by Lawrence, J.
At the time he wasn’t quite sure why he was reluctant to hand it over to the cataloguers. But now he was glad he hadn’t. At first it was quietly suggested that all meldstone be announced and catalogued, just for record keeping purposes. Then, it needed to be studied, inside the walls of the guilds, of course. Then there were a few accidents. “Unexplainable unfortunate occurrences” was the term. Before long it was all locked up deep in the Temple, for the protection of all. In that systematic fashion the Di’Madierin had managed to scoop up every scrap of meldstone he could get his hands on for years.
It was true that it couldn’t be left lying around for just anyone to get at. There was no telling what someone could do with enough of it, especially if the inborn using it knew what they were about and intended harm. However, a member of the Order that had been around for as long as he had should be allowed access to meldstone when he saw fit. It was custom so old it might as well be law.
Deftly he opened himself. The world around him burst into azure wind. He brushed the blue stone with tendrils of the Jen’Ghon and it hummed in response. He should have thought to use the stone to meld with the inborn that had wreaked havoc in the skies the moment it started. Using the stone for seeking another inborn didn’t take much. In fact he sought more times than he could remember. Over the years, Gabril and he must have brought scores of initiates through the Temple gates. But the sheer magnitude of the amount of the Jen’Ghon that was wielded that day, even undisciplined as it was, hit him like a giant hammer. Without warning he had completely been separated from his wits.
When he awoke later to find the stone seeking he was completely baffled. He didn’t remember opening the sack…. Yet, here it was, singing louder even now. He must have done it instinctively somehow. It wasn’t possible any other way. No one could use meldstone without touching it.
Lars sucked in the smooth tobacco smoke. He was going to miss this leaf. He only had a few bowls left now.
Something out of place caught his attention. The stone was singing louder. Too loud… They were still days from Ontar Hold. The only reason the stone would be singing this loudly was if…
Whoever it sought was coming toward it.
“They are headed this way. And they are close.” There wasn’t any need to explain who he meant.
Gabril sat on his mount, lips pursed in an uncomfortable grimace. He was supposed to peel off the trail and take the higher ground, providing cover with his bow. Instead the man just sat there looking ridiculous.
“What? Do you want me to hold your hand?” Lars snapped at the Circle. Normally the man couldn’t wait for something to do. Now here they were about to encounter one of the most dangerous…
“It’s not that. It’s just…” He fidgeted with his reins. “A man your age, playing with his stones…” Gabril laughed as his mount whirled.
Lars Telazno shook his head and put away his sack.
“Not right. Shameful.” Gabril’s disembodied voice echoed down to him. The man was already invisible.
Lars smiled. Besides being the most deadly man the Circles had to offer, there was at least one more good thing about Gabril.
They would probably both die laughing. There was only one other way he would prefer to go.
Chapter 27
Perfect
Lisella Ontar sat on a stool reading a message from Tristan while Farina deftly worked a ribbon into her hair. The fireplace gave off comforting warmth. It radiated into the stone walls and polished floors, illuminating the tapestries and sculptures that adorned the room. Yet, it did nothing to drive away the cold in her heart.
That Tristan managed to keep it all quiet was a minor miracle. First his men found the old woman. Then, shortly after the dra had brought her the first of the Bloodborn they found another, a younger one, a pretty blonde. Now, only a few days later she had received more bad news. At least they hadn’t found Tristan’s little sister amongst the growing list of victims. The girl probably ran off with some boy.
Tristan’s note about finding two more bodies, this time down in the cistern ways, both missing finger tips, had nearly driven her into a fit of rage. Whoever the killer was, he was getting worse. According to Tristan’s men, the accidents used to only happen during the festival. Yet, in the past week he’d just claimed his fourth victim. He no longer cared if people knew they weren’t accidents either. No elaborate staging. Just cold hard ruthless rape and murder. So far a body was found in a closet, another in an alley down in the village, and now two in the dark cistern ways. The only thing that seemed the same was that they were all still missing a finger tip.
How could it be that fate had chosen her to usher in a new era of peace and prosperity and at the same time plagued her own halls with some crazed killer?
“Get out.” Lisella said as she crumpled the note and threw it into the fire.
Farina, unflustered, even thought to curtsy, her crimson with yellow sash swishing across the floor at just the right angle, as she made her way out of the room. The woman was perfect.
Lisella grabbed the tea cup the woman had set out for her and threw it in the fire. Then she snatched the ribbon out of her hair Farina had been working on and tossed that in too.
Chapter 28
Dimmed
They’d started the day off early intending to make it to the next keep before dark. About ten miles down the pass they had to stop. A mid-sized tree had fallen across the wagon path. It took five hours to cut their way around it.
They saw the first wolf just before sunset.
The moons had long ago fled to the safety of the horizon leaving only the stars to fight back the deep black of night. Mammoth pines towered high above, their boles easily as wide as the wagon. The shroud of limbs and needles overhead was so tight that only the occasional pinpoint of star light pricked through. Thaniel imagined the blackness was alive, a monster sent by Lisella Ontar to swallow them before they could escape her clutches.
Thaniel forced himself to breathe. He counted at least fifteen sets of bright yellow eyes watching them as the wagon bounced down the rough mountain pass trail.
“Damn wolves.” Samial Harkanin swore at the yellow eyes tracking them. He was all concentration, using every bit of his strength to keep the spooked oxen from running off the trail.
“You said we’d be fine.” Jorel muttered, busily knotting strips of cloth.
“Stuff it boy. We aint dead yet.” The old trader growled and spat.
“Stuff it boy. We aint dead yet.” Jorel imitated Samial Harkanin perfectly, bouncing jowls and all, even the way his tongue protruded just a bit when he talked.
Elycia shook her head at his antics while Thaniel had a hard time holding back a chuckle. Jorel’s ability to sound like other people was uncanny. Thaniel could try a thousand times and not get it right. Yet, Jorel could mimic just about anybody after just a few seconds of listening.
They had torches mounted and lit on every corner of Harkanin’s brightly painted wagon. Yet the yellow flames barely illuminated the forest edge on both sides of the trail.
Everywhere Thaniel looked yellow eyes seemed to drink in what was left of the flickering light.
A spindly iron rack protruded above and over the unhappy oxen. From it suspended two lit torches, which were just two round metal cages no bigger than a small porridge pot. At the first sign of the wolves, Harkanin had them open the cages and stuffed them with pitch soaked knots of cloth. With every sway and lurch of the wagon the torches guttered loudly. For the most part the smoky flames and the odd flapping sound they made had been working, keeping the hungry pack of wolves at bay. For the first couple hours, occasionally one of them would try to overcome their fear and dart in for the oxen, changing their mind at the last second when they got closer to the balls of swaying flame.
Then more came. Now, hungry eyes ran a constant circuit between flames, oxen, and them. One of the wolves, the biggest set of eyes, seemed to be getting closer with every try. If he managed to hamstring on
e of the oxen, they would be stuck out here between keeps. At least until the pitch ran out…
The big wolf, gray and brown fur bristling as it snarled at the bouncing flame, made another pass, coming within just a few feet of the oxen before the flames sent him back with his tail tucked.
Part of him welcomed the wolves. Every last hungry one of them. In fact he should be tossing them treats out the side of the wagon. Because Elycia had been planted right beside him for the past hour. When the first one lunged for an ox she was so startled that she leaped in fright, and landed right in his arms.
When she realized what she had done, the look she shot him nearly ripped him in two. He’d rather be eaten by the wolves than feel that again. He couldn’t blame her for being scared after she saw him call the dra, with that dreaded dais blazing like lightning beneath him. What was she supposed to think after seeing something like that? He didn’t know what to think himself.
Thaniel shook it off, not wanting to dwell on it anymore. But it was so hard. It was like a nightmare that you still remembered after waking. It wouldn’t go away. The vision of that cerulean scaled beast haunted him. The big round solid blue eyes seemed to still be peering into his soul. Why him?
Thaniel forced it all away and struggled to focus on the present. The important thing was that Elycia was right here, by his side now. That was all that mattered. That, and making it to Navillus.
“Wipe that stupid grin off your face boy and swap out that torch.” Harkanin nodded out in front of the oxen at the ingenious rig as it swayed back and forth trailing lines of guttering black smoke. One of the torches was low on fuel again.
Thaniel felt his ears go hot. Even with wolves on all sides he couldn’t help but grin with Elycia next to him.
“She’ll be here when you get back.” Jorel cooed. Then he pretended to throw up.
“Don’t start that again.” Elycia snapped.
Thaniel leveled his hardest look at him. It had the usual effect. None.
“I’ll be right back.” Thaniel squeezed Elycia’s shoulder and she glanced up at him, eyes pleading for him not to go. Thaniel wanted to spend the night looking into her eyes, blue as the unusual sky. Shiny golden curls glistened in the firelight. They bounced with every lurch of the wagon. As far as he was concerned this trip could take for the rest of his life if he got to stay right beside her.
“It’s your turn, lover.” Jorel smirked, holding up a fresh torch.
“I know, dolt for brains.”
“Don’t worry. They won’t eat too much of him. He isn’t nearly as tasty as me.” Jorel’s eyebrows rose up and down as he grinned at Elycia.
“I think I’m going to be sick.” Elycia groaned.
Jorel laughed.
“Get on with it.” Samial Harkanin growled over his shoulder.
“Be careful.” She smiled, eyes full of concern.
Thaniel felt himself beaming again, if he ever stopped.
“Now, I think I’m really gonna be sick.” Jorel handed over the unlit torch and leaned in a bit so as to let not let Harkanin hear. “Come back in one piece.”
Thaniel tore his arm from her shoulder. Was that concern for him in her eyes? Maybe she was just worried at their predicament. It was so hard to tell with girls. Then her eyes glazed over and slid away. He had no idea if she would let him come back beside her after he was done. His heart dropped through the bottom of the wagon bed. Like he wasn’t there at all. Thaniel went numb.
“That’s it boy. Go on now.”
Walking the yoke while the rig swayed back and forth was dicey at best. Doing it while those teeth snapped at you was entirely another. He struggled to keep his balance. Without her…
“Make it quick, Messenger.” Samial Harkanin growled. “We’re comin up to a rough patch.”
Thaniel’s head spun as Elycia’s scream ripped through the night. There was a blur of gray and brown movement to his right. He spun and realized before he even finished that it had been a mistake. His boots slipped off the rigging. Time seemed to slow as he felt his foot catch on something.
Teeth. Long sharp teeth, intended for only one purpose, to tear off chunks of flesh, snapped at him. Only the chain of the torch kept them from ripping his throat out.
He knew he was only a few feet off the ground but it felt like he was falling forever as fangs drew closer with inevitable finality.
Somehow the torch he held sprang to life. The wolf was so close now that Thaniel saw the dancing yellow flames reflecting in the beast’s eyes.
He wondered if he would be dead before he hit the ground.
He had always thought that when the end came his life would flash before his eyes, kind of like a final tally of all the wrong he had been guilty of. He would take the time to make amends with the Creator who would smile down at him and give him the almighty and well earned thumbs up sign. None of that happened. Although everything seemed to be moving slow, like the world had been drenched in molasses, there wasn’t enough time for repentance. In fact, as he thought about it later, repentance never even occurred to him.
Instead, as the teeth lunged for his throat a haunting plea gnawed at his heart. It exploded from deep inside him. It was the childhood the slavers had taken from him. The family he lost forever and would never avenge. It was a hunger for a world he hadn’t seen. It was his promise to see Elycia to Navillus. Or even to the next keep. It was so much more and yet boiled down to one word.
Unfinished.
That word exploded in his mind. It ignited his senses. Like a hot poker it spurred him to move. Yet Thaniel knew instinctively that it would be too late. At any moment he expected to feel teeth rip into his throat.
“No!” Thaniel screamed in a bright flash of pure rage. There was a loud thwack followed by a tearing snapping sound as hot blood speckled across his cheek.
The wolf lurched away suddenly, probably with his throat as a prize.
Thaniel expected to feel pain but there wasn’t any. Maybe the dead didn’t feel pain. Somehow the thought angered him. That such a boon would only fall to the dead. Thaniel reached for his throat expecting to find it a bloody hole. Yet it wasn’t. Confusion clouded his vision as the world tried to expand.
Details trickled back in, filling gaps. He wasn’t hurt. In fact, he was staring into the dead face of the wolf that a moment earlier wanted to eat his guts. Its head didn’t seem to be on right. Its yellow eyes dimmed as he watched.
Just then the swaying torch sputtered out in a hiss as it landed in a puddle of half frozen slush. Instantly the blackness swept in, carrying with it multiple sets of yellow eyes.
Jorel yelling at him seemed to pull him fully back into the world of the living. He was reaching down for him. Thaniel realized he was looking at the world upside down. Somehow his foot had gotten caught in the rigging and now he hung helpless alongside the wagon as it lurched to a sliding stop. Curiously, Thaniel found himself wondering just how hard Harkanin had to pull on the reins to get it to stop. The oxen were obviously spooked beyond all reason.
Jorel must have replaced the torch because it now guttered brightly above him. The warmth of it as it bounced about was paradise to his soul. It was short lived though as gray and brown wolves moved in, unable to resist the big stupid dangling piece of meat he was, regardless of the dancing balls of flame.
“Come on booby!”
The wolves were coming fast.
“Don’t let them get her.” The words just tumbled out in a frantic rush. His eyes searched for Elycia. All he wanted was to make sure she was alright. She had her face buried in her hands in terror, but her fingers were parted just enough so that she could see him hanging there like bait.
“She’s fine. Now, shut up and reach for my hand.”
“Nine hells…” He heard Harkanin swear as mud and ice cold slush splashed across his face.
A black horse pounded in beside him. Flashing hooves sent wolves flying in all directions. What the horse missed, the warrior that leaped off her back
and into the pack didn’t. Wolves sprang at him from all sides. Yet the man seemed the picture of grace and calm. A vicious mix of yelps and snarls filled the night. Two silver blurs of steel cut a path of bloody mist in front of him as he glided through the snarling beasts. The blackness seemed to be raining furry body parts.
“Need help boy?” An old man’s face, white hair, wrinkles to spare, and the bushiest eyebrows he ever saw was hanging upside down in front of him. He wasn’t anything special. Except that his eyes were alight with an eerie blue glow. Thaniel stared, open mouthed. The energy radiating out from those eyes seemed to reach out to Thaniel, as if the man would have seen him if he was painted black in a vat of oil.
The old man smiled on one side of his face knowingly and without waiting for an answer the old man produced a knife from his sleeve in a flourish. Thaniel tumbled to the wet snowy ground.
When Thaniel looked back up the man held out a hand, which thankfully wasn’t glowing.
“Are you going to just lay there in the slush?” The man asked.
Feeling like an idiot and still not able to shake the man’s piercing azure gaze, Thaniel reached up and took the man’s hand. The moment he did the glow in his eyes dimmed, leaving a pretty regular looking old man standing in the flickering torchlight.
“My name is Lars Telazno.”
Chapter 29
Grizzly Decoration
Lisella Ontar studied the pile of maps spread out in her drawing room.
“This weather can’t hold forever.” She tapped the map with the tip of her dagger. “If we take Rarien before winter returns, the grain from their silos will make it easier to feed our men for the push to Flameshelm.”
“It will take Flameshelm a month to raise enough men to stop us.” Irkhir pointed to the ports where ships full of mercenaries were most likely to come ashore. “Even if they set sail today, they will be too late by a week. Rarien might be out of the way by a few days, but it will buy us two weeks in return for our efforts. All the time we need.” He glared at the map as if daring it to say otherwise.