The Melaki Chronicle (13 page)

They could feel it, or them, waiting.

“No more skeletons?” Melaki said.

“They know we can defeat them. Useless waste of power.”

“Ah.”

“They pressed us close yesterday,” Tila said.

“Using skeletons, they do not know as much.” Talin said.
“They are a limited vessel.”

The courtyard held a grisly sight. An enormous pile of human
bones were piled in a charred pyramid.

“The necromancers of Kellerran,” the wizard said. But the
imperial forces had only been hunting necromancers. “Now we clean up what was
left behind.”

“How did the imperials fail to finish cleaning--” Tila said.

Talin waved her off. “The necromancers would have summoned
things, such as what we have faced. But sometimes also more powerful things.
Hidden by magic, the imperial forces missed them all. As the necromancers died,
their magic dissipated, at once releasing and revealing their summoned spirits.”

“I see,” she said.

The entry was torn open, double doors strewn inside.

“I am certain the things we seek will be in the throne
room.” Talin's nose led the way.

Melaki pointed to Sala. “Stay here.”

Her ears waggled.

The throne room was gloomy, part of the ceiling gone and
open to the outside.

“Light,” Talin said.

Melaki started to form an oily pattern and a light but
started a chain reaction of events that interrupted him and that he would
forever regret.

From two sides rushed sickly green ghouls, eyes blazing red
with the fury of hell. Both Talin and Tila were shocked into inactivity for a
second.

There was no time. Melaki slammed a pattern of force against
the one rushing Tila. Then he turned and saw something falling from the
gloominess above them.

Talin destroyed the ghoulish thing that had rushed him with
an astounding display of raw power. But he was oblivious to the thing falling
on him from above. It had a mouth as wide as the wizard's shoulders. One bite
and Talin's head would be removed.

No time.

He formed a force pattern and pushed. The thing was hit by
magic and diverted away.

Talin noticed it. But he squinted at Melaki.

He formed an attack pattern as the thing scrambled to its
clawed feet. It screeched as it launched itself again at Talin. It was too
close.

Tila cried out but so did the thing she was fighting.

He could not spare a look. The thing almost at Talin's
throat was the powerful one he had felt from so far away. Some demon of some
sort. He saw Talin manipulating his spirit magic. He would not be in time.
Melaki reached out and touched that silvery and slimy cord of pattern he
detected, something to do with the spirit usage. The creature stopped, maw open
in a soundless shout.

He could feel it straining. He could feel its surprise.

Talin finished his manipulation and his attack caused the
thing to shake violently.

Melaki saw the magic in his mind. He saw the silvery-slimy
cord of magic from Talin. It was aimed at the thing's head.

The demon struggled, jaws snapping just out of range of
Talin's outstretched fingers. Then its head exploded. Black blood, gore and wet
flesh that sizzled as it struck them showered over the throne room.

Talin whirled on Melaki. “What have you done!” His shout
echoed in the silence.

Melaki blinked. He glanced at Tila. She was laying face up,
breathing raggedly. The demon-thing twitched next to her, dead. He started to
move towards her.

“Melaki!” The shout stopped him. He felt Talin begin to
manipulate magic. “You have used what is forbidden on pain of death!”

“I saved your life.”

“No! Giant magic is forbidden! It is evil! The curses of the
gods fall on those who use it!” His shouting was loud. His face was red. His
eyes hysterical with rage.

“Heretic?” Tila said. Her voice was pained and she gasped as
she struggled to sit up. “Heretic?”

Melaki saw the horror in her eyes.

“Die! Damn you!” Talin's shout alerted him. His hand shot
out.

Melaki reacted with a magic shield. The resulting collision
blew him backwards to skid along the ground.
Too powerful. His strength is
incredible...

Talin advanced. Thrusting another hand.

He did not have time to restore the shield. Magical claws of
the spirit raked down his face. It sank deep and tore flesh in a jagged swipe.
He cried out in agony.

Talin raised his other hand, manipulating.

Melaki felt it. Another attack like the one against the
demon beast. His head felt like it began to swell.

Too powerful.

He desperately sought out the manipulation with a delve.

Talin laughed. “You want to see the power that kills you?
Pity you learn nothing from it. You can not even resist me. You might as well
watch.”

Melaki drove everything he had into reaching through the
delving to that silvery-slimy cord: Talin's connection to the spirit. He did
not even know if this was going to work. But his head was beginning to feel as
if it would crack under the pressure.

Melaki squeezed that cord and severed it. Instantly, the
pressure in his head was gone.

Talin's mouth opened in a wordless scream. His body jerked,
evil flooding into him beyond any measure of control. His skin began to bubble
and form pustules. The pustules were black. And then came the wail of horror
from Talin's mouth.

Melaki scrambled backward in fear.

Talin's wail was strangled and then his body seemed to pull
in on itself from the inside. His face crumpled inward, slightly, and his body
pitched over. What was left did not look human.

He got to his feet and ran to Tila.

She was looking at him in horror. “Heretic.”

Her wound was deep. Blood bubbled at the corners of her
mouth. He delved her and saw the damage. Broken chest bones, punctured lungs
rapidly filling with blood. She was dying.

“Hush, Tila, my love. I will heal this.”

“Do not touch me with your filth!” Blood spurted from her
lips.

“But--”

“Never!” A cough bubbled from her. “Heretic! Die...”

“My magic is not evil, Tila.”

She did not answer; she was trying to reach for her sword.

“I can save you.”

“I would kill you.”

And he saw it in her eyes. And he began to weep. He held
her, cradling her as her gasps grew ragged and bubbly. He smoothed her hair,
whispering to her and rocking her. “I love you.”

Tears rolled down her cheeks as she breathed her last. She
was looking into his eyes as she died in his arms.

Melaki sat in the tavern in Balis Port. He regarded the mug
of the strongest drink the bartender carried. He did not know what it was. It
was good and it burned.

The bartender had been nicer to him this time. He saw the
death and loss in his face. Soldiers went through it all the time. He
understood what Melaki felt. He only charged him half for the drink.

But Melaki did not care about the price. He could have afforded
to buy the tavern with what he had brought back, even after he gave half of the
gems to the imperial officer. He could have bought all of Balis port.
I
could probably buy half the damned island.
But neither did he care about
the wealth. He wanted to leave. He wanted to be gone from this place of death
and sorrow.

The price of the drink mattered not to him.

“Melaki?”

He looked up at the familiar voice and almost fell out of
his chair. “Domo?”

The old friend nodded, grinning like a fool three bottles
into a drinking night. He looked around. “Not much to offer, eh? By the gods,
what happened to you?” He had seen the wounds across his face.

He waved at his cheek. “Some demon-thing or something. Sit
yourself down and explain how you come to be here.”

Domo sat, slamming down a mug. Mead splashed over the edge.
“Did I never tell you I was royalty?”

Melaki chuckled, despite his mood. “My ass is more royal
than you will ever be.”

His friend brayed laughter. Then he took on a haughty air.
“I am the king who loves to wander amongst the scum of the kingdom because of
my love for the scummiest of people.”

Melaki burped.

“I was hoping to find you here.” Domo winked.

“What? Just for an old drinking partner?”

“Yes. But actually I have something for you.” He dug around
in his pouches until he produced a crumpled scroll. The wax seal was still
intact. He tossed it on the table as if it was a bone scrap from a meal. “There
you go.”

Melaki lifted it with two fingertips as if it was covered in
filth.

His friend smirked.

Looking it over, he studied the seal. “Altanlean Rukha,
Rashilla.” She had written him? He thought briefly of Talin's death. There was
no possible way word could have reached the Altanles mainland when he had
informed Senior Officer Mata of the wizard's death only the day before.

“Maybe they want you back.”

He snorted and took a drink. Dragging the scroll, he placed
it into the pocket of his dirty robe.

“You look as if you have seen quite a bit, then?” Domo
turned serious.

He raised his cup to the bartender who gave him a nod. Then
he turned the cup in his fingers as it sat on the table. “This land is cursed.”
All the lands are cursed.

“What do you mean? Because of the necromancers?” Domo
frowned.

“More than that. The whole island is dead. It is death.”

Domo leaned back. “I come with a group in the Third Charter.
Maybe I can open up my own tavern.”

“You?”

“Me.”

“Here?” Melaki shook his head.

“It must not be all that bad.”

“I have seen this land kill three, and I loved one of them.”

His friend frowned and then nodded his head in
understanding. He reached forward and roughly patted Melaki's forearm. “You
have my sorrow, my friend.”

The bartender tipped the jug. Amber liquid flowed into his
cup, filling the pain in his soul.

Domo sniffed the air. “I might have some of that.”

The bartender growled.

His friend leaned back, hands in the air. “Mead is fine.
Mead is fine.”

Gramm and Bena had returned to Soam's Crossing and stayed.
They made no claims so where they stayed mattered not to anyone who claimed the
stake. He had returned to Balis Port, his only two companions his horse Tila
and his donkey Sala. He had found himself on more than one occasion hugging his
horse and crying silently, petting her as he had stroked Tila's hair as she had
died.

“Turn around and go back, if you can,” he said to Domo. Then
he lost control and tears wet his cheeks.

*  *  *

He had paid for a room at the inn outside of Balis Port.
Ships left every day. He would pay for passage on the morrow. The room was
expensive, with only part of a roof. But the innkeeper he remembered passing
that first day had done a fine job of scavenging and making the mostly intact
tavern liveable.

He did not bother with the lantern and its golden glow. The
fire gave some light and warmth. He preferred using his magelight with its
familiar blue-white tint, and he did so now. He took off his robe, determined
to clean it. He took out the crumpled letter from Rashilla, placing it on the
small table. He was not sure if he wanted to read it.

But she would not be able to force him to anything through
words, would she? He stared down at the scroll. Of what was he afraid? Was he
afraid? If she demanded his return for the tenth ward, was not he of a mind to
refuse? What might she possibly say that would compel his return? She had no
more say over his decisions than Domo, or Gramm or the now-dead Talin.

He gently lifted the scroll and broke the seal. He sat on
the bed and brought his light directly overhead. Her writing was angular and
tight with a hint of force on the first letter of each word.

“To the Wizard of the Ninth Ward, Melaki,

I give my wishes that this finds you in health and
prosperity.

I had hoped that you would stay and we could explore the
extent of your power together. The Rukha feels your absence.”

He laughed. He remembered the jeers and insults as he had
left. Only those of the tenth ward and the Elets had been disappointed on that
final day. The Headmistress Renta had wanted him executed.

“Well, it is I that feels your absence most keenly. I had
thoughts of relocating to the Northlands to set up study there, but I am not
sure yet. What are your plans? Will you return to Altanles?”

He leaned back, looking up at his light. She would relocate?
She had been at the Rukha for decades, if not longer. With her silver hair, she
had to be at least four hundred years old. Maybe older.

“I find my thoughts filled with that time you hugged me
and I am overcome by what the future could hold. I would discover what might be
hidden, something dreadful in its absence, and fill the empty vessel between
us.

I await your response,

Rashilla, Wizard of the Tenth Ward”

He sighed and shook his head. Rashilla could not ever know
the truth. To do so would destroy him as surely as Talin would have destroyed
him.

He threw the scroll into the fire.

*  *  *

“Yes, captain,” Melaki said.

The captain of the boat was a fat man of quick moves. His
voice was loud. “Tomorrow, mid-day. I will take payment now.”

“And this is for myself and my animals?”

“It is. If you do not like the price, find another ship.
Iberia is a long ways off.”

“No, no, I just want to make sure we have the passage and
price right.” He deposited several valuable trinkets into the man's hand.
“Tomorrow it is.”

The captain grunted and shook his head.

No one ever wanted to go to the Iberian Savagelands except
the most daring and foolhardy traders.

But Melaki was going to go. He would make a new life there.
Someplace without the Altanlean Empire looking over his shoulder and delving
his magic.

*  *  *

Melaki looked up at the tavern door.

A familiar face entered.

“Gramm,” he called.

The angular man nodded, grinned and raised a hand. Then he
turned to the bartender and ordered up a drink.

Melaki watched him approach.

The merchant sat at his table and arranged his ridiculous
sword to hang over the back of the chair. “I see you are healthy...” Gramm's
gaze caught on his face.

“I can not heal myself. No wizard can heal himself.”

“Why not?”

He set down his cup of amber fire – whatever it was. “It is
like looking in a mirror. Things are not where they are supposed to be. What
looks like right in the mirror is really left. Everything is reversed and...
not right.”

Gramm shook his head, but a smile played at his lips. “You
are a strange wizard, for sure.”

“You, master merchant, are everything that I expect from a
member of the CoinMasters Guild.”

A grunt of approval from Gramm and the raising of his cup
said that his comment was satisfying.

“How is Bena?”

Gramm frowned. “Still shaken, but she will recover. She has
a hardy soul.”

Melaki nodded. “Good. She seemed like such a pleasant lady.
Very attentive and vibrant.”

Gramm nodded. “She is a gem, surely.”

“What brings you back to Balis Port?” Melaki sipped at his
drink.

“I need more supplies.”

“Your tobacco is good. I would have more.”

“No worries, friend. I will make sure you get your choice of
my supply when we leave here.”

“Ah good. I find a smoke of tobacco most satisfying when I
want to...”
When I want to be anywhere else but here. When I want to forget
what happened here.

The merchant nodded solemnly. “Gramm will take good care of
you. Do not fear.” He patted Melaki's hand.

Did he look so depressed that he garnered sympathy wherever
he went? Or was it the ugly wound on his cheek? But the wound was not something
of which to be proud. He could not tell people that he gained it fighting a
dragon or an evil demon of great power. No, he had received it figthing the
righteous indignation of a man seeking to do what he thought was right.

Whatever he thought of Talin, the wizard had stood for
principle and law right at the end. He had made a stand against the perceived
heresy. He had defended what he thought true. He had died for his convictions.

What separated one conviction from another? Did a wrong
conviction make a man wrong? Did the right conviction make one more of a man
than the one who had the wrong conviction?

“Where will you go?” Gramm said.

Should I tell him?
It was not a secret. “Iberia.”

His eyes lit up. “I have made a few runs there myself.”

“And you were welcome?”

The tall merchant shrugged, looking at the ceiling. “Well, a
merchant is almost always welcome where he goes and a smile does not hurt,
either.”

“They liked your tobacco?”

“Among other things. Altanlean glass trades very well
there.”

“Perhaps then I will be able to keep my supply of tobacco.”

“On that, I do not know. I go where the trade develops. But
perhaps looking for avenues of trade in Iberia might make my list.”

Melaki glanced at a soldier who was watching them.
What
does he want?
“What do you trade for when you are in Iberia?”

“Furs, mostly. Splendid furs. Sometimes silk, though the
price is very high.”

“I leave tomorrow. Perhaps I will buy some silk robes.” His
tone was dry.

Gramm chuckled. “Only if you want to dress as a woman.”

“The scandal.”

He laughed heartier until a hand descended on his shoulder.

He and Gramm looked up at the soldier who had been watching,
listening. There was something contained about the soldier and it came out in
the iron of his voice. “Perhaps my friend of the CoinMasters Guild would allow
me to take his seat.”

Melaki knew Gramm was a smart man. He was not a timid man.
The merchant could feel currents in conversations, words, and gestures and
could profit from them. He had been elected into the most prestigious merchants
guild in the Altanles Empire. Gramm immediately rose to his feet with a broad
smile.

“I do believe my companion was tiring of my blather about
trade,” the merchant said.

A curt nod from the soldier.

“May your day be prosperous, Melaki,” Gramm said. He bowed
his head slightly and left the table.

“As yours, friend.”

The soldier sat.

“Drink?” Melaki offered. An eyebrow was raised as if
doubting the soldier just wanted friendly company.

“You are Melaki, native of the Meseditt Empire. You are yet
newly raised to the Ninth Ward.”

Anyone could see the braiding on his sleeve. Anyone might
have heard his name, even without Gramm just using it. But to know he had been
a native of the Meseditt Empire spoke of secrets not usually told by anyone in
the empire.

He sat up straighter.

The soldier did not elaborate on his native stature.
Melaki's memory had been supposedly burned away. When the soldier changed the
subject, Melaki breathed a sigh of relief. A failed burning, though unheard of,
was probably grounds for execution in one holding such power as he did within
the empire. Wizards were considered equal to royalty.

“I am Roke, an agent to the emperor. I have use of you.” The
man's eyes were black and piercing. His hair was short. His armor was that of a
common soldier.

“I am not for hire.”

He said nothing, producing a rolled scroll tube. He dropped
the parchment out and unrolled it. The imperial seal and signatures shown
apparently gave the man authority equal to that of the marshal in command of
the Northlands.

Melaki raised his eyebrows. “This? Given to a common
soldier?” He could tell this was no common soldier. Something about the eyes
said so.

“It eases my way to travel in a common fashion. I see more,
hear more and accomplish more. Who cares to look at a common soldier?”

He nodded. “But I have said I am not for hire. I leave
tomorrow.”

“I have canceled your board.”

Melaki surged to his feet. “You what?”

The soldier grimaced and placed a pouch on the table. “Your
fee, though I had to threaten the captain to get a full refund. He wanted to
keep half.”