A Touch of Magic (28 page)

“Good,” the third man replied. “Shame about the horse. We’ll go over the loot once the rest of the boys get back from finishing off the fop. That shouldn’t take too long.”

That’s got to be Tobsen, Randall thought to himself. I hope he takes plenty with him!

It felt odd for Randall to be rooting for one of the men who had recently held him captive, but the more of the bandits that Tobsen could bring down, the easier it would be for him later.

“Hey Matt, why can’t we pick our share of the loot now?” one of the voices wheedled.

“Don’t you start, Flynn,” said the man Randall recognized as Matt. “If we pick loot now, you know you’ll pick the choicest piece you can, and the others will cry foul. And I am not in the mood for it. Now come away from there before I have to run you through.”

The other man grumbled a bit, but eventually all the voices moved away from the wagon. Randall probably didn’t have much time before the rest of the bandits arrived and he’d be forced to reveal that he was very much alive. As he saw it, he had two choices. He could wait until the bandits came back, and throw himself on their mercy, or he could fight now and have better odds. Randall was fed up with always being at someone else’s mercy, not that he expected to get much mercy out of these men in any case. But he knew how to fight, and he had an ally at his side. Plus, he had one advantage that the caravaners didn’t: magic.

“Hsst! Berry!” he called to his friend as quietly as he could. Berry scampered over close to Randall, and sat with his head cocked slightly to the side.

“Hey, help me find my knife, okay?” Randall asked in a whisper, while slowly sifting through some of the scattered curios. Berry cocked his head to the other side, and then scampered off, poking and sniffing at objects on the floor.

It was impossible for Randall to search in complete silence, and he winced at every boot scrape, clatter, or bump that he made. Each noise seemed to boom in his ears, but the bandits didn’t notice the commotion. Perhaps they were too far away to hear the pair as they rummaged around the wagon.

He glanced over at Berry to see if the imp was having any better luck. He spied the donnan struggling with something caught under a couple of precariously balanced boxes. It was the dagger! With each tug, the boxes on top of the dagger jiggled dangerously.

“Berry, no!” Randall hissed, startling the little imp, and causing it to yank the dagger free as the boxes tumbled to the floor with a loud clatter.

There was no way that the men outside could have missed hearing that! Randall threw himself forward and snatched the knife out of Berry’s hands as cries of alarm and confusion sounded nearby. He clambered out of the wagon as quickly as he could, stumbling over the debris strewn along the floor. As he exited the rear of the wagon, he came face to face with a handful of men running up toward the wagon from a nearby camp. Randall stood his ground, dagger clenched tightly in his fist, as the men came up short just out of fighting reach.

“He was dead!” one of the men cried, struggling to catch his breath. “I checked him myself!”

“Well, he’s got enough blood on him that I can’t say as I blame you for the mistake,” replied a man that Randall recognized as Matt from his voice. The man was short and stocky, with greasy black hair, and a wicked scar running along one side of his chin.

Randall looked down. His tunic
was
soaked in blood, and when he licked his lips, he could taste the tangy fluid on his tongue. He realized that he probably looked horrendous. He looked back up and locked eyes with the leader.

“But his neck was broke!” the first man objected.

“It’s clear that it wasn’t, you idiot,” Matt said to the man, before turning his attention back to Randall. “But if you don’t put that knife down, it will be.”

Randall said nothing.

“Look, I know you’re hurt,” Matt added. “There’s no way you can fight all of us. Put the knife down and you won’t come to any harm. I promise.”

Randall gripped the knife tighter. “If you back away now, I’ll let you live,” he said. He’d meant to sound strong and brave, but instead, his voice broke and the threat came out high-pitched and scared.

“Oh, for crying out loud, I don’t have time for this. Would one of you shoot him already?” Matt said, exasperated.

One of the men near Matt chuckled and began arming his crossbow. As he pulled the bowstring into place, Randall began drawing power from Llandra. The power came to him easily, and the bandit began fumbling with the quarrel, sensing something was not quite right and hurrying to fit it into place. As he struggled with the weapon, Randall barked the Word that he had heard Berry use against the bog-wights in Black Eel Swamp. And for the first time, he felt in control. The power still ripped through him like a gale force wind, but instead of leaving him reeling, he was able to keep his senses as the power spooled out of him and into the Word. After enough power had flowed out of him, Randall clamped down hard to shut off the flow and imbue the spell with only a portion of the power he had drawn.

Pandemonium broke loose as the man’s arms exploded at the elbows with a sharp crack, spraying blood, flesh and bone outward. Bandits recoiled, screaming in startled terror. Before they could come to grips with what had just happened, Randall pushed most of his remaining energy down into the elven dagger, and stepped among them. Things seemed to move in slow motion as he moved among the men, slashing and stabbing in a ballet of violence. As Randall dropped a man near him with a vicious sideways thrust just under the armpit, the man to his left exploded in a spray of blood and gore. Glancing toward the wagon, he saw Berry perched on the vehicle’s side, head down and tail end up in the air, looking like a leopard ready to pounce. Berry barked the spell again, and another bandit became nothing more than a spray of guts and flesh.

In moments, the fight was over. Most of the bandits hadn’t even had time to run before they had been cut down by Randall or turned into gory muck by Berry. Those that did try to run didn’t make it far. Most of bandits were dead, and those few that still lived wouldn’t live long. Randall’s dagger did not give him any special fighting knowledge, but it had amplified his skill and reflexes tenfold. Every cut and every thrust had met a vital target. The weak moans of the living would soon be replaced by the silence of the newly dead.

Randall had to act swiftly, before the rest of the gang returned. He had used a great deal of magic dealing with the bandits here, and he wasn’t sure he was up to a repeat performance. He was alone in unknown territory, and his only cover story had tried to kidnap him for profit.

Cover story! That’s it!
Randall thought in a flash of inspiration. The phrase had reminded him of his conversations with Shawncy. Shawncy had given him the name of someone who might be able to help him: Edwin the cobbler. As much as he wanted to avoid Tallia’s capital, he would have to travel to Ninove if he was to have any hope of getting off of the island.

Randall scanned the gruesome aftermath looking for anyone who might yet be alive enough to help him. He found the crossbowman lying near the rear of the wagon, where he had fallen immediately after Randall had destroyed his arms. As he strode toward the man, Berry leapt off the top off of the wagon onto his back, and scrambled to take his preferred position on his shoulder. Randall knelt down and put his face close to the bandit’s. The man appeared to be alive, but unconscious. Randall slapped him until his eyes flitted open. The man’s eyes grew wide when he saw who had awakened him.

“Looks like you’ve lost a lot of blood. I don’t imagine you’ll live much longer,” Randall told the man. The man moaned in response, trying to turn his face away.

“I can save you,” Randall continued. “I have powers. But you have to tell me how to get to Ninove first.”

The man stared into the distance for a long moment, and Randall began to fear that the bandit was too close to death to provide any answers.

“Northeast,” came the faint answer. “Follow the mountains.”

“Thanks,” Randall said, standing up and leaving the man to his fate. He felt a twinge of guilt at leaving the man to die, but he pushed it aside. They had tried to kill him first, after all. They did not deserve his mercy.

He walked over to survey the bandit’s camp, doing his best to ignore the crossbowman’s weakening cries for help. The bandit’s horses whinnied nervously but didn’t shy away at his approach. Randall chose a horse at random and spent the next few moments gathering up as much food and hardtack as he could fit in a saddlebag. With any luck, he’d be gone by the time the rest of the bandits returned. As Randall worked, Berry curled up on his shoulder and fell asleep, purring gently.

Poor little guy! Randall thought, patting Berry on the head and smiling. He’s all tuckered out. But then again, he did use a lot more power today than I did.

Randall finished stuffing the saddlebag with provisions before the rest of the bandits returned. Saddling up, he turned the horse toward Ninove, leaving the carnage behind him.

Chapter 15

After several days, Randall understood why Declan had been against taking this path to the capital. There was no sign of any sort of path or road at all. In fact, there was no sign of any sort of civilization. There was grassland as far as the eye could see, with only an occasional bush or tree to break up the monotony.

Randall’s travels may have been devoid of overgrowth, but the way was still slow going. Without a smooth road for travel, he had to keep his horse at a walk so that it didn’t step in a hole or burrow and break its leg. It was a pleasant trek, though. Being the middle of spring, the weather was nice during the day, even if it was a bit chilly at night.

Randall occasionally spotted some large wild oxen roaming the grasslands, but they gave each other a wide berth. There was no point in trying to bring down one of the beasts. He had no way to carry that much meat, and there was plenty of small game to be found in the knee-high grass. Where there was plentiful game, there was bound to be predators. But if any wild dogs, bobcats or other hunters roamed these plains, Randall did not run across them.

 Berry constantly foraged for roots, tubers, and wild berries as they traveled, but he always seemed to relish whatever sort of meat dish Randall was able to prepare whenever they stopped for camp. Still, nothing he made seemed to excite the donnan as much as the eel soup that had been a main staple of their diet so long ago.

Randall had grown accustomed to the daily experimentation with magic during his captivity, and he decided to continue the practice to stave off boredom. It was certainly more fun and exciting than the rote repetitions and lecturing he had endured under Master Erliand!

Over time, he grew comfortable with the lightning spell, and though the Word still strained his throat, it became much easier over time. He would practice it daily, until he became comfortable weaving variations into the magic. Not only could he easily cause a lightning bolt to strike a target from a cloudless sky, but he also eventually learned to throw small sparks from his own fingertips by subtle variations in pronunciation. He practiced for days, trying for different effects and imbuing the spell with various levels of power.

When he grew bored with casting lighting, he turned to the flame spell he had heard Aiden use. It took some time to work out the spell from memory, but he eventually figured it out. This spell, too, Randall practiced constantly, trying for different effects. Eventually, he grew so comfortable with the incantation that he began thinking of it as a simple utilitarian tool. After gathering up enough grass and wood from whatever shrubs he could find, he would call forth the fire using only a trickle of power, causing a pencil-thin stream of intense flame to leap from his outstretched hands and onto the kindling.
Now this is how you start a campfire!
Randall thought to himself, smugly.

He also used his old trick of enchanting his undershirt with the Buk rune to turn it into a hidden suit of armor. There was no telling when he might run into danger again, and Master Erliand had drilled it into his head to take every advantage he could in a dangerous situation. Every few days, Randall would have to re-imbue the garment as the effect faded, and he found his ability improving with the constant practice.

I’ll have to get a new shirt soon,
he thought ruefully, looking askance at the tiny holes scattered along the hem of the cloth from where the runes had eaten up the material as they burned themselves out.

The one spell he didn’t get much practice with was Eoin. The Word invoked confusion in others, and after seeing how Berry used it, Randall knew his understanding of the spell was unsophisticated at best. But Berry was his only companion, and he just couldn’t bring himself to experiment on the little donnan. It just didn’t seem right somehow.

After several days, Randall was beginning to fear that he was lost. The bandit had said “follow the mountains,” but the pair hadn’t run into any yet. They hadn’t even come across any hills. There weren’t even any visible off of the horizon. There was just this boring, unending prairie.

When he spotted a lake in the distance, Randall was certain that he had strayed off course. There was nothing to be done about it, though. He had no idea which way he should be going, so onward toward the lake was as good a plan as any. Anything would be better than this endless plain.

He reached the body of water the next day. The lake was huge, stretching off well past the limits of Randall’s vision. He wasn’t entirely sure that he hadn’t missed Ninove altogether and reached the ocean shore, but gave up the notion after tasting the lake water. It was fresh, not salty, and seemed potable enough.

 Randall decided the best course of action was to follow the shoreline until he ran into some sort of habitation. He was bound to come to some kind of port or lakeside town eventually, and he could get directions to Ninove from there. He felt relatively safe this far from Paranol. King Priess couldn’t have the entire country up in arms looking for one boy, after all!

The change in scenery was welcome, as was the addition of fish to their diet. The first time Randall tried his hand at fishing, Berry sat on the lake shore, peering intently at the makeshift bobber. After several long minutes, the little sprite started chittering agitatedly, pacing back and forth and staring out across the lake.

“Might as well sit down and wait,” Randall said to his friend. “Fishing is a patient man’s game. We’re going to be here a while.”

Berry chittered even more shrilly at that, and resumed his pacing. Moments later, he turned and leapt into the lake! Then it was Randall’s turn to pace back and forth impatiently, as he waited long moments for his friend to surface. Soon, Berry’s head popped up from the surface of the lake, his legs wrapped around a small perch! Dragging the catch on shore, Berry immediately set about digging into his meal, smacking his lips and obviously savoring the fish, scales and all.

“Ugh,” Randall exclaimed. “Well, you’ve got lunch, at least. I’m not sure I even want any now.”

Berry quickly finished off the fish, and jumped back in the water. Moments later, he brought a second fish up to the shore. Berry drug this fish all the way up to where Randall was sitting, and dropped the still-flopping package into his lap.

“Show off!” Randall accused, laughing. “Just don’t expect me to eat it raw.”

After that, he let Berry do all of the fishing. And after tasting cooked perch, Berry quickly gave up on eating the fish raw. Instead, he would drag several small fish to his large companion’s feet, and then chitter impatiently the entire time Randall cleaned, gutted, and cooked their meals.

“Don’t be so ungrateful!” Randall would chide affectionately. “It’ll be ready when it’s ready!”

After traveling a couple of days northward along the lakeshore, Randall began spotting fishing boats on the lake, far in the distance. He doubted that he could yell loud enough to be heard, so the pair continued on. He wasn’t sure how much further he would have to go before spotting a river town, and fearful of being caught, he halted his daily practice of magic. If there were Rooks in Paranol, there were probably spies squirreled away in every decent-sized town across Tallia.

 Eventually, the pair came to the mouth of a wide river emptying itself into the lake. The river was far too wide to cross on foot or on horseback. The only option was to travel upstream in the hopes that he could find a place where he could cross.

The next afternoon, Randall heard loud voices cursing and shouting in agitation. As he neared the commotion, he saw a large barge near his side of the river. The barge appeared to be stuck on a sandbar or other obstruction, and several burly men were lined up along the side, thrusting long poles into the water in an attempt to free the craft. Randall blushed in embarrassment at some of the curse words that he could make out at this distance. He had thought Brody was crude, but he was practically a saint compared to these men!

“Time for you to hide,” Randall said sideways to Berry, who was perched on his shoulder, as was his custom. He nodded satisfactorily as he saw Berry fade out of existence in the corner of his eye. He really didn’t like keeping his friend hidden all of the time around other people, but he really didn’t see where he had any other choice in the matter, either. He’d have to figure out some solution, eventually, unless he wanted to spend the rest of his life roughing it away from all civilization.

As Randall neared the barge, one of the men on deck spotted him and called out. “Ho, boy! Come here!” Randall waved and urged his horse closer. Soon, he was on the edge of the river, and the barge was only a couple of dozen yards off of the bank. “What can I do for you?” he shouted across the river, his raised voice carrying easily over the still water.

“Hey, you want to earn a bit of coin by helping us out?” the man replied.

Randall thought for a minute before calling back. “Don’t really need any coin. But I’ll help you out if you can tell me how to get across this river.”

The man laughed at that and elbowed his fellow in the ribs. “Don’t need no coin, he says! Well, I can tell you, there ain’t no way across the river! But we’re hauling this here ore to Varna on the Lake. You help us out, and we’ll give you a ride. From there, you can get anywhere you need to go.”

Randall recognized the town from his discussions with Brody about the caravanning lifestyle. To hear him tell of it, Varna on the Lake was a large and bustling community. It shouldn’t be too difficult to get to Ninove from the city. There was bound to be a road, and likely even caravans between the two. If he could exploit his prior training and experience, perhaps he could pick up work as a caravan guard and make it to the capital in relative ease.

After only a moment’s consideration, Randall shouted his agreement across the lake, and the men invited him to come aboard. Though it wasn’t a far swim, his horse balked at entering the water. Luckily, the barge’s deck was low in the water, and so it wasn’t much of a struggle to get the horse on board, otherwise it would have had to be left behind.

“What do you need me to do?” Randall asked once on board.

“Well, as you can see, we’re stuck,” the barge master said. “There shouldn’t be a sandbar in this part of the river by my charts, and our poles aren’t hitting anything solid beneath the water. We need someone to swim down and see what we’re hung up on.”

“That sounds a bit dangerous,” Randall said pensively.

“Well, it is, a bit. But not so dangerous for you as it would be for one of my men,” the man countered. “You’re young and agile. Not like one of these big oxen,” he said, slapping one of his shipmates on the shoulder. “It oughta be easy for you.”

“All right,” Randall said. “I’ll do it. I’ll have you free in no time!”

Fifteen minutes later, Randall was regretting his cocky remark. He had made numerous dives in the cold and murky water, and still hadn’t found what had snagged the barge. It wasn’t a sandbar, that was for sure. He had swum around the entire boat, and the river bottom was far below the hull on all sides. Finally, he had to swim far underneath the barge to discover what was holding the vessel in place: a large, dead tree. Randall didn’t know if it had grown here during a period of low water, or if it had fallen in the river elsewhere and had ended up wedged here by chance. But regardless of the circumstances, the barge was snagged in its upper branches. If there had been a strong current, the barge might have simply slid over the obstruction without notice, but unfortunately for the river men, they happened to get snagged in a pocket of relatively still water.

Randall’s lungs were screaming, and he gulped in great lungfuls of air when his head finally broke the surface of the water.

“You were down there a long time this time!” the barge master called down to him. “Find anything?”

“Yeah,” Randall called back, breathlessly. “You’re stuck on a big ol’ tree. I’m not sure how you’re going to get off. Poles won’t reach it.”

“Think you can hook a rope on it?” the man asked back.

Randall nodded. “Let me catch my breath, and I’ll try,” he said.

“Whenever you’re ready,” the man replied, lowering a rope down into the water with a small grappling hook attached to the end.

It actually took Randall two tries to get the rope secured in a good spot. The first time he thought he had it secured, it pulled free when the men on the boat hauled on the rope. But the second time they pulled, the barge shifted!

“Climb on up and help heave, boy!” the barge master called, and Randall scrambled to follow orders.

After he and the sailors hauled on the rope for a few minutes, the boat gave a tiny lurch. And then another. Suddenly, they were free of the tree, and began drifting lazily downstream. One man scrambled to the rudder to keep the craft under control, and with that, they were underway! They had drifted down the river and into the lake by late afternoon. After the sails were raised they would reach the city sometime the following morning.

Randall learned that once the barge’s iron ore reached Varna on the Lake, it would be loaded on wagons and travel by caravan to Port Medlin. From there, it would be loaded onto boats to be transported to Salianca. He couldn’t have asked for better luck.

Once they reached the city, Randall would try to get himself hired on with the caravan, and once reaching Port Medlin, he would find some way to board a ship. He’d stow away if he had to! The challenging part in his mind had always been reaching a port city, and now, it seemed that a clear path to that goal was opening up before him.