The Fuller's Apprentice (The Chronicles of Tevenar Book 1) (52 page)

Josiah gulped. Was he? Willing to give up control over his own life and submit to whatever the Mother and the Wizards’ Guild required of him? Willing to spend his time and energy, maybe even his life, serving those who at best would take him for granted, and at worst would be uncooperative or ungrateful or angry? Willing to surrender love and friendship and family, if need be, to the demands of his calling? Willing to face the limits of what the Mother’s power could do, even if he gave everything he had? Willing to carry out the Mother’s work, as much when her justice demanded death as when her mercy granted life?

Willing, not to wield power, but to allow himself to be used as a channel for power controlled by another’s will?

He looked at Sar. The donkey looked back, blinking his soft brown eyes.

Josiah thought of the people crowded onto the tiny crumbling island, friend and enemy alike, sick with terror, moments from death. He thought of Elkan, begging Sar to spend his life to save them.

He turned back to the Mother. His voice was small. “Yes. I’m willing.”

She bowed her head. His vision dissolved in a blur of gold.

Cold struck him. Gold light cleared from his eyes, narrowing to a small sphere that encompassed his hand on Sar’s side. Warmth lingered in that hand a moment longer than the rest of his body. When it faded and the last of the light vanished, he pulled his hand back. Shiny pink scars scored it. Matching scars rippled the hair of Sar’s flank.

Put your hand back on me!
Sar shoved himself sideways into Josiah once again, and Josiah reflexively grabbed at the donkey for support.

Now stick your other hand out.
Josiah, confused, realized the voice wasn’t coming from his ears, but echoed inside his head somehow. He tentatively raised his free hand.

Not like that! You’ve seen Elkan do it often enough. Point at the gap!
Sar tossed his head, indicating the place where rushing water swept through the breach in the road in front of them. Across the torrent, people were screaming, clinging to each other as the ground crumbled under their feet.

Josiah complied, mimicking Elkan’s familiar gesture. “What do I do? I don’t know how I’m supposed to—”

Just don’t fight me. I’ll do the rest.

Heat ripped through Josiah’s body from the point where his left hand lay flat on Sar’s sodden fur, through his chest and down his right arm. Golden light poured from his hand into the water.

Josiah struggled to breathe. The Mother’s power sucked strength from his bones. He felt as if he was running, flat out, faster than he’d ever run before. His heart hammered frantically; his lungs strained to move air in and out. He felt as if he was lifting a weight far too heavy for his muscles, fighting to hold it up lest it crush him. It was all he could do to stay standing and keep his hand pressed into Sar’s back.

The light plunged into the water at their feet. It built up, a glowing golden dam, and forced the water away from the shorter path, diverting it all back into the main body of the stream. Water drained away, leaving a muddy expanse between the road and the river. Screams changed to joyous shouts as the water receded from the remnant of Prison Point. The people surged forward, slogging through silt and puddles toward safety.

Josiah wanted to watch, but he couldn’t focus. His muscles screamed, his heart raced, and his throat dried as he panted. Sweat poured from him. Beside him, Sar struggled, too. But the dam held, even as water built up behind it, the pressure constantly increasing.

Josiah felt like he was dying. He wept from the pain, exhaustion threatening to overwhelm him. Black crowded the edges of his vision. But people still poured across the gap. It would be several minutes yet before they were all safely across.

Even his full strength wasn’t going to be enough. Sar was tapping into his deepest resources. Surely before long they’d be exhausted, and only the final reserve that kept his heart beating, his lungs breathing, his brain thinking, would be left. That’s what Elkan had offered. Sar could drain it if he chose, burning Josiah out in one last glorious burst of power.

Terror swept Josiah at the thought. He cracked his eyes open. His vision swam, but he glimpsed the last stragglers plunging into the drained channel. He couldn’t be sure, but was that Gan among them? He closed his eyes again.

“Sar,” he whispered. “Don’t…”

It won’t come to that,
Sar assured him.

Josiah had a hard time believing him. Shudders wracked him, and he poured all his will into keeping his hand aimed more or less in the right direction.

Then it was over. The light died; water crashed back through the breach. Josiah fell to his hands and knees, fighting to stay conscious.

The world spun around him. Slowly, slowly, it stabilized. The pounding of his pulse in his ears eased a fraction. He caught his breath enough to open his eyes.

Elkan sprawled before him, face down on the road. Josiah crawled to him. “Sar! Is he—”

With relief he saw Elkan’s face was turned to one side, mouth and nose free of the puddles. Josiah groped for Sar. “You’ve got to heal him!”

His hand struck the donkey’s leg, and he clung to it. A flicker of light pulled energy from the depths of Josiah’s gut and spilled across Elkan. A swirl of confusing sensations flooded Josiah’s mind.

He’s alive, but unconscious. I can’t heal him. The aftereffects of a broken bond can only be mended by time. Get him across my back, and I’ll carry him to the Mother’s Hall.

Sar lowered himself to the ground beside Elkan, folding first his forelegs, then his hind legs beneath him. Josiah pushed himself up. Standing wasn’t quite as hard as he’d feared; he seemed to be recovering a little. He grabbed Elkan’s arms and tried to drag his limp form over Sar’s back.

Suddenly a watcher was there, helping him. Together, they managed to get Elkan draped over Sar. Another watcher brought a piece of broken rope, and they bound Elkan in place as best they could. It was a good thing Elkan couldn’t feel anything, Josiah reflected, because this ride wouldn’t be comfortable. Sar heaved himself to his feet. Josiah gasped his thanks and stumbled beside the donkey as he set off down the road.
Follow me. The Hall is this way.

Josiah was glad of Sar’s guidance. He’d have been lost among the dark, deserted streets otherwise. He concentrated on matching Sar’s pace, plodding along, cold and miserable, letting thoughts of the warm shelter of the Mother’s Hall sustain him, until shouts from ahead drew his attention.

The bulk of the people they’d rescued had set off immediately towards safety, escorted by some of the watchers. But many watchers had surrounded the group of prisoners released from the jail, keeping them from escaping into the night and shepherding them toward the Mother’s Hall. Now fighting had broken out between watchers and prisoners.

New strength flooded Josiah, and he ran toward the conflict, outpacing Sar. Distant flickers of lightning lit the gloom. In their brief brightness, he recognized Ozor and Tereid battling furiously against the watchers, with many of the bandits alongside them. Ozor swung a broken board studded with protruding nails; Tereid slashed with a knife he must have taken from a watcher. It was too dark and the quarters were too close for the watchers to bring their bows into play, and the bandits significantly outnumbered them.

Before Josiah could reach them, the last of the watchers fell. The bandits huddled into a tight group for a moment, then set off in disciplined fashion down a street to the right.

Josiah staggered into a run and dropped to his knees beside the first watcher he came to. The woman’s head was half caved in, trails of blood leaking into puddles and washing away in the rain.

Sar caught up and leaned into his side. This time Josiah knew what to do. He put his hand out, hovering over the watcher’s head.

He was getting used to the sensation of the Mother’s power pouring through him. Light spilled over the watcher’s body. Cold empty nothingness flooded Josiah’s senses.

Dead,
Sar told him.
Stand up.
Josiah scrambled to his feet, and the light flickered in turn to each sprawled body.
All dead. No, wait.
Josiah heard a sound like a drumbeat and saw surges of glowing blue coursing through one of the prone forms. He and Sar made their way to the man’s side.

More confused sensations poured through Josiah’s mind, dazzling colors running together, warmth and rough textures, rushing and thudding and hissing sounds, sharp scents and tart flavors. He gathered he was sensing the inner workings of the watcher’s body. “I can’t tell what’s going on.”

It takes a while to learn to interpret what you sense. Here, he has a knife wound in his gut. See how the normal function is disrupted, and the tissues torn and damaged?
Josiah couldn’t make sense of what Sar was showing him, aware only of a roil of images and feelings more confusing than before.
Never mind. You’ll learn. Move your hand down to his stomach, and I’ll take care of it.

This time the drain on his energy was substantial; nothing like the overwhelming demand of blocking the water, but enough to leave him panting. Under his hand, the watcher’s abdomen mended itself in the golden glow.

The watcher sat up, tugging futilely at his ripped tunic. “What happened? Did they get away?”

“They ran off that way.” Josiah pointed.

“That leads to the docks.” The watcher looked around at his fallen companions and swore. “I’ve got to go find reinforcements. Please, can you follow them? Don’t let them get away before we—Wait. You’re not—” He looked in confusion back and forth between Josiah and Sar, taking in for the first time Elkan’s unconscious body draped over the donkey’s back.

“It’s all right,” Josiah assured him with far more confidence than he felt. “We can help.”

The watcher wavered, but chose to take him at face value. “Follow them, find out where they’re going. But don’t try to take them on, whatever you do. There’s far too many of them for one wizard, and they’re ruthless.” The watcher and Josiah shared a moment of bleak silence.

The man struggled to his feet. “Maybe you should take him back to the Mother’s Hall instead.” He peered doubtfully at Elkan. “One of you can track them for us later.”

Conflicting emotions assailed Josiah. He wanted badly to get Elkan to safety and care. And he wasn’t sure he wanted the bandits recaptured, at least not if Gan were among them. But fresh evidence of the bandits’ brutality was laid out all around him. Surely it wasn’t right for Ozor and Tereid to escape justice for their crimes.

“Maybe you’re right.” Josiah bit his lip.

“Whatever you decide, I defer to your judgment.” The watcher nodded to him. “I’m going to report to Watch headquarters and come back with help.” He set off purposefully toward the center of the city.

Josiah stood, unable to decide, until with a wash of relief he realized he didn’t have to. “Sar! What does the Mother say we should do?”

It doesn’t work that way. Your choices are still your own.
He flicked his ears back and forth.
The bandits can’t go far. No matter where they flee, a window will allow them to be followed. I think we should take Elkan home and report what’s happened to Master Dabiel and Buttons. They’ll know best what should be done.

Josiah started to nod, when a thought struck him. “Sar, wait. Isn’t Ozor Sailorkin?”

Sar regarded him thoughtfully.
That’s what Master Jarah said.

“They’re headed toward the docks. What if Ozor means to steal a ship?” Josiah clenched his hands into fists, certain that was exactly what Ozor intended. “He probably learned enough growing up to be able to sail one.”

Sar laid his ears back.
Even using a window, tracking across open ocean is difficult. It’s too hard to stay within range.

New horror struck Josiah. “What if they take Kefira’s ship? It’s all ready for a long voyage; we saw them loading it up with food and water. They could sail right out of Tevenar. That’s what Ozor wants, to get away. Kefira said the Law forbids anyone to sail past the boundary stones…”

The docks are in range. Put your hand out.

Josiah obediently extended his hand, then belatedly remembered to lay his other on Sar’s neck. The donkey rolled an eye at him, but didn’t comment. The Mother’s power flowed through him, pulling at the essence of his strength. This time a glowing golden sphere bloomed above his upturned palm and cleared into a window.

It was dark on the other side, as dark as it was here, but frequent flickers of lightning revealed the scene. It showed a few minutes earlier; the last few bandits disappeared down the road to the docks. Sar made the window follow them, swooping dizzily as he accelerated the passage of time.

There.
The water of the river was nearly to the top of the docks; the berthed ships rode high. The bandits clustered next to Kefira’s ship. Josiah caught a glimpse of Ozor shouting orders and pointing, but the wind and rain were too loud for him to make out what the bandit leader said. Some bandits went to the ropes that bound the ship fore and aft and began untying them, while others located a gangplank and extended it across to the ship’s side. Led by Ozor, the bandits streamed aboard.

Sar laid his ears back.
We have to stop them. We can’t let them break the Law of Isolation.
The window faded, and Sar set off at a trot.

Josiah hurried behind. “Why? What could happen?

Sar didn’t break stride.
You don’t have to talk out loud for me to hear, you know. You can speak to my mind the same way I speak to yours. It’s best to get into the habit, so you don’t inadvertently reveal more than you should to those who aren’t members of the Wizards’ Guild.

The thought took Josiah aback, momentarily slowing his stride, but he hurried to catch up and gave it a try.
Like… like this?
He mentally formed the words as clearly as he could.

Excellent.
Sar’s tone in his mind was complimentary. In his pride, it took Josiah a few minutes to realize Sar had changed the subject.