Small Magics (64 page)

The back of the building was empty; standing room for worshippers of the lower classes. Near the front, boxed seats were set on either side of a central aisle. Above him, flames licked one corner of the roof and were spreading to the support beams. Smoke was starting to roll across the ceiling. His horse shied and Thomas had to fight to keep the beast moving forward.  There was a large metal box sitting in the middle of the floor before the altar. He pulled the horse to a stop and tried to dismount, nearly falling as the animal spooked and reared beneath him. Thomas got his feet under him and held tight to the reins as he stumbled towards the box. It was unlocked, with only a thick bolt holding it shut. Thomas pulled the bolt and threw the lid open. Three large, thick books lay inside. Thomas began to pull them out and realized he wouldn’t be able to hold one, let alone three while riding. He'd have to get them into his saddle bags. He grabbed for his horse, hoping the books would fit.

Someone in the doorway yelled.

Thomas turned. Randolf was charging at him. Thomas threw one of the books at him and backed away, letting his horse go and, pulling his blades out. The horse spooked, backing itself into a corner and turning one way and another, its nostrils flaring. The familiar ducked the flying book, and attacked. Thomas was far slower than he should have been, and could barely keep the other man off. The black-clothed man kept attacking, cut after cut, thrust after thrust, driving Thomas back as fast as he could. Thomas put a pair of the boxed seats between himself and his opponent and kept backing away. The other man thrust over them, point seeking heart and eyes. Several times the blade nearly pierced Thomas’s flesh. The smoke was growing thicker, and Thomas was sure that the entire roof was about to catch fire.

Hooves clattered against the chapel floor. George, bellowing a cry that shook the rafters, ducked through the door and charged. Randolf dodged as George’s thick walking stick swung at his head. George pulled the reins to turn the horse, but Randolf was quicker, stepping in and driving his blade, hard and deep, into George’s side. George let out a cry and grabbed the blade in his hand, holding it tight. Thomas, stepped forward and thrust his own weapon into the black-clad man’s throat, then ripped it viciously free with a twist of his wrist. Randolf dropped, dying, to the ground, pulling his sword from George’s flesh as he fell. George cried out and clutched his side.

“George!”

“Don’t just stand there!” George snarled, hand pressed tight to the bloody wound in his side. “Get the books!”

Thomas ran to his horse and grabbed for the reins. It took him several tries to get a grip as the horse, now on the edge of panic, darted back and forth against the wall. George rode over, using his own horse to block the beast's motion while Thomas tried to calm it down. The animal didn't stop moving, but was hemmed in enough that Thomas could force two of the books into his saddlebags. The last book he shoved into George's saddlebag, then he tried to mount. The horse wouldn't hold still, and Thomas, his legs beginning to buckle again, barely managed to grab hold and gain a seat. George waited for Thomas to mount then both headed for the door. George all the while gripping his bleeding side and cursing through clenched teeth. The bishop was standing, dazed, in the doorway.

“Go!” Thomas shouted. “Ride him down!”

George whipped his animal into motion. The horse, already skittish from the smells of smoke and blood, leapt forward. Thomas followed hard after. The bishop must have regained some of his senses, for he stumbled out of the way. The two animals burst out of the church and into the yard. Henry, Eileen, and Benjamin were still in the field, waiting. Thomas and George drove their animals across the yard and over the fence to meet them.

“Back to the circle!” Thomas shouted. “They won’t be looking for us for a while.” He turned to George. He could see deep red spreading, not only from George’s wound, but through the light that surrounded his friend. He suddenly felt very afraid. “Can you ride?”

“Aye,” the big man said through gritted teeth. “Just get us out of here.”

They ran, hooves pounding across the field, then down the road. From the town, Thomas could see torches being lit and people stumbling out into the streets. The five charged through, scattering the people and nearly running several down. They left the main road and followed another, then turned off onto the path towards the stones. The forest swallowed them, forcing the horses to slow to a walk as the moonlight vanished behind the thick leaves above. Thomas, his vision bright with the greens of the living forest, led them onward until they found the lone standing rock, and the stone circle beyond.

As soon as they reached the clearing, Thomas was off his horse, ignoring the weakness in his own body as he raced to George. The others stared at him until he shouted, “George is hurt!”

All three were off their mounts at once, and rushed to help. The big man slid to the ground, almost crushing Thomas. Benjamin and Henry raced to either side and hauled him up.

“Put him against a tree,” Thomas said. “We don’t know if he’s been pierced through the lung.”

“I don’t think so,” George growled. “By the Four, it hurts, though.”

The two men put him down against the nearest tree, and tried to staunch the flow of blood. It oozed from the wound, despite their best efforts. Thomas was terrified George would bleed to death. He pulled the spell book out from under his shirt and paged through it for a healing spell. He was light-headed and dizzy with fatigue from the magic he had performed, and sickened to his soul by all the killing.

Eileen wrapped blankets around her brother. “Anything?”

“I’m looking,” said Thomas, flipping one page after another.

“Hurry!” she was crying, now. “Please!”

“I’m trying!”

“I’ll get a fire going,” said Henry to Benjamin. “We need to keep him warm.”

Eileen took George’s hand and squeezed it tight. Benjamin worked on the wound, adding more cloth and doing his best to keep George conscious and upright. Henry gathered together wood and dumped it into the fire-pit. Thomas went through the rest of the book and found nothing.

He swore ferociously and hurled it at the ground. “It’s useless!”

He turned towards the horses and the world spun around him with the sudden movement. He stumbled forward, lost his balance and fell. The world faded to grey, then cleared.

“Thomas?” Eileen was desperate now.

Thomas tried to rise. His legs refused to move, and the darkness was getting ready to overwhelm him. “I can’t walk,” he said, trying to get to his feet. “Get the books from the saddle bags! Mine and George’s!”

Eileen ran for the horses, pulling the books free and practically throwing them at Thomas. He opened the first and began skimming through it. Behind him, the fire sparked into being, Henry gently nurturing its small flame.

Eileen grabbed one of the books and thrust it at Henry. “Look through it!” she snapped. “Find a spell of healing!”

Eileen took the last book and slammed it to the ground beside the fire. She knelt above it and peered close to read the words by the dim light of the new flames. “Stay awake!” she shouted at Thomas.

“I will,” Thomas promised, though he was not at all sure he could. The world kept spinning at random times, and more than once everything went black. He forced himself to stay conscious, to keep looking.

The spell book in his hands was very thick, but only had two dozen or so spells, and only half of them actually glowed with magic. He skimmed through the ones that did. Each spell was written out in the greatest possible detail, taking up a dozen or more pages. The first two summoned insects, the ones after summoned different types of birds and animals. One summoned fish. Three of the last four were for summoning the Banished, but they didn’t glow with any magic at all. The academic part of Thomas’s mind that wasn’t desperate to save George wondered if there were any theological implications to that. Thomas didn’t bother to think about it, and paged quickly through to the last spell, hoping it would be for healing.

The last spell in the book was for summoning power, and like the three before it, the ink lay dead on the page, devoid of an signs of magic. Thomas was about to toss the book aside, when the word
sacrifice
caught his eye. He began scanning the page, horrified as he read the opening details of the ritual.

“Is it there, Thomas?” Eileen demanded from her place at the fire.

“No.” Thomas pushed the book away. “It’s not in there, but there’s something else—”

“Who cares?” demanded Eileen. “Find something to help George! Hurry!”

“Here!” called Henry. “A spell for healing!”

Thank the Four
, Thomas tried to force himself to his feet, but found that he could only crawl. He moved as fast as he could, reaching the fire and taking the book from Henry. “You hear that, George? Just hold on!”

“I hear.” There was an eerie calm in George’s tone, “Hurry, will you?”

“I am, I swear.” Thomas read through the spell as quickly as he could then read it a second time. “All right. Henry, hold the book. Eileen, help me get to him.”

Eileen grabbed Thomas and hauled him over. Thomas pulled the bandage away, making George hiss in pain, and placed his hands directly on the wound. Henry held up the book. Thomas read the spell once more then began chanting a series of five words. Each word was important, the book said. Each was specific and had to be said a specific way. He chanted them over and over again. Nothing happened. He turned his attention away from the book, taking the words from memory and focusing all his attention on George’s body. The man’s inner light was fading. Thomas was terrified. He couldn’t let George die.

He took a deep breath, letting the words come out on the exhalation and focused on the wound. He did it again, and again, and again.

When white light came from his hands, he nearly started to cry.

He kept the chant up, kept concentrating on healing George’s body. He could feel energy moving through his body and into George. George’s light began to glow brighter. His breathing became deep and slow. Thomas kept up the chanting until George reached down and captured both of Thomas’s hands in one of his own.

“Thomas,” George said softly. “Look.”

Thomas followed George’s eyes down, saw that where the gaping hole had been in the man’s side, there was only a small scar.

“You healed me, Thomas,” George was smiling. “You healed me.”

“Oh.” Thomas sat back onto his heels. “Good.”

The world turned black and somewhere in the very great distance he felt his body hitting the ground. After that, there was nothing.

Chapter 32

“Get up! Thomas,
GET UP!
”

It sounded like Eileen, but very far away.

“Get up. Now!”

People keep saying that to me.

Someone slapped him, hard and stinging. “
GET UP
!
”

Eileen’s voice was suddenly much closer. Thomas’s eyes snapped open just in time for Eileen to hit him again. His head rocked to the side. He brought his hands up to protect his face.

“I’m up, I’m up!” Thomas blinked until his eyes focused. The night was much darker than when they had left the bishop’s house. The moon had set, leaving only the stars to cast what little light they gave down on them all. Thomas shook his head, rubbing his face to clear away the effects of the slaps. “I’m up. Why are you hitting me?”

“Get on your feet.” Eileen pulled him into a sitting position. “They’re coming and you have to get up.”

Thomas put his feet under him. However long he had been unconscious, it had helped. His limbs no longer felt like they weighed a hundred pounds each. He no longer felt in danger of passing out with every motion. Still, he didn’t really feel awake. He forced himself to stand and looked around. He was inside the stone circle, with his friends crouched in the underbrush around him, waiting. George and Benjamin were closest, on either side of the rock slab that he had been lying on. Henry was crouching a short distance away. “Why are we in the circle?”

“It’s the best place,” said Henry. “There’s no way they can bring the horses in here.”

“They?” Thomas saw no one. “The bishop?”

“His men. George took watch after you passed out. He spotted them coming through the woods. Can you call lightning again?”

“I don’t know.” Thomas closed his eyes, looked inside himself and found the power, still there and still as strong as ever. He reached for it and nearly blacked out. Eileen caught him, holding him up. “I can’t,” said Thomas. “I’ll pass out before I can do any good.”

“Wonderful.” Henry turned away, peering out into the darkness. “I hate night fighting.”

Thomas reached for his sword-belt and realized he wasn’t wearing it. Eileen pointed. His weapons were on the ground next to where he’d been lying. He picked the sword and dagger up and unsheathed them both. “It’s not night for me,” Thomas said. “I can still see in the dark.”

“Good.”

“Listen,” hissed George.

It was the sound of hooves, drumming on the earth that made up the trail, and of branches being snapped back as the riders pushed through the forest.

“How many?” asked Thomas.

“All of them that are still alive,” whispered George. “A dozen at least.”

“All right,” Henry kept his voice pitched low. “Spread out in a line. Find a place to hide. No one moves until I do. Scream as you attack. Try to kill at least one before they have time to react.” He turned to Benjamin. “Can you do this?”

Thomas looked at the sword in Benjamin’s hand. It seemed awkward there, and Benjamin stared at the blade as if he had never held it before. “I don’t know.”

“Try,” said Henry, his voice hard. “Right, spread out.”

Thomas took a deep breath, hoping the extra air would steady him. His friends crouched low in the brush, save for Eileen, who stayed beside him. He saw her expression, and reached for her hand. She crouched down with him.

“I’m sorry,” Thomas whispered. “I truly am.”

“Me, too.” Eileen suddenly hugged him tightly, squeezing him with all her strength. He squeezed back just as hard, his blades making an awkward cross behind her back. The noise from the horses was getting louder, closer. Thomas released her.