by Ash, Sarah
She crossed her arms defensively across her chest, a gesture he recognized as meaning that she was not prepared to abandon her plan without a fight.
***
Gavril had tied his scarf in a double knot about his throat. And even though his hands were protected by old woolen gloves, he could hardly feel the paintbrush between his numbed fingers and thumb anymore.
He became aware of a faint shiver of sound, thin and high, an icy vibration in the air that set his teeth tingling. And the gash in his wrist began to tingle as well, as if in response to the one who had sliced his flesh with her blade of ice. So she had returned.
I have questions for you, Lady Frost.
Morozhka appeared in the studio doorway. But this time she was not alone. Two men followed her into the studio: Tarakh and Radakh.
Gavril set down his brush. “I thought you were out on patrol today,” he said to the twins and saw that same distant look in their eyes he had seen when Morozhka had first bound them to her in the forest. “What are you doing here?”
They did not respond.
“You promised these two to me, Lord Drakhaon,” Morozhka said. “Or had you forgotten?” There was a slight edge to her voice.
“They’re still my druzhina,” Gavril held her gaze, determined not to be outfaced. “They have duties to carry out.” Still no flicker of a response from either of the twins. He had underestimated the strength of her hold over them. “And what did you want with my daughter, Lady Morozhka?”
“I was curious to see if Khezef had left any memories with her.”
Her reply both infuriated and terrified him. If Kiukiu hadn’t acted so swiftly the previous night, what would have become of Risa? “How could he have done? She’s my child. Kiukiu’s and my child. And there was no need to scare Kiukiu like that. If you had wanted to see Larisa, you could have asked me—”
“But winter will soon be drawing to a close. The hours of sunlight are growing longer. It’s time for me to sleep until the coming of autumn.” She came closer and suddenly leaned in to stroke his cheek. “You made me a promise, Drakhaon,” she said in a low, intimate voice. “When I wake again with the falling of the leaves, I expect answers from you. You won’t disappoint me, will you?”
At least while she slept through the long summer days, he and Kiukiu would have no reason to fear that she would try to steal Larisa away again. He endured her chill touch even though it had set the gash in his wrist aching more agonizingly than before.
“I’ll do the best I can,” he said, even though he had no idea how he would be able to make sense of the paintings.
“Don’t forget our agreement, Lord Drakhaon. Set your men to watch over me while I sleep.” She turned, first to Radakh and then to Tarakh, and they gazed back at her adoringly, as if mesmerized by her presence. “My beautiful, brave bodyguards. You’ll protect me, won’t you?”
“We won’t let anyone disturb you,” Radakh said fervently.
“You can count on us,” Tarakh added with equal ardor.
“You will escort me to the Round,” she said, slipping her hands between their arms. As they went back into the garden, she turned her white head and said over her shoulder, “Till the autumn, then. Use the summertime well, Lord Gavril.”
Gavril watched them until they were out of sight. Then he stretched out his right hand to take up his paintbrush once more, automatically dipped it into a blob of cobalt, raised it to the canvas—and saw, to his concern, that it was shaking so much that little drops of blue paint were spattering everywhere.
Chapter 21
Khitari
Kaspar Linnaius drew the fur-lined coat more tightly about him as he made his way carefully up the slippery mountain path. It was a long time since he had visited the Jade Springs in winter and, although he had landed his sky-craft on a ridge near the hidden entrance to the sacred pool, a thick, icy layer of snow encrusted the rocks, making the approach treacherous underfoot.
Leaning on a sturdy walking stick, he headed toward the clouds of steam rising from the volcanic hot springs. High above the misty atmosphere, the Khitari sky was a pale wintry blue; no snow would fall today.
“Papa, why have you brought me here?” The whisper of a child’s voice, long buried in his memory, drove him on, upward. “It’s so cold. So lonely. Why didn’t Mama come too?”
“Does she already know I’m here, I wonder,” he murmured as, breathless from exerting himself in the thin, keen air, he reached the stone archway that led into the shrine watched over by the Guardian of the Springs. Passing through, he was enveloped in a thick fog. The sound of bubbling grew louder, as well as the serpent-like hiss of the rising fumes.
A dark shape suddenly reared up out of the warm water in front of him. Water streamed from the emerald coils of a great snake as it rose from the springs, looming over him. Taken by surprise, he only just managed to stop, teetering on the edge, almost falling in.
“Kaspar Linnaius,” hissed the Guardian, “I was not expecting to see you again so soon. Why have you come?”
“Lady Anagini.” Linnaius recovered himself and bowed. “I want you to answer a question.”
The jeweled coils shimmered in the dim light, wavering, reforming themselves into the figure of a tall, slender woman whose long, sleek hair falling in fronds over her full breasts was the dark green of water weed.
“I cannot tell if I can answer until I know what the question might be, Magus.”
If Linnaius had not been so eager for information, he would have smiled at her predictably oblique reply. But he had been following a long and frustratingly fruitless trail and Anagini was his last, most desperate hope.
“When you first healed me, many years ago, we made a bargain. You took something from me in exchange for repairing my damaged body and extending my life force. Something very precious to me. And you forbade me to talk of our bargain with anyone. It was a very cruel exchange.”
“But you agreed to it,” said Anagini, her serpent’s eyes glinting with a shrewd and inhuman coldness. “Did you think you could break our bond? Did you think, Magus, that the wiles you’ve used to deceive others would work on me?”
Linnaius sighed. He had learned over many years to endure the heartache, to immure himself from all personal attachments, save his loyalty to the royal house of Tielen. “Whatever I thought, you proved me wrong. I hoped you might have relented. To take a seven-year-old child from her mother and family was a heartless act.”
“You knew the conditions. If you cared that much about your daughter, you could have withdrawn from the agreement.”
Linnaius bowed his head in assent. There was no arguing with the Snake Woman’s logic. He had sacrificed his only child—and his marriage—to repay his debt to Anagini. “But why did you take away my memories of what I’d done?”
“Because,” and she reached out to stroke his face from brow to chin, “you would have done all you could to take her back. And I needed her. She was such a special child; it’s so rare to find a girl with mage blood inherited from both her parents. So, when did you remember?”
Little Eliane’s eyes, soft black, like her mother Ilona’s, dusted with silvered flecks, legacy of his wind mage blood, gazing uncomprehendingly up into his . . .
“When you healed me the second time. Not everything came back at once; fragments of memory began to surface and piece themselves together. By the time of the Second Darkness, it all fell into place.”
“And now you’ve returned to ask me where she is.”
“You must know!” She was toying with him, playing with his emotions for her own amusement, and it infuriated him to feel so helpless.
“Don’t leave me, Papa. Please don’t leave me here alone. I’ll be good, I promise.” Those plaintive words that had been erased from his memory now echoed through his mind, each one piercing his conscience like a rain-shower of poisoned barbs.
“It’s all a very long time ago, my dear Kaspar. Your daughter left me. She grew into a cleve
r, artful young woman and, at twenty-one, she found a way to elude me and escape. Are you truly surprised that she made no attempt to find her father after that? She had hardened her heart to the man who exchanged her for a new lease of life.”
Linnaius felt a tremor of fury run through him at the callousness of her words . Of course, she’s an Elder Spirit, she has no feelings. She’s lived for so many centuries that it merely amuses her to toy with us mortals.
“So you never made any effort to find out what became of her?” he asked. “Even though she’d served you faithfully for fourteen years?”
Anagini gave a little shrug. “I may have whispered to her once or twice in dreams, but she devised ways to block out my voice. She wanted things I could not give her here: music; lovers; admiration . . . even children of her own.”
“She wanted children?” Linnaius said, his voice suddenly hoarse. “So . . .”
“Even though—in spite of her mage blood—she must be dead by now, Kaspar, her descendants might well still be alive.”
She must be dead. Those simple words tore at his heart like claws. He stared at her, hating her for her unfeeling cruelty. “If you hadn’t taken my memories from me,” he said, hearing a tremble of loathing making his voice unsteady, “I might have had the chance to repair some of the damage I’d done her, at the least to tell her how sorry I—”
A ripple of dazzling light pierced the rising mists. He tensed, bracing himself, sensing the sudden appearance of a keen, yet unfamiliar power nearby. Glancing at Anagini, he saw that her body had stiffened and her eyes had narrowed to jade slits as though trying to scry through the surrounding rocks and beyond .
“Who—or what —is that?” he asked softly.
“Whatever it is,” she said, “it is powerful enough to penetrate the barriers I weave to protect the Springs. Could it be—”
Before she could finish, a tall figure materialized out of the steam. At first Linnaius could only make out a shadowy outline coming toward them at a swift, purposeful pace; then the gleam of the newcomer’s eyes pierced the drifting mists, fiery gold, staring at them both like a hunter seeking out his prey.
“Who dares enter my sanctuary without asking my permission?” Anagini demanded. “Identify yourself.”
The intruder came on steadily until he faced them across the pool. An aura of raw power emanating from his body shimmered like a haze of heat. His hair was the colour of flame and the feathers on the great wings furled at his back flickered scarlet, blue and gold, like a blazing furnace. And in his right hand he carried a gleaming sword from which gouts of flame dropped onto the frozen ground, melting the ice into hissing steam.
Linnaius stared, speechless . A Winged Warrior—in the mortal world?
“My name is Ardarel, Lord of Heavenly Fire,” the Warrior said, “and I have been sent to punish you both.”
“Let me guess,” Anagini said, drawing herself to her full imposing height. “That young upstart Galizur sent you.”
Ardarel frowned. “How dare you speak so rudely of his highness, Prince Galizur?”
“Because I am old enough to be his mother,” she said, “and for all you know, I might indeed be his mother.”
Linnaius glanced anxiously at Anagini, wondering why she was rash enough to speak so provocatively to Ardarel.
“Prince Galizur has reason to believe that you are protecting a mortal child born of a forbidden union.”
Linnaius felt his heart begin to beat painfully fast against his ribs.
“And what if I am?” Anagini said.”That child did not choose its parents. It has committed no crime. I thought that you Warriors were sworn to protect the innocent, not slaughter innocent babies.”
So that’s her plan; she’s trying to trick him into revealing more than he should about his mission.
“Even so, we know that the Drakhaoul Khezef passed on some of his aethyric powers before he left the mortal world. And that child cannot be allowed to live.”
“Why? Why would a mere child pose such a threat to the mighty prince Galizur?” The naked contempt in her question made Linnaius flinch, fearing
“Because the child is a Key. A Key that unlocks the Hidden Gates between this world and the Ways Beyond. And you, Magus,” Ardarel turned his burning gaze on Linnaius who suddenly felt very vulnerable and helpless. “When the Serpent Gate was destroyed, we believed that was the end of the magi’s meddling—but no, they had to go and set Nagazdiel free from the Realm of Shadows.”
Linnaius’s legs began to buckle as the Winged Warrior’s accusing stare bored into him; he sank to one knee, wondering how long he could manage to stay conscious beneath such a pitiless, powerful scrutiny. “But I and my protégé Rieuk sealed Nagazdiel away again. The feat almost killed us both. But we closed that Gate forever—”
“Your kindred will not escape the purge this time,” Ardarel said, advancing on him. “Others will follow me soon and they will be ruthless in carrying out their mission. Galizur has issued a decree: all magi with the blood of Nagazdiel and his daughter Azilis in their veins must be destroyed.”
“And if I could tell you where this Key Child is to be found,” said Anagini suddenly. Ardarel swung around to face her again. “What would you do, Ardarel? Could you give me your word not to harm her?”
“I am only accountable to Prince Galizur.”
“If you can’t assure me of her safety, then why would I tell you where she is?”
Her? She? Which child are they talking about? Linnaius racked his brains for a clue. Surely not little Princess Karila? She was brought back to life by Khezef at the Serpent Gate but as far as I know she’s no different from any of the other descendants of Artamon . . .
“You will tell me all you know. Or I will force the information from you.”
Anagini threw back her head and laughed. Linnaius stared, aghast. Ardarel did not move for a second, as though baffled by her reaction. And then he thrust his flaming sword at her.
Anagini sidestepped and plunged deep into the pool to avoid the fiery blade. As it made contact with the green water, the flames were extinguished in a plume of sizzling steam.
“Go, Kaspar!” Anagini cried, surfacing a little way off. Linnaius needed no further bidding. As he hurried toward the rocky arch through which he had come, he saw from the corner of his eye, that Ardarel was following him. Passing one hand along the keen edge of his sword blade, the Warrior’ s blood dripped and caught alight in a thin streak of fresh flame.
Is this the end for me? Linnaius had faced many dangers in his long life, but this stern-faced Warrior with fire-tipped wings might turn out to be his final adversary. I can’t die yet—not without finding out what became of my daughter.
The clouds of steam rising from the Jade Springs had turned as thick and impenetrable as a winter fog. Was Anagini doing this to help him escape? He pressed one hand to his temples, sending out a desperate plea for help to his oldest ally.
“Izkael! Come now. I need you.”
A red glow seared the drifting fogs; Ardarel was on his tail and catching up fast. Linnaius stumbled beneath the archway and found himself shivering in the bitter winter chill of the open mountainside. Overhead the stars burned cruel and clear in the moonless black Khitari night.
And then he saw Izkael, a streak of quicksilver against the jet sky, his eyes gleaming like shooting stars, as he dived down from the heavens straight toward him, uncoiling like a stretched spring. There was no time to find the sky-craft; he would have to ride the wouivre bareback as he had done as a boy.
“Get me out of here, Izkael.” Linnaius hitched up his robes, grasped hold of the great creature’s neck and clambered onto the silky-scaled back.
“Where now, Kaspar?” Izkael’s voice vibrated through him as they skimmed upward into the chill air, deep as the bass notes of the great organ in Saint Meriadec’s in Lutèce.
“Anywhere.” Linnaius just about managed to say the word as he clung on to Izkael’s body, his breath knocked fr
om his body by the swiftness of the ascent.
Ardarel came through the archway and Linnaius saw him far below, his sword dripping gouts of bloody fire onto the snow. The Warrior gazed up at them and, unfurling his vast wings, leapt into the night, each powerful wing-beat propelling him closer to them.
“He’s persistent, this one,” Linnaius muttered. “Can you outfly him, Izkael?”
“I’ll do my best. Hold on tight!” The wouivre shot off, a translucent arrow darting through the darkness.
“Stop!” Ardarel’s command rang out above the whistle of Izkael’s swift flight. Linnaius did not dare look back for fear of losing his grip on Izkael’s back but he could sense a current of heat growing in intensity behind him.
He called himself Lord of Heavenly Fire. Does that mean his powers increase in the air?
Another bolt of flame seared past them; Linnaius felt Izkael flinch and his speed begin to decrease.
“Izkael? Are you all right?”
“Kaspar . . . I’m sorry . . .”
They came slowly spiraling downward toward the land far below, Linnaius, gripping hold with all his might, willing his own life force into the injured wouivre.
Izkael landed awkwardly, and came to a slithering, bumping halt, on a vast and empty snow-covered plain, with only the stars overhead for light.
“Izkael. Speak to me.” Linnaius rolled off onto the grass, gasping the icy air into his lungs to regain his breath. After a moment’s dizziness, he forced himself up and began to check the wouivre’s long, translucent-scaled body for injuries. “Where did he get you? Tell me.”
Izkael merely laid his great head down on the snow and let out a rippling sigh. And before Linnaius’s astonished eyes, his long serpentine body began to shrink and alter, changing to his mortal form: a horned man whose hair and eyes were silver as the starlight overhead. He had not undergone this drastic transformation in over a hundred years and Linnaius, distressed to see it, knew that he must be badly hurt to be forced to resort to this life-preserving tactic.