“Where will I find one of those?” Grange asked heatedly.
Grace’s hand shot out and slapped his cheek hard.
“What do you think I am?” she asked in a hard, deliberate voice, each word drawn out slowly.
“I’m, oh, I’m, oh,” Grange stuttered. “Yes, of course. I didn’t mean anything,” he tried to find words to excuse the unintended implications of his words.
“I’m sorry; I apologize,” he belatedly added.
Some of the color left Grace’s cheeks, and the angry spark in her eyes diminished.
“I forgive you,” she said loftily. “Now, come along,” she told him, and led the way to a small rooftop garden that was deserted.
“I want you to stuff as much energy as possible into your wand,” she told Grange. “Any and all kinds of energy. Generate it and make the wand absorb it.”
Grange looked at the girl, pursed his lips, and decided to comply without any questions. He focused his attention on connecting with the energy, then called it forth, watching as the glow of the activated energy’s presence began to grow. He directed and shaped the energy, sending it crawling into the end of his bramble branch wand, letting the wand grow more and more charged with power.
He spent an hour at the task, until he felt himself grow strained from the effort. He stopped and looked at Grace, who was leaning back in her seat, eyes closed and face turned up to the sunlight.
“I’m done,” he said simply.
“Alright,” Grace answered. “Go walk around the garden, then come back here.” She spoke without opening her eyes.
Grange gladly did as instructed, walking to the railing around the garden, and looking down at the grounds below. He paused to observe servants carrying loads of goods between buildings, then returned to where Grace remained in her languid pose.
“I’m back,” he informed her.
“Good. Now, put more energy into the wand. At least as much as you’ve already put in it,” she told him, tipping her chair forward and opening her eyes to look at him.
“But it’s completely charged. I filled it,” Grange answered.
“You think you gave it as much as you could, but there can be much more put into it; there’s always more room the first time. If you want to have an effective wand, you need to discover that it can accept a greater amount of energy, and you want it to have as much as possible tonight for the operation,” Grace said directly. “So get to work again.” Without waiting for his response, she stood up and began to walk around the garden herself.
Grange obediently sat down with his wand, and began to summon the energy forth, almost apologetically, then discovered to his surprise that he could induce more of the power to reside within the wand. It seemed to enter at a slower rate than it had before, but it steadily continued to disappear into his sleek device.
He focused intently on the power, unaware of Grace’s return, or her sitting next to him, or the setting of the sun.
“We should go to the dinner,” Grace startled Grange by saying sometime later.
He looked up. “It feels like there’s room for more,” he told her.
“There may be, but it doesn’t need more power. What it needs now is to bond to you. Take out your knife,” Grace said.
“Now,” she instructed after Grange had pulled free the knife with the jewel in the haft – Brielle’s knife. “You need to dip the power end in your blood. Cut your palm and dip the wand in the blood,” she told him.
Grange raised an eyebrow and paused momentarily, checking to see if Grace was serious. She seemed to wait impatiently, so he did as instructed, wincing as the blade scored his palm, and releasing a long, red line.
He immediately put the knife away in its scabbard, and picked up the wand, then gingerly poked it into the bloody pool in his palm, and rolled the wand so that all sides were immersed in the red fluid.
“We’ll come back after dinner. You can bring your virgin friend if you’d like,” she mocked him. “Put the wand down and leave it here.”
The pair left the roof and went in search of the farewell dinner being put on for Shaylee and her mother Layreen. The room was filled with three score of people or more, it seemed to Grange, and the two departing visitors were honored by the Queen’s presence at the meal.
“Grange, it’s so nice of you to come,” Layreen commented as she crossed the room to join him. “And you’re with your companion again, I see,” she directed her eyes towards Grace.
“We’re in a training exercise, your grace, before Grange goes on a dangerous journey south,” Grace addressed the woman. “But Grange wanted to come to see you and your daughter.”
“I’m sure he wanted to see my daughter more than he wanted to see me,” Layreen laughed. “You go over and talk to her,” she motioned to Grange. “I’ll stay here with your magical friend and ask her a few questions,” the mother suggested.
Grange smiled warmly at her and took advantage of the offer to dart away from Grace, to join the circle of boys who surrounded Shaylee, as she was facing and giggling with a pair of other girls from the palace.
“You’re the one who came to her village, aren’t you?” one of the other youths asked Grange.
“I am,” Grange confirmed.
“She talks about you all the time; says you’re like a brother to her, even though you’ve only known each other a short time,” the boy told him.
“That’s nice,” Grange said at a loss, deflated by the thought of merely being like a brother to the girl.
Shaylee turned away from the whispering girls, and spotted Grange among the crowd of hovering boys.
“There you are!” Shaylee said. Her hand snuck out to squeeze the hand of another girl. “Consee assured me you’d be here tonight!”
“I wish I had been here more often,” Grange told her. “I’m sorry we didn’t spend more time together in the palace while we were in Kilau.”
“You can spend time with me after Shaylee is gone,” Consee boldly said. “She said I should look after you for her, that you were like family to her.”
“Consee!” Shaylee squealed in indignation. “That’s not what I said.”
Consee glided over to Grange’s side and put her hand possessively on the arm of the bewildered boy, as the other boys looked on jealously at the attention Grange was receiving.
“Whatever you said, I’ll take good care of him,” Consee teased Shaylee.
A small bell began to tinkle as a servant walked about advising the crowd that they were to be seated. The boy who had spoken to Grange swooped into the seat next to Shaylee, while Grange found himself sitting in a seat at the end of the table, next to Consee, who nervously arose and left him when Grace came to take the seat on his other side.
“Why did she leave?” Grange asked Grace, not disappointed by the predatory girl’s departure, but confused.
“I cast energy at her to make her want to leave,” Grace said.
“Really? You can do that?” he asked in astonishment.
She stared at him, then grinned. “No, of course not. Wizards can’t control people’s feelings; we just manipulate materials,” she answered. “You are so gullible sometimes.”
The two of them were served their meals, and ate as they chatted occasionally with those around them, while Grange kept an eye on Shaylee. The conversation lagged at their end of the table, as the other members of the court kept a reserved distance in their dealings with the two foreigners who had the strange powers.
Grange observed glumly that Shaylee seemed to enjoy her conversation with those around her, and paid little attention to the end of the table where he sat. He was partly pleased when Grace nudged him in the ribs.
“We need to return to work on your wand. The moon is up and full,” she noted the darkness they could see through the windows of the room. “Do you want to invite your friend?”
Grange glanced one more time at the girl he had come to see; she was engrossed in listening to a story told by one of he
r palace companions, the tip of her tongue just protruding between her barely parted lips as she absorbed the details of the story. She didn’t seem likely to want to leave her own party to go with him.
“No,” Grange forlornly shook his head. “Let’s just go take care of the wand.” He stood up, then pulled Grace’s chair out for her.
“Grange, my friend, you’re not leaving so soon, are you?” Layreen asked the question from a table across the room, speaking loudly enough to be heard by all.
“Won’t you play a farewell song for us? Shaylee always enjoys hearing you and your companion perform your musical magic,” the woman said.
“I don’t have my flute with me,” Grange apologized.
“Call it to come,” Grace murmured.
Grange looked sideways at her. She seemed eager to sing for the audience – there was a sparkle in her eyes – but she always seemed to want to perform, Grange reflected. He gave an inward sigh, glanced at the watching Shaylee, then muttered a quick request for the power to carry his flute to him.
The flute was traveling from his palace room, the room that was next to Grace’s. That room was evidently closer to their banquet room than Grange realized, for he was just starting to raise his hand – feeling the approach of the flute – when it arrived ahead of his expectations, and stung him by hitting his temple, then falling to the ground.
The room exploded in laughter.
“Very smooth,” Grace said softly.
Grange bent over and picked up the flute, feeling his face grow warm as he blushed.
“We’ll play something pleasing,” Grace told him, bending slightly and placing her arm around his shoulders as he stood. “We’ll make them forget.
“Their favorite song is a ballad, ‘Saying Goodbye at the Last Island’,” she told him.
“I know the tune,” Grange recollected playing the song.
“Start it now,” Grace pulled her wand out and muttered a soft phrase, then touched the wand to Grange’s flute and to her throat.
Grange began the song with the soft opening notes that evinced the call of a dove, then Grace started singing the lyrics. The audience was immediately enraptured, and when the song ended five minutes later, the response was appreciative murmurs at first, then a round of applause and a standing ovation.
“Truly an appropriate tune, so expertly sung, to convey the longing we will feel for our departing family,” the Queen spoke. “Thank you for telling Layreen and Shaylee how we all feel about their journey home.”
The two wizard apprentices bowed appreciatively.
“Now, if you’ll excuse us,” Grace said, and she and Grange exited from the banquet hall. Grange paused in the doorway and turned to look back at Shaylee one more time. The girl was staring after him, then turned away as their eyes met. Grange looked over at Layreen then, and saw that she had observed the exchange, before she gave him a wave. He waved back, then followed Grace through the palace and back to the roof top.
“Pick up your wand,” Grace told Grange when they sat down in the garden spot.
“Now close your eyes, take a deep breath, relax,” she told him. There were several seconds of silence, as he paused and tried to comply. He was feeling excitement – the thrill of knowing that he was taking a step forward in creating a wand – and the effort to stay calm was taxing, made even more futile as the image of Shaylee wavered in the forefront of his thoughts.
“Wipe your mind clear of everything – all concerns,” Grace said in a soft voice. “Tell me when you are at peace.”
Grange waited ten seconds, sure that would seem long enough to have achieved calmness.
“I’m ready,” he said softly.
“Now, use your knife to cut your palm again, then cut mine,” she told him, as she held her hand out towards him. Grange obediently picked up his knife, then lightly cut Grace’s hand.
“Do it again. You’ll need more blood,” she told him. He repeated the scoring, then cut his own hand again, re-opening the slice from the first ceremony.
“Pick up your wand in your bloody hand, then hold it and join with my bloody hand,” Grace instructed.
He obediently did so, trapping the slender piece of wood within the wet slickness between their two hands.
“Squeeze it tight, and think about the power within it,” Grace said. “Now raise it up and point it at the full moon,” she told him.
Their arms were raised together, their fingers locked, high overhead, and the position brought their two bodies in contact, pressed against each other. Grange looked into Grace’s eyes. He saw excitement there, as he was sure she saw in his own, despite his claim of feeling calm.
“Release the power when I tell you – discharge it all at once, as powerfully as you can, aimed at the moon, and focus on the wand, then let your mind fill with everything you can possibly think of that you might ever do with the power – everything – while you discharge,” Grace spoke deliberately and softly, her mouth so near his face that she had no need to speak in more than a whisper.
Grange shut his eyes and tried to imagine all the things he might do with the power of his wand. He would fight demons, he was sure of that, and he imagined the wand setting demons aflame. Grace began to quietly chant in the ancient language, asking the power to remember and serve and be patient. Grange focused again on his wishes – he would want to heal people, he knew. He wanted to make buildings strong, make waters clear, the air comfortable, weapons strong, lights glow brightly…
“Grange?” he heard Shaylee’s voice suddenly call him as he imagined using the energy from the wand to bring light to dark places, and he was startled.
The unexpected sound of her voice triggered multiple reactions within him. He thought of her – of the way she looked back in the village, when the two of them had wrestled on the sandy beaches, and the bright sunlight that had shone on her, warming her and making her skin glisten with warmth. He thought of the great power in the wand. He imagined a peaceful, serene life, without concerns or schedules or adversaries.
Then the trigger pulled, and he released the energy.
“Grange?” he heard Grace’s voice, as she sensed the release of power, a fraction of an instant before it began.
A brilliant beam of light exploded out of the upward end of the wand, pointed straight up. It was as bright as sunlight, casting its light across the entire palace island as it rose into the sky, seeking to reach the impossibly distant moon.
Grange felt the energy pulsing upward, as he thought about Shaylee and sunlight and his infatuation with the girl, then he heard Grace whimper. “This isn’t right,” she said, and he felt her head collapse against his shoulder.
There was suddenly an upwelling of new energy within him, more energy than the wand had held just moments earlier when the ceremony had begun.
His mind was flooded with memories. He thought of his life in Fortune, with the orphanage, and Garrel, his friend, along with Hockis, the betrayer. He thought about the tunnel in the mountain and the jewels he had found. Ariana came to mind – her movements and appearance and cool personality. There were frightening recollections of battles with demons – solitary and singular monsters as well as the incomprehensible invasion of the dark nightmares that had nearly overwhelmed him in Selebe’s garden.
Brieed and Grace and Eli and the adventures in Palmland came to mind. He heard words in the ancient language of the power flowing through his brain, and kindly Medina, the goddess who had blessed his sword, seemed on the verge of telling him something important.
Then he was somewhere in the sky, looking down at a lagoon, where Shaylee was struggling to swim through the surf, bearing a heavy load in the rolling sea. He saw her drag a body – his own body – up onto the sandy beach and start pressing the water out of his lungs.
The power he was discharging swelled to a greater capacity, expelling even more energy upwards into the sky, casting stark shadows across all the palace and much of the city that was illuminated by the towerin
g beacon of power.
Grange thought of Shaylee, who had rescued him, and he turned his eyes to look at her. As he did, he felt a hiccup in the eruption of energy within him, and there was a flashing explosion outward from his body, not upward through the wand. He saw the wave of energy strike Shaylee and pass through her as the power instantaneously expanded outward.
Two things happened: the flow of power ceased abruptly, and the pillar of light dwindled instantly into a narrow thread, then into darkness. And at the same time Shaylee collapsed towards the ground. Grange felt his own knees weaken, while Grace slumped downward, unconscious, before he managed to wrap an arm around her and slow her descent.
Grange gently laid the unconscious apprentice wizard on the ground, then stumbled over to Shaylee, as he heard a hubbub of voices arising from all corners of the palace grounds around them.
Shaylee lay unconscious on the ground, glowing. Grange was glowing as well, he realized, and his illuminated hands carefully stroked the hair back off the face of the girl who had stumbled into the energy ritual for the wand, and been exposed to tremendous energy. She was glowing with a light that Grange considered to at least be healthy in appearance, as his own glow seemed to be; it was a warm, inviting light, remarkably like the early morning sunrise. He glanced over his shoulder at the unconscious Grace and confirmed that she was not glowing, only lying on the rooftop garden asleep.
He heard steps on the stairs, and he rose wearily from his spot next to Shaylee.
“Gods under the sea save us!” a man’s voice said from the stairwell. Grange looked over, and saw the man’s face, an expression of fear on it, illuminated by the light that Grange himself was radiating.
“What is it?” Layreen’s voice called from further down the stairwell.
“It’s okay,” Grange spoke to the man, who was frozen in place. “I’m not going to hurt you.
“Layreen, my lady, come up please,” Grange called. He knelt back down besides Shaylee again, and heard the light patter of Layreen’s steps passing by the man on the steps.
“What have you done to her?” Layreen asked in an accusatory voice as she knelt next to Grange. Without flinching away from the glowing flesh of her daughter, or of Grange, she reached down to touch Shaylee’s cheeks, and hands, then forehead, examining her.
Perilous Travels (The Southern Continent Series Book 2) Page 22
