Dwimmerscout Read online

Dwimmerscout

  Gareth Lewis

  Copyright 2013 Gareth Lewis

  Outside the city-states the flow of magic in the air reduces significantly, in places almost absent. Over a day out from the city of Phethus, there are only a few stray strands other than my own. It offers a peace I rarely experience.

  It's deeply unnatural and disturbing. I'm used to the background hum of flows, so the void in my head puts me on edge.

  Different minds have different ways of interpreting the dwimmer - the manifestation of the magic visible to those connected to it. I see it as a visual music, which my mind interprets into chords. Most flows out here are mere whispers, and even the stream connecting my rings to tether spikes in the city's magic pool is barely a hum.

  Not natural at all.

  I keep it from my face as I feel Duon's gaze. The farmer's son acting as my guide - who insists on referring to me as Master Artous - wants to be more sneaky approaching the abandoned keep. But if it is inhabited by wildlers we wouldn't get close without being spotted, and stealth may incite hostility. More hostility than they'd be naturally inclined to, which isn't easily dismissed.

  The white triangle on my coat marks me as a dwimmerscout, which'll give them a baseline of animosity. It also offers a degree of authority, admittedly flimsy. This land's nominally overseen by Phethus, so checking dried up dwimmer springs is among my official duties. Should the spring beneath the keep have renewed itself, the land's status could change. With flows increasingly congregating in larger pools, smaller ones have more factions interested in them than might've been the case even a decade ago. Even one as small as this likely is would see fighting for control, which won't be good for the local farmers.

  While some factions recognise farm produce is as valuable in its way, others focus too much on the power to be gained. If they get control they may permit the farmer to continue on the remains of his land, but they're still as likely to seize whatever he ekes out.

  The hilly land gets overgrown near the keep - just in sight, a mile ahead - with trees starting not far beyond. It's still too far away to tell whether the local wildlife have telltale dwimmers identifying them as wildlers in animal form.

  While I'm no expert, the generally scrubby land looks to me like it's used for grazing. The absence of cattle will be due to the farmer not wanting to lose them to wilders. Some packs restrict their hunting to wild animals, but others aren't as restrained.

  Duon's a mix of nervousness and excitement, and he'll probably accompany me as close as I allow. Which won't be a good idea. I'm reluctant to go further myself, but given the likelihood I've already been spotted, turning back could be worse.

  'They've been there nearly a tenday,' he says. He's babbled nervously for the last few minutes. 'No one goes in these days. Been too unstable since forever.'

  'That stop you?' I say.

  Duon grins. 'Been a few months since I been in. Didn't feel anything odd.'

  Which means little. Depending which flows it has - and which, if any, he's capable of using - they may've been invisible to him. Most people are limited to one flavour of dwimmer, and many can't do much with it. As a seer I see all flavours, although I can only use one directly. Dwimmerscouts only check on dried springs every few years, so it could've gone unnoticed a while. Until the wilders found it.

  'We could approach along the tree line,' says Duon. 'Get a good...'

  'No, thanks. I'll stay in the open. You should go home.'

  'But...'

  'Your father sent you to show me where it is. He won't be happy about you getting too close, will he?'

  Duon deflates, but at least he doesn't argue. Or look inclined to follow. His common sense seems enough to overrule his curiosity.

  I offer an encouraging smile. 'Thanks for your help. I promise to tell you what I find.'

  He perks up at that, and runs home.

  I let the mask of confidence drop as I regard my destination. While relatively certain I won't be killed, I've no intention of letting the boy's curiosity lead him into danger. I'm paid to be stupid.

  *

  It seems only polite to ignore the wolf wilder trying to hide behind a tree. They'll have spotted the badge. Since all dwimmerscouts are seers, he should know that this close I can see his flows. Some wilders see non-wilders as dim, and I'll happily encourage the view.

  A hawk dives at me, and I don't need to fake startlement as she changes to a woman and lands a few feet away. I'd spotted the dwimmer surrounding the bird - and the flow tethering her to the spring under the keep - but the speed and effortlessness of the change is startling.

  Birds are difficult for wilders, even specialising in a single form, and hers was larger than normal. As well as being the most accomplished of the gathering pack, she's definitely its leader.

  Even as a human she maintains a predatory gaze, impassive as she determines what threat I pose.

  I do my best to appear unimposing. 'Greetings. I'm Artous...'

  She turns towards the keep, and nods a couple of her pack to me. At least she doesn't simply attack.

  There's no delicacy or politeness as they take the tether rings from my fingers, and the flows fade rapidly.

  They're apparently familiar with the old trick of wearing one on a toe, and take that before pushing me towards the keep, happy I can't use magic.

  They're unsurprisingly less familiar with the trick of sewing a tether ring into your belt. Without direct physical contact the tether it provides to Phethus' pool isn't as strong, but it's not that much weaker. Cities are based near pools large enough that I could travel a few more days before even the belt tether reaches a useless level.

  If this spring has much of a seer flow I could draw on that when close enough. All I see from here is the wilder flow.

  Luckily none of the wilders appear to have any seer skill, or they'd have found my belt ring. Only one draws from a flow other than wilder, and that's limited. Their flows are from the spring under the keep, and another off to the southwest.

  Most of them are specialists, with only a few generalists. Wilder generalists are called wildshapers. Despite the versatility of adopting any animal shape - especially wildshapers capable of mixing animal traits - they're weaker than specialists.

  The flows from the spring grow clear as we enter the keep. There's only a trickle of other tributaries beyond the wilder dwimmers. Cracks in the stonework are adorned by an odd blue vine. Unnatural vegetation is a sure sign of a nearby spring.

  The records say last time the spring was open it had a mixture of wilder and maker energies. That's changed. Judging by the amount the wilders are drawing, the spring doesn't have much of a flow. It barely supports these seven. Without their tethers to another source, it'd be weak enough to risk friction among the pack.

  They take me to the largest room on the ground floor. It's lived-in, if not exactly homey. The leader is perched on a makeshift table made from fallen trees.

  I try conversing again. 'I'm Artous. I'm a...'

  'Dwimmerscout,' she says, apparently unwilling to let me finish a sentence. The flatness of her tone matches her face's impassiveness. 'Yes. We're not stupid.' She lets her eyes linger for an uncomfortable period. 'I'm Saenja. Why are you here?'

  'The cities have us regularly check dried springs, in case they've reopened.' I'm allowed to speak, provided it's answering questions.

  'And has this one?' A question to which she already knows the answer, but she wants mine.

  'Obviously. I saw the flows before you took my rings.' There's no point lying. Directly, anyway. She's smart enough to know I know. The question is, is she smart enough to know what I know?

  'Then we have a problem.' The threat in her words hopefully comes from my nerves.

  Talking of
fers my only option. While my seer abilities may let me fiddle with their dwimmers, there are too many for me to fight. And fighting isn't my forte.

  'Would you swear to lie about what you found here?' she says.

  'Of course not. How could you trust someone who'd swear to lie?'

  She smiles. While not entirely pleasant, at least it seems genuine. She's considering killing me of course, but not seriously. It'd be a temporary measure. In the long term it'd make things worse for her pack. I'm sure she sees the angles, but maybe I should play it safe and point them out.

  'You must see letting me go is your best option,' I say.

  'Is it?'

  'I go missing, the city'll send someone else to check the spring, with guards. They'll find it, and suspect you of playing a part in my disappearance, which they'll feel obligated to take action for.'

  'Obligated?'

  I shrug. 'Jurisdiction may be debatable out here, but killing dwimmerscouts isn't something they allow. And let's be honest, the amount flowing from the spring isn't worth killing for.'

  Her gaze narrows, as if to say I don't know what she'd consider worth killing for.

  'There's a trickle of seer flow,' I say. Which is actually true. Not enough to be of use, but it's there. 'I can see there's barely enough for your pack, and that's what I'll report. The other flows are too weak to be of interest. It's not likely to bring you any real challenge. There's the possibility of the flow increasing, but it'll be over a year before that's worth checking, and the way these springs usually go there's a better than even chance it'll dry up before then.'

  Saenja gazes silently, but must see the logic.

  Before she can pronounce judgement, a wilder left outside enters. 'Armed men coming this way. Four of them.'

  That draws a glare my way.

  'They're not with me.' That may not be entirely true. I should clarify, for honesty's sake. 'Not that I know. Sometimes dwimmerscouts get followed in case we find something. Unless they're wilders though - unlikely if they're armed and followed me from the city - there won't be anything here to interest them.'

  Saenja's dissatisfied. 'I don't want them finding anything. Discourage them.'

  'They may not be inclined to take my word.'

  She's disinclined to listen.

  I'm pushed out, my tether rings returned.

  *

  I'm nearly back where I split with Duon before I'm close enough to recognise Enduan. How early did they spot my approach? Choosing who I'd want following me, at least Enduan isn't the type to kill offhand, and we've shared a drink or two. That wouldn't get in the way of a profit, but there's little of worth here.

  He and his associates are members of the Order of Thunder. Raod I recognise, but the other two are strangers.

  The Order's one of many factions that vie for control of springs and unclaimed pools. While many only have members of a single discipline, the Order's mixed, as is this group.

  Enduan and Raod are makers - capable of making objects out of nothing, or from other things.

  Enduan specialises in conjuring weapons, many of his own design. He still carried a sword at his side, as a precaution.

  Raod has a pack of phantasmal hounds. Their faint glow's barely visible in daylight, but at night they're positively eerie. Conjuring an approximation of a single living thing that acts right without constant control is tricky, so a pack takes a fair degree of specialisation.

  The tethers of the other pair identify them as shapers - capable of manipulating elements or forces. I won't be able to tell which they use until they weave dwimmers.

  'Artous.' Enduan nods his greeting.

  I return the nod. 'Enduan. This a coincidence?'

  Enduan shrugs, offering his casual smile. 'Not really. We followed you.'

  'Hopes of finding a large spring?'

  'And the novelty of seeing you at honest work.'

  That was hurtful. Hardly any of the side jobs supplementing my part-time dwimmerscout role are illegal. He certainly has no evidence I've committed any crime. I'm careful about that.

  Offering an offended look, I shake my head in disappointment. 'If you were hoping for something from the spring then I'm sorry to disappoint you.'

  'Not active?' Enduan says with an almost insulting edge of doubt.

  'It's active, but only has a small flow of wilder energy. Sorry to waste your time.'

  'That's dispiriting,' says Enduan. His insincerity says he has little intention of taking my word. Unsurprising. 'Still, since we're already here we might as well have a look around.'

  I'll have to be more forthcoming than Saenja might like. 'There are wilders already in residence. They're not neighbourly.'

  'That'll explain the odd scents,' says Raod.

  Enduan drapes his arm over my shoulder and guides me back towards the keep. 'Don't worry about the wilders. I'm sure they can't resist my charm.'

  Raod sighs. 'We should be ready for a fight then.'

  *

  The wilders appear - in human form - as we approach the keep. Enduan releases me to free his hands. I drop back. Running is pointless, but I prefer to avoid violence.

  Enduan offers an extravagant bow. 'Felicitations. We're weary travellers seeking succour.'

  It'd be more believable without the grin, which riles one of the wolf wilders. 'Then why don't you go suck...'

  Saenja raises a hand and he goes silent. 'You're interested in the spring?'

  'That too,' says Enduan.

  'You won't see it,' she says.

  'Starting off negative leaves little room for negotiation.'

  'We're not negotiating.'

  'Artous says it only has a wilder flow of note,' says Enduan. 'If we trust him, what do you lose by letting us have a peek?'

  'If you trust me?' I say 'Are you doubting my skill, or my word?'

  Enduan glances back, but only for a second. 'Your word. But only because you're a thief and a liar.'

  'Scurrilous slander, and without evidence.'

  'That wasn't a denial,' says Enduan.

  'I deny your unsubstantiated accusations.'

  'Carefully worded,' says Enduan.

  Saenja's impassive face hosts a flicker of irritation. 'Both of you can shut up and leave.'

  I try to calm things, or at least establish myself as peacemaker. It might let me avoid getting attacked when things kick off. 'The situation is getting tense, and there's no need for it to degenerate. If you just let him confirm the spring...'

  'None of you are getting in,' says Saenja. It's looking like a matter of principle, and expedience is unlikely to sway her. Her gaze is as wary of me as the others. Probably heard too many exaggerated stories about seers. I can hardly steal the spring. Not easily, anyway. Nor can I shut it off with a snap of my fingers.

  'It appears we're at an impasse,' says Enduan. 'We've no interest in the situation degenerating into unpleasantness, so if you have somewhere more comfortable we could...'

  'Why are you armed if you don't want unpleasantness?' says the aggressive wilder.

  'Ordual,' says Saenja

  He settles back to glaring.

  'There're disreputable types about,' says Enduan. 'A show of force discourages unpleasantness.'

  'Or incites it,' says Saenja.

  Ordual begins pacing back and forth. It does little to ease tensions, and draws the stares of Raod's pack.

  Ordual growls at them. 'Keep yer dogs leashed.'

  'They're offended by your smell is all,' says Raod.

  Which is all it takes to trigger the inevitable.

  Ordual goes for Raod, slipping into wolf form in a couple of steps.

  I back away as the rest leap into the fray. Raod's hounds meet Ordual's charge and hold other wilders at bay, as the shapers command fire and air defensively. The wilders have numbers, and the shapers' defensive moves say they aren't used to fighting them.

  Saenja slips into hawk form and leaps at Enduan. He conjures a foot long blade in each hand - hilts perpendic
ular to the blades and two thirds the way along, so the back of the blades guard his wrists. A longer blade may keep her further back, but she moves quick enough that she may outrace his defences. The shorter blades let him react faster, and he's keeping her back. He doesn't push the attack, possibly still hoping for a calm resolution.

  There's little chance of that.

  One of the wolves charges me. I rush to make sense of the screech of dwimmer surrounding it, and what I want it to be. Forcing my will on it, I change it's tune to something softer, humming to focus my thoughts. The wolf's so focussed on attacking he has no time to react. He changes to a rabbit and carries on a couple of steps before stopping in confusion.

  Recalling its fangs as it charged lets me suppress any guilt I feel at kicking the bunny flying. Not hard enough to do serious damage, just enough to put it out of the fight.

  Free from immediate threats, I focus on their tethers to the spring. I increase their draw, while they're too preoccupied to notice they're pulling more than it should allow.

  While the size of a spring defines how much can reasonably be drawn, you can push it to give more. There are risks. It could burst open wider, which can get explosive. Or it could clog up, forcing it to wash back and seal the spring. This can be done intentionally, if you know how. Which I do notice.

  The flow's almost a symphony. If they weren't so focussed on the fight the wilders could hardly not notice.

  The spring collapses before they do. Their tethers to it blink out.

  'Stop,' says Saenja.

  The wilders - some injured, and one bunny still insensate - back away. Enduan's men remain alert, but don't press it. One of the shapers has a nasty leg wound, and all have scrapes.

  'The tethers to the spring are gone,' I say. 'It's dried up hasn't it?'

  Staring hard at me, Saenja sends a wilder to check. He'll find the tether spikes untouched, and the spring dead. Hopefully that'll mean a peaceable resolution, if not a friendly one.

  *

  Saenja leads her pack into the trees, off to lick their wounds.

  Enduan watches them warily, and it's a minute before his men let themselves collapse and start tending their own wounds. I linger rather than making an abrupt departure, but not for long.

  'Well that was a waste of time,' says Enduan. He glances at the shapers, who took the worst wounds. One probably can't walk unaided. 'And embarrassing for you two.'