Wizard of the Grove

by Tanya Huff

  Jago, upon entering the soundproofing, merely murmured, “Interesting,” and continued to place his feet precisely where Raulin and Crystal had stepped. He wished he had the comforting bulk of Sokoji at his back, but the giant had remained in the gatehouse. No one had asked her why, and Jago suspected it was because they hadn’t wanted to hear the reason.

  Crystal kept both arms tight to her sides so they wouldn’t brush against the walls accidentally. Perhaps Kraydak had been unique in mortaring his tower with the trapped souls of the dead. Perhaps not. She didn’t want to find out.

  Why not? If they’re there; they’ll call their Lord, and he’ll have to come. Avreen’s voice slid like silk through her mind.

  Crystal gritted mental teeth but made no answer and Avreen’s mocking laughter accompanied her down the next few steps.

  Raulin squinted but couldn’t see into the gloom that hid the bottom of the stairs. Although their immediate area remained brightly lit, the wizard-light staying with them as they descended, he’d have preferred a little less light where they were and a little more where they were going. He weighed the danger of Crystal sending light ahead against the probable consequences of her depleting her power and decided the gloom would lift eventually on its own. But Chaos, he hated not knowing what he was walking into.

  * * *

  Sokoji watched Jago’s golden head disappear around the first turn in the spiral staircase. She could’ve gone with them to the stair’s end but didn’t see the point as she could go no farther whether she wished to or not. Nor, she admitted to herself, did she want to take a chance that what had waited for her at the bottom waited there still. It was no danger to the others, but she didn’t think she could defeat it again.

  She smiled as she heard a faint sound outside the gatehouse door.

  “Come in, Doan,” she called.

  The door swung open and the dwarf stood on the threshold, his sword drawn and a crescent shaped slice of black marble lying at his feet. “Damned step tried to fold up on me,” he explained when he saw the direction of Sokoji’s gaze. He kicked the piece of stone out of his way and stepped into the room, his brows rising at the limp blades scattered about on the floor. “Had a bit of trouble?”

  She shrugged. “Not really.”

  Doan shoved the door closed and slammed his sword back into its sheath. “When did you know I was following you?” he demanded.

  “I never thought you wouldn’t. Taking another’s word for something is not your way.”

  He jerked his chin at the hole in the floor. “They gone down?”

  “Yes.”

  “All three of them?”

  “Yes.”

  “And I should stay right where I am?”

  “This is her chance to prove herself to herself. Don’t ruin it by upsetting the balance she had achieved.”

  “Pah!” He thrust his hands behind his belt and snarled, “So what do we do now?”

  Sokoji’s expression saddened. “We wait.”

  Doan snorted. He hated waiting. “And we think, no doubt,” he added sarcastically.

  “No. We try not to.”

  * * *

  They reached the bottom of the stairs without incident Crystal couldn’t understand why. Surely Aryalan would’ve trapped the only entrance to her tower. Raulin paused on the last step and Crystal watched anxiously as he lowered one foot carefully to the floor. And then the other. He walked three paces away and then it was her turn. Nothing.

  The room they stood in had been done in the same combination of red and black.

  Enough is enough, sighed a voice Crystal thought was Sholah’s and she had to agree with the sentiment. The vibrant colors only added to the tension.

  She heard Jago step off the stairs behind her, then she heard Raulin gasp.

  “What . . .” she began to ask, then fell silent.

  Out of the shadows that hid the corners of the room, stepped a woman. Strands of gold wove through the thick chestnut of her hair, flecks of gold brightened the soft brown of her eyes, and a sprinkle of gold danced across the cream of her cheeks. She stood almost as tall as the wizard and almost as slender. Her smile, although touched with sadness, brought such beauty to her face that beauty seemed a word completely inadequate to describe it.

  “Mother?”

  Tayer, the Queen of Ardhan, held out her hands. “Have you no welcome for me, Crystal? I traveled far to speak with you.”

  “Mother?” Crystal cursed the break in her voice and reached out with power. This had to be of Aryalan’s making. But it felt like the memory she held of her mother. “You can’t be here.”

  The sadness on Tayer’s face deepened. “The dead can be anywhere,” she said softly.

  “Dead?” Crystal’s mouth went dry. “You can’t be dead. I’d know.” She turned her probe into a spear and drove it into the heart of whatever it was that stood before her. Nothing blocked the blow. Not a woman with a life of her own. Not a creature created by wizardry.

  “Your power can’t affect the dead.” Tayer shook her head and sighed. “I’ve never lied to you, child, why should I start now?”

  “But I’d know,” Crystal repeated, suddenly unsure if she would. “If you were dead, I’d know.”

  “Perhaps not. We’ve grown apart lately, you and I. I blame myself for that.”

  “No, Mother. I . . .” With a shock, Crystal realized this—this something—had more than half convinced her it—she—spoke the truth.

  “You were a miracle, Crystal, and I was never sure of how to treat you. I suppose if I’d treated you like my daughter, and that alone, things would have been better between us.” Tayer gazed sadly into emerald eyes. “But that’s behind us now. I’ve come for another reason. Your father needs you. I’m afraid for him.”

  “Father needs . . .” The words wrapped around her and made it difficult to think. Something was wrong. Something was missing.

  “Mother . . .” No! she told herself. This is not my mother. “How did you die?”

  A blush stained Tayer’s perfect cheek, the expression making her appear absurdly young. “I thought it was only a cold; that it would go away . . .”

  “Oh, mother.” Crystal took a step forward, turned away, then turned back. Tayer had always argued with the Royal Physicians, insisting she was perfectly healthy long before they thought she should be up. This was exactly the sort of thing Crystal had always been afraid would happen one day. Her heart caught in her throat. “Mother?”

  Tayer nodded. “Yes, my darling. I’m sorry.”

  Crystal reached out a trembling hand. It passed through Tayer’s shoulder. Not even a wizard could touch the dead.

  “Crystal, you must go to your father. Now.”

  “I, I can’t.”

  “I never asked you for anything when I was alive, my child.”

  “But I can’t!” Crystal wailed. “I can’t.”

  “Is it because . . . because he isn’t your father by blood?”

  “No!” Forgetting she couldn’t touch, Crystal reached out in shock. “I never . . .”

  “He always loved you as if you were his own.”

  “Mother, I . . .”

  “Please,” Tayer pleaded, her eyes filling with tears. “Your brothers are too young and hurt too badly themselves to help. Your father is so alone now. If you should die in this place, I’m afraid he wouldn’t survive the loss of us both. Go to him, please, prove to him you still love him. He took my death so hard.”

  Death. Lord Death. Where the dead were, so was he.

  And he wasn’t.

  Still speaking, the image of Tayer faded away.

  Built on a memory, Crystal realized as the mists cleared from her mind. And as real as my memories are. And hard on that thought came another. I would know if mother had died I would. We haven’t grown apart. And father know
s I love him. She gained a new respect for Aryalan’s powers then, for, even defeated, the trap left guilt behind to slow the intruder.

  “No . . .”

  Jago, his hands raised in supplication, backed toward the stairs. His eyes were fogged and the expression on his face was that of a man torn between duty and desire.

  Gently, Crystal reached along the link they shared, found the place where Aryalan’s power had lodged, and twisted Jago free. She caught just a glimpse of a brown-haired woman, weeping, and she touched betrayal.

  Jago cried out, a strangled sound of loss and pain, and then his eyes began to focus. His hands fell to his sides and clenched into fists, the knuckles white against his tan.

  “Not really there,” he said huskily. “I should’ve known.” He scrubbed the back of his wrist across his eyes. “A trap?”

  “Yes.”

  “Emotional blackmail?” At Crystal’s nod, his mouth curved into something not quite a smile. “Nasty lady, Aryalan, glad I didn’t know her when she was alive. Everybody’s got something they . . .” He paled. “Oh, Chaos, Raulin.”

  Raulin, who had served as a soldier with Kraydak’s Horde.

  Blood trickled down his chin from where he had bitten through his lip. His cheeks were wet with tears. Gray eyes stared at nothing visible, and, although his shoulder blades were hard against a wall, Raulin’s feet kept moving, trying to back away.

  “Raulin?” Crystal touched his arm. The muscles felt like rock. Without a ready pathway into Raulin’s mind, she had to go slowly and carefully, balancing her need to get him free against the damage she could do if she hurried.

  Gradually, she became aware of an unending parade of the dead. Not the dead as Lord Death presented them, ready to be received back into the arms of the Mother, but bodies, mortally wounded, risen up from their graves. Every one of them—men, women, and children—named Raulin their slayer, demanded justice, and advanced on him to claim it. And Raulin was almost at the point where their justice would be a small price to pay.

  Crystal knew the focus had to be here, somewhere. Desperately, she searched among the bodies, trying not to acknowledge them as real in any way lest Raulin’s guilt absorb her as well. She could feel Raulin’s will weaken with every second.

  There!

  A surge of power, green enveloped the dull red glow, and the victims of the Horde were gone.

  Under Crystal’s hand, Raulin’s muscles went suddenly slack. He swayed, Jago grabbed him, and they both sagged to the floor. With Jago’s arms tight around him and his head against his brother’s chest, Raulin sobbed once, then lay shaking.

  While Jago held him, Crystal stroked his back, her power smoothing away the sharp edges of his pain. She didn’t care if her power attracted something. In fact, she hoped it would. The last time she’d wanted to hit back this badly, she’d leveled a mountain.

  Finally, Raulin pushed himself up into a sitting position. He nodded at Jago, who looked relieved, and met Crystal’s eyes.

  “I never killed any children,” he said.

  Crystal leaned forward and kissed him, putting all her trust and all her understanding into the action. When their lips parted, she murmured, “I know,” against his mouth. And he had to believe her where he might not have believed words alone.

  The three of them stood together, Crystal positioned within the circle of Raulin’s arms and both of them feeling better for the contact. Eyes were carefully averted from the shadows in the corners.

  “Well?” Jago asked. “Do we go on?”

  “Why not? It can’t get any worse,” Raulin declared, but his usual jauntiness sounded forced.

  Crystal didn’t mention that it very well could. There didn’t seem much point.

  The door leading into the tower was locked.

  Raulin eyed it speculatively, his color beginning to return. “Two traps tied to the lock that I can see. Figure on at least two more I can’t. Jago?”

  “Two anyway,” Jago agreed. “Well, I’ve got the steadier hand, so . . .” He slipped a small leather case out of his jacket pocket.

  “You pick locks? Both of you?”

  The brothers exchanged speaking glances.

  “Growing up in the Empire,” Jago began.

  “Gives you an excuse to develop a wide variety of skills,” Crystal finished, shaking her head. “But I’d rather neither of you risk this when there’s a better way.” She reached up and pulled free a hair which changed to a slender silver rod in her hand.

  “You’re going to do it?”

  “No. Tayja is.”

  “The goddess?” Raulin’s voice rose almost an octave. “Crystal, have you gone crazy.”

  “I trust her, Raulin. She took control once before and gave it back.”

  “I’d rather take my chances with the traps.”

  “I’d rather you didn’t!”

  They glared at each other.

  Jago cleared his throat. “If you’re sure . . .”

  Crystal tossed her head. “I’m sure.”

  Raulin transferred his glare to Jago.

  A surge of joy, that could have only come from the goddess, accompanied Tayja as she moved up from the depths of Crystal’s mind.

  Crystal watched as once again her hands took on a life of their own, manipulating the silver probe with amazing dexterity. This time, however, she wasted no energy fighting the possession. Raulin and Jago peered over her shoulders and counted off the traps.

  “Four!” Raulin advanced on the door, hands raised.

  “Wait.” Crystal’s mouth formed the word, but it wasn’t Crystal’s voice. She shoved the probe into the lock and twisted it violently to the left. A sharp crack sounded deep inside the mechanism. “Five!” declared the same voice, smugly. “That is all of them and that one had to be last or it would set off all the others.”

  Still under Tayja’s control, Crystal’s hands turned gracefully in the air. You take a great chance allowing me this much freedom, child. The long, pale fingers flexed. I am a goddess, after all, and as proud and arrogant as my sisters.

  But I know you, Crystal reminded her. And I know you are more honorable than some.

  In her mind’s eye, Crystal saw Tayja smile. Yes, she admitted. More honorable than some.

  As you come to know me, you better know a part of yourself. But the words were so faint, Crystal couldn’t be sure if they came from memory or if Tayja had actually said them as she retreated.

  Then Crystal’s hands were her own again. She stared down at them and frowned, remembering the goddess’ joy as she rose to help. She’d felt it herself, back when Dorses had seen her power as a tool rather than an abomination to be feared. This was important; important to her perception of herself and her perception of the goddesses. She reached for the word that would pull it all together.

  “She got them all.” Raulin pulled the door open a finger’s width. Nothing; no steel plates, no poisoned darts, no cascade of acid, and nothing tried to get through the crack. “I’m impressed.”

  Chaos! Crystal swore. Raulin’s voice drove the word she reached for from her mind.

  “I think your goddess must’ve hung around with a number of less than holy characters.” Raulin readied to open the door wider. “She never learned how to pick locks like that in a temple.”

  I taught how to pick locks in a temple.

  Crystal laughed and passed on Tayja’s message, ignoring Sholah’s indignant, You did nothing of the sort.

  The door, when fully opened, revealed nothing more threatening than a long red and black expanse of corridor fanning to a half circle into which were set three more black lacquered doors.

  “This wizard liked her doors small,” Jago observed. “Sokoji might have made it through this one, but she’d never have got through those.”

  “Surely it’s just the distance,”
Raulin protested. “They can’t be as narrow as they seem.”

  “Well, there’s only one way to find out.” Crystal lifted a foot to step over the threshold, but Raulin jerked her back.

  “Not until we check the corridor for traps.” Only when he knew for certain that the first section was safe did he allow her to advance, followed closely by Jago.

  Behind them, unseen, dull red runes crawled for an instant along the edges of the doorframe, then faded, leaving no sign of their existence.

  They found no traps in the corridor.

  “Maybe this is the easy part,” Raulin suggested as they reached the wider area and paused to study the three doors. Not only were they unlocked and un-trapped, but they had no locks to trap.

  “Maybe.” Jago sounded dubious as he measured his shoulders against their width. “We’ll have to go sideways to go through.”

  “And which one do we go through?” Crystal wondered. “They’re identical.”

  Claws dragged against the marble floor. The prevailing smell of roses changed abruptly to rot.

  As one, they turned.

  The creature advancing toward them supported its weight on its knuckles as much as on its feet. Scimitar-shaped talons scraped as it swung each arm forward.

  “Where did it come from?” Jago gasped.

  “Does it matter?”

  Their daggers looked pitifully small next to the creature’s natural armament.

  Its eyes showed black from lid to lid, it had no nose that they could see, and its mouth, a lipless gash across the width of its face, bristled with a double row of triangular teeth. No neck separated the head from the powerful torso.

  Crystal threw up her hands. An arching green bolt struck the creature full in the barrel chest.

  It hissed, staggered back a step, then continued forward, moving surprisingly quickly on its squat legs. It was on them before they had time to consider flight.

  “Get in close!” Raulin yelled, dropping to avoid a wild swing.

  Jago hit the floor and rolled. Talons gouged the marble near him.

  Raulin grabbed an arm on its next attack—the gray skin felt like wet cork—and used the momentum to slam himself and his dagger point into the creature’s body. He yanked the weapon free, raised it to strike again, and realized his first blow had left no wound.