Bound (8 page)
Authors: Chris Michaels,Reema Farra
The barge knocked against the dock and a sentry descended the gangplank onto the pier. The second sentry remained on the barge and ordered slaves to their feet. Hannah watched in silence as the “merchandise” was forced single file onto the dock. She knew what came next. Slave Market.
All because she trusted Travis.
The girl with hair like ice descended on to land, eying the first sentry like a cat eyes a fat mouse.
The instant the girl stepped onto the pier, she spun toward the sentry and shoved him, unleashing more fury than an enraged Grey Wolf. He dropped his weapon, tripped on the gangplank and tumbled into the filthy canal water. The slaves froze in terror. Hannah was overwhelmed by fear and intense joy. The girl backed into the crowd, a savage grin twisting her otherwise pretty face. There was no doubt that the girl was enjoying herself.
The sentry on the barge fired his pistol into the air. “Stay where you are you little witch!”
The girl turned, her grin now a scowl. “Witch? You ain’t seen no thin’ yet!”
Her eyes deepened. The silver streak in her hair turned black as ink. The stench of Wild Majick, corrosive and sour, overwhelmed the dock.
Just as Hannah was sure the lightning would strike the man, a clock tower chimed twice. The electric arc faltered. The girl looked behind her, then back at the sentry. “You’re lucky I’m in a hurry,” She eyed Hannah, “there’s someone I need to meet.”
Hannah’s blood ran cold.
The wind died and the electricity vanished. The girl took off and disappeared into a crowd before the sentry could regain control.
Eventually, the sentry in the water pulled himself back to the dock and the other sentry pushed the remaining slaves, and Hannah, onto land. Together, they chained everyone into a single-file line and marched them toward the Valin City Slave Market. The sun was just beginning to crest the horizon, throwing long, spooky shadows across the buildings.
Hannah had never been to a large city. Valin City was made up of more than two hundred islands smushed so closely together that the water between created a complex maze of canals. Stone cathedrals, castles, and towers sat intermingled among the modem progress demanded by the Ilsan Republic. Since the civil war began, Valin City had become the temporary capital of the Republic. Ilsa City had been claimed by The Family.
Here, near the docks, clockwork automaton of animals carried messages and transported goods. Directly above the walkways cable were suspended about eighty feet in the air. Every few blocks a staircase ran up from the walkway to a platform beside the cable. Hannah couldn’t figure out what the platforms were for or why so many people were crowded on them at first. Then a hot-air craft, attached to the cable, whizzed overhead and stopped beside the anxiously waiting people. After loading and unloading passengers it was propelled forward and disappeared around the corner; its basket filled with passengers.
Valin City was a strange place: a mixture of machine and men, steam and sweat, lifeless automatons and living people. It seemed this mammoth city never slept. Citizens filled every hour with wine, dance, shows, plots, murder, and espionage.
Jason had spoken about Scimeon and New Haven, even Glass Waters. He had told her stories about mansions, steam trolleys, theaters and exotic foods. He’d told her about everything.
Except the smell.
Factories spewed plumes of smoke, assembly lines dumped filth into the canals and tens of thousands of people pushed, shoved and careened through the streets and waterways. Muckers shoveled coal into the bellies of great metal monsters that provided heat and power to the flats.
Hannah trudged alongside the
Plathin do Telmin
, the widest canal in the city. People pressed close to her, reeking of sweat and fish, grimy from a day spent loading and unloading the barges. If this is what cities were like, Hannah wanted nothing to do with them.
Suddenly a sharp pain pricked her hand. Hannah rattled the chain that connected her to the line of slaves. An insect clung to her hand. Long and thin with no head, the color on its skin swirled, mixing blue and orange, then fading to grey and black in places. By the look of it the bug had no substance, more like a faded photograph. But she saw it. Felt it. Heard its thoughts inside her head.
An Animate!
Hannah looked around. Had anyone else seen it? She let her feet carry forward as she deciphered the Animate’s message. Jumbled pictures formed in her head.
The first image: a red brick cathedral hugging the pier next to a large canal. Several waterways converged at the spot, creating a channel filled to the brim with muck.
Next, her skin felt wet and she suddenly felt like she was plunged into water.
The wet sensation fell away as the image changed to a series of lines like an intricate maze. Finally the picture transformed one last time, becoming a bolt of lightning pounding a tree atop a lonely hill.
As the last image melted a haunting melody crept over her. The song rose and fell, pricking her memory. It was her song.
Her and Jason’s.
When Hannah was younger, Mama sang the same lullaby every night. Hannah shared the tune with Jason and it became their secret. As far as she knew, no one else in the world knew the melody. She hadn’t heard the lullaby since her last rendezvous with Jason.
Her heart raced.
When the insect detached itself from her hand, it turned to dust and dissolved into the breeze.
Hannah’s mind whirred.
Travis talked like Jason was still alive. Jason knew some majick. I only saw his body for a second, it could have been a fake.
The line of slaves rounded a comer.
Jason must have gotten my Animate and he sent it back with a secret message. I knew he’d come for me!
The slaves stopped and Hannah looked around. Several waterways spilled into the Central Canal, creating a busy intersection. A collection of shops slouched over the water, threatening to fall in. She stood at the entrance to a wooden bridge raised to allow water taxis and coal barges to pass.
To her left, a brick building dominated the street. A red-brick cathedral.
The first image!
She remembered her wet skin – the sensation that she was
underwater
– and knew what she had to do. What Jason wanted her to do. But first, she had get out of these chains. She fiddled with the lock and wiggled her wrists, but couldn’t slip them off. The cuffs were too strong. How could she weaken them?
Majick
. Travis had shown her what to do. She hated thinking of that traitor, but it was the only way to get to Jason.
The bridge lowered. In a minute, they’d be across and she would lose her chance. She recounted the symbols Travis had her memorize the night before, recalling the Rune for Freezing. She concentrated on the coldest things she could remember, forcing herself to feel desperate, which she hoped was the right emotions. Over and over, her fingers traced the Rune against her cuff. Colder and colder thoughts consumed her. Her breath escaped in a white puff. Icy pain shot though her wrists. Her fingers stopped dancing.
Frost covered her manacle, winding around every inch and down the chain to the next slave. A murmur rumbled down the line, quickly punctuated by a bellowing sentry. “Shut-up, all of ya!”
Hannah’s instincts took over. She ripped her hands apart, shattering the weakened metal. Another slave snapped his chains. Someone shouted, “We can break ‘em. Everybody run!”
Chains broke. People screamed. Sentries shouted commands.
Free. Hannah bolted toward the canal, away from the slaves. She sucked in a deep breath and tried not to think about sea monsters or poisoned water.
She leaped from the pier and plunged into the water.
I’m coming, Jason!
“The Ladies of Majick dance with Men, but Men never lead. The dangerous samba of Wild Majick is not for the tame of soul. The calculating waltz of the Treatus will devour all but the strongest of mind. The shadow dance of Enchanting – of songs and Phantoms and lies and binds – is only for the mad, the desperate and the lost.”
– Compendium of the Treatus
Volume 2: Majicks in Three
CHAPTER EIGHT
P
eople bustled behind Cabbot, making their way to and from the docks of Valin City. She was pleased they stayed several paces from her, going as far as stepping into the canal to avoid getting too close. Even in exile, even covered in a black robe and hood, she inspired fear. No time to savor the fright of these commoners. She had Prey to hunt.
Cabbot stood in front of a ramshackle shop, Hidden Jack’s Lost Treasures. The building leaned to the left, half-sunken in the mud. “How the mighty have fallen,” she said to herself. “Good to know I had something to do with that.”
She pushed open the door and strolled inside. The room was dark without electric lights, wireless radios, or anything Ilsan. A few candles lit the exotic art hanging from the walls, novelties from the Isles of Sallak, treasures from the Jaden Continent, even relics from the mighty Dedrian Empire. All spoils of Ilsan Conquest. It was said that you could walk around the entire globe and never leave the Ilsan soil. How true it seemed.
Cabbot turned up her nose. Relics they may be, but all fakes. Not even good ones.
A man stepped out from a back room. Graying hair sprouted wildly from his head, a black beard hung in a single braid down his chest. Intricate tattoos of dragons, Treatus Runes, and names of barbarian gods covered his arms. A dark, shimmering monocle sat on his face. His smile wide as a watermelon slice and false as the Teth spear on display to her left. “Welcome to Hidden Jack’s Lost Treasures. Where anyone with good taste–”
She drew her pistol. “Shut up, Snyder.”
He looked shocked. “Are you looking for something particular?”
“I know you deal in majick.”
He shook his head vigorously. “How dare you? Even accusing me could get me–”
“In trouble?” Cabbot stepped forward. “You’ve been in trouble before, Snyder.”
“How do you know that name?”
“I want to see your
truly
hidden treasures.”
“Who are you? Take off that cloak!”
“What’s the matter? Worried about the Grey Wolves? Scared of Cabbot?”
“Cabbot?” His eyes narrowed for a long moment. “Why are you here? I haven’t dealt in majick for years, besides I thought the Grey Wolves were busy dealing with Diamond’s “Family” and your stupid little war.”
“We can handle that rat, and his stupid little “Family”. Besides that’s not why I’m here and I
know
you haven’t given up majick,” she growled. “Old dog and all that.”
His face paled. “Where are the others?”
“I’m a lone Wolf today. And I’m not here to kill you . . . yet. I need something.”
His sly smile reappeared. “What did you bring to trade?”
Cabbot pulled her gun and cocked the hammer. “Your life.”
Snyder gulped. “A fair price. What can I tell you?”
“Not tell.
Do.
” She pulled the hood from her face.
Snyder jumped.
She reveled in his fear but revolted his pity. “Can you undo the curse?”
He stepped around a pile of artifacts and touched Cabbot’s face. Ran a long, thin finger down one of the spider lines on her cheek. “Felt like you needed a makeover?”
“Can you undo the curse or not?” she snarled.
“This is a strange fusion of Wild Majick and Treatus Spells.” He straightened. “Very powerful. I cannot undo the curse.”
Cabbot knew how to play this game. “How much will it cost me?”
“It’s not a matter of coin. I doubt anyone could undo this except the person who cursed you.”
Cabbot scowled.
“And,” he continued, “they’d have to do it voluntarily.”
“So, if there’s nothing you can do . . . ” Cabbot raised the pistol again.
The grin left Snyder’s face. “I didn’t say I couldn’t do
anything
. I said can’t get rid of it.”
“Make sense. Fast.”
“I can help you find this person.
Persuade
them.”
“Go on.”
“You know about magicians and sorcerers?”
“Of course,” she snapped, “I’ve spent my life destroying them.”
“Then you know the difference between them?”
“Magicians use the Treatus to cast spells and control majick. Never hard to kill.”
He nodded. “And sorcerers?”
“More of a challenge. More fun.” She couldn’t suppress a smile. “They use Wild Majick. Sometimes
it
controls
them
.”
“Yes,” Snyder nodded again, “but there is a third way to access majick. Terrible power. Put away the pistol, Cabbot, and I can make you more powerful than any sorcerer.”
She gritted her teeth. “I don’t deal in majick.”
“You and I both know you don’t have a choice.”
Cabbot considered him. Even being touched by majick was a capital offense. If the Ilsans found her she’d be executed. More majick couldn’t hurt, and if she found this girl, undid this and kept this bit of Majick a secret . . .
She slipped the pistol into her cloak.
“If Majick were a River,” Snyder continued, “there would be creatures in the water, right? Turtles and fish and the like. Some intelligent, some not. Some can leave the River, others are bound. Humanity is like men on a boat. They dabble in the water, drink it, and use it. Some even drown in it.” He paused for emphasis. “But some . . . ”
Cabbot understood. “Some eat the fish. You’re saying you can enslave these creatures?”
“They can be . . . ” he hesitated. “Persuaded to follow your will. Enchanting. It’s never a good idea – give a Phantom the chance and they will turn their power against you.”
“Can they make me whole again?”
“No,” he replied. “Only the sorcerer who cursed you can undo it. I told you that. This will give you the power to find the one you seek.”
“Don’t play games with me, Snyder.”
“No games. Just power, but it’s dangerous.”
“I can handle dangerous.”
“If you falter, even once, the power will be turned against you.”
“I can keep control.”
“Many have said that. I’ve never known anyone who has.”
Cabbot narrowed her eyes. “Show me what to do.”
The moment Hannah hit the water, a shudder exploded through her. The air in her body evaporated. Panic. She flailed her arms and legs in an attempt to rise to the surface. Jason had tried to teach her to swim once. She’d never learned.
Why would Jason want me to jump in? He knows I can’t swim.
She felt his voice, warm and calm.
“Just relax. You’ll float if you relax.”