Skymaster, p.3
Skymaster, page 3
part #3 of The Guildmaster Saga Series
The captain's expression cleared at once, then darkened again. "The crew can take care of itself. Anyone foolish enough to attack sea witches next to a harbor deserves what they get. The city will be fine, with us to protect it."
Rasim reeled back, staring at Nasira. Pieces fell into place in his mind like water drops falling into the sea, becoming a part of a whole. "You're right. Nobody would do that. Which means they're not after the city, Captain. They're after the crew. After all of the Ilyaran witches who are here right now. I'd bet my journeyman's stripes on it."
"Slavers?" Nasira's face was pale. "But who told them we were here?"
"We sailed to the Northlands with a certain amount of fanfare, Captain," Endat replied. "Our presence here is hardly a secret. After the Seamasters' cleansing of the water supply, there was little else spoken of in the city. And Rasim has just ably demonstrated that speech and ships are far from the only way to send messages across great distances."
"Most of us are quartered near the docks." Rasim pulled out of Nasira's grip again. "We have to get down there. We have to—"
"No one can subdue a barracks full of Seamasters, Rasim. They don't know what they're dealing with."
"Of course they do!" Anger flashed through Rasim again, but he didn't turn back. All that kept him from running was an awareness of Endat's slower pace, but his feet itched and he didn't know how long he could keep himself to a walk. "If they're the same people who've taken your old ship's crew, of course they know how to deal with Seamasters. They'll have drugged them with mindkiller in their food or drink, and they'll command them not to use their magic and—" He burst into a run, leaving the adults behind. "Go find Inga and tell her what's going on!" he shouted over his shoulder. "I'll get the crew!"
Everyone at the palace was running. Soldiers, servants, nobility—people from every rank carried weapons and shields, or wore hastily-donned armor, as they flooded through the tall grey halls and toward the city streets. Others swept children inside, toward safety, while others still prepared for the inevitable injuries that came with battle. Very few of them seemed afraid. Mostly they looked angry or determined. Rasim raced with the outgoing tide of people, for once glad for his small stature. It made it easier to duck under elbows and squeeze through narrow spaces between hurrying bodies. Someone shouted his name, but he ignored it.
The courtyard, when he broke through the palace's sweeping doors, was startlingly empty: warriors racing for the harbor wasted no time there. From the palace's vantage, the city looked as if it had grown out of the rocks and mountains that made up the Northlands' shorelines. Grey blocks rose squat and square with white-capped roofs, just like the mountains above them. And like the mountains, they revealed surprising depth of color and shadow when sunlight fell on them, dazzling snow rich with blue highlights and cobbled streets thrown into sharp relief. Rasim caught his breath at its beauty even as he skidded across the courtyard and raced, half-falling, down the steep roads toward the harbor.
The streets were full of people, but their movements surged and roiled, a moving battle instead of the camaraderie of a market day. Rasim skidded through them, stopping on a corner to decide where should go, then bolted toward the inn that Sesin and Seamaster Usia were staying at. As healers, they might be able to shake off the effects of the mindkiller drug, which forced those who had taken it to use magic as they were commanded, rather than as they wished. He ducked fights, squirming between bodies and trying hard not to see who stood between himself and his goal. If he looked, if he saw faces he knew embroiled in battle, he would never be able to keep going. He needed reinforcements, but aside from himself and Captain Nasira, the only other sea witches who had been staying at the palace were mucking about in the sewer tunnels beneath the palace. Rasim could have killed Desimi and Kisia for deciding to play their stupid game. Without them, his only hope was the healers.
The inn was shockingly dark after the snow-reflected sunshine, but even through the dimness Rasim saw that the common room's tables and chairs were overturned and splintered. The bar counter was broken into pieces, too, with flagons spilled and ale dripping on the floor or across plates half-filled with cooling food. An open stairway, barely more than a black hole in the dimness, led up. Rasim raced across the room toward it, then smashed hard into an unseen door as it opened unexpectedly beside the stairwell.
Sesin, wide-eyed with laughter and apology, appeared from inside the door, a basket of dry clothes on her hip. "Rasim! Are you all right? What—" Her gaze went beyond him to the ransacked common room and her question turned to a gasp. "What's going on?"
"Sesin!" Rasim grabbed her hand and pulled her up the stairs, desperate to find safety somewhere. "Where were you? Didn't you hear the fighting? Thank Siliaria that you didn't," he added, quiet but heartfelt.
"I was washing clothes. They've got a clever system to pump the water—" Sesin broke off again, realizing it wasn't important. "It's all stone and oak down there. Quietest place in the building. What's going on?"
"We're under attack and they're using the mindkiller drug. Probably nobody who's been at the palace has been drugged, but out of the rest of the crew, I'm hoping you healers might be immune."
"Mindkiller," Sesin echoed. "The drug that means you can't use your magic without being told to?"
"Right. I'm going to try to make you do something. Make yourself sneeze."
Sesin's nose turned red and an explosive sneeze erupted as they ran into the room that had become the Seamasters' infirmary. She stopped, astonished, and pressed her fingers against her face. "What was that?"
"You're drugged," Rasim said grimly. "We need to find something to block your ears so you can't take orders while we figure out if you can clear it from your system." He shot a glance out the window, watching fights meet in the street. "And unless you can do it right now—clear the drug from your system, Sesin!" he said hopefully, but then went on, "then we should probably get out of here. Do you know where Usia is?"
"Here, journeyman." The door banged open, Usia's thick frame filling it. "Clever lad, coming for the healers. I wish you hadn't, though." His spoke through his teeth, straining as if he pulled the weight of a ship behind him. "Run, Rasim. Run!"
Panic seized Rasim's breath. "Master Usia, wait—"
Usia lifted one hand, made a fist, and crushed the strength from Rasim's heart.
4
The shock was almost worse than the pain. Rasim's breath went out of him as stars danced behind his eyes. It hurt, hurt worse than even diving deep with the sea serpent had. His knees gave out and he dropped, hand still over his heart. He had to respond. That was obvious, but gathering his thoughts enough to try seemed impossible. Dimly, through a roaring in his ears, he heard Sesin cry out, and Usia say, "Sesin, come here to me."
She did, at a run, her hands lifted to pummel the older healer. Usia caught her easily, then gave a frustrated snarl as Rasim felt, faintly, the weight of Sesin's magic come into play. For the space of a blink her magic alleviated the pain in Rasim's chest, but Usia whispered, "Siliaria forgive me. Stop using witchery, Sesin," and to Rasim's horror, she did.
She said something Rasim couldn't hear above the pounding in his ears. Usia's face twisted with pain and he spoke again, inaudibly, before pushing Sesin out the door behind him. Rasim clawed his fingers against the stone floor, trying desperately to concentrate, but the sound of the sea in his head drowned out almost all possibility of thinking. He managed a thin breath around the pain and used it to whisper, "Siliaria."
The heart-wrenching agony stopped so fast Rasim fell face-first onto the floor, unable to believe the relief. After a ragged gasp or two, he flung himself onto his back, staring wet-eyed and exhausted at the door. It wouldn't have surprised him, he thought, if Siliaria herself had stood there, somehow punishing one sea witch for harming another.
Instead, Sesin stood above Usia's prone form with a stubby, smoking length of wood gripped in her hands. Her eyes were huge and dismayed, but her grip on the doused torch was certain. "I had to," she said to Rasim, or maybe to the room at large. "I tried to use my witchery and I couldn't, but there were torches along the wall outside. I had to," she said again. Then she dropped the torch and ran for Rasim. She fell to her knees beside him, hands dancing across his chest in light, useless gestures.
"Heal me," Rasim suggested, then shut his eyes to hide the way the room danced and spun. "If you can," he added. "Don't hurt yourself trying."
The torn, beaten feeling inside his chest lessened almost immediately, as Sesin's power soothed the damage done by the master healer. When he could breathe more easily, Rasim dared open his eyes. "Thanks. What should we do about him?" He nodded toward Usia.
Sesin followed his gaze. "He said he was sorry, just before he threw me out of the room. Well, I'm sorry too, but we have to leave him there and run."
"Run where?" Even as he asked, the fighting outside surged and crashed against the inn's front door. Rasim flinched to his feet, eyeing the windows. They were big enough to fit through down here, in the main room, but there was no point in climbing out them straight into the fight. "Is there a back way in?"
"At the other end of the hall upstairs, yes." Sesin got up too, then stalked to a nearby table where candles dripped wax. She balled some of it up, tucking it into her ears, then looked defiant. "There. I can still kind of hear, but that should help."
Rasim curled a smile. "And I thought I was supposed to be the clever one. Can you hear me?"
"Sort of. I can tell what you're saying if I look at your lips. And you are clever. How are we going to get out of here?" She offered her hand, and they ran up the stairs together, Rasim discovering that his whole body ached. He felt wobbly and had the worst headache he could remember, but at least his heart was beating properly.
A long hall lined with doors stretched back from the stairs. They raced for the other end, clattering down the second set of stairs to a back door barred from the inside. After exchanging glances, they lifted the bar, and Sesin opened the door a little.
Almost immediately, somebody slammed into it, knocking it father open. The person outside scrambled against the door, trying to get in. Rasim and Sesin threw their weight against it and barred it shut again, then leaned against it, panting and staring at one another. "The rooms have windows, right?"
Sesin's expression went dubious. "Yeah, but they're narrow. I don't think we'll fit."
The inn, like virtually all of Hongrunn's buildings, was made of stone. Rasim could use witchery on the windows, if necessary. "We'll have to. I'll go first, because nobody can catch me off-guard and command my witchery. I can protect you that way."
"The idea of you being able to protect anybody, Rasim..." Sesin smiled and shook her head, obviously pleased through her astonishment. "All right. You go."
They ran back upstairs, testing the doors as they went. The second one opened, and Rasim raced to the window, dragging the window's single shutter open. Cold winter wind blasted him in the face. It tasted of snow and salt, and for the space of a breath Rasim wished for nothing more than to be back in Ilyara, where nothing ever tasted of snow or cold, and the salt water scent came on warm breezes.
He muttered, "Only way to get home is through that window," and clambered out.
It was a tight squeeze, and he was small. Sesin wasn't much bigger, but a little bit in any direction might be too much. He exhaled and pressed at the stone with witchery, all too aware of Sesin's eyes on him. So far only Kisia suspected he could use more than one magic. Rasim had become all too aware that despite it the Ilyaran king hoping that young witches could learn to do just this, the reality of it could unsettle the whole Ilyaran social structure. He wasn't looking forward to trying to explain himself, later.
Of course, if he and Sesin didn't fit through the window, there wouldn't be much of a later. The stone gave slightly, making the shutter creak and shift. Rasim could take a full breath now, and figured that would give Sesin room to squish through. He slithered out, peering up and down the street.
Now that he was willing to look, he could see it was full of brown-skinned sea witches fighting against big pale Northerners, and against others whose clothes suggested they came from the Islands. There were some he didn't recognize by coloring or clothing, but they, too, fought his crewmates. But the important thing was the fights were physical: fists and feet, elbows and knees. Not one of the Ilyarans used the witchery they were known for. Instead, the others leapt on the Ilyarans one by one, subduing and chaining them, then rising up to move on to the next.
The noise was amazing, like flocks of gulls screeching over choice bits of fish guts. No one was looking up, though, or paying much attention to anything beyond the battle surging down the street. Rasim squirmed out, hung by his fingertips, and then dropped a hideously long distance to the stones below. He hit with a thud and fell onto his back, narrowly avoiding cracking his head on the street. Someone nearly stepped on him and he leaped up, plastering himself against the inn wall, and peeked toward Sesin.
Her face was pale as she looked down at him. Belatedly, Rasim recalled that it had only been a few weeks since she'd had the bad fall off the Waifia's crow's nest, and that heights had bothered her ever since. He crooked his fingers encouragingly. Her mouth set with determination and she gave one quick nod before thrusting herself out the window with a little too much force. Rasim hopped back a step and didn't so much catch her as provide a softer landing place. Their heads bashed together, and Rasim's also bounced off the stone street as Sesin's weight took them both to the ground. He saw stars and tasted blood as Sesin pulled him up, her expression apologetic. Rasim gave her a wavering smile and they slipped down the street, still clutching each other's hands.
The weight of witchery chased them, icy harbor water rising beyond the seawall and clawing at their feet. Rasim pushed it away, but using magic made his head hurt more. A rough, almost-silent laugh escaped him. It would be stupid to get caught now, just because of a bump on the head, but he didn't want to waste time being healed. He pushed Sesin along and turned, shouting, "Ilyarans! Fight back with your magic!"
His voice boomed down the streets and across the water with far more strength than he expected. Dizziness swept him again. Sesin grabbed his upper arm, hauling him away as some of the Waifia's crew begin to do as he commanded. The fight turned in their favor, then almost as quickly, turned again as other voices shouted counter-commands.
Rasim cursed helplessly. He couldn't stand there all day shouting countermands. Even if he could, his own experience with mindkiller told him that it worked most effectively when orders were given by someone in a position of authority. His booming shout had given him that air, but his was a boy's voice, and the drugged witches would be less able to heed him than those who had drugged them.
A surge broke through the nearest edge of fighting. Whip-slim warriors in light padded armor left the crew members behind and sprang toward Rasim and Sesin. Sesin shrieked and pulled Rasim into a run. Halfway up the street, she leaped toward an inn window, swarming up rough-cut stone walls like they were a ship's rigging. Rasim followed less gracefully, his head still aching too much for him to move fast. Sesin dug her fingers into a narrow gutter and heaved. Then she was over the edge of the roof, lying on her belly and offering Rasim help.
He caught one quick glimpse of the warriors behind them as he seized her hand. They were armed with slender swords and short, powerful bows that they nocked without slowing their run. Panic turned Rasim's blurred vision to sharp focus, and he grunted as Sesin pulled him onto the roof. They fumbled upward on the stone-tiled slant, both of them cursing.
Northern roofs were all angled. It made sense: snow would slide off the roofs instead of bearing down and breaking them under its weight. But trying to climb tilted, ice-slicked tiles made Rasim wish for flat Ilyaran roofs. Safety was on the far side of the roof's crest, but neither he nor Sesin could get a decent grip on the slick surface. Rasim's shoulder blades itched with the knowledge that archers stood below him. He didn't know why they hadn't fired yet. He and Sesin should be full of holes. They were easy targets, barely moving and in the open. But they were also Ilyaran witches. Maybe they were too valuable to shoot down like birds. Rasim smashed his palm against the frozen stone, fear and frustration heating his whole body.
Frozen stone. He was an idiot, not clever after all. He would never think to use stonemastery as naturally as seawitchery. He sent magic outward, let it flow into the patient tiles, and was somehow still surprised when divots appeared in them, giving the two journeymen a chance to grip the roof and scramble upward.
Sesin didn't seem to notice that the divots were new. She only gasped in relief and dug her fingers in, pulling herself upward. Rasim twisted on the rooftop, hanging on by the fingertips of one hand, and spread the fingers of the other toward the stone tiles and gutters beneath him. It wouldn't take much of a shield to protect them from the arrows, if only he'd thought of it soon enough.
He didn't like working with stone, he decided half a breath later. Water let him know it was responding, but stone remained inert until suddenly it wasn't. He had no sense of the roof tiles accepting his witchery; they were just flat, and then they were a thin wall climbing upward. The archers below vanished from view, but their voices rose up in anger and surprise.
A hail of arrows finally battered his shield. Cracks appeared in it, the arrows' force much greater than Rasim had expected, but they only needed a few seconds to get away. He flipped on his belly again, looking up the roof.
Sesin lay pinned to the tiles, an arrow through her shoulder.
The chill of the roof tiles suddenly ate through his stomach, making him empty and cold all the way through. He pulled himself to Sesin's side and lodged his feet against a broken tile so he wouldn't slide away again. "Sesi..."
