Bannor frowned and folded his arms. “If we have to.”
The dark-haired woman looked at him with one eye closed. “You aren’t one of those who turns green are you?”
Tymoril let out a snort, half laughing, half choking on a something she was eating, spraying the contents in her mouth into the plate in front of her. Kegari chortled with a rumbling hissing sound.
“Bannor doesn’t much like flying,” Sarai filled in.
“Ah,” Ziedra glanced at the Draconians. “Well, flying will make it easier to evade detection.” She pressed her hands together. A glow sparked in her eyes and she gestured toward Corim. Again the diamond of light appeared on his forehead and a radiance flooded around his arms and legs with a rush of warm air. The burly man drifted up off the floor, hands and feet trailing mist.
He looked down with a nod. He didn’t seem at all uncomfortable. He rolled his shoulders and did a lazy turn in the air. The man sighed. “It’s like I remember it. I probably could have cast the spell myself, but your aunt doesn’t like it much when I use her magic.”
Ziedra shook her head. “No she doesn’t. She can feel it when you do it.”
Dulcere turned her head to one side; black eyes gleaming in the light filtering through the windows.
Ziedra focused on Bannor. “Ready?”
He sighed and nodded.
“It’s not that bad,” Ziedra said. “I was totally afraid of heights until I learned to fly. Then I wasn’t afraid at all. When you feel in control it makes it a lot better.” She pressed her fingers together and dipped her head.
As the lady savant focused, Bannor felt elemental threads lining up between them. As Ziedra gestured he felt a very tangible link open between them as energy poured into the woman and flooded out through her outstretched hand.
A hot tingling stung his forehead, and magic spiraled down through his chest and down into his arms and legs. His heart beat fast and his chest tightened as warm wind flowed around him and he felt himself grow light. With a teetering off-balance sense of falling he rose into the air. Closing his eyes, he fought an irrational panic and kept his mind and body quiet. After a moment, he opened his eyes and looked down to see that his feet weren’t touching the floor.
The weightless feeling was very similar to how it was when he traveled in astral form. He leaned toward Sarai and thought himself toward her. The tingling around his hands and feet increased, and the warm air around his body made a humming sound. He surged toward her with increasing speed. As he drew close he leaned back, pushing his will in the opposite direction. He slowed down to a stop right in front of her.
She rose and put her arms around him in a warm hug. “For someone who doesn’t like to fly you move pretty well.”
“Going in a straight line is easy,” he said. He took her by the waist and lifted her off the floor. She put her arms around his neck. He kissed her and the two of them did a lazy turn around the conference circle.
Sarai made a humming, pleased sound as they floated along. “I don’t know why you detest flying. It’s so much fun!”
“Ziedra’s right,” he sniffed her neck and sighed. “It’s not as scary when you control how fast or slow you’re going.”
Wren floated with hands on hips. “How are you doing that?”
“Doing what?” He looked back.
“Flying with her.”
“She’s not that heavy,” he answered.
Wren looked back at Ziedra. “I fell all over myself the first time I tried to carry anything.”
The woman shrugged. “Native brain power I guess.”
Bannor set Sarai down gently and gave her another kiss. “We better get started.” He focused on Ziedra. “So, how do we get out of here with all those eyes watching this place?”
“A little invisibility should do it,” she answered. “Assuming that Daena has a good technique for covering our auras.”
The young savant nodded. “Don’t worry.”
“So, we just follow Laramis out?”
Wren shrugged. “That’s the plan, real simple, but those are the best kind.”
The quiet young man sitting next to Euriel laughed. “And how many of those have you messed up, Sis?”
The blonde savant shot him a wounded look. “None. Those were complications.” She glanced to Bannor. “Think I’m bad? Hang out with Bannor a while. He gives new meaning to the word complications.”
He grinned and rubbed the back of his head. “Guilty. I have gotten better. Until yesterday, it had been a whole couple of score-days since something tried to kill us.” He turned to Laramis. “You ready?”
“Aye.” The burly warrior said. He bent and kissed his daughter, then pulled Irodee down for a kiss as well.
“Okay gather close,” Daena told them. Bannor relaxed his concentration and allowed himself to settle to the floor. He stepped over by the young woman.
He put a hand on her shoulder. “I thought you were going to change your shape first.”
She looked down at herself. She looked back up at him with glowing green eyes. “Oh, right.” She crossed her arms over her chest and dipped her head in concentration.
A rainbow of light flickered around her limbs. A humming vibration filled the air around her, and the girl’s flesh seemed to bubble and froth. Her copious body became semi-transparent, a reddish glow appearing to emanate from her bones. Her proportions shifted, she grew smaller and her hair shortened. The lines of her face grew more round, her body grew more lean.
The light dimmed and the girl was revealed in her new shape—or Bannor amended in his mind—Daena’s old shape. This was how the girl looked score-days ago when he first met her in an alley while thugs were trying to rape her. A twiggy auburn-haired teen of less than average height with high cheekbones, big eyes, and an understated mouth.
“Wow, you’ve gotten good at that,” Wren commended.
“Impressive,” Euriel agreed.
“Thanks,” Daena returned. She drew a breath and blinked a few times. She ran a hand through her short hair.
“There’s a girl I haven’t seen in a while,” Bannor said.
“Yes,” Daena said. She pulled at the clothing that no longer fit correctly in any dimension with an expression of chagrin. “I haven’t spent enough time with her. I’d almost forgotten and it hasn’t been that long.” She took another breath. “Feels strange.”
“What are you talking about?” Janai asked hands on hips. “Don’t tell me this is how you used to look?”
Daena nodded. “It’s how I was until Hella ate me.”
“I don’t think it’s bad at all,” Wren said. She nodded to Daena. “Much more believable.”
“Hey,” Daena said. “I was having fun being unbelievable.”
Wren rolled her eyes. “Oh yes, having men drooling and acting like idiots. Fun.”
Daena’s brow furrowed. “Did some man like rip out your heart or something? They aren’t so bad.”
Wren pressed her lips together, a moment of pain crossing her features. “Something like that,” She let out a breath. “Let’s go.”
Daena rolled her eyes. Hand glowing she took pinches of the garment she was wearing, and the looseness tightened. Within a few moments, her sleeves, neckline and the other dimensions of her clothing fit correctly.
Bannor reached out and touched Wren’s shoulder.
“No, damn it,” Wren said. “Don’t look at me. Leave me a secret or two, okay? Let’s go.”
Corim had not joined the discussion. Instead, he had apparently been focusing on how to control the flight that Ziedra had given him. He looked up. “I will keep everyone here apprised of our progress through Dulcere.” He looked to the Kriar woman. “As long as you don’t mind.”
Dulcere shook her head.
Daena raised her hands, her dark eyes glowed and a darkness spread out from her. It touched Bannor’s skin in a cold caress that seemed to fold all his threads in on themselves. The sensation made his heart stutter for a moment and all the hairs on his arms stiffened.
“Whoa, that felt weird.”
Wren shuddered. “Cold. And this works?”
“Yes,” Daena said.
Ziedra was staring at her hand. “No, nothing will detect us with magic at least. Bizarre. I trust you’re keeping this technique a secret?”
“Deep and dark,” Daena agreed. “Really deep, really dark.”
“Good.”
“My shaladen didn’t like that at all,” Corim frowned at the weapon in his hand.
“Okay, last preparation,” Ziedra said. “Bannor you first.” She drifted over toward him, and reached out with a long-nailed hand. Her fingers brushed his forehead. “You know, it’s really tough to get magic to stick to you.”
He shrugged.
“He’s stubborn even when he isn’t trying,” Sarai laughed.
The dark-haired savant narrowed her eyes. Sparks spiraled down her arm and spread around him. The shining bits of light began orbiting his body. An itchy tingling rushed along his arms and legs, and an odd liquid warmth spread through his insides. As the lights spun around him, his skin and clothing were gradually getting lighter in color. After a few moments, the skin of his hand was translucent and he could see the floor through it. In half a breath, he couldn’t see himself at all except through his Nola sight. Only the patterns of threads that comprised his body and the forces at work through it were visible.
“Damn, this is an odd feeling.” He touched his arm, it was still there and the feeling was normal. He simply couldn’t see it or himself.
Sarai probed forward with her hand until her fingers encountered his chest. He took her hand in his. “I’m okay.”
She felt up to his face with her free hand. Then leaned in and kissed him. “My One, I think you got it backward, the saying is seen and not heard.”
Ziedra chuckled. “Okay, the rest of you will be easy.”
The savant of magic repeated the process on each of them until their whole team was no longer visible to normal sight. Bannor could still tell where Wren, Ziedra, and Daena were at through his ties to eternity. Corim was more of a problem, the Shaladen obscured his threads. However, his body was opaque to Bannor’s thread sight, leaving a kind of dark patch that he could follow with concentration.
“Shall we go?” Laramis asked.
“I’m ready,” Bannor said. He took Ziedra and Wren each by the shoulder.
“Can you see us, Bannor?” Ziedra asked.
“Everyone except for Corim, he’s kind of a black spot.”
“All right,” Wren said. “We should use telepathy from here out. Elves being so sharp eared and all.”
Sarai rolled her eyes. “Wren please, that pun is older than my great grandmother.”
Bannor felt Wren shrug.
Daena answered.
Bannor added. “Guess we’re good to leave.” He said aloud.
“Before you five light out of here,” Ryelle said, standing up and smoothing her skirt. “I must say something that you probably already know, but bears repeating.” She drew a breath focusing toward them but obviously unable to see. “My mother put us here in order to keep us out of the way while a search was conducted. You go out there where you’re not supposed to be, the guards can’t be blamed for thinking you five hidden people are the assassins they are looking for. I will not countenance any harm coming to guards doing their duty. You do this against my judgment—if there is an altercation as a result of this inadvisable exploration I will not be on your side. Am I clear?”
“I understand,” Bannor answered.
“No argument,” Wren added.
“Understood,” Ziedra agreed.
“Yes,” Daena responded
“Clear,” Corim said.
She waved her hand in dismissal. “I pray you find nothing, and this endeavor was unnecessary.”
Bannor thumped Laramis on the shoulder. He reached back and made sure the others were aware of their positions as they drifted after the Justicar. He looked back to Sarai. “Love you,” he touched her cheek.
She smiled and nodded.
At the entrance, there was a pause as Ziedra and Wren bent the threads of Kalindinai’s ward to make a gap for Daena, Corim and himself to slip out into the corridor behind Laramis. Ziedra and Wren each slid out much the way someone might step gingerly between the barbs of a particularly nasty braid fence.
Laramis proceeded after he was nudged again to indicate they were clear, heading down the passage toward the courtyard gate and the brighter light of morning. Even at the far end of passage, Bannor could see several sentinels watching the exit.
“Mada (stop),” the guards urged with weapons drawn, as Laramis halted at the threshold.
The Queen had not taken any chances, there were eight burly elven veterans on alert surrounding the exit, four with bows and four with swords and spears. Bannor knew two, Eidon and Kolin, ranking members of the palace guard, elves who served in the King’s personal retinue. The frowns on their faces and the tension in their armored bodies said they were taking this duty extremely seriously.
Laramis drew a breath, keeping his hands well away from his weapons and meeting the eyes around the circle. “Praelor Eidon,” Laramis said in formal fashion. “By light and law, please acknowledge this charge.” He reached slowly into his jacket and pulled out leathern patch with a gold emboss and held it out.
The elven soldier leaned forward and scowled at it. He raised deep green eyes to meet Laramis’ gaze and sniffed. He gestured and the other soldiers parted to let the Justicar pass. “Report to First Praelor Linn’Beloss,” he said in stilted common. “The Queen said to expect you and send you to him.”
Laramis bowed. “Very good.”
As the Justicar moved forward, Bannor surged ahead behind him and up into the sky through the gap between the parted guards. With the elves gathered so close to the opening there had been no sure way to slip past without some noise or inadvertent slip giving away their presence.
Bannor didn’t slow down until he was high above the courtyard some two-hundred paces up. It took a moment for the pounding of his heart to remind him he was crazy. He was flying. He didn’t like flying. He was far too high with no visible means of support. He wasn’t falling though. Laid out beneath him was the citadel’s fine lattice of connecting bridges, courtyards, and gardens all intertwined with the hillside trees. When viewed from this vantage one could see the intricate mosaic they formed, it was a tribute to the genius of the artisans who designed the bastion of the elven kings.
Corim informed everyone.
He let out a breath.
It did feel free to be way up here, far above the concerns on the ground. He never really understood why Sarai liked being up high; especially on the back of a dragon, so out of control, so totally at the mercy of the forces of the universe. Of course, he was that way on the ground or in the air. He never seemed in control, even though he could grip the threads of reality in his hands, he never seemed to be able to manage his own reality.
His gaze traced th
e buildings of Green Run as they followed the curve of the river around the base of citadel hill. Sheltering trees and cleverly constructed shells hid the connecting passages that linked the citadel proper with the outlying wings. The citadel itself was girded by a gate-less buttress of stone dozens of paces thick. The only way in from the outside was either over or under the massive wall through the concealed passages, or across the narrow bridges from the six minarets equally spaced around the main structure. From a soldier’s standpoint it didn’t seem that well defended, given that the entrances to the towers and the outbuildings that connected to the citadel had little in the way of apparent defenses.
Being a creature of magic himself, the auras in the trees and towers told the truth. Even the river served as a defense. Rings and nets of magic suffused the area, ancient eldritch spells worked into the very ground that made each blade of grass and drop of moisture hostile to enemies of the elves. Villains entering that maze of trees with harmful intent would find themselves being battled by the trees, the mist and even the soil itself.
No mortal assailants could have gained access to the citadel by that path. The citadel’s one weakness lay from some kind of aerial assault. Even in that case, there were trained griffins that patrolled the citadel grounds at night; fearsome predators in their own right. The only sure way in would be through magical stealth or teleportation. As Ryelle said, the magical defenses prevented such means of travel. His senses confirmed that those defenses remained intact, a skein of threads that formed a wall of sorts that crossed dimensions. However, Daena could get in and out. He trusted Senalloy when she said that she could pass through unhindered. So, enemies would either have to be allowed in or know the defenses well enough to exploit them and slip through the magic. The elven royals had done nothing but enhance those defenses for ten millenniums. Only someone with the great power could breech them without intimate knowledge of the wards.
He found Wren’s link to eternity, and mentally followed it to its terminus; a concealed network of threads that was unmistakably the savant of forces.
Reality's Plaything 3: Eternal's Agenda Page 24