The stairwell was dark. Giorge’s echoing footfalls were like the distant, rhythmic slapping of waves on the shore. She would have to run to catch up with him, and her lungs ached from the sharp, biting sting of the smoke she had been breathing. She started crawling up the stair, fumbling at each step. As she went, her pace quickened. Periodically, she brought the magic into focus. The bubble of flame magic was growing, expanding outward from the nexus. She needed to hurry, but running blind up the stair would invite death. There were a few hints of the magic she knew, but they were quickly devoured by the nexus’s flame. If she could only move faster…
Lamplight, she thought, coming to an abrupt stop and lifting herself to her knees. If she could see, she could run instead of crawling blindly upward. She reached out for one of the thinner streams of flame magic—it was as wide as her hand!—and held it firmly in her grip. Her fingers were accustomed to tying together thin strands, but the knots should be the same. Lamplight was a simple spell that only had one knot. She began to tie it, but long before she finished, the strand of flame began to glow, as if its power were building up between the crimps she was making in it. She almost stopped, but Giorge’s echoed footsteps were now only barely discernible. He was near the top of the stair, and if she couldn’t catch up with him, he would escape with The Tiger’s Eye. She twisted the vibrating strand, and it brightened almost to the point of the Lamplight’s glow, despite the knot being incomplete. She held her hands as far away from her as she could and made the final movements.
An orb twice the size of the Lamplight flared to life between her hands. It was much brighter than it should have been—and much hotter. But she had been prepared for that, and as soon as it formed, she attached it to the wall of the stair and let go. Even so, a searing pain spread over her palm. She lifted her hand, but her palm wasn’t blistering—yet—and she didn’t have time to concern herself with it even if it was. She ran up the stair, shaking her hand as she gasped for breath. She didn’t make it very far before she was winded and had to slow down to breathe.
The echo of Giorge’s footsteps was gone.
4
Giorge kept himself in shape and was accustomed to running when the need for it arose, and under normal conditions—darting down alleys and side streets, fleeing through grain fields, or even loping up or down the rough slope of a mountain—his endurance was up to the task. But running up a steep, spiraling stairwell with a candle in his hand that was burning through the wax like a torch was taxing his reserves. By the time he neared the top, his breath was coming in soft pants and his side was beginning to ache. He stumbled, tumbled to avoid banging his chin against the pointed edge of the stair, and fell face first lengthwise along the step. The next rise brought him painfully to a stop, and he moaned. He took in deep, painful breaths and exhaled them more sharply than he intended. It was dark. He had dropped the candle when he had slapped downward to lift his head above the step. He was close to the top—he had seen the rim before tripping himself up—and he began to crawl. His bruised body felt heavy as he trudged forward. Then a bonfire blossomed to life beneath him, sending an eerie orange-red glow up through the stairwell. It was just enough light to see where one shadow ended and another began.
Embril…
Giorge forced himself to his feet and clambered unsteadily up the final score of steps. It was far darker in the octagonal room, since Embril’s light didn’t reach far beyond the lip of the stairwell. But Giorge knew where he was and where he was going, and what little light it offered was more than enough for him to avoid running into the wall or falling down the stair. His sensitive fingertips found Darby’s rope dangling where they had left it. It was far from the first time he lurked in shadows with only a rope to guide himself up a wall, and it went quickly. He even remembered to duck in the tunnel so he didn’t bang his head on the ceiling. Then he paused with the rope in his hand. If I bring this up, it will delay her pursuit. But what if she doesn’t have the means to get out? She could end up like the Angst priests…. He reeled in the rope slowly at first, and then with definitiveness. She’s a witch. If she doesn’t have a spell that can save her, it’s her own fault. He tossed the rope aside and scampered down the tunnel, feeling his way as his hands brushed lightly against the tunnel’s narrow walls.
At the end, he pulled himself up through the trapdoor and felt his way along the wall until he was outside the little room. If I reset the trapdoor, he thought, she’ll have to push it open. It’s heavy enough that she might not be able to do it quickly…. He felt along the corridor wall until he found the sconce. He pushed it upward to reset the trapdoor. Then he retraced the route outside by feel, until he saw diffuse sunlight and ran toward it. It was the room where Angus had burned the hole through the ceiling. He made his way outside and shielded his eyes against the glare. It wasn’t enough; there was too much rubble that could trip him up. He had to wait a few seconds for his eyes to adjust. When they had, he was breathing normally, and the ache in his side had subsided to a mere twinge. He hurried forward and clambered over the rubble in the temple grounds.
If Embril catches me…
He hopped from stone to stone as he scrambled over the wall and paused at the top to find the horses. They were grazing on the trampled grain, and he gave the sharp whistle of summons the guardsmen tended to use. They turned and hurried toward him as he made his way down the rubble heap and up to the matted-down grain fields. They were both glad to see him, but he didn’t have time for greetings. He needed to get as far away from Embril as possible, and he climbed into the saddle of the horse Embril had enchanted with the Swiftness spell. If it was like the other spells she had cast, it still had a day and a half left. He kneed it into a full gallop, and the other horse whinnied in alarm and followed after them. He frowned and reined in his horse. There was no way the other beast could keep pace with him, but the stupid brute would die trying. Where could he leave it? He looked back at the temple grounds. There were already wisps of smoke seeping out of the ruins. How long before the whole thing was roiling with it? Embril had said there would be volcanic eruptions all along the mountain ranges….
Embril could appear at any moment. He didn’t want to leave her unable to escape from the volcano, but…
She could fly. Fast. She would catch up to him if he didn’t get going. He turned and rode hard for the gap that would lead him to safety. The other horse kept up as best it could.
5
“Tell me what you know,” Grand Master Fredrick said as they hastened down another corridor.
Where do I begin? Angus wondered as he watched the Grand Master reach into his sleeve and bring out a large, enormously complicated key. “I found the nexus last fall,” he began. “It was in a tunnel complex below the ruins of an Angst temple.” He paused for a moment as the Grand Master stopped in front of the door and placed the key against the lock. The lock was a fraction of the size of the key, but as he watched, the key shrunk and the lock expanded until they matched sizes. “We had gone there looking for The Tiger’s Eye, a mythical gem of extraordinary value. I found it. It was the focal point of the nexus.”
The door opened, and Grand Master Fredrick led him into the chamber beyond. He turned to close the door, and then stepped up to what looked like a blank wall. “Follow me,” he said, reaching up for something Angus couldn’t see.
Angus focused on the magic and noted there was a spell similar to the one Voltari used to travel through his tower. The Grand Master snagged a braided strand of magic between his fingertips and teased one of the strands loose with a free finger. The next moment, he was gone. Angus reached out and mimicked the Grand Master’s movements as precisely as he could, and a moment later the room disappeared and he found himself surrounded by darkness—except for the vibrant array of magical strands.
“Continue,” the Grand Master said into the stillness.
“I knew if anyone else found out The Tiger’s Eye existed, it would be taken and the nexus would be lost. I—”
He paused, remembering the temptation, the fear that the nexus had offered him. “I was tempted to take it myself,” he half-whispered, “but could not do so. I ran from it.” He shook his head. “I had to tell my companions about the nexus in order to protect it. I did not tell them everything; I told them just enough for them to realize how dangerous the nexus was for them. Fortunately, none of the others had seen The Tiger’s Eye, or they would have taken it then. They do not understand magic.”
“You think they went back for it?” the Grand Master asked.
“No,” Angus said. “There was a small group of fishmen at the ruins, and Commander Garret planned to send a patrol to them this spring. We were supposed to go with them, but we were delayed. I did not expect that delay, but I had prepared for it. I left a letter with a trusted friend, and she went with them in my stead.” He paused, closed his eyes, and pushed away the feeling of betrayal that threatened to overwhelm him yet again.
“Embril,” Grand Master Fredrick said. “You told her of the nexus?” He paused and asked, “Why did you not tell me?”
Angus sighed. “I could not risk it,” he said. “The power of a nexus is too tempting, too dangerous. You might think it something you could control.”
There was a rustle of cloth as the Grand Master moved. “Perhaps I would have,” he admitted, “as Embril appears to have done.”
“That is what troubles me,” Angus said, fighting against the heaviness of his voice. “I find it difficult to believe that she would have done so. She knows the risks involved. But I can find no other explanation for it.”
They stood in silent darkness for several seconds, and then Grand Master Fredrick said, “There. Did you see it?”
Angus frowned. There had been a slight ripple of energy following one of the strands of magic, but it wasn’t unusual; fluctuations like that were rare, but they did happen.
“It is beginning,” the Grand Master said. His robe rustled as he turned. “I must assign one of the Masters to observe our nexus. The network has a delicate balance, and the removal of a nexus point will have a widespread impact. The fluctuations in the magical energy travel from one nexus to another, and if there is a significant disruption in the flow of magic, it could lead to the failure of other nexus points—and the network as a whole.”
And a new Age of Chaos will ensue, Angus thought as he studied the magic for another surge, another wavering.
“We must return now,” the Grand Master said. “My dinner is waiting for me. Pluck this strand.” He paused and then asked, “Do you see it?”
Angus studied the magic until he noticed the braided strand. He followed the braid with his eyes until he saw an isolated strand bobbing up and down. “Yes,” he said, and the strand twisted, resumed its original braided shape, and grew still. He moved up to it and plucked it the way he thought the Grand Master had done. A moment later, he was in the gloomy little room, following the Grand Master out the door.
6
Embril staggered out of the stairwell and collapsed on the hard stone floor. She could barely breathe, but the chill was a blessing after clambering out of the chimney-like stairwell. She stayed there for several seconds before her aching lungs stopped protesting, and then she rolled over. There was a sepulchral, unnatural red-black glow above her that reminded her of the heat building beneath her. It would overtake her soon, just as the smoke had overtaken the ceiling. It wasn’t lingering there, either; a fast-moving eddy was dragging a black, roiling funnel with it. The trapdoor, she thought, crawling after the eddy until she bumped into the wall. She felt around for several seconds, but—
Giorge took the rope! How could he trap me like this? she thought fiercely before setting aside her surprise and anger. I should have expected it, she reminded herself. Anyone who could take The Tiger’s Eye is capable of anything. I have to stop him! She forcibly relaxed her fingers and brought the magic into focus. The glare of the swarming flame magic below her hadn’t quite overwhelmed the rest of the magic here. There were strands from the other forms of magic, but they were fluctuating, as if they were trying to escape from the flames with her. She reached for a strand of air, and it wriggled in her grasp like a fish trying to get back into the water. It was difficult to bend it to her will, and it struggled to break free of the knots she forced upon it as soon as they were tied. She had never seen magic so unruly, so wild, and a sudden, intense fear fell upon her. What if all magic was like this? What would happen to the spells already cast? She gasped. The dome!
Embril finished the spell and took a very deep breath before using the air magic to lift herself up into the eddy of smoke. She felt it swirling past her, and closed her eyes against the acrid, burning sensation it brought. She followed the eddy into the trapdoor, down the tunnel, and up. The smoke spread out rapidly in the room, and the current almost disappeared. She exhaled and dropped to the floor, letting go of the air magic as she gasped for breath. It was dark, but air whistled into and out of the room somewhere. She crawled toward the cool breeze and out into the corridor beyond. She paused outside the door to orient herself, but there was something wrong. By her reckoning, she should turn left out of the room, but the cool air was blowing in from the right. Why? She closed her eyes, retraced her steps, and smiled to herself. She had come out the other trapdoor.
She stood up and turned right, feeling her way quickly through the corridors until she saw a dappling of sunlight. She hurried up to it and stopped. Would Giorge be lying in wait for her? Or would he have fled by now? She slid forward and glanced out into the charred room. There were fresh marks in the old soot, and they were leading away from her. She followed them through the room and looked over the temple grounds before hurrying across them and up to the rubble where the outer wall had collapsed. She cautiously climbed to the top on her hands and knees, stood up, and looked around. If only she knew what to look for in the trampled grain fields! But she wasn’t a tracker, and there was no point in wishful thinking.
The horses were nowhere to be seen. She whinnied softly, but they didn’t answer her call. Then she heard a far-off, frantic little whinny and turned toward it. What she saw horrified her. Giorge was riding up to the summit at a remarkable pace—Swiftness, she thought with frustration—and had left Darby’s horse behind at the base of the road. He had hobbled it, and it was tripping over itself trying to follow him. Fresh anger swarmed through her—just in time to see Giorge rein in his horse at the summit. He looked at her for a few seconds, and then disappeared over the rise.
Embril had one thought: She had to help the horse before it killed or maimed itself. Giorge could wait. She couldn’t catch up with him now, anyway. She needed to get to the horse, first. It was on her way, and she would need the supplies Darby had brought with him. How to reach it, though?
She brought the magic into focus and was appalled to see the streams of flame rippling up all around her, as if she were standing on a dome that was about to burst. Her eyes widened, and she let the magic fade for a moment. I’m in a caldera, she thought. It was a pristine thought, an insight so profoundly certain that it was untouched by the terror that would soon follow. How long before it bursts? Streams of smoke were already rising, and the heat she had felt below was starting to seep out around her. She had to get out of the valley—and quickly.
She brought the magic into focus and reached for another unwilling strand of air, tenaciously forcing it to her will and holding it there while she tied the knots together. As she flew toward the horse, the strand flexed and pulled against her knots, buffeting her about. She put everything out of her mind except the task of keeping them together long enough for her to reach the horse. She flew low above the matted grain, willing the knots to hold despite the knowledge that they wouldn’t. But as she flew further from the disruption of the nexus, the strands became less unruly. They were still far from tame, but it was easier to manage them.
The horse whinnied as she approached and fought against its hobbles in its frantic need for reassu
rance and companionship. She landed close to it, and tried to soothe the beast with soft words as she hurried up to it. It gave her an energetic head butt, nearly knocking her down, and she patted its sweat-soaked neck. How could he run you so hard! she thought with disgust as she tried to comfort the panicked beast. When it finally calmed down enough, she bent down to remove the hobbles and left the foul things where they landed. Then she wormed her way into the saddle and guided the beast up the road at a quick walk.
When she reached the summit, she paused to look back. Smoke whispered from the ruins of the Angst temple, and it seemed to her like it was sagging into the ground. It could be a trick of the eyes, but she didn’t think so. She knew what was happening beneath it: the rocky foundation was melting.
She turned her horse and kneed it to a gallop. It was not the best thing for the overwrought beast, but it was better than falling prey to the volcano when it erupted. Besides, the further away from the nexus’s influence she got, the better her chances were of finding magic that she could use to cast her spells.
Giorge was already well out of sight.
7
Giorge paused at the summit to turn around and look at the Angst temple one last time. He was relieved to see Embril had made it out of the ruins, but he knew she wouldn’t believe that. Why should she? He had done the very thing she had come here to prevent: he had taken The Tiger’s Eye from its proper place. The volcano didn’t like it. Smoke fizzled up from its bowels, and it wouldn’t be long before the lava followed. But why had he done it? He hadn’t even thought about taking it until—
Angst (Book 4) Page 15