“I am a seer, Derek, you know that… I have a hand on Elemental Air and Fire. Visions are part of it…”
His eyes flashed the dark blue-grey of winter clouds.
“You have dreams; when you are sleeping.”
She couldn’t help but grin a little at the childish retort.
“Yes, and sometimes they come when I am awake.”
Daydreams of gold dust brushing his shoulders, or a crown of fire around his head.
“You cannot not have them, can you?”
Sacha gave a tiny smile. The storm was gone, replaced by a sheepish glint in his stare, a gift when his mouth stayed so serious. She spoke softly, “Magic is a part of me, just like the sword is a part of you.”
Derek grumbled, unconvinced.
“I think I saw your birth,” Sacha offered, “and how much your mother loves you…”
“Why?”
The question puzzled her. She always saw fragments of the past and the future, pieces related to emotions or fitting in a bigger picture she rarely understood. Nothing she could think about made sense here. Her brain was too weary to really try.
“I don’t know. Maybe it means you are linked to this place. I saw a fight in the sky, and the Earth opened in two. Sometimes the images do not make sense.”
“Most of the time, you mean.”
Sacha pouted and Derek swallowed a chuckle. Having her sulking at him again was reassuring, compared to how cold and pale her cheeks were when she fought in his arms a few minutes ago.
“I want a closer look at this waterfall. Stay here while I-”
“I am coming with you.”
Derek frowned, but chose to keep his mouth shut, silently allowing her to follow.
The water came down more than seventy feet. The rock had curved with the centuries to allow an almost vertical fall. The stream glittered in the downing light until its striking white hit the pond below at full blast. There, the diamonds dissolved into an aggressive blue-green colour. One side of the pond was inaccessible, the cliff edging directly into it. On their side, the narrow trail continued up to the waterfall to disappear behind the curtain of water.
A ray of light came through the clouds to caress the wet rock; golden spray cascaded on the water like blond hair on a bridal veil.
Sacha clasped her hands in wonder.
“It’s so beautiful…”
Derek ignored her comment, walking upstream until the bank was only two feet wide, a slippery tongue caught between a curtain of gushing water and hard rock. The water crashed upon the rock table, threatening to mill anything falling in its way.
“Step back. The edge is not safe; there are cracks in the bank. I am not sure it can take both of our weight.”
“What?”
Sacha cupped her ear, signalling she hadn’t gotten his words. So close to the fall, the noise was deafening. He tried to cover the thunder.
“I said, stand back!”
Chapter 22
“Where is Elwyn?”
The woman flinched, resuming her search for dust flakes on the floor. Fillin narrowed her eyes, barely resisting the urge to grab the servant by the shoulder to shake a satisfying answer out of her. Surely her question was simple enough that even an idiot like this one could understand it.
She gritted her teeth. The woman looked stupid. Her fingers were clenched into her voluminous skirt; the psi-like tattoo on her left forearm made her another of those forest people her father kept enslaving. They were good for nothing; not cleaning, not cooking, and certainly not providing satisfying answers. The pretty blonde stamped her foot, and spat every syllable.
“The man who was here. Where. Is. He?”
She punctuated each word to drill the question into the halfwit’s mind. A pair of violet eyes came up to meet hers, annoyingly empty; as empty as the maid’s brain, for sure!
Fillin’s temper rose dangerously close to the surface, forcing her heave in a deep breath. Anger always turned her pink cheeks to crimson, and red wasn’t a color she found attractive on herself. Not that she had to worry about her looks now that Elwyn was out of her reach. Or before, mind you; she had barely had to flutter her lashes to have him jump at will.
“Oh, never mind. You will answer to my father later, I suppose.”
The blonde spun on her heels, making it a point to bang the door after her. The yelp and the crash that followed her exit felt utterly good as it echoed behind the door. The torch on the wall flickered, making the darkness dance along the corridor.
Fillin glared, as the flame slowly reached a steady glow again. Oh, she really couldn’t stand this place; it was full of secrets and shadows which refused to be unveiled. Whenever she managed to lift a corner to expose the mysteries of Caer Lon, another corner darkened; layers upon layers of ancient knowledge blocked her sight, each just within her reach, and all so far away that it enraged her. Knowledge was power; different from Magic, yet just as powerful, if not more. She wanted to know.
Fillin sneered once more, and arranged her puffing sleeves before she started down the stairs. There was only one place she could hope to find her teacher now.
oOo
The sorcerer walked back and forth before the stone basin. Twice in the previous days he had tried to reach for the Seer, and had been repelled both times. The fire beside him roared his disgust. How on earth did she manage to block him out? She didn’t know how, or she would have done so from the very beginning!
Trying to get some answers out of her twin brother had been another waste of time and energy; the boy was so thick he had gathered nothing but images of a long-forgotten past out of his brain. Who cared now how a kinglet had tried to break what was unbreakable, and of course, achieved nothing but to trap the Source in the stone? The sword and its power would make him invincible, immortal maybe, and bring the world to its knees, bending before the greatest sorcerer of all times. He needed that sword. The flames licked the mantel, almost white in greed.
Wolfryth approached the bowl, catching his reflection in the silvery liquid. He frowned, yellow eyes gleaming, and the liquid cleared to become as transparent as water. He despised Water, such a weak element, just good enough to play tricks when one got bored. Yet it could have its utility…
Bending forward, he murmured, “Uri deite arostand hudar skivat.”
His scarred face deformed when his breath troubled the delicate surface. Slowly, a glow came to life at the bottom of the basin, spreading light through the liquid, coloring it in tones of green and black. The ghostly shapes in the woods sharpened. A blond man was leading the way, one hand stretched backward to help the dark haired woman to reach near a white fog.
He snorted; Pendragon and his enchantress. So they had finally decided to stop lurking in that pity of a city, and progressed in their search of him… The woman tripped on the smooth flat surface, as if her legs were too weak to support her, instantly steadied by her companion. How chivalrous of him…
Wolfryth’s eyes gleamed as he recalled the ferocious predator whose fur he wore as a cloak. The sorcerer wiped the image from the bowl with a backflip of his hand with a wicked scorn. The seer seemed exhausted; with her defenses low; it would be so easy to retrieve his grasp on her, almost too easy.
Wolfryth smirked in derision, both eager and disappointed. Her resistance was futile but it was so entertaining...
oOo
A squeal woke Elwyn up. His head weighed a ton, so heavy he didn’t even bother to lift it upright. His neck had every chance of snapping if he tried. It also felt empty, thinking of it, now that the images had left him alone.
Unable to open his eyes yet, he used his nose to figure out what had changed around him. The floor was cool, just not as blissfully cold as it was when he passed out in his room. The stench was vaguely familiar; it held its own odor, spiced by sweat and fear, mixed with…
Elwyn opened one eye and moaned as he was rewarded for his effort by a flourish of exploding stars on a dull brown sky; a furry dull brow
n sky. When did the sky grow fur? With black whiskers?
His jolt instantly chased away the little intruder.
“And I’m back with the rats…”
Elwyn gave up on straightening up and carefully rolled on his back. The shackle bit into his forearm so he stopped pulling at it and finally sat, hissing when the upright position awoke the contest of the broken ribs in his chest. When the pain decreased from hellish to excruciating and he could breathe again, Elwyn lifted his head delicately to check his surroundings.
This cell had no window. The wall at his back was cut directly into the rock. The clasp was solid iron, the only metal his magical connection to Elemental Earth couldn’t affect. He gave an angry pull to the chain. His try granted him another pang, which somehow turned into a chuckle.
“Oh Elwyn… You can’t break these…”
Her whole being repulsed him, from her pale blond hair and angelic face to the smug on her sneaky little mouth. Just the thought he’d kissed her… Eww… He didn’t bother softening his grouch.
“Lessons are indefinitely postponed, Fillin. Go away.”
Breathing still hurt, but at least he had the satisfaction to guess she was glowering when she retorted, “There’s no need to be disagreeable.”
“Well, my lady will pardon me if I lack some manners. I think they disappeared when your father tortured me!”
Fillin snorted.
“There is no talking to you when you’re so bitter.”
Elwyn exploded, and so did the fireballs behind his lids, but he didn’t care.
“Are you kidding me? You drugged me and you manipulated me so I would teach you magic and now I’m chained to the wall in a dungeon with rats! Did you think I would be grateful?”
She pushed a handful of silvery blond hair over her shoulder, glaring.
“You should be. After all, it’s thanks to me that you were out of your cage in the first place. I talked my father into letting me take care of your wounds. And if you had told him what he wanted to know, we would still be comfortable upstairs practicing.”
“I can’t believe it…” Elwyn muttered. It had to be the plant she had made him absorb that made him fall for her; momentarily insanity; feverish lust; whatever. He was chained to a wall, beaten black and blue by her own father, she admitted she had voluntarily deadened him, and she still thought he would jump at her every command?
“Leave me alone.”
“Pfff! As if your stupid little sister were going to save you. She can’t even save herself.”
His blood chilled.
“What are you talking about?”
Fillin rolled her eyes, or he guessed she did by the smugness in her reply.
“You don’t really think you are that interesting, do you? You’re just the bait, of course.”
Elwyn held to the tiniest flicker of hope.
“Then you failed. My father and Derek would never allow her to come after me.”
She laughed, and the sound turned his insides into a block of frozen stone, rippled by the icicles flowing in his veins. It was a lie, a trick, just another trick to use him...
“They didn’t come; of course not. They saw through your schemes. Derek-”
“Oh, Elwyn, you’re so naïve, it’s sweet...”
Stone and ice morphed into a glacial need to yell.
“Shut up!”
He grappled to get up, his legs shaking under him; the iron around his arm seemed the only thing solid around him.
“Shut the hell up!”
The voices in his head awoke to scream their approval. His skin tickled. His free hand closed in a fist around a non-existent weapon. The words spilled out before he recognized them.
“Adjegy zibran egyver felhok.”-
Then suddenly it was there, a spear conjured out of the moisture in the ground and the humidity in the dungeons, out of his blood, a deadly weapon he was free to use on his enemy. The transparent shaft took the glint of solid glass.
Fillin squeaked: “You can’t! It’s impossible! You don’t have that kind of magic!”
Elwyn roared.
“I TOLD YOU TO SHUT UP!”
The pike flew through the air. In a daze, Elwyn saw it pass between the bars, slicing the air toward the vague silhouette in the other side of the fence.
“Legi skjold!”
The weapon broke in two on the invisible barrier Wolfryth created in front of them. Fillin backed against the wall, squeezing her hands, her voice trembling in disbelief.
“Father, he tried to harm me.”
Elwyn confronted the wild stare of his enemy.
“YES! And I’ll try again as soon as I get the chance! And this time I won’t miss!”
“Legi angrep.”
The low growl was lost in the terrifying noise of the abandoned spear crushed under the shield. Elwyn’s knees gave way under him and he fell to the ground, affected by the annihilation of his weapon. He understood too late that creating it had taken a part of himself, his strength or his very own magical core…
Horrified, he saw those bits of him crumbled to merge with the sorcerer’s creation, becoming a part of it, atrociously powerful. Wolfryth’s eyes gleamed in pleasure.
“Kill him.”
The renewed blade moved up from the ground and flew again.
oOo
Derek’s shout widened until it hit the rock face; the sound curved, vibrated, reaching higher octaves, growing louder. It continued to inflate, unbearable, so empty, so sharp, wracking her bones, exploding in her heart… She backed with her hands over her hears, under the fall, away from the noise, it had to stop. Please make it stop... make it stop... please, please, please…
“Sacha!”
Chapter 23
In a second that seemed to last an hour, Derek saw her hair spread in the water like it was alive before it disappeared in the furious boils of the pool. He dropped his bag and his sword and dove. The water chilled him instantly. His body protested, his muscles clenching painfully at the assault. The simmers below the waterfall made it nearly impossible to see anything. His eyes burned from the turmoil and the icy cold water. He had to fight to keep his eyelids open.
Derek swam deeper, panic rising by the second. His lungs squeezed, begging for air. He couldn’t see Sacha anywhere. He gave another stroke. She was here, somewhere, just within his reach. God, he was freezing. How to find grey among grey?
The lack of oxygen started affecting his senses. From now on, he would allow her to wear only bright colors. She took his breath away in pure white. His fingers were getting numb from cold. She was stunning in vivid red. He had to find her. Her eyes shone like the purest emeralds. His heart crashed against his chest, fighting for a way out. His whole being was screaming, urging him to go up for air.
Grey clouded his vision and he feared he was fainting. Derek threw his hands forward and grabbed the dark algae blocking his way. The wire circled his wrist, soft as silk. He pulled and the roots resisted. His eyes stung from the boil of the water. Despair renewed his strength. The young man untangled his hands from the floating mane to clench the ghostly form he prayed was Sacha. His foot hit the ground and he kicked, hoping the suction pulling them downward would yield.
For several agonizing seconds, he felt the silt collapse under his feet. The moving ground gripped him, swallowing his ankles. Derek searched for a better hold on the body against his and pushed. He would not give her up. Ever. He bent his knees and his arms closed firmly around her waist before he pushed as hard as he could.
His head broke the surface with a vital gasp, instantly drowned by the water falling on their heads. Breathing never felt so wonderful. Derek didn’t take time to savor the blissful air intoxicating his blood. He swam to the bank with Sacha in tow, keeping her head above the water as best he could. He lifted both their bodies onto the muddy ground, then into the grotto he had glimpsed before her fall. Keeping her close, he looked for a pulse. Her skin was icy and slick under his fingers.
; “You came this far, Sacha. Don’t give up now.”
It was dark below the waterfall, or perhaps the night had fallen upon them. Using only the dim light and his sense of touch, he found her throat. Kneeling, he rubbed one hand on her back and sides, his other hand glued to the minuscule proof she was still alive.
“I won’t allow you to die on me. Wake up, Sacha. Wake up, please…”
His chattering teeth choked the last word. He wanted to yell at her. To beg. Anything, so back to him. Suddenly Sacha convulsed, her spasms worsening by the second; her stomach clenched violently under his palm. He quickly rolled her on her side before she choked on the water she had swallowed in nearly drowning.
Shaken, Derek backed against the wall while she coughed and spat, trying painfully to recover her breath; he kept his head in his hands, eyes closed. For an instant, he thought he had lost her, and the world had become empty and tasteless.
After a few minutes, he felt strong enough to face her and he watched attentively as her queasiness calmed down and she pushed, ungainly on her knees and hands, then straightened up to sit on her heels. Derek waited, not trusting himself around her.
Sacha batted her eyelids, a little dazed. Her head hurt and she touched her scalp, almost stunned to feel her hair wet and tousled. She pushed the locks from her cheeks, and noticed her clothes, too, were drenched. She was cold. She remembered praising the beautiful sight and moving closer to Derek to catch his speech. A warning of some sort, before the world broke under her feet and… Her head really hurt. Elwyn was the one gifted with water and earth. Why couldn’t the antic Caer Lon be in a desert? She hated being damped to the bone. Or freezing cold, for that matter.
Derek’s attention was fixed on her and that, too, was unusual. He generally avoided looking at her for long. She glanced up, trying to adjust to the dim light, and realized he was wet too. He hadn’t been when they walked closer to the waterfall, at least not to this point. He looked like he had taken a bath fully clothed and just stepped out of the tub. Just like she did.
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