He accepted them with a rueful grin. “I don’t feel the cold, mistress. I’m fine as I am.”
At Kyla’s stern look he shrugged and put on the clothes. Marta watched with an expression of mingled awe and disappointment.
With food and water, with the wind at their backs, and with no infant to care for, the return to Rim Canyon was much easier than Kyla’s trek from the canyon to Line’s End had been. They reached the Rim in the late afternoon and stared down into the canyon. Shadows hid its depths, transforming it into a river of darkness.
“We can’t climb down in the dark,” Alair stated, his regret obvious. “We’ll have to make camp here and go down in the morning.”
Even in the dim light relief was evident on Marta’s face, but Kyla frowned. “Master Stebbins has probably sent a search party out to stop us. We’re well ahead of them, but if they use torches and hunt through the night, they’ll find us long before morning.”
Alair shook his head. “They won’t find us. I’ll set wards around our camp. It’s a power use I’d prefer to avoid, but for the little it will add to the imbalance you and Claid have already established, I won’t deny us safety.”
He busied himself with selecting a site for their camp and tracing sigils in the sand around it while he set Claid to building a fire. Claid quickly assembled a large bundle of dry brush. At a snap of his fingers it burst into flame. Kyla distinctly remembered his telling her he did not have the gift of creating a mage light. Kindling a fire could not be so different. Another thing Claid had lied about.
Although the wind had been blowing strongly from the north, the smoke went straight up as though passing through an invisible chimney. Alair’s wards barred even the wind; they would hide the fire from the searchers.
Marta, Kyla noticed, rarely took her eyes off Claid. Her avid gaze seemed to memorize his every action.
They settled around the fire and ate some of the provisions they’d brought from Master Stebbins’ store. Soon after, they bedded down for the night. Ruffian curled contentedly against Kyla. She stroked the dog’s fur and tried to banish the wish that it was Alair lying next to her. You’re a windspeaker, she reminded herself. If Mistress Forythe was right, you dare not have such thoughts.
His reaction to her mastery over the wind continued to haunt her. He’d been genuinely impressed with her power. More than that, he’d seen her as a woman and desirable. She liked that. Foolish of her, she knew, but the attraction she felt for him defied all logic. That glimpse of his human side, first revealed in Dannel, made her yearn for more.
It was a long time before she fell asleep.
She heard the whistle of the train, muted and made mournful by distance. Would the iron monster have been needed if magic had not been kept from this land? The soulless machines seemed a poor substitute, but maybe not. Only a very few could ride the wind, but the train would transport all who could pay the fare.
Maybe it was not only because of the mindstealers that Alair wanted to keep magic contained within the canyon. She had to break through the prideful barrier that made him so hard to talk to. She was still puzzling over a way to do that when sleep claimed her.
At dawn shouts awakened them. Several men fanned out along the edge of the canyon and peered into its depths. Marta shrank close to Claid. Kyla spotted Pete among the search party, and a few minutes later Ollie and Jake passed close by the camp. Fear twisted her gut. A hand fell on her shoulder; she jumped, looked up into Alair’s face.
He drew her against him. “They won’t hurt you again,” he said. “They can’t see us.”
She rested her head against his chest, absorbing his warmth, enjoying the sense of security imparted by being enclosed in his arms.
A word nagged at her—again? The suspicion that he knew of the brutal flogging she’d suffered and possibly could have spared her the ordeal drove her from his arms. “When can we start down into the canyon?” she asked.
“Not until the search party gives up and heads home,” he said. “I can’t dissolve the wards while they’re around.”
“I could hurry them on their way,” Claid suggested.
“You know I won’t permit that,” Alair said. “You’re to stay within the wards and behave yourself.”
Kyla’s exasperation drove her to cry out, “Why? Now that you’ve used your power here, would it do so much more damage to let Claid use his?”
“My power is his, mistress,” Claid said. “He fears to lose it.”
“Silence, wretch!” Alair’s voice boomed.
The searchers paused and looked up as though scanning for storm clouds. The fire flared and died. Ruffian threw back his head and howled. Marta grabbed the dog and hung on to him as if to anchor herself. Kyla caught a brief glimpse of a heavy chain stretching upward from Claid and disappearing into the winter haze overhead.
Aghast, Kyla moved quickly to Claid’s side, put her arm around his shoulders, and glared at Alair. How could she desire such a mercurial, dangerous man?
Alair’s haughty gaze pinioned her for a long moment. Then he spun around and strode to the edge of the warded area, where he stood looking out over the Rim, his back to her and Claid.
Kyla trembled with anger, but Claid chuckled. “Fortunate was the day you met us, mistress,” he said. “Before that day the master’s self-control never wavered. Now each time he loses his temper, the chain gains a bit more slack.”
“The chain—I saw it,” Kyla said. “Above you. What is it? What does it mean?”
“It means he holds me captive, as the shopkeeper held you and Marta. And it may be that as I freed you from your chains, you will free me from mine.”
With an oath Alair swung around and hurried toward them. “Mindstealers!” he shouted. “Swarming into the canyon. I’m too late!”
He clapped his hands, and Kyla felt a sudden inflow of icy air. Their bubble of safety had burst. With a shout two searchers headed toward them. Marta released Ruffian and sprang to her feet, her knife in her hand.
“Put that away,” Alair commanded. “You won’t need it. Claid!”
The mage flung out his cloak, and, with a transformation too swift to observe, leaped upward and took flight as a giant bird of prey. At the same time, Claid bounded forward, transforming into a great, maned fellcat. The bird plummeted toward the search party and drove them back, away from Kyla and Marta, away from the canyon. With a mighty roar, the fellcat charged, scattering the fleeing men.
“By all the gods!” Marta whispered, staring after them. “To think I doubted you!”
Kyla spotted Ollie and Jake scooting away with the lion at their heels. Only Pete stood his ground. He raised a double-barreled pistol, and took aim at the bird.
“Alair!” Kyla screamed.
With a deafening blast the pistol belched smoke and flame. The fellcat roared and vaulted toward Pete. The bird spiraled slowly to the ground.
Kyla raced toward Alair. Ruffian sped past her and reached him first. Her relief at seeing the mage hold on to the dog and pull himself to his feet vanished when she reached him and saw the red stain spreading down his side.
“I got careless—overconfident,” Alair confessed and accepted the shoulder she offered him to lean on. He grimaced. “No time for this. Where’s Claid?”
The fellcat trotted toward them, its muzzle bloodied. Ruffian barked frantically. The fellcat rose on its rear legs and reshaped itself.
“Here,” Claid said. “Ugh!” He spat. “That one tasted as foul as he acted. He shot you, master?”
“As you can see,” Alair snapped. “Lend me power for healing.”
Claid took a step backward. “I’ll give you the power—in exchange for a loosening of the chain.”
Alair swayed and leaned more heavily on Kyla. His pale face and clenched teeth alarmed her. “Claid, don’t bargain—help him,” she pled.
“Ah, but mistress, when will I get another such chance?” Claid backed farther away.
“Remember … mindstealers,
” Alair urged weakly. Blood seeped down his side.
“Come here at once and do what he asks,” Kyla commanded, straining to keep the mage on his feet.
Claid hung back. “It’s your chance, too,” he said slyly.
Her chance to bargain with Alair? She could demand that he set things as they had been before he and Claid came into her life, but not even a mage had that much power. Even if she could have that wish fulfilled, it would not bring her happiness.
Marta came up beside them and helped Kyla support Alair. “Those things Alair saw in the canyon—they’ve forded the river and they’re climbing up this side. They’ll be here soon.” The fear in Marta’s eyes belied her matter-of-fact tone.
“We can’t delay.” In her fury, Kyla spat the words at Claid. “Heal Alair at once or I’ll do nothing more to help you win your freedom. I’ll be harsher with you than Alair ever was.”
He cocked his head and studied her. “I suppose you might be,” he said. “Will you swear to help me if I do heal him?”
“Yes. Just do it!”
Claid stepped forward, put his hands on Alair’s arms, and—vanished. Kyla stared at the empty space where he had stood. She blinked. Blinked again. With the same suddenness with which he had vanished, he refilled the space he’d left empty.
Alair straightened; his weight lifted from her shoulder. “You made a bad bargain,” he told her as he drew his cloak around him and strode toward the canyon’s edge.
“Is he always like that?” Marta asked, staring at his retreating back.
“Sometimes he’s worse,” Kyla said, hurrying after him.
Claid fell into step beside her. When they caught up with the mage, Kyla gasped. Like spiders the mindstealers scaled the canyon wall. Fifty or sixty of them, she estimated, more than they could possibly defeat. Most were too distant to look like more than large insects clambering over rocks, but the vanguard was so near that their glowing orange eyes menaced the watchers.
“Get back,” Kyla ordered Marta, pushing her away from the rim. “Don’t look at them. You won’t be able to look away. They’ll control you.”
Ruffian ran back and forth, his frenzied barking urging action.
“We can’t stop them all,” Alair said, shouting to be heard over the dog’s baying. “We’ll have to do what we can here, and then cross the canyon and try to stop them from there. Crossing’s no problem for Claid and me, but we can’t carry you.”
“You’re a mage. Can’t you find a way?”
“As a bird I can’t carry anyone but Claid.”
Two black figures crawled over the rim. Ruffian l yelped and dashed toward Alair, tail between his legs.
“Run!” Alair ordered. “Get as far away as you can. Take Marta.”
Claid dashed to Kyla, leaned close, and whispered into her ear, “Your cloak holds power, like Alair’s. Use it. Now, run!” He pushed her.
She caught hold of Marta’s arm and raced away from the mindstealers, away from the canyon.
Her worry about Alair and Claid slowed her steps. She should be with them, singing the wind and calling on it to battle the mindstealers.
Yet she was responsible for Marta, and if she stayed, she’d place Marta in grave danger. She ran but often glanced back over her shoulder. She could no longer see Alair or Claid, but neither did she see any mindstealers in pursuit. She slowed to catch her breath.
“Are we safe?” Marta asked, jogging beside her.
She looked back again.
Mindstealers, still distant, now loped after them.
Marta, too, had seen their pursuers. “We’ve got to go on,” she panted.
Kyla nodded and renewed the race. Burdened by heavy backpacks, they ran until their breath came in ragged gasps.
A rumbling sound, the hoot of a whistle. The train. Not close. How far were the tracks? If they could cross them before the train passed, it might cut off pursuit. Kyla veered and dragged Marta toward the distant roar. The noise still brought fear, but the mindstealers were worse. She’d rather brave the train than them.
She risked a glance over her shoulder. The mindstealers were running silently only a few paces behind. With a tight grip on Marta’s arm, Kyla spurted forward. In front of her a pair of heavy dark lines slashed the sandy soil.
The train was near. Too near. Kyla plunged toward it. The ground shook. Marta’s shriek was lost in clatter and thunder. Clinging to Marta, Kyla hurled herself over the tracks, fell, rolled. The train screamed past.
She hauled Marta to her feet, straightened her pack, and angled away, but not far. They could not outdistance the mindstealers. They had one chance. She must summon the wind before the mindstealers recovered from the sight of the train.
Her voice lifted in the strongest song she could manage. Would the wind hear her over the train’s clamor?
The train was not long enough; its last car clattered past. The mindstealers huddled together on the other side of the tracks. Kyla held Marta tight against her and keened her plea.
A violet wind swirled around them, peppering them with sand. Kyla shut her eyes and kept singing. Marta moaned. Kyla opened her eyes and saw the mindstealers gesturing and bounding toward the tracks.
As they neared, the wind swept up pebbles and cinders and hurled them at the creatures. It swirled around them, shoving them back, forming a bulwark protecting Kyla and Marta. The creatures fought against it for a time, then turned and ran back toward the canyon.
After a few minutes’ rest they set off again, not running but walking at a rapid stride. Kyla led the way, circling back toward the canyon, but far to the east of where they had camped and had seen the mindstealers crossing. They crept to the canyon’s edge and peered into its depths. It looked as uncrossable as ever. Yet she and Ruffian had crossed it, the mindstealers had crossed it—though she saw none in it now—and Alair had crossed it.
He had probably flown across it in bird form, so that didn’t count. The mindstealers were lightweight and long-limbed and weren’t burdened with heavy packs. The wind had carried her down into the canyon before, and Ruffian, under Claid’s influence, had guided her up and out of it.
Ruffian. Was he safe? Was Alair? Until she and Marta crossed the canyon, she wouldn’t know whether he and Claid had gotten away and reached the other side. Resolutely she hunted for a place to begin the harrowing descent.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
REVELATIONS
The canyon wall mocked their attempts to find hand- and footholds. Their heavy backpacks threatened to unbalance them, and the rope that bound them together hampered their movements more than it offered security.
Peering over the edge, Marta, who had been so stalwart, collapsed in terror. “I can’t,” she wailed, shaking. “I’m sorry, Kyla. I thought I could do it, but I can’t.” She gave a quick glance over the edge and shuddered. “It’s so far down,” she moaned.
Kyla had to find a way to get them both across. Alone, she could try the descent, or she might even be able to ride the wind. Marta could do neither.
She recalled Claid’s parting words: Your cloak holds power, just as Alair’s does. Use it.
That couldn’t be true—her cloak was just an old cloak that had been her mother’s. Yet she recalled again that she had been wearing it or sitting on it each time the wind had carried her any distance.
Desperate, not knowing what else to do, she removed her cloak and spread it on the rocky ledge. “Sit down,” she ordered Marta, pointing.
With a puzzled look, Marta sat.
“I’m going to sing the wind and try to get it to fly us over the canyon. It may not work. We may go nowhere or we may be dropped into the canyon and killed. It’s our only hope, though. If you don’t want to try it, you can go back and take your chances on evading the mindstealers.”
Marta swallowed and said in a choked voice, “I said I was staying and I will. If you die, I’ll die with you.”
Kyla took rope from her pack, sat beside Marta, and wound the rope around
them, binding them tightly together. “I don’t have a scarf to blindfold you, so you’ll just have to keep your eyes shut.” She squeezed Marta’s hand.
Kyla lifted her voice in the strongest sound she could manage. The wind grew brisker; its dim color deepened from pale pink to rose to red. It whuffled around the cloak, lifting its edges but no more. She poured passion into her song. The wind whipped around them so, she feared they’d be blown over the edge into the canyon. Marta trembled against her.
With a suddenness that shocked her into a brief silence the cloak swept upward. Almost immediately it dipped. Kyla clutched it to keep from sliding off. Marta moaned. Somehow Kyla resumed her song. The cloak pitched and yawed like a fishing boat in a storm. Holding on tightly, Kyla sang more fervently still.
An updraft caught them, tossed them high over the canyon. Kyla looked down. Her voice wavered, her throat closed. They swooped downward. A tight band clamped around her chest; she couldn’t breathe. Like a falling leaf they spiraled into the canyon.
A huge bird dived toward them. Its beak raked her shoulder. She screamed—and sang.
Their descent slowed, stopped. They began to rise. As Kyla sang and the bird flapped beside them, the cloak rose up out of the canyon and floated slowly and gently to rest on a snowy hillside.
Marta had fainted. Kyla collapsed on top of her. Hands lifted her, arms held her. Alair pressed her against him, warming her. “You’re safe,” he murmured. “You did it.” Then, as if to himself, “So much power.”
“And you,” she said, her voice muffled. “You’re safe. I was so afraid.”
“For me?”
“For you, for Claid, for Ruffian. For all of us.” She raised her head and looked around. “Ruffian! Is he here?”
In answer the dog ran up, barking joyfully, and licked her cheek. She laughed and patted his head. “How did you get him across the canyon?”
“You can thank Claid for that. He wouldn’t let me leave him to fend for himself.” The mage scowled. “With his newfound freedom, Claid defied my order to use no more power and changed himself into a huge flying reptile, large and strong enough to carry the dog across.”
Mistress of the Wind (Arucadi Series Book 1) Page 24