Echoes in the Dark (33 page)

“We
all know of Earth’s global warming,” Alexa said grimly.

“But
Earth doesn’t have a great deal of Power,” Marian said.

“Not
magic,” Marrec, Calli’s husband agreed. He was the only Lladranan man who’d
been to Earth. “But it has some other
power.
There was a tang, a
metallic taste in the air.”

Koz,
Marian’s brother, also from Earth, stared at everyone, then said, “Nuclear
power. Fusion. What could a being like this do with that sort of power?”

“What
it has done for millennia, to Amee and other worlds. Leech on it, feed, until
the world is dying or dead, move on.”

A
shudder went through the room.

“But
why would it leave the gong?” Raine asked.

Luthan
said, “I think it was strong from its last feed, the energy of killing a
planet, the last of the life force. It arrived here, a miscalculation. Cold, it
had to hurry. There might also have been attacks on it from whatever creatures
Amee had summoned to defend her. It was not in a hot volcano, but in cool
hills. It left the gong. Or—” Luthan’s brows came down “—it thought it would
destroy Amee quickly, come back for the gong when everything was dead.”

Staring
in fascinated disgust at the gong, Marian said, “Do you think the gong itself
can open a dimensional portal?”

Koz
answered his sister. “Perhaps, maybe that’s why all the Summonings here to the
Temple have been successful. But I think there’s a natural portal at Singer’s
Abbey.”

Now
everyone looked at him.

Shrugging,
Koz continued. “The Singer wouldn’t let me in the Abbey but I could feel the
energy.” He rubbed the back of his neck as if hair had risen there. “I’ve learned
a lot about interdimensional energy working with placing mirrors on Earth for
Bri and Raine.” He gave them a warm half smile.

Marian
asked, “Bossgond?”

But
the small man was already coming through the crowd, people moving aside from
the sheer force of the Powerful aura surrounding him. He was skinny and ugly,
but there was no mistaking his magic. He walked right up to the gong and
sniffed,
backed away without touching it. “Definitely not from Amee.” He coughed. “Older
than anything I’ve ever sensed.”

“Well,
if the Dark wants the gong, let’s give the thing to it.” Alexa’s smile was
fierce.

Everyone
shuddered. “Are you crazy?” Marian asked.

“No.
Listen to me.” Alexa raised her baton and everyone stepped back. Raine bumped
into Faucon and he put his hands on her shoulders, strong and comforting.

“If
the gong is that mysterious and dangerous, we should take it with us to destroy
it when we blow the island.”

“The
Dark will send everything it has after you, all the horrors, the Master, come
itself…” Bossgond said.

Alexa
said, “That will take time. If the horrors and the Master are busy fighting
Marshalls and Chevaliers on the
outside
of the mountain, and we’re down
the old lava tube and inside…”

Raine
hadn’t heard any specific plans before, wanted not to know, maybe even to run.
Faucon massaged her tense shoulders.

Alexa
turned to Marian, whose mouth had dropped open. “You were in the Nest. How much
do you think the Dark moves?”

Marian
trembled, Jaquar pulled her against his body and wrapped his arms around her, his
mouth grim. Then she answered. “I only sensed it. I interacted with the former
Master. I don’t know. Perhaps the Dark doesn’t move at all.”

“Can’t
be very fast.” Alexa flipped her baton. Fire in her eyes, she looked at Luthan.
“You’ve been having a lot of visions about the battle and the outcome, I know,
and you don’t tell me hardly anything, but tell us all this. What’s the
percentage of times that the Dark slithers away from that battle?”

Luthan
hesitated, and the silence in the Temple was complete, only the faint tinkle of
water from a small fountain breaking it.

“Luthan?”
Alexa prompted.

“In
all the times I’ve had the visions, the Dark has only escaped twice.” His lips
went grim an instant before he went on. “Most of the time it is destroyed, in
slightly less of the visions it is damaged for eons.”

“So
we take the gong.” Alexa nodded decisively. Despite her smile and the bursting
of the top of her baton into flames, she put her free hand in her husband’s and
her words echoed hollowly around the room.

There
was cheeping and flapping and the three birdlike feycoocus circled down to land
on the frame surrounding the gong.

We
can hide the gong from the Dark and will take charge of it during the final
spell,
Sinafinal said.
We will put it in a crevice. The Dark will go after it, not
you.

There
was silence, then Marian said, “Fine.”

The
feycoocus whistled approval and flicked their wings.

Raine
felt Alexa’s optimism, that of everyone else in the room. But it was hope. At
the core was the lingering knowledge that those who went into the battle could
all perish.

Singer’s Abbey

T
he next morning
Jikata was in the practice room that was good for “creating” spells. She
snorted. She thought the Singer just liked moving her around, keeping her off
balance, though it was true that the colorful wallpaper in this room was
studded with Power crystals as part of the pattern. She’d never seen the like
either here or on Earth. The whole place gave her a buzz.

She
was becoming accustomed to the buzz or hum or melody or her whole damn
life-soundtrack of Power, tried to be blasé about it and thought her manner
covered a lot of the daily surprises. Keeping the Singer and her Friends off
guard.

She
smiled.

One
of the windows had an excellent view of the horse and volaran stables down the
way, which she studied. She still hadn’t been outside the Abbey walls, met any
of the flying horses that Chasonette told her were telepathic, and yearned to.
Jikata was getting restless, like some internal clock was counting down.

Despite
the warm tones of great Power that imbued the chamber, she felt isolated. As
isolated here as at home in the States. She just recognized it easier.

Today
the knot spellbook was open to a successful harvest, one that prayed for good
weather, no accidents with sharp implements. She shook her head. She knew
precious little about harvest.

Yet
as she scanned the spell, she recognized it was a good one. Simple. Strong. Essential.

Idly,
she turned the pages, stopped when words caught at her. “To Summon Friends.”
Her heart picked up a beat…dared she? She had no idea when the Singer would
appear, always a power play, or whether she’d be Singing with the others. The
harvest spell could be Sung by as little as one “of the Singer apprentice
level”—and that word still stung—or “a chorus of ten good voices.” If
organizing meetings here was anything like on Earth, it wasn’t surprising that
knot spell casting had faded away for simpler methods.

To
Summon Friends.
Again she studied the large window empty of anyone she knew, anyone familiar
with who she was. Not Jikata the popular singer so much as Jikata the
Earthling. Alexa had welcomed Marian warmly and Jikata thought Alexa would do
the same for her. From what Jikata had read in Marian’s book, curiosity was a
driving force and might be counted upon to bring her.

The
spell would “call to” three friends—which three of the five Exotiques? Alexa
and Marian, since Jikata knew them better because she’d read of them? Who else?
Wouldn’t it be interesting to find out? The knot needed blue floss ranging from
dark blue to sky blue, six stranded silk. She opened a small cabinet and pulled
out a drawer. Her hand went to the mixed blue, the exact shades.

She
glanced at the text—the amount of floss needed was a wrist length. She lifted a
skein.

“If
you attempt that, they may knock at my walls,” the Singer said.

Jikata
flinched inwardly, smoothed her face into a mask. She put the floss back into
its proper place, pushed the drawer into the cabinet and turned to meet the
Singer.

She
stood on the threshold, hands folded at her waist, a frown between her brows.
Her eyes were calculating, head tilted as if she examined Jikata’s Song—sensing
restlessness? Jikata hoped not,
she
was in charge of her own life.
“Ayes?” Jikata raised her brows.

The
Singer glided forward. Jikata stood her ground. The Singer didn’t even glance
at the book before humming one note. Pages flipped back to the harvest lesson.
She took her usual throne seat, this one was wooden and brightly gilded, the
cushions a deep, rich brown.

“Should
you Sing that spell and knot that knot, then release it, the other Exotiques
will be knocking at my walls. You have much to learn, are not ready to leave.”

The
more the Singer said that, the more Jikata disagreed.

“You
have not finished the Lorebooks?” the Singer asked.

“I’m
reading Marian’s,” Jikata said.

The
Singer’s head turned sharply, then she hesitated.

Something
was in Marian’s Lorebook—Jikata would have to read faster.

Lifting
and dropping one shoulder in an overly casual manner, the Singer said, “The
Exotiques have agendas.”

Who
didn’t?

For
an instant there seemed to be the sound of multiple voices in the back of
Jikata’s mind, but they faded, along with the impulse to be with them.

The
Singer’s lips tightened, then she said, “Luthan has been deleterious in his
reports.” She turned to Jikata and repeated, “The Exotiques have their own
agenda regarding you.” The Singer smiled and it wasn’t nice. “You will be ready
for your task when
I
say you are ready.”

She
waved a hand and the door opened, the boys and women who approximated the
Exotiques surged in, varying expressions of concern on their faces. For her? Or
for the Singer? Perhaps these, too, were friends. She’d worked with them and
valued them, treating them well. As the Singer hadn’t.

Whether
they were friends or not, they were only “a good chorus of voices.” They could
never be the quality and strength and the Power of the Exotiques.

Jikata
was sure that the Singer wouldn’t let her go until the Exotiques demanded her
for “their agenda.” Then Jikata would feel like a commodity, as she had a few
times before in her life. She hadn’t liked it.

No.

She
could cast the knot spell to bring friends—strangers who could be friends—but,
no. This was
her
life and she would take action.

She
smiled a true welcome to the other singers, turned a false one on the Singer,
who studied her, nodded complacently. Was this why the Singer’s Thomas had
returned to Earth? Had the Singer always been so sure of herself, misread
people of Earth background? Hadn’t worked to understand them? Sad.

The
Singer Sang the first line of the knot spell and the cabinet opened and strands
of living green and rich dirt brown and straw yellow floated out and settled on
the book. Jikata hit her cue along with the others and she Sang.

And
plotted.

24

Marshalls’
Castle

M
aking love to
Faucon all night long had been simply delicious. He’d had a little leftover
wildness from the battle, from the triumph of stopping the horrors and raising
a fence post, and Raine had loved every energetic moment of it. Every slide of
body against body, every rough word and urgent demand.

Raine
smiled and stretched against fine linen sheets. Delicious. She blinked at the
light in the room. Another sunny day, and that was reason for smiling, too.

The
door swung open and Faucon walked in with a tray that smelled of ham and eggs
and warm toast from fresh bread that had Raine’s mouth watering. “Hey, sexy,”
she said.

He
looked a little startled, then put an extra swagger in his step. His chest and
feet were bare, the lower half of his body encased in black leather pants.

“Breakfast
for us both.” He set the tray over her lap, settled beside her against thick
pillows, grabbed a piece of toast and a fork and ate some scrambled eggs.

They
ate companionably. This felt simply
right
to Raine. She was tired of
thinking about the future, worrying about it, letting it shadow her. She’d deal
with it when it came.

She
sipped orange juice, let it lay on her tongue to savor the sweetness. Even here
at the Castle, orange juice was rare, but Faucon was a merchant prince. Though
he looked more like a scruffy rogue with his light beard, longish tousled hair
and worn leathers.

He
drank from his crystal goblet, sent her a sideways glance. “Last day of trials
today.”

A
piece of ham got caught in her throat. She swallowed it down. “Then what?”

“Alexa
and the rest are impatient to move north.” He cleared his throat, seemed to
study the brownness of his toast. “They ‘won’ the discussion with the Circlets
and the invasion will leave from my northern estate, Creusse Landing.”