The Armor of Light

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The Armor of Light Page 15

by Karen E. Hoover


  Markis stared at Lily, and Ember heard his mindspeech as easily as if he’d spoken aloud, but his mind voice sounded more mature, richer, and chilled her to the bone. He directed his thoughts to Lily, and no one else at the table appeared to hear him, but for Ember, it was as clear as daylight. “I know who you are.” Lily paled and looked at him with apparent horror. Ember wasn’t sure what to think. Lily glanced at her, and it was obvious by the look on her face that she knew. Somehow she knew Ember had heard as well, and she went even more pale.

  Lily scooted her chair back quickly and excused herself, saying she wasn’t feeling well. Everybody let her go with hardly a word. Markis watched her leave with a look in his eye that shook Ember. Just like Rahdnee, something about Markis was off. He was more than he appeared.

  Ember left the dining hall quickly, despite wanting to stay and visit with her family. Markis gave her the creeps and she felt an urgent need to get away and do the practicing her magic required. Thankfully, she was able to somehow elude Rahdnee and Brendae, as well as Lily, and got to the practice room undetected. She needed some alone time. She wasn’t used to being with people twenty-four hours a day. She needed some space, and practicing was a good excuse. Nobody could fault her for wanting to practice, especially after the mess she had made of the orange room.

  Ember stepped through the entryway and turned around, unsure how to seal the door, but evidently it was sensitive to people and sealed itself without her having to do a thing. She only hoped it would let her out as easily.

  The first thing Ember did was lie down in the middle of the room and spread her arms and legs out like she was making a snow angel. She wasn’t, obviously, though a part of her mind wondered if she could actually make a stone angel if she wanted. She was tempted to try it, but instead, she shut her eyes and let the quiet of the room and the hum of magic ease her aches, both emotionally and physically.

  After several moments, she sat up and decided she’d better get to work. If anyone asked her where she had been, she wanted to be able to give them honest details, and lying in the middle of the floor wasn’t one she wanted to share.

  Ember sat cross-legged and started her breathing exercises like Uncle Shad had taught her, trying to calm her heart and mind, just letting herself float for a moment as she gained her focus. When she felt ready, she opened her eyes and wondered what she should try first. She had no idea what her capabilities were, so she wasn’t sure where to start. Then an idea popped into her head.

  She knew a little of what she could do by the disaster she had caused. Her heart began to race just contemplating reproducing those results in a controlled environment. There was nothing green in the room with her—but there was a lot of stone.

  Trying not to think about what she was doing, Ember laid her palms flat on the floor, took a deep breath, and pushed. Her hands sank into the stone as if it were mud squishing between her fingers. She pulled them out, startled by the texture and slightly disgusted. She’d never been one to play in the mud. It surprised her to see she was shaking. She held her hands out before her and made the shaking stop. She just willed it so. and it happened. Startled, she inspected her fingers for any trace of the rock in which they’d just been immersed, but there was nothing but a light sparkly dust coating them.

  Gaining courage from the experiment, she did it again, pressing her palms into the stone until she was embedded wrist deep, then flexed and wiggled her fingers to see if the stone was still moldable. It was, and she pulled out a second time, wondering why the soapstone in class had exploded. It hadn’t felt like mud—it felt like she’d encased her hand in concrete. Did it have something to do with the type of stone?

  Curious, she stood and went to the wall, where a large vein of red gemstone ran in a strip from floor to ceiling. She touched the ruby-colored surface and tried to calm the shaking that plagued her once more. She was terrified of getting stuck and being unable to break free, and someone finding her in a week hanging dead from the wall. She shoved her overactive imagination aside. She could always call Uncle Shad with her mind if she found herself in a bad situation. She breathed deep, just like she had while sitting on the floor, then before she could think about it, she shoved her hands elbow-deep into the crystal and held her breath. Carefully she wiggled her fingers. A pop sounded from the crystal, but it too flowed around her hands like mud, though this muddy feeling was more like slick clay than regular common mud. Not as gritty.

  Ember pulled her hands out, relieved that the type of stone didn’t matter. If she could work with granite and crystal both, she imagined she could work through anything. She went back to the center of the room. Maybe the ability had more to do with her focus? Ember chewed at her lip, wondering how she could change her focus and replicate the experience she’d had in the orange room. Finally, she sank her hands into the floor and willed it to explode as she made a fist. The stone burst from the ground, little pebbles pinging off her face and body and the walls as she pulled her hands free from the holes she’d left in the floor. Her cheek stung and she had grit in her eyes, but inside, she was dancing. She’d done it! It really was a matter of will.

  Looking at the holes, suddenly her stomach clenched. So, she’d managed to destroy part of the room and blow up the floor, but could she put it back? Could she fix the damage she had done? Could she really sculpt stone like her father?

  Ember scooped the bits of stone she could find and put them back in the holes, then put her hand over the rubble and concentrated. Nothing happened. She put both hands over the holes and pushed harder, imagining the stone being whole, and once more nothing happened. The frustration started to build, but this time, rather than letting it go like she had in the past, she harnessed it, imagined it flowing through a nozzle, and gently reached down and touched the two mounds. The rubble began to light with an orange glow, much like that of coals burning in the night, but there was no heat—none that she could feel, anyway, though when she looked at her sleeves, they were definitely smoking. Ember jerked her hands back, afraid her clothing would catch fire. The orange glow dimmed, and Ember was stunned to see the holes almost completely filled with stone. If she hadn’t known her fists had just been there, she wouldn’t notice the slight depression where the edges had melted into smoothness.

  A wave of exhaustion washed over her, and she lay back down on the floor in the spread-eagle position she’d been in before, her heart beating so fast it seemed she’d just run a race. She closed her eyes and tried to slow her breathing when suddenly, she was out of her body, like she had been twice before. She looked at the cords that stretched out from her and decided to find out where they went. She touched one and felt Aldarin’s voice come through. He was concerned and looking for her. She definitely didn’t want to go there. The golden cord had a very distinctive DeMunth feel and he was still sleeping. The other white cords went to Tiva, Ren, her mother, and Ezeker, all of which she didn’t feel the urge to follow at the moment. That left only one. It was faint, a pale red, almost pink, that tore through the wall to her left like an arrow.

  When she touched it, there was a feeling of sadness and pain and a fury induced madness like none she’d ever known. It was so overpowering that she couldn’t help herself. She grabbed hold of that line and whipped through the wall and through several others before finding out who was on the other end.

  Ember found herself in a room somewhere far away from the busyness of the school. It was a small room, still in the caverns, with only red stone walls and a large stone bowl filled with water in the center of the room. Rahdnee knelt before the bowl while the voice and image of a woman berated him. It was a voice that sent terror through Ember, for it was a voice she knew very well.

  A voice that had haunted her dreams for as long as she could remember.

  C’Tan.

  “I am sick of your excuses, Rahdnee. Are you working for me? Or have you switched sides and begun working for Ezeker again?” the woman snarled. Rahdnee cringed, though whether in pain
or fear, Ember wasn’t sure. She was so stunned to see him there, she couldn’t move, could hardly breathe, for fear C’Tan would see her, even in her ghostly form. Ezeker had, so she wasn’t sure who else might.

  “I serve you, Mistress. Always you.” His voice was not scared, like Ember had assumed, but instead was full of adoration and a hint of sadness. Evidently C’Tan had a strong hold on him.

  “Then why do you consistently fail me? I’ve told you to turn the girl to our side or bring her to me to be sealed in the altar. Why is she not yet in my care?” C’Tan’s voice was nearly a snarl.

  Rahdnee again curled forward, this time in obvious pain. Somehow C’Tan was hurting him, even from far away. “I’m working on it, Mistress. They’ve assigned me as her guardian until her true guardian heals. I’m doing the best I can.”

  Again, a wave of cold chills settled over Ember. They were talking about her. C’Tan was still after her, just as her mother had always feared.

  Rahdnee continued. “I’ve raised your child, haven’t I? What more can I do to prove my loyalty?”

  Ember stopped cold and replayed in her head what he had just said. He’d raised her child? The wheels turned and Ember suddenly realized what that meant.

  Lily was not just Rahdnee’s daughter. She was C’Tan’s. Her roommate was the child of her greatest enemy.

  At that revelation, Ember fled back to her body. The instant she was back in her form, she ran to the door, which opened at her touch, then raced down the halls, through the portals, and without thinking, found herself in the healer hall at DeMunth’s side. She felt safe with him, even if he was in no condition to protect her. She knew she should go straight to Ezeker and tell him what she had learned, but she didn’t dare leave at the moment. What if Rahdnee was out there? Or Lily? Or Brendae, for that matter? If the other two were in collusion with C’Tan, it would make sense that Brendae would be as well. No wonder Markis hated Lily so much. Somehow he knew. Ember’s heart softened toward him, though fear still held her captive.

  Instead of doing what she knew she should, she pulled up a chair and held DeMunth’s hand, her heart still racing with all the discoveries and the new threat to her. Instead of telling Ezeker, she leaned forward and told DeMunth all about it. When she was finished, the Armor of Light flashed bright and he squeezed her hand, as if he had heard every single word. He struggled to open his eyes, and for just a moment, they focused and locked on hers. “I’m here, Ember,” he whispered. “Stay with me.” He quickly fell back into his deep sleep, but Ember felt comforted by just that little bit of interaction with him. She leaned forward, wrapped her arms around his stomach, and laid her head on his shoulder, wanting to feel as close to him as possible.

  She was still in that position when she fell asleep.

  Chapter Seventeen

  In Kayla’s mind, it should have taken but a few minutes to hitch Brant’s horse to the boxcar and be on their way, but it was several hours before they were ready to go. T’Kato insisted that they each play their role to perfection, which of course consisted of instructions from him as well as dressing the part and adding face paint where necessary. The princes were not happy about the last, but since they were part of the entertainment, it was essential.

  What was not required was for T’Kato to use semi-permanent ink to paint tattoos all over their bodies. Evidently he had some hard feelings where his wife’s brothers were concerned as well. It was all Kayla could do not to laugh when they washed their hands and realized they were stuck with the skin decorations for a few weeks at the very least.

  Brant had to dress like a tough bodyguard, which basically meant an entire change of clothes and a tight-fitting leather cap, all of which Hadril and Graylin had in their boxcar. Kayla’s fiancé was also told to let his facial hair grow, much to his displeasure.

  Kayla’s costume required the least work of all. She wore what she had on and left the flowers in her hair. The only addition was several bracelets and anklets that sounded like seashells clacking together as she moved. The brothers, Hadril and Graylin, wanted her to go barefoot, but T’Kato insisted she wear the boots he and Sarali had sized for her. She was grateful for that. Her feet were too soft to walk barefoot. She was already paying the price for running around that morning with no shoes, trying to stop the boys from killing each other.

  Finally it was time to go. Jihong and Niefusu each climbed into a chariot led by a waterhorse. T’Kato rode up front with the sulky boy who drove the horses. Kayla had yet to learn his name. She and Brant had the pleasure of sitting on the tailgate of the wagon and watching the road fall away behind them as they began to move. Niefusu eyed them for a while until Brant took her hand, his fingers interlocked with hers, and stared at the prince until he moved ahead off the road and passed the wagon to ride in the front.

  Brant still didn’t release her hand. Not for many hours, and by the time they pulled into the next village, her fingers were numb and she was irritated by his posessiveness. Didn’t he know she was committed to him?

  Evidently not.

  Just as she was about to hop off the back of the wagon, the boy who had been driving the horses was flung out the back of the boxcar by Hadril.

  “You’re worthless, Jayden! I’ve been teaching you this stuff for months now. How many times do I have to tell you not to combine the sheepsmith with the steelwort? It’s poison! If you weren’t my sister’s kit, I’d send you packing right now.” Kayla turned to look up at Hadril. His fury was obvious in his stance and the trembling he seemed too angry to hide. The boy, Jayden, picked himself up from the dirt and glared at his uncle. His lip had split open in the fall and a trail of blood ran down his chin and dripped onto his shirt. He didn’t seem to notice.

  Hadril growled and threw his hands in the air. “I can’t get any kind of good help around here,” he grumbled under his breath. “Doesn’t anybody know anything about herbs anymore? And here I’ve got this huge order for the Dellian and I’ve got little to show for it. I’ll be up all night at this rate. Stupid kit,” he grumbled, slamming things around the counter.

  Jihong stopped his chariot and got out. He walked to the boy and put his hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay?” he asked in a low voice. The boy didn’t answer, still frozen in anger. Jihong pushed a rag into his hand. “You might need this for your lip.” That got Jayden’s attention and he wiped the blood away, and glanced at Jihong, but he didn’t move.

  Handing the reins of the chariot to Brant, Jihong hopped up into the boxcar and approached Hadril. Kayla knew Brant well enough to know he had no idea what to do with directing a team of horses. He was a one horse man, But at least taking the reins made him let go of Kayla’s hand. She stood and hopped down from the wagon, but still she heard Jihong speak to the apothecary. “I know a bit about herbs, sir,” he said.

  Hadril was quiet for a moment, and Kayla turned to watch them, curious, though she still neither liked nor trusted the prince. “Really? Show me,” Hadril said.

  “What would ye like me to make?” Jihong said. The tinkling of glass followed his words.

  “A love potion.”

  Jihong laughed. “There’s no such thing.”

  Hadril cocked his head and smiled. “Good. You do know a bit. How about making a healing potion for the lung sickness?”

  Jihong was quiet for a moment. “There is no cure, but there is a syrup that can ease the symptoms. Is that what ye wish?” he asked.

  The apothecary had a full smile now. “Oh, aye. Make me a bit of that and I’ll make you my apprentice. I’ll even pay you a bit.”

  Jihong shook his head. “Money is of no concern, sir. But I’d be happy to help ye. What be the point in knowing about a thing if ye can’t use it?”

  The boxcar was mostly dark, only a small lamp lighting the space, but Jihong seemed busy combining ingredients into a cauldron and boiling it over a mage-heated stone.

  “Kayla,” T’Kato said from behind her. Kayla squeaked and turned around to face him.


  “Don’t do that! You scared me!” she said, her heart still racing.

  T’Kato chuckled. “Good. You need to be more aware of your surroundings.”

  Kayla wanted to hit him, but she knew it would do no good. “What do you need?” she asked instead.

  “Your sheath, if you don’t mind. The one your father gave you,” he said without any kind of apology.

  Tears sprang instantly to her eyes, but she didn’t let them fall. “Why?”

  “You’ll get it back,” he said, putting a heavy hand on her shoulder. “You have my word.”

  She didn’t want to give it to him. It was not only very valuable, but it was one of the only things she had of her father’s. And yet she found herself digging in her bag and handing it to the large man. Before she let go, she asked, “I have your word? I’ll get it back?”

  He nodded, then put his right hand to his shoulder and bowed. “On my honor, Lady Kayla. It shall be returned.”

  Somehow the gesture made her feel much better, though letting go of the gem-encrusted leather was like letting go of her heart.

  Jayden stared at the sheath with hungry eyes. He’d probably never seen anything so magnificent. Kayla didn’t blame him and let all thought of him leave her head as she turned back to the boxcar at Hadril’s chuckle. “Well done, my boy! Well done! We may get that order finished after all!” He put his hands on Jihong’s shoulders and squeezed. Jihong didn’t even flinch. “Thank you, prince. I know you don’t have to do this, but I appreciate it beyond words.”

  Jihong seemed a little embarrassed. “Just Jihong, sir. I be no prince here, and happy to be helping.”

  Hadril laughed again. “Well then, let’s get to work!” He turned his attention to the boy. “Jayden! You are now official driver to the boxcar. I’ve got a new apprentice.”

 

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