The flames died down around the Fyrst and he hurried over as Wyln once more took my chin in his hand, looking into my face. “Earth, wind and fire,” he repeated. “Of my line—”
“Not to interrupt your exultation, honored Enchanter,” Moraina said, steadying herself, “but we’re not finished here.” Beside her, Suiden slowly climbed to his feet.
Everyone stared at the dragoness—except me. I slipped through Wyln’s hands and sort of folded down to the floor, all the while focusing on breathing as I dealt with the metallic taste in my mouth. Da came over and stood by me, followed by Uncle Havram. Beyond them, though, I could once again see a flash where the Magus’ working had cracked the marble. Wary, I turned my head fully to look at it.
“What do you mean, honored Moraina?” Wyln asked, his hand now resting on my head.
“The sorcerer who had everyone upset,” Moraina said. She turned her sapphire eyes on Falkin and the lieutenant jumped, shutting his mouth with a snap. “Slevoic, you called him?”
“Yes,” Molyu said before Falkin could. She walked back over to Pellan and tapped his cheek. “Where is he?”
There were tears on Pellan’s face as he looked back at Her Grace. I supposed having a second chance at life could be rather intense. He considered his aunt for a moment, then hung his head. “He’s with the Magus. As another apprentice.” He closed his eyes.
“Why am I not surprised?” Javes said. The wolf looked at the Magus, who had fallen to his hands and knees, gasping, winded. “You are a bad man. I’d bite you if I weren’t sure you’d poison me.”
“Where is he, Kareste?” the Fyrst asked.
Several castle guards approached the Magus, and he lifted his drooping head to glare at them out of ice shard eyes. The guards stopped and looked to His Grace.
“I think you should touch Kareste, Laurel Faena,” the Fyrst said, “for if I lay hands on him, there won’t be much left.” Laurel moved swiftly to the Magus, the truth rune glowing on his paw.
All brooding malevolence drained out of the Magus’ face, to be replaced by panicked terror as he tried to evade the Faena, staggering to his feet. “No!”
“He says that a lot, indeed he does,” Esclaur remarked as the guards caught the Magus by his arms, holding him still for Laurel.
I started to watch Laurel lay his paw on the Magus’ forehead, but was distracted by another flicker. I managed to stand, pulling away from my da and Wyln, and went to the damaged marble. Resting my haunches on my heels, I held my staff in one hand and stared at the floor.
“What do you see, Two Trees’son?” Wyln asked as he and my da moved with me. Laurel hesitated, his paw just above the Magus’ head as he turned to look.
Once more I saw the light flash along the stone. An earthy fragrance rose up from the cracks and bubbles, evoking summertime in the forest.
Laurel’s nostrils flared, scenting, and he dropped his paw. “I’ll be right back,” he said to Kareste. “Don’t move.” He hurried over to where I was, the beads on his ears and staff clacking, as he stooped next to me once more. He inhaled again and smiled, showing his fangs.
“What is it?” Wyln asked.
“A gateway,” Laurel said. He held out his paw. “Like this, Rabbit.” I mimicked him, holding out my hand, and felt something grasp hold.
“Now pull.”
I stood, pulling.
“Rabbit,” Da said, his voice hushed. “What have you become?”
“I—” I began, staring into Honor Ash’s face. She reached out and almost touched the staff, and she smiled.
The High Council once more erupted in screams and frantically pulled at their bindings as haunts flowed after the sprite’s shade, filling the room with ghostly fangs bared, claws unsheathed, horns lowered. Basel, flickering rapidly between man and stag, started towards Kareste. Still staring at the sprite Faena’s haunt, I put out my arm, and he stopped, his eyes red with rage.
“Necromancy,” one of the clerks said, warding against evil, others muttering, gesturing and hissing with him. “Ripping ghosts from their rest, moon season or no.”
“No, not necromancy,” Doyen Allwyn said from where he sat a little ways from me on the floor. “It’s a reckoning. These are the phantoms that the Magus had banished, and they have now returned. With a vengeance.”
I looked down at Honor’s hand in mine, truth rune to truth rune. My eyes widened as I saw—Honor shook her head, gently disengaging, and it faded into a memory of a dream that maybe I once had. But other things remained.
“You killed her!” I spun around, glaring at Kareste as he hung limp between the guards. “You bound her, took an axe and sodding cut her down! For her staff!” Laurel growled, showing his fangs again, his own claws unsheathed.
I walked towards the Magus, Basel and Honor on either side. “You killed honored Moraina’s son! For his bones and hoard!”
Moraina gave a muted roar.
The unicorn paced with me. “You killed her for her horn!” The leopard joined us as I leapt onto the dais. “You killed him for his claws!” The rest of the haunts crowded behind me as I raised my staff. “All done for power! All of this done for pox-rotted power!”
“Rabbit, stop.” Laurel caught up with me, stepping in front.
“Give him to me!” I howled, trying to get past the Faena. “I will cut his heart out and eat it with a spoon!”
Laurel cuffed me with his paw. “The Magus is forfeit to the Lady!”
As I glared at the Magus, dragging air into my lungs, he suddenly raised his head, staring back at me with iced eyes. Then he yanked his arms from the surprised guards and I was blown off the dais with the shrieking blast of an ice storm. He must’ve caught his breath. I slid along the floor, spinning, managing to stop and get back to my feet just in time to see folk thrown aside as the blizzard blew out of the audience hall.
“Kareste,” I belled, exploding out the remaining windows in the hall.
“Rabbit, wait—” I reached for the wind, and was gone.
Chapter Sixty-seven
I flowed down the steps, out into the castle courtyard, streaking past the inner gate, through the bailey and out the main gate, everything blurring as I chased the fast-moving ice storm. We flashed over the moat, the water freezing as the Magus passed, icicles dripping from the bridge. Full of winter, he streaked into the park, rime coating the trees’ needles and branches.
We sped along the hard-packed sand of the road, made crystalline by ice, Kareste always just out of reach. Then he veered off into the trees, dodging around their trunks, and I could hear the park denizens fighting to escape the killing storm. Some didn’t, and I flew by frozen birds’ nests, a hedgehog, a doe and her two fawns. We exploded into a large clearing, the pine needle ground cover turning brittle and the surrounding trees becoming tinted with frost. Kareste abruptly stopped, changing back into the man, facing me. I also stopped, allowing myself to form, ignoring the icy ground against my bare feet.
“Well, if it isn’t Lord Sweet Cheeks Puke.”
My head snapped around to see Slevoic, wearing the dragon skin hauberk, standing with the rebel troopers, lit cheroot in one hand, Pru Oak’s body in the other.
“Vicious,” I said. “You slither into the most amazing places.”
Slevoic glanced at Kareste, holding out Pru Oak’s body to him, then looked back at me. “I told you you should be careful who you let get behind you.”
Kareste plucked the death staff from Slevoic’s grasp and gave his wintry smile, speaking to me directly for the first time since I returned to the Border. “Apparently, the captain of the Valiant is a good friend of Lord Gherat and not averse to a little free trading.” He settled the tip of the staff into the ground, the dead sprite’s eyes black pits in her tortured face.
“Yeah,” Slevoic said. “It’s not the first time he’s slipped me into the Borderlands. This time right under sodding Suiden’s nose.” As he spoke, I caught the heavy smell of burnt wood and I looked beyond the horses an
d other obvious evidences of a camp to see that the trees ringing the clearing bore scorch marks.
Reading my expression, Slevoic shrugged. “I never understood the tree problem during the Border War, puke.” He took a drag on his cheroot and was briefly outlined in fire. “A little torching took care of any freakishness.” My gaze returned to Kareste just in time to see a thread shoot out from him to Slevoic, and I quickly lifted the truth rune, the ice on the trees catching its reflection. The rebels cried out as the blinding brightness filled the clearing, but Kareste just did his wintry smile once more, while Slevoic laughed.
“What’s that supposed to do?”
“Makes us see the truth about ourselves,” Kareste said. In the light I could see tendrils attaching themselves to the soldiers, the one between him and Slevoic swelling into a thick, pulsing cord. The Magus was feeding again.
“Oh, yeah. Groskin said something about that.” Slevoic drew on his cheroot again, his blue eyes and open face mild and inoffensive. “I already know the truth about me, puke. And I like it. I like it a lot.”
“Now if it were the Faena and he was using his rune to touch us,” Kareste said. His smile faded as his face became intent. “I want him alive, if possible. If not, keep his body whole.”
“Yes, Magus,” Slevoic said, licking his lips. He dropped his cheroot and fire whooshed up, engulfing him. Steam rose from where he stood as the flames met the frost on the ground and I could feel the terror of the park at the threat of a firefight.
“It’s not just the truth about yourself, Vicious,” I said, still holding the rune high. “But the truth.” I nodded at the cord, now as big as my forearm. “What do you think that is?” The burning man jerked his head around and down, staring. “What the poxy hell?”
“He’s feeding off you,” I said. “He likes them young and tender, seasoned with talent.” Slevoic hit at the cord; it grew larger. “No.” He reached out both hands and pulled. “Stop it!” He grabbed his sword, raising it, but Kareste flicked his fingers and Slevoic’s eyes rolled back as he collapsed, more steam billowing up as the ground hissed and popped under him. The soldiers cried out again, breaking and running. They reached the trees only to slump to the ground, drained.
Kareste turned to me. “Now you, apprentice.” His voice was the winter storms in the Upper Reaches.
I didn’t wait for him to finish, but leapt—and slammed into a wall of ice.
Kareste smiled as I bounced back. “No Faena or Enchanters. No swords, spheres or dragons. No rules, no ‘thou shalt not’s.”
I tried to go around, and met another wall on the side.
“I’ve underestimated you three—no, four times,” Kareste said, producing a dragon talon. He tossed it into the steam around Slevoic.
I stretched out a hand to the other side, and touched ice. The same behind, and beneath was frozen solid, cutting me off from the earth.
Kareste pushed the tip of the death staff farther into the ground, and Pru’s screaming mouth moved as he gouged power. “But I believe I now have your full measure.” The steam started to coalesce, freezing as it formed.
Reaching up and discovering more ice, I considered a moment, then brought my staff before me, centering. As I found balance, I heard the wind ask a question. Faena-like, I asked one in return. The wind shifted as it carried my query out to sea.
“You’ve three aspects, apprentice,” Kareste said. “Well, now so do I. Water.” He flicked his fingers again and a snow flurry appeared. “Earth.” He shoved the staff down, and the earth shrieked. “And fire.” He indicated Slevoic. “Talent-wise we’re matched. But I’ve more. More knowledge, more experience, and this.” The iced steam became denser and wings spread as the vapor shaped into a dragon.
“Hadn’t you wondered why you never saw the dragon or sprite’s ghosts, even though you had parts of their bodies?” Kareste asked. “They are mine, just as you once were, and will be again.” He gestured, and the haunt started in my direction, the ice shimmering with echoes of green, purple, pink, its eyes as black as the death staff’s. As it floated closer, it opened its mouth, showing the abyss. “Yield or be consumed, and I’ll have you anyway.”
The wind blew back with not only the sea’s response, but the wells, fountains, brooks, streams, waterfalls and rivers that ran through and filled the land, all murmuring, singing, babbling, laughing, crashing and thundering, as now they asked. Yes, I softly exhaled, and they rushed in, until I was full to overflowing. I raised my head to the sky and Kareste started to frown.
“What—” He broke off at the sound of hoofbeats coming closer and he shot a side glance to the edge of the clearing. “It appears we have company.” The dragon haunt hesitated.
A moment later, the Fyrst and Wyln, Jeffen, and the rest of the troop mingled with castle guards rode into the clearing, Javes, Groskin and Laurel loping alongside, and followed by Basel, Honor Ash, and the other haunts. There was the flap of wings and Dragoness Moraina, Suiden, and Harbormaster Lin landed, along with hundreds of butterflies that exploded into the trees.
Kareste brought up his hand, aiming it at me. “That’s far enough. Any closer, and he—well, I’m sure you know the rest.”
“Rabbit!” Suiden roared.
“No,” Moraina said, extending her wing to stop him. Her sapphire eyes moved between Kareste and the dragon haunt. “Let the young human prove his mastery.”
“I thought he already had,” Javes said.
“So he did, over earth, wind and fire,” Moraina replied.
Wyln and Laurel both snapped their heads to stare at Moraina, while Lin’s mouth rounded into an “Oh.”
“Sod mastery!” Jeff tried to ride past Laurel, but the Faena caught his horse’s reins. “There’s a wicked ghost coming at him.”
“My poet son,” Moraina rumbled. “What has been done to you?”
“Sirs,” Groskin said at the same time. “Over there.” He nodded at the rebel soldiers.
Javes turned his head to look. “Oh, I say.”
Also looking, Suiden signaled and, despite (or because of) being ordered by a dragon, several troopers started edging around the line of trees to where the rebels lay on the ground.
“What is that?” the Fyrst asked as he stood in his stirrups looking over at Slevoic, still burning. His brows drew together at the scorched trees. “Who dared use fire on my trees—”
“It’s enough nattering to drive one mad!” Kareste raised his hand higher and the snow eddied faster around him. “One more word and I swear I’ll call a blizzard down on all of you—”
He broke off at the sudden warm wind gusting over us, smelling of rain and sea. He looked up to see dark clouds rapidly filling the sky, and fat drops started to come down, quietly thudding into the frozen cover. The ones falling on Slevoic hissed as they hit the flames and the dragon haunt wavered.
“There seems to have been a weather change,” Lin said, holding her hand out to the rain.
Ignoring the faerie, Kareste yanked the death staff out of the ground and gestured at the sky. The snow spinning around him spiraled up and for a brief moment the rain became frozen flakes, and the ice dragon solidified. But the wind blew again and it was once more a gentle summer’s storm. The drops fell faster and faster, until they were a steady soft drumming, and the rime on the trees began to melt. They stirred, awakening.
“Can an air talent do this?” the Fyrst asked, also holding out his hand.
“No, Your Grace,” Laurel said, his ears pressed forward as he watched me. “Bring the storm, yes, but not control what falls from it. Only a water mage can.”
“Earth, wind, fire, and water” Wyln said.
I pushed at the wall in front of me, feeling it give, then shatter, and stepped out into the rain. Hearing the ice breaking, Kareste jerked his head down—and gaped. “What the—” His eyes frantically searched the clearing; then he spun around, looking behind him.
“Where did Rabbit go?” Groskin rumbled, other troopers crying out with
him. They too searched the glade.
The warm rain came down harder and little rivulets started to run under the pine needle cover, carrying away the last of the frost. There was a tinkling crash as the rest of the box of ice collapsed. The ice dragon’s haunt began to dim as the flames around the Vicious flickered, then went out.
“I think that’s Slevoic,” Javes said, his good eye squinting through the rain.
“Who is now a feast for the Magus,” Wyln said.
“A pox on Slevoic.” Jeff tried to yank the reins from Laurel. “Where’s Rabbit?” Ryson joined Groskin as the black panther raised his head, trying to scent.
Kareste gestured again and the snowstorm around him expanded, the dragon haunt becoming solid once again. But the wind blew, the warm rain poured down, and the snowstorm shrank as the flakes melted. A raindrop fell on Kareste, darkening his hair, and he started.
“No!”
More drops fell on him.
“I’m the master mage!”
Kareste stared about the clearing, his eyes coming to rest on Moraina. He bared his teeth and waved Pru Oak’s body; the dragon haunt started in the dragoness’ direction. “Show yourself, apprentice, or I will let the ghost loose on his dam.”
“Uh, isn’t there something we can do to help?” Falkin asked, shifting in his saddle.
There was a cracking sound, like the breaking of a bone, and the dragon talon flew through the air to land at Moraina’s feet. She picked it up, gently closing her claw over it. The dragon haunt paused, then turned to Kareste. Its empty eyes started to fill.
Kareste took a step back, his own eyes widening. He then lifted Pru Oak’s body to slam it back into the earth, but it was wrenched from his hand and flung, landing beyond the clearing’s edge. There was another crack, this time the breaking of a branch, and a sprite haunt with oak leaves in her hair appeared at the clearing edge. The trees rustled, shifting.
“Stay back,” the Fyrst said to them. “Two Trees’son is proving his mettle.”
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