by Lisa Lowell
And she had the thrill of seeing Vamilion's eyes widen in wonder. He stopped, frozen in the door frame in wonder. She felt much the same way. She felt lightness that defied explanation given the grim circumstances of this first official meeting. She experienced a comfort and attraction completely missing from her tense relationship with Drake or her disinterest with Jonis. Vamilion fit comfortably in her mind, as if they could be in a room together forever, with no need to interact, and it would not feel awkward in the least. Yet she wanted to be with him.
She managed to speak first. “If this is not the right time…I will go and…”
“No,” he interrupted and managed to take a step. “I need you to be here.” The pleading in his voice belied his reluctance to approach her. Why she needed to remain when he needed to grieve disturbed her, but when he finally took a few more steps and came to the table to sit, she joined him at the table and served him the tea that she magically warmed for him. Somehow Goren had taken himself away without either of them noticing, knowing this conversation needed to be private.
Gailin instinctively recognized Vamilion needed to do the speaking, slowly unraveling his thoughts and emotions, for he had buried them like jewels in a mine and had never dug them free until now. He had to find them or he would never be able to truly overcome all that he had experienced. Slowly, he evolved into the man to whom she would bind herself.
“Thank you,” he began slowly in his deep voice, gentle and yet gravelly. “You rebuilt my body and I didn't get to tell you how much I appreciate your healing.”
“Does everything work right?” she asked and then realized how awkward that sentence might be taken. She blushed and wished that the veil was back over her face. Vamilion didn't chuckle, taking her comment as nothing more than her medical curiosity.
“It's fine. I'm stiff and sore, but then…I've been through a lot the last few months and anyone would feel that way with the weight of mountains on top of them.”
“Owailion told me about your …disagreement,” she commented, trying to get it out in the air without going to even more painful subjects. A battle between magicians would never be a light ordeal but it was better than discussing Paget.
“Call it what it was: a slaughter. He always will win that battle and never have to touch a sword,” Vamilion acknowledged.
“Why was he fighting you? It seemed silly, from what little Owailion told me,” encouraged Gailin, showing that whatever it was that had ignited the feud, she would back Vamilion.
“It was silly,” he confirmed. “I was frustrated… by many things, most of which had been exacerbated by Owailion. You see, I have no way of magically traveling. It's a limitation I cannot understand because all the other Wise Ones, Owailion, the Queen of Rivers…and now you, you all have a convenient and magical way to travel. That is why it was easier for Owailion to watch over you as you moved out onto the plains. Owailion was the one to suggest that, but he had ulterior motives apparently. He wanted me frustrated…angry even. He wanted me to worry about you out there alone with the snake.”
“His name is Neeorm by the way,” she said coldly, feeling the reptilian touch at her throat, and swallowed, wondering if Vamilion would interpret her comment as caring for her husband. “I wiped his mind and he's as much a patient here as my grandmother,” she added to make it clear she did not love the man.
Vamilion nodded again, stiffly. He had not known what had become of his old enemy, but then he continued with a more present problem. “In reality Owailion was using us both. He wanted you driven into your powers and tapping into…Neeorm's mind to explore. We know very little about the magic of the Outlanders and you have discovered much Owailion values. He knew neither of us could get as close as you were already positioned. He also…and I cannot believe he could do this…he wanted you to marry the snake. He wanted,” and Vamilion had to sigh deeply to get the next words out of his mouth before they made him ill. “He wanted to prove to me that Wise Ones cannot have children. You would not get pregnant. He thought that if I knew that my sons were not mine; that Paget had been unfaithful, then this was proof. He thought I would be angry enough to leave Paget and turn to you before she had passed.”
Gailin felt her jaw drop in amazement. “He would let me…to force you…?”
Vamilion sighed in frustration. “Owailion always has many layers of plan. He also knew that I would then be angry enough to either follow you to kill Neeorm or…or do what I did. Crack open the Land and empty the ley lines.”
“Did you truly do that?” Gailin asked, though she knew the answer. She had seen the evidence written in Drake's empty mind.
“Yes,” Vamilion admitted with a touch of guilt. “I had to be so angry. I couldn't understand why Owailion had allowed you to…to be touched by that snake. I loved you too much already and Owailion refused to explain all this to me. I grew so angry with him, his manipulation, his devious mind…that I would rather fight him than all the invaders that are coming. I fought him and broke myself on something harder than a mountain. I will always lose to the King of Creating.”
Gailin did not know what to say. Maybe there was nothing to say in this painful realization. He had fought his mentor, feared for Gailin's safety and sanity, broken the earth, fought an invasion and then discovered the woman he had loved had been unfaithful and his sons were not his. And on top of that, Paget had committed suicide? Vamilion must be going insane with grief, and yet he sat there speaking with her in even tones, steady and solid and strong. She marveled at the attraction he already held for her.
“And now I have to go tell my boys that their mother is dead,” he announced grimly.
Gailin looked at him with sympathy. “How can I help?”
Vamilion glanced down in shame and yet still he was willing to ask anyway. “Will you take me to my sons? They live along the Laranian River and it would take me a month to walk there, but I should tell them in person. You don't have to meet them. That wouldn't be right, but…”
“Of course I will. While you talk to them, I can help with the healers in their village and they'll never know I was there. Do they know…about this compulsion…about what you and I will be?” she asked.
“I didn't tell them, but Paget might have. They haven't forgiven me for becoming a magician and that's bad enough. I won't tell them…what their mother did. Some things don't need to be known, even if they are the truth.”
“When should we leave?” She drew her candle out to show him. “I think it's also able to work as your magic – mountain to mountain. If I give a candle to someone, they can call me without using magic and get my help. It's a perfect way for me to know where I am needed.”
Vamilion looked worried, almost distressed at her comment. “It seems….rather blatant. We've always tried to remain subtle with magic, so no one knows we are magicians and we have some anonymity.”
But Gailin's Wise One instincts told her otherwise. She reached out and touched Vamilion's arm gently, waiting for him to look at her. Her green eyes calmed him and made him realize she carried with her an aura of peace neither Owailion nor he could match.
“My magic is different,” she whispered. “I must be out and about, helping people. The healers in the villages have to know I exist and that they can call on me for help. It won't be enough for me to be compelled to investigate where I'm needed. I need to be known. It's time that the people of the Land stop things like that attempted hanging and set aside their general fear of magic. They must embrace the way it has developed here in the Land. Cutting off the ley lines will stop sorcerers like Drake from coming here again, and the people will be healed of their fear of magic.”
Vamilion nodded as he recognized her logic. “You are truly a Wise One.”
* * *
Two days later they stood side by side on the eastern banks of the Laranian River, just south of the village where Vamilion's sons had settled. They had buried Paget before they left, putting her to rest in a crypt that he cut magically in
the side of the mountain above the palace. He had even carved a plaque into the stone face: Lady Paget of Vamilion, beloved wife and mother. He, Goren and Gailin were all that attended the memorial, and while it was brief, it resolved their sadness and Vamilion felt like he could move on, though where that would be, he did not know.
And he still did not know, beyond a small town on the Laranian River, how to find his sons. Once there he reached out his mind to locate their somewhat familiar thoughts and began walking, following his instincts to his eldest son's homestead out on the prairie. For her part Honiea marked a small village on the map she was finally enhancing with actual human habitation and then walked into the town to ask for the local healer. She could keep herself well occupied while Vamilion underwent that next uncomfortable conversation. She learned the name of the town and was just aiding the village healer with a better way to set broken limbs when she heard a voice in her head.
“It's time!” Owailion shouted, making her jump. “I need you both here immediately.” The rude interruption could only be the King of Creating. She had almost forgotten that another invasion was coming and the Wise Ones would have to deal with it.
“I'm sorry,” she told the village healer as she conjured a simple candle. That he did not react witnessed his comfort level with her gift of knowledge and magic. “I am being called elsewhere now. Remember, if you ever need my help, light this candle, hold it high and I will come as quickly as I can.” She then hurriedly left the healer's clinic and stepped out onto the muddy road, fresh with spring rains. Debating about whether to go interrupt Vamilion, she reached out to his mind but before she could, he reached for her.
“Can you come to me here? Owailion's in a hurry and he'll be distressed if we aren't there instantly.” Vamilion pressed an image of a bare oak tree in the farmyard of his son's home and himself standing beneath it. She used the candle to shift and found herself standing by his side.
Although he looked miserable, Vamilion smiled. “You are my Talisman. I will never have a magical way to go everywhere I need to go, but I will always have you. Thank you.”
“How did it go with your son?” she asked carefully, feeling that Owailion could wait.
“He's upset, but surprisingly thankful I came. I told him nothing of how she died or that I am not his real father, but he almost forgave me. We might even eventually be friends I think…if I ever get a chance. Shall we go?”
“Owailion can wait,” Honiea replied bluntly. “I need a visual if I am to go someplace. I've never gone that far without knowing whose mind through which I am seeing. Can you help me into wherever Owailion is?”
Vamilion nodded, closed his eyes in concentration, throwing his mind toward the east, groping for Owailion's presence and found him after a brief search on the east side of the Don River delta. “Look into my mind,” Vamilion instructed and Honiea's tentative magic touched his soul, slipping easily into his brain and she had the visualization. She lit the candle with a thought, reached out to take Vamilion's hand and then held the candle high, wishing to go where Owailion awaited them.
They arrived in a flash of lavender light on the flats with the thin forest before them and with the Don River behind them. A dark tower stood on the eastern shore beyond. It was short and ugly compared to the tall, graceful Wise One's palace in white marble that stood a few miles beyond out in the middle of the delta. That palace rose higher into the spring sky even though it was farther away. After turning to see where they had arrived, Vamilion smiled down at her, blew out the candle for her and then put his hand under her chin. “Like I said, my personal Talisman.”
Gailin thrilled that he was opening up to her of his own self. He looked like he wanted to kiss her, but Owailion came striding out of the gate of the dark tower and trotted up to them, interrupting the moment and spoiling the mood. “I'm glad you two could make it. About time,” Owailion commented.
Vamilion's eyes grew stormy, either because he didn't like the interference or he still had not forgiven his mentor for his manipulation. Either way, Honiea gave him a warning look to be sure he didn't lose his temper again and then turned toward Owailion with a winning smile and Vamilion had to do likewise.
He reluctantly turned to address Owailion. “May I introduce the Lady Honiea, Queen of Healing. The Lady Paget has died, but we came as soon as we heard you needed us.”
That news brought Owailion up short. He had not known about Paget's death and now stumbled into the awkward silence. It took him a moment to recover and then he simply ignored the painful announcement altogether.
“Welcome, Lady Honiea. I'm glad you're here. We are going to need all our efforts on this attack. It will take all three of us.” He then launched into the circumstances that had decided him on calling them. “The Outlanders have been coming by land up through the Demion forest and will be here any day. I've built these towers to keep watch, but now they are reaching the edge of where Vamilion has broken the ley lines. They will soon discover the end of their power. Honiea, this is also where we discover if your dark magician husband has shared your true name with them. If he was in contact with these Outlanders, then they might come beyond their connection to the ley lines in order to go after you. They'll be vulnerable. However, if they do not know of your name, or even of your existence, we want to show them that the Land has yet another defender and convince them that the Land might as well be sealed again to them.”
“So you mean for them to see her?” Vamilion's voice grew thunderous. “You want to test out the theory of whether they know her name by letting them witness her here and try name magic again. That's the most ridiculous thing I've heard from you yet. You'll put her out there as a fuse to explode the situation. I've noticed that whether the gems are in the mine or not, it never works out so well for the ones caught in that explosion.” Vamilion advanced on Owailion with a murderous look in his eyes.
“No,” Honiea objected, stepping between the two men and deliberately put her hand on Vamilion's chest, directly over his heart. “No, Wise Ones must not fight.”
Vamilion looked down at her in wonder. How could she be so forgiving when Owailion had thrown her to the wolves?
“I can overlook the past because I cannot heal your rift if I hold a grudge. I have cleansed that past. There is something safer we can do instead of daring these dark sorcerers to come away from their ley lines.”
Honiea didn't lower her hand, but instead stood her ground between the two men and explained the plan that had come full blown into her mind. In a way it seemed fitting that it came down to her to heal their rift and stitch up the gaping wounds that had afflicted the Land since the day the Seal had been broken. And her plan hopefully would do both.
“When I traveled with Drake, I noticed he discounted all my healing magic, but truly coveted other things about Wise One power that seemed to impress him far more. He marveled at the palaces: we passed by three of them before we found mine. He railed at the seals around them and grumbled at the waste of magical energy needed to maintain what he thought were silly protections. He had to preserve his power like precious water. And the royal clothing; he could not figure out how we had the magical stamina to do that change but he found it most impressive. If we made such a display, blatant and excessive, it makes an impact on these sorcerers. If I conjured a diamond he valued it more than a rabbit in our dinner pot.”
“And he had no idea that diamonds are easier?” Owailion commented. “Interesting. So what kind of flashy display would convince them that they are not welcome and never will be?”
Chapter 18 – The Wall
The forest bristled with power lurking in the dark as hundreds of Outlander sorcerers approached. In the tower named Right, the few armed men Owailion had gathered to defend the place looked intimidating in the armor that the Wise Ones had given them, polished and strong. They guarded over Honiea and her prisoner, thinking they were there to protect her. They had no idea she would be defending them. Even through the thick granite
walls of the Right Tower, she could sense the sorcerers that had gathered to invade the Land. They had reached not twenty miles away, still in the forest but now they knew their ley lines had gone missing. The line they had followed had petered out.
Meanwhile Owailion stood a few miles east of the tower, concentrating on magic farther afield. He and Vamilion were enacting Honiea's plan. They stood five hundred miles apart, but working together, toward each other, creating a wall of resistance beyond anything man made before. Honiea's understanding of the dark sorcerers like Drake had convinced them that only such a grand gesture would repel this type of attack forever. Indeed they had bet their entire strategy on the prospect. Between the two of them, Vamilion and Owailion had spent three days building a Wall to define the border of the Land.
Five hundred miles away, at the southern end of the Great Chain on top of the new peak he had built in the midst of his battle with Owailion, Vamilion had set up his work place. Below him he saw the slowly dying Demion forest spreading out, but his mind was even farther away. He cast his magic far to the northwest of the Land, beyond Jonjonel, to a plain of empty land, completely devoid of people and few animals on the tundra. There awaited stone. He need not make this Wall from nothing. This stone, ancient, compressed granite and useless for any other purpose would be his raw material. With his talent with rock he magically rough cut eight by eight blocks of the stuff and then magically transported them across the continent with a thought to him at his work site on the mountain. There he refined his cuts and then transitioned each cut stone over to Owailion who shifted them into the trough he had cut through the forest. Over and over again they did this, carving stones that a man would take days with a saw to cut free. Together they did this twenty times in an hour, building the wall deep and tall. Then Honiea finally sealed it all in a magical repellent she crafted over every inch of the stone as each was placed.