The Armor of Light

by Karen E. Hoover

  Mahal looked troubled by the last. “Shadow people? The shadow weavers are here, you say?”

  Ember nodded.

  Mahal was silent for a long moment. “That magic was banned long ago. It does not come of the light nor of The Guardians. It comes from the darkness of the universe. The Destroyer, S’Kotos, taps into that power to some extent, though this does not feel like it comes from him. I need to learn more. Could you bring the prisoner here to me? Would that be at all possible, so that I may study him?”

  Ember wasn’t sure, but she would promise this Guardian anything. Not only was he the equivalent of a god, but he was willing to teach her. She’d do anything for him. She nodded her head. “When do you want him?”

  He tapped his lip in thought. “As soon as possible. Perhaps tonight or tomorrow?”

  Ember’s stomach jumped. She’d have to get permission or map out a way to steal the man from his cell. It wouldn’t be easy either way, but she had agreed. She’d figure it out.

  “Now,” Mahal said, rubbing his hands together. “Time to work. Let’s see what you can do with this.” From the air, the Guardian pulled an animal Ember had never seen before. It looked to be a cross between a ram and a lion with taloned wings. The beast screeched at her and lunged. Ember’s heart raced in her chest and she switched to wolf form. Mahal froze the creature in place and got up from the invisible stool.

  “No, child, you must battle with your magic, not your genetics. Come back to human form and try again.” He scratched her behind the ears to take away the sting and sat back down.

  Ember transitioned back to human, getting tired from all the changing, and thought for a moment on how to defend herself. She had no weapons. Nothing but the bits of rubble strewn around the room, all things that had once been pieces of the keystones. That gave her an idea and she raced around the room, gathering them up before Mahal released the creature.

  It seemed strange for Mahal to start her off on such a dangerous level, but thus far, all the magic she’d been able to do had been when she’d had strong emotions and felt threatened, so maybe this was where she needed to learn—instinctively and through action. Hopefully, the easier stuff would come somewhere along the way.

  Mahal nodded, and immediately the beast snarled and screeched at her again. Ember’s heart raced, the adrenaline flooding through her like a tsunami. Not sure what to do, she reached out, one of the plugs from the blue keystone in her hand, and touched the beast on the head just before it snapped at her. The animal stilled, air rushing around it like a windstorm that only surrounded the beast. Ember wanted to pick up an orange keystone and try something with change, but there was no orange rubble.

  Instead, she reached out with the color of white and felt the other colors streaming into her as she calmed the beast. She had no desire to injure it. It had no understanding of what Mahal wished to use it for, and it attacked in fear. Ember touched its beak, then followed the neck and the wings and then to the tail, and as she did so, the animal divided. It became its three individual parts, rather than the mish-mash of animals it had been before.

  A lion, a ram, and a great eagle all stared at her, gratitude and understanding in their eyes. The beasts all turned back to Mahal, who was chuckling at her success.

  “Ember, I’d like you to meet three of the original hundred guardians who fell to this earth to try to heal her when she nearly exploded on us. An evil mage merged them together centuries ago, and you just freed them.” The lion bowed to her, one leg extended. The ram bowed his head. The eagle spread his wings and meowed. The last surprised Ember. An eagle meowing? But that was the best word she could use for the sound that came from the beast. They turned back to Mahal, who waved his hand, and the three animals disappeared. Ember was surprised. She hadn’t meant to do anything—she was just trying to protect herself, and the magic led her in what to do.

  Mahal must have heard her thoughts, for he answered as if she had spoken aloud. “Therein lies the greatest secret to white magic. It will lead you if you listen. Your emotions are a catalyst, touch is the trigger, but what you do beyond that is led by the magic. You can’t tear it apart and analyze it. There are no specific spells. White magic is about trust more than anything. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  Ember nodded. “I think so, sir.” It was slowly sinking in that there was no guidebook to being a white mage, which made her feel bad that Tyese was still looking for a solution for her. When she left this place, she’d have to be sure to tell the girl to give up the search. Ember’s kind of magic appeared to be all trial and error. That overwhelmed her more than anything—she wouldn’t know what she could do until she did it—but it was also very freeing. She didn’t have to take classes. Didn’t even need to be at the mage school, really, except that she would still like to look through the library and see if she couldn’t find some white mage’s journal. His experiences might teach her something. Maybe Tyese would still be helpful after all, since Ember was banned from the library.

  “Now, another task for you. See if you can do it. Go and get the prisoner you nearly killed and bring him to me. Get past the guards. Don’t ask permission. Just do it and bring him here without getting caught. Are you ready for the challenge?”

  Ember wanted to say “No.” Actually, she wanted to ask him if he was crazy, but that would be a stupid question, so she nodded reluctantly.

  “Great! Then go now. You needn’t walk through the stone. Just picture yourself where you want to be and you shall arrive there. Have you seen the prisons?”

  Ember shook her head, not trusting herself to speak. “Hmmm, that is unfortunate. But you do know what this man looks like, yes?”

  Ember nodded.

  Mahal smiled, satisfied. “Then focus on that man in as much detail as you can and take yourself there. You can do this. It is part of your power.”

  Ember was doubtful. So much of what she had tried over the past few days had resulted in failure or disaster. What if she focused on this man and made him explode instead? What if she got stuck somewhere along the way and ended up trapped, like one of the mountain’s victims? But if she couldn’t trust a guardian, who could she trust?

  In the end she had to try.

  Ember thought perhaps the man might be more cowed and cooperative if she were wolven, so she changed back to her other form. Her stomach growled from all the extra energy expenditure. Once transformed, she sat on her haunches and concentrated on the man, specifically on the green and yellow band she’d somehow placed around his throat. When she had the picture of him firmly in her mind, she wished herself there, reaching toward him as best she could.

  The connection between them snapped tight, like a fishing line caught in the mouth of a bass. The analogy worked for Ember, for once she felt the line catch, she “Reeled him in,” pulling on the line and feeling as if she were moving through a very slow portal. She held her breath, her heart pounding in her ears, until she felt the line go slack and she opened her eyes.

  She was there. In the room, alone with him. He stared at her with wide eyes, but couldn’t yell. Her spell or the ripping of his throat had taken his voice and he could do nothing but scramble into the corner of the room and cower away from her. He darted toward the door, but Ember headed that off quickly. The last thing she needed was for him to pound on it and alert the guards. Instead, she moved to the doorway and snarled at him, then backed him into a corner. He was so terrified, he wet himself. Ember could smell it on him and it disgusted her, but then in a moment of clarity, she realized he was beyond terrified. She had very nearly killed him, then brought him back to this miserable existence. He had to be wondering if she’d come to finish the job. Maybe coming in wolf form was a bad idea. Ember sighed, sat back on her haunches, and changed back to her human form. First her body stretched upward, her clothing falling back into place as the fur disappeared. Then her face changed back to normal, and her tail receded, which always hurt, no matter how many times she did it. And finally, her
limbs and paws became normal hands, legs, and arms.

  Once the transformation was complete, she stood, her spine popping back into place as she rolled her shoulders. The man relaxed a little, but not much, his eyes burning with hate as he saw her as her true self once again.

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” she said. “But you do need to take a little trip with me. Somebody wants to see you.” She walked slowly toward him. When she got within reaching distance, he swiped out with a leg and knocked her down, then jumped on her and put an arm against her throat. She could see in his eyes that he meant to kill her.

  Ember’s initial reaction was to panic. She bucked against the man, trying to get some leverage, but he only pushed harder. Spots began to speckle her vision, and she knew if she didn’t do something soon, she would be dead. She wasn’t strong enough to throw him off or beat him physically. She could transform into a wolf again, but that would make her smaller than him still, and despite her teeth, she didn’t feel that was the answer. There was one weapon left to her, and it was one she had no choice whether to use or not.

  Her vision growing dim, Ember found the centered storm inside her and did as Mahal said—she called on her magic.

  She closed her eyes so as not to be distracted by the spots and darkness. The pressure on her neck and in her chest was already distraction enough. Instead, she dove into the maelstrom of magic swirling inside of her and instinctively pulled on colors she knew she would need. Combining them, she gathered, just as she had with Lily in the practice room, then reached up and put a hand against his chest. To her surprise, he did not go flying across the room. Instead, her hand sank wrist-deep into his chest. She could feel his heart fluttering against her fingertips.

  The man stilled, horror in his eyes as he looked down at her arm sticking out of his chest. The pressure on her neck let up a bit. Ember coughed, then sucked in a deep breath, never taking her eyes from his. When she had enough air to speak, she said, “I am not going to hurt you. You’ve got to believe me.”

  The man glanced down at her arm, then met her eyes with one eyebrow cocked. It was obvious he had no faith in her word.

  She slowly pulled her hand out of his chest, not sure how she did it, just grateful that she could. Surprisingly, there was no blood on her hand, just a clear fluid. He backed away from her once again.

  At that moment, there came a banging on the door. “Ember! Ember, I know you’re in there! We need to talk. Quit running away from me,” DeMunth’s voice yelled as somebody came toward the door with jangling keys.

  Ember swore. “How does he keep finding me?” she said aloud.

  With no time to spare, she grabbed the prisoner by his collar and concentrated on going back to Mahal. The keys turned in the door, distracting her focus, and the door flew open. DeMunth, Aldarin, and two guards raced into the room. Ember felt the hook of magic sink into the spherical room. She felt the line go taut, and she pulled with all her strength.

  Ember felt bad that not only had she failed Mahal’s instructions to not get caught, but she’d just left DeMunth without an explanation—again. The hurt look on his face as she faded away was heartbreaking. She cared so much for him. How could she tell him she was doing this at the behest of a Guardian? When all this was done, she really owed him an explanation, and only hoped he would believe her.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Jihong. Kayla stared at the prince, irritated that he chose now of all times to appear. This was her time with Brant, without interference, and here was one of her greatest enemies who’d been forced to pose as her defender. She said nothing. No words of welcome, no greeting, no telling him to leave. She just stared.

  There was something different about him, a subtle antagonism that had been missing since he’d challenged her in his father’s throne room. It made her nervous and her only thought, silly though it may have sounded, was to protect Brant. She finally broke the silence.

  “What do you want?” she snarled, glancing behind her. Brant was gone, probably headed back into the woods to retrieve more wood. The man was nothing if not efficient.

  She turned her back on Jihong for only a second, but before she could face him again, something stabbed her in the back of the neck—something that froze her in place, standing, unable to lift a hand or do anything more than blink her eyes. Panic set in, and if she’d been able to move, she would have run screaming. As it was, all she could do was scream inside at the excruciating pain in the back of her neck and feel the sweat form in her hair and slide down her body.

  Jihong came up close behind her and whispered in her ear. “I be wanting the same thing I’ve always wanted—the flute. ‘Tis unfortunate that last night’s retrieval didn’t work. Ye must give me the flute, for I cannot take it for meself. The instrument will not have me.” He took her shoulders and twisted her around. Now, what would it be taking to have ye give over the flute? A threat to yer own self does not do it. Ye proved that in the battle under the sea. Ye gave it to me for a wee moment when T’Kato asked ye to heal the horse, and I should have taken it then. Foolish me.” He walked around to face her, his footsteps light in the grass. “So it occurred to me that maybe if I threatened the one ye love most in this world, that might get ye to give up the flute.” His grin was evil as he pulled a long blow gun from his side and loaded it with long spines.

  Kayla stared at them, terrified, but she could do nothing. Was that what he had stuck in her neck? Jihong caught her staring. “I’d guess ye’d be wondering about these, wouldn’t ye?”

  She would have nodded if she could. He must have seen that in her eyes. “These be from the stonefish. Nasty beasts they be, though peaceful if ye leave them alone. But step on the spines at their tail, and yer in for a surprise. Many a man—and woman and child—have died from these spines.” He continued to load the blow gun. “Paralysis. Seizures. Pain like ye’ve never felt afore. Death. Oh yes, they’re mighty powerful weapons.” He loaded the last spine, then lifted the blow gun to his shoulder. It looked like a long, hollow stick. “The spine I gave ye be the least of them. It will hold ye in place long enough for ye to watch me kill yer man.”

  He walked away, and inside, Kayla’s mind raced. Jihong planned to kill Brant, and there was nothing she could do. She was frozen, stuck in place by his quill, and all she could do was watch. She couldn’t even whistle to awaken the flute.

  Jihong marched across the field and to the trees lining the edge of the meadow. He put plugs in each end of his dart gun, tucked the stick in the strap of his bag, and began to climb. Not far up, he found the perfect limb on which to lie and wait for Brant.

  He didn’t have long. Kayla heard Brant’s whistling before she saw him, and the panic within her grew until she thought she would pass out, her heart beat so hard. She had to warn him. She had to save him, but how? What could she do?

  She remembered being under the ocean and using the flute’s power without the flute itself, and she wondered if she could do the same again.

  Kayla closed her eyes and reached out to the flute. She could feel its sapphire glow across the meadow near her sleeping place and felt it perk up at her request, but it didn’t respond.

  Brant was in sight now, just passing the edge of the trees and entering the field, his arms full of wood. He walked through the tall grass to the fire pit and set the pile down next to the others, then stood and brushed off his hands. He turned toward Kayla. “Well, it looks like that’s it. We’re ready to get supper started. What do you say?”

  Kayla didn’t answer. She couldn’t. She nearly trembled with the effort.

  Brant looked confused and then alarmed as he walked toward her. “Kayla? What’s wrong, my love?”

  Just then, a scream rang across the clearing and Brant spun, his hand immediately going to his sword hilt. Kayla wanted to close her eyes, for she knew what was coming next, but she couldn’t. In quick succession, faster than she could see, Jihong blew the darts one after another into Brant’s torso. The first one hit B
rant’s chest and he gasped, falling to one knee. The second and third hit him in the stomach, and he grunted, but didn’t move. Kayla hated to watch the rest, but had no choice. She heard them sink into his flesh.

  Jihong left the tree and ran across the clearing, pushing Brant to his back with one foot, then stood over him, chuckling. Kayla was furious at Jihong and terrified for Brant. If only she could get the flute to work for her again.

  Jihong looked at her then, his eyes cold. “What say ye now, Miss Kayla? Would ye give me the flute to save his life?” She wouldn’t answer even if she could. The prince laughed and walked to their fire pit, building it up like an expert, though she was too far away to feel the warmth.

  Brant lay on the ground gasping and groaning. She knew how badly her neck burned and could only imagine what it must feel like for him to have so many venomous spines in his torso. She had to save him. She had to. Jihong would only save him if she gave him the flute—what choice did she have? And yet, she had given her word to guard the flute with her life, if need be. Did that mean Brant had to give his life to protect it too? Oh, she was so confused.

  Jihong stood near the fire and faced her. He pulled a vial from his waistband. “Do ye know what this be?” His smug smile said much more than his mouth. “Here be the antidote for yer man. But choose quickly, lass. It must be used soon or he’ll begin to seize. Once that begins, ye’ll lose him. He be a dead man.” He walked around the fire, his eyes never leaving hers, then stopped with his back to the flame. “What do ye say? Will ye give me the flute, or lose yer man? The choice be yourn.”

  She inwardly screamed at the flute to wake up and hear her.

  Groggily, as if it were a child who slept too hard, the flute responded to her pleas. It awoke and attuned to her. Pull the spine out of my neck! she begged. For a moment it seemed baffled, and then with a will much like her own, she felt its power grasp the stonefish spine. The first movement sent waves of torment through her, but she was still frozen and could say nothing. She was grateful for that. If she could stay quiet, Jihong might not notice what was happening.