Death of a Darklord

by Laurell K. Hamilton

  “I cannot.”

  “Tereza, help me.”

  Tereza did not ask questions. She just knelt, flinging her gloves to the snow, helping to pry Elaine’s fingers apart. One finger at a time, they opened her hand.

  Gersalius turned her hand palm down, spilling the bone to the snow. Blood welled in a small cut where the bone had bitten into her skin.

  Tears trailed down Elaine’s face. She wasn’t sure why she was crying. “What happened?”

  “Your magic feeds on light, heat. Other magic feeds on other things,” Gersalius said.

  “What other things?”

  The wizard held her hand up to the dim starlight. He smeared his thumb through the darkness on her palm. “Blood, Elaine. It feeds on blood.”

  JONatHaN sat at HIS DeSK, aRms CROsseD OVeR HIS chest. He could feel his face set in a scowl, but didn’t care. If anything was worth scowling about, it was this.

  Tereza stood against the far wall. Her arms were also crossed, tucked tight against her stomach, angry. Her long, dark hair gleamed like fur in the lamplight. The rich colors of her clothing glowed with reflected radiance. The strong planes of her face were set in high relief by the light and shadows. The sight of her made his body ache, but what she asked was impossible.

  “No, Tereza, I cannot condone it.” His voice sounded firm and reasonable. He was right, and she would see that.

  “You did not see Elaine in the shed tonight, Jonathan. Now that she knows she is a mage, her magic is coming out stronger, faster. If Gersalius had not been there, she might have been sucked to death’s door again.”

  “From what you tell me, if the wizard had not urged it, she would not have tried this … magic.”

  “No, but the next vision would have endangered her. At least now she knows how to control the magic, a little.” She pushed away from the wall and began to pace the small room. Her energy seemed to fill the room, making it shrink and pale compared to her. She was so very alive, all nerve endings and emotion, all physical. Jonathan was aware that she balanced him, his careful calculation to her impetuousness, his thinking to her heart, his age to her youth. Even as he argued, part of him wanted to say yes just because it was her. But no, not this time. He would, by the gods, stand his ground.

  “Before tonight, I would have agreed with you.” She stopped in front of him, hands on hips. “Gersalius must accompany us to Cortton.”

  He shook his head. “No.” One simple word; why couldn’t she understand it?

  Tereza paced away from him, stalking the room as though it were a cage. “Then Elaine must remain behind, with the wizard.”

  “No.”

  She whirled. “Why not?”

  “I do not trust the wizard here at our home with us away. He could bewitch the entire household, including Elaine, before we return.”

  “Do you really believe that?” She was standing in front of him again, dark eyes gentle and searching. The anger was seeping out of her. Tereza could never stay angry long, at least not at him. Frankly, this new reasonableness was more dangerous. As long as she ranted and raved, he could simply fight. But how to argue with reason?

  He looked away from those searching eyes. It was a bad sign that he could not meet her gaze. He was losing, and not sure why. “Surely you see that we cannot take a wizard along on our work. I am the mage-finder. I cannot cart a mage along to aid me.”

  “He won’t be there to aid you, Jonathan. He will be there to see that Elaine does not inadvertently kill herself.”

  “It can’t be that serious. She has gone on all these years.”

  Tereza shook her head, dark hair sliding along her shoulders. “I told you what happened tonight. She was like a stranger, Jonathan.” Her face when she turned to him showed something he had not expected … fear.

  He reached out for her without thinking, touching her arm. “Are you truly afraid of our little Elaine?”

  She cupped her hand over his, pressing gently. “She would never harm us on purpose—I know that. Before tonight I was only worried for her safety, but now.…” She knelt at his feet, hands encircling his hand. She gazed up at him. “She is going to be a powerful mage, Jonathan. We cannot change that.”

  He opened his mouth to argue, but her fingertips touched his lips and the protest died, unspoken.

  “We cannot change it, Jonathan. After what I saw tonight, I know that for a certainty. All we can do is train her to be a power for good and see she does no harm to herself or anyone else by accident.”

  He pulled her hand away from his mouth. “There is no such thing as good magic. It is all evil.”

  “Then Elaine is evil,” she said softly. “But you don’t believe that. We’ve raised the girl for eight years. You know her heart is kind and gentle. You know that.”

  Jonathan stood, pulling away from her hands, the smell of her skin. He would not be persuaded by beauty to override his common sense. He walked to the window, staring down into the cold courtyard.

  There was a gleam of firelight in the wizard’s cottage. He smashed his fist into the wall beside the glass. “Magic corrupts all it touches. I have seen proof of that, again and again.”

  He felt her approach behind him. He did not need eyes to sense her movements. He could sense her like some great irresistible force. Love and passion can be as strong as any star.

  Her strong hands touched his shoulders, her body pressing against his back. “We cannot change what has happened to Elaine. All we can do is protect her as best we can, as any parents would.”

  He leaned his forehead against the icy glass. A wizard was sleeping just below, behind stout walls that Jonathan had built. A mage inside his defenses. It was outrageous.

  “Leave Elaine here in Gersalius’s care, or bring them both with us. Those are our choices, my love.” Her voice was soft and warm against his neck.

  He straightened. Her arms encircled his waist, and he pressed his hands over hers. “They will come with us.” Her arms tightened against him, snuggling closer. Why was that small movement worth losing a dozen fights?

  “Perhaps we might have the wizard look at Blaine.”

  Tereza was very still against him. “What do you mean?”

  “His ability to feel animals, plants; he said the tree was dead, even when it attacked them, he knew it was dead. You tell me Elaine’s magic said the same.”

  “You think Blaine might be a mage, as well?” Her voice was very soft, very careful.

  “I don’t know.”

  “But you fear it?”

  “I fear we have harbored serpents in our midst without knowing it.”

  “You can’t believe the twins are evil, Jonathan.” Her arms tightened around him. “You can’t.”

  “I don’t know what I believe anymore, Tereza. If you had told me two days ago that I would allow a wizard within my home …” He let the thought trail off.

  She softly kissed the back of his neck. “You were very brave to allow Gersalius inside.”

  “I cannot let Elaine die because of my prejudices. That would be evil all its own.”

  Tereza turned him away from the window to face her and the warm, familiar room. “You are a good man, Jonathan Ambrose.”

  “Am I? If Elaine is not evil, then what of the other mages I have destroyed over the years? Were some of them good? Has my own conceit murdered the innocent?”

  She gripped his arms tightly. “No, it is not just magic that earns them death. It is evil magic. In all the years I have been with you, I have never seen you persecute someone that had not committed some terrible evil.”

  “I wish I could be certain of that.”

  “In Cortton, someone has conjured up a plague that has killed half the village. The dead walk the street, preying on the living. That is evil, Jonathan, and only one man can stop it. The mage-finder. You will hunt down this rogue magic-user and see that he is stopped.” She stood just an inch or two taller than he, her face earnest, eyes searching his.

  “Will Gersa
lius come with us to persecute one of his own?”

  “If Gersalius will not aid us against a necromancer, he is the wrong wizard to be tutoring Elaine.” She seemed to think of something that made her smile. “If the wizard agrees to come, surely that is proof that even a mage does not approve of murder and raising the dead.”

  He knew she meant it to be comforting. If Gersalius agreed that it was evil, he was probably not evil, and if a mage approved of the mage-finder, Jonathan was not wrong to hunt them. But what if Gersalius only went along to spy for the other wizard? What if he used his power over Elaine to corrupt them all? And what was he, Jonathan, thinking to give the mage power over Blaine, too? But if Blaine had magic, wasn’t he in danger of its emerging at odd moments? Wasn’t Blaine in as much danger as Elaine?

  Jonathan shook his head. Tereza hugged him, pressing her strong arms tightly across his back, trying to comfort. He clung to her, taking the warmth offered, but he was not comforted. Too many doubts had been raised. Too many things he had been certain of were now as fragile as thin ice.

  He was the mage-finder, but now, for the first time, he wondered if he was also a murderer. Tonight, and for many nights to come, he would be reliving past events. He would be searching for evil in the people he had helped destroy. He would go over every job, to see if the magician had been truly evil, or just misguided, to see if there had been a way short of killing them, or causing others to slay them.

  Just a few short weeks ago, if Tereza had told him of someone else doing what Elaine had done in the shed, someone showing that much uncontrollable magic, he would have had her imprisoned, tried to see if she were a danger to others. And he would never have allowed another mage near her, to aid her, to teach her.

  Jonathan clung to his wife, breathing in the scent of her skin, the warmth of her body. He clung to her like a drowning man. Guilt began to eat at his mind, feeding the doubts. Guilt and doubt; they were two things the mage-finder had never dreamt of, until now.

  tHe SNOW gReW DeePeR tHe CLOSeR to CORttON they rode. The horses slogged through drifts that dragged against their bellies. The gentle mare Elaine usually rode was safe at home in its stall, too old, too fat, too slow. In its place, a slender brown horse capered through the deep snow, or as close to capered as it could. Elaine was glad of the snow. It would make a fall a little softer.

  She hadn’t fallen yet, but she clung to the saddle horn with both hands, reins laced through her gloved hands. There was a look in the young horse’s eye that was almost laughter, and Elaine was sure she was the butt of the equine joke.

  Blaine drew up beside her, one hand on his reins, the other free to gesture. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

  His gesture pointed at everything. Ice clung to every tree limb. Every bush was an ice sculpture with bones of black wood. Bright sunlight dazzled the eye, sparkling and dancing from every twig. Elaine squinted against the brightness. There was nothing but light and brightness and a harsh beauty as far as she could see.

  She stared into her brother’s smiling face. “It is pretty.”

  The smile faded. “What’s wrong?”

  Her horse nipped at Blaine’s knee. He avoided the snapping teeth without seeming to think about it. She sighed, breath fogging, joining the ice crystals already clinging to the fur of her hood. “Nothing.”

  He cocked his head to one side, hood sliding backward. His yellow hair was almost as bright as the sun-kissed ice. “Elaine, something’s wrong. What is it?”

  “This horse.”

  He prodded its hip with his foot. The horse gave a little jump. Elaine made a very unladylike squeak. “Blaine Clairn! What the blazes do you think you’re doing?”

  He looked instantly contrite, worried, sorry. “You’re really afraid of the horse, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  Blaine, who had never been afraid of an animal in his entire life, touched her shoulder with his mittened hand. “The horse doesn’t mean any harm. It’s just young and full of vinegar.”

  “If it were full of vinegar, it’d be a pickle,” she snapped.

  He let his hand drop back under his cloak. “I’m sorry I scared your horse, Elaine. I wouldn’t have done it if I’d known it’d bother you like this.”

  She shook her head, the fur of her hood sliding against her face. An ice crystal scratched her cheek, a sharp bite. She touched the spot with her fingertips. A spot of blood showed on her gloves. She was suddenly unaccountably angry, as if it were Blaine’s fault, though she knew it wasn’t. It was a small cut, so why was she furious? Something was wrong.

  “Get Gersalius.”

  “Why?”

  “Just do it!” She turned away from the hurt in his eyes. His every emotion was always there in his eyes. She had no time for it.

  Blaine rode forward in a cloud of snow. His cantering horse sent ice crystals sparkling in the air. The sunlight lit the gushing snow like diamond dust. A dim rainbow danced in the spilling snow. The sparkling light hurt her eyes.

  She turned away from it, to find a small bush that glowed with silver fire. The light ate into her head. All she could see was silver light. It burrowed into her brain like a stabbing sword. She wanted to turn away, to close her eyes, but couldn’t seem to do it.

  “Elaine, can you hear me?” It was Gersalius’s voice, warm and pleasant, the voice from the kitchen.

  “Yes.”

  “What are you seeing?”

  “Light.”

  “Describe the light to me.”

  “Silver, white.”

  “Is it just reflected light from the ice?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Can you see anything else besides the light?”

  She shook her head, and the light swung and trembled like a metal mirror that been struck. Nausea burned at the back of her throat. She took deep breaths of the cold air, swallowing convulsively.

  “Could this be one of your visions trying to come through?”

  “It doesn’t feel the same,” she said.

  “You are beginning to control your magic, Elaine. Where before visions came of their own accord, without your control, perhaps now they will only come if you ask them to.”

  “How do I do that?” Visions had always been easy in a way, effortless. It was like falling once she’d decided to jump. Once she let herself go, she couldn’t do anything but experience it. She certainly couldn’t stop it or change her mind. Pressure was building behind her eyes. The light was expanding to fill the inside of her skull with cold, hot, white light.

  “The magic is asking permission, Elaine. Let it come.”

  “I don’t know how.”

  “Concentrate on the light. Feed the light to your magic; let them intermingle. It is what you have always been doing, but now you are doing it on purpose. You are simply aware of the process. Nothing else has changed.”

  She knew he was lying, but couldn’t think how. She concentrated on the light, the brightness. As soon as she did, she could see again. She was still looking at the ice-covered bush. Sunlight beat sparks from it until it ran with silver flame. Elaine concentrated on one twig. She memorized the way the ice molded to the dark wood, the faint blue highlights that chased the white light. She could almost feel it against her fingers, slick, cold, smooth. No, there was a little bump in the ice where a twig stuck out, a tiny imperfection. Elaine could not possibly have known that. She could not see it, and she was still sitting on her horse, not touching the twig.

  She could feel the wood at the center of the ice, feel its cold, and very faintly the waiting life, the warmth waiting for spring to come and give it life again. She grabbed that warmth to herself. It spread through her body like a rush of heat. The vision rode that warmth.…

  A man lay in the snow. He was like no man Elaine had ever seen. High, thin bones shaped his face. It could have been just a high-cheekboned face, handsome, but nothing more, but there was a delicacy to the face that was more than bone. The skin was silver, nearly the color of the
sun-warmed snow. His skin was truly silver, metallic in color, spread over the snow like silk. It wasn’t a man at all. She didn’t know what it was, but it was no man. Was it a monster? A beautiful monster?

  A woman knelt by him. Long brown hair fell around a thin face. There was something of the other’s alienness in the woman’s face, but her skin didn’t have that awful paleness. But her eyes gleamed like fire-shot brass, making mock of the ordinary hair and skin.

  She tipped a small glass vial to his lips, rubbing his throat to make him swallow. Why was Elaine watching this? The woman was caring for the wounded creature? Was that it? Were they meant to destroy it? Was it dangerous?

  The woman looked up at something Elaine could not see. Her strange eyes widened. She scrambled backward, floundering in the snow. She drew a knife from her belt, on her knees in the snow beside the fallen creature.

  Elaine wanted to see what was frightening her. For the first time, Elaine moved her sight through the vision, moved away from the girl to what she was looking at. Elaine thought it was a wolf at first. Then it rose upward, towering on two bent legs, clawed hands flexing. Breath snorted out of its gaping, jagged jaws in a cloud of white smoke.

  Blood decorated the snow like crimson lace. A man lay torn and twitching at the beast’s feet. Wolves the size of small ponies stood at the beast’s back, waiting their turn, waiting for their master to let them feed.

  “No,” Elaine said. The beast turned to look up into the sky as if it had heard her. Had it? “Leave them alone.”

  The beast searched for the source of the voice, seeing nothing, but it did not attack the woman.

  “Blaine, find them. Go to her. Help her.”

  “Where is she?” came his distant voice.

  Elaine felt her arm move, slowly pointing.

  She heard horses surging out through the snow. The jingle of harnesses, the snick of blades drawn. “Hurry,” she said.

  The beast stalked toward the woman, and the dire wolves surged forward. The creature whirled with a roar. The wolves cringed, tails tucked tight, belly-crawling on the snow. The great canines groveled; they should have been terrifying, but the man-beast made them seem small and ordinary. An ordinary horror, compared to it.