[Lyra 03] - Shadow Magic

by Patricia C. Wrede - (ebook by Undead)

  “That is not surprising,” Jordet replied. “The Shadow-born were bound in silence and safety at the dawn of memory, and I believe even your minstrel could not tell you much of them.”

  “If the Shee bound them once, can you not do so again?” Tamsin asked the Shee. He was not entirely pleased by Jordet’s last comment.

  “It may be possible, if we can reach them before they gain their full strength,” said Illeana. “But they were first bound over three thousand years ago, and it took the combined power of the Four Races and more; it took the power of the greatest treasures of Lyra—the Sword, the Shield, the Cup and the Staff.”

  “The Lost Gifts of Alkyra!” Har exclaimed.

  “I thought that they were made for the first King of Alkyra, as coronation gifts,” Alethia said. “How could they have been used so long ago?”

  “They were indeed coronation gifts, but they are far older than that,” Tamsin said with a far-away look in his eyes. “Each of the Four Races took one after the Wars of Binding, and only the Crown has greater power. They were given to Kirel at his coronation for the keeping of the peace of Alkyra, so that he would be a King for all four of the races and not only humans.”

  “You are well-versed, Minstrel,” Jordet said. “I had not known that such ancient tales were still kept outside the Kathkari.”

  “You forget, perhaps, that the Hall of Tears where the minstrels gather is at least as old as the cities of the Shee,” Tamsin said politely. “Still, I know little of the Wars of Binding save their name. I can tell you more Of the Four Gifts, though what I know is more recent history.”

  “Then speak,” said Illeana. “I have always wondered how you of Alkyra allowed things of such power to be lost so easily; tell me.”

  Har looked at her angrily, but Tamsin seemed unperturbed. “They were lost during the first invasion of the Lithmern,” he said. “The Royal Family was at Lacsmer, and with them were the Crown and the Gifts. The Lithmern fell on the city without warning and killed King Cardemane and all his family, save only the youth Caruth who was not in the city. Then the Lithmern took the Crown and the Four Gifts, and sent a party to take them back to Lithra, to Mog Ograth—tout they never arrived. Never again have they been seen; the party disappeared, and no one has ever found a trace of them or of the Gifts, though many have lost their lives in searching.”

  “Had we even one of those four, or the Crown of Alkyra, I would be more optimistic about our chances against the Shadow-born,” Illeana said.

  “Unfortunately, we have neither Kirel’s Crown nor his coronation Gifts,” Jordet said dryly. “What is our next step?”

  “We must send to Eveleth at once,” Illeana said with decision. “They must know what we face.”

  “What proof have we to offer?” Jordet demanded. “Eveleth must know, but will they believe such unlikely news?”

  There was a brief silence while the unanswered question hung in the air. Then Rarn snorted. “Your proof is there; you said it yourselves,” she said, waving at the still unconscious Lithmern. “Question him under truthtrance.”

  “Aye, if we learn nothing more than his purpose in attacking Alethia just now it will still be well worth the time,” Worrel agreed. “And I’ll wager he knows more of the plans for attacking Brenn than we, which must also be worth learning.”

  The others nodded. The wisdom of such a course was evident, and the danger was minimal now that the man had been freed of the Shadow-born’s binding.

  The Lithmern was beginning to stir; Worrel took a waterbag and dumped about half its remaining contents on the man’s head. He gasped and spluttered, then sat up shaking glittering droplets of water from his hair. His eyes widened as he took in the nature of the people standing about him, and he scrambled to his feet.

  “My undying thanks are yours,” he said unexpectedly, his voice hoarse, “for your timely rescue.” He tried to bow, but staggered and almost collapsed. Worrel guided him to a seat, and offered him the waterbag once more. The man drank in great gulps while the others watched in silence.

  “Now that you have refreshed yourself,” Illeana said sarcastically, “perhaps you will tell us who you are?”

  “I am Corrim vin Halla of Karlen Gale,” the man replied wearily. “I have been a prisoner of the Lithmern for four months or more, and after that the slave of that thing; I know not how long.”

  “Karlen Gale!” Alethia said, and the others exchanged surprised looks. Corrim vin Halla nodded once. His head did not rise again; it was as if it would be too much trouble to lift it.

  Maurin drew Jordet a little aside. “Can we trust him, do you think?”

  “When he is under truthtrance,” Jordet replied softly, but Corrim heard. His head lifted and his eyes grew bleak.

  “It were better indeed not to trust me too far,” he said. “What I know I will give you freely, saving that you give me a clean death before that returns for me.”

  “Who speaks of death?” Jordet demanded. “You need not fear such if you are what you say.”

  Corrim shook his head. “I am free of it now, and for that I thank you,” he said heavily. “But I have lived with its power. It will return for me, and when it does it will be better for you and I both if I am dead already.”

  “The Shadow-born cannot cross the Kathkari without a host,” Illeana said. “You need not fear them while you remain in Sheleran.”

  The Karlen Gale man shook his head doubtfully, but remained silent. “Of course, we cannot accept you completely without more knowledge,” Illeana went on, “and that is best done under truth-trance. If you are willing, we can begin.”

  The man’s face turned grey, and it was only with obvious effort that he kept control of himself. “By your leave, is there no way other than to be again ensorcelled?” he asked hoarsely.

  “ ’Tis no great thing to fear,” Illeana said, frowning. “You will not even know that your will is overborn, unless you try to lie. Come, now.”

  Corrim nodded jerkily, and walked stiff-legged to seat himself where Illeana indicated. Jordet stood behind him and murmured rapidly, making a few passes in the air. Corrim’s eyes glazed. Jordet finished and came around to study the man’s suddenly relaxed face for a moment, then nodded at Illeana. “Now, tell us your story,” she commanded.

  The tale that unwound for the fascinated listeners was not, at first, complex. Corrim had been captured by a Lithmern raiding party, and his first months had been spent as an ordinary prisoner-slave, forced to do menial labor during the day and chained at night. Then he was chosen for the Shadow-born.

  He remembered the binding ceremony only vaguely, as a chill and a sibilant voice and a black fog that sank into his brain and overwhelmed him. For a long time after that he was a prisoner in his own body, aware but unable to control the simplest of his actions. He was not completely possessed, though he knew that would come when the Shadow-born used up one of their present hosts. He, and the others like him, were puppets waiting to be occupied by Shadow-born at some later date, completely trustworthy because they had no will save that of their masters.

  There was little Corrim could do except cling to his sanity and hope that the Shadow-born or their wizard-masters would make a mistake that would allow him to escape, or simply die cleanly. It was a hard task, for when they wished, the Shadow-born could speak with his voice and see with his eyes in a kind of incomplete possession that was a horrible foreshadowing of what he knew was to come.

  Corrim was able to give a very coherent account of Alethia’s kidnapping. Jordet had been correct; the leader of the Lithmern party had not been one of the Shadow-born themselves, but one of the messenger-slaves who was very near to total possession. The Talisman of Noron’ri had been necessary to channel the creature’s power to its servant. Though the Shadow-born could take possession of the man’s body, they could not maintain it for more than a few minutes at such a distance until one of them took him over completely.

  Corrim had been included in the party as a su
pplementary contact, for use in the unlikely event that something happened to the leader, who was much more firmly controlled than the Karlen Gale man. About the Shadow-born themselves, Corrim knew little. The Lithmern sorcerer-king Ninri had conjured them to aid him in conquering Alkyra; they had been weakened by their long captivity, but they were growing stronger daily.

  When Corrim finished his tale, Har questioned him closely about the plans for the attack on Alkyra. The main body of the army, he learned, was still at Mog Ograth with the Lithmern wizards and the Shadow-born. It would, therefore, be at least three weeks before it could reach Brenn under the best of conditions, possibly longer. Har sat back to digest this information, and Jordet looked at Corrim gravely.

  “The Lithmern do not know what they have done. It will not be long before they serve the Shadow-born, whom they summoned to be their servants. If, indeed, they do not do so already; their interests seem identical. But why do the Shadow-born want to destroy Alkyra?”

  “They want to reestablish their rule over Lyra, as they ruled during the Times of Darkness,” Illeana said impatiently, before Corrim could reply. “They choose Alkyra as their starting place because the Lithmern hate it and it is easy to persuade them to move against it, that is all.”

  “I do not think so,” Worrel said. “Ts it coincidence that Alkyra is bordered by the lands of the Shee and of the Wyrds? I think the Shadow-born move first to remove the last of their old enemies, the last of the ones who bound them.”

  There was a moment’s pause as the others considered the idea. Jordet turned back to Corrim. “Could it be so?”

  Corrim frowned. “Perhaps. Yet it did not seem to me that they moved from vengeance, but out of fear.”

  “Then they are perhaps not yet so strong that we may not bind them once more,” Illeana said with more confidence than she had shown previously.

  “You are wrong,” said a quiet, sure voice. Heads turned toward Maurin in surprise, and Illeana lifted one eyebrow expressively. “Enlighten me,” she said.

  Maurin reddened slightly. “I do not mean that your people cannot bind the Shadow-born,” he explained. “Only that their reason for pressing to attack Brenn must be more than fear of the Shee and the Wyrds.”

  “Why?” asked Jordet.

  “Because of Alethia,” Maurin said. “Think on it! If the Shadow-born feared you, why would they go into the Wyrwood and risk betraying themselves too soon? Why send so strong a party to kidnap Alethia from Brenn before the attack, and why attempt to recover her and not the Talisman when both were lost? Why wouldn’t the Shadow-born simply wait until their strength was at its peak and they were no longer vulnerable before attacking, unless there was something they wanted or feared more than they fear premature discovery?”

  “Then you think that the Lithmern did not mistake Alethia for Isme when they kidnapped her from Styr Tel?” Worrel asked.

  “What else explains their actions?” Maurin retorted.

  “But why would Alethia be so valuable to them?”

  “I cannot guess,” Maurin replied. “But I can think of no other explanation that fits.”

  “Explanation?” Illeana said. “More like a fabrication! I do not find it convincing.”

  “Nonetheless, this is the third time the Lithmern and their creatures have tried to capture Alethia,” Maurin pointed out. “That thing went straight for her as soon as it broke free of your circle. If the Shadow-born wanted Isme, why do they keep trying to recover her daughter?”

  “And I still do not believe that it was entirely a coincidence that the janaver struck at Alethia,” said Worrel. “Tf it was not, that would make four times. I am much inclined to accept your theory.”

  “In any case, I do not think we can remain long in the mountains,” Jordet said. Illeana frowned, and he went on, “I know that you were told to keep us from Eveleth, but the situation has now changed. None of us can heal him,” he nodded at the gloomy figure of Corrim, “nor adequately protect him for more than a brief time. Though the mountains may give him some protection from the Shadow-born, I do not think that it will last once they reach their full strength.”

  Illeana still looked doubtful, but she nodded. “In any case, someone must take the news that the Shadow-born walk free once more, and that without delay. Very well, we shall all go. These winds blow too high for me.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The travelers were soon on their way once more. For the rest of the day, they wound among the mountains. At twilight they had not yet reached Eveleth, but Jordet and Illeana assured them it was no more than two hours’ ride. No one wanted to spend another night in the open, especially with their destination so close, and they kept on. The path gradually widened into a well-trodden road that sloped gently upward past the shadowed cliffs on either side. The two moons rose almost together, giving the white hair of the Shee a silvery sheen and lighting the road before them with a clear, cold light.

  A gentle breeze, barely a stirring of the night air, came blowing down the last rise to meet them. Below her, Alethia could dimly see the rolling woods, veiled in silver light like a woman of Rathane. Above towered the immovable mountains, dark and silent, up which the small black dots of the horses and ponies crept like ants. She felt strangely peaceful for the first time since leaving Brenn.

  Jordet stopped at the top of the slope and the others rode up beside him. “There,” he said softly, pointing. “There is Eveleth.”

  They were looking out over a plateau that seemed immense. Directly before and below them rose the white spires of a city, gleaming in full moonlight. From the windows, light shone in brilliant pin-points; not the warm yellow light of candles or lamps, but a pure white light like that of the stars. The city lay within a circle of smaller lights, evenly spaced on the wall around it like beads on a necklace chain.

  They looked in silence. Then, wordlessly, they applied themselves to the descent. When they stood before the gates of the city at last, Alethia was awed. Five times as high as her head they stood, yet still they seemed curiously fragile. The metal gleamed in the light of two lamps hanging from the wall on either side, and she could see carvings on the doorposts that even in the uncertain light were obviously the work of master craftsmen.

  Jordet rode directly into the pool of light before the gates. “Open! Ri peri sikat!”

  “Who demands entrance to the City of Lights?” said a cool voice from the top of the wall above them.

  “The Keeper of the South Ward demands entrance,” Jordet shouted back, with a smile.

  Silent and slow as in a dream, the gates swung inward. Inside stood a Shee dressed in uniform, silver and black in the moonlight. The haughty expression on his face was belied by the warmth in his voice. “Jordet!” The warmth quickly vanished as he saw the Ward-Keeper’s companions just outside the gate.

  “Prestemon, there is an explanation for this,” Jordet said quickly.

  “Explanations must wait; we must go to the palace at once!” Illeana said behind him. She rode forward until she could be plainly seen by the guard.

  “Have you run mad?” the Shee Captain demanded, looking at Jordet. “Bringing humans to our city!”

  “This is the Queen’s business,” Illeana snapped.

  Jordet nodded. “These are my cousins, Prestemon. This is Alethia of Brenn and her brother Har—the children of Isme. The ban against humankind need not apply to them.”

  “And the others? Can you claim Shee heritage for them as well, Jordet?” Prestemon spoke gently, but remained firm.

  Illeana was equally firm. “This is the Queen’s business, Captain. It is not for you to judge. Do you question the Veldatha?”

  Jordet interrupted her. “Prestemon—you must trust me.”

  Prestemon turned his gaze slowly from Jordet to Illeana, and back again. “Alright. I will escort you personally. But on your life, my friend, this had better have a good explanation.”

  Jordet grinned as he swung back into the saddle. “That’s fair enoug
h.”

  Prestemon shook his head and turned back to the gates. “Taterek! Close the gates and mind them well!”

  The Shee in the gatehouse nodded his acknowledgement. The Captain seized one of the horses tethered just inside the gate, and indicated for the party to follow. “Pull your hoods up at least,” he said, without turning back to them. “The less attention we attract, the better.”

  The buildings were clearly visible in the white light of the lanterns that hung at intervals along the streets, but none bore any resemblance to the solid stone houses of Brenn or, to the wooden ones of other Alkyran towns. These were made of the same smooth white stone blocks that paved the street, and they shone ghostly amid gardens and groves of trees. From time to time, the riders heard the music of fountains.

  The party turned a corner and moved slowly down a wide avenue that led directly to the palace. Ahead of them rose the silver spires of the castle, gleaming in the moonlight. The towers were visible from every part of the city, even over the tops of the tallest trees, reaching for the sky with tall, white fingers.

  As they drew nearer, the rolling grounds and trees around the palace became more clearly visible, and soon they reached the foot of the long sweep of stairs leading up to the main door. On either side of the carved door-panels stood a Shee uniformed in black and silver, and as Prestemon rode up they snapped to attention.

  The Captain mounted the stairs two at a time, giving orders to the guards almost as soon as he had dismounted, and disappeared through the carved doors.

  One of the guards whistled as Alethia dismounted; two youths appeared in answer to the summons, and they took the reins of the horses and ponies and led them out into the shadows.

  “If you will, please follow me,” the second guard said politely as he swung the doors open. Illeana stepped forward at once, and the rest of the travelers followed.

  Inside they were hurried down a long marble hall lined with pillars to a small chamber hung with silks and tapestries. Here the guard left them, but they did not have to wait long. Barely had they entered when they heard the sound of rapid footsteps approaching. The door opposite was thrown open, revealing Prestemon and another Shee wearing a black cloak lined in dark purple silk and carrying a silver staff. Jordet and Worrel immediately bowed; Rarn and Illeana curtsied. After a moment’s hesitation, Alethia and the three men copied the others.