The Way of the Power (13 page)

“You’re making me have to pee, too,” the lilt-voiced one said. More metal jangled, more clothes rustled, and a second stream joined the first.

The smell of urine intensified, and though she knew it was an illusion, Malja swore she could feel the vibrations on the tree trunk. One of the men sighed, but the stream did not diminish.

Malja flexed her fingers around Viper’s grip. If either soldier noticed anything beyond where they relieved themselves, she would have to act. They posed no serious threat. She would have surprise and speed on her side. If she moved at once, they would still have their pants down and their crotches exposed. Most men in that situation would not engage in battle right away but waste precious seconds to pull up their pants.

“Look it, all I’m saying is that even if you’re right, even if we got the best of it all, it don’t matter kak for us — you and me I mean. Baron Kemit can say how rich we’re all going to be, but when have the guys at the bottom ever gotten anything from the guys running everything?”

Lilt-voice buckled his pants, but Rasp-voice continued to pee. “You might be right. Kemit’s a brutal man. You see what he did to Jeckly?”

Rasp-voice grunted. “Jeckly’s more kak than the kak their throwing our way.”

“Doesn’t mean he should have had his little toes cut off. I mean we’ve all snuck an extra spoonful of soup before.”

Rasp-voice finished and buckled up. “But you and I, we’re the cooks. It’s our job to be tasting the food. Jeckly was just greedy.”

The two men stopped talking. A few seconds later Lilt-voice whispered, “What is it?”

“Quiet.”

Malja lowered, preparing to leap out and cut down the first soldier before he even recognized her as a serious threat.

“You see something? I left my gun back at the fire. You want I should get it?”

“Close your crupping mouth and stand still.”

“I’m just saying, I don’t have anything —”

Rasp-voice snorted. “I think you pissed again.” He giggled and it soon became a raucous laugh.

“You piece of kak, that wasn’t funny.”

“I had you.
Oh, no. I left my gun back at the fire.
You gotta relax. Don’t you know how this is going to work? We’ll be out here, freezing our sticks off, probably for a few more days and then Kemit will find some crupping reason for us to go home.”

“Unless Ro or Dovell tries to get rid of us. That could’ve been a Dovell spy out there.”

“There ain’t anything out there. Relax.”

The voices dimmed as the cooks returned to their soup pot. Malja remained in position in case they turned back, but seconds later, Stray urged her to come back. Though her thigh burned, she remained crouched as she moved through the woods.

When she reached the others, Tommy smacked his forehead as if smacking her and looked at her with mock surprise. Stray reacted no better. “What kind of craziness do you suffer from? You can’t simply go off like that. What if they had seen you?”

She suffered his tirade because she knew, had he been the one to break off on his own, she would have said the same things. However, that did not mean she would suffer in silence. “If they found me, I would’ve had to kill them before they made a sound.”

“Kill the cooks? I’m sure the entire camp wouldn’t notice that. Certainly not when they lined up for dinner and nothing had been prepared.”

Malja discarded his further complaints with a shrug. “They don’t seem like much competition.”

“They’re stronger than you think. Brutes, really. And when they get heated up in battle, they can ignore all pain and common sense — simply rip through your defenses by taking the damage and pushing on. I’ve seen it. For a short time, they can be unstoppable.”

“Well, they didn’t find me, so we won’t have to experience that.” She checked Tommy to make sure he paid attention. “While I don’t fear these soldiers, there are a lot of them. We should skirt around and see if we can find an easier path.”

“No,” Stray said. “You’re missing the situation. All three groups have camps like this one. I have no doubt. They’ve settled in here because this is where they lost you — the woman who stole the Artisoll. Since it’s logical that all three have made camp, they most likely all have planted spies in the camps of the others.”

Tommy demonstrated Malja’s predicament by walking two fingers on his palm, and then closing the palm in from all sides.

She nodded. “If we go around, we’ll hit another camp or another group of soldiers — someone will see us.”

“And with all the spies,” Stray said, “once one camp sees you, they all see you.”

“Is there another way around?”

“I doubt it. They will have all routes to the town covered. Especially the closer you go to Abrazkia’s home.” An ominous cloud crossed Stray’s hard skin. “I have a plan. It will separate me from you two, but it will work. When the way is clear, head straight through until you reach the town streets. From there, you should end up on Rower Road. Take that north and you’ll see the roof of Abrazkia’s place above the others. I assume you can figure the rest out on your own.”

“What are you going to do?”

“If you succeed, meet me back where we first arrived. Do you remember how we got here?”

“Of course.”

“If I don’t show by sunrise, then I’m dead.”

Malja looked to Tommy, sure that he would protest, but instead, she saw a firm expression on the young man’s face. He understood the plan without being told, and he showed Stray his respect by not putting up a futile argument. He had grown up. It could not be denied.

Stray untied his scabbards and set them aside. He removed the scimitars and spun one in each hand. Holding the weapons skyward, he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. As he exhaled, he lowered the weapons and focused ahead.

Malja tapped Tommy’s shoulder. “Be ready.”

As if responding to an invisible bell, Stray sped off toward the camp, his arms pumping, flashing the polished scimitars against the fire and moonlight. He rushed at the cooks.

“Hey! What’re you doin’?” Lilt-voice said, pointing a finger.

With one swift motion, Stray cut off Lilt-voice’s entire arm. As Rasp-voice tried to react, Stray removed his head from his body. Enough noise had been made, however, and soldiers poured out of their tents — some curious, some confused, and a few already brandishing weapons.

Tommy moved toward the camp, but Malja grabbed his wrist. “Not yet. We have to wait for the spies.”

They watched as Stray killed or maimed a few soldiers before dashing deeper into the camp. With Stray out of sight, they continued to listen to the clang of metal-on-metal, and twice they heard the report of gunfire.

Tommy looked at Malja but she shook her head. “Not yet.”

A few minutes later, as the commotion died into the throat of the forest, Malja saw what she had waited for. More soldiers — these dressed in blue — hurried through the camp. Finally, the third group of soldiers — mustard and brown — worked their way toward the fight.

All the camps would have left plenty of soldiers behind, but sending these units along thinned the ranks considerably. More than enough. Without a word or a look, Malja took off. Tommy hurried right behind her. They bobbed along the edges of the camp, enveloped in the shadows of trees, protected by the noise and confusion Stray had created.

Once they reached the opposite side, they cut away toward the town. Faster than expected, they came upon the first streets. Though cleared of snow, an icy coating lay atop the stones. Both Malja and Tommy slipped and fell.

The thump of their fall filled the street. That was when Malja noticed the emptiness. A few candles lit a scattering of windows, but beyond that, not a sign of life.

Getting back up, careful to maintain her balance, she listened for anything that might betray an entire town hiding nearby. Nothing. It was late — perhaps they were all asleep. But how could so many sleep with three armed forces on all sides and the Artisoll missing? Then again, Malja had seen many townspeople cower under the threats of political upheaval. Yes, that made sense to her. Afraid of the shifting sands beneath them, they pulled the bedcovers over their heads and waited for the turmoil to end. But without the Artisoll’s Rising, these sands would continue to shift for a long and blood-soaked time.

With his arms out to keep balance, Tommy’s furtive steps inched him toward the street’s edge where the cleared snow had been piled. Once there, he walked along the side, using the snow to keep traction. Smart. Malja inched to the other side of the street and did the same.

They followed Stray’s directions and fast found Abrazkia’s home. It stood out among the others with its height and its unique architecture. Where the other buildings were narrow and constructed of gray and brown stones, Abrazkia’s towered high, took up most of the block, and involved masonry that the townspeople could not match — perfectly cut stones, chiseled abstract designs, and monstrous sculptures watching from high above.

The place also had a basement with a staircase leading down off the street. Malja waved Tommy over. At the bottom of the stairs, they found an unlocked, wooden door.

Possible trap, but Malja doubted it. There were too many bad outcomes to setting a trap for her when Abrazkia had no clue when or if Malja would ever return. In the meantime, the trap would be easily tripped by any number of random factors in an active town — curious children, cold soldiers, greedy looters. Without further delay, Malja grabbed the handle and shoved the door open.

Despite her reasoning, she still looked at Tommy and said, “Be cautious.”

They entered Abrazkia’s home.

Chapter 12

A warm mist hung
in the dark basement. The reek of decay peppered the air. The exposed beams running straight into the stone walls looked aged and weak, threatening to bring down the entire first floor.

With Viper in hand, Malja walked across the wet floor. “This may have been a mistake.”

Tommy glanced at a tattoo on his elbow and light radiated from his body. The light didn’t reach far, but it served better than stumbling in darkness.

From what they could see, the basement appeared empty except for several crates in one corner. They had been chewed open by rats, and those same rats had been piled in the center — dead and rotting.

Tommy’s face expressed the question in Malja’s head —
Why?
She knew that the do-khas were powerful, but she didn’t see how they could possibly see into the future. So, she had to believe that Abrazkia still did not expect her arrival. Yet if this macabre scene had not been meant as a threat towards her, then what was its purpose?

She moved closer to the crates, paying particular attention to one that had its wood slats bursting outward instead of in. Tommy clapped his hands for her attention. The warning in his eyes stopped her. Whatever had been in that crate most likely had killed the rats.

Malja’s eyes widened. She heard a strange, rhythmic sound — breathing. Something lived in that basement. Her body tensed, and she lowered into a stance that braced her well — kept her standing should something check her from the mist.

Think, think, think.
Whatever lived in here did not see well — might even be blind. If it could see, it would have reacted when Tommy’s magic produced its light. It needed warmth and a moist place to live. But scanning the basement showed no places to hide — no equipment, no discarded doors or painting or old furniture, not even a rickety staircase leading to the first floor. Nothing to protect a creature or for it to call home — other than the crates. Except the crates had been ruined by the rats. Even from where Malja stood, she could see well enough inside — nothing moved, nothing breathed, not a hint of anything harbored in the crates.

Which left the pile of dead rats.

As Malja peered through the mist, focusing her senses on the pile, Tommy moved to the opposite side and focused on a tattoo that had appeared on his wrist. Malja tried to ignore the way tattoos came and went upon his skin. She had never seen that happen for any other magician. But then, no other magician had been through such physically unusual experiences.

She shelved those thoughts. They would not help her survive the moment, and all she knew told her that this moment threatened her survival.

Turning Viper parallel to the floor, she twisted her waist so that when she struck, her whole body would spin into the attack. One clean slice through the middle of the disgusting pile would dispatch anything hiding in there. With a glance, she checked that Tommy understood what she planned to do. He nodded in reply.

Exhaling to relax her body and ensure the fastest motion possible, she released her energy. Viper smashed through the pile and dead rats exploded off to the walls. But Malja felt no resistance. She heard no cry of shock or pain.

That’s when the wooden beam above her moved.

It dropped the front half of its serpent body, and Malja swung hard as she hopped back. Viper cut across the creature’s back but no blood sprayed out, no cry of pain, nothing at all. A real wooden beam could be no harder than this thing’s hide.