The Prodigal Mage Part 47

They can turn back now, said Arlin, as Tom heaved for air. They have to. Theyll only slow us down.

Turn back? he said, disbelieving, and waved a hand at all three men. Arlin! For pitys sake, look at them!

I am looking, said Arlin, and took a cautious step closer. They stay here or they turn back, Rafel. Thats it. Thats the choice.

Hate for Arlin was sharp as a stab wound. Fear for Goose stabbed sharper than that. Had this happened to Pinttes expedition? If they kept walking would they find their bodies? Black and bloated and running with pus?

Sink that. Theres got to be something else.

Arlin shrugged. There isnt. Stay and perish with them, Rafel, or guide them back to Lur. Its up to you. But Im not wasting any more time on this.

Letting go of Toms hand, sparing a look for Clyne and Hambly, suffering as horribly, he lurched to his feet.

Youre going to abandon three stricken men? You b.a.s.t.a.r.d, Arlin, you sinkin b.a.s.t.a.r.d. You cant. Thatsthats wicked.

Pale and filthy, stinkingas they all wereArlin smiled. There was no pleasure in it, only a cold and calculated cruelty. Ive crossed the mountains to find Lost Dorana. Ive no interest in mollycoddling three sick Olken who were forced upon me against my will. And if you attempt to stop me, Rafel Power seethed, swift and lethal. Boiling through the tainted air. This isnt Lur. Get in my way and Ill kill you where you stand.

Tom was making strangled noises in his throat. Hosh Clyne and Nib Hambly had started to shake. Remembering Da on the floor of the Weather Chamber, the blood and the convulsions, Rafel had to close his eyes. And then he looked back at Arlin.

He doesnt mean it. He cant.

If you walk away what am I sposed to do? Snap my b.l.o.o.d.y fingers and Rafel? said Arlin, suspicious. What are you doing?

Sweat p.r.i.c.kling, Morgs hate darkly whispering, he ignored poxy Arlin Garrick. Finished shrugging out of his pack, let it and his sword fall to the stone staircase beside Tom, then dropped into a crouch to fumble at its buckles. He didnt dare try to do this from memory. Hed read the incants a number of times since copying them in Das library but he was a long way from trusting himself to know the words and sigils by heart.

I can do this. I have to.

But this was such a poisoned place. Tollin and the others, theyd struggled with their magic here. What if he struggled too? What if the dregs of Morgs blighting magic tainted the spells? Tainted him? What if I have to try.

Tom was weeping now, little sobs of unbearable pain. He and Nib Hambly and Hosh Clynethey didnt have much time. Morgs malevolence was crus.h.i.+ng them. It was trying to crush him. Hed die before he let it.

Rafel! Arlin stepped closer again. What are you Tugging the folded papers out of the pack, Rafel looked up, knowing his eyes were terrible. Knowing rage and power burned in his stare.

Shut up and stand back. I aint got the first sinkin idea if thisll work.

And if it doesnt I really will be a murderer.

But he couldnt think on that. Leave Tom and the others here, send them back across the mountains on their lonesome, or kill them by trying to conjure them home. Whatever he did theyd be just as dead, and hed be to blame. But at least this way the poor b.a.s.t.a.r.ds stood a chance.

Finding the scribbled page he was after, he folded the others and shoved them back to safety in his pack. Then he read the conjuring incants quickly, looking for the one that would best suit his purpose.

Rafel, what are you doing?

He almost laughed, he felt so frighted. Im sending them home, Arlin. Now b.l.o.o.d.y stand back.

Scowling, Arlin retreated three steps. Sending them home? Rafel, have you lost your mind?

Shutting out Arlins nagging voice, shutting out fear and doubt and every scent and sound around him and every hurt in his body, Morgs insidious magic, Rafel tucked the sheet of paper under the toe of his boot rested his left hand on Tom Dimbles lolling head read out loud the words of the incant said Dorana City in a clear voice, holding in his minds eye an image of the Council chamber wrote burning sigils on the curdled air with his right forefinger and waited.

Nowt happened. Nowt happened. He nearly wept with despair. Then the power inside him stirred, hugely and hotly. He felt dizzy. Felt vomiting sick.

A twist of pain a flare of tarnished gold and Tom Dimble disappeared.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE.

Stunned silence. Then Arlin stirred. What was that? Rafel, what did you do?

Fingers trembling, head pounding, that pulse of pain still burning, he retrieved the sheet of scribbled incants. Dont you b.l.o.o.d.y listen, Arlin? He glanced up. Wished there was time to enjoy the look on Lord Garricks face. I sent Tom home. Now shut your trap so I can send Hosh and Nib after him.

Leaving Arlin gaping he climbed down to Hambly and Clyne, tumbled like Deenies childhood dolls on the narrow stony stairs. Almost as still as dolls now. Dangerously close to death. Twice more he recited Durms conjuring spell. Twice more seared flaming sigils into the air. One after the other, the Olken men disappeared.

A heartbeat later he sat down, hard enough to rattle his teeth. Bright with pain and oddly emptied, he put his head between his bent knees. Waited to see if the spasm would pa.s.s, or if hed just pa.s.s out.

I did it. Da, I did it. Even in this filthy place. The spell worked, I could feel it. What does that mean? What else can I do?

A sc.r.a.ping of boot-leather, heels hammering stone steps. Then brutal fingers tangled in his hair. Dragged his head up and back till he was staring into Arlin Garricks furious face.

Where did you get those incants, Rafel? That magic is unknown.

No matter what happened next, this would be worth it. He smiled. Not unknown, Arlin. At least not to Durm.

Shaken, Arlin let go of him. Stepped back and nearly tripped onto his own a.r.s.e. Durm? Thats not possible. Durms library of magic isits His voice died in his throat. I have read the Council library, Rafel. Every book, every scroll. The conjuring incant you just used Aint there, he said, and pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. A bonfire was burning unchecked behind his eyes. For b.l.o.o.d.y good reason, it turns out.

Your father, Arlin whispered. He repressed the knowledge? He dared to decide what the Doranen shall know of their own heritage?

Rafel looked up. For the smallest, swiftest moment felt a twinge of sympathy. Could see his own remembered rage echoed in Arlin. And then he recalled who and what this man was, and fleeting sympathy died.

Durm decided it first, Arlin. Hes the one who kept those magics hidden. Him and every Master Magician since Barls time. Da took their advice, is all. You want to complain? Complain to them.

Arlin flung out his hand. He was shaking with his fury. Give those pages to me. All of them. They are nothing to do with you, Olken.

No, he said, pus.h.i.+ng unsteady to his feet. And Im warning you, Arlintry taking em off me and Ill send you home, too. Only it wont be the Council chamber you wake up in. Try anything mucky on me and I b.l.o.o.d.y swear, Ill drop you smack dab into one of those whirlpools you and your meddling Da helped make.

My father was right, said Arlin, his voice low and choking. Youre an abomination. The midwife shouldve drowned you at birth.

And I shouldve let you drown in Westwailing.

And there it was. The ugly truth. A lifetime of rivalry, resentment and bitterness, of petty cruelties and secret revenges stripped bare.

Arlins fingers were fisting and unfisting, aching to strike out. Rafel Yknow, he added, in a mood to twist the knife, since it seems were upending all our dirty little secrets? On the day I turned eleven I pinched a spell from that book you liked to flash around at school. Remember the one, full of clever Doranen magic? That was my birthday present to me. And every b.l.o.o.d.y day after, Arlin, every b.l.o.o.d.y dayI pinched another one. Right under your nose. And you never knew. He smiled again, wider this time. Nearly laughing at the look on Arlins face. So in case you get any clever ideas, Lord Garrick? Now that Tom and the others are gone? I aint green when it comes to Doranen magic. And that conjuring spell is only the start of what I know.

For a long time, Arlin was silent. Whatever his feelings now, he had them well hidden. Then he stirred. That spell. Can you use it to conjure us to Lost Dorana?

If I could, dont you think I mightve mentioned it already? He shook his head. No, Arlin. It only works if you know where youre going. And since we dont well have to get there the hard way.

Leaving poxy Lord Garrick to stare at thin air, he returned to his abandoned pack. Shoved the scribbled page of incants inside, shrugged it on, his unused sword awkward in its scabbard, then retrieved his walking staff. Stared up the steep stone staircase in front of them.

Well? Are you coming?

Arlin answered by pus.h.i.+ng past him and taking those steep stone steps two at a time. Rafel shook his head, and followed.

Let him take the b.l.o.o.d.y lead. I dont care. And Im safer with him in front of me than I am with him behind.

The stone staircase continued down the other side of the mountain. A hairsbreadth from a fatal fall, they took each weathered, rocky step slowly, one at a time. Who had built the staircase, and why, Rafel couldnt imagine. Didnt care. It meant thered been people here once. Barl willing, theyd find them. Barl willing, theyd find Goose and the others, too. Alive.

Cause if they aint But he couldnt think on that. He had enough trouble to fight without thinking on Goose dead, with Arlin for company and the sickening remains of Morgs magic sullen in his blood. And in these new lands. It was a puzzle, why Tom and the others had fallen to it and he hadnt. Arlin was mostly all right. Cause he was Doranen? Was that the key? And was it his own Doranen magic that saved him? He thought it must be.

So I guess that makes me lucky, Da. b.l.o.o.d.y lucky I got you for my father.

Of course, that didnt solve the biggest puzzle of all: how it was he and Da could do Doranen magic in the first place. With Da hating his magic, theyd never talked on it. Probly now they never would. Unless he and Arlin managed to stumble across Lost Dorana. Could be hed find his answers there.

If it even exists. If this aint a b.l.o.o.d.y great waste of time and our lives.

At last they reached the bottom of the stone staircase, without mishap. Took a moment to catch their breaths, get their bearings. Stretching before them, a wide expanse of open country. No trees. No animals. No dwellings, or even ruins. Everything was silent and still. Shadowed in the distance, at the furthest limits of sight, a vague hint of something.

Arlin pointed. There.

I agree.

And I could care less if you agree or not.

Arlin Sighing, Rafel looked at him. Like it or not were in this together. Like it or not we need to trust each other, cause Trust each other?

He watched Arlin stamp a few paces, then spin round to confront him. Beneath the dirt and sweat and stubbled beard, the Doranens face was livid.

Thats right, Arlin, he said quickly. Trust. Which aint got a sinkin thing to do with like. I dont b.l.o.o.d.y like you and you dont like me. But this aint Lur, where that doesnt matter. Barl alone knows what well run into out here. Could be therell come a time when Im the only thing standing between you and a grisly death.

Arlin laughed. And you expect me to believe youll stay standing between us?

Yes.

Prove it, said Arlin, eyes glittering. Give me those spells you stole.

b.a.s.t.a.r.d. He shook his head. I cant.

The anger died out of Arlins face, leaving it cold and white. Fend for yourself, Rafel. From this point I travel alone. Follow me? Hinder me? Trust this. Ill make you sorry.

Almost, almost, he let Arlin walk away. Let the poxy s.h.i.+t go and if he died, good riddance. But he couldnt. He needed to find Lost Dorana, and to find Lost Dorana he needed Lord b.l.o.o.d.y Garrick.

One day Im going to choke on needing him.

All right! he shouted. Arlin, all right! Ill show you!

Arlin slowed. Stopped. Didnt turn round. Stifling a groan, because he was so tired, so ill-at-ease, Rafel forced himself into a jog-trot until he caught up.

Ill show you, he said again, as Arlin stared at him in hostile silence. I will. But not now. Tonight. When we make camp, wherever we make camp. Ill show you then.

Arlin started walking. Groaning again, Rafel followed.

They trudged for hours across the greyish-green, unwholesome turf. Even in the thin, unclouded suns.h.i.+ne the air felt dark and dangerous. Smelled wrong. These lands were oppressive, steeped and soaked in the most perverse of magics.

Arlin glanced sideways at Rafel, walking two good arms length distant. As much as he wanted to disbelieve the Olken, to disbelieve he had some special connection to the earth, it couldnt be denied the man looked unwell. There was something more at work in him than mere weariness from their arduous crossing of the mountains.

Hes right. This place is poisoned. And while I can taste it, while it gripes in my belly, it isnt eating at me. Not like it eats at him.

If this was anyone else, even any other Olken, he might feel something. Feel sympathy. Offer help. But this was Ashers son, the great Rodyn Garricks murderer, and a thief besides. Remembering Rafels mocking smile, he felt his belly gripe tighter.

For years, he stole from me. Made a fool of me. I will punish him for that. Perhaps not today, or even tomorrow. But I will have my vengeance. When I no longer need him, I will make him pay.

Stolen magics.

If he let himself, hed still be reeling from the shock of those three conjurations. Three living, breathing men banished home by magic. By Rafel.

What else does he know? What else did Durm hide from us that Ashers son can do and I cant?

Hed grown up on tales of fantastic Doranen magics. Fallen asleep to his fathers railings against Barl and her betrayals, to his lamenting the loss of their heritage because shed been weak and afraid. If Father and Ain Freidin hadnt perished, perhaps theyd have discovered what Barl had thrown away. And then Ain would have taught him those magics and he would have become the greatest mage in Lur.

And Ain would have smiled at him.

Arlin? said Rafel, slowing. What is it?

Theyd not spoken a word since starting across this wasteland. Barely looked at each other, each pretending they walked alone. And now here was Rafel, genuine concern in his voice. How much did it gall him, that Ashers son could sense his disquiet?

Nothing.

Shading his eyes, Rafel stared ahead. After so many hours steady progress they at last were close enough to make sense of the smudged shadows theyd glimpsed from the stone staircase.

I can feel it too. I think its a village. Likely the same village Tollin found. The Olken s.h.i.+vered. It feels bad, doesnt it?

Yes, it felt bad, but he wasnt about to admit it. Wasnt about to do or say anything to give Rafel the impression they had even that much in common.

I wonder if well find Fernel Pintte there. And the others, Rafel added. Sarle Baden. Goose.

Thered been not a sign of them yet. If they did find their missing men in the village, most likely it would be as rotting corpses. Their message to the Council had been discouraging, at best. He couldnt find it in him to grieve. Baden alive would only be an obstacle. His blind determination to steal Fathers dreams proved that.

The day was dying, sliding towards twilight, but if they picked up their pace they should reach the village before dark. Never mind his exhaustion, hed happily run the rest of the way. It was hard to think beyond the promised chance to look at Durms spells.

We should pick up our pace, said Rafel, glancing at the sky. Nights coming, and Id rather not be out in the open when it does. For all we know there are creatures here who shun the light, and feast in the dark.

What a charming thought.

He started walking again, leaving Rafel to follow or stay behind or drop dead. After a few minutes he broke into a shuffling jog. When his chest hurt too much to breathe comfortably, he slowed. Walked until his breathing eased, then shuffle-jogged some more. Walk, jog, walk, jog. Rafel kept up with him. The b.a.s.t.a.r.d was nothing if not stubborn.