“And out into nothing,” she finished, looking bleak. “I’m terrified, Calen.”
“Me, too,” he admitted.
She smacked him on the arm. “Don’t tell me that! Tell me you’re perfectly confident that everything is going to go exactly according to plan!”
He laughed. “Okay, sorry! I am perfectly confident that everything is going to go exactly according to plan.”
“Much better,” she said, laughing a little herself.
That was when Mage Krelig stepped through the door.
“Master!” Calen said. Oh, gods. What was he doing here? Had he heard them talking? Had — had Helena . . . ?
No. He wouldn’t believe that. He scrambled to think of how he might try to explain, to pretend he had misheard them . . . but Krelig didn’t seem interested in what they had been saying. He was holding something in his hands, looking down at it. Calen looked down at it, too.
It was a crow.
“I found this bird,” Krelig said in a strange voice. He looked up at Calen, and his eyes were blank and distant. “Someone has cast a spell on it. A spell that makes it want to find you. Look.” He poked it, a spark of white energy appearing just before the point of contact.
“Calen,” the bird said in Serek’s voice.
“Why would a bird be looking for you, Calen?” Krelig asked. He didn’t even seem to see Helena standing beside him.
“I — I don’t know,” Calen said. He had to stay calm. “Maybe the other mages have been trying to find me? I’m sure they would want to get me away if they thought it would hurt your plans.”
“That’s what I thought, too,” Krelig said. “I thought we would laugh about it together. But then I heard the rest of its message.” He poked the bird again.
Calen listened in horror as the bird confirmed that everything was ready for his return.
“It’s — it’s a trick, Master. I didn’t . . . I don’t know what it’s talking about. . . .”
“I don’t believe you,” Krelig said, still speaking in that odd cadence with no real expression whatsoever. Calen had never heard his voice sound so . . . empty. “This is not the first message the bird has carried. I can’t hear them, but I can tell that there were more. You’ve been communicating with someone. With our enemies.”
Helena was still standing beside him. Calen could grab her hand, but he didn’t think they could make it over the balcony before Krelig stopped them. Stopped them and probably killed them both.
“No, I —”
“Don’t lie to me, Calen.” He looked down at the bird again, and then abruptly snapped its neck and dropped its lifeless body to the floor. When he raised his head again, his eyes were no longer vacant. They were blazing with anger. And pain? “But you’ve been lying. All along. Haven’t you?”
“Master —”
“Stop lying!” Krelig screamed. Calen saw the red energy begin to gather around the man’s hands and without thinking pulled Helena close and threw a shield up around them both. Her face was white and terrified. The spell that came at them was powerful and deadly, but he’d had enough time to prepare, thanks to those few extra seconds of knowing what Krelig was about to cast. The spell shattered against his shield, but the force of it made him stagger back a step. That wasn’t good. He realized that he’d never before attempted to block Krelig when the mage was really trying to hurt him. Not like this.
Krelig started walking toward them, casting new spells with every step. Each one forced Calen and Helena back farther. She added her own magic to his, reinforcing the shield, but it was clear that even together they wouldn’t be able to hold out against him for long.
“We have to run,” Calen whispered.
“We’d never make it,” Helena responded. “Not both of us.”
Another blast shook them, and the shield wavered for a second before Calen got it back under control. “I don’t know what else to do,” he said desperately. “We can’t keep this up. He’s going to break through.”
“I know what to do,” she said calmly. They were both facing forward, eyes locked on Krelig, but Calen felt her reach around for his hand and then, once she had it, squeeze it tightly. “Thank you for trying to take me with you. If you see Mage Avicia, tell her I’d been trying to get back, okay? Tell her I wasn’t a traitor at the end.”
“What are you —?”
She let go of his hand and threw herself at Krelig. He’d gotten close enough that she was able to tackle him before he could react to this unexpected, nonmagical attack, and the two of them went tumbling to the floor.
“Helena, no!”
“Go!” she screamed at him. She was tearing at Krelig’s hair, pounding at him with her fists, but he’d have her off of him in a second, Calen was sure. “Go now! Don’t you dare make this for nothing!”
Krelig pushed her away with a ghastly scream of his own, then started to bring his hands up toward her.
“Calen, go!” she screamed. “Go right now, gods curse you! Go!”
He went.
He turned and ran for the balcony, leaping up onto the table and then the outer wall just as he’d envisioned. Behind him, he heard Helena say something that sounded like, “Oh, no, you don’t,” and then a crash. A burst of red-black energy scorched the air as it shot past, missing his head by inches. He didn’t turn around. He pushed off the wall as hard as he could, sailing forward into the black sky toward the slight shimmer of the barrier. It couldn’t have been more than a second or two before he reached it, but it felt like forever. He had time to wonder why he’d listened, why he’d let her do it. He had time to wish he could go back and try to save her. The voice in his head told him that there was no way to save her. That he had to get back to help the others stop Krelig. That he had a responsibility to survive, and to fight. He had time to tell the voice to shut up.
Then he passed through the barrier, flying and falling, and with a final silent apology to Helena, he cast the transportation spell.
Her dying scream echoed in his ears as he vanished.
MAUREL WAS THE FIRST ONE TO reach them, although Pela was only a few steps behind her.
“Meg!” Maurel shouted, climbing up to poke her head over the edge of the cart, startling some of the wounded soldiers in the process. “Are you okay? They said you almost died!”
“I’m all right,” Meg said, just as Pela reached up and gently but firmly pulled Maurel back down from the side of the cart. Meg saw several medics and assistants approaching behind them. “Who said? How did you —?”
“The soldiers Captain Varyn sent back to bring word of your victory arrived a few days ago,” Pela answered. “They said you’d been badly injured but were expected to recover. They weren’t sure when you would be returning to us, though.”
Meg grimaced. Expected to recover was not the most reassuring phrase; her parents must have been in a panic.
“I’ll be fine,” she said. “Eventually. I should report in. . . .”
“You should go straight to the infirmary,” Pela said. As Meg opened her mouth to object, Pela added, “But I knew that was never going to happen, so I had the physicians set up your room for you as soon as we heard what had happened.”
“Thank you, Pela,” Meg said gratefully. “I — I’ll just need some help getting there.” But Pela had anticipated that as well.
“I sent word as soon as we saw Jakl approaching,” Pela said. She took Maurel’s hand and led her off to the side. “Let’s give Meg and the medics some room.”
Maurel stared as two rather burly assistants carefully helped Meg down from the cart and onto the litter the medics had waiting for her. The rest began helping the other soldiers down from the cart behind her.
“Meg — can’t you walk?”
“Not very well just yet,” Meg said, wincing slightly as they settled her into place. “It’s okay,” she added, seeing Maurel’s stricken expression. “I’ll be able to walk again just fine. My leg just needs a little time to heal.”
“And your arm, too? And your shoulder? And your head?”
Meg had almost forgotten about the bandages still covering the burns on the right side of her head. “Yes,” Meg said. “Don’t worry, okay?”
“Okay,” Maurel said doubtfully. She looked at Meg for a moment, then past her at where Jakl lay resting beyond the cart. “Is Jakl hurt, too?”
Meg smiled. “Jakl is fine,” she said. “He was very brave and helped us win the battle. I’ll tell you all about it later.”
“Time to get you inside, Princess,” one of the medics said.
“Yes,” Meg said wearily. I have to go inside now, she sent to Jakl. I need to rest and let them help me heal. It may be a while before I can come see you, but you know I’ll come as soon as I can.
She felt his grudging acceptance of this information.
Thank you for bringing me home, she added fervently. I don’t know where I would be without you.
He sent back feelings of gladness and safety and protectiveness and love and always, and she nodded and let the medics carry her away.
But instead of heading for the kitchen entrance, which was closest, they took the longer route toward the front courtyard. “Why are we going this way?”
“The king and queen requested that we bring you in through the main hall,” one of the medics responded.
“But why?”
“You’ll see,” one of the assistants said, looking back over his shoulder at her and smiling broadly. And in a moment, she did.
A great crowd of people had gathered in the courtyard. They lined the outer wall and even spilled out through the main gate toward what she could see of the Queen’s Road beyond. Soldiers, servants, refugees from the surrounding countryside . . . and more were arriving as she watched.
“Some of them have been here since yesterday, waiting, even though your parents sent the guards to tell them it might be days before you returned,” Pela said, leaning in close from where she walked beside the slowly moving litter.
As their small procession finished rounding the corner, a cheer went up, which rose in volume and exuberance as it spread through the crowd. The closer they got, the louder it became, until it gradually changed from a wordless series of shouts to a repeated unified chant: “Dragon Princess!”
Meg stared, agape, for several long seconds, then pulled herself forcefully together. She wasn’t feeling quite up to a public appearance in her current physical state, but that didn’t matter one bit, and she knew it. These people had gathered to celebrate their victory, to celebrate the successful campaign of Varyn’s company, to celebrate Meg and her dragon. There was a time when Meg would never have dreamed this possible — this public, joyful recognition of Jakl’s place in the kingdom and undeniable proof that the people of Trelian accepted her fully and freely. More than accepted — they loved her. Clearly they did, the way they were shouting and waving and hugging one another as she went by. She smiled brightly back at them, waving her less-injured arm, ignoring the tenderness of her shoulder, and radiating her own thanks and gratitude. She kept it up the entire length of their slow journey along the narrow inner road and up to the entrance to the main hall, where she saw her parents waiting at the top of the stairs.
Her mother’s eyes widened at the sight of her dirty, damaged daughter being carried toward her like an overcooked pheasant on a plate, but she quickly hid her dismay and flashed her own bright smile. Her father was doing the same. The people continued their enthusiastic chanting until the medics and their assistants had managed to get her all the way up the stairs and through the doors. Meg gave her admirers one last wave and blew them a kiss, and then some blessed person closed the doors and she let her hand drop, exhausted, to her side.
“Please, set me down for a minute,” Meg asked her carriers.
They complied as her parents rushed over and Maurel struggled free of Pela’s hand to crowd in close beside them.
“We’re so glad you’re home safe,” her mother said, touching her good shoulder gently. “And very proud of you.”
“Yes,” her father agreed. “Well done, Meg. Well done, indeed.”
“Thank you,” she said. She cast a glance back at the closed doors. “I see that everyone has already heard all about the battle.”
“Yes,” her mother said. “Varyn’s riders couldn’t keep the story to themselves, and we didn’t see why they should try. These people needed something to celebrate, by the gods. And what we heard certainly sounded worth celebrating.”
Meg couldn’t help feeling pleased by her mother’s words. “I’m glad I could help them there. But I didn’t do it alone, you know. Captain Varyn and the others did most of the fighting. And Jakl was magnificent.”
The king nodded. “So we’ve been told. We’ve also been told that he saved your life. Please give him our very sincere thanks for taking such good care of you.”
“You should go thank him yourself,” Meg said. “I think he’d like that.”
The king looked startled, but after a moment nodded his acquiescence. The queen looked equal parts alarmed and amused at the idea.
They insisted that she could tell them the rest in a little while, and the medics resumed their forward progress. When they reached her room, she saw immediately the adjustments Pela and the castle physicians had prepared. There was a small but high table brought close to the side of the bed, bearing a stack of books and a tray containing a pitcher of water and a glass. The books appeared to be romantic stories of the kind that Pela loved to read — these were probably her own copies. Meg smiled at her lady-in-waiting, touched. There were also baskets of what looked like medical supplies on another table, and another medic standing at attention, wearing that same no-nonsense expression that seemed to be a requirement for the profession. This woman watched closely as the others gently helped Meg onto her bed, which had been covered by a thick sheet. Then she waved them away.
“You too, young Princess,” she said to Maurel, who pouted but allowed herself to be sent away once Meg promised that she could come back later, after Meg had had a chance to rest a little. The medic didn’t attempt to send Pela away; Meg suspected that had been negotiated by Pela in advance.
The medic then carefully unwrapped Meg’s bandages and examined her injuries, and gave her a somewhat embarrassing but very welcome washing with hot water and soap and a series of wet cloths. After gently patting Meg’s skin dry again, she applied some thick salve to her burned shoulder and ear and some other kind of medicine to the wound on her thigh. “We’ll send Mage Serek to see you shortly,” she said, “in case there’s anything he can do to help. But these look very well; I believe all will continue to heal nicely, Your Highness.” Then she gave Meg a significant look. “Assuming you rest as you are supposed to.”
“She will,” Pela said at once. “I’ll see to it, Medic Sadie.”
The medic bustled about a bit longer, redressing Meg’s shoulder and leg, helping Meg into a fresh nightgown, and giving Pela some final instructions before heading out. Meg was glad; she really did want to rest. The top sheet had apparently been to protect the bedding from at least some of Meg’s layers of dust and dirt; it had since been removed, and she was now nestled comfortably under the blankets. Her bed felt like heaven. And she still felt so weak. Even just being carried into the castle had completely worn her out. But first . . .
She gripped Pela’s arm as soon as the medic was gone. “Tell me what’s been happening. Has Calen —?”
Pela shook her head. “Not yet. Soon, I believe. I’ll tell you everything I know later, after you rest. We’ll have some lunch brought up for you, and we can talk while you eat.”
“No,” Meg tried to argue. “I want to know now. Pela —”
“Truly, Princess. There is nothing so urgent that you cannot rest first. Just for a while.”
Meg felt her eyelids drooping and suspected this was not a fight she could win. All Pela had to do was wait her out, anyway. She was desperately tired.
&
nbsp; “All right,” Meg said finally. “Just a little sleep.” She could barely get the last words out before she felt herself drifting away.
She woke to the sound of Pela quietly arguing with Maurel in the doorway.
“It’s all right, Pela. I’m awake.” By the position of the sun, she’d slept plenty long enough for now. And she did feel a good deal better than she had when she’d arrived. There was still pain, but it was tolerable. And she couldn’t sleep forever.
Maurel took that as permission and pushed past Pela, bouncing toward the bed. She remembered just in time that Meg was injured and merely sat on the bed rather than jumping onto it. She gave the side of Meg’s head, now free of bandages, a long look, but didn’t say anything. Meg hoped that her scorched ear didn’t look too frightening. She had assumed it was mostly healed, since the medic had left it uncovered.
“So. What has been happening while I was gone?” Meg asked, smiling for her sister and raising herself gingerly up against the pillows. Pela was there in an instant, fluffing and arranging them to just the right position behind her.
“Nothing, really,” Maurel said. “Mostly we were all just wondering about you. But then the riders came saying that Lourin had lost the pass and you and Jakl were heroes and the Kragnir soldiers were on their way now and everyone was glad, except that also they said you were hurt, but that you would probably be okay. But they also said it would be a while before you came home, but then you came home the next day.”
“I wasn’t supposed to let Jakl take me home,” Meg said, “but then everyone decided it would be okay after all. But I’m not allowed to ride him anymore until I’m all healed up. I can’t even go and see him for at least the next few days. Would you go and visit him for me sometimes? I don’t want him to get lonely.”
“Sure!” Maurel said. “I like him. I’ll bring Lyrimon with me so they can be friends, too.”
Meg wasn’t so sure how well that would go, but decided to let Maurel work that out for herself.
Maurel stayed a bit longer, filling in Meg on what she’d been studying and what terrible injustices she had suffered at the hands of Nan Vera, and then the servants arrived with some food, and Pela suggested that Maurel should go now and let Meg eat. Maurel left willingly enough, saying maybe she’d go see how Jakl was doing.
The Mage of Trelian Page 16