The Way of the Blade (22 page)

One-Eye roared and jumped on her. She kicked up, catching him in the groin, and thrust him back. In seconds, she was on her feet and charging him. A cross-strike with Viper came close to taking off the top of his head, but he ducked and lunged forward, catching her in the gut with his elbows.

She tried to stay upright, but he kept pushing forward. Her lungs burned as she struggled for air. She kept her feet scrambling backwards. One-Eye pushed faster. He was too close-in to effectively use Viper, and those snakes kept jutting their head at her, snapping their sharp teeth.

She stepped back again — but only found air.

In the seconds that followed, the seconds that she fell through the air, she moved fast and pure. All instinct. Even as she saw the sadistic smile cross One-Eye’s face, her left hand snatched hold of a single snake’s neck. One-Eye’s smile dropped as she pulled him down with her. Her right hand spun Viper until its point jabbed into the stone wall.

She let One-Eye go and grabbed Viper with both hands. The awful scraping sound, the sparks shooting off, One-Eye’s garbled cursing — all of it drifted away. Instead, Malja thought only of a soft landing. A gentle, slow touch on the ground like a leaf from a tree landing in the morning dew.

From the corner of her eye, she saw One-Eye remembering that he could fly, and before he flattened into the ground, he put out his arms like wings and swooped away. Viper continued to slow her descent but not enough to save her. Still, she focused on this single image — a leaf riding the softest hint of air down.

When she smacked into the ground, her legs didn’t break nor did the jolt reach up and crack her teeth against each other. She hit hard, but her do-kha managed to absorb much of the blow. She stared at the do-kha a moment, her heart swelling at the idea that she had finally succeeded in controlling the thing when it mattered. And if she could do that, then perhaps she could really make this do-kha do all it was capable of — even open portals.

Shouting from the road. More Scarites were closing in. She tugged on Viper three times until she got it loose from the wall.

Breathing hard, sweat dripping down her face, she threw away the idea of making a stand. Difficult odds were one thing, but with the size of that army waiting nearby, she would never survive. She turned to run when she saw One-Eye floating above. His snakes reared back and shot bolts of electricity at her. She tried to dodge, but her body had taken too much abuse. The bolt struck her in the thigh. She screamed out, even as she attempted to limp away. One-Eye lowered enough to block her way.

Behind her, she could hear the others approaching. They quickly made a circle around her. She held Viper firm and her face stoic. Despite the fire in her leg, she couldn’t let them see any weakness.

“Give up,” One-Eye said, his voice rich and gritty. “Too many of us for one person. Even you.”

“Maybe. But the first three or four of you who attack are going to die with me. I guarantee that much.”

“But we have magic.”

Malja snarled. “I didn’t say you’d have to come in after me. I can kill four of you from right here.”

The Scarites all took a step back. One-Eye raised a hand straight in the air. “Don’t let her scare you. We have a true god on our side. Not a frail impostor like this one.”

A scrawny fellow with only one snake curled limp over his shoulder jumped out of the crowd. “I don’t need magic for her.” He sprinted at her with nothing but a rock in his hand.

Even injured, Malja had no trouble cutting the Scarite down. One swift strike across the abdomen. She never took her eyes off One-Eye.

His face twisted, his muscles tightened, and his snakes stiffened. “Kill her!”

Malja lowered her stance and picked out her targets. As she drew Viper back, the air flashed red and an awful squawk filled her ears. All the Scarites bent over, clasping their ears, as they backed away.

When the terrible sound ceased, they all looked up at the wide balcony above. Harskill stood with his hand spread on the railing. “I promised Malja safe passage, and we will honor that promise. Everyone return to the camp.”

One-Eye jabbed a stubby finger. “But she was trying to escape.”

“Do I ever go back on my promises?”

That stubby finger traced the long scar on One-Eye’s face. “No, sir. Sorry.” He hurried to join the other departing soldiers.

Harskill kept his eyes on his army. “Malja, there is a talionog waiting for you in the stables to the east. Do you need any assistance?”

“No,” she said, wondering if he knew she had initially intended to murder him.

“Then take the beast and get out of here. I suppose the next time I see you will be on the battlefield.”

“I suppose.”

“Think on what I’ve shown you, what I’ve said. We could stop this all with our abilities.”

“By taking over? By becoming gods to all the worlds?”

“Exactly.”

Malja put Viper away. She limped off to the east, shaking her head, and holding her tongue.

Chapter 22

Javery

The control sticks shimmied in Javery’s hand. He looked down and noticed his fingers vibrating to the motion. Making sure not to shift his weight too dramatically, he inspected the autofly. Everything he could see from the seat looked in order. The sticks shimmied again.

“Just a little further,” he whispered to the autofly. He had been able to see the island of Pali in the distance for the last twenty minutes. At his current speed, he expected to reach land in at least ten.

The autofly dropped. Javery’s stomach climbed up his throat, and he tasted bitter acids. When the autofly stabilized, his stomach slammed back to where it belonged. Sweat trickled down the side of his face. He surveyed the area around — nothing but ocean.

All the autoflys had suffered some damage from the battle, but this one had appeared to be in decent shape. Of course, the legend suggested that the Pali Witch’s magic disrupted all other magic around her, so perhaps the autofly worked fine. Perhaps the magic that kept it in the air was being messed with. If the Pali Witch even existed.

Stroking the side of the autofly, Javery said, “You can do this. Just hold out for a little —”

He heard a metallic clank, and the control sticks froze. The autofly’s nose dipped forward, and the ship sank through the sky. Wind rushed into his face, chilling the sweat on his skin. With both hands on one control stick, he pulled hard, but the controls refused to budge. He kicked at the other stick, slamming his foot into the handle, and saw it slip an inch.

The autofly banked right and began a slow, circular winding. A spiral down to the waiting waters below.

At least I won’t die now.
But while the change in direction slowed his descent, the impact would still be hard. As he watched the endless, deep blue waters come closer, he removed his lap belt.

Standing proved a challenge, but with his hand holding the edge, he managed to balance enough. Almost time. He could see the tiny bits of white cap on the water. Bending his legs slightly, he took a deep breath.

And he jumped.

When he kicked off, he sent the autofly spinning away like a toy.
Good
. He wanted to be as far from that hunk of metal as he could manage when he hit the water. Which would be any second. Straightening his legs, he pointed his toes downward, and did his best to strike like a spear — straight and true.

Before he felt the pain, Javery felt the cold. Icy water surrounded him while air bubbles played along his skin. Then the harsh pain raced up his leg and into the back of his skull. He screamed out, only to hear his cries muted by tons of ocean. Using his arms, he swam to the surface. He tried kicking to speed his ascent, but one stroke brought a tortuous burn in his right foot and leg and thigh.

Bursting from the water, he gasped for breath — coughing and spitting up while attempting to stay afloat. Despite the strong urge to flail, the desire to inhale as fast as possible, he willed himself to calm. Slow, deep breaths. He spread his arms out and gazed up at the clouds. Floating on his back, he let the world ease around him.

Though his leg throbbed, he turned over and tread water long enough to locate the island of Pali. Not as far away as he thought. Not too close either. Returning to his back, he used his arms to row in the only direction that offered hope.

Salt water trickled down his throat. Sounds rose and fell with the waves — covering his ears, uncovering his ears, over and over. He counted each stroke. When he hit fifty, he turned over, tread water, and made sure he hadn’t gone off course.

Twice he thought of stopping, of letting his body float, of trusting in Carsite to see him to the shore. Twice he rejected those thoughts. Only one way existed to survive — himself. So he kept paddling his arms, pushing his body, ignoring the pain knotting in his shin, his knee, his hip.

And then, as if the hand of Carsite acknowledged his efforts and decided to grant him salvation, a wave grew at his feet and pushed him hard. He rose with it, and after it passed him by, another came. And another. Each one going in the same direction.

He rolled over and saw Pali’s shoreline within reach. These waves weren’t just the ocean bobbing him around. This was a tide, pushing straight for the island shore.

Though it still took him a half-hour, he eventually rolled onto the sandy beach. He lay there, the tide washing over him, and he let his arms relax. The pain pulsing from his shoulders down to his fingers muted the aches in his leg, but not for long.

At length, he sat up. He inspected his leg. Purple bruises covered the poor thing, and it looked thicker than his other one. He slid backwards until he reached a fallen tree trunk. Wincing before he even started, he pulled himself up and stood on his good leg. Tenderly, he increased the weight on his bad leg.

He screamed and passed out.

The sun had set. Javery shivered in his damp robes with his teeth chattering and lips taking on an unnatural shade of blue. He had managed to stand again, leaning against the log, unsure of how to proceed. Druzane would know what to do. Well, she’d have an opinion, at least.

“No,” he shouted, and his voice echoed across the sea.
No
. He couldn’t let his mind sink into that mire of regret. He would never get out.
I’ve got to think
.

If the witch was only a legend, then he died the moment he had left for Pali. That wasn’t an acceptable outcome. So, he had no choice — the witch had to exist. And if the witch existed, then according to the legends, she lived up in the steep mountains. That’s where he had to go. But with a busted leg, the idea seemed laughable.
Except if I stay here, I’ll die before morning
.

To his right, he saw several broken branches from the fallen tree. They were far from perfect, but he didn’t need perfect — merely serviceable. Moving slow and careful so as not to jostle his leg, he sidled next to the thickest branch and lifted it. Not too bad. He trimmed off the twigs and broke away a side branch. What remained fit snug under his arm.

He paused, took a deep breath, and pushed off the log. Pain shot up his leg — but not like before. Unpleasant, certainly, but he could manage. He took a few small steps, leaning heavily on the branch. It held his weight, and as long as he kept a slow pace, the painful spikes never rose above a steady, numbing throb.

Little by little, he walked along the shore with his makeshift crutch until he found an opening into the cold, rocky land deeper within.

The path cut back and forth up into the mountains. Not much of a path, really — mostly an area where nothing grew, beaten down by the occasional traveler. Not enough travelers, though, to make a true path. In fact, weeds and saplings poked through repeatedly.

Gray rock speckled with reds and greens loomed from the sides. Some formed arches overhead. Others curved over as if he walked under the broken ribs of a long dead giant.

Sweat poured down Javery’s back and sides. He only noticed as it chilled his soaked body even more. It stung his eyes and seeped between his lips. His hands slipped on the crutch’s uneven surface, cutting his palms and fingers.

As the hours passed, he pushed on, repeating a simple mantra —
one more step
. The sun had set, and the moonlight provided only a dim view of the area. As he walked on, he heard an odd crunch. Another step, another crunch. The ground gave way with each crunching step, and the hairs on his arms stiffened.

Javery hobbled over to a large rock and sat. He stared into the empty darkness, his mind equally blank, and he breathed. Part of him wanted to do that and nothing more — ever. Just breathe and let the world spin.

He shivered and shook off the idea. Bending down, he reached for the ground, trying to find out what caused that crunch. The answer came as his fingers locked on a human skull. More skulls and ribs and spines and bones of all kinds covered the path.

“Crug, how many people have failed trying to find this witch?”