Wandering Lark (48 page)

“And since when
do
mageborn have laws?” Bran said. “We live our lives, we cause no harm to the mortalborn, and that is all that matters.”

“Do not try to distract me with your rhetorical blethering, Bran,” Turlough said. “You may think yourself safe here as a king’s right hand, but you can and will be brought before the Council for being a part of this conspiracy. I will have every mageborn who dares to defy me on this matter sundered of their power. Do you truly wish to join that list?”

Bran shook his head. “I repeat what I have said. I do not know where Fenelon has gone. I only know that he bade me to get a message to Etienne Savala by whatever means possible that she was to wait for him in Blue Oak.”

“And did you get this message to her?” Turlough said.

Bran hesitated then nodded.

“And where was she when you delivered it, may I ask?”

“Someplace called Greenwillow,” Bran said.

“Greenwillow,” Turlough said. “Now that was not so hard, was it, Bran? You do yourself no disservice by revealing this to me. Go back to your King now. I’m sure he needs you to tell him which color robe to wear to dinner tonight.”

Turlough turned away and started to open a gate back to Dun Gealach.

“Lord Magister,” Bran called.

“Yes?” Turlough glanced back over his shoulder at the giant man who leaned on his staff and grinned like a gargoyle.

“You do realize that one day, the Council will be voting to replace you...”

Turlough curled his lip in rage. “Not as long as there is breath in me,” he snarled.

Shouting his gate spell, he tore open the fabric of the world and stepped through the whorl.

Lorymer was waiting in the chamber where Turlough arrived. He glowered at his assistant. “Well, don’t just stand there!” he snarled. “Make ready to go to Greenwillow in Ross-Mhor! Find someone who knows the way and get me a gate there now!”

Looking startled, Lorymer managed a hurried bow and rushed out of the chambers. Turlough stormed over to the fireplace and claimed his favorite chair. He growled
“Loisg!”
and brought the embers and wood to a roaring blaze that quickly warmed the room.

Fools, all of them. To defy him. To think they could deceive him. He knew how much they hated him.

They will all learn who is master one day,
he thought darkly.

Alaric was the first to admit
that things didn’t quite feel right now. On the one hand, there was magic here—lots of it, and he could sense that it was neither benign nor hostile. It was just there, as though it had always been a part of the whole world and ever would be. On the other hand, he kept getting the impression that the appearance of the land was deceiving.

Once they forded a shallow river that lie on the edge of the Cursed Dales, they were heading into a thick forest of ancient trees. Alaric took a deep breath and noticed that the air had a sweet taste. Was that part of the magic as well? Ronan had retreated again, after instructing Alaric to find the road and head through the forest and over the mountain pass.

So far, Alaric had seen nothing that resembled a road.

Talena kept one hand on her sword. She looked at the trees as though she expected them to leap on her at any moment.

The late afternoon sun angled through the rifts in the trees, spreading a dappled carpet of light across the ground. Though autumn, there was a hint of spring in the air. Did winter ever come to this place?

“I don’t like this,” Talena whispered.

“What’s the matter now?” Alaric asked.

“I keep getting the feeling that the trees have eyes,” she said.

Well, he couldn’t fault her there. The same sensation was starting to haunt him as well.
Vagner?
he thought.
Do you sense anything?

The demon sniffed the air more in the manner of a dog, then flared nostrils like a true horse.
I’m not sure,
the demon’s voice whispered in Alaric’s head, and he felt the thrum of the bond they shared as sharp as a knife’s edge on his nerves. As if the magic in this place was enhancing the thread that bound man and demon as one.
There are many smells here that remind me of things I think I have forgotten.

But do you sense anyone alive?

Everything here smells alive,
the demon thought back.

Alaric sighed. He wished Ronan would come forth and say something. As annoyed as he had felt at the bard spirit’s secretive ways lately, he still needed that guidance. Speaking the language of Garrowye seemed perfectly natural on his tongue, more so the closer to his destination he came. He couldn’t help wondering how much of himself he was losing? Or what he had gained.

But Ronan seemed to be hiding now, and no manner of coaxing would bring him forth. This puzzled Alaric all the more. If the wall was gone from his mind, where was Ronan hiding?

Horns, he wished Fenelon and the others were here. He glanced at a flowering shrub as they passed it and saw a multitude of bees hovering around the blossoms. Odd...he thought bees only gathered pollen in the spring.

Bees...

Horns, he wondered how Shona was faring. Was she even alive? He would have given anything to see her now. She would have been squealing and begging him to chase away the bees. The thought made him smile slightly with distraction...

...And then he heard Talena shout.

Alaric turned just in time to see several of the trees moving, their roots pulling out of the ground. They stood up like spiders, dribbling clumps of earth from uneven legs as they closed together so that there was only one path ahead.

“Go!” he shouted to Talena, and hoped she would obey. A glance over his shoulder showed him more of the trees were drawing their roots out of the soil and starting after him. Without thinking, he slammed heels into Vagner’s sides. The demon leapt forward, nearly unseating Alaric. He barely managed to cling to the mane and the saddle. “Go!” Alaric shouted again, and leaned over Vagner’s neck. The demon stretched out his pace and surged ahead, catching up with Kessa.

Like a gauntlet, the trees closed in, forcing the riders to follow a specific trail. Behind them, the trees would close over the path, leaving no sign of where they had come from. Always ahead, there was the gap.

Ronan, what is happening?
Alaric cried in his own head.

Suddenly, the gap widened out. The trees stopped forming up. Alaric and Talena rode into a grove where old ruins had been shrouded in vines and moss. They clattered into the middle of some sort of courtyard where marble flagstones had been laid. Talena dragged Kessa to a halt and looked back just as Alaric reached her side.

The trees were not crossing the edge of the ruins. In fact, they had gone back to being ordinary trees again. He could see through them...see the road they had taken as though it had always been there.

“What sort of magic was that?” Talena hissed.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Alaric said. His own heart was thundering with excitement and anger. Why had Ronan said nothing?

He glanced around at the ruins now. White marble peeped out from under the green. The marking looked vaguely familiar...

Shadow Vale. The heart of the volcano wherein he had battled Tane Doran. He had seen their likeness there.

“This looks like a temple,” Alaric said.

“It is a temple,” Talena said and frowned. “A heretic temple. We should go back...”

“Through those trees?” Alaric asked.

She shot him a hard look as though she was about to reply. Then she shook her head. “We’ll find another way,” she said instead.

“There is no other way...”

Both Alaric and Talena turned at the sound of that voice. It was deep and rich, and sent delightful chills through Alaric’s flesh.

“Once you have passed the guardians of the first wood, you have no choice but to go on...”

“Who’s there?” Alaric called. He scanned the woods and the ruins with eyes and mage senses, but he saw no one.

Talena started to draw her sword when white light sprang up from the edges of the marble ruins, forcing her to hide her eyes from its brilliance.

“Draw not your steel in this sacred place,”
the voice said.

“Show yourself!” she shouted.

“In time,”
the voice replied.
“For now, go on...”

Alaric felt a blast of air passing him. The wind carried the odor of spices and earth and water and life itself. Briefly, he thought it moved with the translucent shape of a dragon for he sensed the great expanse of wings and felt warm breath caressing his face. Then it vanished, leaving not a leaf stirring in its wake. He glanced over at Talena. She was covering her arms over her face.

“It’s gone, I think,” he said.

She lowered her arms and looked around. “Are you sure?”

“I’m not sure of anything,” he said. “Except that we can’t go back. The trees won’t let us.”

Her eyes narrowed and she sighed. Snagging Kessa’s reins, Talena turned the mare eastward and rode on into the ruins. Alaric urged Vagner to follow.

Ronan, please tell me, what was that?
he begged in his thoughts.

But Ronan said nothing, and Alaric was starting to wonder if the bard was there at all.

Vagner listened to Alaric’s calls to
Ronan, and the demon wanted to tell Alaric that Ronan was there. But Ronan was whispering to the demon from within Vagner’s own mind, using his True Name to keep him from saying anything about it. At times, it felt as though Ronan was weaving a wall inside Vagner’s mind.
But that is not possible,
the demon thought.
Not without consent.
Then again, considering that Ronan knew Vagner’s True Name.

Why are you frightening Alaric this way?
Vagner wondered.
Why won’t you answer him?

“I am not frightening him, demon, I am gathering my strength,”
Ronan replied.
“And he wastes my time with his questions, just as you do.”

For what purpose would you be gathering your strength?
Vagner asked.

No reply.

Oh, very well, keep your secrets then,
Vagner thought. Though the demon had an inkling that he knew them already. Had Ronan not told him something before?

What was it he could not remember?

There seemed to be a number of gaps in the demon’s memory these days. And he was sleeping. Really sleeping. Demons were not supposed to need sleep. Vagner had pretended to sleep more than once just to keep Alaric from worrying over him.

And then there was the desire to eat. It surprised him when Ronan told Alaric to let Vagner go feed. Yet, Vagner could not recall what he had eaten...or if he had eaten at all. He was always hungry, so that didn’t count. But was he feeding?

He could not remember.

I don’t like this
, Vagner thought.

Ronan heaved a sigh...or so it seemed. Alaric might have actually been the one who sighed.

“Do you not want your freedom?”
Ronan asked.

More than anything,
Vagner admitted.

“Then let me do what I must so we both will be free,”
Ronan said.
“For once I have what I want, you shall have your freedom.”

And what do you want?

“My freedom as well,”
Ronan said.

But...doesn’t your freedom mean that you will cease to be?

Warmth flooded the demon, a sense that his question had invoked the bard spirit’s wrath.
“No, I will not cease to be, demon, but you will if you do not cease this foolish prattle and let me get on with my affairs.”