Dallandra lay down on her bed, crossed her arms over her chest, and steadied her breathing. She closed her eyes, then transferred up to the etheric and her body of light, which she built in the elven manner as a tall silver flame, burning round the soul within, though still joined to her entranced body below with a silver cord. In this form, she could float through the ceiling of her chamber and travel out onto the etheric plane. She drifted onto the roof and realized that the golden dome had vanished, that the seals were shattered and gone.
Borne on a wave of fear, Dallandra rose up above the dun. All round her the battle raged in a towering fire of red auras and the misty clouds of life-force drifting from spilled blood. Overhead, she could just distinguish Alshandra as a small figure hovering next to an ordinary-looking body of light, a stylized human female molded of the blue light. Together they were drifting toward the dun. Setting the seals would do no more than delay them for a moment. In something like panic, Dallandra rose up high above the city. She’d never been trained to fight upon the etheric, could do no more than defend herself from attack, and she doubted whether her shields would hold against the Guardian’s power. Wildfolk rushed to flock round her in a glowing flux of crystalline forms, darting this way and that, expanding as they tried to protect her, contracting again in fear.
At that moment, Rhodry and the dragon burst through into the etheric plane, wrapped in Alshandra’s dweomer mist that allowed them to travel it physically. With a howl of triumph, the Guardian swept down, growing huge as she settled into position over the dun. Against Alshandra, Dallandra was powerless, but the human mazrak was another matter. She hovered nearby, her semblances of arms raised high above her head, ready to call down power from the astral and feed her make-believe goddess. With the Wildfolk rushing after, Dallandra charged her.
“You! Hold and stand in the name of the Light!”
The woman shrieked and fled. Dallandra followed, gained on her, sent the Wildfolk ahead to slow her down. They swarmed round her body of light like bees round a flower, darting this way and that, blinding her. Swearing and cursing, the woman batted at them with her incorporeal hands. Never once did she draw a sigil or a pentagram; never once did she chant a banishing. Dallandra could guess that she quite simply didn’t know the proper symbols and lore.
“Stand in the name of the Light!”
With one last cry, the woman twirled round and dropped, sliding down her silver cord, absorbing it as she fled, until suddenly she disappeared. She’d returned to her body and escaped.
Dallandra spun round and rushed back to the dun, but by the time she reached it, there was no sign of Rhodry, the dragon, or Alshandra. For some minutes, she hovered on the etheric, looking round, keeping a watch. The fighting had ended some time before. Out on the battle plain a mist, pale gold to the etheric sight, drifted in long tendrils and streamers; many men had died or lay wounded and bleeding. She could see two lines of silvery-blue mist as well, the water veils that hung over the streams near the dun. They, too, were exhalations of force, but unlike the ghastly mists of blood-energy, these were pure and natural, mere elemental water on its own plane. Not, of course, that the water veils weren’t dangerous to dweomerworkers—their raw force could tear a body of light or etheric double to shreds.
Glancing down, Dallandra realized that Jill was standing on the roof, renewing the seals. Dallandra returned to her own body, following the silver cord until she hovered in her familiar chamber and over the body lying corpse-still on the bed. She slipped back in, heard a rushy sort of click, and opened her eyes. Sunset light filled the room and glowed golden. She let out her breath in a long sigh and sat up, exhausted, her hands trembling as she pushed her hair back from her sweaty face.
When she rose, she nearly fell. She sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the sunlight falling in long shafts through the room while she gathered strength. All at once, she knew that Evandar had entered her chamber by the touch of his mind upon hers. She got to her feet just as he materialized, standing in the curve of her chamber’s wall.
“Oh, thank every god!”
She rushed to him and threw herself into his arms, while he laughed and ran his fingers through her tangled hair. Although he felt solid, still he seemed cool against her and less than tangible, as he always did in the material world. When he kissed her, though, his mouth felt warm and real.
“I’ve missed you so much,” she stammered. “Just so much.”
“I know, my love, I know. I would have come to you sooner, but, ye gods, with all the iron outside the walls and a fair bit within, I can’t bear it for long.”
“Ah.” For a moment she nearly wept. “I thought you’d deserted me.”
“Never! Never, my love, never that. Did you truly think I would?”
“Well, I tried to call to you, but I never felt I’d reached you. I forgot about the iron.”
“I never can forget how the pain burns.”
“How can you come at all, then? The town and dun must stink of the stuff.”
“They do. For a while I can put the pain aside, but only for a while before it wears me down.”
“By sheer will, you mean? Not some dweomer spell?”
“By will alone and by love for you.” He kissed her again. “I can’t stay with you long, but I had to see how you fared.”
“Well, none of us fare well, truly.” She managed a wry grin. “But with the relieving army here, I’ve got hope again.”
“As well you should. If I could stay and fight alongside them, I would, but I can’t. All my will would have to go into fighting the iron instead, and I’d have no more dweomer than some stinking servant. I learned that at Rinbaladelan, you see. In the midst of the last battle, with iron all round me, I couldn’t do much more than draw a bow like an ordinary archer.”
“I understand, and truly, I don’t suppose that one more archer would mean anything. The real war’s with Alshandra. She’s the key to everything. Can’t you make her stop this?” Dallandra felt her voice shake. “Can’t you imprison her?”
“I’ve been trying, up in my own country, searching and hunting, but always she flees from me. If I can’t catch her, there’s naught I can do. She’s a fair bit stronger than I thought, alas.”
Dallandra reached up and laid her hands on either side of his face.
“Will you be safe? Oh, ye gods, if I lost you—”
Evandar smiled, caught her wrists gently, and kissed her hands.
“I’m still the stronger,” he said. “That’s why she won’t face me. Ah, Alshandra! Must I declare myself helpless to Catch you? Must I? I think so. My country is her country, my love, and there we both reign. Not just me, but both of us.”
“But if you can’t stop her, who can?”
“Who, indeed? I do not like this sensation I feel. I wish to stop her; I cannot. Is it anger I feel? This hasn’t ever happened before, my love. It’s not like when Rinbaladelan fell.” He paused, thinking something through. “Then I was overwhelmed. This is seeing a thing, reaching out for it, and finding it beyond your reach.”
“It’s called frustration.”
“Ah. Well, I don’t like it, not one whit.”
He gave her a last kiss, then stepped back and disappeared. For a long time, Dallandra stood in the middle of her chamber, saw nothing, heard nothing but the sound of her heart, knocking against her ribs, it seemed, pounding out “ruin, ruin, ruin” over and over.
After she set the sigils over the astral dome, Jill returned to her chamber. Soon the gwerbret would insist on her presence at his council of war; she was debating whether she had time to look for Dallandra before it started when someone opened the door, and Dalla stepped in, standing with one hand on the open door, the other on the jamb as if she would have fallen without the support. Jill’s first thought was that her friend had been stricken ill or even stabbed.
“Dalla!” Jill got up, nearly knocking the chair over. “What is it?”
“Ill news, ill news, the worst
news in the world. There’s naught Evandar can do about Alshandra. He’s tried and failed.”
Jill grabbed her by one arm and led her into the room.
“By the hells, Dalla, sit down! You look ready to faint.”
“Maybe so. Don’t you see what this means? She’s clever enough to keep away from Evandar, up on the inner planes, and so we can’t defeat her either here or there.”
Spent and pale, Dallandra sank into the offered chair, then merely stared at the floor, her hands clasped between her legs.
“Dalla, Dalla—I understand matters of war, better than I want to, truly. Don’t be so afraid! The relievers will win through on the morrow, Alshandra or no.”
“I know that. But the real war won’t be over. I mean Alshandra’s war. She’s not going to stop attacking Carra just because her army’s gone. She and that mazrak of hers will follow us. It won’t matter where we go, they’ll follow. And she’ll keep raising armies if she can, too, and more and more men will die. I can’t stand it. Oh, ye gods, what have I done? I never should have meddled with Evandar’s people, never!”
“Hush!” Jill got up and laid a firm hand on her shoulder. “It’s not your blame, but hers. What were you to do? Abandon an entire race to extinction? If Alshandra weren’t raving mad, everything would have been for the best. You’ve done naught but what’s honorable and right, and you’ve done it the best you could.”
Dallandra said nothing for a long time; then at last she looked up.
“My thanks, and truly, I know in my heart that I had to do it. But my war still won’t be over on the morrow. She’ll still hound us, forever if she has to. And she’ll raise more armies, too, and keep ravaging the countryside.”
Jill started to mouth some reassuring platitude or lie, then stopped. All at once, in her mind, the omens came together and wove their perfect knot. At that moment, she saw what must be done, and that she was the only person in Deverry who could do it.
“Jill!” Dallandra snapped. “What’s wrong? You look like death.”
“Do I? It’s just from realizing the truth in what you’re saying. She won’t give up, will she? As long as she’s strong enough to keep fighting, she’ll wreak endless harm.”
“Exactly. And I don’t know what to do to stop her.”
“But I do. We’ll have to plan it out just so.”
Since Labanna insisted that the princess sleep in the women’s hall rather than her own chamber, the only place in the dun where Carra could be private at night was in her bed. By drawing the hangings all round and pretending to sleep, she could sit up cross-legged with her back against the headboard and think in the stuffy dark. That evening, worn out by watching the battle rage, she retired particularly early and shut herself up.
The battle, however, followed her. She heard voices out in the sleeping quarters and saw a light bloom through the crack in the hangings, which suddenly parted to reveal Dallandra, carrying a punched tin candle lantern. Even in that dappled light, Carra could see how grim the dweomermaster’s eyes were, how tight and set her mouth.
“Your Highness, I’ve got a very important thing to ask you. If you truly don’t want to do this, say me nay, and there’ll be no shame in it, because it’s a very dangerous thing. Do you understand?”
“I do.” Carra felt her heart start knocking against her ribs. “But what—”
“Jill has a plan to trap Alshandra and put an end to her scheming. But we need bait. If you draw her attention, then perhaps we can lure her out where Jill can work on her. I want you to come up to the rooftop with me and stand out where Alshandra can see you. I’ll be right there, because Alshandra hates me, too, and Jill will be—well, she’ll be nearby, though you won’t be able to see her.”
Carra’s mouth seemed to have turned to wood, all dry and unmoving. Finally, she forced her tongue and lips to form words.
“Very well. Of course. Let me get a shawl and my clogs.”
“Splendid! And take along those bits of iron Jill gave you as well.”
They hurried up the staircase to the last landing. Among the sacks of stones and arrows, Jill lay on her back, hands crossed over her chest, so still, so pale, that Carra at first thought her dead. Near her head knelt Jahdo, terrified in the candlelight.
“She’s just in a trance,” Dallandra whispered. “Don’t worry.”
Climbing up the ladder to the roof was difficult, but with Dallandra up above to help, Carra managed to scrabble out. For a moment, she stood in the cool night air and looked up at the stars, spread so close and bright above the town and dun. She’d been a virtual prisoner for so long that her fear vanished for a brief moment in this wider view. Dallandra dragged over a wooden stool and had her sit.
“Jahdo brought this up for you.” The dweomermaster set the lantern down nearby. “Now, you sit here in the light, and we’ll see what happens.”
The fear returned like the smack of a heavy hand across her face. She nodded, crossing her arms over her stomach as if her all-too-human flesh could protect the unborn child within.
Up on the etheric, Jill hovered over the dun, riding the billows of the blue light in her simple etheric double as she looked down at Carra and Dalla below, the one’s aura a timid pale ovoid, the other’s a golden flame, both gleaming like gems in the pool of light from the candle flame. Wildfolk swarmed round the pair, as well, all bright shapes and flickering there on their home plane of existence. That night, they seemed far larger than normal, all puffed up and sharp with anger that someone should try to harm their Dallandra and young Carra as well.
Round Carra’s neck gleamed a faint line of purplish light from the Gel da’Thae talismans Jahdo had given her, another protection, as were the lumps of iron set under her chair and tucked into her kirtle. If all went well, they would serve. If Jill failed, nothing on earth would protect the princess.
Jill widened her sight and looked out over the Horse-kin camp, a seething mass of blood-red auras, shot here and there with black to mark the sinking vitality of some dying man. The relieving army looked much the same, an outer ring of boiling red to mark their rage and battle lust. Somewhere out there was Rhodry, and she felt a pang of real regret that she’d never see him again, even if he lived through his battle. She regretted, too, lying to Dallandra about this night’s work, but there had, after all, been no time to argue. She thrust such sentimental thoughts aside and began to rise, circling like the falcon even though she wore a simple human form. She glided through the golden dome of her seals, rose even higher, until she hovered so far above that the glowing dome shone as small as a dropped coin.
At her height, the energy of the starry sky blazed in a silver web of light; her tiny form would be lost against its background, or so she could hope. For some moments she waited, calling on the Light that shines behind all the gods, the Light that she had served all her long life. In the silent way of the Light, she felt that she was less than alone though not accompanied. It was enough. She drew upon the strength of the Light and first imagined, then shaped out of the etheric substance, three spears of silver blue.
Down below her, a mist began to form. Only a white vortex at first, it grew into a woman’s shape, huge, floating in the air to one side of the dun towers, then suddenly solidified—so dense and detailed that Jill knew Alshandra must be visible to those on the material plane. Very distantly, she heard a sound like a wind in trees and could guess that it came from the armies, one cheering, the other screaming defiance. Slowly, the Guardian drifted earthward in a tight spiral with Carra at its center.
Jill held her position until Alshandra pounced, sweeping down toward the tiny dome below. Jill plunged after, keeping a good distance between them, but the tormented spirit never looked up. Straight as a stone she dropped, clubbing a fist into the seals at the zenith. The dome shook once, then vanished in a spray of gold light.
Jill dropped, stooping like the falcon straight down after. She could see Dallandra on her feet and using both arms to draw wards, which
Alshandra flicked away as fast as the dweomermaster could make them.
“Alshandra!” Jill sent a wave of thought to the Guardian. “You fool! We’ve trapped you.”
She hurled the first spear straight and true. Alshandra shrieked aloud and flung herself skyward as the shaft ripped through her astral body. Yet even as the spear dissipated and vanished, the wound healed over. Here on the etheric plane, Alshandra’s dweomer would always be the stronger. Jill dodged back, heading east and away from the dun. The Horsekin had to see their goddess, had to see what was about to happen.
“Follow me if you dare!”
She hurled the second spear, which burned into the Guardian’s legs. Screaming in rage, Alshandra darted after Jill. Swinging, swooping, first high, then gliding low over the Horsekin camp, Jill led her on, threatened her with the spear, and worst weapon of all, mocked her. Alshandra followed, chasing her to the south.
“You have no soul, you clumsy spirit! You can’t catch me. You can’t guess what we’re going to do. You can’t do anything but rage and spit, can you?”
Snarling, Alshandra flung herself forward, huge hands grasping at the spear. Jill dodged up high, then risked a quick glance round. Not far behind her rose the silver water veil, a mist of elemental force, from the stream that ran south through the portcullis in Cengarn’s walls. It was a puny thing from a shallow trickle of water, but farther south it joined up with the stream that ran west of Cengarn. Together they formed a proper river.
Days of Air and Darkness Page 36
