A moment later, Shadimar felt the other Cardinal Wizards fuse into his thoughts. Not wanting them to drift to his personal affairs, even peripherally and accidentally, he started right in on the spell.
As was often the case, the magic had at least one unexpected side effect. Tannin moaned, the chaos of the summoned magic awakening him in an instant. Light snapped into focus, outlining first Shadimar, then Carcophan and Trilless as they imitated the signals and sounds of the spell. Gradually, the white glow muted to gray silhouette, then disappeared from sight. Still, Shadimar could feel a faint tingle of presence, as if tiny insects crawled beneath his skin. He hated this effect, but it seemed worth the protection. “Ready?”
“Ready,” Carcophan replied, scratching absently at his arm. Trilless nodded to indicate she would remain behind. They had not traced Dh’arlo’mé with a similar spell. The release of chaos on a tiny world seemed too dangerous when other confining and defensive spells might become necessary. Trilless would have to shield her apprentice as the others had not managed to do for their own.
So far, things had not gone at all as Shadimar intended. A nearly endless life without need to fear anything he did not call down upon himself had made him reckless. From this moment on, caution would have to usurp overconfidence. Shadimar felt certain there would be no more mistakes. “Let’s go.”
Though Shadimar could not determine precise location, the wolf’s pain drew him like a beacon. They walked into the forests north of the Fields of Wrath without fear, Shadimar using his staff as a walking stick. Neither the Renshai nor any force of nature could harm them now. Still, they tried to move in relative silence.
The walk took longer than Shadimar anticipated. The woodlands should only have lasted a few steps before rejoining the opposite side of the clearing they had left, yet they continued far past the Wizards’ expectations. Shortly, Shadimar became alarmed. “You don’t think our spell failed and we’re still on man’s world, do you?”
Carcophan shook his head briskly, face scored by a frown. “I felt the magic pop, and we spent all that time sealing off the gate. Besides, I could tell from the camp that we’d left the Renshai’s cottages behind.” His yellow-green eyes slit-ted, making them look even more feline than usual. “You still haven’t got the feel for that staff. You’re making your spells too powerful. That’s why we called a kraell, too, instead of the lesser demon we tried to summon on the Meeting Isle. It’s a good thing it’s law you carry, so it can balance out at least some of your overaction.”
Shadimar hated accusations. Yet his first instinct, to defend himself, passed quickly. It did make sense that the staff amplified his incantations. So far, he had expended the standard amount of magical energy for spells. It might serve him better to tone down his work. “You may be right. I’ll keep it in mind.”
As usual, Carcophan took the matter one step too far. “I know the idea bothers you, friend; but it might prove safer to let someone stronger wield the staff.”
All camaraderie vanished in an instant. “I should have known that’s all you wanted from the start. I can’t seem to make you understand. The difference between your abilities and mine, no matter how significant you feel it to be, pales to nothing once you view the chasm between the staff and either of us.” Shadimar’s fingers tightened around the polished wood. “I’ve told you before, I’m its intended champion. The staff would not have you.”
Carcophan raised his hands to indicate that he had no intention of pressing the matter further, at least for now. They continued along the woodland roadway, the most logical route for Renshai more interested in placing distance between themselves and their captors than in creating any kind of diversion. The wolf’s pain strengthened as they drew closer. Shortly, Shadimar caught a glimpse of a shaggy figure lying still near the roadway. A human leaned over the creature, doing something Shadimar could not distinguish at a distance. The wolf’s pain had disappeared with its loss of consciousness, yet Shadimar’s contact told him Secodon still lived. For the moment that surprised him. The presence of another suggested at least one Renshai had remained behind to finish it off. Even without a steel weapon, any of the tribe knew enough about killing to have already completed the job.
Confident of his magical protection, Shadimar headed toward Secodon at a dignified trot.
The other looked up at his approach, now recognizably Mitrian. A broken arrow shaft jutted from Secodon’s neck, caked with blood and partially freed from its rest. As the Eastern Wizard approached, Mitrian raised a sharpened stick as thick as her wrist. “Stay back, or I’ll use it.”
Although he feared nothing from her himself, Shadimar stopped to spare his four-legged companion. Rage flared. “You won’t last long against my magic. You’re already going to pay for harming Secodon. If you compound that mistake by killing him, you’ll pay that much more dearly.”
“Harm Secodon? Me?” Although incredulous, Mitrian did not sacrifice her position, and her eyes sought and found Carcophan. The Southern Wizard remained in place, scanning the woodlands for other Renshai. “I’d no more hurt him than you would. I heard his cry and came to help.”
Mitrian’s assertion seemed impossible. “Then who injured him?”
“Whoever shot this.” Mitrian tossed the broken shaft of an arrow, crudely fletched with unmatched feathers.
Shadimar watched the piece arch from Mitrian’s hand to the dirt pathway, skidding beneath a pile of shed needles. He frowned. It made no sense for Renshai to turn to arrows as a means of defense. Although Mitrian could shoot, Renshai honor forbade her from doing so except when hunting food, and she had not left the presence of the Wizards long enough to have crafted such a weapon. But no one except the Renshai could have injured Secodon. The Cardinal Wizards had only moved a small portion of man’s world here, a portion that should have contained only the Renshai, Wizards, and apprentices. Realization struck. But we brought more of man’s world than intended.
Carcophan answered the logical question by casting a spell of his own. “There are eleven living human presences on the world.” He released his spell. “Six Renshai, four of us. That leaves one stranger.”
Mitrian relaxed visibly at the pronouncement of six living Renshai. Apparently, she had worried about Tannin. Almost immediately, her expression changed from one of relief to anger. “Shadimar, what’s going on? I thought we were friends. Why would you take us with magic? Why does the trail end when it used to continue? And why does the forest look the same and different at once?”
Shadimar glanced at Carcophan for assistance, then followed his own judgment instead. Mitrian had a clear head and was intelligent enough to understand the need for maintaining law whatever the cost. “I’m sorry for the surprise welcome. We didn’t think you’d come without a fight.”
That seeming self-evident, Mitrian waited for Shadimar to continue.
“I’m not sure how to make you understand, but I’ll do my best. Colbey’s fallen under the influence of powerful chaos magic—”
Mitrian interrupted, face alight with obvious joy. “He’s alive?”
Carcophan cleared his throat. “Whoever is trying to slip around behind me had best freeze before I kill him with magic.”
Shadimar left the tending of the other Renshai to Carcophan. No weapons could harm them, and he trusted Trilless to guard Tannin well. “Unfortunately for us and the world, yes. He’s alive, and committed to causing the Ragnarok.”
Mitrian squinted, obviously doubtful.
Shadimar sighed, with no intention of explaining his motives in detail. “Remember, Cardinal Wizards can’t lie. Colbey wound up with a singular powerful object, the pure representation of chaos. And it’s eating away at his judgment and his mind. If we don’t get it away from him soon, he’ll destroy himself and the world with him.”
Mitrian lowered the stake, stroking the still wolf gently. “You’re certain?”
“Never more of anything in my rather lengthy existence.”
“And you
figured you could trade us for the magical . . . thing?”
“Staff, yes.” Shadimar planted his own staff to identify the offending object. “I’m sorry I had to use you and the others for bait, but it’s the only thing to which Colbey’s rapidly warping mind still holds an attachment. Soon, even that loyalty will fail, and chaos will make him selfish beyond salvation: ours or the gods.”
Mitrian pursed her lips in obvious consideration.
Shadimar drove his point home. “I know you have ties to Colbey stronger than those to me. But even though we forced you here, I promise we have the best interests of you, the world, and even Colbey in mind. If we fail, the price will be the world itself and every man in it, us, and nearly all of the gods as well. Do you understand?”
“I understand,” Mitrian said, at length. “If we cooperate, do you guarantee the safety of every Renshai?”
“To the best of my ability.”
Mitrian glanced at Carcophan.
“With one qualification,” the Evil One said. “I promise Colbey’s security only after he gives up the staff and only for as long as he keeps the peace as well.”
“All right,” Mitrian agreed. She made a brisk gesture toward the woods, and Rache slipped up behind her, swiftly followed by Tarah and Modrey, clutching his child. Mitrian stepped aside to let Shadimar tend the wolf.
As the Renshai moved beyond reach of crude weapons, Shadimar examined the damage. The wolf would take some tending, but not here where the stranger could fire upon him or any of the Renshai. He cradled the limp animal into his arms, cheered by its warmth and the breath stirring from its muzzle.
They headed back toward the camp.
CHAPTER 27
Hunting the Hunter
Colbey, Khitajrah, Sterrane, and Mar Lon left the castle before sunup. Béarn’s king chose the shortest course through his city and a time that would minimize the number of citizens who saw him go. Apparently, his simplicity made him leery of fanfare, though he surely could not keep his departure secret for long. At the least, the nobility would notice his absence at the court, and the courtroom sentries would find themselves guarding the young heir and his warden rather than their monarch. Still, Colbey felt a comfortable mixture of relief and pleasure at Sterrane’s decision. Citizens in ignorance would not try to question or follow. The fewer people who knew of his mission, the more chance at success it had.
As it stood, Colbey had no idea how to locate the Cardinal Wizards’ hiding place for the Renshai and no clue who to ask for help. The only logical possibilities included tracking signs of passage from the Fields of Wrath or luring the Wizards to him with the hope of securing his staff. Either course meant going to the Renshai’s cottages once Arduwyn had been found.
Sterrane had supplied the finest of his horses, exchanging the bay and the chestnut for well-rested steeds of equal or better quality. He rode a massive buckskin that clearly served as the royal mount, its golden coat so dark it blended as well into the brush as Colbey’s chestnut mare, Khitajrah’s dark brown gelding, and Mar Lon’s bay.
The aristiri joined them at the stables. It ranged ahead, flying in wide circles over the forest, returning at intervals to alight on Colbey’s shoulder or the horn of his saddle. Somehow, its course seemed always to take it between Colbey and Khitajrah, though it did not peck or poke at her as it had once previously. Colbey took little notice of the singing hawk’s choice of route, though Khitajrah became more annoyed as the sun’s tip appeared over the line of trees, slanting light across the woodland pathway.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say that bird was jealous of me,” Khitajrah grumbled.
Colbey wisely held his tongue. Khitajrah’s reaction revealed a jealousy of her own, and it made far less sense for a woman to feel rivalry with a bird. Still, Formynder seemed like no normal aristiri. Its every look and action appeared uncharacteristic for a hawk, and much about it felt more human than animal.
Mar Lon chose the route he believed most likely to reveal Arduwyn. The escape from the castle set the stage for hushed secrecy, though it seemed counterproductive as well as unnecessary. Colbey believed Arduwyn would find them if he realized he was being sought by friends. Yet, though the shifting of deer and other animals might warn the little hunter of humans nearby, it would not reveal their identity or purpose.
They camped as the sun dropped below the tops of the trees, bathing the forest in gray. Colbey practiced sword forms while Mar Lon prepared a meal from the generous pack of supplies and Khitajrah confined the horses with ropes strung between the trunks. She left them a space of ground tangled with underbrush, the weeds and sheltering vines without brambles, palatable to the animals. Then, Mar Lon fetched water for humans and horses alike from a nearby stream, his bard-inherited curiosity forcing him to catch as many glimpses as possible of a Renshai in training. Though aware of Mar Lon’s occasional presence, Colbey paid him no heed. The bard could learn little or nothing from the capering of a Renshai sword master honing himself in silence. Without knowledge of Colbey’s choices or the training to follow them, the bard could not even imitate the strokes.
At length, Colbey reluctantly pronounced himself finished for the evening. He returned to camp, settling in to eat with the others, tossing an occasional meat scrap to the aristiri.
Khitajrah waited only until everyone had finished eating and spread blankets for the night before broaching a matter that had, apparently, plagued her for some time. “Mar Lon, would you call us ‘together in a cause’?”
Mar Lon glanced at Colbey before answering. Clearly, he trusted the old Renshai’s judgment about such matters before his own. On the surface, Colbey did not see how anyone could believe otherwise. Clearly, they all came for the same purpose, but he sensed something more significant underlying the question. From Khitajrah, he perceived an innocent desire for information only Mar Lon could give her. From Mar Lon, he got dwindling distrust and a faint concern that Khitajrah might be feigning her loyalty and might pose a threat to any or all of them. The specifics did not accompany the radiating emotions.
Still, Colbey believed he understood enough. He felt certain Khitajrah could not have faked the depth of joy and excitement she had shared with him the previous night, though he had detected an accompanying uncertainty. Then, he had attributed it to the many things that made them an unlikely couple: vastly different cultural and religious backgrounds, a thirty-five year gap in age, and the knowledge that Colbey and Khitajrah’s family served on opposite sides of a war. Now Colbey felt less sure of the cause of Khitajrah’s vague discomfort that night, but he did know for certain that it had nothing to do with treason.
Colbey responded to Mar Lon’s unasked question to the best of his ability. “I’ve trusted her at my sleeping back. And I’d do so again.”
The information did not seem to fully appease Mar Lon.
Sterrane watched the exchange without judgment, though he did seem disturbed by the rudeness of his bodyguard.
Khitajrah addressed the problem directly. “Chaos was ousted,” she said cryptically. “And it won’t return.”
Colbey nodded agreement, though it surprised him that Mar Lon had known about Khitajrah’s loathsome visitor. Nothing he had seen or heard indicated the bard read minds. In fact, Shadimar had taught him otherwise, that only the Cardinal Wizards could share mental communications of any kind. Apparently, he had caught her in a lie and his vast knowledge allowed him to make the obvious assumption.
Sterrane tipped his head, clearly confused by the exchange, though he did not interrupt it. Apparently, whatever Khitajrah had told Mar Lon had not gotten passed to the king.
Again, Mar Lon turned a casual glance to Colbey. It seemed strange for the bard to trust him just one day after he had studied the aging Renshai as if he expected some sudden, horrible mutation into demon form.
“First, she’s quite correct. We banished chaos, and I think she’s strong enough to keep it at bay from this time on.” Colbey sighed, launching into the
same explanation he had tried to impart so many times without success. “Second, I don’t know how to get you, or anyone else, to understand. Yes, I brought chaos to man’s world. Someone had to do it eventually, and I was as much chosen as given the decision. I did what I believed right. I loosed the forces together, in struggle, rather than barring either from our world. I would rather have bonded them in balance, but I wasn’t given that choice. Though I once dared to doubt the wisdom of the gods, I believe they knew best this time. A constant, perfect balance might prove as overly simplistic and predictable as law alone, limiting in its own sense.” He glanced quickly at Sterrane. Though listening raptly, the king either did not recognize his own description or denied the comparison. “I still believe in ultimate balance, but I think slight shifts might prove necessary for the world to continue.”
Mar Lon freed his mandolin from his gear, though he did not play. With a Cardinal Wizard there, he could speak openly, without the musical constraints placed on him when he taught mortals. “It took thought and consideration, but your ‘balance’ argument made sense to me long ago. You may not know, but I refused Shadimar’s offer to become his apprentice for that reason. Because of my position . . .” Mar Lon did not define what he meant, but he did glance at Sterrane to confirm his dedication to the king’s cause of utter neutrality. “. . . I can’t support the extremes that are every Cardinal Wizard’s cause. Every Wizard, Colbey. For all your talk, you have no choice but to champion your force, like the others.”
Colbey smiled slightly, careful to keep condescension or mockery from his expression. There were still things Mar Lon had not surmised and Colbey did not feel ready to reveal. “There is always a choice, Mar Lon. Remember that.”
Mar Lon seemed skeptical. “Are you telling me you don’t believe Odin always intended each of the Cardinal Wizards to champion one of the four forces: good or evil, law or chaos?”
Child of Thunder (Renshai Trilogy) Page 52