Light in the Darkness

by CJ Brightley

  Finally Larine shivered. “We have to decide.”

  “Yes.” Hanion enfolded her hands in his.

  “What do you want?”

  He didn’t hesitate. “I want to say no. I finally found you; I can’t lose you. I want us both to stay.”

  Relief and protest flooded Larine, inextricably mixed. “Smash it, I want that, too. But we can’t. Someone has to go. Do you want to watch the ship sail away with our friends on board? Send them to die to save our lives?”

  “No. But someone has to. Most of the guild will have to endure that loss. Why shouldn’t it be us?”

  Larine shuddered. “I think that would be worse than going.”

  “I know it will. Let others have the glory of sacrificing themselves. Dabiel said it was all right to be selfish.”

  Larine stared at the dark strip of ocean visible beyond the city. Glints of white marked where breakers crashed, their foam reflecting the moonlight. “At least thirty-one of us have to go. Otherwise Elathir will be destroyed. We might all die.”

  “Plenty will volunteer. Most of them don’t have as much reason to live as we do.”

  She swiveled to face him, shocked. “Of course they do! We’re hardly the only ones in love. And everyone has friends, family, children—”

  “So do you.”

  She clenched her fists and squeezed her eyes shut. “He’s sixteen. He’s thriving in his apprenticeship. He doesn’t need me any more.”

  “But what would losing you do to him? He resents the Wizards’ Guild as it is. Can you imagine how he’d react if he believed it responsible for your death?”

  Ice gripped Larine’s heart, but she shook her head. “He’ll be fine.”

  “I hope so.” Hanion didn’t pursue the point further.

  But the doubts he’d raised tormented Larine. She’d tried so hard to help her son. She’d spent so many sleepless nights with worry and fear for him gnawing her stomach. She’d been afraid for so many years that his disregard for the rules would lead him down a dark path to destruction. But in the Traders’ Guild, he’d finally found a craft he loved and could pursue with enthusiasm. Over the last three years, Larine’s fears for his future had been replaced by hope. She couldn’t bear to think of him falling back into his former troubles. Least of all as a result of something she did.

  But if she told Dabiel no, and the number of volunteers fell short, her son would die. His group of traders had arrived back in Elathir last week from their latest trip to the mountains. He was lodged with his master in the temporary quarters the Traders’ Guild provided its members, in the warehouse district near the river. If the storm crashed over Elathir unchecked, he’d be trapped with the rest of the city’s residents, unable to flee to safety in time.

  Images rose before her mind’s eye. Terrified people thronging the streets, pushing and shoving, trampling each other in their panic. Retreating to rooftops as water rose higher and higher. Buildings crumbling under the assault of pounding surf, spilling their screaming inhabitants into the dark water. Men, women, and children striving to help each other stay afloat amid wildly tossing waves, only to slip beneath the surface one by one when their strength ran out. The sun rising over a desolate, broken city, the Mother’s Hall intact on its hill looking down on ruins and corpses. The survivors starving and sickening and dying in numbers far too great for the wizards to save them all. She and Hanion and the rest of her guildmates pouring out their strength to the point of exhaustion day after day for months on end, and still losing hundreds or thousands of people to famine and disease.

  Unbidden, opposing images sprang up before her eyes. The sun rising over an Elathir battered but whole, its people emerging into the streets to repair the damage and share stories of survival with their neighbors. A ship sailing into the docks to be met by a cluster of silent wizards. Sixty-two emaciated human and animal bodies lying in rows on the floor of the Mother’s Hall, while all Elathir honored them for their sacrifice. Thousands of people gathered in the streets watching the bodies go to their graves, mourning, grief-stricken, but alive.

  Larine drew a deep shuddering breath. Conviction gripped her, far too intense to deny. She balled her hands into fists. “I have to do it.”

  Hanion’s arms went around her. “No.”

  “I can’t buy my own life at the cost of others’. I don’t know if it’s the Mother speaking to me, or just my own heart, but I know what I have to do. Please don’t try to talk me out of it.”

  Hanion was silent for a long time, only the crushing pressure of his arms showing he’d heard what she’d said. Finally, his voice grave and soft, he said, “All right. We’ll both go.”

  Larine twisted in his arms and stared at him. “You can’t.”

  “Blast it, Larine, do you think I want to live without you? If you board that ship, I’ll be beside you. We’ll go to the Mother together.” His eyes bored into hers, furious and resolute.

  Love and grief boiled together in her heart. Joy so intense it ached, that he loved her so much. Longing to keep him with her, so that his presence might ease the terror of facing the end. Hope that beyond death he would remain with her, both of them in the Mother’s presence forever.

  But swift on their heels came horror, mounting until it was stronger than any of them. She couldn’t be the cause of his death. He didn’t feel the same certainty she did, that this sacrifice was hers to make. He would never choose to volunteer if she didn’t. She wanted him to live. He would survive the grief of losing her and go on to lead a full life, serving the Mother and Tevenar in ways no one else could, experiencing and learning and teaching, laughing and loving. They would reunite someday, when his life came to its natural end, whole and complete and perfect.

  She opened her mouth to tell him so, but a whine and scratch at the door interrupted her. She pulled away and went to open it. Daisy trotted in, as cheerful as always. Behind her, Thunder clopped through the generously proportioned opening, which had been designed to accommodate even the largest familiars, and went to Hanion.

  Larine shut the door. She dropped to the floor and threw her arms around Daisy. The dog licked her face and snuggled into her embrace, tail wagging. Unstinting joyous affection poured into Larine’s mind.

  She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t ask Daisy to sacrifice her life, too. A familiar could burn out her wizard while preserving her own life, but Dabiel had said both halves of each pair would be needed. Daisy was so young, so vibrant, so full of eager enthusiasm. A world that must snuff out her bright flame to survive was too cruel to be worth saving.

  Why are you sad? Daisy pushed her head under Larine’s hand, demanding a good scratching.

  Larine’s fingers automatically found her favorite spot. You heard what Dabiel said. Wizards and familiars are going to die. Of course I’m sad.

  Daisy regarded her quizzically. Why should going back to the Mother make you sad? When we talked to her, you were happy.

  That was different. Larine remembered the swirling golden clouds and the serene peace she’d felt standing before the Mother. Maybe it was illogical to fear returning to that beautiful, shining place. But she did. Or maybe what she feared was not returning there, of finding nothing beyond death but the end of her existence. Seeing the Mother and talking to her while she was alive didn’t guarantee she’d be there when Larine died.

  No, it wasn’t. Daisy wriggled tighter against Larine’s body. I liked it there. I’d be happy to go back.

  You don’t understand. Animals received human-like intelligence when the Mother touched them, but they retained their animal nature. There were things they didn’t think about the same way humans did. You should get the chance to live here for a long time before you go there to stay.

  Here is nice, too. I like being with you, and I like eating and playing and sleeping, and I like helping people with the Mother’s power. Daisy squirmed around and licked tears from Larine’s cheek. But I don’t like it when you’re sad.

  Larine choked out a
laugh that was more than half sob. Neither do I, sweetheart. She climbed to her feet. Daisy reluctantly stopped licking her and frisked around her feet instead.

  Larine walked over to Hanion, who had his arms around Thunder’s neck, deep in communion with the horse. She waited until he blinked and turned to look at her, frightened but determined. “Thunder is willing.”

  “So is Daisy.” Larine reached for him, and he folded her into his embrace. “I can’t ask her. She’s too young.”

  “Then don’t.” He drew a shuddering breath. “Tell Dabiel no. I will, too.”

  Larine felt ripped in two. She couldn’t choose. Not yet. “Hold me. As long as you can. We’ve got a little time before we have to go downstairs and tell her our decision. Let’s not waste any of it arguing.”

  “No.” Hanion’s arms tightened until they nearly crushed her. She welcomed the pressure and returned it with all her strength.

  4

  Firstday, 13 Plowing, 956

  Larine lifted her face to the chilly sea breeze as the ship completed its turn north. She glanced at Dabiel and laughed for sheer delight.

  Her friend grinned back. “How does it feel to be going home?”

  “Wonderful!” Larine shivered and pulled her brown plaid wizard’s cloak closed. “And cold.”

  “You’ve gotten soft after seven years in the balmy south.” The corners of Dabiel’s eyes crinkled the way they always did when she teased Larine. “Maybe we should have requested the summer voyage instead of the spring one.”

  “Oh, no.” Larine fixed her eyes on the horizon, mentally urging the ship to greater speed. “I’ve waited long enough. I can’t think of a better way to start our first year as journeymen.”

  Dabiel twisted to look at the shore behind them, where the rooftops of Elathir were dwindling in the distance. “It feels strange to be leaving Master Idan behind.”

  “Master Tasha said that’s why they like to send journeymen on a circuit as soon as possible. So we get used to being on our own.”

  “I certainly won’t miss having to review every little thing we do. But I hope we don’t run into anything too complex. It’s scary knowing there aren’t any masters to confer with, even if we need to.”

  Larine nodded. “They wouldn’t have sent us if they didn’t trust us to handle whatever we encounter.”

  “I hope they’re right.” Dabiel scratched Buttons’s head. The big pink pig snuffled in appreciation. “Buttons and Flutter will make sure we don’t mess up too much.”

  Larine reached out with her thoughts to her familiar. Flutter sent her a vivid sensory impression of wind and salt spray and sunlight glittering on water. She reveled in the falcon’s pleasure at soaring fast and high, the endless blue ocean below, the infinite blue sky above. “Of course they will.”

  Both of them were silent for a while. Eventually Dabiel shook her head and flashed a grin at Larine. “Let’s go offer to fill the sails. The faster we get to Gemgeda, the more time you’ll have with your family.”

  Larine enthusiastically agreed. They made their way aft, swaying and stumbling with the ship’s motion, and found Master Del, the ship’s captain, at the wheel.

  “That would be welcome. I don’t like to ask, but I never turn down help when a wizard offers. Shiar, take them to the stern and show them where to direct the air. And bring up some stools for them.”

  The young man beside her gave Dabiel and Larine appreciative glances. “Right this way. But surely we can do better than stools, master. I’d be happy to loan them the chair from my cabin—it’s quite comfortable. And the ones in your office aren’t bad, if you don’t mind me appropriating one.”

  Del shook her head with a laugh. “Go ahead. Although I’m sure they’d be fine without your pampering.”

  “Nothing is too good for our wizard guests.” Shiar gestured for them to precede him with an extravagant flourish.

  Dabiel rolled her eyes at his flirting, but Larine rather liked it. She eyed Shiar while he led them to the stern, pointing out interesting features of the ship as they passed. He was good-looking, with wavy brown hair and amber eyes that shone in the sunlight. Not as handsome as Hanion, but then, no one was.

  She’d long since given up hope of being anything but friends with Hanion. She was too shy to admit her infatuation, and he treated her like a younger sister. She’d watched as he’d gone through a series of relationships with girls who were all much older and prettier than she was. He’d been with his latest for nearly a year. If his normal pattern held, they’d be splitting up soon.

  Larine was a journeyman now. Maybe when she got back to Elathir she could say something…

  Her face got hot. Hanion would laugh. No, worse, he’d be kind. He would reject her gently and respectfully. She wasn’t going to subject herself to such humiliation.

  As they neared the stern, Larine called Flutter in. He was reluctant to abandon the sky, but he arrowed to the ship and swooped to land on the leather pad she wore on her shoulder. She pressed her cheek into his feathers as he settled himself.

  She turned to find Shiar staring at her, open admiration on his face. She blushed. “This is my familiar, Flutter. He’s a peregrine falcon.”

  “Beautiful.” Something in the way he said it made Larine think he wasn’t referring only to the bird. “Clearly the Mother favors you, to grant you such a magnificent creature.”

  Larine shrugged. Flutter screeched and flapped in protest as the motion of her shoulder unbalanced him. “Dabiel always wanted a bird for a familiar. When Flutter showed up at the Hall, we all assumed he was hers.” Larine had felt an immediate connection to the fierce fledgeling, but she would never have stood in her friend’s way.

  Dabiel shook her head, chuckling. “He was exactly what I’d always dreamed of. I was so excited, I didn’t even notice he preferred Larine.” Her grin softened. “Then a herder brought Buttons to the Hall and put him in my arms. He was tiny, and adorable, and he looked at me with the shiniest black eyes I’d ever seen. After that, I never looked at Flutter again.” She caressed the pig and gave Larine a rueful smile. “The Mother made sure we got it right.”

  Shiar nodded, his gaze traveling between the two pairs. “I can tell you’re both perfectly matched.” His eyes settled on Larine, and his voice warmed. “I’m glad you got the partner you deserved.”

  Larine looked away, her face hot. “Thank you. Um, you were going to show us the best place to direct the wind?”

  “Of course.” Shiar stepped to her side, a little closer than she liked. He pointed to the sails that spread broad and white from the masts. “See how they’re angled? The wind isn’t coming from directly behind us, but from about thirty degrees starboard. You’ll need to match it. If the wind you create comes from a different direction, the sails won’t catch it as efficiently.”

  Larine frowned at the sails. “Won’t that push the ship sideways?”

  “The keel keeps us going straight.” He reached for her hands and pressed them together. “Look. Your hands are the boat. The wind pushes, and the water resists.” He pressed his hands on either side of hers. “The ship slides between them.” His hands slid along hers in illustration.

  Her heart racing, Larine pulled her hands away. “I understand.”

  “Then why do you still look confused?” He grinned conspiratorially. “I can explain better later, if you’d like. Until then, use your power to push along with the real wind, not against it, and everything will be fine.”

  “Like this?” Larine raised her hand and pictured what she thought he meant. Flutter sent the Mother’s power bursting from her fingers in a diffuse cloud. The golden light gathered the air and shoved it against the canvas planes of the sails.

  “Exactly.” Shiar gazed at the shimmering glow, his lips parted. “Amazing.”

  Larine grinned. “You haven’t seen the Mother’s power before?”

  “I have. But it’s especially lovely today.” His eyes lingered on her raised hand before shifting to h
er face. He nodded. “I’ll go fetch those chairs now.”

  Larine watched him walk away. She only realized she was staring when Dabiel cleared her throat. “Do you want Buttons and me to join you, or should we take turns?”

  “Turns, I think. This takes some effort. We’re going to have to rest between sessions.”

  “All right. Go on as long as you can, then we’ll take over.”

  Larine leaned back against the stern rail and concentrated on the sensation of the Mother’s power flowing through her. Flutter varied the pressure and focus of the moving air until they settled on what they both agreed was the most effective they could sustain for a while. After that it was just a matter of keeping her cheek pressed to the falcon’s side.

  Dabiel waited until they were settled before she spoke, her tone carefully casual. “So what do you think of Shiar?”

  Larine couldn’t shrug without disturbing Flutter. “He’s all right.”

  “He likes you.”

  Larine forced her shoulders to remain still. “I guess.”

  “Do you like him?”

  “How am I supposed to know? I just met him.” This time Larine couldn’t resist raising the shoulder away from Flutter. He muttered in annoyance when she dropped it, but the flow of the Mother’s power continued unbroken. “He seems nice enough.”

  “He does. I just—” Dabiel shook her head. “Be careful.”

  “Nothing’s going to happen.”

  Dabiel looked away. “I mean, if you do like him, there’s no reason you shouldn’t do whatever you want. We’re journeymen, now, after all.”

  Larine thought about the way Shiar’s hands had felt, sliding along her skin. She wasn’t sure whether she’d liked it or not. His palms had calluses from handling ropes, but the roughness had been interesting, not unpleasant. She was almost sure he’d enjoyed touching her. He liked her. He was attracted to her. She definitely liked that.

  She chose her words carefully. “We’ll see. I’m not in any hurry. We’ve got the whole voyage to Gemgeda, and the whole trip back.” She shot Dabiel a grin. “Maybe you’ll find one of the sailors who appeals to you.”