CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Ember beamed at her Uncle Shad’s entrance. She could not have imagined a better rescue than the performance he put on. It was worth the discomfort of the past hour to see him like this. Laerdish was not pleased, though, which made it all the more enjoyable for Ember. She’d taken an instant dislike to the fellow, for obvious reasons, and it had absolutely nothing to do with his size.
As soon as the doors slammed open and Shad invited himself into the council’s “party,” Laerdish had surged to his feet.
“There are no weapons allowed in this room, and you were not invited to these proceedings. Guards, seize those weapons, and if the men put up a fight, throw them in jail.”
Shad started to laugh, and Ember was startled to hear DeMunth join him, then Ezeker and the guards themselves.
“They can’t seize me, Laerdish. You know darn well we have as much right to be here as you do.“ Shad snorted, chuckling all the while.
Laerdish reddened, his lips thinned in fury. “You shouldn’t be a part of this council, no matter the votes that got you here. You’re not human and DeMunth has no voice. You are no more a part of this council than that boy.” Laerdish snarled and pointed to Ember, losing control in his anger.
Shad instantly sobered, eyes hardening, and sneered wolf-style. DeMunth seemed not to be bothered by the words. He stood calmly, but sheathed his sword as if he had nothing more to worry about. It seemed clear DeMunth felt he belonged.
“You go too far, Laerdish,” Shad snarled at him.
“Yes,” the large man said, “so I’ve been told, but truth is truth. I speak it as I see it.”
“Too bad you’re half-blind,” came an anonymous voice from somewhere in the council.
Laerdish spun and glared, but aside from a few snickers, no one would claim responsibility for the comment.
“That ‘boy’ is my niece, and I’m here to ensure she gets a fair trial.” Shad stepped menacingly toward Laerdish.
“Pish-posh. There is no way you can prove it, White Shadow. I know for a fact you did not meet this child until recently, and you only have his word that he is Ember Shandae.“ The large man receded to the safety of his padded bench, but Shad kept coming.
“I know and can prove it.” Shad stopped between the guards that held the mage shield in place around Ember.
“How do you propose to do that, when Ember’s own mother won’t claim this boy as her child?” Laerdish demanded.
“Brina doesn’t want to believe what her ears and heart tell her.” Marda startled, her eyes jerking to meet Shad’s. “If this boy is her child, then it is the undoing of her life’s work, keeping Ember away from magic, away from what she sees as sure death. Can you blame her for her denial?” Shad questioned the council in general, ignoring Laerdish now. Many heads nodded in agreement.
“Now, wait a minute—” Marda began angrily. Shad’s eyes narrowed, and she did not finish. She glared at him for a long moment, then doubt crept into her eyes, bit by bit, until at last it left, and she remained silent.
Ezeker stepped back through the shield, a hand on Shad’s shoulder showing support for Ember’s uncle.
“I sent Aldarin out for our fellow council members—White Shadow of the Bendanatu, also known as Shad, and DeMunth, previously of the brothers of Sha’iim. They have seen Ember’s transformation, and thus, know that it is indeed genuine. They have spoken in depth to Ember Shandae, and know her to be what she claims: a girl who is able to alter her appearance and become a wolf, or a boy.”
The council murmured at that.
“Now, brothers and sisters, just because we ourselves are not capable of this feat does not mean it is impossible. Remember, the power of white has been lost to us for three millennia. Ember has already shown her potential, and if you will allow her freedom here within the confines of this room, I have asked her to prove her abilities to you each on an individual basis,” Ezeker concluded.“Please, fellow council members. Allow her to prove herself to you. Let the magic speak for itself.”
The council was silent for a long moment, apparently deep in thought. Laerdish was the first to break the silence.
“Oh, this is ridiculous. It’s obvious the person before us is a boy. What need have we for this? I vote to sever his magic ties and send him out. It’s already been proven he’s a spy—”
“Oh, shut up, Laerdish. Nobody’s proven anything,” said a tall woman in her middle years. “We only have your word that C’Tan sent a spy here, and only a sketch from your spy to prove it. Maybe you’re the spy. We have about as much proof of one as the other,” she added flippantly, but Laerdish’s eyes hardened at her words.
Wisely, he kept further comments to himself.
The woman then spoke to Ezeker. “I call for a vote on the matter of the alleged imposter of Ember Shandae. Free the child and let the magic prove itself.” “Aye . . . yes . . . I agree,” voices called from around the room. Ember’s heart lifted to realize there were many agreeable to Ezeker’s plan.
“A vote then,” Ezeker called loudly. “All in favor of allowing the child to prove herself, say aye.”
“Aye!” came thunderously back, many hands shooting in the air. Aldarin took a quick tally and wrote down the results.
“Those opposed?” Ezeker continued.
Laerdish gave a vocal “Nay!” Few followed his example. He glowered at the obvious desertion of his co-councilors.
“The ayes carry it. Release the prisoner.” Ezeker said. He and Shad turned, smiling at Ember, who was almost weak with gratitude. The guards sheathed their swords and stepped out of position on the star points.
Immediately the air felt different—Ember could feel the shield drop and breathed a deep sigh of relief. The pockmarked guard stepped forward and unlocked her manacles. Ember rubbed her wrists for a moment, then looked at the faces of the councilors before her.
Suddenly her stomach was aflutter. What if she couldn’t do it? What if she couldn’t transform under pressure? There were so many eyes watching her. Shad and Ezeker stood expectantly, confidence and love shining from their eyes. Shad winked, as he usually did, but that didn’t alleviate her fear. It built and built until she was frozen with it, bound as if she were still locked in the manacles that blocked her speech and magic. She searched around, almost desperate for a breath of air, a place of refuge.
And then she found it.
A pair of eyes, doe brown and soft like she had never seen them, met her own—eyes that exuded love and sadness, confusion, hope, and despair. Eyes that begged to be proven wrong, and hoped against hope that they were right.
Her mother’s eyes.
Suddenly Ember felt calm and peace. She knew her mother did not want to believe it was she, but those eyes told her that it was because of fear—fear that she might truly have the magic she so hated—but not because of love—never because of love. Her mother’s eyes held more love at that moment than Ember had seen since she was very young, and suddenly Ember wanted those eyes to be proud of her. With eyes locked with her mother, she began the change. Ember took a deep breath and held it, picturing her face as it should be—green eyes, brown hair, button nose, and strong chin. She saw the image all together, and then as she released her breath, she let the magic flow into her skin like mud between her toes. She felt the shift with only a slight ache to accompany it, and was pleased with the lack of pain.
The most satisfying moment was the gasp that echoed through the marble chambers as the council saw her face reshape itself like clay molded by an unseen hand. The hardest was the gray pallor that crept over her mother’s face as Ember changed. Tears streamed down Marda’s cheeks. Her head shook back and forth.
Ember had become sensitive to others’ feelings. She could read the emotion oozing from her mother. Marda didn’t want to believe what her eyes told her, didn’t want to see that her baby had become everything she feared, everything she had tried to prevent—afraid to see that Ember had grown up.
Ember ached for her mo
ther, but knew this had to be. She closed her eyes, gathering her strength for the next change. Again she took a deep breath and held it while she pictured her limbs as they should be—shorter, thinner, with softer lines and less hair, though no less strong. Her body continued to shape itself to her demands.
Finally she moved on to her torso, adjusting shoulders, narrowing waist and hips. Ember tried to slow the process, but it seemed her body wanted to be normal again, and pushed beyond her ability to control it.
When the transformation was complete, she found herself on hands and knees, panting, tears seeping from her eyes, dribbling onto the marble floor. She breathed hard for several moments, the entire room silent around her. Nobody moved nor hardly breathed as they waited for her to stand. She gathered her feet beneath her and staggered upwards, then proudly thrust her shoulders back and stared defiantly at the council.
They were all stunned, staring at her in absolute awe, including Ember’s grieving mother who had forgotten her anger and fear long enough to admire her at her best. That moment, that look, made the pain worth it, and was a memory Ember would treasure for a long time.
Of course it was Shad who broke the silence. “Any questions?” he asked the council, as blasé as could be.
The silence stretched on for a few seconds longer before Laerdish cleared his throat and spoke. “So what?” He seemed to be shaken, despite his words. “It still proves nothing. Your people do it all the time—”
“Have you no eyes in your head, man?” Shad rounded on him. “This girl can do that which hasn’t been done in at least three millennia. Can you change your face like that?”
“Of course I can.” Laerdish held his head high.
“Not illusion, Laerdish. Can you actually mold your skin the way she has done?”
Laerdish said nothing.
“I thought not. It’s just not done,” Shad continued until Laerdish interrupted him.
“Regardless of whether it is real or illusion, it can be done. The Bendanatu do it, as you know, as well as the MerCats and Phoenixians. The animals have the ability, and we already know her blood is corrupted by it.”
“What?” Marda jerked and faced Laerdish, but he ignored her.
“Besides, it’s all semantics, White Shadow,” Laerdish continued. “If we haven’t seen a white mage in three thousand years, how can we hope to train one?”
Shad was quiet for a long moment, the room waiting expectantly for his answer.
“I hate to admit it, but you pose a good question there,” Shad finally responded.
Laerdish gloated.
“So I put it before the council. The mage laws require us to train this girl. How?” Shad continued.
No one answered for a long time, though the conversation buzzed around them. It was the woman who had spoken against Laerdish who finally spoke up. She stood, awaiting recognition.
“Yes, Sister Shiona,” Ezeker acknowledged her. “You have the floor.”
“It would seem that before we can decide what to do with the child, she must first prove her ability, with no opportunity for dishonesty. I propose her second trial be right here amongst us.” Ember’s heart beat fast. A second trial? She’d already forgotten. She was so exhausted by lack of sleep and having changed her appearance so many times in the last twenty-four hours, she wasn’t sure how much more she could do. What if she failed?
“And how would you propose doing that?” Ezeker asked, but Ember could see the twinkle in his eye. Suddenly she knew what was coming. This was something she could do. “Perhaps if she took the time to read the colors of magic within each of us, it could be proven that indeed she is a white mage,” Shiona continued as if she had come up with the idea. Maybe she had, but Ember had the feeling that Ezeker had put her up to it.
“Excellent idea, Sister Shiona,” Shad seconded the motion.
“Preposterous!” Laerdish objected. “The child’s integrity has already been called into question once. There is no way we can know whether she is being fed the answers.”
Shad growled and would have lunged for the man if DeMunth had not physically held him back.
“Are you crazy, man?” Shad demanded.
“White Shadow! Call yourself to order!” Ezeker turned on Laerdish. “And that is quite enough from you. A motion has been put forth, and it has been seconded. We will test Ember and let her show her merit. Perhaps to alleviate Brother Laerdish‘s fears, we should have silence in the chamber during the trial. Only Ember Shandae and her current examinant will speak during this time, and I will appoint Aldarin to notate her answers—unless there are any objections?” There were none, though Laerdish looked ready to chew nails.
“Good. Then let the testing begin,” Ezeker finished and turned to Ember. “Test me first, child, and speak your answers for the council to hear.”
Ember looked at the rows of people before her and suddenly felt overwhelmed by the daunting task. “I thought eighteen was a lot of people to read, Uncle. You really want me to do all of them? There must be at least a hundred people up there,” she whispered.
Ezeker laid his hand on her cheek and smiled tenderly. “Tonight there are only seventy-three, but, yes, all of them, child. It is the only way. Good luck.“ He waited patiently for her examination of him to begin.
Ember shook her head, but there was no getting out of this one. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and began to examine the aura that surrounded one of her dearest friends. Uncle Ezzie had a rainbow glow about him that took in five of the seven colors of magic. All he lacked was the red and white, but the strength of his colors was neither even nor high. They wavered and merged together, the strongest being blue and green. Ember found herself speaking her thoughts aloud, then opened her eyes and met Ezeker’s gaze.
“Kind of disappointing, isn’t it, child?” Ezeker asked, his eyes twinkling, but saddened.
Ember shook her head, but had to admit to herself that he was right. He was the greatest mage in the area, and his color was weak.
Ezeker chuckled. “You are kind to an old man. It is all right. We are used where our talents take us, Ember, and my talents lay more in teaching and the administration of the academy than in the actual work of magic.” He sighed. “I can do what is required of me, but I would not have the strength to weave the net of magic around Rasann day in and day out, the way many of our members do. I am needed elsewhere. Now, who is next?” He raised his voice as he turned to face the council.
“I am,” a surprising voice came from Ember’s right. She was stunned to see her own mother step forward, a strange mixture of resignation and pride battling on her face.
“Mum?”
“Just do it, Ember. You’ll understand,” Marda said, and it seemed those words held much regret.
Ember shrugged and closed her eyes. They instantly flew open again, her mouth hanging in stunned amazement. She closed her eyes once more, just to confirm what she thought she saw. She wondered if she had lost her mind somewhere during these trials, because what she saw seemed impossible.
Marda had an aura.
And not just any aura, but a rainbow of vibrant greens, blues, and yellows in a dance of magic. Marda was a mage, and a strong one. It astounded Ember as nothing else could have. She was utterly speechless. She stared at her mother for a long time—long enough that the council became restless, shuffling in their seats, long before Marda finally spoke.
“And now you understand,” she whispered, sadness dripping from her like water from a willow.
Ember shook her head. It made no sense, not with all the prejudice her mother seemed to have against women magi, not when she had discouraged Ember from even trying to become a mage. “I don‘t understand, Mum. You made me believe it was bad to be a mage, and yet here you are with color swimming around you. You wouldn’t even let us have magic around the house!”
“It was for your protection, Ember. I thought I was doing the right thing, but I’m beginning to see that I cannot fight destiny. You w
ere chosen long before you were born to become that which we are starting to glimpse now. The Guardians have been connecting people and trying to create you for millennia, since the beginning of time, but . . . I’d already lost your father. I couldn’t stand the thought of losing you, too . . .” Marda trailed off, fighting tears.
“I’m trying to understand, Mum, really I am, but this is so hypocritical.” Ember tried to hold her temper in check.
“I know. You’re right,” Marda responded. “I saw no other options at the time, but I was wrong. I’m sorry.”
That was the last thing Ember ever expected to hear come from her mother’s mouth, and once again she was struck speechless. Marda? Sorry? It just never happened. Not in her entire lifetime had her mother apologized to her. Her childish anger fought with a growing adult understanding. She could not resolve the two, but somehow she found her voice.
“I’m not sure how to deal with this right now, Mum, but thanks for telling me the truth. I’ll think about it, and maybe . . . we can talk later?” Ember asked hopefully, raising her eyes to her mother’s. Marda smiled at her daughter and nodded her head, seeming to fight emotions she did not want to share. It was enough. Ember looked up at the council. “Okay, who’s next?” she prompted them, rubbing her hands together. Several arms shot up at once. Ember found herself having to choose from among the greatest magi of her country, the leaders and healers of Rasann, as they all sat patiently waiting for her to test them. Ember chose the tall woman who had come to her defense earlier.
“Shiona?” she asked, hoping that was indeed the woman’s name. “I’ll take you next.”
The tall woman smiled and stood, all dignity and grace as she flowed down the steps to Ember. Ember had known she was tall, but she hadn’t realized exactly how tall until the woman stood before her. Ember cricked her neck trying to meet the woman’s eyes. She didn’t say anything, but the woman must have sensed Ember’s discomfort.
Before Ember could do a thing, the woman was on her knees in front of her. They were now nearly eye to eye, her head just below Ember’s. Ember smiled in gratitude, honored by the trust this woman showed. It was very humbling.
She closed her eyes and began the process once more, to be repeated time after time over the next three hours. The results were consistent in every instance. Ember was able to read each color within the members of the council, including Shad and DeMunth.
In the end the only mage remaining was the rebellious Laerdish, who refused to come forward. He objected one last time. “This is ridiculous, Ezeker. The girl has proven herself. There is no need for her to read me. I’ll give my vote to the will of the council,” he grumbled, not happy at all.
“No, no, Laerdish,” Ezeker said with obvious glee. “I insist. You were the one who put up such a fuss over her credibility; we must all be united in allowing her to prove her abilities. Please step forward.”
“I won’t do it, Ezeker. I disagree with this entire process . . .” Laerdish burst out. Ember interrupted him.
“It’s okay, Uncle Ezzie. I can read him from where he is. There’s no need for him to get any closer,” she said sweetly.
Laerdish paled.
Ember did not understand why he was so afraid of her, but fear oozed from him like stinky cheese. She closed her eyes and looked at his aura as he headed toward the large double doors.
“Laerdish, I demand that you wait!” Ezeker said, his brows drawn together in fury. Ember glanced at him, then looked away, fascinated by the inconsistencies in Laerdish‘s aura.
“You are not what you appear to be, sir. Your colors are . . . patched, full of holes. Mostly red, very strongly red with some flashes of orange and yellow, but . . .” Ember paused, trying to describe the difference she saw in him compared to the rest of the councilors. It was almost like . . . rusty metal with mud showing through, or a mouse-eaten quilt, only instead of batting showing through the holes, there was darkness, black, color-eating, life-eating in its intensity.
“Your magic is layered. There is color on the top, but it is becoming holey, like a moth-eaten quilt, and underneath it is only black,“ Ember finished. “Why is it black?” she asked, turning to her uncle, but he seemed not to hear.
The council stared in horrified fascination at the large man as he shook and trembled with rage. He fumed at Ember. “You’ve ruined it—ruined it all, you good for nothing . . . changeling! Impure blood, and you’ve ruined me! Do you have any idea how long it has taken to get where I am today? What I’ve gone through, what I’ve done? S’Kotos does not take on his priests lightly, and I’ve had to prove myself time and again to my master. How dare you, child of a misbegotten wolf? Not even a half-breed!”
Laerdish was actually foaming at the mouth.
Ember watched with growing horror as the fat man shredded his clothing in insane fury. Beneath the robes lay not the large belly Ember had assumed, but a grotesque pair of bat-like wings wrapped around his fleshy torso. Unfurled, they hovered behind him as he stood, frothing.
The entire council stood motionless, watching, as Laerdish tried to control himself. Why don’t they do something? Ember wondered. Her heart seemed to stop beating for a moment, then resumed as if it belonged to a racing horse and not the small, almost-woman she was.
“Well, it won’t happen again, child. You can meet my master in the great beyond!” he screamed, suddenly flinging his hand forward, a great fireball hurling through the air directly at Ember. For a brief moment she froze and time slowed. The great ball grew larger as it traveled. She saw her mother lunge, but too late to block the flame. Shad, DeMunth, and Ezeker were all a fraction of a second too late to stop the pumpkin-sized ball from reaching her. Ember didn’t know what to do—but something inside her did.
Without knowing exactly how, she reached deep inside herself to a forgotten center, a place of wind, rain, and light—a place that spoke peace to her soul and pushed it outward. Just before the great ball of fire would have burst Ember into flaming cinders, it halted in mid-air, flared briefly, and died.
Ember had stopped the flame—and had no idea how she’d done it. She didn’t care. She was alive and breathing. She took a menacing step toward the hovering Laerdish, but got no further. The winged beast-man gave a howl of defeat. Ember’s hands immediately flew to her ears before her eardrums burst from the sound. The man who had once been Laerdish leaped, wings clawing at the air to gain height hard and fast. He sent a great flame skyward that obliterated one of the beautiful triangular windows and much of the frame around it, then burst through the opening and into the darkness beyond. Ember heard him bellow his defiance one last time amidst the tinkling of glass and thumps of falling stone, then he was gone.
She pulled herself out of her instinctive crouch and looked around. Every person in the room had their eyes trained on the ceiling in horror, anger, and fear.
Everyone, that is, but Marda. Her eyes were glued to Ember’s, and Ember thought she detected a hint of a smile playing around her mother’s mouth. It was enough for a sob of emotion to escape Ember’s fragile control, and that was all it took for Marda to take the last few steps across the room and gather her daughter into her arms.
Where she belonged.
The Sapphire Flute: Book 1 of The Wolfchild Saga Page 37