The Sorcerer's Daughter

by Terry Brooks

  In that moment, she understood fully why he was so desperate to go back to doing what he had been born to do. How could he not be? She realized how difficult it must have been to give it all up. She saw clearly what he had been missing—both visually and emotionally. Her heart went out to him, and a new and unexpected respect for what he had abandoned blossomed.

  Are you seeing this? Is it clear to you?

  Yes! Oh, Imric! How wonderful!

  A long pause. Right now, at this moment, yes. But there is another side. Be warned anew. Stay objective.

  I don’t know if I can.

  I will help you. I will provide you with a small demonstration of the other side of these powers. Hold on.

  He circled for a few minutes, sweeping across the treetops, looking down into the shadows and brightness, scanning for movement. His bird sight was clear and sharp, so much better than she had imagined sight could ever be. From hundreds of feet in the air she could see leaves on the forest floor. She could see twigs and stands of grasses and tiny holes.

  At the entrance to one of those holes, she saw movement.

  The war shrike’s instincts surged to the forefront as it went into a dive, taking her with it, plummeting through gaps between the limbs, bursting through rays of brightness and bands of dark, a single-minded predator in search of prey. There seemed to be nothing left of Imric at all. She held her breath for the few seconds it took the shrike to reach the tiny rodent, snatch it up, and carry it away, squealing and wriggling helplessly.

  In the tallest treetops, the shrike landed and began to eat the rodent while it was still alive. She felt the claws and beak tearing into it with savage joy. She felt the life go out of it. It died screaming.

  The war shrike had been merciless. Imric had been merciless. They were the same; there was no difference between them once the change was made, his humanity submerged within the creature he had become. He was fully possessed by a war shrike’s instincts and behaviors.

  She understood his warning better now. She had experienced the entire killing and devouring through her senses, and there was a part of her that would never forget it. She could barely keep her sight affixed to his. But she managed, wanting to make certain she understood fully what it meant to make the change. She would not let herself look away.

  Do you understand what it can be like to be tethered to me? His words swam out of the war shrike’s mind, seeming disembodied. Can you taste the blood and flesh in your mouth?

  Somehow, without actually being able to do so, she could. It was a deeply unpleasant bitterness on her tongue, but it was there. She tried to dismiss it, but she could not. Not quite.

  I see what you mean.

  Another pause. Not yet, you don’t. But you will.

  She had no doubt. She did not respond this time but simply stood there and waited for him to fly back to her. It took him almost no time at all. When she decided finally to experiment further, to glance away into the trees, fixing on a specific spruce to break the contact, her own vision quickly returned, supplanting his. Moments later, the war shrike descended through the heavy branches of the forest and landed off to one side of the clearing. It sat there for a moment, very still, its eyes fixed on her. Then, abruptly, it changed back again into Imric, still naked as his body lengthened and re-formed.

  Eyes downcast, he walked over to his clothing and began to dress.

  “It went well for you?” he asked her.

  “Well enough. And you?”

  He frowned. “As well as could be expected. It felt odd at first. And a little scary.” He paused. “But good, too.”

  She tried not to look at him, but curiosity won out. She was desperate to know more, to understand everything. She thought she might see something different in his physique, something in the composition or form of his human body that was unfamiliar and would provide a clue to his shape-shifter nature. But aside from a few scars and one odd birthmark, there was nothing. She looked away as he finished, and if he had seen her examining him he gave no sign of it.

  “So now you have a small experience with how it works,” he said.

  “Not as much as you would like, I’m guessing.”

  “No, but the rest will take time. And some of what you need to know will be better learned through personal experience. That was where I failed Sarnya. That was how I lost her. Whatever happens, I don’t intend to lose you. So remember this. If I start to shape-shift too quickly or too eagerly, if the lure of shifting overpowers me and I lose all control, you have to act at once to stop that from happening. If you feel it coming on me or sense any failure in my self-possession, you have to bring me back to myself right away. You can do this by reaching out to me with your mind and with your heart. A physical rescue isn’t all that’s required. It must be emotional, too. It must be accomplished through an objective and impartial commitment to my well-being. You must not let yourself be caught up in the wildness that will have ensnared me. This is what happened to Sarnya.”

  He took a breath. “We share our feelings when we are tethered, remember. What is needed is for me to feel the intensity and strength of your will to bring me back, and I will respond. But you must be quick, and you must be determined.”

  “Is this even possible?” she asked. “If you are in the grip of your own wildness, out of control and caught up in this addiction to changing, what chance will I have to stop you?”

  “A better chance than you think. I am tethered to you, remember. I am joined to you in a way to makes us a part of each other. We are, to a very great extent, one person. It will be like having my conscience whispering to me, telling me to come back to myself, to regain control. That is sufficient to break through to me. If it comes quickly enough, I will be all right.”

  Again he paused. “If not, you must break the tether. Immediately, if you sense I am not responding. In spite of the fact that you will find yourself reluctant to do so, you must let go. If you fail to do this and if in the throes of my shifting I am unable to release you, I will drag you so deeply into what I have become that you will be consumed. As Sarnya was.”

  She could see how it might have happened. She could visualize the moment when Sarnya realized he was at risk. She could imagine how her determination to save him overcame her good sense and drew her so far in she could not get back.

  “I may be stronger than Sarnya,” she said.

  His face clouded with frustration. “I don’t think you appreciate the danger. If you wait too long to break free, you won’t be able to. Not because you can’t, but because you won’t want to. You will fall into the same trap as me. You will become obsessed by the feelings the shifting generates. You will want more, the same as me. All your promises to yourself and to me will vanish. The shifting is that addictive. You will want more and more, and you will end up like Sarnya did.”

  He made it sound far more ominous than she had believed it to be; the urgency and concern in his voice was evident. The shape-shifting, it appeared, could become a drug you had to have. Or if you were not a shifter yourself, one you had to experience. No matter the risk, no matter your good intentions, you needed it. She tried to imagine what that would feel like, and failed.

  “So Sarnya was destroyed because she was not a shape-shifter. And you survived because you were?”

  He nodded. “She lacked the protections that were mine from birth. I can recover on my own, given time. The danger is in what I do while I am caught up in the addiction. I am not able to help myself. I become the things I change into, and those about me are placed at risk. I can do terrible things and not be able to stop myself. One day, Aphenglow Elessedil told me, I might become lost entirely and descend into madness. I understood this. It was my fear of this possibility that brought me to the Druids. It was what I sensed was consuming me, drawing steadily closer with the increasing recklessness of my behavior. We had to stop it now, she told me, if I was to survive. I agreed. I knew she was right. Thus, the tether.”

  “But it didn�
�t work.”

  “Not with Sarnya. So I took a vow of abstinence—a complete withdrawal to protect against the inevitable. No more shape-shifting. No more tethering. But it was a terrible price to pay. I was dying by inches as a result. I was longing for a return to my former self, to what I was born to be. I might as well have gone blind or stopped eating as given up shifting. I missed it every day. There was no succor to be found, no respite from the terrible emptiness, the deep sense of loss. I had no way to assuage that pain. When you came to me with your plea…”

  He trailed off, gave her a smile. “It didn’t work with Sarnya, but that doesn’t mean it cannot work at all. She was the wrong person for me to tether to. You are a much better match. I have sensed it from the beginning, and every moment we spend together—especially after your reaction to my first shifting—tells me it will succeed. You are the right counterpart to my shape-shifter self. You are grounded in a way I am not. You know who you are; you found yourself a long time back, probably while you were still growing up. You had to, given the nature of your father. I require that steadiness. My weakness has always been in the lure of the shifting. I think maybe you can resist that lure. You will be able to hold me fast. In turn, I will find your friend Chrysallin, and help you return her to her brother.”

  “But what will happen if you do? What happens to you when this is over and you no longer have me for a tether?” She stared at him, already recognizing the truth of what it would mean for him. “You will no longer be able to change. Perhaps ever again.”

  “Perhaps. Perhaps not.” He shrugged. “I am resigned to taking that risk if only to experience the changing once more before I die. Today confirmed the wisdom of my choice. I will trade those tomorrows for what time I can get if it means I am given back even a small taste of my freedom.”

  He smiled at the look on her face. “But don’t let’s get ahead of ourselves, girl. I knew what this meant when I agreed to help you. Just as you know now what it means to be tethered. Given that, does either of us think we should abandon the plan and go our separate ways?”

  A part of her did. But it was a tiny part, and the greater part accepted that their individual needs outweighed the risk. He would have his shape-shifting back, at least for a time. She would retrieve Chrysallin and return her to Paxon. You were guaranteed so little in this life, and so sometimes you took what was offered even though you knew it might end badly. Imric had made that choice. She believed she must, too.

  “If you are still willing, so am I,” she said.

  “Then the matter is settled. We’ll leave at once. We’ll fly south and have a look about the countryside. We need to find that camp I spoke of yesterday and uncover whatever traces remain of those who occupied it. After that, we will see.”

  She nodded wordlessly in agreement, but even as she did so she couldn’t help wondering what she was getting herself into.

  Leofur and Imric boarded the two-man and lifted into the sky, the sun fully risen by now, a bright wash of gold in a cloudless sky. They flew south for several hours until they reached the stark, jagged wall of the Dragon’s Teeth, and then turned east, parallel to its soaring heights. Imric offered no explanation as to why he was making this choice, and Leofur didn’t ask for one. She had to assume he knew what he was doing or any chance she had of finding Chrysallin was gone. She concentrated instead on keeping the two-man as close to the treetops as she could, giving her silent companion every opportunity to find what he was looking for. They traveled slowly so as not to miss anything, and their tedious progress was made even more so by his refusal to talk to her. The few attempts she made to engage him were ignored. He seemed almost oblivious to her.

  Or, she hoped, he was dedicating all his efforts to tracking Chrysallin and did not wish anything to distract him.

  She let her thoughts drift elsewhere to help pass the time. She replayed in her mind the circumstances of her parting from Paxon just before he left for Arishaig. They had stood together in a secluded hallway no more than twenty feet from where he would mount the landing platform and set out. They had held each other close, whispering as if afraid to break the surrounding silence.

  “Please be careful,” she told him. “Remember, you are of no use to the Druids if you are not.”

  “I know,” he responded. “I am always careful.”

  “I need to say it anyway.”

  “And I need to hear it. Will you be all right without me?”

  “I am without you most of the time anyway, Paxon. Even when you are here, you are always engaged in your work.” She sighed. “I miss you so badly sometimes. And more so because I feel as if I have no real purpose in your life.”

  “That could never be true. I love you. You know that.”

  She nodded wordlessly. “But what does that mean to you? Being in love, to me, means having time to share together, and we have so little. I want you to need to be with me. I want us to be close in all the ways that matter.”

  He was silent then, thinking. She moved into him and wrapped her arms around his body. “I don’t want to be alone. I want to be with you.”

  “When I come back,” he said, his lips against her ear, “we will find new ways to be close. We will rededicate ourselves. I will stop working so hard and be with you more. I promise. Will that help?”

  She accepted his kiss and his whispered words of love, and gave both back. Yet she remained afraid for his safety, and she wondered now, thinking back on those last moments, if she shouldn’t be afraid for her own.

  It was nearing midafternoon, the sun slipping steadily toward the western rim of the Dragon’s Teeth, twilight no more than a couple of hours away, when after hours of saying nothing Imric stiffened suddenly and exclaimed, “There!”

  He was pointing into a stand of scrubby pines in which huge boulders jutted from the earth like bones trying to break free of their grave, all spiky and sharp-edged. Amid the jumble, she saw what appeared to be a small wind-sail skiff, tipped on its side, its canvas down and its hull cracked wide.

  She brought the two-man down in the closest open space she could find, which turned out to be several hundred yards away from the wreck. Alighting, they walked toward it. The terrain was rough and heavily overgrown—gullies and hillocks and rocky protrusions were covered with layers of scrub and brambles. It took them a long time and more than a little effort to reach their destination, and by then Leofur was bruised and scratched in a dozen places.

  They stopped before they reached the skiff, and Imric placed a restraining hand on her shoulder. “Wait. Something isn’t right.”

  They stood together while he studied the wreck and then did a short visual survey of their surroundings. She waited patiently, wondering what he saw that she didn’t. Or perhaps it was something he sensed. Were his instincts that much sharper than her own? Did shape-shifters have innate abilities greater than those possessed by humans? She thought they probably did—after all, he had already hinted at it—so she let him take the lead.

  He stepped away. “I want to get a better look, but I need to change forms. Wait here for me. Do not move until I tell you to.”

  Without bothering to remove his clothes, he began to shrink. In seconds, he had changed into a species of ferret or weasel, although not one she recognized. Long and sinuous and silvery, it slithered out from beneath the pile of clothing and disappeared into the brush. She waited a moment, then fixed on a point in space and linked to him.

  She was immediately at ground level, tracking close to the earth through leaves and grasses and scrub, the trees so far above her they seemed lost in the clouds. The ferret crept forward, head snapping from side to side, its view changing so quickly she was left dizzy. She tried to keep up with its rapidly changing views and could not.

  I can’t do this, Imric. My eyes, or maybe my mind, won’t focus quickly enough.

  Never mind. Break the link. I will connect to you again when there is something to see.

  She shifted her gaze to a tree, an
d her own sight returned. She tried to catch a glimpse of him, but the terrain was so jumbled she could not make out anything. So she waited, searching the landscape about her, listening for any foreign sounds, one hand on the flash rip at her waist.

  Leofur.

  She focused her eyes on the emptiness directly in front of her to link with him again. I’m here.

  Tracks, leading east from the skiff. Several men, one woman. A day old, maybe a little more. I’m coming back to you.

  So he had found a trail. How had he managed it? What traces had brought him here when there was nothing by which to read sign save air? She was still pondering the matter when the skiff exploded. One minute everything was calm and silent, and the next the earth erupted in flames and smoke. Rocks and clods of earth went flying everywhere, and the remains of the skiff hurtled skyward in a fiery ball. She dropped to her knees, covering her head protectively as debris rained all about her.

  In the aftermath, she tried to link to him. Imric!

  Nothing. She couldn’t make the link work, couldn’t see anything through his eyes. She looked around frantically, then tried again. His vision joined hers this time, a blurry smear that was feeble and unclear.

  Where are you?

  Still nothing. She fought to make sense of the smeared images, of the brief images of ruined terrain she had seen through his eyes. But there was nothing distinctive to latch on to; he could have been anywhere. She tried to sense if he was hurt or not, but his thoughts were opaque and his emotions locked down. What had happened? Had he caused the explosion?

  She climbed back to her feet and began to move—in spite of his warning to stay where she was. She had to. He might be hurt, perhaps seriously. He might be unable to come to her. So she would have to go to him. She would search for him as best she could. Maybe at some point he would reach out to her again. He didn’t seem unconscious, so maybe he was just stunned. She pushed her way through the heavy undergrowth, hunting for him, searching everywhere as she went, trying to catch sight of his silvery ferret coat against the dark greens and browns of the forest floor.