying to assure herself that the grass really existed, wanted her whole body to testify to it. Scents of sap, crushed leaves, and wildflower blossoms reached me. For an instant, things seemed not so bad.

  Grazti squatted not too far from the horses. The creature’s hands and bill were in constant movement, catching insects fleeing the disturbance Crust had caused by her motions. By all signs, the bird-creature was having rich hunting. To the east, the stone sloped upward, cut halfway through with crevices. Water bubbled out of one, running down the rock face—it wasn’t the waterfall I’d envisioned from Bastien’s description of his valley. But the water was fresh, a ribbon that snaked across the plateau and into the pasture, forming a pool and then continuing and disappearing over a cliff.

  I continued to scrutinize the land, deciding I disagreed with Alysen. This wasn’t ugly at all. Stark, but the colors in the stone, even in the dusk of twilight, were attractive and distracting. There was a sense of healing and peace here, and I carefully stuck out my tongue and drew upon my wyse-sense.

  I tasted the sweat of the horses and the freshness of the grass Crust rolled in. I tasted a sweetness in the air that I hadn’t smelled since the day I’d caught the curl-horns. I sensed uncertainty in Alysen, and knew that feeling echoed in my own heart. I sensed a great glee, this coming from Grazti; the little beast was obviously pleased we’d reached its destination and could feast.

  Deeper, I sensed a strong pulse of energy. It flowed down the slope with the springwater and spread out under the plateau. As I concentrated, my heart started to beat in time with it. I felt it flow under my feet and up into the columns, feeding the fire they appeared to be.

  I felt stronger, even rested, though I hadn’t slept in more than two days. The pain that had lived above my right eye melted. There was as much power in this piece of ground as there was in the woods near the Nanoo’s fen. I was leeching some of that power, and I knew that Grazti intended to do the same … after the creature finished its insect banquet.

  I heard stone shifting, grating against stone, and I saw one of the columns turn, the red flame-streaks crackling and hissing. I smelled something burning, and when I stared, I saw a single wisp of smoke rising from the closest column. Rocks burned?

  “Fire Stones,” Grazti said. It had finished eating and had silently slipped near me and poked my leg with a claw. “Grazti at place of Fire Stones.”

  “So you don’t need us any longer.” I put strength behind the words, and I gestured to the horses. “We will be leaving you now, Grazti.” I took a step toward the pasture and stopped, every muscle in my body rigid and unmoving.

  “Longer,” Grazti purred. “Stay. Not go.” The bird-beast crept around in front of me, far enough so it didn’t have to crane its feathered neck much to look up into my face. “Never go. Never ever ever ever go.”

  I heard the grating sound again of stone rubbing against stone. My wyse-sense was so overly strong here that without trying I could still smell something burning and pick up the hint of smoke, still smell the sweat on the horses and hear Crust rolling in the grass and nickering happily, hear the fell drinking at the stream. I still felt the energy pulsing through the ground and into me, and I knew into Grazti as well.

  I thought I saw miniature bolts of lightning flicker between its fingertips. But I must have been mistaken, as such magic did not exist in the world. Or did it? I tried to move, tried to pull the energy from the earth and into me at a faster rate. My legs tingled as if they were going numb, and I discovered I could move my hands and wrists. I breathed deep, thinking the very air might be tinged with wyse-energy.

  Grazti was doing the same, and this time when I looked to its fingers I knew I saw miniature lightning bolts flickering. The vile creature grinned at me, a taunt, cocked its head and leaned forward, touching its claws to the stone.

  “Never ever ever,” Grazti hissed. “Never ever ever ever.”

  Then its claws sunk into the rock as if the stone were mud. Ripples of dark red radiated, interrupting the energy I’d been drinking in. Instantly, the tingling in my limbs disappeared, and I was as stiff as a statue again.

  “Never ever.” Grazti cackled again, this time louder and deeper, an eerie, malicious sound that was hurtful.

  “Never for you!” This came from Alysen.

  I could see her only out of the corner of my eye, as I couldn’t even turn my head. She was between two of the columns, flames writhing up the rocks and flowing like water around her feet. Sweat beaded on her face and plastered her black hair to the sides of her head. So wet, it looked as if she’d been standing in a thunderstorm. Her ey
es … I couldn’t be certain, but I thought some of the miniature strokes of lightning flashed at the edges.

  She’d been drawing on the energy, too, and Grazti had been so preoccupied with me that it had not taken her into account. I truly believed Alysen more magically potent than I, a notion nurtured when she had trapped the fose-bear. It was a notion given even more credence now. The flames flowing around her feet churned away from her, racing like a fire that had found a bed of dry, brittle twigs to gorge on. The waves of flame washed over Grazti at the same time it was working its foul magic against both of us.

  Agony drove deep into my skull above my eye.

  Alysen threw her hands to the sides of her head and screamed.

  But she wasn’t held still like me, and so she fought through the Grazti-induced pain and pushed the fire higher.

  It was Grazti’s turn to scream. I couldn’t see the creature for the flames roiling around it, circling it like the streaks circling the stone columns. So blistering was the fire, the bird-beast could not escape. I smelled burnt flesh, but only briefly. The crackling fire roared and whooshed, blotting out all sound and making me fear if it would engulf me.

  Then suddenly I was free, my legs and arms tingling fiercely, as if every part of me had fallen asleep and protested my motion. I leapt back from the fire, the heat abating only a little. Fire crackled up all the columns now and raced along the sides of the stream. It teased the grass at the edge of the plateau.

  “Alysen, stop!” I whirled to face her, seeing her eyes fixed and flashing. I dashed toward her, jumping a line of fire and darting past a column with flame tendrils that struck out whiplike. “Alysen!”

  Caught by the magic and the power of this place, she stared transfixed.

  “Alysen!”

  She blinked then, and I shouted to her again and again. Then I was on her, shaking her shoulders, gently at first, then harshly. “Alysen, stop the fire!” I turned her so she could see the grassland, the horses rearing nervously and stamping at the ground. In a heartbeat they would bolt, and there was no place for them to escape the flames but over the cliff. “Alysen, listen to me!”