Wandering Lark (51 page)

Talena snarled something and twisted so that she broke the grasp of one of her escorts. She quickly kicked the other in the knee, knocking him off balance. Then she reached into her jerkin and jerked forth something like a dagger, but before she could draw it completely, King Culann put forth his hand and hissed,
“Adhar clach!”
Alaric opened his mouth to warn Talena too late. She ran headfirst into a wall of hardened air, and the force knocked her flat. Alaric started to leap to her assistance, but Halathor once more restrained him. Other guards rushed in and pulled Talena off the ground. She was dazed and wobbly, and could not resist and they removed the dagger from her hand.

A female guard stepped up then and reached into Talena’s jerkin, searching until she found a small mirror and a medallion. One of the others handed her the dagger. She brought them to the king, kneeling as she held the artifacts out for his inspection. King Culann picked up the mirror first then handed it to a servant. Next, he took up the medallion and shook his head. Alaric could see that the metal disk with its stone was vibrating in his hand. This, King Culann gave into the hands of the servant as well.

Finally, he picked up the dagger. It looked like it was formed from a crystal. At the sight of it, King Culann frowned.

“You were going to use this on me?” he asked as he walked over to Talena. Alaric started to follow, but Halathor held him back and shook his head.

“He will not harm her,” Halathor said.

“Or was this intended for another’s heart?” King Culann asked. He held the dagger up for her inspection.

Talena glared at her captors. Her lips tightened into a hard line, and she refused to answer him. King Culann sighed and shook his head.

“You do not understand,” he said softly. “Such a sacred thing should never be soiled by blood, not even my own. It will be returned to its rightful owner in time. And you will be given time in my cells to think about your allegiance to those who would kill us for what we are, solely because they fear what we are. Take her to the west tower. And do not leave her unguarded.”

“You won’t hurt her?” Alaric watched as they dragged Talena towards another smaller set of doors.

The king turned to him and smiled. “No, Magister Alaric. We have no desire to spill her blood, no more than we want to spill the blood of her kinsmen in Garrowye who keep trying to invade our borders with their armies. But long ago when the Balance of the World was changed, the lines were drawn, and we find ourselves forced to defend our land from the Temples of the Triad. The Temple Patriarchs would seek to destroy all those who follow the path of the elders.” He held up the dagger. “This was never meant to be in their possession. Even now, I can feel the poison they have fed it with their lies and their deceit, just as I feel the stolen lives of those who discover their heritage and paid for it with their deaths. It is a sad thing to deny what one truly is. Her people have done so too long.”

“You’re mageborn then?”

“Mageborn? Magister? They are the same in your world?” The king looked thoughtful as he spoke.

Alaric nodded.

“All of us here are...mageborn, as you say,” King Culann said and tapped the crystal dagger in the palm of his hand. “We have been so since the beginning of time when the Great Dragons were created by the Giant Ymir.”

Horns, how he wished Fenelon was here.

“May I ask the king how old he is?” Alaric ventured.

King Culann smiled generously this time, wrinkling the skin around his eyes. “I have seen over two hundred summers, and for the last fifty of those, I have been king. My lovely wife has seen twenty-five years less than I. We wed when I turned one hundred, even though I was told she was too young to be a bride yet. My son has just turned fifty...”

“Fifty?” Alaric looked at the child now leaning into his mother.

“This amazes you?” King Culann asked.

“Yes. In my land, mageborn live long lives, but if what you say is true then I am younger than your son.”

King Culann laughed. “Do not be alarmed. There are many places in the world where those born to magic age much faster than we. And some who are still but children though they have seen ten times our age.”

“Yet...those who are mageborn in Garrowye seem to age faster,” Alaric said. “I saw one of them...she looked ancient, but I was told she was only a few years older than me. I assumed it was because she had not learned to tap into the essence of the world...”

“In that, you are correct, Magister Alaric,” King Culann said. “The Temples have seen to it that the Aelfyn of Garrowye no longer understand their connection to the world. So those who are most attuned to it are trained to refrain from being a part of it...and yes, this ages them considerably. Even your companion...” He gestured towards the door through which Talena was dragged but moments before. “...Is unaware of her true heritage. Hopefully, we will be able to convince her that it is all right to tap into the world.”

“Talena is mageborn?” Alaric frowned. “But I thought she just had mage blood in her.”

“She is half Tannish,” King Culann said. “That is what she had denied. Alas, I feel too that it has colored her loyalties for many years. Do you know what she wants to do? She seeks vengeance against the Temples of the Triad. She wants to make them pay for the death of her father and mother.”

“How do you know?”

King Culann held up the dagger. “The memory is in here now. The crystal tear absorbs the anger and resentment of those who hold it, for it was created in pain.”

“In pain?”

“Yes. You see, this was one of the White Dragon’s tears. She wept to see the destruction her sister brought upon the land, and this fell to the earth, and it was cleansed. But then, some say it was found and taken by a greedy peasant who carried it for years before the Temple of the Triad rose to power. Like as not, the Temple came by it when they were on one of their searches for those they call
heretics
, and I am willing to venture that the poor fool who took it was accused, condemned and burned for being little more than a thief.”

King Culann shook his head.

“Tell me about this White Dragon,” Alaric said.

“All will be explained.” The king turned towards his palace. “Ah, Sedar comes,” he said.

Alaric peered into the shadows under the dragon archway. A tall, willowy figure stepped into view. Male? Female? He could not be sure. The creature wore robes of white that hid gender and shape. What he could see was a face, oval and pale as milk. The iridescence of the creature’s skin reminded him of tiny scales or a coating of diamond dust.

But that was about all he had time to see. For as the creature called Sedar stepped into the light, it focused an almost reptilian blue gaze on Alaric. Those eyes widened, and the serene androgynous features changed rapidly to a mask of unbridled fury.

“Ancient kin, you dare return here!” the creature hissed, and in less than two bounds, it descended the stairs. The robes flared back to reveal sinewy arms and legs...and claws. The hands seemed to be growing talons like daggers. A long tail suddenly appeared from under the robes as well, and the end of it was a gleaming hook of steel. The air became filled with the bitterness of cinnamon and cloves, burning into Alaric’s tongue.

Demon!
Sedar is a demon!

Alaric felt Ronan stir inside him as rage and fear swelled. But Alaric just wanted to get out of the reach of those advancing claws, so he backed away. Sedar screamed and lunged just as the king stepped aside. Stretching forth his hand, Alaric shouted,
“Gath siud buail!”
and sent a mage bolt flying at the creature. To his surprise, the white demon dodged the bolt as sinuously as a snake and continued to advance on him.

Alaric backed into Vagner who rose to his full height with a scream of his own. The demon wrapped one wing protectively around Alaric. Claws, teeth and lashing tail seemed to be everywhere around him now. Guards fled, leaving as much room as the huge courtyard would allow.

“Sedar, what is the matter?” King Culann called.

Sedar clearly did not answer to the king of Taneslaw. In fact, the creature was beyond reason. The white demon lashed at Alaric and screamed, “You dare come back in this guise, traitor! I will eat your essence!”

Alaric covered his ears against the unearthly shriek of its voice. Each time Sedar lashed out with claw and tail, Vagner would counter with the same. The creatures circled one another like seasoned fighters. Vagner pulled Alaric close under one arm and roared at the other demon.

Sedar slashed again, and this time Vagner countered with his tail. Snarling, Sedar rushed as though planning to bowl the both of them over. Vagner merely tightened his grasp around Alaric and sprang into the air. Screaming, Sedar leaped after them, snagging Vagner’s ankle in a powerful grasp and yanking him back down to the ground. It was like being part of a whip. Vagner hit the ground hard and lost his grip on Alaric who rolled off to one side and landed roughly on his back, cracking the back of his head against the white marble ground. Pain shot through him and he gritted his teeth. He looked up just as Sedar started to pounce.

“Sedar, hold!” A voice filled the air. Many voices filled the one, and all were strangely familiar. The white demon suddenly broke off its attack, backing down and crouching in submission. Everyone else went to one knee. Even Vagner who had risen unsteadily dropped into a frightened crouch, sidling close to Alaric for protection.

Alaric sat up and looked towards the top of the stairs. Though his head was spinning from the harsh landing, he was still able to focus.

What he saw was an abundance of white, but it was more the dazzle of light playing across white than of size. The speaker began to descend the stairs.

It was a Dvergar, a long-bearded, white-haired, white-skinned Dvergar all dressed in brightness and leaning on a crystal staff. But for his mutated size, he—yes, it looked to be male in Alaric’s opinion—seemed to move with the utmost of grace. No one spoke as the Dvergar descended to the level of the courtyard and stopped at Sedar’s side. The demon’s monstrous shape seemed to diminish into that of a sylph-like woman of great height. She kept her head bowed.

“Shame on you, Sedar,” the Dvergar said.

The demon dropped lower, but the Dvergar merely put a fond hand on her head and kissed her now flowing hair.

“Master Fion,” King Culann said, carefully coming forward and kneeling at the Dvergar’s side. “We were not expecting you...”

“Indeed,” Fion said and smiled warmly. “It would appear that it was a good thing I did choose to come and see this Magister of the Far Land for myself. Otherwise, Sedar would have eaten him and destroyed the Balance of All Things in doing so.”

Thank the gods for small favors,
Alaric thought, and then winced when Master Fion turned those crystal-colored eyes on him.

Somewhere deep inside, Alaric thought he heard Ronan secretly chuckle.

Desura had been monitoring the mirror
Talena carried when she felt Talena disappear from scrying range. How could that be? Frantic, she pushed at the scrying stone, eager to find the mirror and its bearer. But no matter how hard she tried, the mirror would not reveal its whereabouts.

She could not fail now, not when all her plans to earn her freedom from the Temple were at stake. She deepened her concentration on the water in the stone bowl. The thunder of her own heart pounded in her ears as she reached farther than she had ever tried to reach before.

There was white all around her vision. White filled the water of the scrying stone like the sun. The brilliance blinded her eyes, yet she peered at it, refusing to turn away, refusing to stop.
The mirror!
Where is the mirror?
Where is Talena?
Her cousin had to be there.

And then the whiteness broke, and she saw a face of a winsome youth. He was close to the mirror, so close she thought he could see her through it. Indeed, he arched one eyebrow before passing the mirror on to another who slipped it under some sort of cover. But that was all the vision she needed to know that Talena no longer held the mirror.

But who was that youth, dressed in green and crowned in white gold who had peered at her with rich blue eyes.

Heretic. He had to be a heretic.

But the crown...

A prince? Or was it...the king.

Desura deepened her concentration, determined to bring the vision back into the bowl. She forced her awareness into the water, drawing power from her weakening core, traveling through it over land and under ground until she was there again, slipping in through a fountain in the courtyard of a great palace where all was white.