“You know where he is?” Veria asked.
“No,” Daloes said. “I do not.”
“Then you know someone who knows where he is,” she pressed.
And he went silent again.
“What is the harm in asking the person who might know where he is, then?” she interrogated, jumping to her feet in agitation.
“Because he is just as dangerous as Ohren!” Daloes answered, his voice becoming louder and more insistent. “Maybe even more. Certainly more predictable than Ohren, but definitely more powerful.”
Veria stared at him as the pieces came together slowly in her head. And when they came together—Cadit Ohren was a Fire Mager, the person who knew his location was more powerful, a more powerful Fire Mager...his Master, perhaps...the most powerful Fire Mager—she felt a rush of excitement but also uneasiness.
“It's Strelzar,” she said slowly and plainly. “Isn't it?”
Daloes was silent, which was as good as a confirmation.
“And you didn't tell me because you don't want me going to find him,” she stated. “Because you know I will...”
“It would be reckless of you Veria, to put yourself in that much danger,” Daloes warned, his voice very paternal. “He's unstable. He's extremely powerful, and he's insane. It's not worth it.”
“My father's name? The truth?” Veria snapped, his words enraging her. “That's not worth it?!”
“Not worth you seeking out Strelzar Plazic, no,” Daloes said. “Not with you likely coming to harm.”
“That goes against everything you have ever taught me!” Veria yelled. “Truth is the most important thing to an Earth Mager!”
“Your safety is the most important thing,” Daloes said.
“I do not hold to that,” Veria stated firmly. “At all. There is truth out there worth finding and I will do what is necessary, whether it is dangerous or not.”
Daloes' head dropped in defeat.
“But you knew I would say that,” Veria sighed.
“I knew you might,” he muttered.
“And were there ever any other potential truths in time?” she asked, realizing her tone was a bit on the mocking side. “Were there ever any potential futures where I chose my own safety over seeking the truth?”
Daloes shook his head. “But it is not set in stone, Veria,” Daloes said.
“I have made my decision,” she said. “So yes, I think it is.”
She turned to leave, and just as she made it to the door, he called after her: “If you do this, if you find him and go, I...I will no longer be your Master.”
Veria swallowed hard. It hurt to think about. She had always envisioned a long and prosperous relationship with Daloes, as his star apprentice. But the truth was, she had been just fine training herself on her own the last year. And he had not trusted her or had enough faith in her to be honest about their investigation. The only thoughts that came to her mind would turn into statements that would hurt him if spoken, so she refrained.
“Thank you for everything you've done for me, Daloes,” Veria said, and she turned the knob and exited the cottage without looking back.
When she arrived home, a man with a parcel stood on the front step. She greeted him and took the parcel, which was for her, before going inside, where she tore into the brown paper.
It was the black skirt, coming back from the seamstress, where apparently Tanisca had sent it to be repaired. It was hard to spot, because the stitching was so perfectly done, but she found the rip, and traced it with a trembling finger. Her breath became shallow and her heart pounded at the reminder of the event. All of it. Rames, and the planter, and Andon, the memory-clearing...him never wanting to see her again...
Her anxiety at the memories quickly turned to rage. She was angry. No, she was furious, with Rames and Andon and Daloes, she thought. She turned on her heels and stormed into the library, the reminder skirt in hand. Tanisca was not in the library, nor was the baby. It was nice enough outside that they were probably reading and napping in the gardens, which was for the best, Veria thought.
They wouldn't see her leave.
She strode to Tanisca's desk and went to open the drawer that held all of Tanisca's private correspondence. It was locked, of course, but with her powers she could influence the earth energy of the brass lock and click it unlocked without the use of a key. Quickly, she pulled it open and rifled through the papers. As her fingers touched each piece, she tried to listen to the truths on their pages, the imprints of the people who wrote them. As her fingers brushed against a parchment at the back of the drawer, they felt as if they had been singed, burned by an invisible flame that coated the entire letter. She pulled it out of the drawer quickly, her heart pounding, and read it.
Miss Pyer,
It was a pleasure to meet you last month. I am happy to inform you that I currently have an opening for an apprentice. Come to Plazic Peak, the northern most peak in Londess, and we will begin your training.
There was a giant flowing signature that didn't look like an actual name, more like very artistic scribbling. But she didn't need to be able to read it to know that the letter was from Strelzar. And now she knew the location of Plazic Peak.
The peak region ran along the Eastern border of Londess, and Plazic Peak, apparently, was the northernmost peak within the boundaries of the kingdom. It would take about a day and a half to get there.
After she replaced the letter, and closed the drawer and locked it, she walked to the fireplace, which contained a small, fading fire, but still enough of one to accomplish what she wanted, and tossed the black skirt, the awful reminder, into its consuming flames.
She went to her room and quickly packed a satchel with her warmest dress and coat, and boots—she would need to change into warmer clothes once she had traveled a day northeast of here, where it was notable chillier, especially in the actual peak region. On her way out the door, she stopped in the kitchen. and filled a cloth sack with ox jerky, honey biscuits and some dried braiberries the cook had just finished the day before, until she had enough to tide her over for the next day and a half.
If she was remembering her geography correctly, Dranspor would be a long the route, and she could stop and eat at a tavern there, if necessary. She left the house through the kitchen door and told Tomley she needed to go back into town, which she felt a bit badly about, seeing as he had just gotten the horses settled from their previous trip, not long ago.
She couldn't stand to say goodbye to anyone, and her mother would just try to talk her out of it, she knew. When they pulled up to the carriage house in Bermedge where Veria would hire transport, she asked Tomley to tell her mother that she was safe, and would be back soon.
She hoped that were true.
-VII-
Clutching her thick coat around her as much out of nervousness as warmth, Veria entered the tunnel that supposedly led to Strelzar Plazic's volcanic peak palace. Every thud of her boots echoed around the tunneling cave, and her heart flipped in her chest the farther inside the mountain she went.
What was she doing? This was not safe. There had to be another way to get the information she needed regarding Cadit Ohren's whereabouts. But, there was not, and she knew it. She had been over it many times during the trip here, and this was the only way.
And the only way she was going to get what she needed from Strelzar was to go in confidently, and prove she was an equal, or at least not as weak and nervous as she felt right now. She took a sharp inhale of the cold, ashy cave air and reached out and brushed the tunnel wall with her fingertips.
The older the earth, the more powerful the energy.
Layer upon layer of some of the oldest mountain in the world. It pulsed through her with the strength of a team of horses. She was immediately focused and invigorated, newly assured that she could take whatever he threw at her.
She reached the fortress door and slammed the giant iron knocker several times, and it was opened shortly by a guard whose face was masked
by a red hood. He gestured to a large staircase carved into the cave, spiraling down even further into the mountain. It was extremely warm inside the chamber, but she refused when the guard offered to take her coat, and continued past him to the stairs that led downward.
Torches blazed everywhere, every few feet on both sides of the spiral stair, and she felt like she had walked for ten minutes before she finally arrived at a large opening with another door. She knocked.
“Come in,” came a voice from the other side.
She opened the door and let herself into a huge cavern chamber at least five times the size of the entry chamber above. A massive fire pit had been carved into the wall on her right, and lavish furniture and furs were scattered all over the rest of the room—plush sitting chairs, velvet cushions, an ashen wood chess table, a giant black grizzly pelt draped over a huge bed that was adorned with flame red pillows made of delicate Tal'lea silk, candles and torches in wrought iron holders placed everywhere, and, in the center of the room, a long desk covered in parchment and leather bound books.
There he was, the most skilled Fire Mager in the world, his entire body shrouded in a hooded black silk robe, bent over a stack of parchment so she could not see his face.
“I am no longer taking pupils,” he drawled, “but if you need to borrow any books, the full library is behind me, past the curtain.”
“I am not here for tutelage, Master Strelzar,” Veria said, “But for information on one of your former apprentices.”
“Really?” he asked, not looking up, and sounding completely uninterested.
“Cadit Ohren,” she said.
Tension filled his shoulders and he stood slowly, angling his face toward her, but not removing his hood.
“I know but few people who would come looking for that particular name,” he muttered and came around the desk with lazy, deliberate steps. “So, tell me, then: who are you?”
“Veria Laurelgate, sir,” she answered.
“Sir. Ooh, I have not been called sir in a long time,” he murmured. “It is always 'master this' and 'master that'. So formal. Although, sir is formal, as well. So, maybe just call me Strelzar.”
Great, Veria though. Another old coot like Daloes. While she had learned to love her master's antics, Strelzar was a dangerous, possibly crazy old hermit. Which she had prepared herself for, but was hoping to avoid.
She definitely was not prepared for what she saw when Strelzar stepped closer and threw the hood off his head and removed the silk robe. Veria was almost certain that Daloes had mentioned that he and Strelzar were the same age, which would be over two centuries old. But the man in front of her was beautiful, perfect, ageless, looking not a day older than herself. Thick dark hair crowned his head, and a coal black beard framed his sharp, slender face. His skin was smooth, firm and unweathered, and his dark eyes were full of vitality and depth as they darted up and down every inch of her.
“I am very glad you did not just walk in here to tell me I am your father,” he joked, cracking a sly grin that exposed the most exquisite mouth she had ever seen. Perfect white pearls of teeth and granite-like lips that curled seductively across his chiseled visage.
“And why is that?” Veria teased. “Too young to have children who could be your students?”
He chuckled, his laugh like smooth coacoa.
“To put it bluntly, I never in my wildest fantasies would have imagined that old Gordy could have such a deliciously attractive daughter.”
She gulped, but tried to remain calm. “And I had you pictured as a humpbacked old cave troll,” she retorted. “So I guess we both get to be surprised.”
Grinning again, and surveying her as if he could see her insides, he asked: “How is Madame Tanisca?”
“Completely unsatisfied and discontented with her level of power, as usual,” she sighed.
“And you really think it wise to go digging around for clues about what happened to your father?” he asked, and began circling her in agile, predatory strides. “Sounds as if you inherited some of that Pyer Family discontent, as well, Little Laurelgate.”
“That is a possibility,” she conceded. “I would be closer to contentment if you have the information I have requested.”
“I am not concerned about contentment,” he said, waving his hands around as if to dismiss the feeling altogether. “But I do dabble in satisfaction regularly,” he added with suave suggestion, coming to a stop behind her and leaning in toward her as he did.
She went completely rigid as she felt his hands on her coat, sliding it off her shoulders with slow and deliberate movement. His breath hit her exposed neck and her skin prickled. He snorted pridefully as he whipped around and marched back toward the door to hang up her coat.
“You know what I can do to you, and yet you are still here? I presume your mother has spoken of me often,” he purred proudly.
“Honestly, she never mentioned you,” Veria stated, looking over her shoulder.
Strelzar's saunter seemed slightly deflated as he walked back toward her, but he corrected quickly. “Surely, Lord Gordon erased all her memories of our very heated time together,” he joked, a guileful smile spreading across his entire face, “if you will excuse the wordplay.”
“Surely,” Veria muttered.
“So how did you come to be here, then?” he asked, a bit apprehensively, keeping his glassy smile on in an attempt to mask it. “How did you hear of my former apprentice?”
“My master,” she answered, reciprocating with a coquettish smirk, “Daloes Caircliff.”
Strelzar's smile vanished instantly, and his hard stone lips pressed together like a vice.
“Daloes would never send a pretty little girl like you into my...cave.”
“He did not send me, I came of my own will,” she clarified.
“We swore an oath to never reveal each other's whereabouts, except to potential apprentices!” Strelzar snapped, quickly losing composure.
“He did not have to tell me,” Veria teased. “I found you on my own.”
He narrowed his black, corrupting eyes at her.
“You arrogant little earth bird,” he sneered. Do you have any idea what you are up against?”
With her steeliest, most confident stare, she locked eyes with him and nodded.
“Well, then, I might get what I was hoping for after all,” he shrugged.
And then it hit: thoughts crawling up her spine with tingling, urgent persistence. Suddenly she wanted him, needed him—she squirmed uncomfortably as the tingling spread from her spine to her neck, then her chest then—she knew she did not actually want him and she latched onto the truth. It was in there, with all of the burning thoughts of how she wished he would take her right then and there.
Her eyes flashed to the bed behind him, and he howled victoriously. “I am disappointed you would be defeated so easily.”
Connect! Veria ordered herself. Let him take you, now! screamed his powers of seduction and desire. Her heart pounded in her chest, and sweat began to form on her skin. One of her own hands mindlessly floated up and caressed her own neck. He watched in amused, victorious silence, licking his lips as her neck muscles released, her head flopped back, and she imagined his stony lips pressing against her.
She had to stop it—it was not real. She felt the energy of the ancient yet ageless volcanic rock shooting up through the soles of her feet, and she felt the truth inside of her: Strelzar was powerful, but so was she. She could beat his tired old arousal tricks, all she had to do was ground herself, connect to the earth...
Like cooling steam, the thoughts of desire and lust evaporated and then vanished. Veria stood straight and looked him square in the eyes.
Strelzar growled and stomped angrily. “You are good,” he conceded, reluctantly.
“Flattery will get you as far as your seduction skills did,” she refuted, mockingly.
“In all of her stubbornness and conceit, even your mother was never so insolent and arrogant,” Strelzar commented
through pursed lips.
“If I am bothering you, just give me the information I request and I will take leave of your home,” Veria suggested.
“Bothering me?” Strelzar humored the idea. “No, no. I find it adds to your...charm. I think I shall keep you, for just a bit longer.”
“If you wish, but it is a waste of time,” Veria mumbled.
“Is it? Because I have been going easy on you,” Strelzar said, his sharp brow rising up his forehead. “One thing you may not have learned from your precious Daloes is that Fire Magers always get what they want.”
Veria had remained connected with all of her strength during their banter, but she refocused and steeled herself against what she knew was coming. This time, it was not tingling thoughts creeping through her, but a sudden onslaught of burning desire.
Without even time to convince herself otherwise, or find a solid truth to grasp onto, she attacked him, and he was expecting it and ready for her. She clutched him by his thick, black hair and took his entire mouth with hers, with such force she should have knocked him over, but he grabbed her torso and steadied the both of them with an iron grip.
With physical strength she did not even know she was capable of, she shoved him back several feet, then lunged to close the gap between them and threw him down onto the black fur bed cover. Draping her body over his, she replanted her lips on his with desperation. Every single fiber of her body needed every fiber of him, and she clutched and ripped at his clothes like a crazed maniac. He laughed triumphantly as she bit his impeccably perfect chest.
This is not real! It fluttered through her mind, but was quickly overwhelmed with another rush of passion. An ardent outcry broke from her throat as he grabbed her and flipped her over onto her back, pinning her down with his flaming hot body. He urgently pressed into her, and she let her legs separate to create more room for him.
Victorious bellows continued to escape his luscious mouth as she helplessly and uncontrollably twisted underneath him, wanting him to take her, just to relieve her overwhelming arousal.
The Second Talisman: (Book II of the Elementals Series) Page 6