by Tanya Huff
Chapter Sixteen
The roaring in her ears drowned out the normal sounds of the Ardhan camp as Crystal knelt at Bryon's side, cradling his head in her lap, her eyes closed and dry. She knew the Duke of Belkar stood behind her, tears cutting channels through the grime on his face, and she felt his grief more clearly than her own. She wasn't sure it was grief she felt.
A single beam of moonlight cut through the gathering darkness, rested briefly on Bryon's still body and then was trapped in the silver net of Crystal's hair. When she finally stood, it rose with her. She brushed by Belkar, not seeing him, and strode down the path to the battlefield.
"Crystal, " Tayer called, but Mikhail put his arm around her and shook his head.
"I don't think she can hear you, my love. "
"But she shouldn't be alone. " Tayer wiped her eyes with a square of lace and linen pulled from her sleeve.
I'm afraid she'll always be alone, Mikhail thought, but all he said was, "No, she shouldn't. "
They followed their daughter down the path, each resting a hand gently on Belkar's shoulder as they passed the old man who stood silently mourning for his son. When they reached the battlefield, Crystal already stood on her outcropping of rock, arms raised to the moon.
As they watched, her hair lifted and wove patterns in the air, gathering in the light and absorbing it. Her eyes were pools so deep that the green appeared black. She stood unmoving, a sculpture of white marble rather than living flesh and her beauty had never been more terrible. She looked so little like their daughter that Tayer and Mikhail suddenly found themselves more afraid of her than for her.
If Kraydak had thought to paralyze her with grief, he had made a grave mistake.
She knew what she was feeling now. She was furious. No matter that her own power had been depleted; there were other sources and her anger would act as focus for them.
Without warning, she ignited in a glorious blaze of silver fire. Every leaf, every twig, every blade of grass in the surrounding area stood out in sharp relief against their own tiny and impenetrable black shadows. Tayer and Mikhail staggered back, nearly blinded by the intensity. Behind them, they heard the rest of the army cautiously approaching, drawn like moths to the flame. The men and women carrying the wounded from the battlefield favored the wizard with a startled glance, then, giving thanks for the light which made their job easier, hurried to finish before it went out.
When the light of the wizard outshone the light of the moon, Crystal called.
The mountains answered. The sound was so wild and inhuman that many of those who heard it fell to their knees in terror, fingers stuffed in their ears in a hopeless attempt to block it out. They sang together for a moment, the wizard and the Earth, and then Crystal clenched her fingers into fists.
The song of the mountain ceased, replaced by a rumbling roar-rock, torn from its rest and hurtling earthward. The Melacian army was camped in the shelter of the mountains. Their screams could be heard all the way across the Plateau.
A blue bolt arced down from the heavens, but Crystal almost contemptuously swatted it aside. It was closely followed by a second and a third. The fourth she grabbed and held and threw it back the way it had come. There was no fifth bolt.
She clenched her fists again.
With a tortured scream, an entire cliff face sheared away and plummeted down on the Melacian camp.
Mikhail staggered up to his daughter, tears running from his burning eyes.
Thus must the wizards of old have looked at the height of their powers, proud and distant and not the least bit human.
"Crystal!" He clutched at her arm and was surprised to find it icy cold.
"Enough! You've done enough!"
She shrugged free of his grasp with such ease that Mikhail wasn't sure she even knew he'd been there. Her seemingly gentle motion flung him back and off his feet. Through slitted eyes, he saw a small form moving past him and up to face the wizard. "Tayer, no, " he began and then realized that it wasn't his wife.
Her eyes squinted nearly closed against the glare, Kly pulled back her arm and punched the wizard as hard as she could in the stomach. She had intended a slap in the face but had discovered to her chagrin that she wasn't tall enough.
Crystal's gaze snapped back from the distance and she dropped it to the young woman's face. When their eyes met, Kly found the light no longer blinded her and she stared back fearlessly, not even trying to escape as she fell into the darkness. As she felt herself and all she was, probed, examined, and absorbed, the darkness lightened and grew green. When she returned to herself, the wizard looked down at her with eyes that glowed the deeper green of summer leaves.
"It wasn't because I loved him, " Crystal explained, as much to herself as to Kly, her voice deathly calm. "It was because I never got the chance to find out. "
Kiy nodded. "I know, " she said.
And because Kly understood, Crystal sighed and the light went out.
Kraydak's servants were used to the blue bolts that blazed out from the top of the tower. They knew that with each bolt went death and destruction for their master's enemies. They had never before seen one come back.
"Master?" He edged his twisted body around the door and peered fearfully into the room. He had not been called and the punishment for entering unbidden was severe, but the returning bolt had shaken the tower and he was sure he had heard his master cry out in pain.
"Master?"
There, against the far wall.
The servant scrambled farther into the wizard's sanctuary. The door swung silently shut behind him and he whimpered low in his throat. It was too late to turn back. He forced abused limbs into motion and shuffled painfully across the carpet toward the blue and gold bundle on the floor.
A thin trickle of blood ran from Kraydak's nose, streaking the sculptured beauty of his face. His eyes were closed and his head twisted back at an awkward angle, but the golden chest still rose and fell: he lived.
With a gnarled finger, the servant gently touched his master's blood. He stared at the scarlet stain for a moment then brought the finger to his lips.
It tasted no different from his own.
Deep in the prison of his mind, the man he had once been woke and screamed,
"Kill him! If he can be hurt, he can be killed! Kill him! You will never have this chance again!"
The servant awkwardly wiped the blood from Kraydak's face. He had learned long ago that it hurt much less to ignore the voices in his head. He would wait and his master would wake and he would be told what to do. Even now the wizard's eyes were opening.
Blue fires. Searing. Burning. Consuming. Killing.
The inner voice died first, then the servant's body spasmed and collapsed at his master's feet.
Kraydak kicked the broken thing aside and staggered to the inner room where he threw himself down on the marble bench.
"That wizard-child is lucky beyond belief, " he snarled, checking the lump on the back of his head. "She dares to throw my power back at me! At me, Kraydak!" He winced as he probed the sore spot, his eyes glowed briefly, and the pain was gone.
"You have hidden depths, wizardling, " he continued in a softer voice-a voice the servant would have recognized with terror had he been alive to hear it.
"You destroyed my armies and you caused me pain. " Twice now she'd hurt him, and that was beyond even his ability to forgive. "Of course, the army will be replaced, and while that game continues, we will play a new game, you and I. I will call you to my side and you will learn about pain. " He reached down and stroked the skinning knife that lay on the bench beside him.
"Bryon was right. " Crystal struggled to keep her voice steady and matter of fact. It held an edge, she knew, but none of the hysteria she had feared would appear the moment she opened her mouth. She'd spent the night, trembling in exhaustion and reaction, alone in her tent, not even her mother daring to force an entry. The ear
th sang quiet songs to her, filling the darkness with comfort, and by morning she had calmed herself. When she entered the queen's pavilion, and met the eyes of the council members, she knew no one would ever call her princess again.
"Bryon was right about what, dear?" Tayer asked kindly.
Crystal knew they humored her, but she didn't care. She saw the fear in the glances of the soldiers and didn't care about that either. Kraydak had also been right. Care about someone and you only get hurt. She wasn't going to care anymore.
"He said I couldn't fight Kraydak alone. That someday I'd have to ask for help. "
"We'll do what we can, " Mikhail told her, but wondered what sort of help mere mortals could give to a seventeen-year-old girl who could call to the earth and have it answer.
The wizard shook her head. "What can you do?" she asked bluntly. "What can any of us do? Last night my anger gave me strength, but I can't be angry all the time. " She walked to the tent flap and looked out at the sunshine. The wind brought her the sound of metal on rock, the pitiful remnants of the Melacian army digging out their camp. For an instant, she reached out and touched the power she'd called the night before. It stirred and she backed quickly away from a seduction more dangerous than any Kraydak could attempt. Without her rage as focus she knew she lacked the skill to control the forces her power, small in comparison, could release.
The council exchanged worried glances and Belkar rubbed a hand over red and puffy eyes. They had buried his son with the dawn.
"Then what's left?" he sighed.
Crystal turned to him and her expression was more human than it had been at any time since Bryon had died. Even in her anger, she had realized his loss had been the greater one; he was an old man, he would have no more sons. "The Doom of the Ancient Wizards, " she said almost gently. "The dragons. "
"The dragons?" the council repeated in one voice, an incident that would have been funny any other time.
"The dragons, " snorted the new Duke of Lorn, a wiry, brown man who resembled his sister Kly a great deal, "returned to the earth thousands of years ago.
When the wizards died. "
"But one of those wizards lives, " Crystal reminded him. "If the legends are true, then so too must one dragon. "
The wizards had created the dragons in a contest to determine, once and for all, who was mightiest. They had drawn up the very bones of the earth and changed them, reshaping them into giant flying reptiles, breathers of fire and frost. Each wizard poured his or her mightiest spells into a dragon, and when the great beasts were finished each wizard gave up a piece of his or her own life force so that the dragons might live.
Each dragon was a part of the wizard who'd created it.
But the dragons were also made from the body of the Mother and, to their horror, the wizards could not control the creatures they had made. In great battles that lasted years and forever changed the face of the land, the dragons slew their makers. There was never any doubt of the outcome. In their conceit, the wizards had created too well. As long as the wizard who created it lived, so too would the dragon. And the dragons were stronger.
When the wizards were defeated, the dragons returned to the earth from which they were made. But if one wizard still lived. . .
"Then Kraydak's dragon must live!" Hope rang out in Tayer's voice. They had a chance after all.
But Cei was shaking his head, jowls jiggling with the motion. "Impossible.
Firstly, if it lived, it would be fighting Kraydak, which it isn't. Secondly, Kraydak is many things, but I've never seen anything to make me think he's a fool and he must believe that the dragon is dead. You said yourself, he emerged from hiding when he realized he'd escaped his Doom. "
"It's been thousands of years, " Crystal replied. "Kraydak has to believe he destroyed the dragon during their last battle. How else could he still live?"
"How, indeed, " muttered Lorn.
'But you don't believe the dragon is dead?" persisted Tayer.
"If Kraydak lives, the dragon lives. He may have stopped it, but he couldn't kill it without killing himself. "
"And why hasn't Kraydak come to this conclusion?" Lorn demanded. "As Cei pointed out, he's no fool. "
"Because he'd rather believe he escaped his Doom than believe it still lurks around some dark corner. " Crystal shrugged. "He was the most powerful of the wizards, maybe he has convinced himself that he can't be defeated. "
The council considered that. Kraydak's ego could indeed blind him, convince him that he must have killed the dragon and, alone of all the wizards, escaped the consequences.
"Maybe, " said Lorn suddenly, "Kraydak's right. Maybe he did accomplish what he thinks. "
"Impossible. The dragons were created a extensions of the wizard's life force, not as separate beings. If a wizard lives, a dragon must. The Mother doesn't break her own rules. "
But She's willing to bend them, Tayer thought, watching her daughter and knowing that Crystal was something more than just the last wizard. Moonrise came early last night.
"Why, " asked Belkar softly, "did you not think of this until now?"
Crystal turned slowly to face him. Why did you not think of this earlier, asked his heart, before my son had to die. "Until last night, I thought as Kraydak does; he is the most powerful of the wizards, he destroyed his Doom.
But last night I touched the body of the Mother and it is stronger that he could ever be. The dragons were made of that body, he could no more destroy them than he could destroy it. Somewhere Kraydak's Doom still lives, and I swear to you I will will find it and use it to destroy Kraydak. "
It will not bring back my son, said Belkar's heart, but the old duke only nodded and gently touched Crystal's face, wiping away the tears she hadn't been aware she'd shed.
"All right, " Cei said at last, "where do we find this creature?"
"I don't know. I'll have to ask someone who was there. "
"That was a thousand years. . . " Cei began, but Tayer broke in.
"The Grove!"
Crystal nodded. "Yes, Mother, the Grove. It's time to wake the trees. "
Tayer sighed. She felt the peace of the circle of trees tugging at her heart. The one thing that had made all this death and destruction bearable had been the thought of the Grove, forever unchanging, waiting silently and patiently for her return. If Crystal had to wake the trees, there could be no hope that that peace would remain unbroken.
"But the Grove is weeks away, " Hale protested. "Even riding the fastest horses with frequent changes. "
"The wind can get there in a few hours, " Crystal told him, "I'll ride the wind. "
After what she had done to the mountain, no one doubted she could ride the wind; ride it, dance with it, and tie it in knots if she wanted to.
"But what of Kraydak?"
Silence fell as they all considered what would happen if Kraydak attacked while Crystal was gone. Very faintly, in the distance, could be heard the wails of the Melacian survivors.
Crystal almost smiled. "He set the rules for this game and they say we must both have an army. He'll be busy for a while. "
"When are you going?" These were the first words Riven had said to Crystal since he had left King's Town so many weeks before. They weren't what he had intended his first words to be.
"Now. " She brushed past him, uncomfortable with the way his eyes followed her-Bryon was dead-and left the pavilion, a breeze dancing ecstatically in her hair.
Tayer held tightly to Mikhail's hand as Crystal spread her arms and the wind began to rise. Harder and harder it blew, until tent ropes snapped and men had to scramble to keep the tents from flying away. Dirt and ashes spun through the air, blinding those who still had their eyes open. Then, just as suddenly as it had started, the wind stopped. When people could see again through watering eyes, the wizard was gone.
Crystal didn't so much ride the wind as become a part of it. Spread thinly on the air, s
he let it blow away her doubts, her fears, her anger. It was very tempting just to let go, to let it blow away her self as well, to give up form and failure completely and be one with the wind. Very tempting.
Fortunately for the Ardhan army, the centaurs had spent six long years implanting in Crystal the one thing that the original wizards had never acknowledged: with great power comes great responsibility.
The Grove stood silent and beautiful, untouched by the world outside. The peace within it was a warm and loving presence. A presence that fled with Crystal's arrival. The trees pulled back from her and their leaves trembled in a way that had nothing to do with the wind.
The centaurs had taught her more than one way to wake the Ladies of the Grove.
She chose the fastest. She wasn't very polite about it either. Looking deep into the heart of each tree, she wrapped lines of force about the life that slumbered there, and pulled.
Yawning and grumbling, the hamadryads were drawn forth. Twelve beautiful women, with silver hair, ivory skin, and leaf green eyes, stood ringed around a thirteenth. But the resemblance was purely physical between Crystal and these distant aunts, no emotion stronger than self-interest marred the expressions of the twelve, no breeze dared disturb the beauty of their hair.
"Well, Youngest, " said one finally, "are you going to tell us why we were so rudely awakened or arc you going to stand and stare at us all day?"
Crystal started. She hadn't realized she was staring; knowing you bore the face and form of an Elder race was one thing, seeing it something else. "I need your help. "
"She needs our help, " echoed another. "Did Milthra ask for our help when she started this mess?"
"No, " continued a third. "And did They ask for our help when They planted that, " all heads turned to look at the youngest of the trees from which no hamadryad had come, "in our grove?"
"No, " finished a fourth. "But now the last of the wizards needs our help. "
"You know me?" The last of the wizards knew she asked a ridiculous question.
It annoyed her that she found the massed presence of the Mother's eldest children so intimidating.
"Know you? We watched you being conceived. "
"And an ugly. . . mortal display it was, too. " added the nymph who had spoken first. "My name is Rayalva. I am Eldest now Milthra is gone. You may address your plea to me. "
Crystal was not in the mood to be patronized. She gritted her teeth and her eyes began to glow.
Rayalva smiled with total insincerity. "You have no power over us, wizard.
Now, what do you want?"
Swallowing her ire, and reminding herself how badly she needed the information these infuriating creatures possessed, Crystal forced politeness into her voice. "I need to know where Kraydak's dragon is. "
"If you want a dragon, " yawned a nymph who had not yet spoken, "make one yourself. That's what all the other wizards did. "
Crystal ignored her and her sisters and spoke only to Rayalva. "The dragons were tied to the life force of the ancient wizards. If Kraydak still lives, then the dragon he created must live also. "
The Eldest stared at her in disbelief. "You woke us up to tell us that? Of course, the dragon still lives. He's sound asleep, mind you, but he lives.
Didn't the centaurs teach you anything?"
"Yes, but. . . "
"For several centuries great forces have been stirring and making things decidedly uncomfortable for the sole purpose of creating you so that you could wake the dragon. "
Crystal sat down rather suddenly on the grass. Her mouth opened and closed a few times. "They never told me that, " she managed at last.
"It's something the centaurs would expect you to figure out for yourself, "
Rayalva said unsympathetically. "Men, idiots! You, no doubt, have been fighting Kraydak yourself. "
"Yes. " A blue bolt smashed Bryon from the saddle. Crystal cringed, her throat closed, and she seemed to have forgotten how to breathe. Because she had fought Kraydak, Bryon had died. The hamadryad's next words came from very far away.
"A waste of time, you can't defeat him. Well, maybe in a couple of thousand years you could, " Rayalva was forced to admit, "when your powers mature. You can do many things, you know, not dreamed of by the wizards of old. All your mothers saw to that. "
"All my mothers, " Crystal repeated weakly, her gaze going to her father's tree.
Rayalva sighed. "You still haven't figured it out, have you?"
She forced herself past Bryon's death. At least she could learn how to avenge him. "Figured what out?"
"Who were the parents of the ancient wizards?"
"The male gods and mortal women. "
"And what was the first thing the wizards did when they came into their powers?"
"Killed their fathers so there would be no more wizards. "
"And their father were?"
"The male gods!" Crystal snapped, becoming impatient with the catechism.
"Leaving who to create more wizards?"
"If the male gods were dead. . . " She thought for a moment. "The female gods? But my father. . . "
Rayalva sighed again. "When the remaining gods saw that a wizard had survived, they pooled their essence and presented it to a daughter of the Royal House of Ardhan in such a way that she would be forced to create a child from it. Only Milthra's heritage kept her alive through that creation; a fully mortal woman would have been consumed. " Rayalva began to slide back into her tree, the other hamadryads following her lead. "You have no father, child, " she said almost kindly, "but you have a multitude of mothers. "
"I knew we shouldn't have let the centaurs educate her, " muttered a disappearing nymph. "Wait!" protested Crystal, leaping to her feet and staring around the now empty grove. "You haven't told me where the dragon is!" "With the dwarves, " came the answer, and then even the leaves were silent.
Crystal was almost back to the camp when she felt Kraydak searching for her.
He used only a tendril of his power, the merest fraction of what she knew he could call up, but it was enough. Dwelling on Bryon's death, she had forgotten to set barriers, leaving herself open to attack. Bit by bit, Kraydak pried her free from the wind and when he had re-formed her flesh, he dropped her.
Over a lake.
He still played games.
Crystal hit the water with enough force to knock the breath from her, plunging straight down to the bottom. Bound by the weight of her clothes, she began to panic. She thrashed toward what she thought was the surface, her violent movements erasing any chance of floating. Her clothes felt like lead sheets wrapped around her arms and legs. Her lungs burned. She had to breathe. She had to breathe. She had to breathe. She. . .
Suddenly, something grabbed her hair and hauled her head up out of the water.
She forced herself to relax, to gulp great mouthfuls of air, and allow herself to be dragged to safety by the strong arm under her chin. In the shallows, the arm released her, but before she could try to stand, she was picked up and carried to shore.
"Are you all right?" asked Riven anxiously as he gently eased her down.
"I'm fine, " she said, checking and discovering it was true. She looked up at Riven's worried face but couldn't quite manage to smile. He'd saved her life.
Lord Death had been very close. What a stupid way for a wizard to die. She'd never been so embarrassed in her life. "Thank you. "
Riven shrugged self-consciously and pushed his wet hair out of his eyes. His hand was fine-boned, an old scrape nearly healed across the knuckles. His eyes were deepset under heavy brows and so light a hazel they were almost green. He was slender but obviously strong and. . .
Crystal couldn't believe she was lying there considering the appearance of the Duke of Riven. Bryon was dead. She struggled to her feet, pretending not to see Riven's offer of a helping hand.
"Where are we?"
"About two miles from ca
mp. I was checking the patrols when I saw you fall. "
He watched her with an almost puzzled expression on his face. For just a moment the wizard hadn't looked like a wizard at all. Nor like a princess.
She nodded, and staggering only slightly, set out in the direction he'd indicated. Riven fell into step beside her and an uncomfortable silence prevailed.
"Did you find out about the dragon?" he asked at last.
"With the dwarves, " she said shortly, not wanting to acknowledge his presence because then she'd have to acknowledge some disturbing thoughts, mostly having to do with the feel of his arms around her as he carried her from the water.
"The dwarves?" He stopped, then had to hurry to catch up as Crystal marched resolutely on. "But the dwarves refuse to have anything to do with humankind.
No one has any idea of where to find them. "
Crystal remembered Mikhail's great black sword and finally achieved a smile.
