He smiled and shook his head. “That had only a small effect.”
“Then why did you tear out those pages?” She reached for the crumpled sheaf, but he dodged her hand and thrust the pages back beneath his tunic.
“You don’t have time to decipher and read the message now. If you wish to save Mage Alair, you must act quickly. I’ll answer your questions later.”
Kyla shivered as the weight of the decision bore down on her. “How can I know what is best, when I don’t have all the facts? How can I be sure I can trust you?”
Claid did not answer but regarded her with sad gray eyes.
Marta, standing behind her, rested her hands lightly on Kyla’s shoulders. “You can trust him. I know you can.”
If only she could. Did the crystal really offer Alair’s only hope for survival? Suppose she threw away the opportunity for Alair to live out a normal human life. How could she take such responsibility? Yet if she refused and Alair perished because of her refusal, she’d be responsible for his death. She might have discovered her mage power, but it was useless in resolving such a moral dilemma
Marta increased the pressure of her fingers on Kyla’s shoulder, urging her to decide. Marta trusted Claid—had always trusted him. Claid had been unfailingly kind to Marta; he had been her lover. She had seen none of his tricks or deceptions. Nor had she seen him in his true Dire Lord form.
Kyla’s trust in Claid had faltered before all of Alair’s warnings. She couldn’t be sure that Claid did not see in the crystal a way to destroy or imprison Alair in revenge for his long captivity. If only she could know what was in the removed pages. She couldn’t escape the conviction that they held the key to her quandary. She met Claid’s patient gaze, trying to fathom what lay behind those mysterious, changeable eyes.
She thought of the many quarrels she’d had with Alair over Claid. Always she’d taken Claid’s part, but mostly out of stubbornness. She’d had her own doubts about Claid, and since Alair’s death those doubts had expanded like the crystal.
Alair wasn’t dead. Not yet. Claid was offering her a last chance to keep him alive. She had to take that chance. “Trust me,” Alair had said, and she had. And he had been right about the power she’d denied having. He hadn’t lied about that. Now Marta told her to trust Claid.
“He’ll be conscious? He’ll still have his mage power?”
“The crystal will enhance his power. I’ll take it to a junction between dimensions, a place where there is ample power to draw on.”
She thrust the brainstone into Claid’s hands. “Do what is best for Alair.”
Claid accepted the stone, his eyes now dark and serious. “Alair may, if he chooses, use it to let his mind touch others and even share his power.”
“So he could restore power to the rest of the land?”
“If he wishes, he could do so.”
She studied his face for any hint of deception. “If you play us false, I’ll forge a new chain myself and bind you forever.”
“I will not betray your trust.”
“All right,” Kyla said. “Set his mind within the crystal.”
“I obey, mistress.”
A sudden darkness blotted every vestige of light. Kyla’s stomach lurched. A bitter coldness swept over her and was gone.
A faint glow penetrated the darkness. Kyla was no longer in Alair’s laboratory. She stood on a vast plain. The light increased. Shadowy mountains took shape in the distance. In front of her was the crystal sphere, grown larger. It loomed above her like a tall building.
Beside it, a giant being with Claid’s face and the legs and hooves of a goat held a small brown stone. He placed it against the top of the sphere, and the crystal filled with light. “It is done, Lady Kyla,” said the Dire Lord.
Kyla gazed at the glowing crystal, resplendent with rainbows. A beautiful dwelling place.
But lonely. So lonely.
Kyla started at the voice in her head. “Alair?”
I was the mage Alair.
“You still are,” she said. “Your body died, but Claid says that in this crystal you can live on forever.”
I don’t know that I relish that prospect. Though this is indeed a marvelous place, and I shall enjoy discovering all its facets. It holds many possibilities. And it allows me to communicate with you. But nevertheless, my love, in it I face a solitary existence.
“It needn’t be. You can reach out to others.”
“You can,” Claid put in, “even share your power with them.”
The rainbows danced, and it seemed to Kyla that the voice in her head laughed. So you discovered a way to cure me of being self-centered, did you? Not a way I would have chosen for myself, but perhaps, after all, it is just.
“Alair, I’m sorry,” Kyla said. “It was the only way to save you. Forgive me.”
You did the only thing you could have done. I’m the one who must ask forgiveness—of you and especially of Claid.
“Lady Kyla,” the Dire Lord interposed quickly, “I must return you to Starwind Peak. If you wish to say farewell …”
Kyla nodded. She walked forward and pressed her lips against the faceted crystal. “Goodbye, Alair. I love you.”
Another instant of darkness and cold, and she was back in Alair’s laboratory, where Marta still held the mage light. Claid joined them in his human form.
When she could speak, Kyla asked, “Why did Alair say he needed our forgiveness?”
Claid drew the torn pages from beneath his tunic and handed them to her.
While Marta held the mage light so that she could see, Kyla sat on the floor among the wreckage left by the crystal. She smoothed each page and searched for the rainbow pattern that contained the hidden message. It took a long while to decipher the message, longer to absorb its meaning. Neither Marta nor Claid spoke while she labored. As the import of what she read became clear, she found their silence oppressive.
She looked up at Claid. Tears spilled from her eyes and she could scarcely choke out the words. “You let me think these pages told how to free you.”
He regarded her sadly. “I never said they did.”
“Because you knew,” she said. “He prepared that crystal for you. He never meant to set you free.”
“I knew he would face the temptation, but we can never know what he would have done when the time came.”
“He promised to remove your chains and return you to the Dire Realms,” she said as tears rolled down her cheeks. “It was a trick. He would have done those things, but he would have enclosed you in the crystal so he could draw on your power whenever he wanted. These pages showed him how.” Kyla scrambled to her feet and faced Claid. “He lied to me.”
“He’d grown too dependent on the power I brought him,” Claid said softly. “He couldn’t let it go—not entirely. Do not judge him harshly. Few men would relinquish control over so much power. He at least used that power for good.”
“He had the crystal prepared.” Kyla grew hot with anger. “He worded his vow to me in such a way that he could use the crystal without breaking his oath. He—”
“He had the strength to know his own weakness. He protected me by entrusting me to your care, knowing that if he lacked the will to free me, you would find a way to do so.”
“But in the end you freed yourself.”
“No, Lady. You freed me. Alair saw it happening. He did nothing to stop it.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I had no concept either of loyalty or of love until I learned them from you. You stood by me when I brought the wrath of the villagers down on you. When I became a helpless infant, you did not abandon me but fought to preserve my life. You tried to protect me at the inn, and your first act on your release from the workhouse was to rescue me from the orphanage.
“Alair forced me into his service. He used power to bind me to him. Power I understood, and I used my own to resist whenever I could. Your bonds were gentler—and harder to resist, as Alair himself learned. He cam
e to love you, and I—I came to understand that goodness has a force of its own, subtle yet stronger in its way than the raw might of a Dire Lord. It was that force that broke my chains, Lady Kyla.”
Too moved to express her feelings in words, she put her arms around him, kissed his cheek, and found it as wet as her own.
He hugged her, then drew Marta into the embrace. “I’ve learned from you both,” he said. “You’ve taught me the true use of power. Together you can spread that lesson across Arucadi. The land needs you.”
“I can no longer say I’m not a mage,” Kyla said. “About that Alair told the truth. I do have power, though like Marta I need to learn to use it.”
“You’ll learn,” Claid told Kyla. “Your father was a wise and powerful mage before he exhausted his power in helping to create Rim Canyon. You have inherited his abilities. You can do far more than windspeak already, and your power will grow as you put it to good use.”
“Will you teach me to use it as you’ve been teaching Marta?”
“You have a better teacher—your father’s books contain the knowledge you need.”
“And I suppose you’ve known that all along how to extract that knowledge.”
He grinned, and his eyes turned a guileless blue. “I’ve learned through studying his books.”
She frowned, then broke into laughter. “You scamp! You’d better show me how to find it.”
Impishly he shook his head. “I wouldn’t deprive you of the thrill of discovery. You have time to search it out while we wait for spring.”
“Then you won’t leave us to go back to the Dire Realms?”
“Not yet. While you need me, my place is here. I’ll see you safely through the winter.”
The spring rains had spread a palette of wildflowers across the barren landscape. Kyla breathed deeply of their fragrance and marveled at the transformation. Ruffian charged through the waving plants after a lizard.
“The land’s spread out a carpet of welcome for us,” Marta said, echoing her thoughts.
“Of farewell for me,” Claid said.
Kyla put her hand on the arm of the familiar boyish figure. “It’ll seem strange not having you around,” she said. “I thank you for coming with us this far.”
“Alair’d have my hide if I didn’t.” He laughed. “And I wouldn’t have missed that last wind ride over the canyon on your cloak.”
Kyla laughed too, though the mention of Alair brought a pang of sadness. If only he were here with them, handsome and proud in his own black cloak.
I am with you, dear heart. And I will be with you as you and Marta select those who will share my power.
Claid nodded. He, too, must have heard the mage’s silent voice. “You have no easy task. The people have grown dependent on their inventions; they won’t give them up and may not believe magic can coexist with them. Those who have entrusted their souls to the machines will oppose you, but the few who welcome Alair’s gift of power will bless you and him.”
He gave Marta a warm embrace and a lingering kiss. Then he turned to Kyla and placed his hands on her shoulders. “From your father’s books you’ve learned all the secrets of power. You need me no longer. I leave you, Lady Kyla, with my thanks for all you’ve taught me.”
“Will I never see you again?”
He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “My lady, I promise you the day will come when we will meet again.” He reached into his pocket, withdrew his pipes, and played a haunting melody. Kyla listened, charmed by the sound. Tears streamed from Marta’s eyes. She wiped them away with the sleeve of her tunic.
Too soon the music ended. “I will play for you again on that day,” he said and bowed.
He loomed before them in his Dire Lord form, muscles rippling beneath bare skin, hips and legs heavily furred and ending in cloven hooves. Marta cried out. His bearded face smiled down on them; his gray eyes winked. Then he was gone.
Marta stared at the place where he had been until Kyla tugged at her arm. “We’d better move on. It’s a long walk to Line’s End.”
Wordlessly, Marta fell in beside her. Neither looked forward to the return to Line’s End, but they had decided that they must start there. The townspeople would not be happy to see them, but after all the victims the mindstealers had claimed, the town had need of healing, and she and Marta had memories to lay to rest and wrongs to right. Their newfound power would protect them.
The two of them marched off through the wildflowers, while Ruffian dashed eagerly ahead and a pale gold wind frolicked around them.
THE END
Turn the page for an excerpt from
Bringers of Magic,
the sequel to Mistress of the Wind.
BRINGERS OF MAGIC
Book 2 of the Arucadi Series
EXCERPT
Kyla woke Marta as the train pulled into Carey. It was growing dark. Already gaslights illumined the station platform, casting their soft glow over the large brick station, a finer building than any they’d seen in North Woods Province. A small crowd waited to greet the deboarding passengers. Watching the other passengers gather bundles and valises and hurry off into the embraces of friends and family, Marta felt a pang of loneliness. No one would be meeting them; no one knew or cared that they were coming.
She adjusted her blouse, smoothed the wrinkles in her long skirt, picked up the valise that held all the possessions she owned, and followed Kyla from the train.
Kyla had only stepped onto the platform when she stopped so suddenly that Marta bumped into her. “Sorry,” she said. “But feel the wind.”
Marta shrugged. A stiff breeze was blowing, hardly unusual for an autumn day. It meant nothing to her except the need to clutch her skirt to keep it from whipping about. But then, she wasn’t a windspeaker. Kyla stood there, eyes closed, taking deep breaths and looking like a starving person who’d just been handed a plateful of rich food. “It’s lovely,” Marta heard her murmur. “Soft gold and sweet smelling.”
Marta could smell nothing but the sweaty bodies of the passengers. She grabbed Kyla’s arm and steered her toward the station.
Before they reached the door, a young man blocked their path. “Pardon me, ladies,” he said, courteously removing his hat. “Is this your first visit to Carey?”
“Yes, it is,” Kyla answered while Marta appraised the stranger.
An icy tingle coursed along her arms and shoulders, its coldness a warning. This man had the potential for power, but he should not be trusted with it.
Tall, well-groomed, neatly dressed in dark topcoat and gray trousers, he looked more friendly than menacing. His smile was open, his gaze direct. But Marta knew all too well how easily some men smiled and how little it meant.
“I was asked to watch for two ladies traveling alone from North Woods Province,” he said. “I’m Jerome Esterville, secretary to Councilor Hardwick, president of Carey’s town council. May I ask whether you’ve come from Dabney?”
“We have,” Kyla answered, “but we weren’t expected here. I don’t think we can be the women you are looking for.”
“Probably not,” he said, his smile fading to a look of disappointment. “The ladies I seek are known as ‘wonder workers’ or ‘bringers of magic.’ They seem to be itinerant magicians who are claimed to confer mystical powers on favored individuals. I had hoped … but, no, of course you can’t be they.”
Marta’s heart sank. So they weren’t starting out with a clean slate, after all. They would be facing the same handicaps they’d faced in North Woods.
But Kyla asked with a smile, “And if we were?”
“Ah, if you were, I’d be privileged to escort you to Council Master Hardwick’s office so that he could give you a proper greeting on behalf of the Carey Council.”
“What sort of greeting would that be?” Kyla’s teasing question sent a premonitory shudder crawling up Marta’s spine. This young man was hiding something behind his polite and pleasant pose, and a confrontation with the city officials smelled
of a trap.
“A greeting appropriate to their fame and quality,” he said with a bow.
“But since we are not those ladies,” Marta interposed before Kyla could make a damaging admission, “perhaps instead you could direct us to a good hotel?”
“My dear ladies,” he said, turning his clear-eyed gaze at Marta, “it is ill-advised for two unaccompanied young women to go alone to a hotel. I beg you, let me escort you to Councilor Hardwick’s office. He will be happy to find you safer and more fitting accommodations.”
“We were about to find the copper exchange here at the station,” Marta objected. “We’ll need Inland coins before we go anywhere.”
Jerome smiled and shook his head. “I’m sorry to say that the rate of exchange here at the station is far from favorable. The Council Master can help you transact that business as well, and the rate will be more to your advantage.”
Marta frowned and would have offered further objections, but Kyla threw her a quick, cautioning glance and said, “Thank you, Mr. Esterville. I think we should see Councilor Hardwick.”
“A wise decision,” he said. “Let me carry your valises.”
~
As he threaded his way through the station crowd and led the women past hansoms and horse-drawn carriages, Jerome congratulated himself on his good fortune. He'd expected to have to meet trains for several days before spotting his quarry. Also, he had pictured older women, crones perhaps, not these attractive young women, neither of whom appeared older than eighteen.
Notwithstanding the denial from the younger, sharp-featured one, he had not the slightest doubt that these were the two he sought. He had seen the glance that passed between them, had heard the subtle undertone that lay beneath the teasing banter of the one who seemed to be the leader.
He would not make the mistake of underestimating them, despite their youth. They had to be clever to have caused all the commotion in North Woods Province and to have convinced so many of their powers. He might pretend to be charmed by them, but he would not, for an instant, let down his guard.
Mistress of the Wind (Arucadi Series Book 1) Page 32