Valdemar Books

by Lackey, Mercedes

  Vanyel's knees would not hold him; as soon as Tylendel let go of his arm, his legs gave way, and he found himself half-kneeling on the ground, dizzy, weak and nauseated. Tylendel didn't notice; his attention was on the people dancing.

  "They're celebrating," Tylendel whispered, and the anger Vanyel was inadvertently sharing surged along the link between them. "Staven's dead, and they're celebrating!"

  That small, rational corner still left to Vanyel whispered that this was only a Harvestfest like any other; that the Leshara weren't particularly gloating over an enemy's death. But that logical voice was too faint to be heard over the thunder of Tylendel's outrage. A wave of dizziness clouded his sight with a red mist, and he could hear his heart pounding in his ears.

  When he could see again, Tylendel had stepped away from him, and was standing between him and the line of trees with his hands high over his head. From Tylendel's upraised hands came twin bolts of the same vermilion lightning that had lashed the pine grove a moon ago. Only this lightning was controlled and directed; and it cracked across the garden and destroyed the trees standing between him and the gathered Leshara-kin in less time than it took to blink.

  In the wake of the thunderbolt came startled screams; the music ended in a jangle of snapped strings and the squawk of horns. The dancers froze, and clutched at each other in clumps of two to five. Tylendel's mage-light was blazing like a tiny, scarlet sun above his head; his face was hate-filled and twisted with frenzy. Tears streaked his face; his voice cracked as he screamed at them.

  "He's dead, you bastards! He's dead, and you're laughing, you're singing! Damn you all, I'll teach you to sing a different song! You want magic? Well, here's magic for you - ''

  Vanyel couldn't move; he seemed tethered to the still-glowing Gate behind him. He could only watch, numbly, as Tylendel raised his hands again - and this time it was not lightning that crackled from his upraised hands. A glowing sphere appeared with a sound of thunder, suspended high above him. About the size of a melon, it hung in the air, rotating slowly, a smoky, sickly yellow. It grew as it turned, and drifted silently away from Tylendel and toward the huddled Leshara-folk, descending as it neared them, until it came to earth in the center of the blasted, blackened place where the trees had been a moment before.

  There it rested; still turning, still growing, until it had swelled to twice the height of a man.

  Then, between one heartbeat and the next, it burst.

  Another wave of disorientation washed over him; Vanyel blinked eyes that didn't seem to be focusing properly. Where the globe had rested there seemed to be a twisting, twining mass of shadow-shapes, shapes as fluid as ink, as sinuous as snakes, shapes that were there and not there at one and the same time.

  Then they slid apart, those shapes, separating into five writhing mist-forms. They solidified -

  If some mad god had mated a viper and a coursing-hound, and grown the resulting offspring to the size of a calf, the result might have looked something like the five creatures snarling and flowing lithely around one another in the gleaming of Tylendel's mage-light. In color they were a smoky black, with skin that gave an impression of smooth scales rather than hair. They had long, long necks, too long by far, and arrowhead-shaped heads that were an uncanny mingling of snake and greyhound, with yellow, pupilless eyes that glowed in the same way and with the same shifting color that the globe that had birthed them had glowed. The teeth in those narrow muzzles were needle-sharp, and as long as a man's thumb. They had bodies like greyhounds as well, but the legs and tails seemed unhealthily stretched and unnaturally boneless.

  They regarded Tylendel with unwavering, saffron eyes; they seemed to be waiting for something.

  He quavered out a single word, his voice breaking on the final, high-pitched syllable - and they turned as one entity to face the cowering folk of Leshara, mouths gaping in unholy parodies of a dog's foolish grin.

  But before they had flowed a single step toward their victims, a shrill scream of equine defiance rang out from behind Vanyel.

  And Gala thundered through the Gate at his back, pounding past him, then past Tylendel, ignoring the trainee completely.

  She screamed again, more anger and courage in her cry than Vanyel had ever thought possible to hear in a horse's voice, and skidded to a halt halfway between Tylendel and the things he had called up. She was glowing, just like she had during 'Lenders fit; a pure, blue-white radiance that attracted the eye in the same way that the yellow glow of the beasts' eyes repelled. She continued to ignore Tylendel's presence entirely, turning her back to him; rearing up to her full height and pawing the air with her forehooves, trumpeting a challenge to the five creatures before her.

  They reversed their positions in an instant as her hooves touched the ground again, facing her with silent snarls of anger. She pawed the earth, and bared her teeth at them, daring them to try to fight her.

  "Gala!" Tylendel cried in anguish, his voice breaking yet again. "Gaia! Don't - "

  She turned her head just enough to look him fully in the eyes - and Vanyel heard her mental reply as it rang through Tylendel's mind and heart and splintered his soul.

  :I do not know you: she said coldly, remotely. :You are not my Chosen. :

  And with those words, the bond that had been between them vanished. Vanyel could feel the emptiness where ithad been - for he was still sharing everything Tylendel felt.

  Tylendel's rage shattered on the cold of those words.

  And when the bond was broken, what took its place was utter desolation.

  Vanyel moaned in anguish, sharing Tylendel's agony, and the torment and bereavement as he called after Gaia with his mind and received not even the echo of a reply. Where there had been warmth and love and support there was now - nothing; not even a ghost of what had been.

  The link between them surged with loss, and Vanyel's vision darkened.

  He heard Tylendel cry out Gala's name in utter despair, and willed his eyes to clear.

  And to his horror he watched her fling herself at the five fiends, heedless of her own safety.

  They swarmed over and about her, their darkness extinguishing her light. He heard her shriek, but this time in pain, and saw the red splash of blood bloom vividly on her white coat.

  He tried to stagger to his feet, but had no strength; his ears roared, and he blacked out.

  He barely felt himself falling again, and only Tylendel's scream of anguish and loss penetrated enough to make him fight his way back to consciousness.

  He found himself half-sprawled on the cold ground. He shoved himself partially erect despite his spinning head, and looked for Gala -

  But there was no Companion, no fight. Only a mutilated corpse, sprawling torn and ravaged, throat slashed to ribbons, the light gone from the sapphire eyes. Tylendel was on his knees beside her, stroking the ruined head, weeping hoarsely.

  Beside her lifeless body lay one of the five monstrosities, head a shapeless pulp. The others flowed around the Companion's body, as if waiting for the corpse to rise again so that they could attack it. Two of the others limped on three legs - but two were still unharmed, and given what they had done to Gala in a few heartbeats, two would be more than enough to slaughter every man, woman, and child of the Leshara.

  Finally they left off their mindless, sharklike circling, and turned to face the terrified celebrants. They took no more notice of Tylendel than of the dead Companion.

  A man bolted from the crowd. With a start, Vanyel recognized him for Lord Evan. Whether he meant to attack the beasts, or simply to flee, Vanyel couldn't tell. It really didn't matter much; one of the beasts that was still unhurt flashed across the intervening space and caught him. He did not even have time to cry out as it disem-bowled him.

  A woman screamed - and that seemed to signal the beasts to move again. They began to ooze in a body toward their victims -

  And a bolt of brilliantly white lightning cracked from behind Vanyel to scorch the earth before the leader.

&nb
sp; There was a pounding of hooves from the Gate. Vanyel was momentarily blinded by the light and by another surge of weakness that sent him sagging back to the ground.

  When his eyes cleared again, there were three whiteclad Heralds and their three Companions closing on the fiends, lightning crackling from their upraised hands. They were using the lightnings to herd the beasts into a tight little knot and barring their path to their prey.

  He barely had time to recognize two of the three as Savil and Jaysen before battle was joined.

  Once again he started to black out, feeling as if something was trying to pull his soul out of his body. He fought against unconsciousness, though he felt as if he had nothing left to fight with; both the rage and the despair were gone now, leaving only an empty place, a void that ached unbearably.

  He felt a tiny inflowing of strength; it wasn't much, but it was enough to give him the means to fight the blackness away from his eyes, to fight off the vertigo, and to finally get a precarious hold on the world again.

  The first thing he saw was Tylendel; still on his knees, but no longer weeping. He was vacant-eyed, white as bleached linen, and staring at his own blood-smeared hands. Where the five creatures had been there was now nothing; only the mangled body of Gala and the burned and churned-up earth.

  Taking her hand away from his shoulder was Savil - her face an unreadable mask.

  Savil pulled her attention away from Tylendel, who was slumped in a kind of trance of despair beside her, and back to what Vanyel was telling the other two Heralds.

  "… then she said, 'I don't know you, you aren't my Chosen,' " the boy whispered, eyes dull and mirroring his exhaustion, voice colorless. "And she turned her back on him, just turned away, and charged those things."

  "Buying time for us to get here," Jaysen murmured, his voice betraying the pain he would not show. "Oh, gods, the poor, brave thing - if she hadn't bought us those moments, we'd have come in on a bloodbath."

  "She repudiated him," said Lancir, the Queen's Own, as if he did not believe it. "She repudiated him, and then-"

  "Suicided," Savil supplied flatly, her own heart in turmoil; aching for Tylendel, for the loss of Gala, for all the things she should have seen and hadn't.. "Gods, she suicaided. She knew, she had to know that no single Companion could face a pack of wyrsa and survive."

  Tylendel sat where they had left him; unseeing, unspeaking - all of hell in his eyes. Mage-lights of their own creation bobbed overhead, pitilessly illuminating everything.

  Jaysen contemplated Savil's trainee for a long moment, but said nothing, only shook his head slightly. Then he spared a glance for Vanyel, and frowned; Savil heard his thought. :The boy is still tied to the Gate, sister. He grows weaker by the moment. If you want him undamaged - :

  Unspoken, but not unfelt, was the vague thought that perhaps it would be no bad thing if Vanyel were to be "forgotten" until it was too late to save him from the aftereffects of the Gate-magic. That undercurrent of thought told Savil that Jaysen placed all of the blame for this squarely on Vanyel's shoulders.

  :It wasn't his fault, Jaysen: she answered, heartsick, and near to weeping, but unable to be anything other than honest. :He didn't do anything worse than go along with what 'Lendel wanted without telling me. What happened was as much due to my negligence as anything he did.:

  Jaysen gave a curt nod, but a skeptical one. :In that case, we need to get that Gate closed down as soon as possible, or the boy will sicken - or worse.:

  No need to ask what that "worse" was; Vanyel was already looking drawn, almost transparent, as the Gate pulled more and more of his life-force from him. How Tylendel, half-trained, and Vanyel, unGifted, had managed that, Savil had no notion - but they dared not break the link until they didn't need the Gate anymore.

  :Fine, but what are we going to do about all that mess?: Savil asked, nodding her head at the milling crowd, the mangled corpse of the single victim the wyrsa had killed, and the pathetic body of the Companion. :Somebody had better take them in hand, or no telling what they'll get up to. Go in for a wholesale slaughtering-party on Tylendel's people, make up some kind of tale about Heralds being in on this - : Even a hair away from breaking down into tears, she was still thinking; she couldn't help it.

  :l'll stay here,: Lancir volunteered. :Elspeth can do without me for a moon or so. I'll take care of the Leshara and see to - : his thought faltered. : - Gala.:

  :And you'll get home how?: Jaysen asked, concerned. : We're going to shut the Gate from the other side as soon as we're through, and you aren't up to Gating by yourself these days.:

  :Like ordinary mortals,: he replied, with a deathly seriousness. :On our feet.:

  :What - what are we going to do about - : Savil's eyes flicked to Tylendel and back; the boy was still staring vacantly into space, his face pale and blank, his eyes so full of inward-turned torment that she could scarcely bear to look into them for fear she would break down and cry.

  .I don't know,: Lancir replied bleakly. .I just don't know. There's no precedent. Get the boy home; worry about it when you've got time to think about it. Ask your Companions; it was one of their number that died. That's all I can think of. But you'd better get on with it if you expect to leave the other boy with a mind.:

  "Jays, take Tylendel, will you?" Savil said aloud, reaching for Vanyel's arm and pulling him to his feet. "Lance-"

  "Gods with you, heart-sibs," said the Queen's Own, pity and compassion momentarily transforming his homely face into something close to saintly, like that of a beautiful carved statue. "You'll need their help. Taver?"

  His Companion sidled up to him and held rock-still for Jaysen to help him to mount; like the Queen, like Savil, Lancir was feeling his age these autumn days, and needed the boost into place that Jaysen gave him. But once in the saddle, he resumed the strength and dignity of a much younger Queen's Own - the man he had been twenty years ago. Taver tossed his head, and walked with calm and quiet steps toward the shocked, confused mob of Leshara at the other end of the garden.

  Jaysen tugged on Tylendel's arm; the boy rose, but with the automatic movements of someone spellbound, his attention still turned within himself. The Seneschal's Herald led the way to the Gate, followed closely by his Companion, and guiding the boy with a hand at his shoulder.

  He cast a look back at Savil. "I don't fancy the notion of the ride we have ahead of us - too many things to go wrong on the way. You know more about this spell than I do - do you think you can reset this Gate to bring us out at the Palace?"

  She wrenched her attention away from the unanswerable problem of what to do about the boys, and contemplated the structure of the Gate. The portal at this end was an ornamental gazebo in the center of the blasted garden. Through the arch of the entrance lay the dark of the ruinous cottage yard.

  "I don't see any problem," she replied, after study. "I can bring us out in the Grove Temple, if that's all right."

  "That should do," Jaysen said, eyeing the sky on the other side of the portal, which was flickering with lightnings. "Good gods - why did that blow in? There wasn't a storm due."

  "Don't look so surprised, Jays," she growled, needed to lash out at something and using his absentmindedness to make him the target. "I've told you a dozen times that Gating plays merry cob with the weather. That's why I don't like to use Gates. It's going to get worse when I reset it, and all hell will break out when I collapse it."

  He pursed his lips and frowned, but didn't reply, just waved at her with his free hand. She let go of Vanyel, who sagged back to his knees, too weakened to stay standing without her support. She raised both her hands high above her head, and made an intricately weaving little gesture. Filaments of dull red light floated from the Gate toward her, and were caught up on her fingers by that complex weaving. When she had them fast, she clenched her hands on them and sent her will coursing down them in a surge of pure, commanding power, the filaments turning from red to white as her will flowed back along them.

  When the wave of white
reached the Gate, the portal misted over, then flared incandescently. When the light died, the scene framed in the gazebo arch was that of Companion's Field, seen by the fitful flashes of lightning, as viewed from the porch of the Grove Temple.

  Savil reached down and caught the fabric of Vanyel's tunic, pulling him to his feet again. She dragged him with her as she followed closely on Jaysen's heels. He hurried across the Gate threshold, pushing Tylendel before him; she half-ran a step behind him, dragging Vanyel with her by main force.

  The Gate-crossing hit her with its all-too-familiar, sickening sensation of falling. Then - hard, smooth marble was beneath her feet, and they were home.

  Lighting struck a nearby tree, and thunder deafened her for a moment. She cleared out of the path of the Gate and Kellan and Felar darted across, ears laid back, as soon as she and Vanyel were out of the way.

  She let go of Vanyel, who stumbled the two steps to one of the pillars and clung to it. She turned to face the Gate even as another bolt struck nearby. The Gate was going unstable, wavering from red to white and back again, the instability in the energy fields mirrored in the increasing fury of the lightning storm overhead. She raised her hands and began the dismissal - and encountered unexpected resistance.

  She tried again, wincing at the crack of thunder directly above her. There was something wrong, something very wrong. The Gate was fighting her.

  "Jays - " she shouted over the growl of thunder and the whine of the wind. " - I need a hand, here."

  Jaysen let go of Tylendel to add his strength to hers - their united wills worked at the spell-knot, forcing it to unravel faster than it could knit itself back up again.

  With a surge of wild power that brought a half-dozen lightning strikes down on the Belltower of the Temple itself, the Gate collapsed -

  Then again the unexpected; the Gate-energy, instead of dissipating back into the air and ground, flared up, and surged back down the one conduit left to it. The force-line that had tied it into Vanyel. Savil Saw it - but not in time to stop it.