“Because you are an influence upon the future of Eletians.”
“What? That’s impossible.” Karigan looked to Grae and Telagioth for confirmation, but they offered none. Grave and silent, they stood at the edge of the clearing, like statues carved of starlight and mist.
“Allow me to continue the tale,” the prince said, “so you may understand. Beyond the D’Yer Wall remains a vast reservoir of wild magic.”
Yes. Karigan thought back. That is what Shawdell was after when he breached the wall.
“Wild magic is the base essence of all magic. It is that from which all other magics arise. Why this reservoir of magic should remain in Kanmorhan Vane, the Blackveil Forest, while magic has not recovered otherwise, is little understood. Perhaps the wall has contained and thus preserved that magic, while after the Long War, magic died off on this side of the wall. Perhaps a remnant of Argenthyne preserves it.”
“Argenthyne,” Karigan murmured. “It truly existed?”
“You who have been touched by the favor of Laurelyn doubt it?” The prince raised his eyebrows, surprised. “Argenthyne was our people’s greatest enclave, and Laurelyn its queen and guardian.”
As he spoke, a city of slender spires amid a forest grew from the water in the bowl. Karigan leaned forward marveling at the city, at fountains glistening in gardens and an eagle riding the winds above. An almost-transparent palace, made of the substance of light, soared above the rest of the city, and she knew with certainty that this would have been Laurelyn’s moonbeam castle of legend. A cluster of stars and a silver moon hung above it all, leaving the spires aglow in the night. It was a place of living beauty.
Movement caught her peripheral vision, and when she looked up, she gasped. Like an echo of the images in the water, the mist around the clearing uncoiled and undulated, creating phantom figures and buildings, and even a courtyard fountain. The images were without definition or sharp edges, and wavered and billowed as natural breezes carried the mist away. She heard distant chiming voices and she had the sense of being within the courtyard, of being caught in another place and time, or maybe in a dream.
“Argenthyne,” Prince Jametari whispered, shaking his head. “Lost Argenthyne. Mornhavon and his legions took it, a blow from which we shall never recover.”
The eagle above the water wheeled away and dissipated into the night. The bright city muted and tarnished. Vegetation choked the fountains, which became foul and sludgy. Thorny vines grew over and entangled the gardens, and spires crumbled and toppled. Laurelyn’s castle faded from sight.
The mist around them turned leaden, and the fair figures and images melted away, replaced by crooked branches that rattled like old knucklebones. Karigan shrank away as they loomed above her as blackened skeleton hands, ready to grasp her. At the last moment, they lost form and drifted away.
The vision of the city floating above the Mirror of the Moon vanished completely, leaving only the placid bowl of water.
At the loss of such beauty, a tear ran down Karigan’s cheek and hung from the end of her chin. The prince reached over and caught it in his palm before it could sully the Mirror of the Moon. The teardrop looked like a pearl in his hand.
“A great sorrow the loss of Argenthyne has been to us,” he said. “One among many. There is hope, however, that there is some goodness left there, even in the heart of Kanmorhan Vane. Maybe some of that goodness leavens the dark that taints the wild magic now leaking through the wall.”
“The wild magic is leaking through the wall . . .”
“Yes. You are aware of unusual events happening in the lands?”
She nodded.
“It is wild magic. I believe the awakening of dark powers on the other side of the wall has stirred the wild magic. You cannot expect an influx of pent-up magic not to have an effect in a world that has found its balance over a thousand years with very little.”
It explained much, about what was happening to the abilities of the Riders, and everything else.
“War has ravaged us,” the prince said, “and the loss of magic may finish us. And then there is you, Galadheon.”
He reached over and touched the scar on her shoulder where Grae had slashed her sleeve. She jerked away, startled by the sudden contact, startled by the energy, the power, that coursed through her. Something recoiled inside her.
“Do you know what this scar resulted from?” he asked.
“I was attacked by—” She swallowed. “I was attacked by your son. With wild magic.”
Prince Jametari nodded. “Tainted wild magic, which now resides within you.”
“How do you know?” Karigan demanded. “I’m no different than I ever was. It didn’t stay in me.”
Prince Jametari tilted his head and it was plain he believed otherwise. “How is it, then, that you have surpassed the layers of the world to visit the past?” He searched her with his gaze, seeking the very depths of her soul. “You are one who journeys far, following roads that are impassable to all but a few.”
“I don’t know how it happens. The wild magic—not in me, but . . .” She felt feverish, wanting to disbelieve she’d been carrying tainted magic within herself for all this time. It made her feel unclean, like a poisonous serpent was hiding within her.
The prince watched her struggle with the concept before continuing. “The wild magic augments the slight ability you embody, in a way your brooch never could by itself. Alone, your brooch helps you to fade to the gray barriers of this world. Augmented by wild magic, it allows you to transcend the gray barriers into other layers.”
Karigan clenched her hands. “I don’t want this! I—” She looked about helplessly, knowing the prince must speak the truth, but not wanting to believe it. He gazed back at her unsympathetically. “How do I get rid of it? Can you help me?”
“It cannot be done.”
Karigan’s heart plummeted. The wild magic had mostly lain dormant, hadn’t it? Was it only now becoming apparent because of the stirring on the other side of the wall? Had the same impulse that affected the other Riders awakened the wild magic within her?
“There is still more to be spoken of,” the prince said, “and time grows short.” He paused to see if she was ready, and then proceeded. “My people wonder what would happen should the D’Yer Wall fail completely, releasing all that power. Some hold it would bring ruin to all that lives; that the darkness of Kanmorhan Vane will rule this side of the world as well. Already it has aroused those who should never walk beneath the moon.”
“The wraith—Varadgrim.” Karigan shuddered with memory.
“Yes. And others. It is believed by those who envision this outcome that the Eletian people have not the strength to withstand an onslaught of tainted wild magic, and shall perish.
“There are others who hold that the wall’s failure shall bring magic back into the world and restore the greatness of the Eletian people. They do not believe all the magic is tainted, and if the wall fails, the onrush of magic will cleanse Everanen, as a flood will cleanse a river valley and make it rich again. The Eletians will once again dominate a world now in the hands of mortalkind.”
Karigan shifted her position, not at all liking the direction this was going. “You mean they hope an influx of wild magic will cleanse the lands of mortals.”
The prince nodded. “They are of the mindset of my son. If a few mortals perish in the path of this flood, all the better.”
His words chilled Karigan, and she wondered of which mindset he was: afraid the fall of the D’Yer Wall would mean destruction of all that was good, or hopeful it would bring about the restoration of the Eletian people.
“Bitterly this has been debated in the Alluvium,” Prince Jametari said. “I fear that even the Eletian people can find no harmony on so important an issue. Our people fought hard to defeat Mornhavon the Black and his hordes, but there are those who are blinded by the needs of the present and future, who will not see the past. I am of a mind that both arguments are flawed, but only t
he future knows the truth. A future, Galadheon, in which you shall play a role.”
Karigan definitely did not like the turn in conversation.
“Like my father, King Santanara, I’ve the gift of prescience. This is not the first I’ve seen of you.”
The sense of being caught in a dreamer’s web threatened to overwhelm her.
“I have seen you interfere in the mending of the D’Yer Wall. Your actions may result in disaster across the lands, or hold off destruction for a time.”
“N-no! You can’t put this on me.”
“I do not.” The prince’s voice was stern. “But the tainted wild magic has created a duality within you. I see the strands of life and time that weave fate, Galadheon, and you waver between the light and the dark.”
Karigan jumped to her feet in a surge of anger. “How can you dare suggest I’d do ill?” She shook with emotion. “How dare you. I would never knowingly do anything to endanger the lands. Never!”
Grae and Telagioth were suddenly beside her. The tiendan moved in closer. Light glanced off arrowheads, and it only incensed her more. When she stepped toward the prince to make another point, Grae and Telagioth grabbed her arms. She struggled wildly, spitting out words that would make even a cargo master blanch.
And then she was sitting calmly on the ground, and all was as it had been before.
What happened? Silver dust sparkled in the air around her. She shook her head to clear it. They may have controlled her outburst, but the fury still burned inside her.
“Would you hear more?” Prince Jarnetari asked.
Karigan narrowed her eyebrows but refused to answer.
“Very well. I have shared my vision in the Alluvium, and you should know it has placed you in some peril. There are those who feel your death would settle any question of how you might interfere with the mending of the wall.”
Karigan’s eyes darted to the fringes of the clearing searching for an arrow aimed at her heart, or a dagger glinting in the light of the moonstones, but the tiendan had withdrawn into the mist and she saw no weapons. Doubtless she was safe in the clearing with Prince Jametari, but when she left?
“There are others,” the prince said, “who feel you have the potential to do much good, for you are touched with Laurelyn’s favor.
“I cannot divine the future in absolutes. Visions do not work that way, nor does the future, which is always in motion, always affected by the influences of the moment.”
“I don’t want this,” Karigan said, desperation creeping into her voice. “I don’t want this wild magic. I don’t want anything to do with Eletians. I never even wanted to be a Green Rider.”
“So it is for those caught up in great events against their wills. It would not be the first time. For all this news, I have no remedy, just an offer—an offer for you to look in the Mirror of the Moon.”
“Why?”
Prince Jametari blinked slowly, his long hands settling onto his thighs. “You would refuse a rare gift?”
“What would I see?”
“Perhaps the threads I have seen, or nothing. Perhaps you shall see loved ones, or yourself. I do not know. You have shown yourself wise in some of your words, and it is for you to determine whether or not to accept a gift freely given.”
Karigan sighed wearily, both afraid and intrigued. If the mirror could show her something that might enlighten her to her own situation, it could prove helpful. But if the future was as fluid as the prince claimed, could she trust anything she saw in it?
After a few hesitant moments, she said, “All right, I’ll try.”
“You need but gaze in.”
Karigan leaned over the bowl and looked into the silver water, and blinked back at herself. Enough time passed by in which nothing happened, that she nearly decided to pull away and give up, but then darkness spread in the bowl like a cloud of black ink. A man rippled into existence, staring back at her, a backdrop of night behind him. His hair was sandy, and he wore a pointed beard. They locked gazes.
She inhaled sharply in recognition. Hadriax el Fex! He looked far healthier, far stronger and unmarred, than when she had seen him on Watch Hill.
The prince hastily passed his hand above the bowl, dissolving the image. The water resumed its placid silver glow, a dash of stars sparkling over it.
“It is not good to call upon such images,” he said. “Sometimes the mirror goes both ways. You may look again now.”
She did, and immediately images came to life in the water. Her father sat at his office desk, writing in a ledger. He looked tired, but well. Quickly it flashed by, followed by another. Alton slept beside a wall—most certainly the D’Yer Wall. She was aware of the mist changing and taking on shapes along the clearing’s edge, but she dared not take her eyes from the mirror, for Alton looked terribly ill. Circles had darkened beneath his eyes, and he perspired profusely, murmuring restlessly in his sleep. His cheeks were gaunt and pallid, and she was overcome by a sharp pang of concern.
The scene changed abruptly to a castle corridor where King Zachary walked with Old Brexley trailing behind. Lady Estora strolled beside him, conversing. She could almost hear their words, and the tolling of a bell . . . Then she saw Captain Mapstone standing in the night, the light of a fire dancing against her face.
A new scene unfolded, a scene of snow swirling against the night, and she sensed the mist around her mimicking it, setting the clearing in the middle of a maelstrom like a fine lady’s snowglobe violently shaken. The storm’s wind roared through tossing branches and flying snow—she thought she could feel the bite of it against her face. A figure trudged through the snow, hunched over as though badly wounded, on the brink of death.
The wind blew hair away from the figure’s face revealing her identity. Karigan looked upon herself. She opened her mouth, but no words would form.
The figure in the vision glanced over her shoulder, and then pushed on with renewed determination as if she were being hunted.
Then the vision faded and the water turned to silver again. Karigan glanced up at the prince. What did the scene portend? How was she wounded? Would she die of it? When would this happen?
But the prince told her no secrets. Instead, he said, “It is not done. Look again into the mirror.”
She did, but once again found only her reflection.
“No, look truly.”
She drew closer, seeing herself peering back. Brown hair framed her face. Her features, an echo of her mother’s, sagged a little in exhaustion. Otherwise, she looked much the same as she always had. The water simply reflected a Green Rider, the daughter of a merchant.
But as she gazed ever more deeply, she saw someone unable to admit how afraid and overwhelmed she was by the events flowing about her. She saw a young person caught up in grand things, shouldering weighty responsibilities. Perhaps too weighty.
Bright eyes reflected and counter-reflected. Those eyes had seen violence, and much that was strange and hurtful. With a heaviness of spirit, she realized a simple life as a merchant was truly lost to her.
She saw also her thin veneer of confidence that masked fear and fragility. There was so much on her small shoulders . . . Helping the Riders while leaderless, enduring supernatural visits by the First Rider, and travels to the past. And now there was all that the Eletian prince had told her. How could she carry such a burden? She had not the strength.
A current of self-doubt shook her. Her fears went deep, clutching at her heart. She feared losing her father, her one remaining parent and the foundation of her character. If anything happened to him, she would be alone in the world.
Alone . . .
She feared meeting terrors in the night, cloaked in shadows, that spoke her name. She feared for Alton, having seen his condition, and for all the Riders. She feared losing any one of them.
And she feared love. Love that would pass, unfulfilled.
Finally, she feared changes wrought across her homeland should the darkness of Blackveil persevere.
The mirror had peeled away all her self-perceptions, laid them raw and bare. She did not see the portrait of a confident and duty-bound Green Rider, but someone she did not like to acknowledge, someone with much to fear.
It was all there in the mirror, cradled in a fragile bowl, the essence of what drove Karigan G’ladheon, a young, frightened woman caught up in events greater than herself.
She passed her hand over her eyes. Only a patchwork of threads held her together.
“Galadheon,” Prince Jametari said in a prophetic voice, “You shall hear Westrion’s wings brush the air. To live, you must first die.”
Birds chattered away and whistled in the branches above Karigan’s head. The morning sun glistened on dew-laden leaves. She found herself sitting cross-legged next to a long-cold campfire, her hands on her knees. Had she been dreaming sitting up? Dreaming of a fanciful visit with Eletians?
The strange membranous leaf cloak, dappled with gems of dew, remained draped over her shoulders.
Not a dream, then.
She shook her head and cobwebs fell from her mind. Condor watched her from the fringe of the woods, grass sticking out the corners of his mouth.
Karigan stood and stretched, the membranous cloak dissipating like a mist from her shoulders. Just another oddity to add to her growing list.
“So, where’ve you been all this time?” she asked her horse.
He dropped his nose back to the grass to graze.
Eletians may have their mysteries, she thought, but at least some things never changed.
ILL NEWS
Karigan rode Condor at a slow jog, he tossing his head and anxious for a run, but she was too preoccupied by all that had happened. She judged she had been away for two nights, but caught in the web of the Eletians, it could have been twenty. No matter how many nights it had been, Mara would be worried, and with good reason, for Karigan’s ordinary message errand had turned out to be anything but.
First Rider's Call Page 38
