Light in the Darkness

by CJ Brightley

  “Where?” she asked.

  “I was heading west and south when I came this way. It’s too crowded in the east. Too many mage hunters; they’ve chased away all the good bounties. And, anyhow, things being what they are, I’d just as soon avoid running into any other hunters.”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  They mounted up and rode on at an angle that would bypass the town and take them south out of the Bitterbush Valley. As they rode, Silas couldn’t tear his eyes away from Lainie. She was facing the uncertain way ahead with determination and just a trace of wistfulness on her face, but no fear. She caught him looking at her, and blushed and glanced away, her mouth curving in that shy smile.

  Silas smiled as well. He hadn’t ridden into Bitterbush Springs expecting to leave it a renegade himself, with an illegal student and unauthorized wife. But, he decided, if it meant having Lainie with him, he wouldn’t change a thing.

  Afterword

  Thank you for reading Beneath the Canyons

  Daughter of the Wildings, Book 1. Please consider leaving a review to help other readers decide if they would enjoy this book. To view the complete catalog of my books, please visit http://www.kyrahalland.com/books.html. To stay informed of new releases and special offers, please sign up for my email alerts

  Into the Storm

  A Chronicles of Tevenar Novel

  Angela Holder

  Larine's life is good. She loves her work as a wizard, her best friend is the Guildmaster, her troubled son is finally thriving, and she’s together at last with the man she's dreamed about for years.

  Then one hot, sunny, late summer afternoon, a warning arrives. A giant storm is heading straight for Elathir, threatening everything Larine knows and loves. The Guildmaster has a plan to save the city, but it will require unimaginable sacrifice.

  Larine and her fellow wizards face a terrible choice. Some will live and some will die. For unless enough wizards volunteer to spend their lives to turn aside the storm, thousands of people will perish beneath the wind and waves.

  Copyright © 2015 by Angela Holder

  All Rights Reserved

  1

  Restday, 26 Growing, 976, 16th hour

  Larine snuggled against Hanion, closing her eyes against the brilliant sun. She savored the grainy texture of sand beneath her legs, the rushing murmur of the waves, the happy voices of children and apprentices playing in the surf, Daisy’s soft fur under her hand. After a long week of healing and helping the people of Tevenar with the Mother’s power, it was delightful to spend Restday afternoon relaxing in the company of her familiar and the people she loved. The stiff breeze whipped her hair, providing welcome relief from the sweltering late summer heat.

  She couldn’t imagine a more perfect day. All the struggle, all the pain, all the trials she’d endured were over. Bright sunny days stretched ahead as far as she could see.

  Hanion stroked her hair. “What took us so long? We could have been enjoying days like this all summer.”

  The issues that had loomed so large just a short time ago seemed stupid and petty now. Larine opened her eyes and pretended to scowl at him. “What took you so long, you mean.”

  Hanion chuckled. She loved the deep rumble in his chest under her ear. “Guilty. I confess.”

  She rolled over and sat up. “Hear that, Dabiel? He confessed. What should his sentence be?”

  Dabiel laughed indulgently. “I think he should be confined to your room when not on duty for a week. I expect you’ll find plenty for him to do to compensate you for his crime.”

  “I agree. Do we have a consensus?” Larine poked Hanion in the ribs.

  “I object.” He yelped when Larine tickled him. Between snorts, he gasped, “Wait, wait. I only wanted to suggest the confinement last a month. It will take at least that long to make sufficient restitution.”

  Larine gave him a last few jabs for good measure. “Objection noted and sentence modified accordingly. Do you concur with the consensus now?”

  He caught her hand and brought it to his lips. “Enthusiastically.”

  Larine caressed his cheek, then leaned in for a kiss. She’d hungered for him so long, it was hard to believe she finally had him.

  Dabiel cleared her throat. Larine broke away from Hanion, blushing. They were much too old to be carrying on in public like a couple of apprentices. And it was rude to shut out her oldest and dearest friend, even for her new love. “I’m sorry, Dab.”

  “Don’t worry.” Dabiel scratched Buttons between the ears. The huge hog grunted in appreciation. “I love seeing you so happy.”

  Dabiel had supported Larine through many rough chapters in her life. Larine had returned the favor at times, but the scales had been significantly unbalanced over the years. At least she wouldn’t be burdening her friend with her troubles any more. “We should swim if we’re going to. It’s getting late.” She ruffled her familiar’s fur. “Daisy will never forgive me if she doesn’t get a good soaking.”

  Daisy perked her ears. Are you finally ready?

  Larine clambered to her feet and reached to pull Hanion up. “Sure, sweetheart. Come on, Hanion. Does Thunder want to join us?”

  Hanion glanced down the beach. The gray horse was facing the ocean, head up, sniffing the air. “I don’t know. Normally he would, but he’s been agitated today. He says he smells a storm coming.”

  “That must be why the surf’s so rough.” The apprentices were enjoying the towering breakers, throwing themselves recklessly into the crashing waves and riding them to shore. Thank the Mother her days of watching her son risk life and limb for a momentary thrill were over. For years her time at the beach had been spent scanning the water, constantly prepared to grab her familiar and send golden light shooting to sweep a drowning child to safety. The mother in her was still vigilant, but these days she did her best to relax and let the young parents take care of their own children. There were plenty of wizards on the beach to respond quickly to any emergency that might arise.

  Dabiel frowned and tilted her head, studying the line where the green ocean met the cloudless turquoise sky. “We could use some more rain. Those showers last month helped, but we’re still low for the year. Master Teba is getting worried. She asked me to consider cloud-herding if we don’t get a few inches before long.”

  “Hopefully this will be a good strong storm that will drop plenty of rain and save us the trouble.” Cloud-herding wasn’t difficult, but standing on the roof of the Mother’s Hall for hours while your familiar pushed masses of air around with diffuse billows of the Mother’s power got tedious after a while. Larine much preferred the wizards’ usual work of healing and adjudicating court cases.

  Her friend stared at the horizon for a few more minutes before glancing down at her familiar. “Buttons feels the change in the air, too. It’s just odd there aren’t any clouds yet, with the wind so strong and the familiars reacting. If the waves get much higher the fishing fleet will have to come in. Their catches have been down enough as it is, without them losing days to bad weather.”

  Larine didn’t envy Dabiel the constant worry that came with being Guildmaster. After five years, Dabiel handled the job smoothly and with little apparent effort, but Larine knew her responsibility for the welfare of Tevenar weighed on her. “It will be a shame if the Cooks’ Guild runs out of shrimp, but I think Tevenar will survive. Come swim with us before it’s time to head back to the Hall.”

  Dabiel shook herself. “I think I will.” She slapped Buttons, who didn’t stir his huge bulk from the sand. “You coming, lazybones? If you don’t exercise those skinny legs of yours, pretty soon you won’t be able to—”

  Buttons’s head jerked up. He shot to his feet faster than Larine had ever seen him heave his massive body up. The hog stood stiff and still, staring intently at nothing, his broad ears spread and tilted to catch a voice Larine couldn’t hear.

  “Dabiel, what—” But Dabiel was as frozen as Buttons, her eyes unfocused, her face fixed in an express
ion of intense concentration.

  “Hanion?” Larine reached for him. “What’s happening?”

  He wrapped his strong arms around her. “I think the Mother is speaking to them.”

  That’s what Larine was afraid of. Only a few instances of the Mother speaking directly to a wizard through their familiar were recorded in the Histories. Each preceded a dire emergency. “Warning them.”

  “She’s going to need our help when she comes out of it. We’d better be ready.”

  Larine nodded. Daisy, do you have any idea what’s wrong?

  The dog’s usual playful, energetic demeanor was muted. She whined and licked Larine’s hand. Something bad.

  Her familiar was too frightened for Larine to tease her about the unhelpful response. Daisy was barely more than a puppy. She’d arrived at the Mother’s Hall the previous autumn, a gangly yellow retriever with big paws and an eager tongue. The brown mark of the Mother’s fingerprint on her cheek gave her face a lopsided charm. Larine had fallen in love with her the moment she’d bounded up and slobbered all over her hands. She’d known she’d have to bond again soon, but the loss of her previous familiar was still fresh and raw and she hadn’t felt ready. Daisy made it easy.

  Larine dropped to her knees and put her arms around Daisy. The Mother will tell the Guildmaster what to do.

  Yes. Daisy took comfort from the assurance. Larine tried to share it, but blithe faith came harder to her than to the dog.

  “What’s taking so long?” Hanion had his arms around Thunder’s neck. The horse nuzzled his hair, whether giving comfort or receiving it, Larine couldn’t tell.

  She scooped up Daisy, though she was so big now her weight made Larine grunt, and went to lean against Hanion. He took one arm from Thunder to wrap around her body. They huddled together, wind swirling around them, for what seemed an eternity.

  Finally Dabiel blinked. She swallowed hard and looked down at Buttons. Larine’s stomach clenched. Her friend’s eyes were haunted, her expression anguished. Dabiel’s hands clenched into fists and she drew deep, ragged breaths, as harsh as if she were trying desperately not to suffocate.

  Larine tore away from Hanion and dropped Daisy. She rushed to Dabiel’s side. “What is it? What can I do?” She wanted to embrace her friend, but something in Dabiel’s manner frightened her.

  Dabiel shook her head. She groped for Buttons, who pressed against her. She flattened her hands on his back, rubbing his stiff white bristles until Larine saw streaks of blood where they passed.

  Panic gripped Larine. Whatever the Mother had told the Guildmaster must be terrible indeed for her strong, competent friend to be so distraught.

  Dabiel sucked in a long breath and let it out slowly. Her shoulders slumped. When she spoke, her voice held an awful bleak resoluteness. “We have to go back to the Hall. Alert every wizard on the beach. Tell them to spread the news and report immediately. I’ll address the guild as soon as everyone’s assembled.”

  “Of course. Whatever you need.” Larine nodded at Hanion. He gave her a lopsided grin and swung onto Thunder’s back. They cantered along the shore, Hanion shouting the urgent summons.

  Larine couldn’t leave Dabiel. She reached for her hands. “I’m here for you.”

  Dabiel clutched Larine’s hands. “Smash and blast and burn it, Lar. I never imagined she’d ask something like this of me. Of us.”

  “Whatever it is, you’re equal to the task.”

  Dabiel shuddered. “I wish I was. I wish I didn’t have to ask all of you—” She closed her eyes and swallowed.

  Ice gripped Larine’s heart. “What? Tell me.”

  Dabiel twisted to look over her shoulder at the horizon. Rage and loathing distorted her features. “The storm. It’s big. Bigger than anything Tevenar has seen in generations. And it’s headed straight for Elathir.”

  Larine’s mouth went dry. “Can we survive it?”

  “Not if it hits us directly. The Mother showed me what would happen. The ocean would rise and drown the city. Buildings would be swept away. People couldn’t flee far enough, fast enough. Nothing would be left but death and ruin.”

  Larine stared at her numbly. She grasped at the one faint hope in Dabiel’s words. “Would?”

  “If we don’t push it away.” Dabiel pulled her hands free and spread them wide. “With the Mother’s power. Cloud-herding, but on an enormous scale. The Mother showed me how and where. If we can move it so it comes ashore just a mile or two up the coast, Elathir will be spared.”

  Relief swept Larine, but she couldn’t embrace it, because there was still that horrible bleakness in Dabiel’s eyes and voice. “What will that take?”

  “Wizards will have to go out on a ship. It will need to take them south of the storm so they can push it north. The rest of us will line the shore and do what we can to help, but the main burden will fall on those who volunteer to go.”

  A hollow void yawned in Larine’s stomach. There was only one reason Dabiel would ask for volunteers instead of ordering the wizards of the guild to do what the Mother required. “You mean…”

  Dabiel covered her face with her hands. Her shoulders shook. “Why couldn’t she have asked me to do it myself? She forbade me to go. She said Tevenar needs me, that no one else can lead the country through what’s coming.”

  Larine wrapped her arms around her friend. “She’s right.”

  Dabiel shook her head. She clung to Larine’s neck and buried her face in her shoulder. “I can’t. I can’t do what she asked. I can’t ask them to burn themselves out.”

  “It’s not you asking. It’s the Mother. You’re only relaying her message.”

  Dabiel lifted her head briefly to glare at the horizon, then dropped it back to Larine’s shoulder. Her weight sagged until Larine had to brace herself to hold them both upright. “She has no right. She could do it herself. Just a little nudge, that’s all it would be for her. While for us… You can’t imagine how much energy it will require.”

  Larine gulped. If enough lives were at stake, the Mother’s Law allowed a wizard to offer all the energy stored in their body to fuel the Mother’s power. Familiars, too, could drain themselves completely. The power released by such a sacrifice could accomplish mighty feats. “How much?” Then, the real question. “How many?”

  Dabiel didn’t look up. “Thirty-one,” she whispered. “Thirty-one wizards and their familiars are going to die.”

  2

  Firstday, 30 Plowing, 948

  Larine clutched her rabbit-fur coat to her chest, stroking its soft folds as the ship maneuvered to bump against the dock. She’d worn it until she’d grown so sweaty she had to take it off. Sailors swarmed around her, throwing ropes to the waiting dockworkers. She shrank into the corner between the rail and a tarp-covered boat, trying to stay out of the way. The sun beat down on her head, brighter than midsummer at home, though it was only the eve of Springtide. The brisk sea breeze barely lightened the sweltering heat. How hot would it get in a few months?

  Master Sivan, the messenger who’d escorted her from Gemgeda, smiled reassuringly. “Excited?”

  Larine nodded. Actually, she was terrified, but she wasn’t going to admit that to the calm, confident adult. Two weeks ago he’d turned her life upside-down, and she hadn’t quite forgiven him, even though she knew it was irrational to blame him for the message he’d carried all the way to Tevenar’s most northern settlement.

  Her family had been awestruck by the summons from the Guildmaster, overjoyed that the Mother had chosen Larine, delighted that one of their own would take her place among the holy and revered wizards. Her mother had fretted over packing clothes appropriate for the mild climate of Elathir, tucking in several of her best furs that Larine would surely need during the winter months. Her father had laden her with gifts for her new guildmates, maple mead and candy from his vast sugaring operation. Her siblings had congratulated her for her luck, envy in their voices.

  How could Larine admit that she desperately wanted to ref
use the Mother’s call? She liked the idea of using the Mother’s power to heal and help and show truth. She would have accepted happily if she could have done so while remaining at home. But that wasn’t an option. Wizard apprentices were required to live at one of the Mother’s Halls. The closest was in Elathir, Tevenar’s capital, a two-week sail down the coast. She would have to leave her beloved Gemgeda, where she knew every street and building, every tree and stone, everyone from the oldest grandparent to the newest infant, and travel to the exotic, alien city. And she’d had only a single day to decide.

  Master Sivan had informed her, kindly but without any room for argument, that they would need to leave as soon as the ship could be unloaded and refilled with cargo for the south. Even so, they would arrive in Elathir barely in time for the Springtide apprenticing ceremony. No one could remember the last time the Mother had chosen someone from Gemgeda. Apparently the Guildmaster had ordered the big trading ship to make the voyage north a full month before it normally would, over the strenuous objections of the Traders’ Guild, which was going to lose a good deal of profit from the change in plans.

  In the face of such overwhelming effort taken for her benefit, Larine had buried her fears and gone along with what everyone expected. But her doubts had only increased during the voyage. Now, looking at the huge, sprawling city that could swallow twenty Gemgedas without noticing, she knew she’d made a terrible mistake. She longed to run to her cabin, bar the door, and refuse to emerge until they took her home.

  Instead, she shouldered her pack and followed Master Sivan as he led her across the plank to the dock. She clung to his side as he made his way through the crowded city streets. More people than she’d seen in her life packed every block. Buildings towered on either side, three or four or even five stories tall, scraping the sky. They walked for more than a mile, a gradual but steady climb, until they emerged into a square and Larine saw the Mother’s Hall rising on the far side, a hulking stone rectangle like a manufactured mountain.