Embers at Galdrilene (65 page)

K
alila staggered as exhaustion swept through her. The soles of her bare feet burned, leaving little smears of blood with each step. She stumbled to a stop, eyes sweeping the endless grass waving in the cold wind. A shiver racked her body as the wind whipped her hair into her face and tore at the ragged dress she wore. She pushed the dirty, golden strands away and ran her tongue over her dry lips.

Kalila sucked a cold breath down her parched throat. Where was she? Was she still going west, or wandering in circles? Everything looked the same. She turned around, searching for something–
anything
–to use as a landmark. Kalila couldn’t even tell the position of the sun through the thick blanket of clouds.

Everywhere, the tall grass waved like a green ocean. The newly formed seed heads bobbed up and down. Telling her to go forward, or mocking her?

Cold moisture landed on her cheek. Kalila looked up as more drops fell, driving into her face with the strength of the wind behind them. She closed her eyes and opened her mouth, letting the cold drops soak her tongue and lips. Thirst burned in her throat like a fire.

Kalila opened her eyes and looked around again. There had to be something to catch the water in. A drink. Oh, the desperate need for a drink! She’d gained her freedom, was a drink so much more to ask? If she never got another thing in life; if she died here on this empty ocean of grass that was okay–if she could just a have
one
drink first.

There was nothing to collect water in, just as there was nothing else in this wretched grassland. At least she’d finally left the desert behind. That had to mean something. Even in the desert there were things with water in them. With this much grass there had to be water somewhere. Didn’t there?

Her teeth chattered as she started to walk again, only dimly aware of the throbbing in her feet. She had to keep moving or she would freeze to death. A ragged laugh burst past her lips. Already dying of thirst now she was worrying about freezing to death.

As Kalila walked, one painful step after another, she contemplated which would be worse, freezing to death or dying of thirst. She already knew the agony of thirst and had heard stories of people freezing. It was said they fell asleep and never woke. Was it really that easy?

Kalila shook her head. Stupid thoughts to have. She’d made it this far. Two hot tears leaked down her cheeks. Where had the moisture for those come from? It didn’t matter. Her sister hadn’t broken her and Fates be damned if she’d let these grasslands break her either.

Her soaked dress clung to her legs, making it difficult to walk. Kalila stopped and looked down at the torn skirt. It was wet. So wet it dripped. Oh! It dripped. Almost sobbing with relief she yanked the dress off, sending the tiny buttons scattering into the grass. She didn’t care.

She tipped her head back and twisted the cloth above her mouth. Water trickled over her tongue. It tasted of dirt and fabric that had been worn too long. It was wonderful. Nothing had ever tasted so good. Her dry throat rejoiced at the moisture. She moved her hands to another area and squeezed more water from the rank material.

Shivers racked her soaked body as the wind lashed rain at her as if to punish her for thinking she could pass through this land unscathed. She stood in it, accepted it, shifting to new wet areas of the dress to wring the precious liquid into her mouth until her legs gave out, too weak to hold her up any longer.

Thirst still nagged at her, but it was quieter now, partially sated. Her eyes closed against the cold storm and she burrowed into the grass. She wasn’t shivering anymore; that probably wasn’t good. It was okay, though. Kalila had made her pact. She’d gained her freedom and a drink. The Fates had been kind. If they wished her to die here now, she couldn’t complain. She sighed quietly as darkness settled over her.

Warmth wrapped around her and lifted her from the cold, wet grass. Her eyes drifted open. A dark sky full of stars stretched overhead. Voices calling out tried to rouse her from her stupor. She couldn’t summon the strength to answer. Bright torchlight swam across her vision and the sharp brown eyes of a woman searched her face.

“Place her in my vardo, quickly,” the woman said, her voice strong despite her age.

“Yes, Shamam,” a male voice answered.

The night began to move again. Campfires and torches lit up the darkness. The light sent little needles into her eyes and she closed them. Rough hands laid her on something soft. The strong voice of the woman flowed around her. Floating in the twilight on the edge of consciousness, Kalila couldn’t quite understand what was said, but they sounded like orders. The softness under her rocked slightly and then warm hands were on her head. Something thick wrapped her in a cocoon.

She drifted in and out of sleep. As her body slowly warmed, she began to feel the pain in her feet again. Her fingers and toes felt like they were on fire. A moan escaped her lips. Why were they trying to set her on fire?

“Shh. It is best if you stay still.”

Kalila opened her eyes. A woman pulled away the thick blankets and replaced them with warm ones. The heat felt lovely, but it seemed to increase the stabbing and burning going on in her toes. She tried to raise her arm, but the woman held it with surprising strength.

“I said to hold still.”

With effort, Kalila found her voice though it was little more than a whisper. “Who are you? Where am I?”

“We are Traders. One of our young men found you and brought you to me. You are in my vardo. I am their Shamam, their healer. My name is Madeir. There is some damage to your toes and fingers from the cold.” Her brown eyes searched Kalila’s. “Who are you and how did you come to be laying naked and nearly frozen on the Ash Plains?”

The Ash Plains. So she was somewhere between Shadereen and Calladar. She couldn’t have wandered into a more empty area. “I escaped. I was trying to get home.”

A furrow appeared between the woman’s eyes. “Escaped from where? Where is home?”

“Markene is home. I escaped…” How did she explain where she escaped from. Who would believe her? There were dragons again. Evil black dragons and multi-colored dragons she didn’t think were evil like the blacks. How could she say that several weeks travel by foot to the east a mountain housed unspeakable evil? This healer would think she was crazy. But she had to try. She had to warn them.

“I escaped from a place called the Kormai–”

Madeir’s sudden, sharp intake of breath stopped her. The healer leaned close, her eyes wide. “The Kormai?” The woman drew back briefly, fear flickering in her eyes. “What is your name? How do you know of the–” she paused and looked around as if afraid someone might be listening. Her voice lowered to a whisper. “How do you know of the Kormai?”

“I was captured and taken there.”

Madeir’s expression was full of doubt. “Your name.”

“I am Kalila, fourth daughter of the King of Markene.

Stunned disbelief replaced the doubt on Madeir’s face. “You…how did you escape? How did you come by these scars on your arms and face?”

Kalila flinched at the memories the woman’s question stirred. She looked away from the earnest brown eyes and stared at the ceiling of the vardo. “Shadows gave me the scars.”

“Shadows?” Confusion filled Madeir’s voice. “How did shadows…never mind. You don’t have to speak of it if you don’t wish.”

An uneasy feeling stirred in Kalila’s stomach. She slowly turned her head to look at the woman. “How do you know about the Kormai?”

Madeir took a deep breath. “I suppose I can tell you. Given what you know and what you are. I am a mage. I can use magic. I was trained in Galdrilene where dragons of beautiful colors live.”

Kalila stared at her. What was wrong with her that she kept running into people and things that shouldn’t be. Except, the multi-colored dragons had–something the woman said tickled her mind. “What do you mean given what I am?”

Madeir smiled, the action emphasizing the lines on her face. “My dear, I have been a senior mage for almost ten years. I can sense budding mages. From what I can sense you have probably used magic at least once already.”

“What!” Kalila started to bolt up, but Madeir’s firm hands on her shoulders held her back and she wasn’t strong enough to fight her. “I cannot use magic. I will not be evil. I will not be what my sister is.”

Madeir shook her head. “You will not be like anyone, but yourself. Your actions are yours to decide. Magic cannot decide your path for you. If your sister chose the darker path it is not the fault of magic. I have used it for a long time, do you think me evil? Galdrilene can teach you to use your magic.”

“I don’t want to go anywhere or learn anything about magic. I want away from it. I want to go home.”

Madeir’s face softened. “Of course you do, child. It’s best if you learn to control your magic so you don’t harm others, but no one can be forced. You must always choose your path freely. Galdrilene will be there if you decide you are ready.” The healer stood and turned toward a small stove, its chimney pipe running out the top of the small box house on wheels.

Kalila didn’t answer. She couldn’t use magic, that was just insanity. Or was it? She remembered the feel of the air around her, alive as it moved across her skin with a feather-light touch. Remembered the air telling her someone was going to steal a book. And she remembered trying to send a message on the air to the invisible person wishing them luck. Had that been magic? If it was...if she could use magic...then what? She should turn herself in for execution before she went insane from it.

Did magic really drive people insane? Sadira was most definitely insane. But what about the others? They were just evil. And then there was Taela, who seemed neither evil nor insane. Taela who had tried to escape with her gray draclet. Did she succeed? And what about the others? Kalila had seen them in the air in the distance, fighting Ranit and the other Shadow Dragons. Were they evil?

She couldn’t go home. Not if she might harm her family because she didn’t know what she was doing.

A delicious aroma filled her nose and pulled her from her thoughts. Madeir helped her to sit and held a cup of steaming tea to her lips. Thirst overwhelmed her and she gulped the hot liquid, burning her tongue but not caring. The heat spread out as it settled in her stomach.

“Now normally, I would have used a variety of herbs to heal your cold damaged fingers and toes, but since you know I can use magic would you oppose the idea of me using it to heal you? It will be far less painful. Luckily it was full dark before Tarin found you. He didn’t bother to look at any injuries, just wrapped you in his cloak and carried you to me as quick as he could.”

The burning in her fingers nearly forgotten during the discussion now intensified as if just thinking about it made it worse. Did she want magic used on her? She eyed the woman warily. She’d never seen magic that didn’t cause pain. She’d never seen healing that didn’t cause pain. The screams of the people Kovan had
healed
echoed through her memory. Would she ever be able to shut them out?

Madeir looked her full in the eyes. “I promise, I will not hurt you.”

Kalila couldn’t suppress her trembling. She closed her eyes and nodded.

Madeir laid her hands on her. Heat spread through Kalila’s body, gathering in her toes and fingers. The pain faded until it was gone. The heat moved on to the cracked and lacerated soles of her feet. It rippled from her toes to her heels. The pain lessened until it was nearly gone. Then the heat receded.

She opened her eyes and looked at Madeir’s face. “Thank you.”

The healer nodded. “I am sorry I could not do more for the soles of your feet. The cold damage in your fingers and toes was new and not too bad yet. But most of the injuries to your soles are older. Injuries left too long don’t heal right. Perhaps a stronger healer could do better.”

“It was more than I ever expected. Thank you, for more than healing me.”

Madeir smiled. “You should rest.”