EMBRACE OF MEMORY

by Vicki McElfresh

  Clanda arched an eyebrow. "I won't, at least not willingly. I offered you sanctuary, and you have that. But if the council rules to send you back, I'll have to. I'm sorry." She averted her eyes and shook her head. "But there is one thing you can do, Cree."

  His vision darkened, and he feared he would be sick. "Start riding?" He laughed nervously, but the feeble joke fell flat.

  Clanda shook her head. "You can speak to the Council. Tell them your part of the story. Tell them --"

  Cali threw her hands in the air. "What good will it do, Clanda? The fact remains that he did destroy a village, and the Council isn't going to care why!"

  Clanda took a step towards him. "Think about it, Cree, you could --"

  "Mama, no!" Mirayla stepped between them. "He can't speak. I agree with Cali, but for a different reason."

  "What reason?"

  She held his hand a little tighter. "He'd collapse after the first question. The memories would consume him."

  Clanda turned back to Cali. "I thought you padded the memories."

  The healer cast a guarded glance at him. "I did, but Mirayla's right."

  "Padded my memories?" His voice was barely a whisper. "What does that mean?"

  Cali sighed. "When you were ill, I spent some time lessening the impact of some of your memories, padding them if you will."

  "But yesterday --"

  "Yesterday, I brought one memory to the surface for you to learn. The padding is still there and will stay there until I am confident you can face those memories without collapsing."

  "Oh." He leaned his cheek against the cool doorframe and closed his eyes. More than anything, he wanted to sink into oblivion, but he could not. Thoughts of his father tied to a stone slab below Torol House haunted him. I can't let that happen, even if it means my life. He gritted his teeth. "I will speak."

  Mirayla tensed beside him. "No, Cree! You can't! You've no idea --"

  He opened his eyes and looked down at her. "I have to, Mirayla. If I don't, I will be sent back." His gaze slid to Clanda. "Won't I?"

  A triumphant smile slid across Clanda's face. "Most likely. Your voice alone will sway the Council. All of us could speak of what has been done to you, but you alone know the truth, and only you can talk about what has happened and convince the Council of the truth."

  He forced a smile. "See? I told you, and I doubt I have much of chance even if I speak." He raised an eyebrow. "Well?"

  "A far better chance than if you stay silent."

  Mirayla leaned her head against his shoulder. "Is there no other way?"

  "No, Love." He pulled her close. "If there were, I would take it."

  "Mama, what will you do if the Council votes to give him over?"

  Cree's knees grew weak, and his heart beat faster. "Plunge a knife in my heart, I hope." He tried to turn the words into a joke.

  Clanda sighed. "I'll have to let them have him, Mirayla. Otherwise, I'll be on the block for treason."

  Cree's heart stopped. His vision went black. His knees sagged. Sweet oblivion called to him, and he knew no more.

  Return to Contents

  * * *

  Chapter Twenty

  The Council Hall was in the southeast corner of Socorrow's Rest, a stark, windowless structure that set Cree's teeth chattering. To his surprise, Mirayla, Cali, and Benjamin walked alongside him and sat next to him on the hard, wooden benches provided for the public. The room was dark. The torches set in the wall were the only source of light. The Council itself sat at the head of the room around a u-shaped table. Seven dour-faced men and women squinted into the small gathering and muttered amongst themselves. At the center of the table, sat Clanda.

  She scanned the audience and rapped once on the table with a gavel. "Who here petitions the Council of Ganlai?"

  "I do." Dressed in dark robes, Sarana stood, leaning on his staff.

  Cree tensed and closed his eyes, breathing deeply to try to calm himself. Mirayla slipped her hand into his, lending him a little of her strength.

  "And what business do you have here?"

  Sarana turned to the audience and stared at Cree. "I request the extradition of the criminal Cree Lin, who was granted sanctuary here."

  Cree's stomach somersaulted, and he let out a breath he had not realized he was holding. Benjamin clapped him on the shoulder from behind. "Easy, it's not over yet."

  Clanda fingered her gavel. "What has this Cree Lin done?"

  Sarana turned back to the council and took a step forward. "He maliciously destroyed a village under Ka-shal Tiroth's protection by calling fire. Nearly half of the inhabitants were murdered, and the village had to be rebuilt."

  A man, seated at the end of the table, raised his hand. At Clanda's nod, he said, "Is this the same village that was annexed into Ganlai eight years ago? I believe Ka-shal Tiroth willingly conceded the ground, and the fate of the criminal, if he is indeed a criminal, should be the responsibility of Ganlai."

  Cree felt more than heard Sarana's sharp hiss. "It was annexed, but the destruction occurred before the annexation. We sought retribution then, but the criminal escaped. We've waited patiently for eight years, and he resurfaced just weeks ago in Lishal Tor. We only want Cree Lin handed over." He rapped his staff on the floor.

  Mirayla leaned close and whispered in his ear, "That's Lyralen Muirhelm. His vote will go with Mama's here. And the woman next to him is Eryn Dar, from Rea. Her husband was killed in the fight for that village. Her vote will follow. You'll have to sway one more."

  "Whose?" He scanned the unreadable faces of the remaining counselors, three men and a woman. "None look particularly sympathetic."

  "Most likely, Leirden Trevler, from Port Shar," Cali whispered. "He's closest to the Southland, Cree, and I know he has a grudge against Di Muired."

  Muirhelm scribbled something on a pad of paper and glared at the mage. "If the return of this Cree Lin is the only issue here, why does Ka-shal Tiroth occupy Lishal Tor?"

  Sarana smiled. "Cree Lin, was once Ellery mac Torol, the eldest son of Reorden mac Torol." Nervous whispers followed that statement. "We hold Lishal Tor to ensure the criminal is returned to us. Reorden mac Torol was most disappointed to see his murdering son return." Sarana looked directly at Cree and smiled. "He's been most cooperative."

  Muirhelm followed the mage's gaze. "And the troops? Reapers have been outside the walls for days. Are you afraid this criminal would escape? Or were you merely keeping our attention here while Lishal Tor fell?"

  "An escape attempt was made, and was foiled. I'm glad to see Cree Lin again in custody."

  Dar leaned forward. "Occupying a city just to ensure the return of the man you want, having Reapers camp outside the walls of Socorrow's Rest while your man is inside." She shook her head. "No matter what you say, those are acts of war, and we've no proof that this Cree Lin has committed the crime you speak of." Her eyes narrowed. "Tell me, what is it that Ka-shal Tiroth really wants?"

  "As I said, the extradition of the criminal only. When he's in my custody, I will send word and the troops will be removed from Lishal Tor."

  The counselors whispered to one another. Muirhelm stood. "Is this Cree Lin present that he would speak?"

  As he stood, Cree felt calm, all trace of fear erased in the face of certain doom. The same sort of calm he had felt eight years earlier when he had stood in a ring of destruction and called to the flames, knowing he would die. "I am." His voice, though quiet, carried easily through the room.

  Muirhelm motioned him forward. "Step closer so that we can see you more clearly." As Cree moved towards the table, Muirhelm turned to Clanda. "You've offered this man sanctuary."

  "I have."

  Muirhelm glanced from Cree back to Clanda. "If he's a criminal, why would you do such a thing?"

  "I do not believe him to be a criminal, and he has been greatly wronged by the man standing next to him. I offered him sanctuary because he was but a child who lost control of his powers in the fit of a fever dream. I call that a
tragic accident, not murder."

  Muirhelm eyed Cree, taking in his stance, his clothing. "And you?" The voice held a hint of uncertainty. "Did you start this fire in a crazed fit or out of malicious desire?"

  Cree let his gaze slide over each counselor, carefully observing their expression. Lierden Trevler looked bored and paid close attention to the pencil in his hand. The woman seated next to him seemed indifferent, and likewise for the man next to her. Clanda chewed on her lip. The counselor next to her pursed his lips and clenched his fist. Eryn Dar and Muirhelm seemed interested, and Eryn Dar even looked sympathetic. Cree stared straight at her. "There was no maliciousness. I was ill, untrained, and plagued with fever dreams."

  "That does not excuse your act, young man, especially considering who you are, or were. I cannot believe Reorden would have tolerated a child who was too stupid to learn his lessons." The woman next to Trevler shook her finger at him. "You should never have been allowed out of the sight of your teacher. Were you too absorbed in the lady of the hour?"

  Cree shook his head. "No, Ma'am, I was sent away because I couldn't learn my lessons."

  "Wouldn't learn your lessons?" The woman threw her hands in the air. "Then you deserve your fate. Send him back to Ka-shal Tiroth, and let the dogs deal with him."

  Muirhelm scowled. "You've not listened to his story, Rasha."

  "I don't need to. The boy should have listened to his teacher. Just because he was too stubborn --"

  A deep breath let Cree swallow his fear. "I wasn't too stubborn, Ma'am. And I am not a mage."

  "Not a mage? Then what are you, a trickster?"

  Sarana laughed, and Cree scowled. "No, Ma'am, I'm a healer." The words were surprisingly steady, even though inside he was trembling. Sarana choked on his laugh, and the room fell silent.

  Muirhelm cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably. "A healer? That seems a likely story, lad, but no healer I've known could have commanded a fire that would have destroyed so many. And any healer who could, would have destroyed himself. I-"

  Cree closed his eyes and tugged at the sleeves of his shirt. He held his arms out so the light reflected on the scarred flesh. "I tried, Sir. I was stopped before I could finish."

  Eryn Dar sucked in a breath with a whistle. "How close did you come?"

  Cree bit his lip and swallowed his tears. "The scars cover half my body." The eyes of the counselors were tiny pinpricks on his body. He wanted to squirm, to run, but he forced himself to stay still and kept his eyes closed. Slowly, he lowered his arms, releasing his tension with a breath. He opened his eyes and locked Clanda's gaze. She smiled a little, and the confused counselors muttered amongst themselves and shifted in their chairs. He opened his mouth to speak, and the mental jab knocked him to his knees. He waited for the first twinges of pain, but instead, he felt heavy pressure pushing against his walls. The room blurred. His head swam. Noise rose to a deafening roar, then fell to a whisper. His vision cleared. Cool hands touched his temples and the pressure was gone.

  "Enough!" Cali's voice was harsh.

  "I was protecting the Council from the influence of this one's mind."

  "He attacked no one, as you well know." She put herself between Cree and Sarana. "I blocked the link. You'll use him no more."

  Slowly, Cree pulled himself to his feet and surveyed the faces of the counselors. He sensed, rather than saw, their confusion.

  "You come to the defense of the accused, Cali?" Lierden said, his expression no longer bored.

  "He is under my protection."

  "He is wanted as a murderer, and you defend him." Lierden laughed. "That seems unlike you."

  "Cree is no murderer. And this..." she gestured at Sarana, "...forced a link in a gifted child, a healer, to be used as a power vessel. A link I blocked."

  Lierden scowled and turned to Sarana. "Is this true?"

  "The woman lies."

  The counselor leaned forward and narrowed his eyes. "I don't believe you. You've accused a Leyloni woman of falsehood, something her people are incapable of." His gaze slid to Cree, who stared at Trevler in amazement. "And I have heard of Cree Lin, who lived with Leyloni. They say Cree Lin could tame the wildest of horses and ride the wind itself. Are you he?"

  Astonishment numbed Cree's tongue, and he could barely speak. "Yes." The word came out as a pitiful squeak.

  "The Leyloni speak highly of you. Are there two sides of Cree Lin, or is what Cali says true? Were you a vessel, bound to this mage?"

  Cree hid his face and blinked away tears of shame. "I was." Swallowing his tears, he lifted his gaze to meet Lierden's. He weighed his next words carefully, hoping to gain sympathy. "Unwillingly, at the age of ten." His words had the desired effect. Hope was still alive, and Cree's heart warmed at the thought.

  "We are forgetting one important issue." Rasha said. "Ka-shal Tiroth still holds Lishal Tor, and if they want this man in exchange. give him over. His fate is important to none of us. He has admitted to his crimes. If the troops will be pulled from Lishal Tor, they can have this rabble." She waved at Cree and sat back in her chair with a satisfied smirk. Three others, including Eryn Dar, nodded in agreement.

  Sarana smiled. "We hold Lishal Tor as insurance only. Give Cree Lin to us and we'll leave. Willingly. If you refuse, Reorden mac Torol will be killed, and the city will be ours."

  In Cree's mind, hope faded. He bit his lip and tasted blood. A vision of Reorden locked away below Torol House, chained to a wall, brought tears to his eyes. He could not sit idly by while Reorden wasted away in a cell, cursing his name. Father, I never meant for this to happen. The room buzzed. The counselors shifted in their seats. He stared into the gloom. The door was only a few paces away. At the table, the Council was arguing in increasingly louder voices.

  "Give him over." Eryn Dar's voice.

  "If we give him over, then they'll have what they want and Lishal Tor."

  Cree glanced at the benches behind him. A few people had left. Mirayla and Benjamin were intent on the Council. Cali continued to answer Lierden Trevler's questions. Sarana smirked, intent on the Council. He had been forgotten. He took slow steps towards the door, keeping his eyes locked on the scene before him. I'm coming, Father. If it's me they want, I'll come on my own terms. He reached the door, pushed it open and slipped outside. He started running.

  By the time he reached the stable, he was winded, and his side hurt. He stumbled to Windchaser's stall and leaned against the door, gasping. Cree nudged the stall door open and wrapped his arms around the stallion's neck. Then, too tired to saddle the horse, he let the tears fall. He lost track of time. When voices started calling his name, he thought he was dreaming.

  "Cree?"

  As the voices drew nearer, he let go of the stallion and slid into the darkest corner of the stall.

  "Cree?"

  Windchaser danced and screamed when the speaker stopped outside the stall door. Cree huddled with his knees drawn to his chest, hoping he would not be seen.

  "Easy, Windchaser." The horse reared and screamed again. "He doesn't like me. It's your horse, you get him calmed down."

  "Come on, Windchaser, you remember me."

  The stallion whickered and calmed. The door opened and the horse was led away. Cree shivered and tried to make himself invisible.

  "Cree?" Hands touched his face. "It's Mirayla."

  He turned blank eyes toward her. "Mirayla?"

  "You're freezing. How long have you been here? Benjamin and I've been looking all over for you." She rubbed his hands. "Let's go inside and get you warm."

  "No, I have to go to Lishal Tor. I have to stop them. I have to --"

  "No, Cree, you don't have to do that. Nothing's decided yet. The Council's recessed until tomorrow."

  "I have to." His eyes felt heavy.

  "What's wrong with him?"

  "He's in shock. Help me get him to my room."

  He struggled as the blacksmith lifted him from the ground, but his struggles soon grew feeble. Distantly, he heard the
voices. "Your room?"

  "Yes. Let's hurry before someone sees."

  ~*~

  When Cree came to his senses, he was wrapped in a blanket beside a roaring fire. His head ached, and he sat up, rubbing at his temples. A quick glance told him he was in Mirayla's room, but he did not remember getting there. "Mirayla?"

  "Mac Torol?"

  "Benjamin?" Cree blinked, trying to find the blacksmith, and at last saw him on the couch. "What are you doing here?"

  The blacksmith chuckled and knelt next to him. "I could ask you the same question."

  The ache in his head grew, and he laid his head on his knees and closed his eyes. "No jokes, please."

  "All right."

  "Where's Mirayla?"

  A hand touched his shoulder, and pressed warm mug into his hand. "I'm right here. Drink that, and see if it clears up the ache in your head."

  He swallowed it without tasting it. "How did I get here?"

  "We brought you here." Benjamin shook his head. "Don't you remember? You were muttering about going to Lishal Tor. You must have been confused."

  Memories came back in a rush: the Council, Sarana's threats. He shivered and turned towards Benjamin. "I have to go back, Benjamin."

  Mirayla wrapped her arms around his shoulder and kissed his cheek. "No, you don't. You're safe here. Mama --"

  "They're going to send me back, Mirayla." She flinched, and a rush of guilt surged through him. He sighed. "It won't matter if they do. Ka-shal Tiroth will keep Lishal Tor, and my father will be dead. Don't you see? I'm the only one who can stop that from happening."

  Benjamin laughed. "You're crazy! You can't go up against an entire army. And even if you do get past the gate guards, how do you plan to get into Torol House?"

  "There are ways." He sipped his drink.

  "Wait for the Council decision, Cree. You ran off before they recessed. You have a good chance."

  "I have to go back." The drink was making him sleepy. He yawned.

  "Not tonight though." She helped him stand led him to the bedroom. "Get some rest, Cree. Everything will look better tomorrow." He lay down and closed his eyes, wishing Mirayla was right. But the thought of Reorden in the bowels of Torol House haunted him in his dreams.