Make Her, page 8
The next two days passed the same—Sibyi accrued a group of people he felt were trustworthy to our smaller camp, and Wyrval used his grand magic to protect both the cage and the camp itself. By the end of the second day, we were ready to begin.
We set up a portal frame for Jaegar’s war tent to speak through, so that other mages could tell us where the Deathless were going to appear, and once we had that information, Sibyi pulled me through a portal he created with him to where the fighting was taking place.
Where I. . . was next to useless.
Even without my magic, I was still strong; the muscles I possessed in one form didn’t depart in the other.
But it meant that I did have to fight the creatures personally, and they were their normal, somewhat breakable, selves.
I cornered one, ignoring the rest of the fighting around me, and tried to grapple with it. It bit my forearm—and where it bit me, it hurt. I swung at it without thinking and knocked it down onto a stump, where it immediately began bleeding out. “Fuck!” I cursed, watching the thing die.
Sibyi came up beside me, discerning the problem at once. “A bag?” he asked. “Maybe leather?”
“Perhaps. ”
But I was unable to make things out of nothingness anymore—and because Sibyi’s magic was not in working cloth—any time we tried to catch one of the creatures, it was like being too rough with firebugs as a child: there was a thin line between catching light in your hand and your palm being smeared with bug guts.
When the last of the creatures died, as the eruption faded, Castillion immediately portaled near.
“Oh, dear. Did all of your test subjects die?” he asked, feigning solicitousness.
“Fuck you, Castillion. ”
He laughed and made a show of portaling off.
By the next time we went out, we had quickly procured a large leather bag, and managed to wedge a Deathless into it without breaking it. We were just about to attempt to portal it to our small camp, but then the other mages present settled the eruption, and I felt the thing I held inside the bag collapsed, disassociating from its magical source already.
I unlaced the top of the bag quickly to look in, and saw the Deathless inside melting down into its component fluids, which I knew would then sublimate away. I howled in irritation, and then started to pace, until everyone else had gone and it was just Sibyi and me.
“All right,” I said, turning to him with a decision. “We’ll need to capture one, and then transport it to our camp and cage it, before they finish killing the rest of them, or flatten the eruption itself. ”
“And just have mages and soldiers watching things get worse, until we let them know it’s worked?” Sibyi asked, with a hint of disbelief.
“Something like that,” I muttered, moving to sit on my heels. I played a hand through the dirt, like I would have when I was empowered, wishing for something, anything, to answer me, so that I would not feel so helpless.
He cleared his throat. “You realize we don’t even know if they’ll survive being portaled, right?”
“Yes,” I said grimly. “If they don’t. . . then we’ll just have to hope an eruption occurs near our campsite, and that we could trust the mages present to sustain things for long enough for a physical transfer to occur. ”
“Hmm. All right. I’ll go tell the others what it is we need to do next time. ” He created a portal behind himself and hopped into it, abandoning me. Half a minute later, he returned with an apologetic wince. “Sorry. Habit. ”
I only shook my head slightly as he made a portal back to camp, big enough for both of us to go through.
After that, for two days, there was an odd gap where no Deathless appeared. It was like being on a triple-sailed warship, and experiencing windless doldrums out at sea. I made Sibyi bring me scholars then, with their papers and their theories.
They, at least, were as eager for me to be successful as I was. Not all of them had even seen a Deathless in person, although those that had frequently bore deep personal grudges against the things, like my Lisane, because the creatures had disrupted livelihoods and murdered kin. And some of them had been quite thoughtful in their research, which I found admirable, seeing as they only possessed one life’s worth of time to do it in.
They’d created maps out of the locations of attacks, and crossmatched these with the time of year, or the ambient weather, trying to see if there was some cyclical nature to the Deathless that we hadn’t cracked. I poured over their efforts with my fresh eyes, hoping to see something that they had not, but in the end, I found myself frustrated anew, because every day I had not accomplished my task was a day closer to losing not only myself, but Lisane, for good.
“How do you feel?” Sibyi asked from behind me as the second of these useless days drew to a close, and I found myself pacing around the empty cage with an empty heart.
I shook my head at the ground. “Soul-sick. ”
“Hmm. Perhaps you’re just hungry?” I turned toward him, and saw he was holding a plate full of food. “You need to eat. ”
“Eating is not research, and it also is not science. ”
He came to stand beside me, facing the cage, trapped as it was in Wyrval’s vines. “You’re human now, Rhaim, or something akin to it. ” He swung the plate in front of me again. “Your brain needs food, even if you think your body doesn’t. ”
“Pah,” I disagreed, but still took it from him, eating with my fingers rather than taking a step away.
I was awakened in the middle of the night the next night by the sound of fire catching.
I leapt out of my bed half-dressed and ran outside—my tent and the cage were away from the rest of the camp, at my request—and I found two throne-sworn mages I barely knew, Neth the Slicer and Shael the Fire Soul, destroying Wyrval’s vines.
I accosted them at once. “What are you doing?” I demanded, as I ran to block the yllibrium cage with my own body. Sibyi was gone, and with him, my collar’s spare key. I watched the last of Wyrval’s protective wooden circle blacken and dust, as Shael shot fire from his chest at it—and around Neth’s feet were what I assumed the shreds of Wyrval’s body, which appeared an odd mixture of burned human and charred botanicals. “I will call a convocation!” I threatened.
Neth looked over at me, now done with his slicing. “How?” he mocked me.
I tilted my head. They had not thought this through. “How will you take the cage without touching it?” The only reason I’d been able to manage its creation is because I’d individually picked up the hurt-stones, and been able to walk them into my castle.
“An army approaches,” Shael said, finishing his chore, closing his shirt over his still gleaming chest.
“You would trust it in human custody?” I asked him archly. “And you think I’m a fool. ”
Neth brought a hand up, but Shael slapped it down. “If you kill him, we won’t know where to get more. ”
I took another step forward. “If that’s the only thing that’s stopping you from killing me, don’t bother. I will never tell you. ”
“You shouldn’t tempt me, All-Man,” Neth sneered. “Plus if no one knows where to get more, think how much this amount will be worth?”
And just then, the ground cracked. I hadn’t gotten a sensation of it happening beforehand, and neither, seemingly, had they. If the Deathless erupted here, it would make my life easier—but I wouldn’t be able to stop them by myself, collared like I was—
Then lashes of green vines roped out and caught Neth the Slicer’s hands.
Wyrval.
I jumped back to what I hoped was safety as the vines dragged Neth down to the ground and bound him there. Shael ran over to him, ripping his shirt open to use his fire-magic, but then stopped himself—there was no way for him to burn Neth free without burning the man, too.
More vines whipped out, a veritable tangle of them, and soon Shael was dealing with his own bindings, screaming as he was dragged to the ground, facing up, the fire from his chest beaming a panicked beacon up into the night, followed by his screams.
Wyrval was slowly pulling both of them apart and I couldn’t have stopped him even if I’d wanted to. They screamed until fistfuls of vines punched into their faces, choking them, and then their terrified writhing slowed. I watched in equal parts fascination and horror as Wyrval’s magic crushed them, pulled them apart, and possibly ate them, giving them exactly what they deserved.
After that, a tremendous oak tree shot up, almost instantly shading the cage and my tent beneath its boughs, and a figure stepped out of the trunk, appearing as tree-like as it did, before resolving clearly into someone more human.
Wyrval held up a fire of his own in one hand. “Everyone always thinks they can defeat me with fire. ” He walked over to the two mages who I assumed were dead. “But green wood doesn’t burn well, asshole. ”
I walked up, feeling an unfamiliar sensation in his presence: awe.
“I take it you knew you didn’t die tonight?” I asked.
“Not here, not now. ” He pointed up to the heavens, which were obscured by the branches of the oak he’d created. “Not beneath this sky. ”
“Well then,” I said, wondering how the other two mages had seen their own deaths coming. Shael had lived a little bit longer than Neth. “He probably saw himself die under a tree. Since there wasn’t one, he thought he was safe. ”
Wyrval grunted at that.
“And the Slicer. . . ” I sat down on my heels. Wyrval had rammed vines through the throne-sworn mage’s eye sockets. “Maybe he didn’t see his death at all. Maybe he just felt an eerie painful dark. ”
Wyrval chuckled. “I hope so. ”
I stood up again, and toed Neth’s head with my unshod foot. What remained of it began to crumble into dirt, leaving only a knot of the oak tree’s roots behind, in the same shape as his skull had been. “It is so unfortunate that I find myself unable to call a convocation,” I told Wyrval, with feigned dismay.
“Truly,” he agreed. “If you’ll pardon me though, it seems I have an army to convince to turn back now. ”
“By all means,” I said, as he began to create a portal behind him. “And, Wyrval!” I called after him, right before he was about to step through. “Thank you. ”
He turned back to give me a toothsome grin. “You are most welcome. ”
14
Lisane
Not knowing what was happening to Rhaim was torture, and the sound of him being collared haunted me. I knew it worried Finx, too, because he was quieter now, and restless when he slept by my side.
Jelena passed along any gossip she heard in the camp—about a crazed mage, his promises of defeating the Deathless roundly scoffed at—but I couldn’t send her asking questions with intent. I didn’t want her in any danger, and I put nothing past my father anymore.
So the only thing that felt true was the growing dread that was gnawing at my insides.
Whatever magic Finx’s bites had given me had faded, and I didn’t dare to ask him for more, for fear of what I might do with it.
I had to give Rhaim’s plan—such as it was—a chance to work.
And me outing myself to an entire camp’s worth of soldiers and mages was not part of Rhaim’s ploy.
After seven days, though, when there was just a wisp left of power in me, I ran out of resolve—and for the front of my tent, to peek through the fabric door.
“Go get Castillion,” I whispered, to one of my guards. I used the end of my magic like a bee might sting—a singular jab of command, towards ends profitable to me—and I felt it, same as he did, a short sharp poke in an uncomfortable place.
But then he ran off to do as he was commanded.
Hours later, Castillion came as called, boldly stepping into my tent, his bearing tense. “Princess?” he asked. “One of your guards said you needed me. ”
I made a show of wringing my hands. “Tell me how the Beast fairs. ”
The mage made a soothing gesture in my direction. “You needn’t worry about him. He has not made any progress yet. You’re safe. ”
There were so few things I could say, without giving away my true nature. “Are you. . . sure?” I asked, sounding exactly as frightened as I felt, only for vastly different reasons than the simple mage assumed.
“Absolutely,” Castillion said with finality. “He has set himself upon an impossible course. ” Then he arranged himself more casually before continuing, stepping one foot out and letting his shoulders fall slightly. “If you’re worried about him being part of your dowry, however. . . you will be in chambers. You would never see him. And, frankly, I don’t think most of the Kers would care to keep him close. Wounded dogs are dangerous and need to be put down. ”
“Put down,” I repeated, softly, all of the air leaving me like I’d been punched.
Castillion nodded. “Please do not let his fever dreams trouble you, princess. It wouldn’t matter if your father had given him a month or a million years. He will never be able to claim you. ”
I forced myself to nod back, as Castillion took his leave of me, without asking the next question that came readily to mind.
How could Castillion be so certain?
Rhaim
I spent the rest of the night beneath the tree’s swaying branches, with my back against the cage, only dozing the most minimal amount. When Sibyi returned, I told him what had happened.
“No,” he gasped, looking at the tree, and the knotted roots, for signs of destruction.
“Yes,” I refuted him, standing. I’d already known I wasn’t going to go out of my way to anger Wyrval, and the events of the prior night had only solidified that.
“Most impressive!” Sibyi muttered.
“I’ll say. You can tell no one, of course. ”
“Obviously,” he agreed. “So Ker Zesh doesn’t care if we fail. ”
“Or, he doesn’t want to lose his bet,” I said, knowing Sibyi hadn’t been there for that portion of the evening. “Although I suspect he may be feeling differently this morning when he realizes his two closest throne-sworn mages haven’t returned. ” I’d never been tempted to put myself in the service of a king, and I couldn’t really understand the motivations of those that did. I suspected they just liked someone else telling them what to do—or having someone else to blame for their shortcomings. “But let’s carry on as if nothing had happened, today. ” I couldn’t afford to get distracted by internecine wars between the Kers—it was another morning, which meant I was another day closer to winning or losing Lisane.
“All right, then. I’ll go and wait at the war tent until they know of an eruption, and see if I can’t convince them to wait for us to cage a Deathless before putting an end to it. ”
“Please, do. ”
When the Deathless attacked again, the places they were in were too populous to risk waiting for a transfer—or so Sibyi was told by Castillion, for an entire extra day. I was ready to shove the Spiked One into a bag and throw him into the cage, when we finally got the opportunity to capture one, as the creatures finally manifested someplace more desolate.
Other mages managed to keep the things at bay without winning, while Sibyi and I carefully gathered a test subject into the leather bag, and then other mages set up a series of portals for us to transfer through.
That a Deathless would even survive the portaling was the first hurdle—but I assumed they must themselves be coming up from some sort of portal in the ground, and not growing out of them wholly, like perversions of plants.
So we caught one, bagged it, and then Sibyi portaled us through to where the cage was, and Wyrval granted us access to it through his branches. “I would help you, but—” he said while watching.
“No, I understand,” I said, carefully bringing the ensnared Deathless forward. The thing was moaning and moving inside of the leather.
“It didn’t explode,” Sibyi said. “That’s saying something. ”
I grunted a response, and took it up the small steps to the cage’s top, where I removed the lid, then placed the Deathless inside gently, tugging free the lacing around the top of the leather. The creature clambered out of the leather bag, and I managed to close the cage without hurting it and. . .
“The eruption?” I called out to Sibyi, through the portal he was holding open, back to where we’d come from, without me taking my eyes off of the thing.
“Finished!” he shouted. “And our captive?”
I stared at the creature moving aimlessly in the cage. “Still alive!” I shouted back. Somehow putting it in the cage had freed it from the rest of its brethren that had rejoined the ground.
Sibyi whooped and then ran up to join me. “You realize no one’s managed as much before?”
Of course I had. But. “It took eight days. ” Which only left me six days, to unravel the rest of the creature’s secrets.
“You’ll manage it,” Sibyi said, resting his hand on my shoulder. “I have faith in you. ”
“I hope it’s not misplaced,” I muttered—and was vastly disappointed, when I accidentally killed the thing the next day.
I’d just been meaning to get a sample from it, to give to the scholars to do simple tests on, but after I’d pricked the creature’s bloated arm, all of the fluids in it started pouring out, and there was nothing, absolutely nothing, I could do to stop them. Being magically suppressed inside the cage had made the thing even more fragile.
I cursed and watched the creature die a second, more final, death, and then thought about ripping the cage apart with my bare hands, and keeping going, clawing my way into the center of the earth in my irritation.
“Rhaim,” Sibyi said, trying to calm me.
I shook his attention away. I didn’t have time for his sympathy, or my own despair. “Help me to get another one. ”
“Of course. ”
After we procured a second, I was afraid to let anyone touch it. Scholars came and scholars went, proposing ideas one after another, which I mostly ignored, concentrating my will on the creature, like I would’ve any other beast I’d wanted to tame in my uncollared life.
