Without knowing exactly how, she reached deep inside herself to a forgotten center, a place of wind, rain, and light—a place that spoke peace to her soul and pushed it outward. Just before the great ball of fire would have burst Ember into flaming cinders, it halted in mid-air, flared briefly, and died.
Ember had stopped the flame—and had no idea how she’d done it. She didn’t care. She was alive and breathing. She took a menacing step toward the hovering Laerdish, but got no further. The winged beast-man gave a howl of defeat. Ember’s hands immediately flew to her ears before her eardrums burst from the sound. The man who had once been Laerdish leaped, wings clawing at the air to gain height hard and fast. He sent a great flame skyward that obliterated one of the beautiful triangular windows and much of the frame around it, then burst through the opening and into the darkness beyond. Ember heard him bellow his defiance one last time amidst the tinkling of glass and thumps of falling stone, then he was gone.
She pulled herself out of her instinctive crouch and looked around. Every person in the room had their eyes trained on the ceiling in horror, anger, and fear.
Everyone, that is, but Marda. Her eyes were glued to Ember’s, and Ember thought she detected a hint of a smile playing around her mother’s mouth. It was enough for a sob of emotion to escape Ember’s fragile control, and that was all it took for Marda to take the last few steps across the room and gather her daughter into her arms.
Where she belonged.
CHAPTER THIRTY
C’Tan continued to pound the ice wall with fire long after Kayla had gone. She lost all control when the group walked away without even a glance behind them. The anger and desperation drove her over the brink of sanity, and rationality left along with the Sapphire Flute. There had to be a way past.
There had to be!
She’d had it, had been so close to ridding herself of her master’s chains, and she’d lost it. The flute was gone. She sagged in defeat. The fire drizzled from her hands into the sand, warming it to an almost comfortable degree. The water that walled her in sizzled and evaporated with the heat, and still the ice remained.
Gone. What now? Wait another month? Two? A year? How much longer could she continue in servitude to The Destroyer? She had no answers, and all she could feel was despair, fury, and fear.
She was not sure what alerted her to his presence, whether it was the shift of sand beneath his feet, or his breath—perhaps something else. Whatever it was, C’Tan stiffened and rose, almost afraid to turn—but how could she not? His mere presence called her to him, and though internally she fought with what small will remained, he had chained her soul long before.
Compelled, she turned to meet his flaming eyes. Her heart fluttered when she saw him. In appearance, he was everything a woman could desire. That was how he had turned her to him in the end, with his dark hair and lips that could kiss moisture from a rose.
The master called.
“C’Tan.” His voice, soft as feathers, smooth as molasses, but with an undercurrent of . . . what? Nails? Iron? The buzz of a wasp or hiss of a snake? Something menacing, dark lay beneath his voice, like jagged stone below still water. “Have you failed me again? Have you lost the blue keystone once more?”
C’Tan trembled, but stayed on her feet, silent in his presence, defiantly keeping her illusion down. Let him see the ugliness he had created.
“And where is the wolfchild? Have you found her yet? We can’t afford to have her wandering around where she might cause trouble, now can we?” he continued in his falsely sweet voice.
C’Tan could not answer. Her tongue was frozen, her mouth dry, her breath nearly ice in her chest.
“No answers for me, Celena Tan?” His flawless lips quirked in a smile. She continued to stand before him in silence, defying him in the only way she could, though she trembled doing it.
“Perhaps Kardon would serve me better after all,” he threatened, and suddenly the man was there, staggering in the sand, having been pulled from whatever task he’d been doing to appear at his master’s side.
A wave of terror washed over her, and she hated herself for it. He knew just how to manipulate her. She both hated and adored him. C’Tan found her voice. “No, Master. I serve you. I have lost them, yes, but only for a time. I will find them again.”
“Be sure that you do.” He smiled then, his eyes cold and expressionless.
C’Tan turned hard eyes on Kardon, her former master, once again in the presence of the true master, a smirk floating across his face. It infuriated her. She would not let the conniving old man take her place again. She would not be chained to two men. One was horrid enough. She gathered fire to her, and S’Kotos stepped aside, smiling.
Kardon knelt, head bent before the Guardian of Fire in quiet reverence, then turned his adoring face upward. C’Tan pulled heat from the air and the sand, and created a flaming ball that grew from grape, to cantaloupe, to watermelon-size, and still she fed it with heat. Without realizing it, a growl started in her throat. Kardon looked up at that, his eyes expressionless, much like the master’s, though she detected a note of bitter glee in his voice.
“Has it come to this at last then, C’Tan?” he asked without moving from his humbled posture, only turning his head to gaze at her with disgust.
C’Tan’s heart stilled, but she dared not let him know how he affected her even after all these years. The man she called slave was truly in the image of his Guardian, S’Kotos, much more than she would ever allow herself to be. The look in his eyes, the darkness of his soul mirrored his master. Itrepulsed her, terrified her in ways nothing else could. The fireball shrank, the heat settling back into the air and sand around them.
“Not yet, Kardon. I am too tired to battle you now. Perhaps another day.” C’Tan let the emotion empty from her as water from a bucket. Then she changed the subject. “Why are you here?”
“I received a report from Laerdish. I thought you would be interested. Perhaps I was wrong.“ Kardon pushed for the confrontation they both knew was coming. He was like an incurable rash.
When C’Tan said nothing, S’Kotos spoke for her. “Oh yes, please continue,” the Guardian of Fire purred, his half-smile suddenly malicious.
Kardon cleared his throat. Even he was a little unnerved by The Destroyer, she was glad to see. It evened the bar between them.
“Laerdish has been discovered and fled, but he wished to send word that Shandae will be accepted into the mage academy and should enter within a few days.”
S’Kotos growled and turned away from the kneeling man. He sent a fireball of his own toward the ice wall, but it continued to hold.
“That is terrible news,” he said, spinning back toward C’Tan and a still-kneeling Kardon. “I should roast you for delivering such unhappy tidings to me this day. Haven’t I had enough disappointment?” he asked, his eyes beginning to smoke.
“Master, I disagree,” C’Tan said. There was another way to salvage this. “We already have agents in place within Ezeker’s academy—agents who can lead her to our side, perhaps?”
“And a fifth has been accepted into the class with Shandae,” Kardon chimed in.
S’Kotos thought about it and began to smile. “I see what you are saying, children. Yes, indeed. This can be turned to our advantage if handled properly. Are these agents of yours trustworthy, Celena Tan?”
The force of his personality made her tremble again. “Yes, master, the best that I could find. Two of them are of the Mageguard—another, an instructor. My own daughter has been in place for three years already. The fifth will be a fellow student. I have turned him back from his previous age so his young body carries adult memories and experience. He is shrewd and already carries a hatred for the girl. He will find a way if no other can.”
S’Kotos chuckled. It was not a pleasant sound. “Good. Perhaps we can take down the academy and turn the girl at the same time, but what of the flute? And the other keystones? When will you retrieve those for me, C’Tan? I grow tir
ed of your excuses.”
“Master,” Kardon answered for her. “The girl will go to the evahn, I am sure of it. Her father is there. But,” he held up one finger, “I am quite certain they will turn her away. They dare not infuriate C’Tan or yourself at this time. Their position is too precarious, and they have taken a stance of neutrality in this war. My best guess is that they will send her to the birthplace of the flute.”
“Which means we can destroy them all in one act,” C’Tan finished for him, angry that he had taken even that much of her master’s attention. She hated the weakness in herself that craved and detested her master all at once.
S’Kotos began to laugh. His head tilted back, and his entire body shook with his mirthless roar. He stopped as suddenly as he began, and in an instant, he went from laughter to silence. He stepped forward and placed his hands on the heads of each of his servants as an act of benediction. A crowd of whispering voices invaded C’Tan’s mind, along with instructions from the Guardian. Going suddenly from warm to hot, sweat streamed down her face to puddle in her collar. She was pleased to see the master’s touch had the same effect on Kardon. The Guardian of Fire removed his hands, nodded his head briefly to both of them, and disappeared in a blaze of fire.
C’Tan met Kardon’s eyes, and for once emotion burned in them, though she could not quite name what she saw there.
“You owe me,” was all he said as he raised himself to his feet. C’Tan did not respond, unsure what he referred to.
“Gather the troops,” she commanded. “We’re going home."
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
The council stared at the fragmented ceiling in silence. Pieces of stone and glass continued to fall from the edges of the gaping hole with sharp pings and heavy thuds. Marda gave Ember one last squeeze before she released her.
“Well, that explains a lot,” Marda said.
That broke the shocked silence, and everyone spoke at once, some demanding answers, others talking to themselves, some weeping quietly, though whether it was at the destruction of the beautiful ceiling or Laerdish’s betrayal, Ember was not sure.
“What do you mean, Marda?” Ezeker called to the woman. The room quieted, waiting for her response.
“Just what I said. Laerdish‘s exposure explains a lot of things. You know we went to the academy together.” She glanced at Ezeker, who nodded his head. She continued. “He just . . . I don’t know how to explain it. He was never part of a group. He never swam in the crystal lakes, or took in a roommate. He insisted on having his own quarters, though no one else did. Little things that never really fit the image he tried to project. Sometimes he was nice and friendly, and other times, the very soul of contention. How long has he been a part of the council? Twenty years? In all that time, has he ever made a friend?”
No one answered. They all stood looking at each other thoughtfully.
Marda turned to Ezeker. “Is that normal? In twenty years, not to become close to a single person with whom you work daily? I never trusted Laerdish, and now it’s obvious my heart lead me correctly. I only hope he hasn’t damaged us more than we know.”
Ezeker looked alarmed. The tall thin councilwoman, Shiona, spoke up. “Explain yourself, Marda,” she demanded. Ember couldn’t tell if she was angry or afraid when her voice trembled.
“A man can do a lot of damage in twenty years’ time. How much do you think he’s undermined the cause of the academy? How many apprentices has he allowed in who don’t belong there? Or worse, who belong to C’Tan?”
The woman paled noticeably. She was not the only one disturbed by Marda’s questions.
“So what do we do?” asked a short, bearded council member, turning to Shiona.
“We need some help, that’s obvious,” the tall woman answered. “I never suspected.”
He gave a short bark of laughter that held no humor. “Help? Oh, yes, but who to trust? Trust will be in short supply after this fiasco. Are we to believe there are no others among us who have sided with The Destroyer?”
“One who recognized the darkness is hiding in our midst,” Ezeker said with a twinkle in his eye. “One who sees beyond that which blinds us, who has suffered enough heartache at the hands of C’Tan that she will never let her guard down.” He looked steadily at Ember’s mother. Marda raised her chin and glared. “Someone like Marda, wouldn’t you say, council?” Ezeker asked, and faced them directly.
There was silence in the room for a long moment as the council looked at each other, pondering Ezeker’s words. Councilwoman Shiona nodded somberly at Ember’s mother.
“I think that’s a marvelous idea. Laerdish has just left a . . .vacancy.” She glanced at the gaping hole in the ceiling. “There’s no reason Marda can’t fill his seat immediately.”
“Aye!” the council responded together. Most of them seemed relieved.
“It’s settled then. Welcome to the council, Sister Marda,” Ezeker said, throwing his arms around Ember’s mother.
She stiffened and pushed him away. “Now wait just a minute. I can’t accept—you know this, Ezeker. Paeder is—” she choked up and couldn’t continue, her eyes welling with tears. She took a sobbing breath and continued. “I can’t leave Paeder. You know how ill he is, and I can’t allow Tiva and Ren to quit school to run the stables or the farm, and there’s no way they can do both. Someone has to be there, and my leaving wouldn’t be fair to the boys. Nor Ember,” she added, glancing at her surprised daughter.
“But we need you, Sister.” Shiona said. “Is there not some way we can persuade you to assist us? Perhaps we could find someone to help until the boys graduate. Or you could donate the farm to the academy, and we can run it for you. It would still be yours, and would be returned to your care upon the twins’ graduation.”
Marda chewed at her lip thoughtfully, then shook her head once more. “I can’t. The farm means everything to Paeder. Giving it to the academy would crush any dreams he ever had for the place. I just can’t do it.”
“But—” Ezeker started.
“I said no, Ezzie.” Marda mimicked Ember’s name for the old mage and placed her hand on his cheek, then patted it. “Thank you for thinking of me. If things were different . . . perhaps. For now, I’ll spend what time remains with my husband. Are you sure there’s nothing more you can do for him?” Her eyes pleaded with the council.
Shiona shook her head. “I am sorry—we’ve done all we can. He is too far gone. It will be a matter of days before he returns to the Guardians. We shall make his passing as easy as possible.” An awkward silence gathered around the room. Shiona bowed slightly in Marda’s direction. “The offer will stand until you are ready to accept it.”
Marda held herself tall, though the ache obviously brooded beneath the surface. Ember took her mother by the elbow and pulled her gently toward the door. “Come on, Mum. Let’s go see Paeder.”
“Ember, a moment, please.” Shiona grasped Ember’s shoulder with surprisingly gentle strength. “I think the council is in agreement that you have more than proven yourself to us. Wouldn’t you agree, councilmembers?” She spun the both of them to face the crowd. “What say you? Shall we welcome Ember Shandae into the Academy of Magi? Shall we invite the first white mage in three millennia into our midst?”
With glass and pebbles still dropping from the jagged edges of the hole in the ceiling, the council responded.
“Aye! Aye! Aye!”
“Looks like you’re now the Step of Mahal upon Rasann, child,” Ezeker leaned over and whispered in Ember’s ear.
Shiona turned to face Ember. “Welcome, Ember Shandae, and may Mahal guide and bless you in the quest for healing our world,” she said softly. From her pocket, she pulled a copper necklace with a round medallion hanging at the end, then dug in her pocket once more and came up with a white stone. She set the stone in the center of the medallion. A quiet surge of energy bound it to the metal.
“This will mark you as one of the incoming initiates and indicate your mage color. It is wond
erful to see the white amongst us once more. We have much hope for you, Ember Shandae. Much hope.” Shiona placed the charm around Ember’s neck and gave her a brief hug.
With tears in her eyes, Ember looked at the tall woman, then at Ezeker. “Thank you,” she whispered, then turned back to her mother and escorted her across the litter-strewn floor and out the double doors.
No words passed between them as Ember and Marda strolled arm-in-arm through the city of Javak away from the Mage Council and toward the council house. It wasn’t until they passed the houseman and were near the back of the building that Marda stopped and turned Ember to face her.
“I know you had reasons for leaving as you did, Ember, and I know you were angry with me. I’m sorry. I was wrong—but please don’t leave me like that again.” Tears welled up in Marda’s eyes, and her chin started to quiver. “I thought I’d lost you, not once, but three times this week, and my heart has nearly exploded with fear because of it. Please. Will you just speak to me from now on?”
Ember cocked her head. The anger she’d had for so long began to fade with the pain she saw etched in Marda’s eyes. The ache she’d held in for so long began to ease. “I love the idea of that, Mum, but will you listen?”
Marda paused, then offered a timid smile. “I’ll try. Please understand, I only wanted to keep you safe. I know I went about it the wrong way, but I truly did have your best interests at heart. I hope in time you can forgive me.” She took a step toward a door on the right, but Ember grabbed her arm before she could go any further.
“I can forgive you right now if you’ll promise to listen and trust me. For me, dreams are more than a way to process. They are glimpses into the future and tell me things I need to know. They’re not imaginary. They’re not something I can forget. Can you learn to trust my dreams?”
The Sapphire Flute Page 32