Born Magic

Chapter 1-2

“We need to move faster,” said Tarik.

Jamal turned his head to look at Tarik, who was riding his own horse. “Why?”

“Take a look behind you.”

Twisting further, Jamal saw the smoky cloud of a firestorm along the horizon. “Well, f**k. How far away do you think it is?”

“An hour, maybe an hour and half if it’s just creeping along. However, I’m not sure it’s going that slow.”

Looking in front of him, Jamal thought he could see the top of the garrison towers. “The garrison is about an hour, I think. As long as we keep a steady pace, we should get there before the storm catches up.”

“That sounds like cutting it pretty damn close.”

Could he get Stonekicker into a canter and still keep Nev in place in front of him? Jamal shifted the way he was holding Nev and adjusted his grip on the reins. “We need to go faster, and I suspect this is going to hurt you a lot. Just try to deal with it.”

The only response from Nev was a touch from his hand on Jamal’s arm. Jamal took that as acceptance and dug his heels into the horse, urging him into a loping canter. It could have been worse. A trot would have been more jarring, but this stride was far from smooth. The sandy ground was often uneven, and Stonekicker’s wide solid body was bred for endurance rather than speed or grace.

Half an hour of relatively hard riding brought the garrison into view. Jamal could feel the heat of the firestorm behind them. He called to Tarik. “Go on ahead and get them to open the gate. This might end up being a race to get inside.”

“Okay. Understood.” Tarik sped away.

The garrison was protected from both firestorms and sandstorms by a magical warding maintained by the mage who was assigned to the location. The defense only extended scant inches outside the walls.

Firestorms were a remnant of the mage war that had created “the Burning.” Half a millennia ago, the two kingdoms had gone to war. Some said it was over a woman, others said it was over land ownership and the resources that land contained. Some even whispered that it was about an insult to the Sultan’s ego. Either way, Quertesh’s Sultan Taifa III gathered all the powerful mages of the kingdom and attacked Perathea. The magic clashed with that of the Perathean mages and wizards, and in the miles of grassland that once constituted the borderland, a vast fire broke out. It burned for weeks, fueled by the magic of both sides. It burned down to the bedrock in some spots. The death toll on both sides was heavy.

No one won.

It didn’t matter that hundreds of years had elapsed. Or that war, both magical and traditional, had broken out several more times. The vast wild magic released in the Burning still flared at times, hence the firestorms.

Jamal could smell burnt desert vegetation with an underlying hint of brimstone. And it was getting desperately close. He was minutes from safety. He could see the big main gates of the garrison opening for Tarik. Stonekicker must’ve have noticed the heat because his canter turned into a full gallop. Jamal guided him minimally. The horse knew where home was and had been close to more than one firestorm.

Only yards from the gate did Jamal haul back on the horse’s reins, slowing him enough to safely navigate the opening and finally come to a stop in the central courtyard. He felt the humming flare of the garrison’s wards roughly one breath before the screaming howl of the storm hit. The sharp tinkling sound of sand turning into glass by the heat rained down on shielding above the courtyard. Nev was essentially limp in Jamal’s grip.

“I could use a hand,” Jamal called out.

Tarik and Captain Bhati came toward Stonekicker. They helped Jamal ease Nev to the ground.

“Who’s this?” the captain asked.

“His name is Nev. We found him to the south, about halfway between Garrison Ten and here.” Jamal slid out of the saddle and stood beside Stonekicker.

“He looks Perathean,” said the captain. “He also looks to be in bad shape.”

“I think he’s a runaway servant,” Tarik commented. “He said something about the guy who he worked for opening a port or something. I think there was magic involved.”

Bhati stared down at Nev. “Get him in to let Ishaq have a look at him. If he survives, I’ll question him.” The captain gave an order for a couple of the other men to bring a litter and carry Nev into the infirmary area that occupied a section in the right hand side of the garrison wall. “Jamal, see to your horse. Come to my office after you’re done. Tarik, you, too.”

“Yes, sir.” Jamal cast a glance at Nev, whose unconscious form was being toted away. So much for the passing idea of following him to make sure he was actually being cared for. He couldn’t figure why it made a difference to him, but it did.

“So are we taking bets on whether we get our asses chewed by the captain?” Tarik asked as they led their horses to the stable area to water and feed them.

“I wish I knew, but still…I think we did the right thing. He would have died out there, especially considering the firestorm.”

Tarik positioned his horse in front of the trough, while working on putting hay and oats into the stall. “When we’re done with the captain, I want food. I think I’ll swing by the kitchen and see if I can get a pita.”

Once the horses were fed and watered and a little stall cleaning done, Jamal went with Tarik to the captain’s office.

Bhati was behind his desk. “Did the reports get delivered?”

“Yes, sir,” Tarik said.

“Good. Any commentary from Ten’s new commander?”

“Not really. Even though they’re closer to the trade route, everything’s been fairly quiet. A few drunken brawls, a couple of arguments between convoys on the route, that’s about it.” Jamal wondered what Bhati was fishing for.

“No other people than the one you brought back?”

“No, sir,” Tarik replied. “May I ask what you’re looking for?” Obviously picking up on the same thread that Jamal wondered about.

“There’s a rumor that certain factions in Perathea might be looking to stir things up again, but it’s little more than a rumor at this point.” Bhati ran a finger along the edge of the mug sitting on his desk. “Sounds like the storm is still going outside. Get some rest, none of us are going anywhere for a while.”

Jamal and Tarik nodded and left the office.

“You hungry?” Tarik asked.

“Not especially. I’ll worry about that in a while.”

Jamal turned in the direction of the infirmary. Hopefully, Ishaq wouldn’t bar him from checking on Nev. He pushed the door open and stepped inside. Ishaq, the healer, was on one knee beside a cot. He appeared to be examining some of the worst abrasions on Nev’s arms. A light sheet was drawn up over his legs. Nev’s eyes were closed, his body motionless.

“Is he going to make it?”

“He’s in rough shape. Dehydration and sunburn on top of…he was beaten. I cast a spell to check for broken bones and internal injuries. His cheekbone is cracked, as is one of his ribs. I need a little time to get my energy back before I tackle healing all of that. Of course, I don’t know why I’m calling him ‘he,’ since that’s not really correct.”

Startled, Jamal glanced from Ishaq to Nev. “That’s a woman?” The information didn’t seem to match with what he’d seen.

“No, well, yes and no.”

“Huh?”

“Nev is a tveir, both male and female.”

Jamal digested that piece of information. “I thought they were mythical or maybe the word is imaginary?”

“No, Nev is only the second one I’ve ever seen. They’re a product of a very specific type of thaumaturgy. I’ve heard that it takes months of spell work, and they’re designed for use in magic that has sensitivity to gender influence.”

“Does that mean he…it…that Nev isn’t human?”

“That’s a hard question. A tveir breathes, eats, talks, and obviously can be injured. I guess that qualifies as human. They’re not born, though. They’re…made.”

Made? Jamal wasn’t sure what that entailed. He stood looking at Nev, trying to decided how much of what was going through his head now was curiosity, and how much was that odd feeling that he truly cared about Nev’s well-being.

“Can you stay with Nev for a bit?” Ishaq asked. “I’m going over to the kitchen to see about getting myself some tea and some broth for…him.”

“Sure.”

As Ishaq left, Jamal pulled up a stool and sat near Nev’s cot.