The Blue Flame [Book 1 of the Daradawn Series]

by Barbara M. Hodges

  She felt the rule was justified, said so, and was giving her reasons when it started. A football player in the front row stood and asked to see her legs. Then another yelled, “I don't think she has any legs. She never shows them.” Then Samantha's friend Linda Watson yelled, “Oh, she's got two of them. But so does Daffy Duck."

  The crowed roared with laughter and her face flamed. A teacher stood up, placed an arm around her shoulders, pinning her in place as she'd called for quiet. She'd stood there as all of her carefully planned words evaporated from her mind. When all was quiet, and a thousand pairs of eyes were looking at her, she couldn't remember a thing to say. One of the students asked his next question, but she didn't even hear his words over the buzzing in her head. All she saw was a sea of faces. Then someone yelled, “Quack. Quack. Quack.” Then other voices picked it up and the teacher was calling for everyone to quiet down. But the quacking just got louder. And she'd jerked away from the teacher, tearing the sleeve of her blouse in the process. Tears blinding her, and vomit rising into her throat, she ran from the stage. At the auditorium door, she'd run flat into Jason Wiggs. He grabbed her arm as she tried to rush by.

  "I warned you,” he said. “I told you to bow out. But you wouldn't do it.” That was all she heard as she tore away from him and ran into the hall. And she hadn't quit running until she reached home and the comfort of her own bedroom.

  "Regan. Regan?” Kelsey's voice pulled her back.

  She took a deep breath before saying. “What?"

  "I said, addressing the people of Daradawn won't be a problem. I'll work around it. You just stand behind me and nod. I'll do the talking."

  Angus pushed a chair to Regan's side. “Sit down. Your face is as white as my beard."

  Regan stood where she was, staring off into the distance. Kelsey gave her arm a shake. “Regan?"

  Regan looked into her sister's eyes. “No speeches,” she whispered.

  "No speeches,” Kelsey echoed. “Now sit down."

  Regan swayed and Kelsey grabbed her arm and guided her to the chair. “Put your head between your knees."

  Regan lowered her head and took deep breaths. When her heart stopped pounding, she looked up at the faces surrounding her. “I'm sorry."

  Rourk placed an arm around her shoulders. “Don't worry about it. I'm scared to death of snakes myself,” he said, then shuddered mightily.

  "That's right,” Angus grinned. “Last time he saw one he broke the Daradawn record for shinnying up a tree, and it an itty-bitty garden snake."

  Regan smiled with trembling lips. “Then you must really hate Black Vipers."

  "We all hate the vipers,” Peter said, jabbing a stick into the fire and sending embers into the air. “I think we should go to breakfast now. Everyone will be waiting for us."

  Regan's cheeks heated. “Of course,” she said, standing.

  "I meant if you're able, of course?"

  Regan walked by him. “I'm fine."

  * * * *

  Regan heard the low rumble of voices and her trembling knees had her halting beside the tent. Kelsey stopped beside her and squeezed her hand.

  "I'll go first,” she said. “Just look at my back, and nothing else."

  Kelsey stepped around the tent and Regan followed. After three steps she gathered her courage and peered around Kelsey. The tilled field ahead was lined with rows of tables. Long benches, crowded with men, women, and children sat on each side of the tables.

  Heads turned at their approach. Then, one by one, the people stood. Somewhere in the middle of the tables a cheer started and the rest of the crowd picked it up. “Kel ... sey ... Kel ... sey ... Kel ... sey!"

  Regan jerked her gaze from the crowd and pasted it on Kelsey's back. Just put one foot in front of the other. Don't think of anything else, she reminded herself.

  The cheering broke over them like waves over a boat's bow. Hands reached to touch her shirt as she passed and she cringed. My God, what do they expect from me?

  Kelsey stopped before a horizontal table that faced the others. Regan halted behind her. Her sister raised her hands and waited for the cheering to stop. “Good morning,” she said.

  "Good morning, Queen's-Commander,” echoed back.

  "Citizens of Daradawn,” Kelsey started, then paused. “No, not citizens ... friends."

  The cheers roared again and Kelsey stood there smiling until the voices quieted. “Where I came from, we have a holiday known as Christmas. And, if you've been very good, you will get your heart's desire as a gift.” Kelsey turned and smiled at Regan. “Well, yesterday was Christmas for me, for I got my heart's desire: my sister Regan."

  The cheers broke out again and Kelsey stood, letting the sound flow over her.

  My God, Regan thought, she likes this.

  "This morning I introduce you to her. Friends of Daradawn, this is my sister, Regan,” Kelsey said, drawing Regan forward to stand beside her. Waves of cheering rose and broke over them and Regan raised wide panicked eyes to Kelsey. Kelsey bent and whispered in her ear. “No speeches, I promise. Just wave.” Regan lifted a stiff arm and moved it jerkily over her head. Slowly the roar quieted. “Regan and I spent much time getting caught up last night and she has agreed to help us all she can..."

  "But what can she do? Is she a powerful mage?” A voice interrupted from the middle of the farthest table.

  "Yes. Is she as powerful in her magic as Dirkk?” another voice cried.

  Regan saw Kelsey look over the heads of the seated throng. She followed her gaze and saw Thomas hovering in a tent's shadow.

  "We don't know yet, but Thomas has agreed to take on her training,” Kelsey said.

  "Thomas? Why not Mage Peter?"

  Peter stepped to Kelsey's other side. “I have other things I must do,” he said. “Thomas will know what to do."

  A murmur of voices circled the tables.

  "Enough.” Kelsey said. “Eat. We have much to do today.” She pulled the bench from the table and sat, motioning Regan and the rest to join her.

  Regan stepped jerkily forward, then sat beside her sister and mechanically took the bowl that was passed to her. The bowl overflowed with purple beans she recognized from last night. She scooped some on her plate, wondering how she would swallow with the huge lump in her throat.

  * * * *

  Regan walked beside Peter. It was only moments before her scheduled time with Thomas, and the purple beans in her stomach churned with her breakfast coffee.

  The sun, at its zenith, caressed the top of her bare head. Ahead of them a field full of people weeded. They turned their heads and smiled as she and Peter neared, their hands never ceasing their movement.

  A little girl with blonde pigtails sat in the outside row sifting dirt through her chubby fingers. She looked up as Regan and Peter walked by and waved a grimy hand. Regan grinned and waved back. The woman who knelt beside the child straightened, then cupped her daughter's chin in her hand and guided her eyes back to the waving rows of narrow green stalks.

  "Peter, why don't you just imprison Thomas?"

  "It is Dirkk we want, not the likes of Thomas. If we take Thomas, Dirkk will only turn to another. It is better to know which enemy to watch."

  Peter led Regan past the fields. Eventually he stopped at the base of one of the mountains circling the valley.

  Regan stared at the mountain's slick obsidian sides and glanced at Peter. “Here?"

  "Thomas's new home,” Peter said. “He desires more privacy."

  "How does he get up there, fly?"

  Peter shot Regan a quick glance. “A joke, right?” He turned away before she could answer and walked along the base of the mountain. “There is a path, but he has a befuddling spell on it."

  "Why, when he knows we are coming?"

  "Showing off,” Peter said with a shrug. “He is watching us right now.” The air surrounding the mountain shimmered and Peter smiled. “He has lifted the spell. The path is to your right."

  Regan looked to the side of t
he mountain. “You mean that thing that looks like a brown, winding piece of ribbon?"

  "Yes."

  Regan shook her head. “Peter, we have feet, not hoofs."

  Peter just shook his head. “It is wider then it appears. It is clouded with illusion. Thomas is still playing games."

  He started the ascent. Regan groaned and then followed.

  * * * *

  The path ended at a wide ledge. She rubbed the back of her aching calves, then walked to the edge and looked down.

  Fertile Isle Valley stretched below, the base of the mountain in easy view of any who stood here.

  She turned and looked for Peter. The mage stood a few feet away from her, staring into a small cave. Even from this distance Regan felt magic tingle her skin. “The entrance is warded?"

  Peter smiled and shook his head. “It is a minor spell. I could easily breach it, but will not. Is your block up?"

  "Yes."

  "Thomas,” Peter called. “I have brought your apprentice."

  From the dim cave entrance Thomas stepped into view so quickly she knew he had been waiting just inside the opening. His slight figure was draped in a flowing robe, and his pale face seemed to float between the darkness of the cave's opening and the black gown. “Peter, I have been awaiting you."

  He didn't call him Master. Regan looked a question at Peter, who shook his head slightly.

  "One moment and I'll remove the ward,” Thomas said.

  "What do you ward against?” Peter said.

  Thomas's gaze clashed with Peter's, then he looked past the elder mage's shoulder to Regan. “I do it to protect the people. I've been practicing some new magic, and I wouldn't want them to stumble upon it while I wasn't here."

  Peter glanced out across the valley, then at the steep winding path that ended at the ledge. He turned back to Thomas and cocked his left eyebrow. “I see. You will have to show me this new magic ... soon."

  Thomas's face tightened with anger, then it smoothed and he smiled. “Of course.” He waved his hand, then took a step backwards. “In time, but for now, please enter."

  Regan and Peter stepped into the cave, then watched in silence as Thomas reset the wards.

  The cave was round and small, its walls glossy and smooth. Lit by glowing orbs that hovered every few feet, they shimmered a silvery gray, “This isn't a natural cave, is it?” Regan said.

  Thomas's lips curved in a small smile. “Of course it is. Rock shaping is prohibited within Fertile Isle Valley,” he said, glancing at Peter.

  Peter crossed to one of the hovering orbs. “I see you have perfected the light spell."

  Thomas sighed. “Yes, but only after much practice."

  "It no longer drains you?"

  The younger mage lowered his gaze. “Not as much."

  Regan crossed to a brazier in the center of the cave. Inside, coals still glowed. “Did we interrupt you?"

  The young mage started. “No. I was just about to make some tea. May I offer you some?” he said in a rush of words.

  Regan met his green-specked eyes. “No. I'm eager to start my training."

  "How long will this first session last?” Peter asked.

  "Until the new apprentice tires,” Thomas said with a slight curve of his lips.

  Regan smiled back “Perhaps you will tire first."

  His mouth tightened. “We shall see. Peter, you may leave."

  Anger stirred in Regan at Thomas's casual dismissal of his master, but Peter only smiled. “You will both let me know how it goes,” he said, then turned.

  "Wait,” Thomas said. “I'll remove the barrier."

  Peter walked to the cave's entrance, flicked his fingers, and stepped through. He turned, met Thomas's eyes, and with a small bow walked away. Thomas's face flushed. Turning her back on him, Regan grinned.

  A darker spot in the cave's smooth walls caught her eye and she crossed to it.

  The cubbyhole in the wall was deep and square, and its edges were beveled smooth as glass. Stacked inside the hole were books. Very old ones, judging from their cracked, stained covers. She reached to pick one up and felt a tickling probe at the base of her neck. The tickling grew more insistent and turned into a sharp pain. So he likes to play rough. Careful to keep her expression bland, she turned to meet his probing gaze. “Where do we begin?"

  "What magic have you seen Peter do?"

  "I've seem him use magic twice. Once when we were attacked by Black Vipers, and at the old camp when Ru'taha attacked us."

  "What did he do?"

  "With the vipers it was some type of shimmering rainbow wall and with the Ru'taha a glowing ball of flame that exploded on contact."

  "Did you feel anything while he was doing this?"

  Regan grinned. “Besides fear, you mean?” The young mage did not smile and the grin faded from her lips. “I didn't feel anything."

  "What about when you came through the doorway?"

  "The rift? No. It was like the world no longer existed. I couldn't see or feel anything."

  "Show me the blue flame,” he said.

  "The what?"

  "The flame. Peter said you bear the mark."

  Regan reached to loosen the drawstring at her neck. Thomas's gaze followed each movement of her hand. His lips parted and he licked them with the tip of his tongue.

  Heat rose in Regan's cheeks as she lowered the tunic to bare her shoulders. With his fingernail, he traced the flame-shaped mark and she shivered.

  "It is the mark,” Thomas said. “You cannot be entirely without power."

  "In my world it means nothing,” Regan said, quickly pulling her shirt back up over her shoulders.

  "Shall we see just what power you do have?"

  "It's what I'm here for,” Regan answered, then felt another quick probe at the block she held steady. She inwardly smiled. “How do you go about it?"

  "It is really quite simple. I have a crystal, and with it we will discover the extent of your power. That is, if you have any."

  Regan frowned. “A crystal?"

  "All you have to do is hold it. Its color change will reveal all.” He crossed the cave, reached into another alcove, then returned to her, a rune-carved box in his hands.

  Regan watched, suddenly dry-mouthed as he opened the box and removed a large diamond-shaped crystal. He looked straight into her eyes, smiled, and tossed it to her. She reacted without thought, reaching up and out for the crystal. Her hands closed around it and she drew it in close against her body.

  The crystal was ice cold against her skin. Slowly it warmed, absorbing her heat. Regan stared down into its rainbow surface. Inside the crystal, a tiny light flickered. It danced from facet to facet and her gaze followed. The speck of light moved faster and faster, then suddenly flared. Intense pain shot through her body. She screamed as every muscle in her body locked, rigid. The crystal dropped from her immobile fingers and rolled toward Thomas's feet.

  His mouth curved in a cruel sneer. “My master does not like to see his baubles treated such.” He picked up the crystal and with an almost gentle smile ran it down the length of her arm. Regan shrieked as pain seared her skin.

  "My master is going to ask you questions and when he does you will answer."

  "Go to hell,” she gasped.

  Thomas smiled in delight and held the crystal to her cheek. Regan's head jerked back as waves of agony ripped through her. Her screams filled the cave, ceasing only as she plunged into darkness.

  The touch of a hand on her bare skin brought her back to consciousness. She hung from a chain suspended in mid-air, her toes just grazing the floor. Iron bands circled her wrists. She twisted them and then moaned as the bands dug into her skin with the pressure of her weight.

  Thomas stood in front of her. Running his hand beneath her tunic, he slowly traced the mark of the blue flame.

  Regan jerked her shoulder, then gasped as her muscles screamed in protest. He moved to stand in front of her, then trailed his finger down the length of her cheek. “I
can do anything to you I wish.” His hand went into his pocket and brought out the crystal.

  "No,” Regan moaned. “No."

  "If I touch this to your forehead, it will probably drive you insane."

  "No, please,” she whispered.

  Thomas's smiled widened. “Yes, beg, and once my master is finished with you, I might let you live.” He sighed and turned away. “But for now I must let him know you are here, although I do not see why. You are no threat to us. Your Power is fit for only kitchen magic."

  Thomas walked to the center of the cave and knelt. He drew a half-circle out from the wall and inside it traced a rune of black soot. “Peter is a weak fool. I have a real master now, one who knows how to use his power."

  "Who?” Regan whispered, fearing she already knew the answer.

  Thomas raised his head and smiled. “Soon you shall know.” Turning his back on her, he continued drawing on the stone.

  He stood and backed from the circle. Regan felt frigid wind stir her hair. In the rune-carved circle, the air churned and wavered. The cave wall rippled, and then she was looking beyond it and into a fire-lit room. A man stood on the other side. He stepped through the wall and it solidified behind him.

  A black leather mask covered his face from his eyes to just above his mouth. From behind the mask, his green eyes flicked over her and he frowned. “What is this?” His voice was soft and warm.

  "I sought to make her more—pliable,” Thomas said with a quivering voice.

  Regan saw the man's gaze go to the crystal Thomas still gripped. “You used the crystal on her?"

  The blood drained from Thomas's face and he fell to his knees in front of the man. “Only a little, master."

  The masked-man's full lips curved into a small smile. “How many times must you be told? Your pleasures must wait until I have mine."

  "Yes, Master,” Thomas whined.

  "You know what you must do."

  Whimpering, Thomas slowly lifted the crystal and held it against his left arm. His screams cut through the cave. Satisfaction rippled through Regan, followed by a cold sickness at her pleased gloating.

  Thomas's screams continued as the man stared down at him with a small smile. Finally he said. “Enough."