“Not at present. I’m afraid he keeps his own schedule.”
She expected him to be disappointed and leave, but instead he edged closer.
“I was wondering if you could tell me some things then.” His smile barely lifted the corners of his mouth. “I was wondering what it was like to have so much Power at work inside you. Can you truly do everything that the mastermage could?”
There was a decidedly unhealthy gleam in his eyes, but Jenna didn’t know what was causing it. So she decided to play it safe.
“I believe so. We haven’t come across anything yet that we couldn’t handle.” She gave the mageling a closer look. She didn’t feel any danger from him, and Ghortin said he seemed harmless, but she couldn’t shake the weird, skin crawling feeling she got whenever he was around.
“Is there anything we can help you with, mage?” Crell said sarcastically as she returned. She only liked a few magic users, and Frankon wasn’t one of them. The undernourished-looking mage jumped out of his skin when she spoke from behind him.
“No.” He composed himself, straightening out his robes slowly as if he hadn’t been surprised by her appearance. “I was inquiring as to the status of her mentor. Good eve, apprentice.” With a dismissive nod, he walked away briskly.
Crell chuckled at his retreating back. “I love being able to do that to him. That man is such a mole dog.” She came forward and handed Jenna a small bowl of stew and some flat bread. She also laid a canteen full of water next to her, for which Jenna was eternally grateful. That fiery stuff that the derawri fighter preferred might seem mild to her, however it was anything but, to Jenna. Now she knew where Storm had gotten such a strong tolerance for the drink.
Jenna looked around the camp as she and Crell ate in silence. Looking back toward Storm, a question popped its way out before she thought about it.
“Has Storm ever been in love?” She looked away from Crell as soon as the words were out, hoping vainly that the sharp-eared warrior hadn’t heard her.
“Now where’d that come out of all of a sudden?” Crell looked up with a twinkle in her eye. “Could it be our young prince has caught the eye of a fair apprentice?”
“No, I thought…” Jenna stumbled, thinking frantically; she had no reason why that came into her head. Aside from some personal thoughts that she wasn’t up to dealing with yet. “I was thinking how sad it is that he was almost married to someone he didn’t love, and that he’ll probably end up in another forced match.”
Crell almost choked on a piece of bread. “What do you mean, ‘he was almost married’? Did something wonderfully awful happen to that wretched Mikasa that I haven’t been told about? There is something evil lurking behind her simpering, mark my words.”
Jenna kicked herself. Maybe Storm hadn’t wanted anyone to know. But surely he wouldn’t mind one of his oldest friends knowing.
“It happened at the temple. Actually, it happened back in Lithunane, before Tor Ranshal and Sir Edgar set out. Mikasa gave Edgar a note for Storm. Edgar gave it to Keanin to give to Storm on Cathedral Island.” She paused for a bit of dramatic effect. When Crell looked ready to take the words from her by force, she continued. “It seems Mikasa was troubled by the recent violence and has decided it’s too dangerous to love a prince. She broke off the engagement.”
Crell gave a whoop, one that was toned down, but yet gave Jenna a taste of what it could have been if they had been in a safe environment.
“That scamp. He didn’t mention it. Well, I suppose we’ve been a bit busy today, so I’ll forgive him. I think this requires a celebration.” She unstopped her flask and took a long draw.
“Let’s go find our newly single prince.” She pulled Jenna to her feet and took off after the unsuspecting Storm.
Storm was leaving Edgar when Crell grabbed a hold of him. She swung him in a circle, gleefully laughing at his confused expression.
“You scoundrel. Why didn’t you tell me of your joyous news? It’s not every day you get unengaged you know.” She turned to Jenna. “You wouldn’t have been exposed to her much, but she was a vicious little thing to anyone who couldn’t advance her status.”
Storm rubbed his face as he realized what the reason for the commotion was. “You heard? I didn’t think it would be proper to be seen celebrating such a somber situation.” He tried not to smile, but failed.
Crell thumped him in the leg, and he gave up trying to look serious. “Since when did I raise you to be proper? I think we should celebrate.” She handed her flask to Storm, who took a long pull. He started to give it to Jenna, but she waved him aside, as Ghortin popped in with a few mental reminders.
“Thank you, but no. As Ghortin so kindly reminded me, we’ve a ways to travel tomorrow, and I’m not going to waste all my energy healing hangovers. Besides, I have to go set the wards.”
Crell swung her around. “How about a small celebration? Don’t forget, you and I are still going through your rite of warrior-hood.”
Jenna started to shake her off, then gave up. From what she’d seen of Crell so far, the small woman would make an interesting debate partner for Ghortin. It was difficult to say which one was more stubborn. “It’s a deal. I’ll meet you back at my tent after I set the wards.”
Crell nodded and wandered back toward the center of camp with Storm.
Jenna gathered a cloak of chaotic energy around her in preparation for her spell. It wasn’t a difficult one, but it had to be perfectly balanced or one side would draw energy from the other, leaving one side unwarded. She decided to set the boundaries a little ways out. The first night Frankon had argued that such distant wards were a waste of energy. Jenna countered by pointing out the uselessness of a ward that warned you only when the enemy was upon you. Crell sided with Jenna, and the matter had been decided. She let the Power of chaos mingle with the words of the spell for a few seconds. This ‘pre-mixing’, as she liked to call it, seemed to give her spells more definition. Although Ghortin said it was an odd way to go about it, he hadn’t been able to find fault with the results.
When she’d given the chaotic Power a chance to know what it was to do, she began to ease it out into the air around her. She was so proud that the spell seemed to be settling nicely that she almost missed a small tug on it.
By the time she sent her consciousness along the spell to find out what it was, the source was gone. She would mention it to Ghortin when he came back, but would keep a close eye out herself. It could have been nothing, or it could have been someone pulling away from her spell.
Satisfied that the spell would last the night, Jenna wandered back to her semi-celebrating friends. For some reason she couldn’t tell the difference between semi-celebrating and real celebrating.
28
Ten days later, Jenna swore as another blast of freezing air stabbed through her cloak. Just when she thought she was as cold as she could get, some misfit of the wind gods came to prove her wrong. Ghortin had made it very clear that magicking up some more supplies in this situation would drain her magic.
It had been getting steadily colder the past ten days, as they moved into the Scareani Mountains. For the last day and a half they had been crossing snow-swept plains, with nothing more than undernourished shrubs for protection from the stinging cold. Everyone’s nerves had been on edge, which, combined with the bitter winds, had made for a quiet trip.
A few hours after mid-day, Crell held up her hand, motioning to stop for the night’s camp. It was an early stop, but they were near the base of Taria, the largest of the mountains that made up the Scareani range. Crell’s scouts had found no better place up ahead, and the small grove of bushes and paltry scraggly trees that Crell was standing in front of would offer at least some protection from the wind.
Keanin wandered miserably up to Jenna, letting his pack drop from frozen fingers. “I may never forgive Corin for this.”
The formerly flashy and flamboyant kelar walked with his head and shoulders down, barely moving his legs any further
than absolutely necessary to keep him from falling too far behind. And from the steady stream of complaining that had been spewing from him, it was clear he felt he was the most maltreated individual in the universe.
Jenna looked around for someone to pawn him off on. “Why don’t you go hang out with Aireys? I thought you two were close.” She looked around for the archer Keanin had been snuggling with as of late.
He gave a rude snort. “There’s something off about that one. I think I should talk to Crell about her archers.”
Jenna grinned as signs of the old Keanin peeked through. “She got tired of putting up with your evil ways, eh?”
“Me?” His golden eyes went wide. “I’m the perfect paragon of virtue, as always. Actually, I think she got to talking with Marta.” He looked around to catch any eavesdroppers. As if anyone would care, or have the energy to care, about Keanin’s love life.
“I think Marta does remember me; she watches me sometimes at meals.”
Jenna hadn’t noticed. Although she had noticed Keanin still glancing at the tall soldier. Which would account for Aireys’ cooler reception, particularly if she too noticed Keanin’s wandering eye.
“If that were the case, don’t you think she would have made some sort of move toward you?” She looked at the ground before them and selected the least lumpy section she could find and started to lay out her tent.
“Not necessarily. She might be shy.”
Jenna almost dropped her tent at that. “Are we talking about the same Marta who damn near kissed the life out of you, a total stranger?”
“That was the drink. It could be that—”
Jenna cut him off with a wave. “Forget it. You know I won’t believe you. In fact, you don’t believe you.” She looked up to see Storm bearing down on them. “I doubt even Storm, your lifelong friend that he is, would believe you.”
Keanin puffed himself up in defense but Storm cut him off.
“I don’t want to interrupt, but don’t you think Ghortin might want to make an appearance? We’ll be reaching Mount Taria and the cave tomorrow.”
Jenna hadn’t told anyone, but Ghortin’s contact had been weak since the ambush ten days ago. Each time he did appear, Ghortin said he couldn’t tell any difference in his connection with her, so he hadn’t been much help.
“I’ll give it a try, but he hasn’t been sociable the past few days.” She closed her eyes and concentrated on contacting her mentor.
“Are we there already?” Ghortin sounded coherent, but his voice had a distant tinny sound to it.
“No, we’re still a day away, but—”
“Then why are you bothering me? I’ve got things to get ready. I’m not completely sure how this transfer thing is going to work, you know. Now, leave me alone until we’re there.”
“Ghortin, they want you to take charge of this final leg. It is your body after all.” His response, or rather lack thereof, was worrying. She would have guessed him to be chomping at the bit to get to his body. She knew she was anxious to get rid of him.
Ghortin was silent for a few minutes, but Jenna could feel him pulling in his resources. Even if he wouldn’t admit to having problems, he was aware of it. When he came back, his voice was steadier, but still slightly echoing, like there was a bad connection.
“I don’t think I should. We’re being followed,” he said.
It was common knowledge that someone, or someones, had been following them since the ambush at the lake. That none of Crell’s expert scouts had been able to get a glimpse of the skulkers said more than enough of their ability. Whoever was behind them wasn’t of the same ilk as the untrained bandits they had fought off before.
Ghortin continued with a heavy sigh. “The person tracking us has magecraft. They haven’t used magic yet, except to shield that they have it. I am barely able to sense the shield, but it’s there. All I can tell you is that the mage who set the shield is Powerful. I don’t think I should make an appearance until we’ve got my body in hand, so to speak.”
Jenna tried to marshal some argument, but soon gave up. Ghortin was still coherent enough to be right. She let him slip back into the dark regions of her mind.
“I’m sorry; Ghortin doesn’t feel he should come out until we arrive at the cave.”
“What’s his problem now? Doesn’t he feel it’s worthy of him to help find his own blasted body?” Storm was more irritable and edgy than she had ever seen him. Jenna hated to think what they would be like by the time they got out of this winter wonderland. They wouldn’t have to worry about enemies stalking them, they’d kill each other.
“For once, I agree with him. Ghortin said our mysterious follower is mage-gifted, but he can’t tell anything more than that because their block is too good. He doesn’t want to show himself until we’re at his body.” She hesitated, and then decided to tell Storm the other reason. “And he’s not sure how to get himself back into his body. I think he’s trying to work something out as we go.”
Storm looked up into the gray sky, mumbling curses barely louder than the wind. “When was he going to tell us this? When we fought our way to the cave and he couldn’t do anything?”
“No,” Jenna snapped back. Sometimes Storm forgot that other people might have reasons that he hadn’t thought of. “Ghortin is who he is. Not only would his pride be injured by admitting ignorance, but his reputation could be as well, possibly fatally. You know a mage relies on how other people think of him. It’s almost more important than actual skill.”
Storm frowned, but relented. “Fine, I understand. But you get to tell Crell we’re without Ghortin on this. I’m sure not going to.” As he spoke, Storm took hold of her arm and propelled her toward the flame-haired warrior. Who, like most of the crew at this point, had a deep frown on her face.
Crell arched one perfect brow at the mode of Jenna’s arrival.
Jenna shot Storm an evil glare as she pulled her arm free, then turned back toward Crell. “Storm wants me to tell you that Ghortin isn’t going to be much help at all until we get to the cave. The person following us has magecraft, and Ghortin doesn’t want them to pick him up magically.”
“I can’t say I like it, I was counting on that—” Crell cut off as a figure came running down the mountain slope in front of them and stumbled into their camp. Dragging Jenna with her, Crell ran forward, shoving onlookers aside. The man was one of her scouts that she’d sent to check the next day’s march. He had a bloody gash down his entire left side and his right hand hung shattered from his shredded arm. His face was barely recognizable.
Jenna rushed forward with Crell. They realized that he had lost too much blood to live. His final act had been to warn them. The ravaged face opened an unfocused eye at Crell’s touch. Fighting fiercely, he managed to unclench his teeth long enough to whisper her name. Crell tried to quiet him, but he doggedly continued. “Ki’, you must know. Came out of nowhere. Got Hjard. Controlled sciretts. Vanished after.”
There was a look of profound sorrow on Crell’s face as she gravely listened to her man’s last report. Jenna knew Crell had seen more death in her life than she would ever wish upon anyone; as Crell had said before, it never grew easier.
Jenna went into her healing trance without thinking. The man was too weak, but she couldn’t let him give up and die. Reaching out, she tried to pull in some of the raging chaotic Power all around them. At first the Power came. Then a wall of brutal darkness slammed into her mind. Blackness threatened to engulf her as she fought to draw in magic the way a drowning woman tries to draw in air. And like a drowning woman, all she did was make matters worse. Forcing her panicking mind to calm down and go slow, she managed to break free of the magic black hole.
She opened her eyes, and weakly took Crell’s hand. “I’m sorry, I can’t help him. I can’t reach any Power.”
Crell continued to look at her scout’s face, barely hearing Jenna’s words. “Don’t worry, he’s beyond help now.” Still dry-eyed, Crell lowered the dead man’s eyelid
s.
After a few moments, Storm helped Jenna up and led her to her tent. She nodded her thanks, and sat in numbed silence for a while. She couldn’t focus on anything. The sciretts that attacked Crell’s men must have had a mage with them. One powerful enough to cause a magic block in his wake. They didn’t want the man revived and they tried to take out anyone who would have tried to heal him.
Once she’d shaken off the numbness, she realized that Crell needed to be told about the mysterious magic block. After a moment’s thought she realized Frankon should be told as well, she wouldn’t want to be responsible for him being skewered in a battle because of that debilitating block.
Jenna went over to where the group was gathered around a camp table looking at a map.
Crell was holding a strategy meeting. “Most of the trails in the deep Scareani are thin and twisted. A more perfect place for an ambush couldn’t be created if they tried. They were probably waiting for us.”
“Crell, I think we’ve got another problem.” Jenna nodded to the rest of the group. “Something went wrong when I tried to heal that scout.”
Crell’s face changed from worry at Jenna’s initial words, to relieved sisterly concern. “Now, don’t you go blaming yourself, or your magic. He was dead before he hit the camp. You tried, that’s what counts.”
Jenna shook her head. “That’s not what I mean. When I tried to call up Power to heal him, I was blocked. I don’t know if it was something to do with his attackers or his injuries or something of this region. But I was almost pulled under. I think we should assume that whoever is traveling with and controlling those sciretts has magic well beyond mine.”
“Or whoever is following us feels we’re getting too close,” Storm added grimly. From the looks on Kern and Edgar’s faces, they had already been apprised of the situation with Ghortin.
“That’s possible,” Jenna granted, although for some reason she didn’t think it was the case. The person following them had been careful not to use magic so far. She wouldn’t even know they were a mage if Ghortin hadn’t told her. “Either way, I don’t think Frankon or I will be able to fight with magic if we’re attacked.”
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