ZYGRADON

by Michelle L. Levigne

  Mrillis caught a few unpleasant expressions in reaction to Breylon's words. Others murmured agreement. In moments, though, excited talk filtered through the meeting hall as those gathered grew excited over the proposed plan.

  Others remained quiet and thoughtful. Mrillis didn't like the prickly feeling of unease that raced down his back and across his scalp, when he saw those reactions. Were those people in agreement with the High Scholar, worried, caught up in contemplating the warnings he gave them and the proposed plan with all its possible flaws? Or were they totally set against him and plotting how to overthrow his leadership?

  "They'd be stupid not to listen and do it," Endor said, when Mrillis reported the gist of the meeting to him, later that day. "But just think about it! In a few years, there'll be enough magic in Lygroes for every Rey'kil. It won't just be the strong who can do magic. Maybe people who didn't even know they were Rey'kil will find out they can do magic." His grin halted, froze, and then turned to a horrified, wide-eyed look. "What if Master Breylon was right about the Noveni? What if they can do magic someday, when there's more than enough power? What if they decide they really don't trust us anymore, and they decide to kill us all and take over the whole land?"

  "Why would they do that? We're their allies, and we're giving them their land back."

  "In another decade, maybe." The other boy shook his red-haired head. "I don't think I'd want to live in a land that's been poisoned for centuries."

  "It's not all poisoned, and it hasn't been that long for a lot of it, anyway. I've seen the maps, when I was visiting Lord Lyon, and there's still at least...oh, almost half the land that's still settled by Noveni. Half the starshowers fall in the ocean, so how quickly could the land get poisoned by star-metal?" Mrillis shook his head. How could his friend be so pessimistic?

  A grand adventure waited ahead of them. As a reward for helping to discover the solution, Mrillis was sure he would be sent with the first group to Moerta to settle and start cleansing the land. He would ask--no, he would demand--that Endor be sent with him. He looked forward to the challenge. He had a right to be involved in that work, didn't he?

  "Still, wouldn't you rather have land that's already settled, and you know won't kill you if you're not careful? Who wants to live where a forest fire has been?" Endor picked up the dagger he had been using to draw figures in the packed dirt floor of the dormitory. He stabbed it into the largest figure. "I'll smash the Warhawk to pulp if he tries to take Wynystrys."

  Mrillis caught his breath, wanting to stop his friend, but fascinated with the fierceness he used as he slashed the images. One was a man, wearing a long cloak and holding a sword aloft. That was easy enough to see. Beside him stood a woman with flowing hair and a long gown, and after her stood three girls, and a little boy sat on the ground.

  The Warhawk had three daughters and a little son just old enough to ride ponies. Did Endor intend to destroy the whole family, if it came down to a war? Mrillis felt his stomach clench in apprehension.

  Then a moment later, he shook off the feeling. They were both being ridiculous. The strange feelings were a result of the long meeting and the rainy weather that followed the battle with the starshower. He needed to get on a horse and ride until he pounded away all the hungry, achy, restless feelings churning through him.

  His unsettled feelings brought to mind the sharp pang he felt when Endor gave Ceera a link bracelet he had carved of wood. It was all of one block of cherry wood, the links smooth and delicate and unbroken. The effort must have taken him all winter. Mrillis was impressed by his friend's effort, but he wanted to punch him for the delight in Ceera's eyes and the impulsive hug she gave the other boy in thanks for the gift.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Starting the preparations for the first Rey'kil settlement on Moerta seemed to take forever. Sometimes Mrillis wondered if everyone deliberately kept it secret from all the students on Wynystrys and in the Stronghold. Or was it just him, Ceera and Endor who were left out, and everyone else knew?

  Mrillis couldn't understand why he would be left out. He would be a part of the settlement--wouldn't he?

  The few times he heard bits and pieces of the plans, it seemed nothing had been done at all. It was always talk, never any actual work, no gathering of supplies, no choosing of ships or leaders. He knew the ships had to leave by late summer to miss the fall storms that would fill the sea between Lygroes and Moerta, yet as summer settled in across the land, nothing had been done beyond lists.

  Three days after equinox, a storm descended from the noonday sky on the sheltered valley where Queen Elysion and her four children spent the summers. Lightning struck. A whirlwind came from nowhere. Trees were uprooted as easily as flowers. And the Warhawk's children died.

  As workers cleared away the rubble of the house and Elysion struggled to live, rumor claimed magic had been involved. It was the only possible explanation for a storm that rose up with no warning, striking out of a cloudless sky on a still, bright day.

  Mrillis rode with Breylon and met Le'esha and Ceera halfway to the Warhawk's fortress, where the mourners gathered. He and Ceera rode in silence, not even talking through the Threads, and listened to the silence between their elders. They stayed silent when they reached the fortress and listened to the words of comfort spoken in a broken voice by the Star Mother who led all the Star Mothers and Star Fathers. The woman was so elderly, her name was forgotten everywhere except in The Book of Stars and Beginnings. She was simply The Star Mother.

  But whispers heard before and after the worship and mourning time, claimed the Star Mother was distantly related to Queen Elysion, a Rey'kil, and she blamed Noveni for the deaths of the royal children.

  Mrillis and Ceera had learned long ago that if they stayed quiet and pretended to be younger than they were, people said many things in front of them that they wouldn't want repeated. The two children wandered through the Warhawk's fortress and across the fields surrounding it, where long tables of food had been set up to feed the many mourners who had come to honor Warhawk Afron and Queen Elysion. They listened, and they heard things that made them feel cold and want to cry and shout in anger. They told Le'esha and Breylon all they heard, because they understood that was why they had been brought to the mourning gathering.

  Rey'kil blamed the Noveni, saying it had been an ordinary storm, but murderers had taken advantage of its fierceness to attack. They claimed Noveni nobles refused to allow a half-blood prince to inherit the Warhawk's throne and sword.

  The Noveni blamed Rey'kil, saying their magic should have protected the royal children. Their proof, many whispered, was that Queen Elysion had survived, and she was pureblood Rey'kil. Why would they kill one of their own, after all?

  Some Noveni believed the Rey'kil knew the Nameless One had planned the attack, and had allowed it to happen so the Warhawk would come running to avenge his family, making himself vulnerable to attack and destruction. If Afron Warhawk died, there would be no one to keep the Rey'kil from driving all Noveni from Lygroes, into the sea. Or so the whisperers claimed.

  Some Noveni blamed the Rey'kil because someone--no one was sure who--had proof that magic had been used. Some Rey'kil blamed the Noveni because they heard someone--no one was sure who--had found proof there was blood magic involved. Just last spring, three Noveni noblemen had been caught working blood magic to punish an enemy.

  'Everyone' knew the Noveni were so jealous of the imbrose of the Rey'kil, they would do anything, even violate the laws of life and truth, to obtain magic of their own.

  Mrillis remembered the day Endor had spoken bitterly against the Warhawk, and slashed the crude drawing of the royal family. He was grateful when he heard the testimony of the men who had investigated the destroyed house and found traces of blood magic. Endor had nothing to do with the attack, no matter how much he hated the Warhawk and his family. If Endor had worked blood magic, Mrillis would not feel his presence through the Threads--and his friend was still there.

  Breylo
n and the Warhawk agreed together to delay the establishment of a Rey'kil settlement on Moerta until the turmoil of bad feelings between the two races settled and cooled. Mrillis watched Breylon and Le'esha grow quieter, more careworn and sadder almost overnight. He vowed that when he was a grown man, he would devote himself to oneness between the two races. Breylon and Le'esha were right, he knew: Noveni and Rey'kil were branches of the same family. He had to work to bring them together; until there was such unity between them that no one could tell the difference.

  * * * *

  Another year went by. Plans for the Rey'kil settlement on Moerta came together quietly, slowly, in preparation for the day the Warhawk himself asked them to begin the cleansing of the Noveni continent. In Lygroes, enchanters established boundaries around the vales, to protect those who could not sense the growing reservoirs of power. As teams of enchanters vaporized the starshowers in the sky, the reservoirs of magic filled. No more star-metal fell on Moerta or in the sea, as those who had a gift for manipulating the sky web grew more deft and sensitive. Even the Noveni noticed the difference and were grateful.

  Other changes happened on Wynystrys that Mrillis decided were just as important, even if they only affected a few people. Nixtan caught three of his friends taunting a little boy who had just arrived on Wynystrys as a student. He broke the nose of one, gave a black eye to the second and jammed the fingers on his right hand against the ribs of the third friend. Mrillis was stunned when he heard the news, but Endor mocked the falling out between friends. He theorized that Nixtan had protected the newcomer because he came from a rich family.

  When his friend's sneering words went on too long, Mrillis stalked out of the dormitory room and walked along the shore of the island. He thought of how Nixtan had stood up for him, when he had been one of the youngest on the island. Mrillis was glad Nixtan had decided to stop being a bully, whatever the reason.

  He couldn't bring himself to go to the healer hall and visit while his former friend recovered from the beating the other three gave him, but Mrillis slipped his honeycake to Nixtan at the first meal the older boy came to, after being released, and earned a lopsided, bruised grin. Endor mocked whenever he saw Nixtan and the handful of first-time students who followed him, hero worship in their eyes. Mrillis thought of Le'esha and her 'ducklings,' and punched Endor's arm to get him to shut up.

  Mrillis turned sixteen, Ceera fourteen, and the Warhawk came to the Stronghold to speak with Le'esha and Breylon about sending Rey'kil settlers to Moerta. Mrillis fully expected ships to be sent as soon as the weather improved enough for crossing the ocean. When nothing happened, his spirits plummeted and he understood a little how Endor could feel and speak so sourly so often. Even when Le'esha granted Endor permission to come inside the Stronghold for visits, proving he had earned the trust of the Rey'kil elders, Mrillis still felt disgruntled with life in general. He tried to cheer up for Endor and Ceera's sakes, when the three met at the highest point of the Stronghold for summer equinox festivities. It was hard to do when Endor had decided to talk about nothing but his disappointment over the postponed mission to Moerta.

  "They do nothing but talk," Endor complained, for what felt like the fiftieth time that day alone. He stomped to the edge of the cliff that looked out over the calm, dark sea.

  Mrillis imagined how easily Endor could fall from the cliff, just a little nudge at the back of his knee to make him stumble. He stepped backwards, shocked at the idea, and more shocked at the strange thrill that went through him. What was wrong with him?

  "Someone attacked the storehouses holding the supplies for our settlers in Quenlaque," Ceera said. "And the ships that were prepared for the settlers have been neglected so long, the boards are rotting. Someone interfered with the magic guards, and set loose woodbugs and other disgusting things to damage the ships. It will take all summer to make them ready again. Ships will sail in the spring, and our mission will finally begin." She smiled and looked out over the sea, her gaze unfocused. Mrillis wondered if she had a glimpse of the future. Perhaps she didn't see the Northern Sea at all, but the ships sailing to Moerta in the spring?

  "Your mission, maybe," Endor grumbled.

  "You are just as much a part of this as anyone else," Ceera half-whispered, confirming Mrillis' growing suspicion that she had indeed begun to have Seeings, growing into her destiny as Le'esha's heir. "You will walk Moerta's soil and help bring healing. Do not reach to grasp for what was never meant for your hand, or you will be burned and bring grief to those who love you."

  "Ceera?" Mrillis felt a shudder through the solid rock under their feet and understood it was not physical, but a reverberation through the Threads that fed her the power for her vision. He reached to grasp her shoulder, but she flinched and stepped backwards, away from him.

  Away from Endor, too, Mrillis realized a moment later. He glanced at his friend, who reached out to Ceera, mirroring his posture. The two traded glances and dropped their hands a moment later.

  "Papa." Ceera gasped and turned sharply, to run to the shelter that covered the stairs leading back down into the Stronghold. Her face was bright with a smile.

  "What was that all about?" Endor murmured.

  "Her father is here. We won't see anything of her until he's gone." Mrillis shrugged, and laughed at Endor's scowl. "Master Candon isn't able to come here very often, he's kept so busy carrying messages or spying for the Warhawk."

  "But this is my first visit here," his friend grumbled. "If he really cared about her, he wouldn't leave her alone all the time, would he?"

  Mrillis had no answer for that. He wondered if Endor thought about his father, who had vanished after the defeat on Flintan. Several times over the years, Endor had said things that made Mrillis think his friend still loved his father, despite all the cruel things he had done, including preparing to sacrifice Endor and his sisters.

  He found out soon enough his certainty that Ceera would be busy was wrong. Candon wanted to meet his daughter's closest friends. He sat with them at dinner that evening and invited them to take a moonlight ride with him and Ceera, to try out the new horses he had brought for the Queen of Snows, as equinox gifts from the Warhawk. Mrillis admired the big, battle-toughened Rey'kil warrior, and he felt like a little boy granted an amazing gift when it became evident Candon approved of him as Ceera's friend and guardian.

  "Even though you seem to lead her into twice as much mischief as she could find on her own," her father added with a grin. He wrapped his arm around Ceera and drew her up against his side, shaking her a little in silent rebuke, and they all laughed.

  Later, Mrillis realized Endor hadn't laughed, and hadn't even tried to smile at the jest. His friend grew more silent and sullen as each day of Candon's visit passed, but at the same time, he never refused a single chance to spend time with Ceera and her father.

  "Oh, you're fine. You're wonderful. He's probably already had the marriage bands made and wrapped in blessing spells," Endor snarled, when Mrillis finally asked him what was wrong, the day after Candon rode away.

  "What?" Mrillis shook his head. He couldn't seem to track Endor's words, and he felt as if the two of them had stepped off a precipice and fell, spinning, in utter darkness.

  "He approves of you. He can't stand me. He all but threatened to slit my throat if I put one hand on his precious little princess. Hates me because I'm a half-blood. It's not my fault!"

  Endor spat, hitting the wall of the room the two shared. He raised a hand and power glowed around his fingertips. Mrillis shifted his sight and saw red Threads twist and warp to slide within Endor's grasp.

  "What do you think you're doing?" Mrillis whispered. Endor wasn't going to use magic to hurt Candon, was he?

  "If I could, I'd--" He stopped, closed his eyes, and held his breath for so long, Mrillis feared for him. "This is stupid," he gasped, exhaling at last. That familiar, cocky grin brightened Endor's face. "What could I do? I don't have enough magic, enough control yet. And it's wrong to hurt him. Cee
ra loves him. Right?"

  "Right." Mrillis shivered, but pushed the uneasiness aside. Endor had once again proven that he was stronger, better than his half-blood heritage. He was a better man than his father, the Nameless One. He had conquered his rage. Endor proved that by laughed and joking with Mrillis and challenging him to races when they left the Stronghold the next day, to head back to Wynystrys.

  Mrillis remembered Endor's anger and hurt feelings when news came, two days later, that Candon's horse had thrown him, breaking his leg and arm and cracking his skull. An investigation showed that something sharp and dirty had lodged beneath the horse's saddle, and when it wore through the blanket pad it had cut into the horse's hide, bringing pain and sickness in the wound. When Candon remounted after a rest stop, the abrupt weight in the saddle irritated the wound. He hadn't been firmly in the saddle yet when the horse reacted in pain and reared. When Candon fought to keep from being thrown, he had pulled the horse off balance. It landed on him, crushing him into the rocky ground.

  Ceera left immediately to tend her father and bring him back to the Stronghold to heal. Mrillis knew his friend couldn't have been to blame, even as he knew Endor would have liked to have hurt Candon. If he had sabotaged the horse's saddle, he wouldn't have been so tempted to use magic to hurt Candon. Would he?

  * * * *

  As students completed their studies in the Stronghold and on Wynystrys, they chose their life work, guided by their strengths and talents, and named where they wished to serve. Many competed for the privilege of going to Moerta, even if they had to wait for the third or fourth or even tenth shipload--and only three ships were to go each year. The greatest adventure and most important work in every young imagination was to destroy star-metal, pull the excess power out of the soil and feed it into the Threads so all Rey'kil could use it.