by Tony Donadio
He waited until their carriage had driven off, and waved to them when they were halfway up the path to the hall. Diana smiled radiantly in a tea-length dress of green chiffon, and he was relieved to see that she looked well. But he found his gaze drawn irresistibly to Kay as she walked at her side, his eyes widening as she approached.
She was also wearing a tea-length dress. Hers was black, and the material wasn’t as light as Diana’s. In fact, he thought he could make out the firm outlines of something like leather underneath her bodice. Was that some kind of armor? Her skirt was attractively flared, and he suddenly found himself thinking that there was plenty of room to hide a weapon in its folds …
They met as the bells began to stroke the seventh hour. He managed to regain his composure in time to greet them, offering his most gallant bow. They responded with smiles and elaborate curtseys, and they all went inside.
~
Most of the hour passed uneventfully. They chatted easily, catching up on the events of their lives over the last week. Light fare and refreshments were served, along with an announcement that dancing would begin at eight.
At seven thirty Diana found herself becoming impatient for her unknown contact to make his move. At seven forty-five she took a glass of punch and began to sip it.
Ah, finally, a voice said in her mind. Are you and your recruits ready, Lady Diana?
Diana started. To her credit she composed herself quickly.
Yes, we’re ready. You’re my contact? I didn’t expect telepathy.
If you knew what to expect then we wouldn’t be very good spies, now would we?
I suppose not. What do you want us to do?
Share your drink with your companions. That will let them hear my voice as well. When the time comes I will lead each of you to our meeting place. Do not be alarmed when I take your sight from you temporarily, so that you cannot see the others as they do the same.
But why —
All will be explained. For now, you must do this. If you would be one of us, then you must trust us.
Diana shared her drink with Orion and Kay. When the voice took her sight she let it guide her from the hall. It was thorough, telling her when to slow, when to turn, even when to nod and greet an unseen passerby.
She soon found herself walking blind and alone, giving herself wholly over to the mental voice. She realized as she did that this was the first test of her commitment, and one that not everyone would pass. The resistance needed agents it could trust, and it had to learn whether they could trust it as well.
She could tell little about the room she finally found herself in. She could hear and sense the presence of others around her, but not who or how many they were. When the cell leader spoke, she listened carefully.
~
You will be organized into groups with little or no knowledge of each other. This is so that if you are captured, you will only be able to compromise a handful of your fellows.
Each of you will receive a code name. Mine is ‘White Shadow,’ and it will serve as your first pass-phrase. You will be contacted periodically with new ones. You will use these to validate any orders or messages that you receive from us …
Do not let the nightmare into which our world has been thrust break your spirit. The Church has defended the Covenant and its children for millennia, and it will not stop now. But it knows also that you cannot be expected to fight a hopeless battle against the Dark. I am here to give you the cause for hope that you will need to carry on.
Before his heroic death at the palace King Danor ordered the Diaspora of Carlissa. This ancient order was given by rulers during the Grim Times, when a land was about to be overrun by the forces of the Dark. It instructed the Children to flee and establish a new realm, or to take their faith into hiding, working for the day when the invaders could eventually be defeated and repelled. They were always defeated and repelled — and they will be again.
Despite its losses the forces of light remain strong in our land. Thanks to the sacrifices of the royal family, the Archmage was able to prepare a last, devastating strike at the invading Horde. He killed thousands of them, drove its demon lord from our world, and destroyed its hellgate. He taught us that our enemy is not all-powerful, and we must remember his lesson.
His heroism, and the battles at the palace and at the Silver Star, allowed the leaders of the Diaspora to escape the Massacre of Lannamon. The greatest of Carlissa’s adventurers and warrior-priests now stand united against the Dark. They are the spearhead of the rebellion you are joining, led by our Captain-General, Augustus Darren. Do not despair that you fight alone in a battle against an unbeatable enemy. You have powerful brothers and sisters who will fight it with you.
The road ahead will be hard and dangerous. Believe and trust in yourselves, and in each other. You are the Defiance of the Light — and as long as your hearts remain true, then hope will never be lost in the land of Carlissa.
~
When Orion’s sight returned, he found himself standing before the dance floor. The voice had walked him back from the meeting, just as it had walked him to it. And before it had left, it had given him his code-name: Black Owl.
He looked around. Kay and Diana stood at his side. The three exchanged glances and smiled.
“Well, that’s done,” Diana said.
They couldn’t hear her, but they could read the words on her lips. The band was playing one of the more modern — and energetic — dance tunes popular in the Lower City. Little could be heard above the loud music, and the delighted shouts of guests whirling on the floor.
“So what do we do now?” Orion yelled.
“Well, I know what I —” Kay began.
She was interrupted as a young man in a blue suit approached them. A nobleman in his late teens, Orion judged, with a quick look of appraisal.
“Lady Diana,” he asked, with a formal bow. “What a delight to see you here! Would you do me the honor?”
Diana smiled like sunshine and gave him a full curtsy.
“I would love to, William!”
Before her companions could react she had given him her hand, and the pair were stepping onto the dance floor.
Kay and Orion watched her as they walked off. They started laughing.
“I knew this bodyguard job sounded too easy,” she shouted.
“She’s going to make you work for every penny of it,” he agreed.
“Well, this is a problem. I can’t guard her very well from all the way over here.”
She looked at him, and their eyes met. Her lips curled into a smirk.
“This is the part where you ask me to dance,” she added helpfully.
He extended his arm without a word. She took it, and together they followed Diana onto the floor.
Chapter 26 - The Headmaster's Last Student
Awakening
Lenard Killraven opened his eyes.
He stared upward for a long time, familiarizing himself once again with the sense of sight. He saw a white plaster ceiling, crisscrossed by beams of rich mahogany. A splash of sunlight streaked in from a skylight in one corner of the room.
He heard sounds, and marveled at the sense of hearing. Birds were chirping pleasantly outside, and he heard trees rustling in a gentle wind.
He felt a soft blanket drawn up over his chest, and re-discovered the sense of touch. There was a slight chill in the air, but he was warm and comfortable.
His sense of smell was next. He thought he could detect the scent of honeysuckle on the cool breeze, and the hint of a fire.
He looked around. He knew where he was. It was his room, in his hidden home, in his hidden valley. He was at Blackwing Lodge.
He slowly pushed away the covers of his bed, and tried to swing his legs onto the floor. He re-discovered another pair of sensations: weakness and pain. He knew these, didn’t he? Wasn’t he old? Yes, he was, but had he ever felt them like this?
He carefully got to his feet. He looked up and saw an open door, and remember
ed. The opening led down a short set of steps to his wizard’s lab at the lodge. He couldn’t see into the room, but he could hear the sounds of movement from it: footsteps, pages being turned, a woman’s voice muttering softly …
He made his way to the door. His legs were wobbly and he could barely stand, but he managed to grip the rail and make his way down the stairs.
He was near the bottom when he began to feel dizzy. The world started to spin. His head drooped without asking him, and he found himself suddenly looking at the floor …
But he didn’t fall. He heard a suppressed curse and a rush of steps. Then he felt a shoulder under his arm, supporting him.
“Grandfather,” a voice said. It sounded both exasperated and relieved at the same time.
Slim, strong arms lifted his frail body and carried him into the room. He felt himself being set down on a couch. A moment later a figure sat on the edge of it next to him and took his hand.
“Grandfather,” the voice repeated. “You’re awake!”
He opened his eyes and saw his granddaughter’s face.
“Randia,” he breathed. “You’re alive!”
Tears sprang suddenly into Randia’s eyes. She gripped his thin hand as tightly as she seemed to dare.
“Of course I’m alive,” she laughed. “I’m not the one who just woke from a week on the edge of death!”
He looked at her. The world was still spinning, but it seemed to be slowing now that he could focus on her. He fixed his eyes on her face as though it were a lifeline in a maelstrom.
“Is that how long?” he asked. “I … lost my way. Lost track of time. Almost didn’t make it back.”
She kissed his cheek.
“And almost broke your neck on the stairs when you did,” she said. “Didn’t it occur to you to try calling for help?”
He smiled at her. “No,” he said simply.
“Well, next time, do. Now, how are you feeling? Can I get you anything?”
He lay there for a while, looking into her eyes. He took deep breaths, waiting for the dizziness to clear. As it did his memory started to return, and he began to feel less disoriented.
“The battle,” he said finally.
“What happened, Grandfather?” she asked. “After you destroyed the gate? After she … died?”
Lenard’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “You know about that?”
She nodded.
“When you cast the spell that linked her to my magic, we kind of … merged. She could hear my thoughts, and I could see through her eyes. Even from here. It was like … when Windheart died.”
Lenard nodded slowly. “Of course. I should have known. Your grandfather’s magic.”
“You mean Grandfather Acheron.”
“Yes. The Peregrine King. You’ve inherited his power, or at least some of it. As your mother did, and your uncle Nimrod. And your brother Aron.”
“Is that what gave me the strength to help you destroy the gate?”
He looked at her thoughtfully.
“Perhaps, in part,” he said at last. He reached up and gently touched her face. “Your magic is stronger than you realize, Randia.”
For a time they sat together in silence.
“That was you, then, wasn’t it?” he asked at last. “When she convinced me to draw on your power?”
She nodded.
“I could see that you needed me. She knew what I thought and felt, and she echoed it.”
“And after? When the power had burned out her body?”
She smiled. “We saved the world, you and I,” she quoted.
He shook his head. “She seemed so real in that moment. As though she really were you.”
“She was,” Randia said quietly. “Her last words were from both of us.”
“I felt … as though I had killed you.”
“You nearly did. Don’t look horrified, Grandfather. We both know it was necessary. And it was the right thing to do.”
“What happened to you? After we arrived here?”
“I laid you down on the couch. Then I watched as the battle unfolded.”
“And when I drew on your power …”
“It felt like my body and soul were on fire. When you finally severed the link I lost consciousness.”
“How long?”
“A little over a day, I think. We were both in pretty bad shape when I woke. You were barely breathing, and I was so weak … I could hardly move.”
He patted her hand. “You seem to have recovered, though.”
She smiled awkwardly.
“Blackwing Lodge is well stocked with curatives. It’s impressive what chugging regenera can do for a ravaged body.”
He looked at her carefully. “And for a ravaged spirit?”
She paused.
“That will take stronger medicine,” she said at last.
She stood up slowly. Her eyes made clear that it was time to change the subject.
“Are you well enough to eat something? I was able to get you to swallow broth and juice while you were unconscious. And some of that nutritional powder of yours, mixed with water and regenera. It kept you alive, but just barely. You’re not going to recover unless you start taking food again.”
Lenard smiled. “I feel like I could eat a horse,” he said.
“Sorry, we don’t have one of those handy. But we do have some stew that I made last night. That ought to get you started. Let me help you to sit at your desk, and I’ll bring you some.”
A New Name
Lenard stepped out the front door of Blackwing Lodge. A week of rest — and of Randia’s cooking, which was still as good as he remembered — had done wonders for his condition. His wiry frame had never been muscular, especially in his later years, and his body had wasted badly during his long unconsciousness. Now he was putting on weight again, and feeling much stronger. Soon he would be up to facing the challenges he knew were ahead of him …
Don’t delude yourself, old man. That casting nearly killed you. And your granddaughter. She’s young, though, and she’ll recover. A shadow passed over his face. Or at least, her body will.
He sighed. He had pushed himself past limits that no mortal should have been able to survive. Was he too old now to ever regain his full strength? He didn’t know.
And he had no time to think about it. There was too much to do.
The sun was shining brightly into the small cleft between ridges of the Nurian Mountains that was his “Hidden Valley.” The trees around the lodge were flowering in full color, and he could hear the buzzing of bees and the chirping of birds. A gentle breeze touched his face, along with the warmth of the mid-morning sun.
He saw that Randia was already up. She stood in the clearing next to the front path, and Flamebane was in her hand. She was practicing a series of fencing moves: blocks, thrusts, dodges, and pirouettes. A blanket had been set out on the grass nearby.
She was concentrating so intently that she didn’t see or hear him when he came out. He watched her for a long time until she finally noticed him.
“Good morning, Grandfather,” she said. She continued her practicing. “How are you feeling today?”
He walked over to stand next to the blanket. A skin of water, a pen, and one of his unused sketchbooks were lying on top of it. The book was open, and he saw that the page was filled with notes: names, fragments of hand-drawn maps, arrows indicating the strategic movement of forces …
“Your basic technique is fairly good,” he said finally.
She stopped herself at the point of a lunge and looked up at him.
“Aron tutored me,” she said, holding her pose. “For my part in that play a couple of years ago. There was a fencing scene, and I needed my moves to look authentic.”
“Yes, I remember. They do look good, and you have excellent control.”
She released the pose and stood up. She met his eyes.
“But they just look good,” she said. “All I really know is how to put on a show. They won’t hel
p me much in a real battle.”
He shook his head. “No, they won’t. There are half a dozen counters for the techniques you’re practicing. An experienced fighter would have already used them to kill you.”
She nodded. Her expression was thoughtful.
She’s changed so much, he suddenly found himself thinking. So carefree before. And so serious, now. So focused, so intent …
He looked down at the book. “I see you’re planning a campaign.”
She sheathed her sword and walked over to stand next to him.
“Just some thoughts,” she said. “Ideas for alliances, and where to try to build resistance cells.”
“Isn’t that premature?”
“How can it be premature? Zomoran is going to take Carlissa. We need to prevent him from consolidating his hold on it, and from spreading his power further.”
He shook his head.
“I meant, premature for you. Augustus is leading the Diaspora. And there is no better man left alive than he to take on that task.”
She took a deep breath.
“I know. But I can’t just sit here and do nothing. I need to act.”
“We will. But for that, we need to prepare. For now we’ve done all that we can. We need to trust others to take up the sword we’ve left them — until we’re ready to rejoin the fight.”
She turned away and shook her head. “I don’t know if I can do that,” she said.
“You need to have patience, Randia.”
She whirled to face him. “Patience for what?” she demanded.
“To think before we leap,” he said sternly. “The world believes we are dead. Even Zomoran and his demons believe it. That gives us an unprecedented opportunity.”
“To do what?”
“To watch and to plan. To observe, and to learn our enemy’s weaknesses. To prepare our moves against him — so that when we make them, they truly count.”