Veronica nodded. She understood, but she didn’t agree. Once Jerome broke free, no one was safe anywhere.
“I’ve been taking inventory to be certain all are accounted for. Darnell Mastry, Gorvy’s wife, is missing. I think she may have shape-changed and dashed off when the sandstorm began. We need her here. I’ve sent a mental message, but I don’t know whether in her wolf form she’s able to receive. We need everyone here. If there were a way to do so, I’d have Petros and Zauna brought here as well.”
“They’re taking care of Dreama and trying to keep her safe.” Veronica spoke more sharply than she’d intended.
“I know that, but we need everyone. I feel certain of it.”
“You may be right, but they’ll have to do what they can from back home,” Veronica said, this time intending the sharpness.
“What can I do?” Trille asked, coming up to them. “The clouds I brought rain from are gone.”
“There’s a little water in the streambed,” Ed offered. “Can you do anything with that?”
“Not much, I’m afraid.”
“But wait,” Veronica said. “There’s more water upstream. I don’t think that water in the streambed is all from the rain.” Quickly she told Trille of the pool she’d found and the dam she’d destroyed. She didn’t think Jerome would have had an opportunity to rebuild it as yet.
Trille gave a big sigh of relief. “I can work with that.”
Veronica glanced around, noting the positions of the various Community members. They had grouped themselves in small clusters spread out in a sort of circle, not by design she thought. Her own cluster, consisted of her, Ed, Trille, and Professor Morence, Directly opposite them on the other side of the circle Abigail huddled with Leah, holding her as though she feared Leah would be taken from her. On the curve of the circle to her right, halfway between her cluster and that of Abigail and Leah, Winter sat hunched over his sketchpad, Renni stood looking down at him, while Marta seemed to be remonstrating with Lore. To her left, Marchion and Gorvy engaged in animated conversation or perhaps argued over something. Opposite them, to Abigail’s right, Camsen Wellner bent over Kyla’s body and Winnie knelt beside it. Jerome stood near the middle of the circle, reminding Veronica of the children’s game of “Circle ’Round the Kettle,” with Jerome portraying the kettle.
The circle comparison wasn’t wholly accurate though. The symmetry was marred by a gap opposite Marta’s cluster. Why this mattered and why she should be noting it instead of watching Jerome, Veronica couldn’t say. Ed had risen, ready to head toward Marta, when a scream followed by the howl of a wolf drew everyone’s attention.
Isham dashed into view followed closely by a large wolf. “Darnell,” Veronica whispered. “I’d almost forgotten about her.” To Ed she said, pointing to the wolf, “That’s Gorvy’s wife, the shape-shifter. That’s what she changes to.”
Isham reached that gap in the circle that had drawn Veronica’s attention, and at that point the wolf leaped on him, bringing him sprawling face down in the sand.
As if he’d been waiting for that signal, Jerome gave a roar very similar to that of the wolf. He spun around, taking in the circle of Gifted around him. “Well, now, isn’t this cozy?” he shouted. “How nice of you to gather around to provide my entertainment. You’ve had your fun. Now mine begins.”
He gazed again around the circle. “But wait! Aren’t we missing some guests? Where are the fortuneteller and the cripple? And the guest of honor, the baby? You failed to invite me to her Naming-Day fete, but I won’t neglect her at my victory party.”
“How’d he know about Zauna and Petros?” Veronica whispered to Ed, who merely shushed her without taking his gaze from Marta. Waiting for her nod, Veronica guessed, recalling Professor Morence’s sending. But so far as she knew, the professor hadn’t sent any instructions as to what to do when Marta nodded. And Marta couldn’t mindspeak.
She could! They needed to act before Jerome carried out his threat to bring Zauna, Petros, and the baby here.
Too late! With a loud plunk Petros’s wheeled platform, with Petros clinging to it, landed in the center of the circle, and Zauna, holding the screaming infant and adding her screams to Dreama’s, landed beside him, falling onto her rump and looking terrified and thoroughly undignified. In her arms along with the baby she held her crystal ball.
That won’t be much help, Veronica thought.
When Marta still did not nod, Veronica concluded that Jerome must be preventing her. Marta had never been slow to act. If anything, she could be too impulsive. Jerome must have heard some, maybe all, of Professor Morence’s mindspeech.
Jerome probably didn’t know that Veronica could mindspeak, but he would know as soon as she did it. She had no way to block him. So she had to act quickly and send to everyone.
Act, people. Marta’s blocked, she sent. Do whatever you can.
That got through, she was certain. To those in her cluster she could speak directly. “Trille, there’s water in the stream. Use it,” she said. “Ed, keep rebuilding the land. Professor, use your power of coercion to force Lore to cooperate with us rather than with Jerome.”
Trille lifted her voice in song. Veronica launched a stream of fire at Jerome. He deflected it, but it kept him from quieting Trille. Winter held a charcoal stick in his fingers; his hand moved rapidly over the torn sketchpad.
Veronica sent another stream of fire at Jerome. A second stream rushed toward him from the opposite direction. The priest of Ondin had overcome his scruples and acted!
In response to Trille’s song, water rushed through the stream that had held only a trickle. It overflowed the stream banks and rose up in a waterspout. Twirling and twisting, it headed for Jerome, who was already having a hard time deflecting the two fire streams. Veronica gave a shout of triumph.
The wolf jumped off Isham, who seemed to be unconscious, and bounded toward Jerome. Zauna handed the squalling Dreama to Petros, took careful aim, and hurled her heavy crystal ball at Jerome. Under normal circumstances he could have easily deflected it, but he was so busy redirecting fire and water that he probably didn’t see the missile coming.
The fire and the water didn’t touch him. Zauna’s crystal orb hit him squarely on the forehead. Jerome staggered, fell to his knees. Both streams of fire struck him, but so did the waterspout. Water swirled around him, putting out the flames that were licking at his clothing and flesh. Moments later he rose slowly to his feet and roared, but this time not with laughter. “You’re all going to die,” he shouted. “Everyone of you. And I’m going to savor every death.” He swung around and pointed at Camsen Wellner. “Starting with you, fire thrower!”
“And you, water singer.” He pointed at Trille, then glared at Veronica, “And you, red-haired brat, I have a very special death planned for you.”
With that pronouncement, he turned and again pointed a finger at Wellner. “I’ll fight fire with fire.”
The wolf, which had stopped short to avoid first the flames and then the swirling funnel of water, vaulted forward and sank its teeth into Jerome’s calf, jolting him so that he raised his hand and the jet of flame that flew from his finger streaked skyward, sparing his intended victim. It soon found another. Jerome’s hand swung toward the wolf, and a flame shot toward it. Gorvy had broken into a run the instant he’d seen the wolf head for Jerome and had been standing next to the wolf when it launched its attack on Jerome. Gorvy dashed forward and threw himself across the back of the wolf, taking the blast of flame on his back. Despite the pain of the burns, he clung to the wolf’s back, protecting her.
Veronica shot another stream of flame at Jerome. And Trille sang a stream of water that doused the flames on Gorvy’s back. Veronica was doing her best to shield herself and Trille, who could not shield well, if at all, and also Ed.
Zauna, having used the only weapon she had and in so doing had quite possibly destroyed her livelihood, took Dreama from Petros and rocked the baby, trying vainly to quiet her cries. Winnie made he
r way to Zauna and placed her hand on Dreama, and the cries eased.
Petros, following the wolf’s example, launched himself on his wheeled platform toward Jerome and careened the platform against the leg the wolf had not attacked. Jerome howled with pain and shot a blast of power at Petros that knocked him off his platform and left him lying motionless in the sand.
Winnie took a couple of steps toward Petros, hesitated, and glanced around the group. She was the nearest healer to him, and he needed help. So did Gorvy. But they were lying dangerously close to Jerome. She took two more steps. Almost there.
“You!” Jerome bellowed. “Come here and heal me.”
She wanted to refuse but felt herself being forced to approach him. She tried to resist, but she couldn’t shield and Jerome’s power was strong despite his injuries.
“Gorvy, help me if you can,” she asked as she passed him, still protecting the wolf, his shape-shifted wife.
Gorvy shook his head. He’d already tried to use his power of quenching. It had no effect on Jerome. Winnie cast a desperate glance at Veronica, who responded by shooting another stream of fire at Jerome. Despite his injuries, Jerome easily deflected the flames, sending them back at Veronica. Her shields held.
Camsen Wellner sent a stream at Jerome from the opposite direction. Jerome deflected that stream, too. The blaze rebounded and struck Wellner’s raised arms. His long-sleeved priest’s tunic caught fire. He threw himself on the ground and rolled in the sand to put out the flames. Abigail hurried to him, leaving Leah’s side for the first time since Leah’s resurrection. He sat up, groaning, and she placed her hands on his burned arms. Grimacing, she took the painful burns into herself.
Throughout this time, Winnie had been slowly moving toward Jerome, fighting against the compulsion with every step. She moved as though slogging through thick mud, but she could not stop making progress; she could only slow it by her resistance. Inevitably, she reached Jerome’s side, near where Petros lay unmoving, and against her will her arms moved toward Jerome’s burned arms, burns less serious than those Wellner had suffered. With a shudder Winnie fell to her knees; her unwilling hands found the deep and nasty bites the wolf had inflicted.
She’d healed the burns, but despite her hands being pressed against the wolf’s bites, healing didn’t come. Gorvy was suppressing her talent!
“What’s wrong, woman?” Jerome bellowed. “Why aren’t you healing my leg?”
“My power’s exhausted,” she said, hoping to keep him from suspecting Gorvy. “I’ve used too much.”
“I’m sick of you people!” Jerome roared. “You work at cross purposes from each other, you scarcely know what you’re doing, and your puny power runs out at the worst times. I’ll show you what real power can do. You think you can defeat me because you’ve had some petty victories. I can move you around like pawns on a chessboard.”
He turned toward Ed, Veronica, Trille, and the professor. “Simple Eddy, did you think I hadn’t noticed your feeble attempts to heal your land? Did you think I’d allow you to do that? No, I just let you occupy yourself with the attempt to keep you busy. But enough of that.”
A blast of hot wind swirled toward Ed and the others, picking up sand. It swept over the expanse of grass around Ed, withering the green shoots and covering them with sand.
“Now go join your little wifey.” Ed was picked up and hurled through the air to land at Marta’s feet. She bent and helped him rise. Jerome, laughing, sent both of them sailing through the air to land on Petros’s wheeled platform. The platform rolled backward, stopping near Isham, who groaned, sat up, and glared at all those around him. Marta grabbed Ed’s hand. If Isham still wanted to kill them, he’d have plenty of help. Squeezing Marta’s hand, Ed got off the platform and to his feet, pulling Marta up with him. Without exchanging words, they stepped away from Isham and walked to where Zauna still held Dreama. Marta released Ed’s hand and held out her arms. Zauna placed Dreama in them, and Ed slipped an arm around Marta’s waist and drew her and the baby close.
Marta had expected Jerome to say something or to take some action against them. He might have, had not Veronica sent another powerful stream of fire at him. Instead of merely deflecting it back toward her, he caught the end of the fire stream, twisted it around, and sent it twirling around Trille, who screamed and fell to the ground in flames. Veronica, shielded and untouched by the fire, bent to help her.
“Oh, no,” Jerome called to her. “You go back to your beloved aunt Kyla.”
Veronica flew through the air to where Kyla’s body lay and was dropped beside it with a force that sent her sprawling. Abigail, who’d completed healing Wellner, headed toward her but ran into an invisible barrier. Not expecting it, she hit it with a jolt that shook her so that she burst into tears. Leah ran to her and put her arms around her.
“How tender,” Jerome said. “Such a touching sight deserves to be preserved.”
Abigail and Leah froze in place. No false fountain imprisoned them—they just stood as though made of stone, unable to move a finger or even an eyelid.
“Now, let’s see. Who’s next?” Jerome spun around, stopped, and pointed at Camsen Wellner. “Water can put out flames,” he said. “It’s too bad flames can’t put out water. But you can sympathize with the water girl.” With that, Wellner was lifted across the circle and deposited beside the badly burned and weeping Trille.
“Have courage,” the priest whispered to her. “I’ll pray to Ondin on your behalf.”
“You might as well,” she sobbed. “The Power-Giver isn’t helping us.”
Jerome’s loud cackle made it evident that he’d heard her lament. “Your Power-Giver is no match for me,” he proclaimed loudly, so that even though only the nearest few had heard Trille’s comment, everyone heard his response. “That should be obvious. Your leader, to whom he spoke, or so she claimed, lies dead. If he did not protect her, you should know he will not, cannot protect any of you.”
He paused to let that declaration sink in. While he waited, letting the tension build, he bent down and picked up Zauna’s crystal ball. Tossing it from hand to hand, he continued his speech. “You can see that I’ve rendered ineffective all the measly little magics you’ve been throwing at me. True, the wolf succeeded in inflicting a painful hurt on my leg. I assume you all know that she is the shape-shifted wife of this gentleman,” he pointed at Gorvy, “who has been trying so hard and so unsuccessfully to suppress or even limit my power. Since his dear wife has been more successful, I have already punished her. Oh, you haven’t seen what I’ve done, but I assure you it is most effective. First, I’ve taken away her ability to change back to her human form. Second, I’ve sealed her mouth shut. She will never bite me again. She’ll find it difficult to eat with her mouth permanently closed and will eventually starve to death, but that is an unfortunate side effect of her punishment.”
Gorvy stepped forward, fists clenched as though ready to do physical battle with Jerome. Darnell-wolf jumped in front of him and leaned against his legs, preventing his rash action.
“I have also done some other things that aren’t obvious to you, though no doubt they will become so. I have taken Professor Morence’s ability to mind-speak. He had become far too chatty.” Jerome continued to toss the crystal ball idly from hand to hand.
“The lovely Trille will recover from her burns in time, though not by being healed by anyone in this company. The ability to heal has been taken away from those who had it.” He stopped and looked at the crystal ball as though he had only just recalled that he’d been toying with it. “I’m afraid you’ve damaged your crystal further, Madame Zauna. Pity. It’s quite useless now. Except for this—” Without warning he hurled the ball at Zauna, aiming directly at her head.
To everyone’s amazement, she lifted her arms and caught the globe before it could strike her, thus saving herself from what would most likely have been a killing blow. Her look of triumph faded when in her hands the globe split into small fragments. Jerome would
not be denied a victory over the crystal gazer.
“We near the end of this charade,” Jerome’s voice boomed so loud that some in the group covered their ears. That made Jerome roar with laughter. “I must, however, recognize one especially talented member of the group, as I fear his talent has been sadly unnoticed. Young Winter is a most skilled artist. Ah, but I should say, he was a most skilled artist. He will have just discovered that his fingers will no longer bend nor will his wrists flex. He cannot hold a brush or pencil or even a wide stick of charcoal. Pity. His drawings had a most lively quality.”
Winter was still seated on the ground, his tattered sketchpad in his lap. He let out a howl of anguish. Renni, standing beside him, placed a hand on his shoulder. She could see that he had drawn, on a torn and wrinkled page, a long-bladed knife and a hand ready to grasp its hilt. The knife looked very real, almost ready to leap off the page. She reached toward it but was distracted by Jerome’s voice, bellowing as usual.
“Now,” he called out, “We bring today’s drama to a close, and like any good play, we need a dramatic conclusion that was hinted at in Act One.”
Jerome pointed at Marta. “My dear. I require your little one, but don’t be too upset. You’ll soon join her, along with your dear husband, Simple Eddy.”
Marta blanched and tightened her grip on Dreama. Ed clasped her arm. Jerome took a couple of strides toward them, stopped, and pointed at the infant. Dreama let out a loud wail as Marta’s arms dropped away from her and Ed’s hand lost its grip on Marta. Dreama was drawn through the air to Jerome’s waiting hands.
“Now, for the finale. The wrongs done me require a blood payment. A large one. Already your leader lies dead.” He pointed to Kyla’s body with Veronica standing guard beside it. “She, however, did not die by my hand but through her own folly. I regret not having had the opportunity to slit her throat and watch her life’s blood pour forth. She took that pleasure from me, but I will not be deprived of the pleasure of spilling other blood, beginning with that of this little one, whom I’m sparing from growing up to be part of the Community of Gifted Hypocrites.”
A Mix of Magics (Arucadi: The Beginning Book 3) Page 22