Starstone

by Denise M. Main

  “Perhaps if I go back to the garden temple...” The idea occurred to her, and she started towards the door.

  “Why don't you go see Balin, ask him?” Druin suggested and sighed as Liath smiled faintly and nodded, her attention already drifting away from him. On the way to his workrooms, he found a maidservant and told her to help the priestess dress, and not to allow her to sink into a trance. There was one particular prison world creature Liath wanted to make contact with. The one she said would cause her death. That, Druin vowed, would not happen.

  Morgan found her almost half an hour later, gazing out of the window at the end of the corridor, one hand raised as if she were about to touch something.

  “Hello, Liath,” he said, halting beside the tall young seer, feeling, as usual, a thrill of emotion flow along his nerves at the sight of her. Everywhere he went, he could sense her presence through his land. Every time she touched anything of Anraun, he felt her moving. Where ever she went on his world, he would know her location; she was bound to him and he to her like no one else ever had been, except perhaps a Nightchild with their Chosen mentor, their Nightlord. That connection surpassed any other on all the known worlds.

  Unfortunately, neither of them knew how to deal with this.

  She started visibly at the sound of his voice, jerking round to stare at him. Morgan looked into her wide startled eyes and wondered what sights they had been seeing.

  “I can't help looking into the darkness,” she said as if reading his mind. “It keeps drawing me back.”

  “Come with me,” he said, taking hold of her hand. “I want you to tell me exactly what you know about this other place.”

  “Father has everything written down,” she replied, resisting the gentle pressure on her hand. “He can tell you. Besides, you know as much as anyone does.”

  “Come with me anyway,” Morgan smiled. “There are a few things I'd like your advice on.”

  “Alright,” she said, and let herself be led down the corridor to his apartment.

  They sat in chairs beside the low-silled window nearest to Morgan's bedroom; on a small table between them were a jug of wine and a dish of fruit. Outside, the sun was beginning to set over the Arconian Sea.

  “The best view of Delgannan and the sea is from this window,” he said, glancing out over the town that sloped downwards from the Great Hall's buildings to the coast. “This is my favorite place in the entire hall; I can sit here and watch the seasons change. Through the window over there, behind you, I can look inland and see the sun rise over the mountains. The first High Lord was a man who loved watching his land and sea – and the town growing up below him. Did you know there is a law which states no building shall be erected in Delgannan over three stories high, and that none shall be built to obstruct the view from these windows?”

  Liath smiled gently and shook her head. When Morgan talked about his land now there was a note of wonder in his voice, as if along with his land-right he'd discovered something else new and precious.

  “I can feel...” he stopped and gave a small self-depreciating laugh. “ No matter... Would you care for a glass of wine, Liath?”

  “No, thank you,” she replied, looking out at the shifting colors which were slowly staining the blue sky.

  But across the other side of the wide country, the exiled prison world drew ever nearer with each turn of the planet as it slid through the many dimensions separating them, travelling along the path which the gem had re-opened for it.

  “Do you remember once telling me what I should look for in a wife?” Morgan asked, resting one black-booted foot up on the edge of the table and running a fingernail down the inside seam of his blue trousers.

  “Yes,” Liath agreed quietly, without taking her eyes off the sunset.

  “Well, Lee, I think I've found just the woman.”

  She was silent for a few moments, then finally looked away from the window at Morgan. “The woman I saw you with was your own creation. You made the land your wife,” she reminded him, ignoring the impossible twinge of jealousy and pain. How could she feel like that about the very thing that nurtured and provided for all Morgan's people? About Anraun itself?

  “So did all the other old High Lords,” he admitted, leaning his head against the high carved back of the chair.

  “No, they were never permitted what you were. They never made the land live in that way. You are the only one – I know, for a while I was her daughter. They may have dreamed her, but you breathed life into her. If I hadn't been there – a reminder of what lay beyond the stone walls of her mind – you would have stayed there forever – enthralled by the Lady Delga...”

  “Liath, I love my land, I'm bound to her, it, by everything there is – but even I cannot think of it in those terms. I can't bring my...creation to court. I can't sire children on her. I can't...”

  “You could,” Liath stated coldly. “You could do even that, but you don't understand yet, Morgan. You don't know a fraction of what you can do.”

  “Alright! I'm not going to argue with you. Just put your imaginings about my land to one side. When we talked about my future wife there was one stipulation that wasn't mentioned – I must love whoever I marry.”

  “I hadn't realized you were such a romantic,” Liath said, using sarcasm to hide her pain, to build a wall between Morgan and herself. So that when she had to leave – one way or another – it wouldn’t hurt so much.

  The High Lord raised an eyebrow, and pouring out a cup of wine for them both, let her continue.

  “Besides, love isn't always immediate, is it? Even two people who initially dislike each other could eventually find love together. Anyway,” she said slowly, her attention being drawn back towards the window, not even noticing the cup Morgan slid across the table towards her, “there's more to a High Lord's marriage than that...”

  Morgan clenched his jaw in annoyance; all his life he’d been used to people listening when he talked, and replying with acceptable comment. Liath didn't seem to be doing much of either now.

  “I love this woman,” he said.

  And Liath’s heart seemed to stop. There was a long pause before she answered – much to Morgan's satisfaction. But since she was looking away from him, he didn't see the anguish in her eyes, nor realize how hard it was for her not to show how much his admission hurt.

  “Does she love you?”

  “I think so. But she hasn't said it in so many words.”

  “Perhaps you ought to ask her,” she suggested quietly, then suddenly stood up. “I must go now.”

  “Sit down, Liath!” Morgan ordered. “You're always running off and leaving conversations half-finished!” Goddess knew, he loved her more than anything else in the world, but this strangeness was so frustrating. She wouldn’t talk to him; even when they were in the same room, she hardly even looked at him! He knew so much about her, now, yet he didn’t know what to do. He looked down, saw his hand clenched into a fist, so tightly it almost cramped. Flexing his fingers, he watched Liath. Avoiding his eyes, she sat back down and stared out into the slowly darkening evening.

  “And why do windows attract you so much?” he asked quietly.

  She shook her head, and a mist began to gather over the sea. A single raindrop trickled down the glass pane like a tear on a smooth cheek.

  “You always seem to be standing by one or looking out of one. Is there any particular reason – or do you just like the view?”

  “What?” she asked, watching the raindrop. “Oh... a window seems to help me look through into the prison world.”

  “So while I've been talking, you've been watching another world. Have you heard anything I've said?” he demanded.

  “Yes. I have. Every single word,” she sighed unhappily.

  Morgan stood up and yanked the heavy drapes shut over the window. Liath looked up at him in mild surprise, then back at the drapes, a slightly worried expression growing on her face. “I must find Father!” she stated and almost ran to the door.
>
  “What? Liath! Come back here!” he shouted as the door closed behind her. “Damn that girl,” he muttered, striding across the room. When he stepped out into the corridor, Liath was nowhere in sight. Thinking, hoping, she might have gone into Druin's rooms, he knocked on the door long enough to realize there was no one inside to answer. Cursing the time wasted, he hurried along to the gallery and scanned the hall below. Forgetting in his concern, he could simply have used his mind and their newly-forged bond to locate the girl. That now he could travel in many more ways than on foot.

  “Balin!” he called, seeing the harper striding towards the far end of the hall. “Have you seen Lee?”

  The bard turned and looked back, “Yes. She headed to the east wing a few moments ago. I called out to her, but she didn't stop. I'm going to get Druin.”

  Morgan nodded and set off along the gallery towards the empty guest wing, checking each room as he passed and finally arriving at the tall window at the end of the corridor.

  Glancing through it into the lamp-lit gardens, he saw a flicker of movement in one of the small groves. Jumping up onto the window sill, he had a clear view of Liath, facing away from the hall, looking up into the shadowed branches of a weeping willow.

  It took Morgan a moment to realize that the shadows there were much darker than in the rest of the garden, black, and moving, drawing together as he watched, then solidifying into a tall man-shape that slowly and jerkily sank down to the grass.

  As the seer took a step back from the creature, Morgan leapt away from the window and raced down the stairs leading to the rear exit. Halfway to the grove was a white marble statue of the Goddess, and hunched at the bottom of it was Liath.

  “What happened, my love?” he asked, bending over her.

  She ignored him, staring straight forward, cradling her right hand in her lap.

  “Liath! Tell me what happened!” he ordered, gently pulling her upright.

  A shudder ran through her, eyes wide and staring at a point just beyond his left shoulder. Her face was bone white.

  “It...he touched me,” she breathed, then gazed down at her hand. Even in the gathering dusk, Morgan could see the livid imprint of four long fingers on the back of her hand, reaching from knuckles to past her wrist.

  “What the...” he growled, as anger built up in him. “ Come on, let's find Druin.” He put his arm round her shoulder and began to walk back towards the hall. Before they'd gone more than three steps, Druin and Balin came running up.

  “What happened?” Balin asked.

  “You met with that one, didn't you?” Druin stated, taking hold of his daughter's arms. She nodded. “Goddess!” he muttered, “I warned you against that, Liath!”

  “It's alright, he's gone now,” she said quietly.

  “He!” Morgan spat, “I saw that creature – and it was not a man!”

  “We can discuss this later,” Druin said, glancing briefly at the young lord. “I want to take a look at your hand, Liath. Can you walk back to my workrooms?”

  She nodded, a little of the shock wearing off. With the three men in a protective formation around her, they went back to the hall and Druin’s treatment room. While the healer inspected the four long welts on her hand and wrist, Balin and Morgan sat at either side of the young seer watching in silence. Finally, Druin wrapped a bandage neatly round her hand then stepped back with a disapproving look on his face.

  “I told you not to contact that creature, didn't I?” he said. “Now why did you disobey me?”

  “I wanted to see how strong he was,” she admitted, staring down at her bandaged hand rather than at any of the three men.

  “And?”

  “He's more powerful than I imagined, although it put a great strain on him to pass from his plane to ours.”

  “Why do you persist in calling it 'him'?” Morgan interrupted.

  “That's what he is. A male,” she stated reasonably.

  “Morgan, a word with you, please,” Druin said, then left the room with the young lord reluctantly following. Waiting until Morgan had closed the door, the healer sighed and pushed his hands deep into the side pockets of his long blue waistcoat. “We'll have to keep a close watch on Liath,” he stated, taking one hand out of his pocket and pointing at Morgan. “And it has to be done by those of us who are as strong, or stronger, than her.”

  “Stronger?” he repeated, thinking he had never seen Druin look so worried before.

  “Yes,” the healer replied, crossing over to the window and closing the shutters. “I've told you a little of what the seers are capable of. And, of course, you know her so well now through her part in passing on your land-right. I believe, that with a marginal effort, she could dictate people's thoughts and actions. With a lot more effort, I believe you could, too, but that’s by the by.”

  “You mean, make them do and think things she wants? And me, I could, too?” ”

  “Yes. Although you would need much more practice,” Druin agreed, as he left the window and went back to stand in front of Morgan. “And it’s not just the tricks a few of the seers play on others. That's merely a little 'mental suggestion’; their tutors usually receive most of that. What I mean is being able to force someone to act against their own will. My daughter has yet to realize her full potential. Up until now, she's used just as much of her power as was required. Who knows what she can draw from you and your land?” He paused, running fingers through his thick iron-grey hair. “Balin and I can watch over her for some of the time – but we need help. Her feelings for you are very complex and confused, but she would never, could never, harm you in any way. You will be the third watcher. Ky, the fourth.”

  “Ky!” Morgan stared at Druin. “Surely you know how she feels about him. If Liath's as powerful as you seem to believe, then isn't she going to turn that against him?”

  Druin shook his head. “No, Ky has a very strong will and personality; it would take too much involvement with him for her to do that.”

  Morgan frowned thoughtfully and rubbed lightly at the scar on the palm of his hand, What Druin had said of Liath wasn’t too surprising. But about himself? That needed much more thought. “Alright,” he said finally. “You have your watchers. I take it we will be there to prevent a repeat of this evening's events?”

  “Ky and you will. Balin and I shall be with her recording what she sees and feels looking into the exiled world. Incidentally, it's almost in phase with Anraun – you'll soon be getting reports of dead fish on the beaches...”

  “Wait a minute, I've a few questions about that, Druin. What are the magi doing about it? Are they able to keep this world at bay with their sorcery – and is it a physical thing? If I were standing on the shore, would I see a black line, or a wall, coming towards me?”

  Druin stuffed both hands back into his pockets and began pacing the small ante-room. “The answer to your first question is no. The magi can slow its approach, which they have been doing since we realized what it was. But so far, that's all. Your second question is not so easy to answer,” he stopped and stared at the door to his workroom, then turned abruptly towards Morgan. “At first, it would depend on the mind, attitude and emotions of the person viewing the prison world. Most would see nothing at all out of the ordinary. A few would see a light mist or haze. Others, like some seers, magi and perhaps bards, could possibly view it as evening or dusk. As it nears, it will become more visible, eventually as a new planet in the sky. But its effects are twofold, the physical and... ethereal, I suppose. In that respect, you will become aware of it as soon as it touches your land. I really don’t know, Morgan. None of us do, it was just so long ago that the prison world was...created – we don’t even know how. ”

  “All right, I understand that. So, what about Liath, how would it look to her?”

  “Since she is increasingly able to penetrate the 'wall' separating it from us – I imagine the whole thing will eventually be as clear to her as all this is now.”

  Morgan sat down on a chair b
y the table, ran his fingers lightly along the worn, polished top, and searched for and found the place where the wood-grain formed the face of a cat. Twenty years ago, he'd discovered that face and listened in awe as Druin wove a magical story around it – of how it came to be there. It was a little fainter now, but reassuring to know that some things didn't change as drastically as his life and land seemed to be doing at the moment. His fingers reached out and touched the cat, feeling soft fur instead of wood. Morgan shot a glance at Druin. The Healer smiled faintly and shrugged.

  Turning to rest his elbow on the table edge, he asked, “Is there anyone else who can see this dark world as she does?”

  “According to Annushi – no. None of the seers can see any future past or through the darkness, and have no clue as to what happens after it arrives. But, since this thing doesn't seem to obey many of the laws we regard as fixed, then she could be wrong. Now that we don't have a full blooded Nightlord on Anraun, the only other who could see it as well as Liath would be Akashiians.”

  “Do you know of any?” Morgan asked hopefully, while wondering if he should invite Rowan or Tarik to Delgannan for a few weeks, perhaps go and see Jarath himself. He had such a strong feeling that the Nightlords were somehow involved in all this, and Saybel wasn’t called the Darkworld for nothing.

  “There is a part Akashii boy, a pupil of Mesar, Annushi's brother, who is travelling here with Tia'mar's party. They should arrive in three days time. Apart from that, no.”

  Morgan had the distinct feeling Druin was not telling the complete truth, but he pushed that thought to the back of his mind, intending to pursue it, and the matter of the Nightlords, later. “Can we break through into it? Attack the creatures that inhabit it?” He stood up and strode over to the Healer. “Give me something tangible, Druin! I can't fight shadows – my warriors have to see where to put their swords and spears!” No firearms or guns of any sort were allowed on Anraun, or any other manufactured weapon that made killing too easy.

  “I know, my boy, I know,” Druin said calmly, resting his hand on the younger man's shoulder. “It would seem logical that if they could do it to us, as Liath says, then we should be able to attack them. Although the best course of action may be to let them do the hard work of breaking through first, and kill them as they come. She said it was a great strain for that creature to actually appear in the garden and physically touch her. On the other hand, the nearer the darkness comes, the easier it will be for them to pass through.”