The Way of the Black Beast (2 page)

Though just a torn cover and eight pages remained (numbered 127-134), the book never failed to capture Malja's imagination. It was called
Astronomical Wonders.
A two-page spread sat in the middle of the text, diagramming the solar system. The book explained that the stars in the night sky were actually enormous fireballs, and that people lived on a planet that circled one such fireball. Their planet, Geth, was second from their star and one of only four in the system, but that every star had planets.

Malja peered up into the night. As much as she believed the book to be true — it matched what she had been taught growing up — she found it difficult to comprehend. Corlin was only one of five large countries in the world, and if Geth could be big enough to hold five countries, why couldn't the universe be as big as the book suggested?

She put the book away. It made her feel small and insignificant. On some days that was a good thing. But not when she killed. She didn't want to think that taking the life of another meant so little.

From her pocket, she pulled out the Nolan coin. As the hours passed, Malja twirled the gold coin between her fingers.

"Teala Nolan," she said, barely raising an eyebrow from Tommy. She kicked dirt in his direction, startling him. "You almost died today. I don't want you in a situation like that again. Understand? If I choose to confront Nolan—" Tommy cocked his head and grunted. "Okay, when I confront Nolan, it'll be my choice. But you're stuck with me. It's not right for you to be in danger so much because of me. Violence follows me. You don't need that."

Tommy lifted his shirt to reveal the criss-cross pattern of scars left from repeated lashings.

"That's my point. You've already seen enough. Those bastards using you to power their boat, chaining you in that small room ..." She grew quiet as she recalled the blood on the walls, the raging storm, and her decision to save the boy. Shaking off the memory, she said, "I couldn't just leave you there. But I'm no mother, and this is no way to grow up."

Scowling, Tommy strode toward Malja. He snatched the Nolan coin away and began packing their travel gear. Malja closed her eyes for a moment, not sure if she should be thankful or sad.

"For the longest time, I've been on my own. I'm not good at being responsible for another."

Tommy slapped his hands against his sides and frowned. He pointed at her with one finger, at himself with another, and put the fingers together.

"We're a team, huh? A team has to be able to trust. You know I don't want you using magic. It's dangerous, and I can fight fine for myself. So, you want to be a team, you start by listening to the leader. Trusting the leader's decisions. And I'm the leader."

Tommy crossed his arms and produced a familiar scowl. Not only did this mean that he didn't agree with her, but it also added a connotation of
Go ahead, try to live without me. I'll just stand here.

The boy had courage. Malja gave him that. He could brave the idea of facing Nolan or any threat without a visible hesitation. Moreso, he could stand up to her. And while she wanted to protect him, she had to admit that to survive in this world, one needed to be brave and strong. The safest way for Tommy to achieve that was by her side. Without her, he might get injured or die, and she hadn't gone through all the trouble of saving his life just to let the world rip him apart.

"Okay," she said. "But you listen to your leader."

With a happy double-tap salute, Tommy continued to pack their things.

* * * *

They stood before the iron gate. Drizzling rain did little to wash away the four grueling days spent hiking to the Nolan mansion. Torches burned in sconces on either side offering little light and less warmth. Four northern konapols growled at them. They were the smaller, domesticated version of the wild konapol, but like their relatives, they had thin gray fur that highlighted toned muscles, powerful front legs, and comical, wrinkled faces that hid vicious teeth. They were like pudgy, old men who would be glad to tear apart anyone dumb enough to cross them. Though tired and grumpy with hunger, Malja forced her mind to remain alert.

As the gate opened, the clanking of old metal died along the muddy ground. One man appeared. A burly fellow wearing a torn tunic adorned with a white sash — an attempted uniform.

"What you want?" he said, clearly unhappy at having to answer a night call in the rain.

Malja held out the coin. The guard squinted, harrumphed, and headed away. He herded the northern konapols into two cages.

"Come on," he yelled over his shoulder. "I ain't gonna carry ya."

As they entered the grounds, Malja observed closely — marking exits and ambush points. Everywhere her eyes fell, she saw the simple miracles of civilization that the world had lacked since the Devastation. The pathway leading to the house had not been thrown together from scavenged concrete but rather had been meticulously laid with red and brown brick alternating in a subtle yet lovely pattern. Four enormous columns, good for defense, reached from the ground all the way to the overhanging roof three stories above. The foyer did not have the marks of decay and neglect but rather showed the tender care of a house staff working with meticulous pride every day. Even in the huge main room where they waited, claw-shaped sconces buzzed with lightning balls pointing to the employment of magicians — just like in ancient days. They cast a brash, pale light on the stone walls.

Tommy took interest in a marble statue standing in an alcove. Two waterways in the floor trickled small streams down the center of the room, and Tommy hopped over them in several boyish bounces. The statue that had caught his eye depicted a hefty, bald man with a beard reaching to his feet — the Prophet Galot who learned the will of Korstra, brother god of Kryssta, and brought it to the enlightened. Malja knew nothing more of the story. She never had a use for religion.

"That's over two thousand years old," Nolan said, entering the room in a crimson gown as if waiting to host a grand ball. The lines on her face suggested she had been waiting a long time. Though stark and cold in demeanor, she had a disarming, pleasant voice. "My apology for the lack of welcome, but my staff is asleep. They work hard for me, keep this place running and I give them a roof and a full belly. But if I push too hard, they'd probably leave."

"I suspect people would put up with a lot to live here," Malja said.

Clasping her hands together, Ms. Nolan said, "So you're the great Malja. I half expected flames to burn from your eyes."

"That's a new one. Usually I'm ten-feet tall with the muscles of a betron."

Ms. Nolan's mouth opened in a hideous grin. "Stories of me are equally exaggerated ... mostly. Now, what do you want?"

"I'd like to know why you're trying to have me killed." Malja had not intended to be so blunt, but the old lady had a way about her that opened things up.
Magic?
Malja wondered. Other than in fairy tales, she had never heard of mind-controlling spells, but few people knew the full extent of magic and its uses.

Ms. Nolan appeared puzzled. "I assure you, I don't wish you dead. I have no reason to."

Malja reached behind her and gripped Viper, but a thought stopped her from pulling the weapon out. Nobody had frisked her. Nobody had even asked her to give up her weapons. Malja found herself, once again, wishing she had listened better to Gregor, her adoptive father. He had tried to teach her about magicians, but at such a young age and having been tossed aside by the bastard magicians Jarik and Callib, Malja had no desire to be educated on that topic.

"Why do you believe I want to kill you?"

Malja held out the Nolan coin. "I found this on the body of your assassin."

"I see," Ms. Nolan said with a distasteful frown. "Follow me, please."

The two women walked through a hall lined with ornate paintings of the Corlin countryside. Tommy flitted around them, never taking his eyes off Malja for too long. This time the attention pleased her — it meant the boy would not notice the open booths built into the walls. She had never seen a focus booth before but had heard about them in every starving town she visited.

Before the Devastation, wealthy people owned private collections of magicians to provide electricity, food, heat, everything. These heartless closets were where the magicians slaved away their days — easy to access by the Masters but out of view to guests. One booth had its door closed. Malja thought Ms. Nolan was about to comment on this, but she closed her mouth while observing Tommy.
She's noticed the tattoo.

"In here," she said and opened a heavy door carved with the Korstrian symbol — four lines intersecting to form an intricate M. At least, Malja always thought it looked like an M.

Ms. Nolan took one step, stopped, and faced Malja with a look of concern more unnerving than her contorted grin. "We call this the Dry Room. Perhaps," she said, tapping her lips like a worried grandmother, "the boy should wait out here."

"He goes with me."

"I understand; however, in this room—"

"He goes with me," Malja said, her patience dying.

"Very well."

As Malja entered, she saw the horrible reason Ms. Nolan wanted Tommy outside. An emaciated woman clung to the thick, wooden bars of a cage. The cage, shaped like an enormous egg, had wooden spikes pointing in and out — the woman could not escape and nobody could help her. Madness drenched her. She howled as if calling the moon and followed the mournful sound with an abrasive cough. She tore a strip of gray cloth from her shredded dress and coughed mucous into it. When she attempted to reach through the bars, Malja saw the tattoo — a bluish swirling like the wind blowing through clouds or a tide splashing the rocks.

Malja glanced down at Tommy. He spied the woman from behind Malja — curious, but scared. Not for the first time, she wondered how old he really was. Based on his height, the little bit of fuzz on his upper lip, and his odor, she placed him at twelve, on the cusp of puberty. His reactions, though, ranged from the cold pragmatism of a seasoned warrior to the trembling fear of an abused child. The latter appeared to be winning out now.

"Enough," Malja said, her firmness snapping Tommy from his fear as well as re-focusing her own purpose. "Tell me why you sent that man, or I'll just kill you and forget about it all."

"Do you solve all your problems by killing?"

Malja held still. The question had plagued her thoughts for some time now. She hated killing. She believed that. Each time she cut open an enemy, part of her became less than before, made her smaller. Yet, if she wanted to be honest, killing did solve a lot of her problems. She often eased her worries by remembering that violence ruled the world around her. No governments. No laws. She killed to survive.

Ms. Nolan walked to the cage with an arrogant stride, but stopped just shy of the madwoman's reach. Speaking firmly but in a calm, controlled tone — a warrior's tone used to command but not agitate — she said, "I didn't hire anyone to kill you."

"This coin calls you a liar."

"No, it calls you naïve. Do you think I'm stupid? Why would I pay an assassin with a coin that identifies me?"

"You think someone wanted me to think it was you?"

For a breath, Ms. Nolan's eyes lost focus as if she had lost herself in some indulgent memory. With a sudden sadness, she said, "I wish you were right, but I think the answer is less tricky. The coin was the mark, the assignment. The killer was sent to kill me. You just got in the way."

Malja shook her head. "He was assigned to kill certain people before I could speak with them. But I had no reason to seek you out."

"Maybe not yet."

"I don't understand."

Ms. Nolan pointed to the cage. "That shadow of a woman in there was ... is ... my sister. Audrex was born two years to the day after me." Ms. Nolan paused, and Malja had the presence to wait quietly. From the side, she saw Tommy had the presence, too. "My sister was the wild one. She would run through the woods, yelling silly words, not worrying about whose attention she might garner. She would pick up a plant or eat a berry without worrying what it was or if it might be harmful. She never seemed to notice the painful lives we all led. We were struggling to survive, and she would play. If there was no food, she would sing a song. If there was no water, she would dance and twirl. And she was beautiful. When she hit her teens, men showered us with gifts — food, clothing, anything. Father had died and her beauty made life easier, so we let it happen. But no matter how generous the bribe, Audrex would only flirt or offer a little kiss. They wanted a wife; they got a memory. That all changed when the magicians came.

"There are so few people in the world now, and they're spread so far apart. If you find a few good ones, you're lucky. But we had a whole town of good people — solid people, real law and order, all Korstrian, no magicians. Blissgar was a good town. Actually built the town ourselves rather than live in the ruins and rubble like so many do. Of course, here in Corlin, too many roving gangs want to destroy such towns. It's safer to be in the ruins. We found that out when a gang of them arrived. Magicians. Yes, I see it in your face. I thought the same thing — magicians don't form gangs. I knew something bigger was at hand. The two leaders stepped forward and declared that Blissgar now belonged to them. Two brothers. You know them."