The Road To Kalbakar, Wyrms of Pasandir #1

CHAPTER 17 - CARAVAN (Part 1)

'So we are agreed,' I said. 'Kellani, Naudin, and I go punch that caravan. Meanwhile, Mazuun gets his men into position. Amaj and Jem will go with him and act as our contact. When we have the caravan, we ride to the keep, enter and shut down the screens. We'll tell Amaj, who tells Mazuun and the lord's men retake the keep. All clear?'

I looked around the faces of the others. Of course they knew; I repeated everything for Mazuun's sake. I had my doubts about both his intellect and his nerves, and I hoped Amaj being present would stiffen him.

'We'll be there, Wyrmcaller,' Mazuun said. His face was rigid with strain and his voice was hoarse.

'I count on you, Lord Mazuun,' I said. 'Be proud, man; this is the day you have waited for! You're going to retake your ancestral keep.'

'A great thought,' Mazuun said tonelessly. 'When all goes well...'

'All will go well,' Amaj snapped. 'We're going to take the keep, brother. Get out, Eskandar, before he breaks down and disgraces us. We will be there.'

I looked at Kellani. 'Ready?'

'Mount up,' the broomer said. 'We're going to get ourselves a caravan.'

It was still raining when we landed at the foot of the old mage tower.

'You two stay here,' Kellani said. 'I'll go and look for the monks and their cart.'

Before I could say anything, she was gone.

'That's the difference between us and a trained broomrider,' I said, blinking at the spot she'd been just now. 'She's fast.'

'I know it's a trick,' Naudin said. 'But how does it work?'

'Perhaps she will tell us, if we ask nicely enough,' I said. 'Then perhaps she won't.'

Within minutes, Kellani was back again.

'They're nearer than I expected,' she said. 'Another ten minutes at most. It's as Mazuun described; a cart-and-ox, one driver, a man at the ox's head, and a third one sitting in the back. The latter is a magic user. I saw him make a fireball and toss it into the road behind them. The driver slashes his whip at every object within reach; rocks, trees, anything, yelling all the time. The guy with the ox is singing; hard and out of tune. I don't know if they're mad, but they make a darned spectacle.'

'Mad Monks...' In spite of myself, I shivered. 'Many a night I'd lain awake, imagining them creeping up to eat me. It stopped when I went to sea; bless the navy.'

From the shadow of the ruined tower I watched the caravan getting closer, waiting for them to come into range of my spell. The man at the ox's head was bawling a song and capering like a juggler, completely at odds with his dignified face and bald head. I stared at him and gathered a gust of air. It had to be done carefully; I didn't want to hit the ox. I mean, I didn't fancy pulling the cart myself. I glanced at Kellani, waiting for her signal.

She nodded and I released the spell.

Unlike a fireball, my punches were invisible, so no one saw it coming. The gust hit the man in the stomach, folding him almost double and bowling him over the back of the ox to land on the rocks in the little river beside the road.

The fellow on the box had been talking to himself, waving his whip to underline every statement he made. Now he sat gaping at his mate, clearly unable to understand what happened. I stared at him for a second. It would be tricky to hit him without blowing the hood off the cart. I swung my hook and threw my punch as if it was a stone. It hit the man on the box between the eyes. His head slammed back, and then he slid from the box to the ground in a slow, graceful motion. I gasped, not realizing I had been holding my breath. I'd been afraid of using too much power and exploding the monk's head all over the cart, but my brain had measured it perfectly.

'Watch out!' Kellani said sharply. She sent a beam down, but the third monk had his shield up and all energy cascaded off him. He jumped down from the back of the cart and pointed a crooked staff at us. His face twisted madly and a stream of clear light shot our way.

I dropped to the rocky ground, but Naudin was slow to react. The beam hit him squarely on the chest, turning him into a glittering torch of white light. He had his screen up, or he would've been cooked on the spot. Even so, the force of the spell knocked him over the edge into the gulch below. His mouth opened in a soundless scream as he fell.

'Curse you!' I cried. Any remorse I had at killing the monks evaporated. I came to my knees and hurled a punch of air towards the fellow with the staff. My anger made me overdo it, and the monk flew backwards across the river. He slammed into the opposite rock wall, about ten feet above the ground. It broke his screen spell and he dropped, his wide sleeves flapping like a broken bird, to end up in a heap on the little bank between the river and the wall.

I saw him crash with only half an eye, as I rode my broom down after Naudin at the same time the man hit the ground.

Kellani beat me to it, of course. 'He's alive,' she said tersely.

Without a word, I fell on my knees beside the young mage. His screen was down; apparently you can be knocked out while wearing it, and he'd lost his glasses. I put my hand lightly on his chest and closed my eyes. Broken ribs, dislodged shoulder, sprained ankle; I wasn't a healer and this was much more than I'd ever tried to do. Without thought, my hand went to the little statue of the clouds-god in my coat pocket. The ribs first... Hot pain racked my body as I absorbed his hurt. I gasped and lifted my hands. The pain disappeared. I laid myself down on the ground, making as much contact with the earth as possible.

'Can you do it?' Kellani asked as she crouched beside me.

'I'm not sure,' I said, and, gritting my teeth, I put my palm on Naudin's body. The agony ran from his ribs through my arm into me. I felt it spread through my body, urging my mind to pass out. With tears streaming down my face, I wrestled with the pain, while Naudin's ribs knit. Hurry! I prayed, as his shoulder popped back into place and the muscles of the ankle relaxed in relief. My toes dug into the earth, every inch of me aching in protest. Then Naudin moved under my hand.

'Hell's blazing walls,' he said, sounding dazed. 'What happened?'

I lacked the energy to answer. Hands lifted me up and put me down somewhere on a heap of sacks. Beans, I thought vaguely, feeling it shift beneath me. A month's provision of beans. A face hovered over me. An unknown, haggard face, of a brownish boy with wild eyes and strong fingers. He held up a bottle.

'Part of cargo,' he said in an accent I couldn't place. He showed a toothy smile. 'Good drink to make strong again, take away monk hurt.'

A heady smell made my poor senses reel. With my eyes closed, I drank. As the neat brandy burned its way down my throat, I wheezed and gasped. I never drank alcohol; it didn't mix well at all with magic. Only now it worked its job and I passed out.