Light in the Darkness

by CJ Brightley

  “Not likely.” Dabiel snorted. “I think if I was ever going to start caring about that sort of thing, I would have by now.” At Larine’s concerned glance, she shrugged and grinned. “I’ve got much more interesting things to worry about. Like what we’re going to find in Gemgeda. It’s been three months since a wizard visited. Think anything unusual will have come up?”

  “I doubt it. It’s going to be mostly older folk with chronic conditions. But the sugaring will still be going on, and there’s always some injuries. Sprains, cuts, burns, that sort of thing.”

  “You’ll have to get your father to show me his operation. I can’t quite believe you’re telling me the truth. Maybe your stories about poking holes in trees and getting sugar out are made up tales to fool gullible southerners.”

  Anticipation was as sweet as the memory of maple syrup on her tongue. “It won’t be long until you see for yourself.”

  Larine fought to wrestle the heavy table from beside the door back to the wall where they’d found it. She threw all her weight against the thick slabs of oak, dragging it across the stone floor of Gemgeda’s small Mother’s Hall a few inches at a time. The intense physical effort made it easier to suppress the tears that threatened to form.

  They’d arrived in Gemgeda five days before. Larine’s family had been overjoyed to see her and had extended their welcome to Dabiel when Larine introduced her friend. The two wizards had slept in Larine’s old room, eaten at the table that looked exactly the same as when she’d left, and walked through the streets she remembered clearly. They’d spent their days pouring out the Mother’s power on people whose faces and names she knew, and gone home to sit by the hearth with her beloved family and chat about the day’s events the way Larine had done every evening her whole childhood. Once the worst backlog of cases was dealt with, Larine and Dabiel had taken a couple of hours off one afternoon to accompany her father to the maple forest, and another day had walked the trap line with her mother. It was all just the way she remembered it. Nothing had changed.

  And yet, everything had changed. Things were smaller. Colors were dimmer or brighter or subtly different shades than what she saw in her mind’s eye. People were older. Children she didn’t know swarmed around the feet of adults who’d been her peers. Adults she’d looked up to inclined their heads to her with awed respect. They stared at Flutter on her shoulder and gaped open-mouthed when the Mother’s power poured from her hands. Those whose injuries or illnesses they healed thanked her with shaking, wondering voices. They asked her about Elathir and the Wizards’ Guild and listened to her accounts with incredulous amazement.

  In their eyes, Larine no longer belonged here. She’d gone off to the exotic city and come home changed. She was a wizard, transformed by the Mother from the simple hometown girl they’d known into a magical stranger.

  And the worst part was, it was true. Gemgeda wasn’t home anymore. The things she’d loved weren’t enough for her now. She felt trapped, confined in a shell she’d outgrown. She was impatient for the remaining week of their stay to be over so she could escape. So she could go home.

  Dabiel came back in from emptying the basin and rushed to take the other end of the table. “What do you think you’re doing? This is far too heavy to move alone. Don’t make Flutter heal a strained back or broken fingers.”

  Larine shook her head, but accepted Dabiel’s help. Together they lugged the table to its place. Then they worked to arrange the chairs into concentric circles, ready for the Restday service in the morning. Larine stayed quiet. Dabiel kept shooting her glances, but didn’t try to talk until the room was in order. When Larine dropped into a chair in the inner ring and stared unseeing out the window, Dabiel came to sit beside her. “What’s wrong?”

  Larine didn’t want to answer, but she forced the words out. “Being here—I’ve wanted this for seven years, imagined it, longed for it. I thought I knew exactly what it would be like. But it’s not. I mean, it is, but it’s not as good as I thought it would be.”

  Dabiel nodded slowly. Larine could tell she didn’t understand, but she accepted Larine’s feelings, and that was almost as good. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  Larine scrubbed her eyes. “I doubt it.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “Not really. It’s just something I have to get used to.” Larine scrubbed her palms on her breeches. Flutter arrowed through the window and landed in her lap in a whirr of wings. Gratefully she lifted him to her chest and smoothed the feathers on his head. He cuddled against her, making low crooning noises of comfort.

  Dabiel watched them approvingly, stroking Buttons. “I’m here for you. I’ll be happy to listen if you change your mind.”

  The unstinting support of her familiar and her friend eased Larine’s grief. She drew a deep breath and let it out in a long sigh. “Thanks.” She moved Flutter to her shoulder and climbed to her feet. She reached for Dabiel’s hand and pulled her up. “We’d better get going. I think Father’s got something special planned for the evening meal. He wouldn’t tell me, but he looked smug whenever I asked.”

  “I hope it’s more of those maple-glazed sweet potatoes. I could eat those every day for a year. We’ve got to take as many bottles of maple syrup as he’ll part with back to Elathir.”

  “He’ll fill a dozen crates if I ask.” Larine pulled the door open. “I just—” She broke off as she stepped out and collided with Shiar, who was reaching for the handle. Flutter screeched and launched into the air.

  Shiar caught Larine as she stumbled. His hands lingered on her arms for a moment after he steadied her. “Sorry about that.”

  “It was my fault.” Larine pulled away. “I should have watched where I was going.”

  “No harm done.” Shiar stepped back to let Dabiel emerge from the door.

  Dabiel eyed him cooly. “What do you want?”

  Shiar had continued to press his attentions on Larine during the voyage north. It had flustered her, but she hadn’t wanted him to stop. Dabiel, though, disapproved. She’d taken to glaring at Shiar every time he approached Larine. Larine appreciated her protectiveness, but she resented the implication that Dabiel didn’t trust her to make her own decisions.

  So she returned Shiar’s smile more brightly than she might have. “I’m surprised to see you off the ship.”

  He ignored Dabiel and grinned warmly at Larine. “A few of us were talking about taking a boat up to see the northern boundary stone, tomorrow after the service. We’d need a wizard along, so I offered to invite you.”

  Larine caught her breath. The Law forbade the people of Tevenar from passing the boundary stones, north or south. Wizards were responsible for enforcing the restriction. In all her years in Gemgeda, she’d never been to the landmark. “I’d love to see it.”

  Dabiel stepped forward. “Me, too.” The enthusiasm in her voice seemed genuine, but Larine doubted she’d have been interested in going with Shiar if Larine hadn’t accepted the invitation. “Did you know Gurion Thricebound himself built it?”

  “Of course.” Shiar’s eyes slid from Dabiel and focused on Larine. “You’re both welcome to come.”

  “I promised my parents we’d eat the midday meal with them. Would after that be all right?”

  “Certainly. Come down to the dock when you’re finished. The ship’s cook is going to pack us a picnic for the evening meal.”

  “We’ll be there.”

  Shiar took her hand, squeezed it, and let it slip from his grasp. “Until tomorrow, then.” He gave her a smile rich with promise and turned to head toward the dock.

  Dabiel scowled after him. “I don’t trust him. He didn’t want me to come, I could tell. I bet he hoped to get you alone, off where no one could help you. I bet if I hadn’t been here to invite myself along, you’d have gotten to the dock tomorrow and his friends would have mysteriously decided not to go with you after all.”

  Larine’s face got hot. “Did you stop to think whether or not I would hav
e liked that?”

  “Would you?” Dabiel turned her glare on Larine.

  “It doesn’t matter, because you made the choice for me.” Larine’s confused emotions crystallized into annoyance at her friend. “Stop doing that. I can make up my own mind about Shiar. I don’t need your interference.” She raised her hand to Flutter as he swooped to perch again on her shoulder. “And I can take care of myself. I don’t need you to protect me.”

  Dabiel jutted out her chin the way she always did when she was being stubborn. “I would think you’d be glad I care enough to look out for you. I’d want you to have my back if some snake was after me.”

  “Why do you hate him so much? He’s never done anything but flirt with me. Some people enjoy that, you know.”

  Hurt flashed in Dabiel’s eyes. She stepped back. “I don’t know. He just feels untrustworthy to me. But if you like him, I guess that’s none of my business.”

  “It’s really not.” Larine resisted the urge to apologize. Dabiel meant well, but she didn’t have any right to tell Larine who she could or couldn’t trust.

  “All right, then. Do whatever you want. I’ll stay out of it.” Dabiel mustered a smile and held out her hand. “But let me come along tomorrow anyway? I really do want to see the boundary stone.”

  “I could hardly ask you to miss it.” Larine took Dabiel’s offered hand. “Besides, it will be more fun together.”

  Dabiel pulled her into a hug. “Thanks. I’ll do my best to stay out of your way if you want to spend time with Shiar. You’re right, you don’t need my protection.” She released Larine and regarded her with concerned affection. “Just don’t hesitate to ask if you need my help.”

  “I won’t,” Larine promised. “Now let’s go eat. I’m starving.”

  Shiar turned the tiller of the sailboat while the other journeyman sailors swung the sail across. “We should be getting close.”

  Larine leaned over the bow and squinted at the shore. She could have sent Flutter to scout ahead, but she wanted her first glimpse of the stone to come through her own eyes, not her familiar’s. She caught her breath as the boat came around a headland and a new stretch of shoreline spread before them. “There.” She pointed.

  Dabiel’s intake of breath rewarded her. The tower was tiny in the distance, but unmistakable. Shiar steered the boat toward it as the other sailors pressed forward to exclaim and stare.

  As they drew closer, Larine could make out details. The boundary stone was a tall, conical tower of natural rocks, assembled in a fashion that harmonized with the wild surroundings but was clearly the product of human hands. It stood atop an outcrop of rock that jutted into the ocean. Birds wheeled around it, their cries reaching Larine’s ears. Flutter tensed. She felt his desire to fly, but he remained on her shoulder.

  Shiar turned the boat into shore while they were still well south. It skimmed through the surf. The rest of the sailors piled out and pushed it onto the beach. Larine and Dabiel climbed out and helped drag it high above the waterline. Dabiel jumped back in and boosted Buttons over the side. The pig sprawled in the sand, scrambled to his feet, and waited for Dabiel to join him, as dignified as if he’d just strolled out of the Guildmaster’s office. Flutter swooped down and landed on his back.

  Shiar’s laugh sounded low in Larine’s ear. She turned to see him grinning at Buttons. “Do you know what the sailors call those two?”

  “No, what?”

  “Breakfast.” He looked at her expectantly.

  Larine stared at him, baffled. “What?”

  Shiar smirked. “Bacon and eggs.”

  For an instant she still didn’t understand. When his meaning sank in, she gasped. Then, to her horror, she giggled. “That’s awful.”

  “But funny.”

  She shook her head, blocking her thoughts so Flutter wouldn’t overhear. “You shouldn’t joke about familiars that way. It’s disrespectful to the Mother.”

  “Then why are you laughing?” He tousled her hair as if he was humoring a child. “You’re cute when you’re scandalized.” His hand slid down to her cheek and lingered a moment before falling away.

  Larine scowled at him and turned her back. She stalked over to join Dabiel. Her friend glanced at Shiar but didn’t comment, for which Larine was grateful.

  After the boat was secure and the picnic supplies parceled out, the group set off down the beach toward the boundary stone. Larine walked beside Dabiel, ignoring Shiar. He seemed content to leave her alone, at least for the moment.

  When they finally reached the foot of the jutting headland, Larine could see that the tower of rocks was bigger than it had appeared from the distance. It rose at least three times as high as a tall man, and the base was a good twenty feet across. Combined with the height of the cliff, the peak was more than fifty feet above the sand where they stood. She craned her head back and stared at the rough cone silhouetted against the bright sky.

  Shiar pointed at the forest that bordered the beach. “I bet we can find a trail that leads up there if we search.”

  Dabiel frowned at him. “This is close enough.” She shivered and glanced at Buttons. “We can see it fine from here. We shouldn’t risk accidentally stepping past it.”

  “Don’t you want to go right up to the base?” Shiar eyed the tower speculatively. “If the gaps are big enough, you might even be able to climb it.”

  Dabiel put her hands on her hips. “Don’t you dare!” She swept all the sailors with a withering glance. “I forbid anyone to go closer than this, in the Mother’s name. Buttons and I will stop you if you try.”

  The sailors murmured in disappointment, but shrugged when Dabiel didn’t back down. One of them dropped her pack of food on the sand. “I’m hungry, anyway. Let’s find some dead branches and make a fire.” She headed toward the tree line, pointedly angling away from the boundary stone. Most of the other sailors chimed their agreement, deposited their loads, and followed her.

  Dabiel stepped close to Shiar. Buttons came to her side and she put a hand on the pig’s head. “I mean it.”

  “I’m sure you do, Guildmaster.” Shiar inclined his head with mocking exaggeration. He turned his back, crouched to clear a patch of sand, and pulled out a fire-starting kit.

  Larine dragged Dabiel a few yards down the beach. “Was that really necessary?” she hissed.

  Dabiel glanced over her shoulder at the tower looming above them. “Don’t you feel it? It’s like there’s an invisible wall, and I get more nervous the closer I come to it. Buttons is so jumpy he’s making my skin crawl.”

  Larine was unsettled, too, and Flutter was giving the tower a wide berth as he circled overhead, but she didn’t feel anything as acute as what Dabiel described. “You’re imagining it.”

  Dabiel hugged her torso. “Maybe I am. I just know I’m not going to risk breaking the Law. Either by going any closer myself, or letting anyone else do it. Curiosity isn’t worth a broken bond.”

  Larine looked at the tower and sighed. She would have liked to see it up close. Maybe even lay her hands on the stones Gurion Thricebound had set in place. But she nodded. “I guess you’re right.”

  They went back to where Shiar was arranging a ring of rocks to contain a fire. Larine rummaged through packs until she found a picnic cloth to spread on the sand, and Dabiel sorted the food and set it out. When the other sailors got back, hauling armloads of wood, Shiar had a small blaze going in the kindling. With rapid skill the sailors fed the flames until it was a roaring bonfire. They speared sausages on long sticks and roasted them, toasted bread and cheese, and wrapped sweet potatoes and apples in damp leaves to smolder in the coals. Afterward, everyone sprawled on the sand, replete.

  Larine stared into the flickering depths of the fire, entranced by the dancing, twisting flames. She was so intent that she jumped when a hand fell on her shoulder. She jerked around to see Shiar extending his hand. “Come for a walk with me?”

  She looked around. Several of the sailors had fallen asleep. Others were
wandering along the beach. Dabiel stood far down the shore, Buttons at her side, staring out at the surf. Flutter had found a perch high in a pine tree. Larine looked through his eyes as he scanned the forest floor for any twitch that would indicate prey.

  Swallowing, she accepted Shiar’s hand and let him pull her to her feet. “All right.”

  He led her toward the trees. “Let’s look for a stream. We can refill the water skins before we sail back.”

  She doubted they’d have much luck, but she followed him into the forest. Deep shade quickly swallowed them. At first they struggled through thick undergrowth, but after a while Shiar exclaimed in pleasure and stepped onto an overgrown but distinct path. “I knew there had to be one. Those stones didn’t get up there by themselves. And I expect we’re not the first to want to climb up to them, either.”

  Larine halted, staring at him. “Dabiel said—”

  “Are you going to let her keep you away when we’ve come this far? There’s no danger. You can make sure I don’t misbehave just as well as she can.” The teasing challenge in his voice and eyes suggested it wasn’t only the boundary stone he was talking about.

  Larine swallowed. She really did want to see the stone. Before she could change her mind, she stepped onto the path. “All right.”

  They wound through the woods. Before long the trail started to climb. Shiar took Larine’s arm and helped her up the steepest sections. The trees grew thinner and shorter, twisted into strange shapes by the wind that whistled over the headland. They emerged from their cover to find the boundary stone a few hundred feet ahead, huge and stark against the sky.

  Larine nervously checked, but the path ran a dozen feet to the south of the stone. Shiar quickened his pace, tugging her hand. She sped up, and he broke into a run, towing her with him. She raced at his side, heart pounding, wind in her eyes. The trail ended in a patch of gravel at the base of the stone. Shiar collapsed against the bottom rank of boulders and pulled Larine against him. She fell onto his heaving chest, panting, her breath rasping in counterpoint to his. Fear and thrill warred within her at the feel of his hot body along the length of hers.