neetha Napew - Son Of Spellsinger

At anyone we see

Just have to put it away for a while

Time to do it fast, and for sure in style.”

The propulsive vortex was almost upon them when its outer edges began to kink and snap. As the tornado halted, Buncan sensed a distinct feeling of puzzlement. It began to groan as if it had bones, embarking on a succession of violent convulsions. Tumultuous winds continued to buffet the watchful travelers, but they came from all directions now, confused in their approach and aimless in their passing.

As they stared the tornado folded in on itself. Disorganized streaks of black wind coiled in all directions. The storm contracted and spasmed, knotting and reknotting until with an audible groan the entire towering structure keeled over to slam into the canyon floor, sending a cloud of dust and sand flying.

Buncan averted his face until the cloud had begun to settle. When he looked back he saw the tornado lying prone, twisting and humping helplessly in a futile attempt to loosen the thousands of knots into which it had tied itself at the behest of the otter’s spellsong.

A benumbed Gragelouth sought to gather bis wits. “Astonishing, but we had best depart before the treacherous phenomenon ascertains a solution to its current predicament.”

Neena took a deep breath. “I’m all for that, guv. That were a near thing.”

With a prudent eye on the bound tornado, they took turns mounting Snaugenhutt, who as soon as everyone was aboard trotted off up the canyon, careful to maintain a circumspect distance between himself and the enraged but impotent maelstrom.

As they finally exited the steep-sided chasm, Gragelouth turned in his seat to peer back the way they’d come. There was no sign of the beknotted tempest.

“That is what I try to do to my competitors,” he informed mem somberly. “Surely it will free itself eventually?”

“I’d think so.” Buncan scanned the mesas and plains ahead. “Hopefully, before that happens we’ll have put plenty of distance between us.”

The merchant settled himself back in his seat. “Of course, if it were to pursue us you three could simply bind it within itself again.”

Buncan felt his duar bouncing lightly against his back. “Don’t count on it, merchant. So far we’ve been pretty lucky with our spellsinging, but Jon-Tom always said something about sequels never being as good as the originals. I guess that’s just a natural component of sorcery. So if it comes after us we might have to try something else, and it might not be as effective. I’d rather make speed.”

“I suspect I have more confidence in you, young human, man you do in yourself.”

“ ‘Ere now, guv,” said Squill, interrupting without hesitation, “I’ve got plenty o’ confidence, I do. Feel free to compliment me.”

Gragelouth half-bowed in the otter’s direction. “My tribute was intended to include all.”

“Well, then.” Squill pushed out his lower lip. “See that it stays that way, guv.”

An otter, Buncan mused, was the only creature he knew of that could strut sitting down.

CHAPTER 18

Their enhanced confidence did not make the ta-mas any smaller or do anything to mute its rising temperatures. They took to resting and sleeping for long stretches during the middle of the day and trying to make up the time lost at night.

“Oi, guv’nor.” Squill clung cheerlessly in his iron seat. Even the bright feathers of his cap drooped listlessly in the heat. “ ‘Ow much more o’ this blasted country is there?”

Gragelouth shifted his attention from an unusually tall pinnacle. “No one really knows for certain. In that the good citizens of Poukelpo were being truthful. But our progress is steady. I would not think the crossing would require too many more weeks.”

“Weeks!” barked Neena. Her mouth hung open and she was respirating in short, rapid pants. “I don’t know if I can take many more days o’ this.”

“Do you wish to turn back and perhaps meet up with our cyclonic friends again?”

“No fear o’ that, guv.” Squill straightened slightly in his saddle. “They’ve been scattered, they “ave.”

“Getting a little tired myself.” Snaugenhutt punctuated his complaint with a frustrated snort. “This armor isn’t getting any lighter.”

Viz hopped down from his perch to bend over and peer into the rhino’s eye. “Quit complaining. If you’re thirsty there’s plenty of water. Or is it something other than water you’re worried about?”

“Put a beetle in it, bird. I’ll stay clean.”

“ ‘Aven’t ‘ad a swim in days. Otters like water, not sand.” Neena’s expression turned dreamy. “Big river, good friends, plenty o’ fish to catch. This bleedin’ Grand Veritable better be worth all this trouble.”

“More than that,” her brother added reproachfully, “it ‘ad better exist.”

“Do I detect a certain waning of enthusiasm?” Gragelouth murmured.

“Wanin’, ‘ell,” Squill groused. “It’s on bloody death’s door, it is.”

Buncan winced as Snaugenhutt hit a couple of bumps while loping down a dry ravine and back up the far side. “I don’t know about the two of you, but I couldn’t turn back now if I wanted to.”

“Why not, mate?” Squill asked him.

“Because it would mean admitting defeat.” The duar bounced lightly against his back.

The otter blinked. “Wot the ‘ell’s wrong with that? Anybody offers me a sack o’ fresh crawfish, I’ll admit defeat right now, I will.” Raising both arms melodramatically, he implored whatever gods might be watching. “ ‘Ere you! See, I admit defeat! I embrace it, I do. Now, ‘ows about somethin’ fresh to eat?” He held his arms aloft for another minute before lowering them.

“Gods must be busy. Strikes me as ‘ow they’re always busy.”

“We’re not turning back.” Buncan was firm.

“Ain’t we? ‘Ows about we put it to a vote, wot?” He glanced back along Snaugenhutt’s spine. “All those in favor o’ turnin’ back raise a ‘and.” He thrust his own skyward.

When it was not seconded he glared goggle-eyed at his sister. “ ‘Ere now, wot’s this? You were complainin’ more than all the rest o’ us put together.”

A chagrined Neena turned away from him. “Well, I been thinkin’ about wot Bunski there said about admittin’ defeat, an’ ‘avin’ to explain it to Mudge an’ Weegee an’ all, an’ I just ain’t so sure it’s a good idea to give up just now.”

“Is that bloody right?” Her brother’s exasperation was plain. “When is a good time, then?” When she didn’t reply he added, “So you’re in favor o’ continuin’ with this madness?”

“I didn’t say that. I . . . I abstain, I do.”

“Say wot? You can’t bleedin’ abstain.”

Her whiskers thrust forward belligerently. “I just did.”

Buncan reflected that only a couple of otters, sustained by their remarkable agility and superb sense of balance, could manage to engage in a serious tussle on the back of an ambling rhinoceros without falling off. At least things were back to normal.

As always, the scuffle concluded without any serious damage having been inflicted to either side. Squill settled back in his seat as though nothing had happened.

“Cor, mate, ‘ow about we try to spellsing up a nice, cool pool. Pick a likely-lookin’ depression in the rocks an’ make a job of it?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Blimey, where’s the ‘arm, Buncan? Just enough for a quick swim. Wouldn’t take much o’ a spellsong.”

Buncan looked back at him. “I said no. We’ve been pushing our luck all along. We might need a spell like that for drinking water, and as I’ve said from the beginning, harmonic replication’s a pain.”