[Lyra 02] - Daughter of Witches

by Patricia C. Wrede - (ebook by Undead)

  Shandy was beside her. “Renra, did it work? Are you all right? I know it’s magic, but I couldn’t think of anything else!”

  Ranira had no time to reassure him. Just as she looked up, light flared through the clearing. She squinted an instant too late; her eyes were blinded by a dazzling brightness that seemed crowded with faces. As her eyes adjusted, her fingers tightened involuntarily on the moonstone.

  In front of her, barely three paces away, a black smudge stood outlined against the brightness. It was hardly recognizable as Gadrath. Darkness swirled around it, making it impossible for her to see the details of his form. She sucked her breath in and shoved Shandy behind her, holding out the moonstone.

  Light shifted and flowed in front of her. Mist stood at the center of the glow, her garments whipping about her as if she stood in a strong wind. The healer raised her hands, and figures began to form around her, faint outlines sketched in white flame. They wavered and grew brighter as Ranira watched, and the light intensified until Mist stood at the center of a ring of white fire, forcing the shadow backward. Ranira’s eyes met Mist’s, and suddenly she understood: Mist had reached the Island of the Moon at last; the flaming shapes could only be images of the people Mist had been trying to contact for so long.

  The shadowy horror that was Gadrath gestured, and a wall of blackness swept toward Mist. Lightning flared from Mist’s outstretched hand. The blackness dissolved into a whirling mass of shadow shot with light and webbed with power, hovering in the air between the healer and the priest. Ranira’s skin began to tingle. She backed up a pace.

  A pale green light washed over the clearing: Elewyth had risen. The shadow withdrew into itself, forming a tall, dense pillar of darkness. Mist moved toward it, almost reluctantly, and Ranira remembered the healer’s aversion to killing.

  More lightning flashed around the shadow, without apparent effect. It seemed to be waiting, content to resist without striking back. Ranira stared in puzzlement as Mist struck again. Why should the shade wait? Abruptly, Gadrath’s voice came back to her, and her eyes widened in horror.

  The Temple of Chaldon! Gadrath had left someone behind to conduct the rituals, and one of the rituals was designed to join the power of all of the people of Drinn and channel it through the Shadow-born to destroy the Island of the Moon. That was what the shadow waited for. Ranira had no doubt that it was already too strong for the Temple priests to control; whatever power it could draw from Drinn it would use for its own purposes.

  Ranira opened her mouth to shout, but it was already too late. Red light bloomed in the clearing as Kaldarin rose, and she remembered that Mist had said Kaldarin strengthened the Shadow-born. The shadow swelled under the crimson glow; even Ranira could feel the surge of power. Mist fell back. The flaming shapes around her vanished. Darkness flowed out from the shadow, engulfing Ranira once more.

  Cruel laughter echoed around her. Her eyes strained against the darkness. She put out a hand, but there was nothing to touch or see. An odor of decay reached her, something foul brushed her hand, and she recoiled from its touch. Something sucked at her mind. Terrified, Ranira pulled away. The suction grew stronger.

  In desperation, she called on the magic she knew she possessed. She felt new strength rise within her and the warmth that heralded the beginning of the flames. Better to burn than be eaten, she thought fleetingly, and concentrated harder.

  “That won’t save you, little fool,” a deep voice hissed near her ear. “You will come to me in the end, like the rest of Drinn, and your friends as well. Indeed, you are already half mine. Tell me, should I take the boy first, or the black-haired witch?”

  Anger exploded in Ranira. Flames roared around her, but she did not care. She struck at the darkness with all the power she possessed. The only response was scornful laughter as the darkness pressed closer. In utter fury, she grasped at the flames around her and threw them at the shadow. She felt the thing draw back. With a surge of triumph, she seized more of the magic fire and threw it, drawing recklessly on her power.

  For what seemed an eternity, Ranira hurled her fire into darkness. In her desire to hurt the shadow, she ignored her own pain. She was too angry to be afraid.

  Then the flames began to die. Soon they were a mere flickering around her. The darkness began to close in on her again.

  She tried desperately to call up her power again, to bring back the flames that were her only weapon, but nothing happened; her strength and her resources were all but exhausted. Then, as the shadow came closer, she remembered that she still held the moonstone, and she extended it like a shield between herself and the darkness.

  Power coiled within the stone. Thanks to her new sensitivity to magic, Ranira could feel it. She reached for it as she had reached for the flames, but it eluded her. The last of her own fire died. She clenched her fingers around the stone, willing it to do something—anything. Sudden power flowed into her, and with a gasp of relief she struck out at the shadows once more.

  The darkness drew back, but even as she struck, Ranira knew that she still did not have enough strength to seriously harm the dark thing. She lacked the skill and the knowledge necessary to use the power of the moonstone effectively. She could hold the shadow back for a little, that was all.

  Abruptly, the shadow struck back. The blow drove her to her knees. It took all her power to keep from being swallowed at once. The pressure increased. Ranira was forced back, into herself, fighting all the while to maintain her precarious link to the power of the moonstone. She felt, rather than heard, the shadow’s laughter, and she strained to draw more power from the moonstone. The bond between her and the stone was not strong enough to carry the power she needed. Desperately, she tried to widen the channel, to use all of the power of the moonstone.

  There was a moment of swift disorientation, then Ranira’s head cleared. Power ran through her like a high wind, clean and strong. It was too much for her to hold or control. It spilled out of her, blowing away the last traces of her fear of magic and driving the shadow back. She was briefly conscious of a large, pillared room, and an immense white stone that shimmered with power, and a damp smell of salt. Then she was back in the clearing, the darkness retreating in front of her.

  Ranira began shaping her power for another blow at the shadow, then paused. She could see Mist standing at the edge of the darkness. The flaming outlines of the island witches were forming around the healer once more. Ranira felt more power spilling out of herself, and still she hesitated.

  The shadow ceased its retreat. It hung in the air, growing darker and denser as Ranira watched. Light pulsed around it as Mist renewed her attack, but nothing seemed to harm it. Ranira’s skin began to tingle again. She felt something pulling at her weakly and unpleasantly, groping for power. The sensation was vaguely familiar. Suddenly she realized what was happening: The Temple rites were still in progress in Drinn, and the shadow was drawing on them to replenish its power. Mist and the fiery shapes around her could barely hold it now; they would be utterly unable to contain it once its strength was renewed. Ranira thought of trying to join them, but even as she did, Arelnath’s voice echoed in her mind. “That much power would burn out whoever was the focus.” With no knowledge of magic, how could she guess what effect her impulse might have on Mist? And if Mist were destroyed, who could fight the shadow?

  Ranira felt the tugging again, and recoiled in disgust. Somehow, she was still open to the command of the rituals, even though Mist had removed the Temple bindings from her mind. She could sense the power feeding the shadow in front of her, and knew that soon it would be ready to attack again. If she wished, she knew she could join the people of Drinn. The idea shamed her, but it would not go away. Her eyesight blurred, and once again she saw the room and the white stone, and felt the shadow draw back from the barest touch of the power she held.

  The vision faded. Her eyes came back into focus just as the shadow began to move again. Ranira had an instant to wonder if her idea would work; then she took a
deep breath, shuddered, and gave in to the insistent tugging of the mass of power that was the union of the people of Drinn.

  Greedy fingers twisted into her mind, searching. The power that flowed around her was blotted up and whirled away. The fingers probed more deeply, seeking more power for the insatiable darkness behind them. Ranira felt as if she were being pulled apart. A confused jumble of images flashed before her: the Temple of Chaldon towering in smoky torchlight; Mist and seven white-robed strangers facing a shadowy form; the white stone shining with a blinding silver light.

  The image of the stone grew and brightened, absorbing the other pictures. Power howled through Ranira, clean and silver-bright and fresh as sea wind. It flooded the channel that fed the shadow. She saw a brief picture of a thousand faces looking at each other in wonder, the Temple rituals forgotten. In the same breath, she heard an unearthly scream of agony, and the fusion was smashed into a thousand pieces.

  Something huge and dark rushed past Ranira, pursued by shining forms. One of them reached out to her, and once again power swept through her. An image of darkness surrounded by a web of pale blue light rose before her. She saw the shadow withdraw into the heart of it. She heard a shout of triumph from the pursuers and felt power run through her, feeding the web of light until it shone bright silver instead of blue. Then the vision faded, and the shining forms vanished, and the power itself died, and the darkness around her was only night.

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Ranira heaved a shaky sigh and looked around. Gadrath’s body lay in front of her, crumpled and shrunken. She could see no trace of the crystal pendant the High Priest had worn. Beside the body stood Mist; the light and the flaming figures had vanished from around her, and she stood with her head bowed, one hand groping for the necklace she was not wearing. Ranira stepped forward and held out the moonstone.

  The healer did not look up. “Mist?”

  Finally Mist’s head turned. The expression of sadness and regret on her face lightened as she saw the white stone. “Thank you,” she said as she hung it around her neck once more. Her eyes returned to Gadrath’s body.

  “Stop thinking about him, Mist.” Arelnath’s voice came out of the darkness behind Ranira. “His death was necessary, and from what I saw of him, he isn’t worth your grief.”

  “I know,” Mist said quietly. “He was corrupt, and he would have spread his corruption like a disease. Even without the Shadow-born to consider, he is better dead. But no one deserves such a death as that.”

  “Such a death as what?” Arelnath asked. She stepped forward and stooped to examine the body as she spoke. “Didn’t you kill him in the fight?”

  Mist shook her head. “The Shadow-born took him. To be possessed by a Shadow-born is to dwindle into nothingness. I think the shadow has been eating at him for years, or he would not look so shrunken.”

  “As long as the Shadow-born is dead as well, it does not worry me,” Arelnath said. She looked up when Mist did not reply, then rose abruptly to her feet. “The Shadow-born is dead, isn’t he?”

  “How can something die that has no body? But be content; it is safely bound once more. Even if the Temple of Chaldon continues its rituals, I do not think Chaldon will be powerful enough to work any harm for a long time.”

  “Why not?” Arelnath asked skeptically.

  “It has been too badly hurt,” Mist replied. “Even if it can still draw strength from the Temple rituals, the Shadow-born will take a long time to regain its strength. Also, we were able to strengthen the old binding-spell when the Shadow-born fled back to it. It was still partly bound, you see, so the only way it could escape was to retreat into the spell to hide.”

  “If that was a partly bound Shadow-born, I hope I never meet one that’s free,” Jaren said from the darkness behind Arelnath. He limped forward. “Is there any reason why you are standing here in the cold, when there is a perfectly good fire a few steps away?”

  Mist gave him a bewildered look. Arelnath laughed. “You’re right. Come, Mist. It will do you good.”

  “But aren’t there still Templemen around?” Ranira asked.

  Jaren grinned. “Do you think we were idle while Mist was busy with her spells? They will not be back, or else they will never leave.” He waved a hand toward five crumpled lumps near the edge of the clearing, barely visible in the firelight.

  Ranira looked from Jaren to Arelnath in awe. “You killed five Temple guards? You didn’t even have weapons!”

  Arelnath shrugged. “We are trained for such things. And two of them were already wounded.”

  “Besides, they were more afraid of the sorcery behind them than they were of us,” Jaren said. He smiled. “It is a common mistake, but it ruined their concentration. We were finished with them long before you were done with the priest.” He gestured toward Gadrath’s body. “Now, shall we get warm?” He started toward the fire; Mist and Arelnath followed. Shandy appeared out of the night and seated himself next to them, but Ranira stayed where she was, looking down at Gadrath’s body.

  Suddenly, she felt exhausted, though a moment before she had not been tired at all. The battle had driven home the truths she had been trying not to face. She was a witch. Her power had helped to bring down the Shadow-born, and she could not be sorry. Her fear of magic was gone, but it had left only emptiness behind… What was she going to do now?

  Ranira turned away and walked slowly to the fire. Arelnath motioned her to an open place across from Mist. Ranira collapsed gratefully to the ground. Jaren smiled and stretched his legs toward the fire.

  “Now, Mist,” he said. “What exactly were you doing while Arelnath and I were killing Templemen?”

  Mist winced. “Must you be so casual about it?”

  “They were trying to kill me. Don’t expect me to grieve for them.” After a moment, the healer nodded and Jaren went on, “Now, about this Shadow-born. How did you manage to kill it or bind it or whatever you did to it?”

  Mist shook her head. “It is difficult to explain,” she said. “The power of the Third Moon is so opposed to the power of a Shadow-born that even in small amounts it is painful for a Shadow-born to come in contact with it. My necklace was not large, but when Shandy threw it at Ranira, the shock made the Shadow-born lose its hold on her—and on the barrier around the Empire of Chaldreth. Once the barrier was down, I was able to reach the Temple of the Third Moon.” Mist smiled at Shandy. “I think that throw saved more than Ranira from Chaldon.”

  Shandy shifted uncomfortably, but did not speak. Arelnath frowned. “Ranira used the moonstone against the Shadow-born? I thought that required training. Ranira must have even more ability than we had suspected.”

  Ranira looked up from the fire. “I was desperate,” she said. “If Chaldon hadn’t pushed me so hard, I would never even have tried to use the moonstone. I was too scared to worry about whether I was doing the right thing or not.”

  Mist smiled. “The Shadow-born knew that you come from Drinn. It did not expect you to be able to do anything with the moonstone. It was more afraid that you would throw it to me so the rest of the Temple of the Third Moon could work through it. It was a shock to Chaldon when you began to use the stone.”

  “But Ranira has used the moonstone before, I think,” Arelnath put in. She turned toward Ranira. “You found it in your hand after the Temple of Chaldon attacked the second time, when the High Priest died. Remember?”

  Mist looked at Arelnath in surprise. “I had not thought of that, but you may be right.” She glanced thoughtfully at Ranira. “We must discuss this more later on.”

  Ranira nodded without much enthusiasm. She was trying to accept the implications of Mist’s words. “You mean I could have given you the moonstone, and you could have used it against Chaldon?” she said finally. “I didn’t even think of that!”

  “It is as well that you did not,” Mist said. “I could have used the power of the moonstone, but not as you did. The stone would have been an advantage, but the batt
le would have been long and the outcome uncertain.”

  “Why?” asked Ranira. “You know more about magic than I do.”

  “No one on the Island of the Moon could have touched the Shadow-born directly; he was guarding too closely against us. You are of Drinn; there is still a bond between you and the Temple of Chaldon. You fed the power of the Third Moon into the Temple rituals, and the Shadow-born was drawing so heavily on them for power that it took in the full power of the Third Moon before it even realized what was happening. The Shadow-born had to break its link with Drinn to avoid being hurt even more, and it was weakened enough that we could force it back into the binding.”

  “I don’t want the Temple of Chaldon to be able to do things to me!” Ranira said. “I don’t want to be a part of their rituals, even if it turned out well this time.”

  “Understandable,” Jaren said dryly. He looked at Mist. “Is it likely to be a problem?”

  Mist shook her head. “No. The Temple of Chaldon will be in no condition to perform rituals for days, possibly longer. By that time, we should be out of the Empire of Chaldreth and beyond the reach of any magic they can cast now that Chaldon is bound once more.”

  “What do you mean, the Temple is in no condition for rituals?” Arelnath demanded.

  “When the power of the Third Moon hit the Shadow-born, the priests in the Temple felt its pain as much as it did. I would be surprised if any of them will be well enough to return to their rituals for several days.”

  “And the Temple guards…?” Jaren asked in an odd voice.

  “…will be in the same condition, I think,” Mist said. “The more involved they were with the Temple of Chaldon, the more heavily they would feel its collapse.”

  “And Gadrath probably brought the guards he trusted most to Karadreme Forest,” Jaren said absently. Tension left him, obvious only in its passing.