The D'Karon Apprentice (26 page)

“If you aren’t my daughter, then why have you
got her birthmark?” she said, her tone playful.

“I have assumed her form. My name is
Ether.”

“Assumed her form? You’re not speaking sense,
child.”

Ether could feel her patience waning.

“I am a shapeshifter, and I assumed your
daughter’s form to better interact with humans, who are not
comfortable with my true forms.”

Celia shook her head dismissively and picked
up the paddle to return to the cauldron. “Don’t play games with
your mother, dear. Now I know you’ve got very important matters
inside, and it means so much to me that you took the time to see
me, so let’s not dillydally. Tell me, how have you
been
?”

“Do not dismiss me, human,” Ether fumed.

“Now really, Emelia, that is no way to talk
to your mother.”

“You are
not
my mother.”

As she spoke, Ether abandoned her human form,
shifting effortlessly to a roughly human shape composed of crystal
clear water.

Celia stood stone still. She raised one hand
to her mouth, and her breath caught in her throat. A spectrum of
emotions came across her face. Shock, fear, and confusion gripped
her features, but slowly she reached out a hand and touched it to
what had, moments before, been the skin of a woman she believed to
be her daughter.

The older woman’s fingers touched Ether’s
cheek, sending a ripple across her face. When she pulled them away,
a drop of water clung to them, running down her fingers. She
watched in disbelief, then looked at Ether one last time before her
legs suddenly refused to support her any longer.

In a wave of bluish light that swept over
Ether’s whole form in the blink of an eye, she shifted from water
to ice and reached out with her now solid fingers to catch the
woman under the arms.

“Are you satisfied?” Ether asked, her face
crackling as she spoke.

“B-bring her back. Bring Emelia back,” Celia
said, her voice bordering on terror now as she steadied herself
against a table.

Ether released Celia and shifted with
somewhat less speed and somewhat more care to her human form again,
ice shifting to flesh, bone, and cloth.

The old woman’s breathing slowed. “Ether… you
said your name was Ether…”

“I am pleased you are finally
comprehending.”

“The… Guardian of the Realm?”

“Yes.”

“I… I’m honored to meet you.”

“Now that this has been settled, I will be on
my way.”

Ether turned to the door.

“Why my daughter?” Celia asked urgently.

The shapeshifter turned back.

“It was a matter of convenience. She was the
nearest human when the need for form arose. It is simpler to
duplicate a form than to manifest a unique one.”

“Where is she? Why was she near?”

“Your daughter is dead.”

Celia released a breath and stepped back. As
intensely as she’d been tossed about by the revelations of the last
few minutes, this blunt statement seemed to have the least impact
of all. There were tears, but she did not sob or break down. She
merely nodded, took another breath, and let the tears of sorrow mix
with the tears of joy from moments before.

“Of course… she was an officer in the
Alliance Army. It was… it was foolish to imagine she might have
lived this long. So few do. Was it a good death? A worthy one?”

“She died in combat, serving the generals
directly.”

Again she nodded. “Good… good, she would have
been happy to know it. A proud death. A noble one.”

“I have reason to believe she was under the
control of the general called Epidime. I assure you, it was neither
proud nor noble.”

“No,” Celia said, wiping her tears away. “You
may know how she looked, but it is clear you did not know Emelia.
It was…” She paused, lest a tremor find her voice. “It was the
death she would have wanted. Did she suffer?”

“She was killed by a sharp sword and a
skilled hand. It was very swift. I don’t imagine there was much
pain.”

“Good. Good. Thank you for taking the time to
set me straight. I’m sorry to have bothered you. I won’t take any
more of your time.”

Again Celia picked up her paddle and put it
to work stirring the cauldron of laundry. Ether stood, studying the
old woman. The shapeshifter’s face was creased with confusion.

“Why?” Ether said.

Celia did not answer. Her eyes focused on her
work and her ears unable to alert her. Ether touched the woman’s
shoulder and Celia turned to her.

“Why?” she asked again.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand what you are
asking,” Celia said.

“When you believed your daughter was alive,
you were overcome. There were tears and exclamations. You embraced
me repeatedly. Now that I’ve given you what I understand is the
worst news a mortal can receive of a loved one, you simply return
to your task. Why? Why are you overcome with joy, but not overcome
with grief?”

“This isn’t the first time I’ve received this
news, child. Oh, I mean… I’m afraid I don’t know how to address
you.”

“I don’t care what you call me. Answer my
question,” Ether said.

“I have lost a husband, a son, and…
two
daughters.”

“It becomes easier with each loss?”

“No. Heavens no. Never easier. Just more
familiar. It isn’t a surprise any longer. You know the pain, how
deep it will cut. And you know that you can go on.”

“You had a husband. You loved him?”

“Of course I did.”

“And he loved you?”

“Of course.”

“You haven’t replaced him.”

“
Replaced
him? You can never replace
someone you truly love. You might find someone new to love, but
that isn’t the same. Not by a long shot.”

“Then how did you forget him?”

“Forget him! Perish the thought! There isn’t
a day that goes by that I don’t think about him.”

Ether stepped forward. “Then
how
? How
do you cope with the void within you? How do you go on knowing
someone you were destined to share eternity with is gone?”

Celia looked deeply into Ether’s eyes. The
shapeshifter blinked and felt a tear roll down her cheek. She
turned away, feeling a hot flush of anger at her lack of
control.

The older woman put a hand to Ether’s cheek.
“You lost someone, too.”

Ether stepped away from the woman’s touch and
ignored the observation. “Others seem to throw themselves into
their purpose, their calling. Others say things like family and
career can fill one’s mind and plug the holes within. But what of
you? Have you any family?”

“I have a sister, but she lives near the
Dagger Gales. I haven’t seen her in fifteen years.”

“Then you have no family, and your duty is to
simple things like carrying bags and washing clothes. Why do you go
on? What drives you? How do you continue to live your life when
there is nothing else for you to do or to become?”

Celia smiled sadly. “We just go on. Sometimes
the promise of another day is all we have. I may have lost my
family, but they are still with me in my heart and my mind. I carry
them with me, and as long as I carry on, so do they. That’s
enough.”

“It takes great strength to do such a thing.
I would not have imagined a mortal would be able to bear such a
weight.”

“I suppose it is the sort of weight mortals
are best suited to bear.”

Ether turned aside, the words filtering
through her mind. She tightened her fists and felt the sudden,
intense desire to be free of this place. “I will leave you to your
work,” she said before turning to the door.

“Wait,” Celia said quickly.

“What is it?” Ether said, turning back.

“… Thank you for telling me what happened to
my girl. And for letting me see her face again. This is the first
time I’ve ever been able to say goodbye.”

Ether lingered, eyes upon this frail woman.
“Goodbye, Celia.”

#

Turiel’s eyes fluttered open. She was in
total darkness, and she was lying on a cold stone floor. For a few
moments, her addled mind disregarded the events of the last few
months, and she believed that she was back in her cave, eagerly
awaiting the return of Teht for further instructions.

Gradually her thoughts cleared, and she
hauled herself unsteadily to her feet.

“Ugh… the portal spell requires a bit more
nuance to cast than the keyhole,” she said, shaking her head.
“Still, if it only cost me a brief slide into and out of
unconsciousness, I must have been close to proper execution. Not
bad for a first casting.”

She took a step forward and thumped into
something heavy and wooden. Quietly cursing herself, she stirred
the air with her staff and conjured a deep violet light. It spilled
across her surroundings and revealed a small, cramped room. A heavy
wooden desk sat near the center and shelves stood along two walls,
but each seemed to have been largely stripped of its contents. The
whole room had the overall feel of a place that was in the process
of being moved.

Dust had caked most of the surfaces. She ran
her fingers through it.

“This place hasn’t been disturbed for weeks,
or longer… Not a good sign. Teht insisted Bagu could almost always
be found at this portal point.”

Turiel peered at the wall. A map of the
Northern Alliance was mounted there. It was stunningly
comprehensive, with every city named and detailed in intricate
writing.

“Troops… armories. There
has
been a
war…” she observed. “And where are the borders? How… how could the
whole of the north have allied? How long has it been…”

She shuffled in the dim light to the desk. A
carefully written piece of parchment rested on it, its lettering
large and highly visible.

“‘The contents of this room are the work of
dark magic. Any and all items found within are potentially tainted
with D’Karon magic. Do not disturb anything without the blessing
and guidance of palace mystics,’” Turiel read aloud. She snatched
the parchment and crumpled it. “A matter best left to students of
the D’Karon, that much is certain.”

The front of the desk had six large
cubbyholes, each stuffed with small boxes and tightly rolled
scrolls. She pulled open the first of the scrolls. Her eyes darted
across the words.

“Death toll… Production schedule… By the
order of General Bagu…” She pulled out scroll after scroll.
“Seasonal reports… Going back so many years… Gods, is it true? It
can’t
be. This isn’t possible… It isn’t
possible
… The
D’Karon wouldn’t have bothered to take sides in a petty squabble…
And if they did, the D’Karon have too much power, too many
resources. It
wouldn’t
have lasted this long unless they’d
deemed it necessary. They would have had to
choose
to let
the war last. There must be an explanation. There
must!
”

Turiel had not taken care to keep her voice
down, and as her muttering turned to raving, voices began to filter
through the thick door.

“Who is searching the general’s chamber?”
barked a voice angrily. “You know the chamber is off limits. I
don’t want to have to deliver another letter of condolence to the
family of a foolhardy guard who didn’t know a D’Karon trap when he
found it.”

“No one has been assigned to search Bagu’s
chambers, Commander. It has remained barred for weeks.”

“Well then get this door open! There is
someone in there, I can hear them.”

Turiel muttered irritably at the bothersome
din outside her door. “It seems my countrymen have become
inconsiderate in my absence.”

She pulled boxes from the desk and dumped out
their contents, shuffling madly through them in search of some
indication of why it seemed the D’Karon had both dirtied their
hands with a war between the locals and held themselves back in
order to allow it to continue.

Thumping footsteps and bellowing voices in
the hallway went silent, then splintering creaks began to shake the
door on its hinges. Turiel ignored them, abandoning the largely
logistical matters she’d found in Bagu’s desk and instead turning
to the artifacts that had not yet been hauled away. At the base of
one largely cleared shelf sat a sizeable chest. It was wrapped in
heavy chains and secured with a stout lock. She drove her staff’s
tip into the lock and conjured a coil of black tendrils that tore
it apart from within.

Turiel flipped the lid open. Behind her the
door was beginning to succumb to the prying and pulling of the
castle guards on the other side. She paid it no heed. What was
before her was far too important.

Four things were nestled in the chest,
ensconced in straw to keep them from damage. Three were brightly
glowing crystals, each with the same violet color of the one
mounted in her staff. The fourth was a large sand timer lying on
its side. Her hand shook as she reached for it, as though it was a
sacred artifact.

“The portal glass…” she breathed, clutching
one of the brass struts that connected the mounting plates on the
top and bottom.

She slid the device upright, then removed her
other hand from her staff to more securely grasp the precious
piece. Her weapon remained upright, drifting in the air beside her.
A slight twitch of her head sent a wave of energy from her staff,
blasting the pages and scrolls from the desk to clear it for the
far more precious discovery.

Once she’d set it down, Turiel scrutinized
it. All of the sand had gathered in the bottom bulb. She grasped
the supports and inverted it. Rather than spilling through the
pinch of the timer in a thin stream, the fine sand fell to the
center but remained in the top bulb.

“No… no, the moment they arrived they began
work on the full portal. The sand should flow.” She shook the timer
violently. Not a single grain fell through a pinch that was more
than large enough to allow it. Her eyes darted about. “This can
only mean that the portal is completed. The key is turned, the door
is opened. But… but why can’t I feel it?”