Sworn To Conflict: Courtlight #3

by Edun, Terah

  As she turned to stand back by his side he kept a tight grip on her left hand. She squeezed in reassurance. She wasn’t sure what had just happened to them but she hoped whatever it was worked. They were all out of options and the Old Ones were waiting.

  Chapter 13

  For a few moments the cavern was silent as the soldiers, Vana, Serena, and even the frost giants stared at the young couple holding hands.

  “Well?” snapped Vana. “As much as I enjoyed the show, did it do anything?”

  Ciardis felt Sebastian stiffen. She didn’t have to read his emotions or his mind to know that he was upset at Vana’s impertinence.

  She was talking to me, she whispered mind-to-mind.

  “I don’t care,” he said with all the regality of one born to the Imperial throne. He tossed a sharp glance at Lady Vana.

  Lady Serena began to speak up and Ciardis murmured too quietly, “Wait, I hear something.”

  “Ciardis, I suggest you figure out—” Lady Serena was silenced by the abrupt hand Prince Heir Sebastian threw up, commanding her to cease speaking.

  He partially turned to Ciardis and dipped his head to her. “What? What do you hear?”

  She paused for a second and turned a puzzled face to look at the surroundings around her. “A buzzing. It’s coming from somewhere nearby.”

  The buzzing sound grew louder and louder. But no one else could hear it. As her hearing was overwhelmed, Ciardis fell to her knees screaming in pain. Prince Heir Sebastian was helpless to stop it. When he pried her hands from her ears the look in his startled eyes said he was horrified to see the blood that was running down her earlobes and onto her neck.

  Ciardis closed her eyes while tears ran down her cheeks. She breathed heavily, trying to ride out the pain. The buzzing was more than a sound, more than a physical thrum; it was a surge of magic in her head. The overwhelming presence of other in her mind. She knew the source instinctively. It was the Old Ones trying to communicate a vast concept to a tiny mind. A concept that was simple to them but was quickly becoming fatal for her.

  She did her best to listen, but even she couldn’t hold out for long. Ciardis shrank further and further into the recesses of her gift. Hoping for any way to ease the pain. And then the strange mage core that she had seen a hint of before came back. But it came back as more than a presence. Curled into a fetal position within her own mind, Ciardis was shielding her mage core as best she could. She couldn’t understand the Old Ones and they couldn’t understand her. But she knew that if she were exposed to one more push from them, one more attempt from them to show her the concept, explain their reasoning, then her mage core would burst. And she would die.

  She felt the strange mage power prod her softly at first and then more insistently. She uncurled her body slightly, ready to curl right back up quickly if she came under assault again. She didn’t know it, but she had just built the strongest mage fortifications in her life. Even Sebastian couldn’t reach her. She couldn’t hear him. Only the blankness of her own mind, the steady thrum of her mage core in her center, the strange feel of the other mage core lingering near her own, and the overwhelming wave of power that threatened to come down upon her once more from the Old Ones.

  The mage fortification was a mental manifestation of fear – fear of drowning in the overwhelming power of the Old Ones. She had heard of mage fortifications that took on the manifestations of castle walls or moats. Anything that the mage thought would bar another from accessing his or her gift. In her panic, she’d done the only thing that had come to mind. She had mentally curled her body into a ball around the core. Hell, it had worked when protecting her prized tankard from the evil little hands of the village children when they had set out to target her and her meager belongings.

  Mind back on task, Ciardis cracked open a wary eye to look at the mage power that was lurking in her mind. It looked like an unwieldy tunnel that was wrapped around her like a snake. She could see its power coursing as it endured wave after wave of the Old Ones’ power. It was halting their advance and, to her enduring curiosity, the Old Ones weren’t attacking it, just pushing at it insistently. What could that mean? And where had the strange mage power come from? Who had it come from?

  And then dread filled her. A small opening was slowly materializing in the glowing coils of the snake of power that wrapped around her like a cocoon. Frantically she scooted back to the opposite wall of coils, clutching her mage core like a child. She didn’t know what to do. But she soon noticed that the coils were forming the hole deliberately. That didn’t make her any happier, but it did ease the frantic beating of her heart.

  Shortly, a voice that Ciardis recognized spoke to her in her mind’s eye.

  Trust me.

  Two words, but two words that rocked her world. The voice had come from the coils surrounding her. Protecting her. The voice had been Lady Serena’s. Serena was her benefactor?

  I must be hallucinating, that’s the only explanation for that, Ciardis thought to herself.

  But right now there wasn’t anyone besides the voice of the coils, herself, and the Old Ones’ gift. On a scale from bad to worse, Ciardis decided that trusting the idea that it was Serena protecting her was right up there at “worse.” She spoke aloud, hoping the voice would answer. “Lady Serena?”

  Nothing spoke. No voice answered her and she was left alone in her mind with the quiet hum of the coils around her. Frustrated, Ciardis reached out and kicked the closest loop. Not a budge or a sound. And still the hole in the wall grew ever larger. Today was just not her day.

  Swallowing deeply, she watched as the Old Ones’ power focused on the hole. To her relief, it didn’t rush in quickly. But it tried to. The coils surrounding the hole quickly shut off, like a valve, when it sensed the rush. This went on for a minute or two: open a little, then close in a rush when the force of power coming through the hole was too great. Eventually Ciardis realized that the coils were responding the Old Ones power. Too much and it closed. Just enough and it stayed open.

  As the power from the Old Ones’ grew smaller and smaller to accommodate the valve put in place by the strange mage, Ciardis felt some relief as well as exasperation.

  “How about you teach it to get out of my mind?” she said aloud to the coils around her. She didn’t really have any hope of them responding to her question.

  That didn’t look like it was an option today. Little by little, the Old Ones’ power shrank until it was a thick rope of mist no bigger than her arm. It eased into the opening gingerly. Ciardis stayed were she was on the opposite side, eyeing the glowing rope that was coming through the hole in the coils of power protecting her. She refused to acknowledge the protective barrier surrounding her as a form of Serena’s magic. That was just preposterous.

  And then she felt a nudge. Ciardis frowned and turned to eye the wall behind her. One of the coils edged forward to nudge her again.

  “For the love of all that is good,” she muttered.

  And reluctantly, seeing as she had no other option trapped in another mage’s hold within her own mind, she stretched out a tentative hand. Careful to keep a tight grip on her mage core with the other. She had to wonder if this was really real. Was she really being protected by another mage’s power wrapped around the mage core within her own mind?

  Crazier things have happened.

  Her hand was shaking. Not from tiredness, but from being so close to the Old Ones’ magic. The small bit that was inside her cocoon was letting off wave after wave of aura. Old magic that was laced with history and meaning that she didn’t understand.

  Conversationally, she said, “Maybe you should have picked Lady Vana or General Barnaren. They are much more knowledgeable about arcane subjects than I. They went to school, after all.”

  The powerful coils wrapped around her didn’t budge.

  “The mage school,” she added helpfully.

  If a glowing, thick rope could thrum with scorn, this one did. Apparently the Old Ones had no apprecia
tion for the finest mage school on this side of the world.

  Ciardis sighed and said, “Well, let’s get to it. Can’t stay in here forever, can we?”

  She uncurled the taut fingers on her outstretched hand, still shaking, and deliberately beckoned to the power that was slowly coming through the valve. The power of the Old Ones didn’t wait. She was surprised to see it snap cleanly off from the wave of power hovering outside her cocoon and form into a solid, glowing ball inside the safety of the walls formed by the coils. The ball hovered over her for a minute, and then it descended. It landed softly on the palm of her hand, where it felt like the cool tickle of feathers. Then the ball hovering on her palm descended downward past the barrier of her skin and into the muscles of her hand.

  Ciardis couldn’t say the sensation was as wonderful as the soft feel of feathers, but it wasn’t outright pain, either. Her hand began to feel heavier, as if two forms were being mashed together in a merger of clay that was slowly figuring out where each individual piece fit and belonged. She really hoped the power didn’t start pushing her body parts out of the way. She was a strong proponent of her muscles and filaments belonging right where they should.

  The power settled and it felt like a new glove hovering above the skin of her hand. The hand was the same size, the same shape, but it felt heavier.

  Which was weird, because the orb had been nothing but power. Hadn’t it?

  “Well,” Ciardis said aloud, “that was different.”

  Outside of her cocoon she noticed that the waves of power from the Old Ones were changing into the multi-colored hues of the aura. It was like watching an ever-moving rainbow in her mind. A rainbow she was really getting tired of. And then it began to recede. Before long the waves had completely dissipated, leaving her with the coils of protection and a slightly heavier hand.

  She shook the hand experimentally. Trying to see if the ball of power had done anything. Nothing happened. No spark, no magical mist, and no mysterious connection to the Old Ones which was what she had been hoping for. Their party had traveled a great distance from camp, suffered extreme losses and the Old Ones’ had made it clear from their magical interference that they wanted something. But what that was continued to be a mystery.

  “Weren’t we supposed to talk?” she said out loud to the receded Old Ones’ in confusion and disgust.

  No answer was forthcoming, and the coils disappeared just as the waves around her did. No farewell, no goodbye. Just gone.

  Unsteadily, Ciardis stood up in the empty darkness of her mind while clutching her mage core to her side with her unaffected hand. She had not the faintest clue how to get out of her own mind.

  She felt her hand itch for a second. Her right hand.

  The hand itched again and then twitched forward. Of its own accord. She felt it shake and she certainly wasn’t commanding it to do so. The hand jerked upward with a life of its own and a ball of magic the size of a thimble shot out from her fingertips. Not her magic. It wasn’t the golden color of the Weathervanes nor did it feel like her gift; this was the magic of the Old Ones.

  “Oh, no, no, no” she said frantically. “This is not happening.”

  “My hand cannot have a life of its own,” she screamed into the darkness. “Do you hear me?”

  And then she disappeared.

  *****

  With a massive headache and lots of grogginess she opened her eyes. There were figures standing around her. Too many. Of all different heights.

  “Yes, we hear you,” said a voice soothingly.

  Another voice, deeper and female, said, “Hear what? Her screaming like a lunatic?”

  That sounded disturbingly like Lady Vana.

  Taking a look around, Ciardis stared up from where she lay flat out on the ground. Prince Sebastian was at the top with her head in his lap, Vana and Serena knelt side by side on her left, Warlord Inga knelt to her right, Kane off to her side, and General Barnaren stood at her feet, staring down at her moodily with his arms crossed.

  “What? What happened?” she said into the stillness.

  “Well, you fell unconscious, bleeding from your nose and ears,” said Vana cheerfully, “and nearly scared Prince Heir Sebastian half to death. And then you started screaming.”

  Ciardis shot up as she remembered what had happened to her in her mind.

  She clawed at her hand. “Get it off! Get it off!”

  “Like that,” said Vana with the same disturbing cheerfulness.

  Warlord Inga pulled a knife the size of a sword out of nowhere and quickly pinned Ciardis’s hand in a grip that threatened to cut off her circulation. “Get what off?”

  “The Old Ones’ power,” Ciardis responded frantically. “It’s in my hand.” Although she was a bit more concerned with the knife that was inches from her skin.

  To her relief, neither Serena nor Vana were looking at her as if she were insane. General Barnaren just looked thoughtful.

  “We see nothing,” ventured Vana.

  Warlord Inga turned her hand this way and that, nearly dislocating her shoulder in the process.

  “There is nothing there,” Inga declared.

  “Use your mage sight,” Ciardis said.

  Vana didn’t bother commenting. Ciardis saw a purple cloud descend over her eyes as Vana carefully looked over Ciardis’s right hand in a thorough up and down manner.

  “Nothing is there,” she declared.

  “There has to be.”

  “Ciardis,” Prince Sebastian finally spoke, “we believe you...but nothing can get past Vana Cloudbreaker’s gaze. No spell, no construction. She would know.”

  “I know what I saw.” Stubborn.

  “And we know what we see,” said Serena with a steady gaze. Ciardis narrowed her eyes at her. There was something off about Serena. Something different. Something competent. Something powerful. Or, more likely, Ciardis was just feeling the side effects of momentary delusion.

  “What happened while I was unconscious?” Ciardis asked.

  “You fell. The Old Ones vanished. The pillars descended. And we gathered over here,” said the general in a flat tone that brooked no argument.

  No one seemed inclined to disagree.

  “Here where?” Ciardis asked.

  “We’re at the bottom of the chasm,” Kane said from where he stood off Warlord Inga’s shoulder. His expression was filled with worry.

  Ciardis strove to keep a calm tone in her voice. “And how to do we get out of here?”

  “There’s a promising hole in the wall about five meters in the distance,” Prince Sebastian said, his hand resting on her head. His voice was calm. His movements were steady. His emotions were frantic.

  We have a lot to discuss, he whispered in her mind.

  She grimaced. His thoughts echoed in her head. Headaches were the last thing she wanted, but she had to know.

  Did you see what I saw?

  No.

  Disappointment filled her. Then determination. They needed to get out of this hellhole first. Then they’d figure out what the Old Ones had done to her.

  Just before she lurched up out of everyone’s grip, Ciardis looked around and said, “Wait...did anyone talk to the Old Ones, then?”

  There was an uncomfortable silence and a dark glare from General Barnaren.

  Ciardis didn’t even bother questioning what the point of this whole trip had been. She wasn’t ready to die by fiery lightning.

  She hobbled as she stood up, took another step and collapsed under her own weight. Her fall was stopped by a pair of strong hands. Warlord Inga had caught her and smoothly picked her up.

  “What are you—” Ciardis weakly protested.

  “You will only slow us down in the climb.”

  “Climb?” Ciardis said.

  “I explored the hole a little.” That was Vana’s cheerful voice echoing in the distance.

  “It goes up in a steep climb. It’s sheer rock, but it’s got some unevenness for a good grip,” she continued.

/>   If Ciardis didn’t know any better, she would have said Vana was enjoying herself.

  “Good grip, my ass.” That voice was the major’s. Someone wasn’t looking forward to the climb.

  “How are you going to climb while carrying me?” Ciardis asked.

  A frost giant warrior came up silently and handed Inga a large cloth. Inga shifted Ciardis to one arm and expertly tied the cloth over her shoulder with a double knot. Ciardis was unceremoniously slipped into the carrier on her back, and that was that.

  Chapter 14

  An hour into the climb the same frost giant who had given Inga the cloth before they entered the tunnel, peeked her face into the sling happily, almost scaring Ciardis to death, and said, “Frost giant children are often carried on the hunt with their mothers this way. They get used to the sights, the sounds and the smells of the kills. They learn even while sleeping.”

  Ciardis smiled weakly back. What was she supposed to say to that?

  As they climbed Ciardis had time to peek out of her sling and see the cavern walls around them. They were made of a dark volcanic rock with shiny bits of stone in them. Where the volcanic rock and shiny particles had mixed and melted together was a layer of sheer, smooth black that looked like the night sky with twinkling stars. She couldn’t help but reach out to touch the roof when Warlord Inga had to climb through a particularly narrow passage.

  Her right hand reached up like a child’s to feel the starry sky. Her left hand was bound underneath her body in the sling. In retrospect, she should have thought it through first. Not the mechanics; the outcome. The second her hand touched the starry stone she saw a bright spark of power emit from her fingertips and spread onto the face of the rock in rippling pools.

  She had time enough to groan, “This can’t be good,” before she and Inga were pulled up into the ceiling wall.

  Left behind, her group of friends stared up at the smooth ceiling while Vana commented, “Didn’t I tell you that we should tie that girl up?”