Accidental Sorceress (Hardstorm Saga Book 2) (21 page)

Fear closed my throat. I could not speak. And even if I could, what would I say?

I bowed meekly, as if ready to give myself into the mob’s hands. But instead, the next second, I tore away and darted into the nearest alleyway.

Spirits help me.
I dashed forward.
There
, a narrow doorway. I flew through a kitchen, out the front, into another alleyway, taking turn after turn. I ran, changing direction again and again.

I was clear on the other side of the city, way past the market, before I dared to slow and catch my breath. I was on Eryl the herb woman’s street. Up ahead, I could see her hut, pressing up against the city wall.

I saw two men by her gate, arguing, paying little attention to anything else.

But when I reached them, a screech came from Eryl’s hut. “That’s her!”

And the two men set upon me at once, grabbing me. Before I could protest, a potato sack was thrown over my head, and I was shoved, dragged into the hut where Eryl kept screaming. “Not here!”

So I was dragged back out. The two men must have been her brothers or her husband and a friend, for the whole while they were dragging me, they were threatening to kill me if I didn’t stay away from Eryl and the city of Ker.

Our boots scuffed on stone, the sound echoing off stone walls as if we were in a narrow passageway. Little light filtered through the potato sack as I begged them not to harm me, my stomach clenched in a hard knot as I struggled in vain.

Then more light shined through the bag again, and I felt soft earth beneath my feet. The next moment, rough hands touched me all over, and I screamed, fearing the worst violation, but the two men only searched me, stripping me of all my earnings and belongings before one of them kicked me in the back of the knees and sent me sprawling face-first into the dirt.

A hard foot connected with my ribs.

I cried out, but so did one of the men. “A hollow! Look! A wraith!”

And in the next moment, I heard their footsteps retreating.

By the time I sat up, by the time I pulled the sack off my head, they were gone. I was outside the city walls, somewhere in the back of Ker, the east road in front of me. The hollow was stumbling forward from the forest in my direction, like a dark spirit from a children’s tale.

And yet, that black shape was such a welcome sight to me.

It slowed, then stopped altogether. Had it come from the woods to scare off the men? To defend me?

Did it have thought still left? Reason in its brain? Or did the body simply move, guided by some animal instinct that remained after the loss of spirit? I wanted no harm to come to him on my account.

“Go back into the woods!”

While I checked my ribs, I glanced back at the small door in the city wall, fearing the men would return with help to chase away the hollow and finish me.

Eryl must have heard of my healing work in the camel yard but not that the soothsayer was after me. For if she knew, I was certain she would have instructed her brothers to hand me over to the authorities instead of tossing me out on my ear. I had a feeling she would have enjoyed seeing me boiled.

My stomach clenched at the thought, and I scrambled to my feet. No broken ribs, thank the spirits.

I glanced toward the city one last time, wishing I could return to the inn and say good-bye to Graho and the children, claim my food and blankets.

Not if I want to live.

I moved in the opposite direction. The hollow still stood out in the open. I had to lead it back into the trees. We had to stay hidden.

The cold bit into me. Once again, I was without a warm cloak or a blanket. Without food. Yet the spirits had provided for me until now. I had to trust them to provide for me still.

The enemy was out there, threatening my people. I could not stand here and wish for things to be different. I had to go forward and do what I could to bring about whatever rescue we needed.

Marga chuffed somewhere in the woods. I strode forward. Maybe it was better not to see Graho and the children to say good-bye. Maybe he would have tried to trick me or force me into going with him. Yet, I felt oddly alone without them. We had become traveling companions along the way.

What did Graho mean to tell me?

I sighed after a few hurried steps. No matter. Now I would never hear it.

As I passed the hollow, it just stood there, head hanging. But a moment later, when I glanced over my shoulder, it turned and followed me.

When I reached Marga in the woods, the tiger bent her head and licked my hand in greeting. Then, because she was tall enough to do so, she licked my face. I dug my hands into her fur and hugged her for a long moment before letting go.

By that time, the hollow caught up too.

“We better be on our way.”

The road cut through the forest. We walked inside the woods so we would not be seen by other travelers should any happen by. And this way, I was also able to find some mushrooms and berries, which we ate on the spot.

We did not journey far that day, for darkness fell early in winter. We settled into a small clearing for the night. At least, since my flint and steel were in my boots, I had those to start a fire. I wished I had not lost my blankets and cloak, but between the fire and the tiger, I did not feel the cold of the night.

I fell asleep to the tiger’s soft snoring and woke to the sensation of being watched. Morning had not yet come, not even dawn, plenty of stars in the sky. I sat up and yawned.

The tiger was gone. The hollow sat on the other side of the banked fire, as close as he had ever come to me.

I felt no fear. If the hollow meant to harm me, it could have done so while I slept. Maybe because I had protected it at Ishaf’s city gate, it seemed to have appointed itself as my protector. I was glad for the quiet company and pleased that the hollow still lived.

Was it really flesh without a sliver of spirit?

“What are you?” I asked without expecting an answer as I stirred the fire to life. I wanted to warm up a little before continuing our journey.

The hollow’s chin moved as if it was trying to talk. Then it did make some sound that startled me.

I leaned forward. “Orsh?”

The rusty, scratchy sound repeated from lips I could not see.

“Orz,” I said, catching the word better this time. I took that to be his name.

He sat perfectly still, but his back was a little straighter, as if the sound of his name, spoken out loud, had somehow brought a small piece of his spirit back to him.

Chapter Seventeen

(Orz)

The unexpected conversation left me unsettled. Was he more than an empty shell? Was he improving? He certainly did not seem to be declining.

I remembered Graho’s words.
“A cobbler from Ishaf said the city guards’ captain was against the sorcerer. He was a big man who recently disappeared. Gramorzo was his name.”

Orz.
Could it be him?

That question and a hundred others filled my mind, about Orz, about what Graho and the children thought of my sudden disappearance, about the journey that awaited me.

As warm as the fire was, I could not settle back into sleep. Orz did not lie down either.

Both moons were full, clearly visible through the bare branches above, the light dusting of snow reflecting back their light. A silver glow bathed the forest. Since we had not walked much so far, I was not overly tired.

The beauty of the night drew me forward. The woods did not scare me. I had suffered much more harm in the cities of men, than I ever had in any wild forest.

“We could walk some more,” I suggested.

Orz stood without a word, his head bowed. His hood as ever remained in place. I had not yet seen his face. Even in full daylight, I could see no more than the tip of his stubble-covered chin.

I pushed to my feet, then kicked snow over the fire.

This time when we set out, he followed me from only a step or two behind. Maybe so he could hear if I spoke to him again. Clearly, he could understand me. I had been wrong about that before. Could he say more than his name?

“What did the sorcerer do to you?” I asked. Maybe if I knew that, I would know how to help him.

But Orz remained silent at my question.

“What were you before?”

He said nothing.

“Did you always live in Ishaf?”

He followed me in silence.

I resigned myself to this and plodded forward. My stomach growled. Behind me, Orz’s stomach answered.

I had planned on leaving Ker with full provisions for a long journey, early in the morning so I could walk a fair distance before nightfall. But ever since leaving Karamur, nothing had turned out as planned.

I thought of Batumar, and my heart twisted. I walked forward. I could not look back. There waited such a dark, deep hole as would swallow me forever.

We walked a fair distance before I heard someone walking in the woods. I thought of the brigands who had attacked us on the road to Ker and reached for my knife, which my attackers outside the city wall had deemed too insignificant to take. But once again, it was Marga returning.

Her whiskers were wet with blood. She licked them with a satisfied growl as she padded forward by my side. She had not brought me a gift this time. Maybe all she had caught was a squirrel or some other small animal that she had eaten in one bite.

“To the city of Regnor,” I told her. “We must find Lord Karnagh.”

Lord Karnagh’s people, the Selorm who lived in the kingless kingdom of Seberon, fought with battle tigers. If any people would accept me with a tiger in tow, it would be the Selorm.

No wind blew, but the night chilled me through regardless. I was glad I was moving. Lying on the cold hard ground in the woods would have been even more uncomfortable, especially if the tiger wandered off again.

She sniffed the air constantly. When we heard the howl of distant wolves, she answered with a warning roar. The wolves must have turned in another direction, for they did not come to investigate, and I did not hear them again.

When the sun rose, I stopped in a small glen but did not start a fire. I lay on the bare ground. The tiger lay next to me and warmed me with her heat. She even put a paw over me, as if I were her cub she was protecting.

Orz sat with his back against a tree, as if on guard duty. Truly, I could not remember ever seeing him sleep. He was so silent and still that, after a few moments, I forgot about him.

Since the trees had no leaves, I could see the sky through their gnarly branches. I looked up at the gray winter clouds and thought of Batumar. Grief flooded my heart. He had given his life for me and a handful of little beggars. He had lived with honor and had died with honor.

Someday, the Kadar would be singing songs about him at a feast, about him and the siege of Karamur. I’d had no great love for the Kadar when I had first come to them, but now I hoped with a desperate hope that they would survive to sing such songs.

I fell asleep to the sound of the tiger’s snoring and dreamed dark and disjointed dreams, remembering none when I woke past midday. Yet I carried their weight, feeling anxious as we continued.

Any food I could forage, I shared with Orz, who would not touch me, not even for victuals, but accepted whatever I placed on the ground for him.

If we came across herbs, I gathered them and hung them from my belt, but the pickings were slim. As we walked in companionable silence, my thoughts turned to another journey, one I had made with Batumar’s mother to free him when he had been captured by the enemy. We had walked through a similar forest to this. We had been nearly captured more than once. At night, to keep safe, we had slept in the trees.

But despite all the danger, we had reached Batumar. And we had all made it safely back to Karamur, the fortress city.

I had doubts aplenty when Batumar and I embarked on our journey through the mountain, but once we passed that test, I had gained heart and expected this adventure to end in success. I had expected the journey to be difficult and dangerous, but I trusted Batumar’s great strength to achieve our goals. Why would the spirits send him on a quest just to fail?

I railed against the injustice.

We walked through the same kind of woods as the day before and kept going long after dark, staying in the forest but within sight of the road. When we came across a creek, we drank. At least we had the flask I had given Orz outside Ker. This he now returned to me, along with the handsome bowl Graho had carved.

I turned my attention to finding food. We ate roots and leaves, and the grubs I found under the rotted bark of a tree. I had the sack the men who’d attacked me had left on my head, but what little food we found, we ate, so the sack remained empty.

We crossed a large clearing of waist-high dead grasses. I collected an armful as we walked. More woods waited for us on the other side.

As the sun went down, I pulled deeper into the trees to start a fire, and Marga padded off to look for prey. Orz drew closer and sat on the other side of the flames. He cut a dark and tragic figure.

From the pile next to me, I took four or five strands of grass and rolled them into thin rope, adding and adding for length, then made a light but strong net from the grass rope, weighting the edges with stones.

“I can use this to hunt tomorrow,” I told Orz.

He watched from under his hood as my fingers worked, without ever raising his gaze to my face. His fingers twitched on his lap, mimicking mine. He had lost the rags that had bound them before. For the first time, I saw that his bones were at all the wrong angles. Not as if they had been simply broken, but as if they had been broken over and over again.

My throat tightened with sympathy. Since I knew Orz would not answer, I did not ask how he had gained those injuries.

The tiger returned late, when all the stars were out in the sky. Her maw was clean, her side flat. We all went to sleep hungry, for the dinner of grubs Orz and I had shared had been nowhere near enough to fill our stomachs.