Power burned through her, but she did not feel anything change around her. She did not know how to open the—gate? Rift? Channel?
It didn’t matter what it was called; she needed to pass through it. And she commanded the power to do so. She gripped her bushel and focused her arcane strength on ripping apart the air about her.
Energy raced over and through her, scalding the air she breathed. The basket trembled in her arms. She saw in her mind’s eye the motes swirling about her, the material of the atmosphere, and with immaterial fingers she seized handfuls and tore it in two.
There was a faint clap of thunder, quiet as a gently closing door, as the air split and rushed to replace itself. Ariana opened her eyes in wondrous anticipation, but saw only the Ryuven bedchamber about her.
She had disturbed the air, at least. She could do more.
She tried again, forcing the magic into place. Power swirled around her, raking her hair and her skin, tugging at the basket. It whipped at her with cyclonic force, rending the air of her little chamber. She felt her breath sucked away as it stretched at the air, pulled at the fabric of the world.
There was something wrong, something immobile near her. It did not bend with the rushing energy. She looked at it and saw a pillar of brilliant, burning power, like a wellspring of magic.
“Tamaryl!” Her magic failed and spiraled outward, and belatedly she realized the centrifugal inertia of it within the room. Before she could capture it, Tamaryl had erected a barrier to contain the snapping strands of energy.
She opened her eyes to look at him, standing in the doorway. Maru stood behind him, blinking at her.
“Ariana’rika, what were you doing?”
She stood erect. “I was trying to return to my world.”
He stared, and for the first time she saw him speechless. “I—by the—holy Essence within, do you know what you could have done?”
Anger flared. “I could have gone back! I could have tried to stop the battle!”
“You could have been lost forever in the between-worlds, and what would that have helped anyone?” Tamaryl was nearly breathless. “Do you even know how to manage the negentropic momentum of—”
“If I had any choice but to—”
“We’ve come to help,” Maru interjected over both of them.
She checked herself and stared at them.
Tamaryl looked at Maru and then nodded. “Ariana, I’ve come to help you, if you’ll let me. I’ve come to take you back, and I pray they’ll hear your suggestion.”
She caught herself. “You’ll help me?”
“If you recall,” he said wryly, “I wanted to end this war before you did.” He nodded toward the bushel basket in her arms. “You have what you need?”
“An inexpensive herb for you, a precious medicine for us. Oh, I hope it works.”
Tamaryl turned to Maru. “We’ll be arriving in the middle of the battlefield, and I’d rather not be pierced full of barbed arrows upon arrival. I want you to form a shield just below us.”
Maru nodded. “But I can’t hold—”
“You won’t need to maintain it, I hope. It’s just to protect our arrival. After that, Ariana’rika and I will do the rest.” He turned back to Ariana, adjusting his leather breastplate. “We’ll have to interrupt the fighting.”
“Stop an entire battle? Of armies? No pretty display of colored sparks is going to distract an entire army.”
“You’re going to strike them, and hard. Hard enough that they can’t immediately jump up and carry on, hard enough that we’ll have an opening.”
“I can’t. Even a Mage of the Circle can’t spread an effect so wide as that would need, and I don’t want to kill my own soldiers.” She shook her head. “I wish I could take the magic from here with me. It’s so plentiful, I could be much more effective.”
Tamaryl’s eyes widened, and she saw the boy Tam she had known grow gleeful with excitement. “Maru, go and bring the Shard.”
“What?”
“Go! Hurry!” He turned back to Ariana to explain. “We’ll use the Shard to hold an opening here. You’ll be able to pull through that line to our magic. If a human mage can draw our intense power for use in your thin-magicked world...”
Ariana gasped. “It will be an enormous reserve. Like ten thousand amulets at once.”
“You can strike the fighting soldiers. You needn’t reach the entire field at once. If we can stop the center, the others will note the disruption and slow on their own to hear your new orders.”
“My orders... I can’t order an army!”
“You will today. As will I. This is our sacrifice for peace, presuming authority long enough to make them realize it’s possible. You’ll have to sound convincing.” Tamaryl’s eyes held hers, bright with intensity. “I’ll need you to cast, as I’ll be wholly occupied in holding the channel.”
She nodded. “I’ll do it.”
“It’s going to be difficult.”
That much raw power pouring through her would use her hard. It would be difficult, and it would hurt. “I’ll do it.”
“Good.”
He hesitated, looking at her intently. It unnerved her, and she searched for something to say.
He spoke first. “Your father is alive.”
Ariana gaped, and her knees went weak. “Alive? You saw him?”
“He’s fighting—well. He’s fine.” Tamaryl’s hands caught her arms. “Don’t lose your focus, now.”
She nodded through her rising tears. “I know. I will do it. I’m only—oh, sweet all, I’ve been trying so hard not to believe he was dead.”
Tamaryl slid his arms about her and she clutched him, choking as she tried to suppress her sobs of joyous relief. “Later,” she sniffed, trembling. “I can think on it later. First we have to stop the fighting.” Pent grief threatened to burst through her thinning restraint in its abrupt negation, and she could not afford to be crippled with emotion when she would need all her skill and control. “Just—don’t speak, not yet. Later.”
Tamaryl’s wings shifted restlessly, but he said nothing, and after a moment he withdrew, arms and wings pulling back from her. She rubbed at her eyes and nose and tried to fight down her joyful agitation by pressing her hands against her too-tight chest.
Maru returned breathless with the Shard of Elan cradled in his arms. “I am certain I should not have this. Where are we taking it?”
“You will hold a shield below us,” Tamaryl explained rapidly. “I’ll use the Shard to keep the path behind us open, so Ariana may draw energy here to fuel her magic there.”
Maru’s eyes popped wide. “Will that work?”
“We hope it will.” Tamaryl looked at Ariana. “Are you ready?”
She had stopped trembling, her feelings locked away for later. She took a long sash from the wardrobe and fashioned a makeshift harness for the bushel basket to hang from her neck. “I’ll need my hands for whatever magic I’ll be working.”
Tamaryl stepped behind her and wrapped his arms beneath hers, nestling against her body. “So your hands remain free.” She could feel the warmth of him through the opening at her back. “Ready.”
It was black, deep black, and the cold plucked at her like a living thing. How could she have thought to come here on her own? There was nothing, nothing to guide them, nothing to help them find their way to the next world or back to the first. It was all void, all chill, all terribly naught...
And then light burst around them and they were in the sky, even the grey clouds dazzling after the deep dark of the between-worlds. Immediately she felt the shift in power as Maru erected his shield, a frail hemisphere of protection against the hundreds of warriors directly beneath them. A black arrow snapped against the shield and, deflected by the curved shield, flew off into the sky.
Tamaryl’s arms squeezed about her as he strained to keep them in the air. His great wings beat over them, rocking her as his muscles flexed. She lifted her arms and felt for the magic.
<
br /> There! Tamaryl had done it, somehow—a river of power poured into the sky with them, drenching them with arcane energy. Tamaryl was pulling some to himself, lending strength to his overtaxed wings, but what he needed was only a fraction of what tumbled through the rift.
She breathed deep of the cool, clean power and closed her eyes, drawing it inward. It tasted faintly of the void, she could not say how, and it swirled tightly around her as if unwilling to spread into the foreign atmosphere. She gathered it and channeled it, compressing it as it spun. More she gathered, and more.
There was the faint sound of shouting, as from a great distance, but she ignored it. Magic spun about her in a clear stream, a whirling vortex of raw energy, burning hotter and hotter as she forced it upon itself and compressed the spiral further into a disc.
It burned her. It whirled about her and through her as when she healed Tamaryl, roaring into her like the sea in storm, filling her, stretching her, crushing her from within. It blinded her with scorching light and tried to consume her.
Maru’s shield was failing, but now she was ready. She gasped a final, bracing breath and released the pent magic.
It exploded around her, blasting outward from her torso with devastating intensity. The air shattered before it and Ariana crushed her hands against her ears as it thundered with force enough to hurt her closed eyes. Tamaryl wrenched away from the deadly tide of power, faltering, but the thinning stream bore them up, whipping their clothing and hair and stinging skin.
Ariana opened her eyes and saw the wave roll across the plane, staggering humans and Ryuven alike. On all sides, battle slowed.
She could not give them a chance to resume. “Hear me!” she shouted, letting the magic echo through her lungs. “Stand, now, and hear me!”
She looked at the battlefield now for the first time, and she abhorred it. So many... She had known she would face battle one day as the Black Mage, and she had studied it and spoken of it and prepared for it, but there was still so much in the actual sight of it...
And it had all been unnecessary.
Anger lanced through her next words. “Drop your arms! You will not brandish a weapon while I speak. Stop, now!”
The magic roared in her voice, and they stared at her. Then they actually lowered their weapons, though they did not release them entirely, eying the wary soldiers and warriors about them suspiciously. Beyond the reach of her magic, the fighting seemed to slow, as the stillness rippled outward and the combatants paused to stare at the trio midair.
“This is ended.” Sweet Holy One, the more she looked about, the more dead and dying she saw... Fury writhed within her. “You are like animals—no, for animals cease when there is nothing left to gain by fighting. You are less than animals! Monsters!”
She could not feel Tamaryl’s arms now, numb where the magic poured through her. They were sinking toward the ground.
“This fighting has ended. It is finished. Go back to your leaders and clear this field. We have a new way of treating now, and it does not need weapons.” She looked across the field but could not recognize faces. “Where is Taev Callahan? The Indigo Mage?”
She had not realized how still the field had become until she saw Callahan walking toward her, the only movement among hundreds of staring eyes.
She jerked the knot in the sash so that it fell free. “We have—”
And then another movement flashed across her vision, and she spun midair as a human soldier and Ryuven warrior lunged toward one another. She did not know what had triggered them, but they could not be allowed to fight, the entire field would rush to join—
She felt the tingle of released magic an instant before she unleashed her own, and twin bolts, human and Ryuven, cracked into the pair, blasting through them and dropping them already dead. Ariana saw them crumple, saw those around them recoil, saw the field blur through tears of rage.
“You stupid fools!” Magic seethed through her. “Don’t you see that we could be done with all this?”
The ground rose to meet her, and she shoved the basket at the breathless Taev Callahan. “Look there!” she demanded, her voice choking. “Do you see what that is?”
He took a handful of the dried herbs and stared wide-eyed.
“Tell them! Tell them now!”
His voice was not backed by furious magic. “It’s dall sweetbud. It’s an entire bushel of dall sweetbud.” He lifted his head. “This can stop the plague.”
“It’s medicine, priceless medicine. And that is our gift to seal peace.” She turned her enraged glare on the field, looking around at humans and Ryuven and seeing them flinch from her gaze. “The Ryuven will not fight for food, but trade for it. We will not repel them, but welcome their commerce. And there will be no more fighting this day.”
Angry tears blurred her vision. Not now! But she had just helped to kill two fighters, and she had yet to mourn and celebrate, and her body burned and ached with raw power, and all that she had clung to finishing was here, was now, was done...
She stepped past Callahan, leaving him holding the precious basket, and started across the field. Someone moved toward her, and with a flick of her hand she sent him stumbling backward. After that no one approached her, or even remained in her path as she strode across the trampled field, blinking and squeezing her eyes shut and hoping no one could see her weeping.
CHAPTER EIGHTY-EIGHT
LUCA USED THE FIRST of the money Shianan left him to send an ashamed letter to his siblings, breaking the news of Isen’s death, explaining how he had been robbed of his inheritance and enslaved once more. It would take time to reach Ivat, but they deserved to know. It was possible Thir could send around to cancel the letter of credit, so the thieves could not bleed their house. And it was possible Jarrick might come for him again, if he dared return to Alham. Despite what Luca had told Shianan... He did not want to go home again; it was home no longer. He did not know what he did want. But he would not refuse to see his siblings again.
Then, as Luca had once wished his family had searched for him, he searched for Marla and Cole. He did not have the resources of a merchant house, but he’d sent letters to traders near where they had been attacked. Even if he did not reach the trader who had one or the other, another might note the described slaves if there were profit in it. Luca could earn back their price for Shianan.
He was kneeling beside the fountain, scrubbing out Shianan’s water pitcher, when a soldier came running across the courtyard, stumbling with weariness. Luca moved aside as the soldier approached the fountain. But immediately others crowded about, trapping Luca close. “What word? How’s the battle? How do we stand? The horse messenger didn’t tell us a thing.”
“We’re stopped,” panted the soldier, cupping water with his hands. Someone pulled Luca’s pitcher away to fill, and he took it gratefully. “Black Mage and Pairvyn ni’Ai together ordered a truce, surprised everyone. There’s talk of peace—but nothing’s sworn. We need royal word for that.” He gulped more water.
Luca breathed for the first time since the soldier’s appearance. A truce! That was the best he could imagine.
“The king has to ratify Prince Soren’s word?” someone asked.
The soldier lowered the pitcher, beard dripping. “No, and that’s a sticking point—the prince is missing.”
“Missing!” gasped a half-dozen voices.
He nodded and rubbed the back of his hand across his wet beard. “Not dead—missing. There’s some that say the Ryuven took him.”
“A hostage to hold the peace?”
“Maybe. But they’re not claiming him, if they have him.”
There was a moment of muttering while the listeners considered this.
“The Black Mage?” someone asked skeptically. “That’s lowest in the Circle. How does the Black Mage order a truce?”
“She pops into the sky like a seeding Ryuven, floating with Pairvyn ni’Ai and cracking magic to deafen everyone within half a league, and she kills the first man t
o heft a weapon, that’s how.” He nodded significantly. “It’s going to be messy, I’ll gamble—if she did arrange a peace with the Ryuven, ending the raids, that’s one thing, but if she took authority what wasn’t hers to do it...”
“She doesn’t know where the prince is?”
“Who knows? She’s not there. She just walked away. She and Pairvyn both—they just vanished. Went their separate ways and left the generals and the Ryuven lords, whatever they are, to kind of sidle up to each other, scratching their heads.”
Luca kept his face low, listening intently. Ariana Hazelrig had returned safely from the Ryuven, at least. But what had become of the prince? And where was Shianan?
“What now?”
“The horse messenger is to be getting the king’s word on whether we’ll hold to the Black Mage’s peace. No one’s guess what that will be—she’s got no authority to treat at all, but she brought a faith-gift from the Ryuven. The Indigo Mage is gibbering about it, some sort of priceless medicine he says will stop the spreading flux and anything else, it seems. So they don’t want to just throw it back in their winged faces, anyway. And no one knows where Pairvyn ni’Ai is again, and that’s to be considered.” He took another drink. “It’s twisted wrong—but they’re saying the Ryuven will pay in coin for what they want. If the monsters could be trusted, I suppose.”
“Trade with the Ryuven,” someone mused. “They’ve never traded. They’ve stolen and left blood-debts years long.”
“I’ve got to go for the chancellors,” said the soldier. “I need a breather after that.” He dropped the pitcher into the fountain, where it filled and sank, and started away. A few followed him, clapping hands on his shoulders, while others consulted and debated.
Luca stared at the pitcher, watching it drift to the fountain’s floor. Then he summoned his courage and ran after the soldier. “I beg your pardon, my lord, but do you have any word of Commander Becknam? Count of Bailaha?”
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