Out of the Darkness

Pekka chanted on. The passes that went with the incantation were second nature to her now. The other theoretical sorcerers stood by, lending strength and standing ready to rush to her aid if, in spite of everything, she faltered. That had happened before. She missed Master Siuntio-dead at the Algarvians’ hands, too-and Master Ilmarinen. Fernao had saved her before. She didn’t want to think about that, and, again, she didn’t have to.

The animals were growing frantic now, the rats squeaking in fear and alarm. Pekka knew an abstract pity for them. Better you than so many Kaunians or Unkerlanters or even Gyongyosians who are proud to volunteer their throats to the knife. Glowing blue lines of sorcerous energy stretched between cages of young beasts and their grandparents. Those lines grew brighter by the moment, brighter and brighter and. .

All at once, they flashed, intolerably brilliant. Pekka’s eyes were closed against the glare by then, but that flash pierced her to the quick even so. When she opened her eyes afterwards, green-purple lines seemed printed across the world. Slowly, slowly, they faded.

Corruption’s ripe reek filled the blockhouse, but only for a moment. The older rats and rabbits in the cages aged so catastrophically fast, they went past rotting to bare bones far quicker than the blink of an eye. The younger ones, by contrast, were propelled backwards chronologically, back to the days long before they were born. Had they ever truly existed, then? The mathematics there were indeterminate. But for sawdust and shavings, the cages that had held them were empty now.

“Divergent series,” Pekka murmured. Sure enough, that was how to get the greatest release of sorcerous energy.

“We did everything as planned,” Raahe said. “Now we find out if our calculations were right.”

“That’s the interesting part, or so Ilmarinen would say,” Pekka replied. She hoped the cantankerous old master mage was all right. Losing him on top of all the other disasters of war would have been almost too much to bear. Deliberately forcing the thought from her mind, she turned to the crystallomancer. “Make the etheric connection to the Searaven.”

“Aye, Mistress Pekka.” The crystallomancer bent over her glassy sphere and murmured the charm that would link the blockhouse to the Kuusaman cruiser gliding along a ley line a few miles off the beaches of Becsehely. Her first attempt failed; the crystal refused to flare with light. She muttered something under her breath, then spoke aloud: “It should have worked. Let me try again.”

“All right,” Pekka said nervously. The amount of energy they’d released. . If they’d miscalculated even by a little, it might have come down on the Searaven instead of the empty island at which they’d aimed.

But then the crystal did light up. After a moment, the flash faded and a naval officer’s face appeared in the globe. “Here you are, Mistress Pekka,” the crystallomancer said. “Here is Captain Waino.”

“Powers above be praised,” Pekka murmured as she hurried over to stand before the crystal. She raised her voice: “Hello, Captain. Please describe what- if anything-you and your crew observed on Becsehely.”

“If anything?” Waino exclaimed. “Mistress, as far as that island’s concerned, it’s the end of the fornicating world-pardon my Valmieran.”

Pekka smiled. “You’re a naval man, and you talk like what you are.”

“As you say, Mistress.” Waino sounded like a man who’d just been through an earthquake. “Everything was normal as you please, and then lightning slammed down out of a clear sky and things blew up-it was as though every dragon in the world dropped a couple of eggs on Becsehely at the same time as the lightning hit it. But there weren’t any dragons.”

Behind Pekka, the other theoretical sorcerers cheered and applauded. Somebody gave her a glass of applejack. She didn’t sip from it, but asked the officer, “What can you see of the island now?”

“Not forn. .” Waino caught himself. “Not much. It’s still covered in smoke and dust and steams. We will send men ashore for a further examination as things settle down.”

“Very well, Captain. Thank you.” Pekka nodded to the crystallomancer, who broke the etheric connection. After a pull at the apple brandy-now she’d earned it-Pekka said, “We can do this thing.” The other theoretical sorcerers cheered again. They had glasses in their hands, too.

Trapani, Pekka thought again as they walked out to the sleighs to go back to the hostel. Gyorvar, to teach Ekrekek Arpad a lesson he’ll never forget. Cottbus, even, if King Swemmel ever needs the same kind of lesson. She could feel the applejack, but the knowledge of power felt still more intoxicating.