Michael Foster - She Who Has No Name

When all the men were down or dead, Utik’cah came padding up behind him, aghast.

‘How did you do that, Lord Samuel? What magic is this that can make you move like the wind?’

‘My will is stronger than these decrepit stones,’ was Samuel’s reply, for even his current trickle of magic was enough to enhance his movements for a short time.

‘You are wounded!’ Utik’cah then said, for a steel blade was stuck in Samuel’s belly, pinning his robes to his skin.

Samuel grasped it with his hand and threw the curved knife to the floor. Blood like treacle slapped onto the stones, but he felt nothing.

‘Are you somehow now a god?’ the desert-man asked in awe.

‘I doubt it, but I am stronger than before. Something has happened to me that I do not yet understand. However, I do need to get out of this mountain quickly. It still draws at me and my body needs to be properly healed. To do that, I need my full strength.’

They hurried along, darting through more twisting and turning passages,and soon the great opening became visible ahead: a bright,white slash against the darkness of the caverns. Again,the pair was forced to stop, for a host of sword-bearing guards blocked the way, twenty deep and shoulder to shoulder across the stone hall. Wizards stood with them, silhouetted by brilliant cowls of magic.

‘What do we do now, Lord Samuel? Can you fight them all? We are not out of the mountain yet,’ Utik’cah said.

‘Near enough,’ was Samuel’s response for the exit was in sight and the stone had already lost much of its potency here. He called to the ether and a howling wind came rushing into the cavern, shunting the guards to their knees and blowing Samuel’s tattered hair behind him. Utik’cah sheltered behind himto avoid the furious gale.

Feeling the cool wind in his face, Samuel felt invigorated and he took a long,savouring breath of fresh air. Magic stirred inside him and he felt it fizzing in his blood, filling him with vitality.

As the Paatin guards and wizards climbed to their feet, a wave of fire burst out from the Order magician and they disappeared within it, dropping their weapons and covering their faces. The flames, squealing with white-hot fury, enveloped them and churned their flesh to ash.

‘This mountain can hold me no longer,’ Samuel spoke, revelling in the sweet taste of his magic.

As the fire and heat dissipated, Samuel strode between the smoking carcasses and out into the night air. Freefrom the mountain, he could feel the world around him and he delighted in its beauty, wallowing in the joy of his magic as it came filling his every pore, unrestricted by the accursed weight ofstone. His muscles filled with energy, and his blood surged with vigour. From the air and the ether,he gathered his power and felt reborn. He took a great breath and marvelled at the joy of such freedom.

Free to do as he wished, he set his magic to work. The wound in his torso sealed itself closed. The grime and grit fell from his skin and he could feel moisture in his cracked throat once again. Still, his muscles had wasted awayduringhis time in exile and, between that and his missing eyes and arm, he must have appeared something of a ghoul in his black robes.

‘I will need more time to recover, but time is what I do not have. I will leave you here, while I hurry ahead,’ he told his Paatin saviour and,before the man could make an utterance,Samuel had boundedup, leaping through the sky and onto the palace roof. It only took several quick skips and he was vaulting in through the Koian woman’s window.

The midwives and healers were gathered around her, dabbing her head with towels.They gasped and took a step back as he landed amongst them. Then theyscreamed and ran,leavingonly old Shara by the bed, holding the Koian woman’s hand defiantly.

Guards had beenassembledin the hall and they strove to make their way in as the women hurried out, but Samuel sent some drawers flyingin the direction ofthe door and wedged it shut tight. The men immediately began banging their fists against the wood, but theycould not break the door down easily.

‘What do you want here, Demon!’ Shara asked, trembling with fear upon sight of him.

The Koian woman looked to be in feverish pain. Her cheeks were red and her skin was wet with sweat. The bulge of her stomach was hidden beneath the sheets, for she had her knees up, readied for the birth. Only now, seeing her in the midst of childbirth, did Samuel truly realise he was about to be a father. He wanted to grab her and hold onto her as hard as he could, forthroughoutevery torturous moment of his dreams all he had wanted was to touch her, buthecould not. He kept the old woman between them, for if the Koian woman opened her eyes, she would surely be horrified by his horrendous state.

The thought then occurred to him that they may have been dreams after all. It was possible that all his moments with the woman had been only fantasy and that she felt nothing for him at all. He put the thoughts from his mind, berating himself forentertainingsuch selfishnotionsat such a time.

‘What are you doing to her, old woman?’ he asked.

‘Helping her bear her child, of course!’ Shara returned, and Samuel was surprised by her tenacity and impressed by her desire to protect the girl. ‘The mother is nearly ready, but the babe will only be born in nature’s own good time.’

‘It’s you!’ the Koian god-woman gasped, straining to see him, and the old woman had to restrain her from her attempts to sit up. ‘I knew you were not dead. That witch told me over and over that she had killed you. My dreams were always of you, but then you left me and I couldn’t find you. Where have you been?’

He kept his back to her and held his stump by his chest, so as to keep it from view.

‘I have been under the mountain,’ he said.

‘This is your child inside me,’ she said. ‘We shall have a son together.’

‘I know.’ He kept his gaze to the window. ‘How is this possible?’ he asked her. ‘I am a magician, and you told me yourself that you could not have children.’

‘I don’t know,’ she said, shaking her head upon her pillow. Then she yelped and her hands went to the sheets over her belly.

‘The pains are more frequent,’ the old woman said, ‘but there is still some way to go. I suspect this will not be easy.’

‘Then promise me, woman, that you will not abandon her.’

‘I will not,’ Shara responded, ‘but no birth is simple. You have frightened off everyone who could assist with the birth. I am not a healer or a midwife. I have only ever helped with such things before.’

‘They cannot come in,’ he told her. ‘Your Queen has evil plans. She will kill the mother and trade the child for a victory in her war. When she can be moved, I will take them away from here.’

At that, the midwife’s eyes opened insudden comprehension, and he knew that she believed him. ‘Something terrible has happened to our beloved Queen, to put our city beneath such a cloud of fear. Very well, I will do my best.’

‘What are you saying?’ the Koian asked, for she did not understand their Paatin talk.

He kept his back to her and huddled within his robes. ‘Why did you not tell me you are a witch?’ he asked her.

‘I am not a witch!’ she said, painedby his accusation.

‘Yes. I know it now, but you are something. I don’t know any other word for it.’

‘Then don’t call me anything.’

‘And you can see magic,’ he said. ‘That’s how you managed to navigate your way around the catacombs.’

Again, she nodded. ‘That was a long time ago.’

‘Not for me. Time passes strangely under the mountain. Hours and moments are interchangeable and the fevers I suffered made it all the worse. There, bound in my prison, I had a dream. I had returned to the fortress of Ghant and I was injured and dying upon the floor. I saw Grand Master Tudor struggling against the Paatin. Something happened to me and then I stole the life of everyone there. It saved my life, but I consumed theirs. Tudor died, and only you remained. Somehow, I know it was not a dream at all. You saw it all, but you didn’t say anything.’