The Way of the Blade (29 page)

“We’re ready,” Krunlo said from behind.

Malja stepped back into the building and followed him to the war room — the same room that had both protected and imprisoned the townspeople during the Scarite attack. Fawbry, Tommy, Canto, and several men Malja did not know all encircled a table fashioned out of a door. On this table they had placed a torn map of the area.

“Have the scouts returned yet?” Malja asked.

Canto raised a finger to his lips. Making eye contact with Krunlo and then each of the men in the room, Canto said, “You have all placed your trust in me, and I am grateful. But I have seen in these last few days that I know too little about warfare. To lead this town through a healthy growing season, to manage our funds and pronounce judgment over our troubles, these things I understand well. Not war.”

“You’re a fine leader,” one man said.

“We need more than that. We need a great leader right now. One who has experienced battle and understands the tactics required to win. One who has shown bravery and caring for our people. Though initially a stranger to us, I ask you to trust me once more when I suggest to you that we need a General to lead us through this war.”

Malja had heard this type of speech before. A leader searching for that delicate balance between giving up control during the battle and maintaining power for after. Canto had done a fine job as far as she could tell. She only hoped he was smart enough not to pick her. She had been the General many times in her life, and often it had been a smart assignment. This time, however, she needed to be on the ground, in the thick of it. The Carsites lacked enough skilled warriors to risk placing her in the back.

Canto placed a hand on his stomach. “Please accept my decision, and for this battle ahead of us, I urge you to follow the lead of General Fawbry.”

As the men all bowed with hands on stomachs, Fawbry reciprocated the gesture though it looked awkward with his stump. He winked at Malja, she smiled, and then he pointed to the map. “According to those two brave girls scouting for us, the Scarite camp is sitting along the coastline here. They’ve built an impromptu town out of tents and whatever they could scavenge in the nearby area. The prison where they are holding our men appears to be this building — a stone ruin that they’ve fortified with wood and, most likely, snake-magic.”

Though he spoke with power, Malja kept catching Fawbry’s eyes shifting on her. She knew exactly what he needed. “Okay, General Fawbry, what should we do?”

Fawbry studied the map, visibly relaxing into his new role. He tapped the stump of his arm as he thought. “We don’t have the numbers on our side. And from what I’ve seen and from what you’ve told us, we have inferior weapons.”

“All true.”

“Except for the warship. They don’t know about that, and they’ll have no idea how powerful it can be.”

“Do we?”

Fawbry looked to Krunlo. The burly man huffed and rubbed his nose. “Powerful enough.”

“I think,” Fawbry said, “that our best chance will be to take the majority of our force and attack head on.”

Canto bumped the table. “That’s crazy. We’ll be destroyed.”

“While the main force attacks, Malja and you will rescue our men.”

Malja clicked her tongue. “Using the main force like a diversion. It’s a dangerous gamble, but Harskill certainly won’t expect that.”

“Once you’ve freed our men, you’ll have created a small force which you can use to flank the enemy that is battling us in the main attack.”

“And what then?” Canto said.

Fawbry tossed his wiry hair out of his eyes. “One thing I’ve learned over my years with Malja — no plan lasts in battle. I’ve got a few ideas of things we can do, but in the end, we’ll have to see how it all comes down when we’re there.”

“What? You want us to leave it to chance.”

Malja smacked her hand down on the map before an uproar could begin. “This is a good plan, and Fawbry — your General — is right about how all plans fall apart in battle.” She looked over at Fawbry. “These men, however, need to know the whole thing even if it never gets executed that way. It’s an important part of a battle. That way, when things do go awry, each man will have some idea of what should be happening, what they are trying to accomplish. Understand?”

Fawbry nodded with vigor. “My apologies.”

To Canto, Malja added, “Don’t worry. Your men are in excellent hands. General Fawbry will do a great job. He just needs to remember that this battle is on a grander scale than those he and I have fought in the past. When it was only the three of us, improvisation was easier to accomplish.”

“Yes,” Fawbry said. “I see that now. Please, Canto, Krunlo, everyone — gather around and allow me to present the entire battle plan.”

“Tommy, too,” Malja said, waving Tommy closer to the map. “After Fawbry, Tommy’s the next most experienced man you’ve got.”

Malja caught the flash of joy on Tommy’s face. Fawbry nodded agreement, his eyes never lifting from the table, and said, “I have a very unique mission for Tommy. And it’s going to be the key to us having any serious chance of success.”

Malja took Canto by the arm and led him out of the building. “We’re not part of that plan,” she said to his protests. “Fawbry’s going to create an opportunity for us. That I don’t doubt. We’ve got to come up with a way to succeed with our task, with what we’re going to do with the opportunity your General has given us.”

Canto gazed up at the warship hovering over the town. “Then let’s get started.”

Chapter 32

Javery

Javery skimmed across the ocean surface. With the sea air blowing in his face and the heels of his feet touching the water on occasion, he crossed the miles towards the shore and the war he would end.

When he visited the Mountain Well and offered his blood, he had intended to drain all the magic it could produce. Eventually, however, he passed out with his bleeding hand hanging off a rock. He had no clear idea of how much magic entered him while he lay unconscious, but he felt it surging through him with each breath.

The world brightened each time his lungs filled. He could smell the fish as they passed beneath him, and he listened to the clouds as the blew across the sky. This was what he had needed all along. This real power to change the world.

Javery halted and stared down at the ocean. His feet, scorched and bleeding, stung when the waves splashed against him. His legs had become bone-thin and looked composed of mud and stone. Jagged tusks grew from his elbows. The Carsites would never recognize him now, but he knew they’d understand his magic — they would bow down before him like servants of the god he had become.

He snapped out his hand and raised it high. A drotty, a silver fish the size of his leg, burst from the waters and struggled in the air four feet above. Like a fish hooked on a line, the drotty wrenched its body every way it could manage in a desperate attempt to free itself. Javery clenched his fingers into a fist, and the drotty imploded, its mashed body stuck in the air.

He let the dead remains drop back into the ocean. And he smiled. The Witch had been right — he needed time to learn how to use all his magic, but he discovered that his body understood a lot by instinct, as if he had the power within him all along and the Well had merely awakened his dormant abilities.

Except part of him believed that all of this had to be new. He could barely keep up with the thoughts in his brain, let alone the instinctive reactions of his body.

He tasted the change first — a bitter, copper flavor in his mouth. Then he heard all the fish avoid the spot a few hundred feet away. He slid across the water until he reached the area. Before he managed to consciously connect his thoughts, he flew into the air, turned over and dived straight down. All on instinct.

Splashing into the ocean, his body pushed him deeper down while a protective bubble encircled him. He never slowed — magic propelled him. When he lowered to the depths that even sunlight failed to reach, he knew what his body had sensed.

Another Great Well. More magic to absorb. With this new magic in his system, the Scarites might simply die just by looking at him.

Javery’s lips rose as his heart quickened. He could picture it all with ease.

“I’m a god.”

Chapter 33

Malja

The sun shone bright in the clear, morning air. The temperature mild. A perfect day for a stroll with a lover or a family picnic or a battle for the survival of a people.

The warship crept across the jagged landscape, its keel scraping the tallest rock formations as it passed by. Many of the townspeople stood on the ship’s deck. Some wore armor, others had weapons strapped across their chests, but most looked much as they had the day Malja first met them — light robes and thin shoes. The real difference rested in their faces. They peered towards the ocean with harsh, deadly expressions. They looked like soldiers who knew battle.

Behind the warship flew every operable autofly the Carsites owned. Fifty-seven — including a few luxury models that would be too slow to fight but at least bolstered their numbers. Krunlo led this air force, sitting tall in his autofly, his face beaming.

“There,” one of the women said, pointing toward the horizon.

All those on deck grew quiet. In the distance, the Scarite army waited. Even though Malja had seen the army before, watching it alongside the Carsites brought to her heart just how enormous a force they faced. The enemy stretched far off in either side from their camp like an endless wall.

Canto stepped up beside Malja. “You really think we can do this?”

“If Fawbry’s plan works, we’ll have a chance. That’s more than I’ve often had going into battle.”

They could now see that Harskill had broken the army into three divisions, each headed by one of the toughest snake-magic users he had — Red Head, One-Eye, and Ten Snakes. Each division stood at attention as if they had been training for months.
Perhaps they have,
Malja considered.

The Carsites on deck stood silently, their faces still locked with determination, but slight twitches broke the facade. One girl dropped her sword, the clatter loud amongst all the quiet. Malja wondered how much more of this tense waiting these people could handle.

She walked over to Fawbry. “It’s going to be fine.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “I’m not a fool. This will be anything but fine. I just don’t want it to be our total slaughter.”

“It won’t.”

“These people are counting on me. How do you do this? How do you send us all off into these battles when you know by Kryssta and Korstra and all that’s holy, you know most, maybe all of us, won’t be coming back?”

Malja let her gaze drift over the heads of all the young women staring at their enemy. “You do it because there’s no other choice. If we could get the Carsite and Scarites to solve this some other way, if we didn’t have Harskill playing god, if we knew where Javery was and had his mind helping us, maybe there would be another way. But it is this way. So, we must do our best with it.”

“Even when we know our chances are dismal?”

“You’ve got a sound plan and people who are fighting because they are desperate. That’s a good combination. You also have plenty of experience. More than you realize. I think they were wise to make you their General.”

“I don’t feel wise.”

She chuckled. “I never do, either. Trust your instincts and you’ll do fine.”

“At least I have you out there fighting. That gives me some hope.”

“I’ll get done everything you’ve asked me to do. Have no doubt.”

“Okay. Thank you. Um, one last question.”

“Hmm?”

“Do I have to give an inspiring speech?”

Malja ruffled Fawbry’s hair. “Aw, the little boy is afraid of getting up in front of everyone.”

“You know that’s not the case.”

She did. Normally, Fawbry would jump at the chance to take the stage and have all eyes on him — especially women’s eyes. But this wasn’t normal. She had seen leaders act this way in the past. Some simply needed to stay focused on keeping as many soldiers alive as possible.

She placed a hand on Fawbry’s back. “No need for a speech. Just give them an order and the rest will happen on its own.”

Fawbry clasped his stump behind his back and strode toward the helmsman. All eyes followed him, and Malja suppressed a grin. When he reached a spot about twenty feet away, he said in a voice clear and strong, “Take us in closer.” To the rest, he said, “Do not engage the enemy. Even when we are in range. Hold your fire. We only get one chance at this. Be prepared, but hold your fire.”

Nobody moved. The reality of what was to happen settled in the air between each person like a mud that slowed their ability to move, even to think. Malja had seen this plenty, too.

She jumped in front of Fawbry, and yelled out, “Come on, now! You heard the orders. Let’s move! Those with ranged weapons, take your positions. Those manning the guns below deck, get your asses down there. We’re closing in, so be ready. And for Carsite’s sake, wait for the order to fire!”