Wielder: Adept: Book 2 of Lady Shey's Story (The Wielder Cycle)

by Mark E. Tyson

  Enowene stiffened and flashed her eyes at Shey. Ianthill shook his head. “Oh, well, I will try to help all I can.”

  “Good, I knew I could count on you.”

  “Ianthill, I have some other business I need to talk to you about in private, if my guests will excuse us for a moment.”

  After no one seemed to mind, Enowene led Ianthill to her private study. As soon as she got the doors shut and magically sealed, she turned to Ianthill. “Are they still after her? What is really going on? What did you tell Shey?”

  “One question at a time, Enowene,” Ianthill said. She just stared at him impatiently.

  “There is a new danger.” He explained the situation to her.

  “I thought you and the mighty First Trine would have found a solution to this by now. She has her memories back.”

  “She doesn’t have them all back. I don’t think she remembers Celestine, or Arbella, for that matter. She doesn’t seem to remember much about her life prior to being on the streets here. Maybe a little, but she doesn’t speak of it anyway.”

  “She knows her mother and who she is.”

  “Well . . . she doesn’t remember all of that either. She knows who her mother and father are, but she believes Veric is missing. She doesn’t know he is in Ishrak. She doesn’t know he is working for us yet. She thinks Sylvalora goes out looking for him when she is out looking for Arbella.”

  “Ianthill, I had no idea the last time you talked to me about this that you and Morgoran were being so careless with her! What if Toborne had realized what she could do?”

  “He is too obsessed with the Silver Drake to realize he could actually accomplish his goals by using her daughter instead. Morgoran actually put a block on Shey’s enchanting abilities so they would not develop too fast.”

  “He what!”

  “Relax. If they developed too fast, they would be almost impossible for her to control. She isn’t actually a dragon. She doesn’t have the same natural defenses to their magic as they do.”

  “I know she’s not a dragon! She is stronger than you two think, though. I should have gone with her when you took her to the Vale! She’s going to end up resenting you and Morgoran both.”

  “Listen, can you find Arbella or not?”

  “If the Silver Drake can’t find her, how do you expect me to?”

  Ianthill sighed. “I don’t have time to play this game anymore. I know you know where she is, Enowene. I knew it the last time we spoke of this. What’s wrong with her that you need to protect her? Where is she? What has happened to her?”

  “Far from here, I’m afraid.”

  “What’s become of her? Is she able to help? Because if she is, you are just as guilty of keeping Shey in her present state as we are.”

  “She’s old, Ianthill. Something snapped in her after Sheyna. She isn’t all there anymore. I don’t think she can help Sheyna now. I don’t think she remembers any of it herself.”

  “There are ways. Can I trust you to see to it?”

  Enowene nodded. “I will tell Gondrial and Marella where she is. Marella might be able to get through to her, being a mindwielder. But I won’t go myself, Ianthill. I can’t bear it.”

  Ianthill put his hand on Enowene’s shoulder. “I know it must be difficult. You don’t have to go. Gondrial and Marella can handle this on their own just fine. They are full adepts now, after all.” He stood up. “Now, I need to get some of that bittering tea and breakfast in me. I’m starved.”

  “Ianthill, make sure that if Marella can restore Arbella’s mind long enough to help Sheyna, you fix it all. This ends now. Sheyna is an adept, and she is strong enough. She deserves to know what she can do and who she is. Promise me!”

  “It’s not that simple. Remember, Sylvalora has the final say, and she hasn’t wanted Shey to know any more than I have.”

  “I don’t care. I was just as much her mother, and I say she needs to know it all.”

  Ianthill nodded. “Forgive me for saying so, but you were the one who left her out on the streets. I’m not sure if I count you among those who are allowed to express such an opinion.”

  If Enowene was emotional from Ianthill’s statement, she wasn’t about to let him see it. “I did what I thought was necessary to keep her safe from the very forces you are trying to keep her safe from today. She survived because of me.”

  “And she still survives because of me,” Ianthill retorted.

  “What are you going to tell Shey?”

  “The truth. In fact, come on. We will both tell her right now.”

  “Ianthill, wait.” Enowene bowed her head. “Arbella is here, in the tower. I brought her here last season when she started mistaking visitors for cats . . . and actually started turning them into cats. By the time I figured out what she had done, she had ten of them mewing around her cottage.”

  Ianthill tried to look grim but couldn’t help but to burst out in laughter. “I hope you turned them all back.”

  “It’s not a laughing matter. Those people were traumatized.” She spoke in between bouts of laughter.

  Ianthill was in tears. “I should be angry at you right now.” He bent down, trying to catch his breath, but convulsed in laughter instead.

  After eating breakfast, Ianthill sent Gondrial, Sanmir, and Ramzi to explore the city while he and Enowene talked to Shey in private in Enowene’s study. He wanted to talk with her first before bringing in Arbella and Marella. Enowene directed Shey to sit on the divans to the left side of her spacious study. Ianthill was planning on sitting behind Enowene’s desk until she convinced him it would be better for them all to be seated comfortably in order to put Shey at ease. Either one of them sitting behind the desk might send the wrong message, as if Shey was in trouble.

  Shey sat unresponsive while Enowene explained who Arbella was and what had happened. She sat equally unresponsive when Ianthill clarified the reasoning behind suppressing her enchantment abilities. When they had finished, she sat there for a long moment. Ianthill and Enowene stared at her, expecting her to get angry, to tell them what she wanted to do, to say something. After a time, Shey sank back into the divan.

  “I know you are both expecting me to say something, but I’m not sure what. I’ve known about my enchantment abilities for quite some time. I enchanted wooden boards into what you call bane weapons against the unlife just recently. Once Morgoran releases the restriction on my enchantments, I suspect they won’t be so temporary or difficult to get to stick for a period of time. As far as my early childhood is concerned, I’m afraid I do not remember Arbella or Celestine. I am deeply sorry. If I was made to forget something so I would be safe, I haven’t missed it.”

  Ianthill leaned forward in his chair. “There is more to the story. Your mother, Morgoran, and I thought that if you didn’t remember, it might be best. However, Arbella is here and, hopefully with Marella’s help, can fix your mind.”

  “Why? There’s nothing wrong with my mind.”

  “Actually, there is. You might be vulnerable to another mindwielder. You are far too dangerous if they know your true potential and exploit you,” Ianthill said. “You are the only daughter of the Silver Drake.”

  “If I am so dangerous and you fear this break in my mind is vulnerable, then why have you waited so long to fix it?” Shey asked. “Why don’t you just tell me what happened in my childhood and not go tearing through my mind?”

  Ianthill took a deep breath. “Try to keep an open mind. I am not willing to tell you unless Marella can get Arbella sane enough to fix your mind and you remember yourself.”

  Shey smoothed her hair down the back of her head and neck. “All right, bring them in.”

  “Are you certain you want to do this?” Enowene asked.

  “Sure,” Shey said.

  Ianthill sent for Mavis and had Marella come into the room. They filled her in on what was expected.

  A few moments later, Mavis escorted Arbella into the study. The old woman was hunched over and walked with a woo
den cane. She had white and grey hair.

  She looked at Shey. “Do you know where my kitty is?”

  Shey looked to Enowene for what to do. Enowene shook her head.

  “No, I’m sorry, I don’t,” Shey said.

  “He has been such a bad kitty, running away like he does.”

  Marella took the old woman’s hands on Ianthill’s nod. She concentrated and, after a few moments, opened her eyes. “I believe it will work. I can feel her getting stronger.”

  Enowene stood. “If you all will excuse me, I do not wish to be here if she regains her faculties. It’s too much for me.”

  “Of course,” Ianthill said, also standing up.

  Suddenly, Shey was not so sure this was a good idea. She had thought it was no big deal, but with Enowene now excusing herself, Shey was getting nervous. She leaned to Ianthill. “Why is she leaving? Maybe we shouldn’t do this.”

  “If you are changing your mind, you had better decide one way or the other now.”

  Shey was both intrigued and frightened. “I suppose . . .”

  “There you are, kitty!” Arbella said, her eyes becoming wide and her face contorting into a horrible scowl. She appeared monstrous. “Sheyna, you are a bad girl. You ran away before I could catch you.” She reached for Shey’s head, and Shey backed away. Marella fell backward to the floor. The old woman moved with remarkable speed and seized Shey’s head about her temples. “I’ll fix you. Come, let’s go play a game.”

  Shey’s pupils dilated. She could see every corner of the room; there was no darkness. Ianthill moved to help Shey, but Marella caught his arm.

  “A game! What kind of game?” Shey asked. The woman clasped her head harder.

  “You were so good at the forgetting game, it’s time to play the remembering game. Remember now!” She pushed Shey back and let her fall onto the floor.

  Shey cringed as the flood of memories struck her all at once. They were preserved in her mind, so they were as vivid as the day they happened. She was playing in the garden, planting flowers with her grandmother, and she gazed at Arbella, who was smiling back at her.

  She felt overwhelmed. Her sister and her mother had been taken away by strange men. “Arbella told me to run, so I did. There were dragons flying around. They were high enough in the sky that I thought they were birds. I have a brother and a sister!”

  Arbella gave her a hug, and she accepted it. She realized she had great love for the woman. “They were actually your half-brother and half-sister. Your father was married once before.”

  Ianthill was astonished. “Arbella, do you know where you are?”

  “Of course I do. Do you know where you are, old elf?”

  “What else do you remember?” Marella asked Shey.

  “I remember Enowene. She was saying that someone told them where I was but they grabbed the wrong girl.” She sucked in a breath. “Oh no! The boy and girl are Enowene’s grandchildren. My father was married to Enowene’s younger daughter. My father’s first wife was killed!”

  “And what else? Please tell me that’s all you remember,” Arbella said.

  “My mother killed her!” Shey went to her knees, and Arbella embraced her again.

  Arbella consoled her. “It was an accident. Your mother didn’t mean to do it.”

  “How did my father fall in love with my mother when he knew what she did?”

  “He forgave her, because she didn’t do it on purpose. It was the first time Toborne tried to control her,” Ianthill said. “It also helped that the next elvish form she took looked almost just like her.”

  “That had nothing to do with it. He fell in love with her because he could see her for who she was, not for what she did,” Arbella said.

  Shey felt a burning inside; her head felt red hot. She was having trouble seeing.

  “Shey, what’s wrong?” Marella asked. She moved with concern to her friend.

  Shey felt as if her insides were trying to get out. “I don’t know. I can’t see.”

  Ianthill put his hand on her forehead. “She’s on fire. Arbella, something’s wrong. The break?”

  “It’s not the break,” Arbella said. “That’s gone.”

  Shey opened her eyes, but instead of seeing Enowene’s study, she saw a field with people. A young man and woman were running across it from something. Shey realized who they were, and the heat and vision were gone. “My brother and sister are still alive! I saw them!”

  “How is this possible?” Ianthill asked. He thought for a moment. “I mean both the vision and the fact that they may be alive.”

  “She is the daughter of the Silver Drake. She may find she has all manners of new abilities. Breannan, the goddess of prophesy, is with her.”

  “What have we done?” Ianthill lamented. “Shey, you have to be careful with anything you discover you can do now. You have to take control of your will and use your best judgement, or we may have done just the opposite of what we set out to do here today.”

  Shey nodded.

  “Come now, we need to get back to the Vale of Morgoran. The phylactery may have already arrived, and I want to make sure Toborne destroys it as I instructed. I don’t trust him.”

  “Did you send a message to Morgoran too, then? He could have made sure Toborne destroyed the phylactery in your absence.”

  Ianthill glared at her for a moment. “That might have been a good suggestion when you handed it over to me.”

  Chapter 17: Darkness and Doubt

  Ianthill and the others arrived at the Vale of Morgoran via Lora Daine to find Morgoran pacing the floor. “What took you so long?”

  “We stopped over at Enowene’s tower,” Ianthill told him.

  “Did you make any progress in that area?” He glanced over at Shey.

  “Aye, it’s all taken care of. You were right—Enowene did know where Arbella was.”

  “Oh, Shey, don’t wander off just yet,” Morgoran said, catching her before she followed her friends to the parlor to prepare to confront Rikard, if he arrived.

  “I have a few issues I need to discuss with you as soon as—”

  “Later, Ianthill. I need to borrow Shey for a moment,” Morgoran interrupted. Shey joined them.

  “You need me for something, Master?”

  “Aye, come with me. I have a task for you, and we don’t have a moment to spare.”

  Ianthill turned pale. “They are here, aren’t they?”

  “Aye, they are in Toborne’s chambers under the tower,” Morgoran answered.

  “So you are going to do it. You realize you will have to have Shey destroy it as soon as you use it.”

  “Lower your voice, Ianthill. I know what I need to do.” He began to whisper. “You need to trust me.”

  “I will come with you,” Ianthill said.

  “No, I can handle it. Go get the others and meet me at the stairs in a few moments. We will need Marella especially.”

  Ianthill nodded and headed for the parlor.

  “Come on, Shey. You are about to put your dragon magic to good use.”

  Kambor tucked the quarterstaff under his arm. “Naneden, was it?” Why are you here?” He spun the quarterstaff around. “Are you here for this? The quarterstaff of Raethel Dast?”

  “It’s Daethel Rast,” Rikard said. “I’m not entirely certain you understand your situation, Kambor.”

  “Oh, do enlighten me, adept. You are just an adept, are you not, Rikard?”

  Rikard’s face contorted into a hateful grin, and Kambor took a step back. “Technically I am, aye.”

  Kambor regained his composure. “You aren’t planning on rotting out my tongue like you did my friend here, are you?” His smug smile died, and he cleared his throat nervously when Rikard failed to answer him. He brought the staff to the fore. “Let us discuss this interesting vessel of yours. I believe it was supposed to go to Toborne for destruction; at least, that’s what the note from Ianthill said.”

  “It looks like a quarterstaff to me,” Rikard said.<
br />
  Kambor’s nostrils flared. “Do not insult me. This is the last phylactery of Daethel Rast. I have already seen it.” He paused. “Do you know what an Oracle does? I see snippets of the future. I already know what you are, who you are.”

  “You know very little, and a little knowledge is dangerous,” Rikard said.

  “As you no doubt have heard, Toborne has been experimenting with something similar to the phylactery of a Lich. His statuettes can hold essence and sometimes the essence of people, but they lack something, something this phylactery does not.” He twirled the quarterstaff. “The only success he has had is with jade. He cannot use just any object as a vessel for essence. This is made entirely of hardwood and shellac. How do you use it as a vessel for your essence, your power? Don’t skimp on the details. I need to know everything about it.”

  “You are mistaken. I am not a Lich,” Rikard answered.

  “Very well, then.” Kambor took the quarterstaff and tossed it to Toborne. “I will talk to the Lich! Toborne, bring him out of there.”

  “I see that you are not all-seeing or you would never have done that,” Toborne said. Kambor tried to move toward Toborne, but the wielder was already channeling essence through the phylactery. He slammed it hard onto the floor, and the quarterstaff shattered like glass. Rikard fell to the floor and began to convulse. Toborne secured the suppression stone within the palm of his hand and prepared to defend it.

  “You had better take care of the boy,” Kambor said snidely.

  Rikard had recovered and was pulling himself up to sit upright.

  “He’s fine. The Lich has left him and is no more.”

  “Why don’t you save yourself the trouble and hand over that suppression stone?”

  Toborne grinned at Rikard. “You see, this is how you deceive and manipulate. I hope you learned something.” He looked back at Kambor. “Were you so foolish to think I would join with you? I am a wielder! I would never help you get rid of other wielders.”

  “So it seems.” Kambor, in one fluid motion, sent a dragon’s fireball from his palm. It struck Toborne and knocked him against the wall. “I will give you another chance to hand over the stone before I just go ahead and incinerate you.”