The pause from the bookcase was longer this time; it was almost as if the bookshelf was contemplating her request, trying to decide if it would give the book or not. She used the time to carefully pack away her emotions, setting them aside to deal with at a later date. It took her a moment to clear her mind of the disturbing memories, but she managed it. Unfortunately, the great sadness lingered with her.
Finally the bookcase came to a decision and said, «Here.» A book on the third shelf down from the top slid out. «Thank you,» she said as she pulled a delicate and slightly tattered looking book from the shelf and shut the glass door.
“It almost didn’t give it to me; here, take it.” She quickly handed the book over to Andulmaion. He looked shocked.
“How old do you think it is? It’s so brittle, it seems as if it would blow away with a slight breeze” she said.
Andulmaion’s eyes sparkled with complex patterns as he reverently held the book in his hands. “Oh, it won’t. Blow away that is. I recognize the look of this book; I believe it used to belong to a set. They’re well protected and nothing we do to it could ever damage it. Come, see.” He set the book upon the table and opened the worn leather binding to reveal the first page. He smiled triumphantly, “Look.” He pointed to the name on the page.
“Elenna the Wise. It’s your great-ancestor, the one with the knowing,” she exclaimed.
“That is what some call her,” he shrugged. “Our library back home is filled with many such books. I’m very happy to have the reading of this.” He settled down in a chair and reverently turned a few pages.
Analindë grabbed her book and sat on the opposite side of the table facing him. She glanced at the bookcase, then back to Andulmaion. What in the stars had they gotten themselves into. She ran her hand along the outside cover of her book; an intricate swirling pattern had been worked into it. The cover looked soft, yet it was durable at the same time.
She ran her fingernail across the surface to feel its texture and was shocked to find that the cover had filed down a part of her nail. She looked to Andulmaion to tell him of her discovery, but he was devouring the book before him. Not wanting to interrupt, she turned back to her book. She opened the cover and flipped past the first few empty pages. When she got to the introduction page she almost couldn’t read the text. The letters were formed differently. The sentence structure wasn’t laid out as she’d expected. “Stars-stars-stars-stars-stars!” Analindë hissed under her breath.
It was written in a more ancient form of Elvish than the scrying book, and for the first time in her life she honestly felt grateful for the decades of language courses her parents had foisted upon her.
Within a few pages, Analindë was astounded. The type of transportation spell described was so vastly different from anything she had ever heard of that the possibilities it implied were staggering. Its basic concepts were so foreign that they opened up entire new ways of looking at Energy study. No wonder Andulmaion had backed away from it so quickly.
The book was fascinating and it was entertaining. It was a happy book and kept changing its tune from one courtly dance to another. She found it uplifted her heart, and it wasn’t long before her sadness had dissipated away completely.
She liked the book. Its basic premise was that one could travel from any point to another, the only restriction being if either of the places was shielded against this type of transport. It told of how some places were better for jumping—that was what this type of transportation was called—than others, and it told her how to find those places. It warned several times about becoming lost in the void if the place you were jumping to was shielded. She shuddered, remembering the weightless, drifting feeling she’d experienced in the void.
Those warnings were followed with lessons on etiquette, reminding the reader that it was not polite to arrive unannounced within someone’s home. If one lacked the courtesy to arrive some distance away from someone’s domicile, thereby giving notice of arrival, then one deserved to float in the void until they could be rescued. The author of the book had certainly had a wicked sense of humor.
She found her mind wandering, puzzling out the possibilities of the void. She wondered if she had enough experience to get herself out of the void on her own or if she’d be one of the ones who accidentally became stuck. At least she knew plenty about the void already; if she got lost, perhaps she’d be able to make her way out.
The book went on to state that these types of shields could last indefinitely unless they were otherwise taken down or destroyed. They could be keyed to work for or against specific people or families so one could transport into their own home but others couldn’t. It warned that one should keep up on who was feuding with whom so one wouldn’t accidentally become trapped at a prior friend’s home.
It spoke of the correct way to anchor and ground oneself before casting the spell; six evenly spaced anchor points, as if in the pattern of a star. And it told how to transport more than just oneself by anchoring and holding onto others when you jumped.
Analindë’s eyes were smarting by the time Andulmaion interrupted her, “Analindë come, we should get some lunch. Then I would show you what I have learned.” She was beyond tired; she’d spent all night searching for the Humans and all morning studying. The thought of food sounded wonderful, and then perhaps a brief nap?
She hadn’t realized she was ravenous; they zipped down to the kitchens to eat lunch and were back to the tower in record time. They’d declined hails from their friends, choosing to eat quickly by themselves.
Upon reaching the tower they headed directly into the workshop. Andulmaion sealed the doors behind him and said, “Watch.”
She shifted to magesight as he grounded and centered, then spun out a globe of Energy in brilliant red. “It’s beautiful.” She whispered in awe. The mastery and ease with which he spun energies made her efforts look clumsy in comparison. She slipped out of her magesight; the globe still glowed brightly before her but was significantly dimmer.
“You asked me how it drains Energy from something. Watch.” He directed his attention to a glass pyramid sitting on a nearby table. Its energies pulsed faintly.
He sent the red globe over to the triangular shape. It hovered and then it began to suck the Energy from the teaching aid as it grew larger with every particle it consumed.
It was not forceful. It did not attack. The pyramid’s Energy simply drifted outward without being touched.
“Can you shield from it?”
“I don’t know, I haven’t read that far; however, I can direct it toward something. That, I was not able to do before.”
“May I?” she asked as she flung a shield up in front of the object. She immediately realized her error when the Energy threads in her shield began fraying apart, flowing toward the globe Andulmaion had created. She mutated her shield to act in reverse, reflecting the Energy being drawn out of the pyramid back to itself and creating a hard, slick surface like glass that faced the blaze of his spell. Andulmaion grunted but she didn’t turn to watch him; she was too interested in what was happening with the pyramid.
Everything worked perfectly until the globe started shooting out sparks of Energy. Shattering her shield, it latched onto her Energy reserves as well as the pyramid’s and continued to draw. She yelped and collapsed as the globe drew on her Energy.
“Analindë!”
Andulmaion quickly dissolved the spell and knelt beside her a moment later. “Analindë, I’m so sorry. I couldn’t stop it at once. Are you all right?” She groaned and pushed herself to a seated position.
“Yes.” He helped her up. She said, “That’s quite a weapon. Did you see how it took time to figure out how to break through my shielding before it attacked? It’s amazing.”
She stretched a little; her muscles throbbed slightly in pain from her tussle with the globe. Although something else hurt worse within her, she couldn’t remember when that injury had happened. Oh, yes. It was from scrying the void. She started to
hobble out of the room, but then she paused. Andulmaion was standing there, stunned. “It was the orb attacking me on its own, wasn’t it? It wasn’t you?”
“No, of course not.” He stumbled. “I mean, yes, it was the orb. Analindë, are you sure you’re okay? I’m so sorry.”
“I am fine Andulmaion. I will be better in just a moment. Come,” she grinned, “We have plans to make and no time to spare. I’ve discovered a way to transport us to the Humans. There is much to do before we leave.” She just hoped that it worked.
By the time Andulmaion had followed her to the library Analindë was seated at the table making a list, the blue bound book at her side. She looked up and waved, beckoning him closer.
“Andulmaion, you worry over much. And although it stings just a little, I’m fine and will recover quickly.” She rubbed her arm in thought, then grinned. “There are things to be done. I need to study the transportation spell a little bit longer; would you mind fetching provisions for us?” She had the steps of the spell committed to memory already, but millions of things could potentially go wrong. She needed time to read the rest of the book and then ponder what she’d learned, looking for holes or misunderstandings that could possibly trip her up.
He sat upon the desk, looking stricken. “Analindë, how can you forgive me so easily? For the all the Stars I’d never hurt you, but yet I let it happen.”
“It was my fault entirely.” She looked up at him. “I foolishly put myself between your weapon and what it wanted.” She paused, then said. “It kind of has a will of its own, doesn’t it? That makes it quite effective and formidable. You should be happy.” He blanched. She set her pen down and leaned forward. “If I were the human, I’d be afraid . . . ” She sat back and looked up at him. It was best to not let him dwell on the situation, so she pushed him toward a different topic of conversation. “Now, what plan of attack do you suggest we take?”
He let himself be pushed. “If you can transport us, then shield the group once we get there. I’ll cast my spell and reinforce your shielding. But as you suggested earlier, we need a warrior who can help us kill the Humans.” He stood abruptly and began to pace.
Could she do it? She wondered, thinking of the transportation spell.
“It’ll take all my strength to control the spell once it gets larger. And you haven’t yet begun to learn offensive spells.”
“Do you know someone that we can trust with this?”
“No one here that I know of.” He stood up to pace the room. “At least none that are good enough, and who also wouldn’t directly turn around and tell the Council of High Mages what we plan to do.” He pressed his fingertips against his temples, then dropped his hands. “I can think of no one, and you?” He stopped his pacing to study her.
“There is one who may help us, but it would require me to use the transportation spell twice. I believe I may be able to do it.” The jumping spell seemed straightforward enough; if she could manage to do it once she could definitely do it a second time. She sat forward in her chair leaning toward him. “In any case we can always rest for awhile before we make the second jump to the fortress.”
“And this person?” Reticence spun in his eyes.
“Arandur. I can guarantee that he’ll listen to us fairly. As to his decision, I know not what he’ll decide. One thing I do know . . . regardless of his decision, he’ll not betray us to any other.”
At Arandur’s name, some of the stars in Andulmaion’s eyes flickered out and dimmed while others brightened. She couldn’t read them before he turned away from her. “So be it. You’re sure you are able to attempt the jump?”
Determined, she said, “Yes. I can get us there; you can stop the wizard, and Arandur and his comrades can kill them.” Despite the sureness of her voice, doubt began to flicker within her. What if they all got stuck in the void?
“We’ll leave within the half hour. Do you know where the scouts are?”
“Yes, but Andulmaion. I was up all night scrying the Humans and your rest couldn’t have been pleasant, considering your vision. Could we perhaps rest here this evening and then start out tomorrow morning? Perhaps even in the afternoon?”
He looked heavenward as he exhaled roughly. “Analindë, I’m so sorry. How could I have forgotten. Of course we must rest here this evening. Let us plan on setting off tomorrow after lunch; that way we both can get a full night’s sleep and have more time to prepare before we depart tomorrow.
“That would work very well for me.”
He continued. “Good. Then recharge your energies from the secret source you’ve found. You’ll need the strength. I’ll be back in a moment.”
He grabbed her list and was halfway down the tower steps before she could come up with a response. He couldn’t know about Mirëdell’s source, could he? But he did know that a source existed somewhere. His ease in mentioning it meant that Master Therin must have told him not to ask . . . either way, it was a good idea.
By the time Andulmaion returned with provisions, Analindë had refilled her energies from the school’s source and was back to studying the blue bound book. The book hummed more loudly now that her energies had been recharged and she wondered if Mirëdell’s source had changed her yet again or if she was more receptive to the flows of Energy because her own source was full. Perhaps it was both.
With urgent tasks at hand, the afternoon and evening passed by quickly. It wasn’t long before Analindë was tucked up in bed, bags packed at the door, with her drifting off to sleep.
Something was wrong. She could feel it in her bones. She thought she heard her mother calling but couldn’t catch her voice. She searched her entire home, the west wing, the workrooms, the garden outside and found nothing.
She was outside; a whirlwind roared at her, ripping trees up and tossing them to the side. A moment later it engulfed her.
Sound howled in her ears; she held her arms up to shelter her head as she ran for the safety of the kitchen. Things flew past her, hitting her, bruising her arms and legs. Scratching her face. Ripping her clothes. Exhausted, she wrestled the kitchen door shut as quiet and calm enveloped her. The wind died down immediately. Trees, tools, and rocks dropped from the sky, thudding when they hit the ground.
And then everything was still.
Too still.
She panted at the door, trying to catch her breath, and peered out through the glass. The garden was a wreck. Father would be upset about the trees. Mother would not be too happy about the garden. Perhaps there was time left in the season to replant.
A harsh buzzing sound erupted from the corner of the kitchen; it hurt her ears. Shocked, she spun around, searching for the source. It was coming from a cupboard. It was grating; she clasped her hands to her ears. Coldness filled the room; her bones ached from the deep chill. Her heart turned leaden.
Against her will, her feet moved toward the other side of the kitchen. She couldn’t stop from treading closer or force herself to move back. Forward one step at a time she moved as the chilling cold enveloped her. Her breath came out in frozen puffs; the stone beneath her feet grew a thick layer of hoary frost, and then the stones themselves began to crumble and fall away. The hairs on her arms stood on end in painful prickles, her neck was stiff. She couldn’t look away. And yet the buzzing continued on, growing ever more ominous the closer she got.
And then she was reaching for the cupboard in the corner of the room, unlatching the door; it swung open. She recoiled. An entire copper sheet covered the interior. Inside she was screaming; she couldn’t stop herself. Her hand reached out to touch the board and painful, crackling Energy zapped up her arm from the copper sheeting.
We’re alive!
The words were hammered into place.
She awoke screaming, and then she was in her bed. And then Andulmaion was there saying soothing sounds, patting her on the back as she cried. She was mortified, absolutely mortified. And shaken. She hadn’t had a dream that vivid in a long while. Laerwen’s tea had obviously stopp
ed working.
And then she was sitting on her couch and Andulmaion was pacing her room. He was unsettled; she couldn’t read the stars in his eyes. She tugged her dressing gown tighter and sipped at the cup of tea he’d foisted on her. It hurt to swallow.
He kept casting her glances that made her uneasy. Questions swirled in his eyes, rightfully so. Perhaps today was not the best day to attempt the jump. But then she thought of the Human wizard; it was dangerous to wait much longer. She watched Andulmaion’s expression change; he straightened up, looking resolved to his course. He’d arrived at some conclusion or another. She prepared to have him question her ability to transport them, trying to think of reasons why she could still do it.
He sat down beside her and took her free hand in his. “Analindë, I think we need to sit down and have a long discussion about these dreams of yours.”
Surprised, she just stared at him. Those were not the words she had been expecting.
“Today we have other things that need doing. But when we get back I would like for you to tell me more about your nightmares.”
She nodded her head, dumbstruck.
He patted her on the hand, then rose. “Okay then, try to get some more rest. Since we’re up, why don’t we leave a little earlier than we planned. How about mid-morning?”
She nodded again. And then he was gone.
Analindë blinked in confusion. What had that been about? She drew in a breath, trying to clear her mind. But then she caught sight of her pack, sitting by the door, all ready to go. And then she found herself thinking about the transportation spell. And then she was fizzing with anticipated excitement; today they were going to try to jump, and later they would find the Humans.
Analindë (The Chronicles of Lóresse) Page 41