“But why?” Arelnath asked again.
“Did I not say that the priests of Chaldon are servants of Shadow?” Mist said. “In some way, the Temple of the Third Moon is a danger to the Shadow-born, a danger it seeks to remove before it is damaged.” As she spoke, Mist’s hand rose to touch the white stone she wore.
“What’s a Shadow-born?” Shandy asked.
“The Shadow-born are ancient beings, spirits of a sort,” Mist replied. “They remember old ways of magic, things we have forgotten. They have no physical form of their own; instead, they take over the bodies of others for a time.”
“For a time?” Ranira said.
“A body possessed by a Shadow-born gradually fades into shadow itself. They caused great suffering when they went freely among men, but three thousand years ago the last of them were bound during the great wars.”
Ranira shuddered. “You mean there are other gods like Chaldon? One is bad enough.”
“They are not gods,” Mist said firmly. “Once they may even have been men; no one knows their origins now. Yes, there are others. Most of them were bound in the north, near Alkyra, during the Wars of Binding. But your Chaldon is more dangerous than most.”
“Why?” asked Arelnath. “I have never heard that the powers of Shadow-born vary greatly from one to another. What makes Chaldon more dangerous than those others?”
“Chaldon has willing servants,” Mist said. “For centuries the Temple priests have kept him strong with their sacrifices. The Shadow-born of the north are not so fortunate; they were weakened greatly during their long captivity. In addition, it is rumored that the new Queen of Alkyra has found the four Gifts that were used during the Wars to bind the Shadow-born. If they escape the bonds that have held them this long, the Queen can restrain them with such weapons in her possession.”
Arelnath nodded, but Ranira was by no means convinced. She found it difficult to believe that anything resembling Chaldon could be defeated as effortlessly as Mist made it sound. Not that it mattered; Chaldon and his priests were what they would have to deal with. Shandy’s incredulous voice broke in on Ranira’s thoughts.
“They let a woman rule a whole country?” the boy said. Mist nodded, amused. “We aren’t going anywhere near there, are we?” he went on suspiciously.
“No,” Mist replied. “The Island of the Moon is east and south; Alkyra is north of the Melyranne Sea.”
“Good,” Shandy said in relief. “I’m not going to any woman’s country. And those other things don’t sound very nice either.”
The corners of Mist’s mouth twitched. Before she could reply, Arelnath frowned and asked, “How can the Temple of the Third Moon be a threat to a Shadow-born? The Island of the Moon is a place of magic and learning, but I do not think that you could defeat Chaldon with knowledge alone.”
“Perhaps it fears we will bring the Gifts from Alkyra to use against it,” Mist said with a shrug. “Or perhaps there is some way to use the Third Moon itself to harm it. I am no scholar on the subject of Shadow-born; there are others at the Temple who will know, if I can only reach them.”
Arelnath frowned again. “How can the Temple of Chaldon reach the island to attack? Magic is far more difficult over distances. Are you sure they are a real threat?”
“For an individual, it would be impossible to harm the island from this distance,” Mist agreed. “But you have seen the sendings they have used against us. Can you doubt their power? It will take all my strength and skill to send a simple speaking-spell to the island to warn them; the Temple of Chaldon, however, will not rely on a single sorcerer. You yourself suggested that Ranira loan me her power; you know how a group of people can be joined to provide more power than any one person could produce alone. That is how the Temple of Chaldon will work its spell.”
“I have seen nine or ten people linked like that,” Arelnath admitted. “But it would take more than that to channel such power!”
“The Temple of Chaldon is not limited to ten,” Mist said reluctantly. “Somehow the priests of Chaldon have found a way to simultaneously tap the power of everyone in the city, whether they are trained or not. I do not know how they are able to coordinate so large a group, but they do. That is how they reached us in the river outside Drinn. If they had known exactly where to aim their blast, we would all be dead.”
“The new Temple rites!” Ranira exclaimed suddenly. Mist turned to her. Arelnath’s head came around more reluctantly.
“What do you mean?” Mist asked.
“That must be why there were no people on the streets except Temple guards and Watchmen. Everyone was at the Temple! That is how the priests can use all the people of Drinn at once—they have made it part of the ritual this year. Everyone has to participate during Midwinter Festival if they are in Drinn, and there are always changes in the rites. Even if someone suspected, no one would dare to question the Temple.”
“I think you are right,” Mist said thoughtfully. “I do not know any other way it could be done.”
“But that much power would burn out whoever was the focus,” Arelnath objected. “Surely the Temple of Chaldon cannot waste trained sorcerers so freely.”
“The power would certainly destroy a human being,” Mist replied gravely. “A Shadow-born, however, would have no such difficulty. The priests will focus their power through Chaldon. Unwarned, the Temple of the Third Moon has no chance of resisting.”
Silence followed Mist’s words. At last Arelnath looked up. “I will help you if I can, “she said. She hesitated. “How soon do you wish to try? I would like to build a fire. Now that it is day, we are not so likely to be seen and it will make all of us more comfortable.” She looked in Jaren’s direction as she spoke.
“I will be glad of your help,” Mist said. Her eyes followed Arelnath’s. “But make the fire first. It will take me a little time to prepare, and it will certainly be easier to concentrate if I am warmer.”
Shandy sneezed, and in spite of herself, Ranira laughed. Between the nightmare and the conversation she had not noticed how cold she was, but now she realized that she was shivering and that her fingers were almost too stiff to move. “Can I help?” she asked timidly.
Mist looked at her in surprise. “I would appreciate whatever assistance you can give,” she said. “But are you certain?”
“I—I didn’t mean that!” Ranira stammered, reddening. “I mean with the fire. It’s not that I don’t want to help with your spells,” she went on in a rush, trying to keep the hurt from Mist’s face. “But whenever I even think about magic, the flames…” She stopped short, appalled by the extent of her self-revelation. Why, she had as good as told Mist that she was willing to become a witch!
“I have heard of such barriers before,” Mist said, looking thoughtfully at Ranira. “Sometimes they can be removed. I cannot do anything until I have contacted my home, but after that I may be able to help you, if you are still willing.”
Ranira looked blankly at the other woman. “I can’t.”
“I will not press you,” Mist said, looking disappointed. “But tell me if you should change your mind.” The healer turned away to talk to Arelnath, leaving Ranira feeling very much like a traitor. ‘I can’t,’ she thought defensively. ‘How can she ask it of me?’ But even in her own mind the words rang false. After all, she had never actually been hurt by her imaginary flames. She began to feel childish as well as guilty.
Ranira looked toward Mist, and her hand rose in a habitual gesture to finger the hem of her veil. When she realized what she was doing, she jerked her hand away as if it had been burned. Neither Mist nor Arelnath wore veils, and she was beginning to feel self-conscious about continuing to wear one herself. Yet she did not feel comfortable without it. She pushed the problem to the back of her mind and walked toward the warmth of the tiny blaze that Arelnath was just beginning to coax out of the firewood.
CHAPTER
THIRTEEN
Mist and Arelnath sat on the ground near the fire. Arelnat
h had made a bed of leaves to insulate Jaren from the cold ground of the little wood, and as soon as the fire caught, she turned to adjust the pile so that Jaren could have the full benefit of the warmth without danger of the leaves catching fire. She had also, Ranira noted, wrapped Jaren’s injured leg in one of the heavy brown pilgrim’s robes. Beside Ranira, Mist carefully fed small branches into the slowly growing blaze.
“Now, if we only had something to eat,” Ranira said as she stretched her hands toward the warmth.
“There are other things to think of first,” Arelnath said shortly, turning back toward the fire. She moved to one side, so that her body did not keep the heat from reaching Jaren, and looked up. “I am ready, Mist.”
“Then we had best begin at once,” Mist said. She dropped the last of the branches onto the fire and glanced at Ranira, but did not speak again. Arelnath nodded and extended a hand toward the healer.
Almost reluctantly, Mist grasped the proffered hand in one of her own. Her free hand rose and folded itself about the white stone on her breast, then clenched until the knuckles whitened. Mist bowed her head and began the low, murmuring chant that had accompanied all of her spell-casting. This time, Ranira tried to listen more closely. Though the language was unfamiliar, she thought she could sense a searching note in the rise and fall of Mist’s voice.
The enchantress’ head bent lower, as if she strained to carry some heavy burden. Arelnath sat straight, but her eyes were unfocused and the lines of strain in her face seemed to deepen even as Ranira watched. The murmuring went on and on, but now the sound seemed to intensify, as if it could cover the distance to the island by sheer force. Ranira was tempted to cover her ears, but some streak of pride kept her hands at her sides.
Abruptly, the chanting stopped. Mist’s hands released Arelnath and the stone, only to bury themselves in her own thick black hair. Arelnath sighed and massaged her temples as she looked at Mist. “So, we have exhausted our strength for nothing,” the Cilhar woman said.
“You did not succeed?” Ranira asked.
“No,” Arelnath said.
“Why?” Ranira asked when no more explanation was forthcoming. “Can’t you try again?”
Mist sighed and raised her head. “The priests of Chaldon have raised a barrier about the Empire of Chaldreth that I could not break, even with Arelnath’s help. I cannot try again until we have rested and our strength is restored. I doubt I will have the time for that.”
“Why?” Ranira asked again. “There are still three days before the Night of Two Moons. Isn’t that enough time?”
“The Temple of Chaldon is preparing to deal with us,” Mist replied. “They must suspect that I, at least, am from the Island of the Moon, or they would not have raised the barrier. If they had been better prepared, we would have died in the river last night. They will certainly strike again, and this time they will not miss.”
Silence followed Mist’s words. “Won’t your people notice the barrier?” Ranira offered at last. “Maybe they could break it from outside.”
Mist raised her head, and an expression of hope flashed across her face. Then she shook her head. “They will notice, and they will worry, but they will not try to force a way through it until it is too late. They know little of the Empire of Chaldreth, remember; they will not wish to act openly against it without provocation.”
“At least the Temple of Chaldon is not likely to find us soon,” Arelnath said. “Even a Shadow-born cannot barricade the entire Empire and still hunt for us.”
“It will not have to,” Mist said. “Each night the Temple priests will be more practiced in linking the people of Drinn so that Chaldon can use their power. Soon the Shadow-born will have strength, and to spare.”
“Even with the extra power, it will still take them time to find us,” Arelnath said a little less confidently. “They cannot strike without knowing where we are.”
“They did last night,” Mist pointed out. “Chaldon spread his power over a wide stretch of land to be sure of reaching us, and even though the blast was stretched thin, it was painful for you. You know the effect it had on me. Tonight he will be stronger. You may survive another such random blow, but I do not think I can.”
Arelnath looked at the other woman in dismay. “Distance would weaken the spell, would it not? Can we get far enough in a day to make a difference?”
“Without food, and with Jaren ill?” Mist said. “I doubt it. If Chaldon could not refresh his power every night, then perhaps—or if I had a source of power to equal his. But we are tired, and I am too drained to fight. Indeed, I am too drained even to heal—and for nothing,” she finished with a touch of bitterness.
“If you cannot fight, can you hide?” Ranira asked.
Arelnath snorted. “Bushes and holes are no good as protection against magic.”
Ranira turned to Mist and forced herself to speak through lips that had gone suddenly stiff. “You said I had as much power as Arelnath, but when that spell or blast or whatever it was hit us last night, it hurt Arelnath more than it did me. Why?”
“The spell was aimed at people who work magic,” Arelnath said impatiently, before Mist could reply.
“If it was just power, it wouldn’t have hurt you any worse than it did me,” Ranira insisted. “It has to have something to do with the training you have.” Mist nodded, and, encouraged, Ranira went on. “Couldn’t you try to, well, forget some of the training? So the spell would not be able to hurt you as much?”
“Forget in a few hours what it takes years to learn? Deliberately?” Arelnath said scornfully. “You do not know what you are asking. I might be able to do it, but Mist has been trained until it is almost a reflex. It would take months to do what you suggest.”
“Not necessarily,” said Mist in a thoughtful tone. “I cannot wipe my knowledge from my mind, but perhaps I can disguise it.” She looked at Ranira. “I will need your help, and it may be dangerous for you. There will be magic involved as well; I cannot deceive you about that. Are you willing to try?”
Ranira frowned and moved further away from the fire. “I won’t have to do any spells myself, will I?”
“No, I will do what is necessary,” Mist assured her. “It will be like the spell I used in order to find and remove the Temple buildings, only this time I will be trying to make myself as much like you as I can.”
“Like me?” Ranira said incredulously. “Why?”
“It is the quickest and easiest way to hide my experience,” Mist said, smiling. “I only hope it will work.”
“Even if you are going to try this ‘hiding,’ we should still get as far away from Drinn as possible,” said Arelnath. “I don’t like the idea of being hit by a spell stronger than the last one, and I cannot use your method of avoiding it.”
“Why not?” Ranira asked. “You helped Mist try to contact her people. Why can’t you join her in this as well?”
“Linking too many people would make us more noticeable, not less,” Mist said. “The Temple spell would hit us harder, and we might all be killed. Arelnath is right; we must go on as far as we can.”
“But Jaren cannot walk far!” Ranira said, appalled. “He almost didn’t make it to the woods last night. How can we keep going?”
“I can walk as far as I have to,” a somewhat slurred voice said behind them. Ranira and the others turned to see Jaren trying to haul himself upright. Arelnath hurried over to him and shoved him back into a prone position.
“You are not going to try walking anywhere yet,” she said. “And you aren’t going to walk at all if I can stop you. Ranira was right—it only makes the poison work more quickly, and it isn’t necessary.”
Jaren did not object to this summary statement; his brief effort appeared to have tired him. Mist frowned. “If Jaren cannot walk, how are we to carry him?”
Arelnath smiled. She rose and walked to the place where the awkward hammock was lying. “This is what we used to bring you here,” she said, picking up one end and displaying it
to Mist. She ignored Jaren’s groan and went on, “If I stretch it a little, it will do for Jaren as well.”
“No wonder I feel so sore,” Mist said, studying the odd-looking contraption. “I think we can make a better litter if you or Shandy can find a couple of long sticks to use as poles. It will be far more comfortable, and easier to carry as well.”
“Where is Shandy?” Ranira asked, looking around. There was no sign of the boy, and no one could remember seeing him since Arelnath started building the fire. Accustomed though she was to the urchin’s abrupt appearances and disappearances, Ranira began to feel worried. Like herself, Shandy had lived in Drinn all his life; his city-tested wiles might not serve him as well in a field or forest.
“We can’t look for him now,” Arelnath said. “There isn’t time.”
“But what if the Templemen have followed us?” Ranira said anxiously.
“If Shandy has been caught by Temple guards, we have even less time to stand around worrying,” Arelnath snapped. She was already threading her way through the bushes in search of suitable branches for the litter.
Ranira glared after her. She knew Arelnath was right, but she resented it. Mist’s quiet voice interrupted her angry thoughts. “Making a litter will take time. If Shandy has not returned by the time we finish, we can look for him then. But I do not think we will need to; he is a resourceful boy.”
Ranira nodded without turning. Mist was right; she was probably worrying needlessly. Still, she was offended by Arelnath’s attitude toward her friend. Resentment, however, was a poor reason to avoid her share of the work. With a sigh, she started after Arelnath.
She found the Cilhar woman at the edge of the woods, near two slender saplings. The trees were barely three fingers wide—just right for the poles of a litter. Arelnath and Ranira each set to work on one of the trees. With only the Temple daggers to use, it took some time to cut them down, but Arelnath persisted. “Green wood is better than dry for a litter,” she explained as she stripped the two trees of their branches. “It is more flexible, and not so likely to break.”
[Lyra 02] - Daughter of Witches Page 12