Arm Of Galemar (Book 2) (4 page)

After several moments of intense concentration, he
finally distinguished a word.  The tiny script, the bad handwriting and the
faded ink promised to make this a headache-inducing chore.

“I’m not messing about, old man.  Where are the pages
with the scrying methods you told me about?”

Tollaf still kept his back turned.  “Oh, I’m sure I
remember they were in there somewhere.  I think it was that tome.”

“You
think?”

“It’s been a while since I read it, after all.  Don’t
let me slow you down.  I’m sure you’ll find it.  Sooner or later.”

“This could take all winter!”

“Then you’d better get started, hadn’t you?” Tollaf
snapped, at last spinning on his seat, his tone its customary abrasive snarl. 
“I’m sure you’ll learn much of interest in there.  Given your adaptive attitude
towards magecraft, I’m sure it’ll all come in handy sooner or later.”

“This is your ploy to make me forget my sword, isn’t
it?  It won’t work.”

“You got what you asked for.  Now
you
can
answer to Torrance.”

He may have gotten what he asked for, yet Tollaf
always found a way to get the best of the situation.  Marik focused on the
text.  These words hardly made sense so he flipped back to the introduction,
hopeful that something there might explain the tome’s general layout.

After three candlemarks, Marik gave up for the day. 
He had squinted so much he’d gotten the prophesized headache and Tollaf’s musty
room sapped his mental energy as well.  For all his effort, he’d only worked
his way through the first four pages.

Mostly it consisted of warnings.  These warnings were
no cautions regarding the material contained within the pages beyond, as might
be expected.  Rather they were threats against any who read the book without
the owner’s permission.  The owner, and presumed author, was named Natalie. 
Her family name had only been written once, under an ink smear that obliterated
most of it.  From the few letters he could identify the name looked vaguely
Gustur.  How the book had traveled from Gusturief to Galemar only mildly
intrigued him.

His brief perusal lent him an impression of the book. 
He doubted it had ever served as a research tool.  Rather it was Natalie’s
personal diary of mage workings.  She must have been a forgetful person, and a
vindictive one as well by all signs.  Most of the text would be of no relevance
to anyone save Natalie.  How much would he have to force his way through before
he found the few pages he needed?  That damned old bastard would spend the
winter laughing up his sleeves!

He trudged back to the Ninth Squad’s barracks.  Lunch
had come and gone while he’d been holed up in Tollaf’s cave.  The kitchen
window was empty except for the regular pitchers of water and juice.  No one
sat in the dining area.  Marik walked through the north wing, into the Fourth
Unit’s corner of the building.

Few people were present.  His closest friend, Dietrik,
rooted through his standing closet.  Sloan slept atop his cot.  Marik searched
but both Landon and Edwin were elsewhere.

Dietrik finally pulled out his long cloak and donned
it.  “It’s getting nippy earlier this year,” he observed.  “We’ll have to light
the fire soon.  Our body heat won’t keep this place warm much longer.”

“I suppose so,” Marik replied.  “What was for lunch?”

“Beef and fresh vegetables in red wine gravy, along
with buttered sweet yams.”

“That figures.  Tollaf had me buried in the biggest
book you’ve ever seen.”

“So catch it for dinner.  It will still be good.”

“I know, but that’s one of the meals I
like
having twice in one day.  You feel like sparring?  I need to loosen out the
kinks in my shoulders from being hunched over like a squirrel all afternoon.”

“Certainly, mate.  It’s too quiet in here anyway.”

“I know what you mean.”  The Crimson Kings Mercenaries
had taken a greater number of casualties in the Nolier War than in the last
several years of contract fighting combined.  At nineteen years of age, Marik
was starting his third year with the band, and the Ninth Squad’s barracks were
emptier than either man had ever known.  They found it unsettling.

After gathering their weapons they decided on the
Second Training Area, it being on the town’s eastern end and closer to the
barracks.  They found only a handful of people there, including one whom Marik
had never seen in a training area except during specific circumstances. 
Walking over, he asked, “Caresse?  What are you doing out here?”

The ever-energetic woman spun around, absently
brushing back the fall of brown hair that always swung into her eyes.  “Oh,
hello!  It’s been a long time Marik, so it has!”

“I didn’t see you during the last campaign.”

“I was assigned to the southern third of the combined
forces.”

Marik nodded.  Of all the Galemar army elements
fighting in the war against Nolier, the southern forces had taken the least
damage.  “I guess you didn’t see as much action as the rest of us, then.”

“Indeed, no!  I hardly fought at all until that last
battle, when we lost Ian.  Those Noliers charged right past us into the camp,
so they did.  We had to fight hard to catch up to them in the middle of our
camp!”

“I remember.  But what are you doing in the training
areas?  You’re a wizardess, not a swordsman.  Not any longer, at any rate. 
Tollaf’s irritated enough with me over the matter.  I don’t think you want him
breathing down your neck as well.”

“Oh, no!  I’m fixing up the mud flats!  See?  I’m too
tired to wait until tonight, so I hoped no one would be using it.”

She pointed.  Marik and Dietrik both studied the muddy
ground.  The different terrain built into the training areas could be left to
themselves for the most part, but one good rainfall transformed the cracked,
dry mud flat into a boggy quagmire.

“I’ve always wondered about that one,” Dietrik
admitted.  “Most of this ground I can see being built by hand.”

“We never need it,” Caresse admitted.  “The only mud
flats are near the Kiadelva in Vyajion.  But I must maintain the terrain for
training.”

Marik offered his own opinion on the matter. 
“Wouldn’t it make sense to leave it a mud hole? 
That’s
what you’re
likely to find around Galemar.”

She put a finger to her chin while cocking her head. 
“Perhaps you have a point.  You should ask Head Clerk Janus about that.”

Thoughts of Janus, another cranky old man, possibly
worse than Tollaf, prompted Marik to add, “Maybe later, Caresse.”

The young wizardess shivered.  “It’s getting colder,
so it is.  I’ll finish up quickly and go to sleep!”

So saying, she began to work.  Marik opened his
magesight to observe while she called upon her geomancy talent.  Beside him,
Dietrik watched, unable to see anything beyond the physical results of her
work.

Through the etheric plane he saw the dark mud begin to
glow faintly.  He recognized the faint blue sheen from the one other time he
had witnessed Caresse draw on water’s elemental essence.  She reached with her
talent and grasped the water’s soul within the mud, similar yet vastly
different from Marik’s own gathering of etheric energy.

Yanking, she pulled on the water while leaving the
earth firmly in place.  Marik switched back to normal vision in time to see the
mud dry with supernatural speed.  The flat underwent an entire week of baking
under the sun in a bare few moments.  Black mud rapidly lightened in color, the
moisture disappearing.  Cracks appeared all across the surface.  Palm sized
areas shrank as the cracks widened.

When it was done, Caresse exhaled in a massive sigh. 
“Whew!  I’m full tired!”

Marik quickly checked the etheric to find the normally
hidden elemental auras gone again.  “Where did it go?”

“Doh-ah?”

Her quizzical look prompted him to phrase the question
better.  “What did you do with the water?”

“Oh, that?  I sent it over to the bog in the Third
Training Area, so I did.”  She wobbled slightly.

“I thought water was an easy element to work with.”

“Yes, it is, but it is harder when it is all wound
together with earth.  It has made me very tired!”

“Well, I’ll see you around the Tower then.”

“Indeed!  I will see you then!”

When she left, Dietrik commented, “There’s a cheerful
lass.  Not a whit like the she-men populating the Fifth.”

“Yeah, nothing ever gets her down for long.  But I
wouldn’t get any ideas about her, friend.  She was a Fifth Squad fighter, and
survived plenty of contracts before her magic talents blossomed.  I also gather
she is still the favorite pet of the Fifth’s women.”

Dietrik shrugged, indicating he cared little one way
or the other.  He scraped at the dried mud flecks with his boot toe.  “I must
admit, that was fair impressive.  Can you do that?”

“No.  Why would I want to?”

“Just thought I’d ask.  Let’s practice over by the
shacks.”

While they walked, Marik asked, “Do you know if
Colbey’s back yet?”

“Not to date.  He’s still out taking care of whatever
spot of business he’s tending to.”

“I’m a little worried about him.  He’s been acting
funny ever since we heard those rumors from Tullainia.”

“Indeed.  At least, funnier than normal.”

“Yeah.  I think those stories meant more to him than
the rest of us.”

“I’m not sure I believe any of those tales.”

“Me either, but Colbey’s behavior makes me wonder.”

Dietrik glanced at Marik’s weapon.  “You really should
get a new sword soon.  You’ll have to get used to feel of your new blade.”

“I know.”  Marik raised his father’s old sword.  It
was a low quality blade Rail had only kept as a spare and never used
personally.  “I’m still trying to decide what type I should get this time. 
I’ll need a sturdy blade, one that can hold up under the extra force when I
have my strength working in place.”

They reached the shacks and Dietrik asked, “You are
planning to spar like a normal human, right?  I’d rather not damage my rapier.”

Marik laughed.  “Don’t worry!  If I planned to use the
strength working, you’d be the first to know.  Which reminds me.”

“Yes?”

“We were going to try and teach you the stamina
boosting trick once we were safely back in town.”

“True, but let’s work on that later.  I’m freezing an
inch at a time and need to work up a sweat.”

*        *        *        *        *

Once it was full dark, they returned to the barracks
where they found Landon and Edwin sitting at a table with Kerwin.  Marik
suspected he would miss the pleasure of eating Luiez’s cooking tonight as well.

“Kerwin!” Dietrik exclaimed.  “What are you doing in
the barracks?”

“I’m visiting as a guest, you might say.  Landon
dragged me over from Cedars this afternoon.  I was thinking of coming by
anyway.”  The former mercenary wore higher quality clothing than Marik was
accustomed to seeing him in.  He had also donned a tooled leather vest over a
tight-weave shirt that recalled to Marik memories of caravan owners overseeing
the unloading of their goods.

“Why?” Marik wanted to know.  “Are you going to set up
odds on every match for the green entrants this year?”

“You can see right through me!”  Kerwin cut the air
with a flat palm to negate his own statement.  “But perhaps they aren’t so
green this year.  I noticed quite a few fellows outside town who I’m sure are
army men.  Or were, anyway.”

Dietrik nodded.  “I’m not surprised.  After the
mauling at the Hollister, I’m sure many of the soldiers are thinking twice
about their army careers.  The Kings might seem a brighter prospect than
before.”

Landon added, “That might be good news for us,
though.  They’ve seen combat and with a higher number of talented hopefuls
camped outside the walls, we might have an increase in qualifying recruits this
year after the entrance trials.”

“At any rate,” Kerwin continued.  “I poked around to
test the waters, but I don’t think the betting would be very lively. 
Everyone’s still down after the last campaign, and with the Tullainian border
heating up, spirits are generally low.”

“So you wasted a trip then?  I’m glad to see you,
though.  It’s been depressing since we got back,” Marik admitted.

“Not exactly, no.  I actually came back to see if
Kerny is serious about selling his tavern.  None of the available buildings
around Cedars fit what I have in mind.”

Edwin opined, “Kerny was only flapping his lips, but
with the amount of coin you can offer, he’ll change his mind.”

“We were about to go over and talk to him,” Kerwin
directed toward the two newcomers.  “Want to come along?  I’ll treat to a
meal.”

“I guess so,” Marik replied, shoving away thoughts of
the dinner that might have been.