He didn’t answer at first, just gazed at her with his deceptively calm eyes. “Good,” he said at last. “I was beginning to wonder if you really wanted to be here at all. You don’t ever want to make me wonder about you again.”
“No,” she said at once, all swagger and scorn gone from her voice. “No, Mage Krelig. I won’t. You won’t need to wonder about me. I promise.”
He nodded, then smiled. “Excellent!” He gestured carelessly at her, and Calen saw the healing energy fly toward her a split second before she gasped again and the wound closed itself up, disappearing as though it had never existed.
“Now, Calen.” Krelig nodded toward the door Calen had so recently entered through.
“What rooms should I give them?”
“I don’t care. Any rooms you want.”
Calen turned and walked out, not waiting to see if they were even out of their chairs yet. Soon enough he heard their hurried footsteps on the stone floor behind him. He led them to the opposite side of the castle from where his own room was. He wanted them as far away from him as possible.
When he reached the entrance to the long hallway he’d selected, he waved vaguely in the direction of the several closed doors that lined each side. “You can take any of these rooms you like.” Then he started back the way they’d come.
The obnoxious girl — Mage Helena — stepped up beside him. “Is he always like that? So — so volatile? I didn’t —”
Calen whirled to face her. “Don’t speak to me,” he said coldly. “I’m not your guide or your ally or your friend. You’ll figure out what it’s like here soon enough. Either that, or he’ll probably kill you. But don’t expect me to make your life any easier. Or to be any part of it at all.”
Her mouth opened, but he strode off before she could say whatever she was about to say.
This was not good. Now that some mages had started to arrive, how quickly would others follow? Did it mean that Krelig was going to be ready to do something soon? Calen had to escape before that happened. Before anything happened. Before his presence here could actively help Mage Krelig in any way.
He thought about his jumping spell again.
No.
I know. I know. But . . .
No. Jumping to places he could see would take too long. And jumping to places he couldn’t see would be too dangerous. He had to think of something else. He had to.
He’d learned so much since he’d been here. He’d gotten better, and faster, and he could cast new, more difficult spells and more than one at a time and protect himself against more of what Krelig cast at him, but nothing he’d learned seemed immediately applicable toward helping him get away. Which was probably not an accident. Mage Krelig was not an idiot. He knew Calen hadn’t wanted to come here. He must suspect that Calen would escape if he could. Unless he was crazy enough to believe that Calen might have completely changed his mind.
But Krelig didn’t seem to care about Calen’s motivations. He just wanted Calen here so that he’d be able to use Calen’s abilities in whatever way he could to help destroy the Magistratum and set up his terrifying new world order. He seemed to take it for granted that now that Calen was here, he’d remain. At least for as long as Krelig wanted him to. And why not? Where could he go? How could he possibly escape? He didn’t even know where they were, let alone how to get back home.
Calen went through the door into his room and out onto his balcony. He looked out at the treetops and the sparkly glimpses of the river through the forest and the birds and the slowly moving clouds and tried not to despair. He would figure something out. He would. He had to.
He’d thought about trying to contact Meg through dreams, trying to re-create some less-terrible version of the dream spell that Sen Eva had used to try to influence Wilem and drive Meg insane. But he was too afraid that something could go wrong. And that whole experience had literally been a nightmare for Meg. He couldn’t really bring himself to consider violating her mind in that way, not after how horrible it had been for her before. His intentions would be different, of course, and he hoped (gods, he hoped) that she’d be glad to hear from him . . . but not that way.
Which left . . . what? The summoning spell he’d used to contact Serek in the past was too obvious; Krelig had certainly blocked against that, and even if he hadn’t, he would know — Calen was certain he would — if Calen attempted it. He needed something Mage Krelig would never have thought of himself, and so wouldn’t be on guard against.
Some of the little birds came to see if Calen had brought any bread for them.
“Sorry, friends,” he said. “No more bread today. I’ll have some more tomorrow.” They couldn’t understand him, of course, but that didn’t stop him from talking to them. He supposed it was slightly less crazy than talking to himself, anyway.
Not much, though.
Shut up.
He saw the crow from earlier again, circling over the trees. Or maybe it was a different crow; it’s not like he could tell one from another, really. He tried to remember if he’d seen any crows around here before today. Mostly he just remembered the cheerful colorful birds, and maybe a hawk or two, which he remembered because he worried that they might attack his little feathered friends.
And this crow was acting so . . . odd. Circling and circling, but not over a single spot, as he’d seen carrion birds do when there was something dead on the ground below, waiting to be eaten. What are you up to, Mr. Crow? Idly, Calen sent a tendril of white energy toward it, crafting a little impromptu spell of the sort he’d use to investigate an object or search for information. He used something similar when he was trying to find Krelig in the morning for lessons, but that was purely about location. This one was more about a general sense of what the crow was about. He didn’t expect to be able to read its mind or anything like that — even if crows had enough thoughts in their brains for there to be something to read, he didn’t know any kind of spell that could see inside someone else’s head. Even Mage Krelig didn’t seem to know that kind of spell, or he surely would have used it on Calen by now. And on everyone else, too.
But it was an interesting exercise, anyway, and Krelig did expect him to work in between lessons — not just practicing what he’d been taught, but attempting things he hadn’t been taught, thinking creatively, trying new things. Calen half smiled, thinking of how different Krelig was from Serek. Serek hated when Calen was creative with magic. He always seemed to expect that Calen would accidentally blow up the universe. Maybe Mage Krelig just wasn’t particularly concerned about the fate of the universe. He probably thought blowing it up would be an improvement. He did want to tear down everything and start again, after all.
Calen pushed these thoughts aside and concentrated on his bird spell. He wasn’t sure what he expected to find out — maybe a sense of where it had been, or where it meant to go. . . . He watched as his tiny tendril reached its distant, circling form.
It altered course at once, flying straight at him.
Calen watched, fascinated. He hadn’t been attempting to draw it closer. Had it been attracted by the magic in some way? It kept coming, finally landing awkwardly on the wall right before him. The little birds scattered nervously, but the crow paid no attention to them. It tilted its head and looked Calen right in the eye.
Then it opened its beak and he heard Meg’s voice, speaking his name.
MEG WALKED STIFFLY OVER TO THE water station. She’d never imagined she would ever need a break from riding her dragon, but then, she’d also never imagined some of Captain Varyn’s more creative ideas for training drills. For the past two hours she’d been running Jakl through vigorous flying formations while trying to hold fast to “unconscious” soldiers riding along with her. Thankfully, they weren’t really unconscious, and could grab hold when her own grasp slipped. And even more thankfully, they were all wearing safety harnesses with ropes securely fastened to the dragon’s own harness, in case their grasps slipped, too. Every muscle in her body ached from the strain of staying on
Jakl’s back while trying to keep the soldiers from falling. She’d only had to work with one at a time, but even that was hard. They were heavy!
“Nice work up there,” Zeb called as he trotted past her. She didn’t know how any of them could have the energy or flexibility for anything faster than a slow, stiff walk, but maybe it was a lot easier to be the unconscious soldier than the girl trying to hold him in place on top of a flying dragon. Zeb was one of the ones she’d successfully held in place until she could drop him back off where the rest of his team had been waiting. She gave him a tired but grateful smile and kept walking. She needed that water.
Captain Varyn came up beside her as she was finishing her second cup. “Not bad,” he said.
Meg snorted, then choked, getting water up her nose.
“Thanks,” she said, once she’d recovered. “I dropped a few, though, didn’t I?”
He shrugged. “Not perfect, no. But not bad. To be honest, I thought you’d drop more of them. You’re stronger than you look.” He looked at her appraisingly. “Or just more stubborn than I gave you credit for.”
Meg laughed. “I am pretty stubborn,” she admitted.
“It’s a good quality in a soldier. Can be, anyway, if it’s about the right things.”
“I’m not a soldier.”
“Sure you are. You are as long as you’re training with my men and following my orders, anyway. Maybe it’s only temporary, but that doesn’t change anything right here in the present.” He took her cup and filled it again. “Drink up. You’ve got another hour of training yet.”
Meg fought back a groan and stood up straighter. “Yes, sir!”
He grinned at her and jogged (jogged!) away. But then, he hadn’t even been one of the unconscious soldiers. He’d gotten to stay on the ground shouting commands at the rest of them.
Meg finished her third cup, then turned back to where the others were already reassembling. They weren’t a very large group — only about fifty all together. Captain Varyn had told her early on that the commander wanted to keep the dragon company on the smaller side. For one thing, not that many soldiers had volunteered, at least at first. But more important, they were meant to be a small, quick, flexible unit, able to work together and adapt to changing conditions easily. The larger the group, the harder it was to change direction or alter course midstride.
Captain Varyn opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again, staring past Meg. The rest of them, Meg included, turned to follow his gaze.
A pair of soldiers was running toward them. Running . . . awkwardly. One was visibly limping.
“Captain!” they said together, lurching to a semblance of attention when they arrived. Meg gasped before she could stop herself. Their uniforms were splattered with blood.
Captain Varyn waved a hand almost angrily at them. “At ease, soldiers. Report!”
“Attack on our company,” said the one who’d been limping. “Captain Halse sent us back, to warn you. We received a message just before they hit us. It —”
“Stop,” Varyn said, holding up a hand. “Come with me, both of you. I think this needs to go directly to the commander.” He turned to Meg and the others. “That’s the end of training for today. Get your gear cleaned up and report to your barracks to await further instructions.” Then he started at a run for the castle. The pair of soldiers fell in behind him.
The rest of Varyn’s company broke up, murmuring in reaction, heading toward the armory or to collect gear that was still out in the training field. Except Devan, who approached to help Meg unfasten her leather breastplate without his usual smile.
Meg thanked him and turned toward the castle. She wished that Varyn had let the soldiers finish. A new attack anywhere was bad, but she had a feeling that the content of whatever message they’d received was worse. She had to get cleaned up and find her parents. Her soldier duties might be over for the morning, but she suspected the princess-heir had a busy day ahead of her.
By the time she reached the king and queen’s small audience chamber, Captain Varyn and Commander Uri were just finishing their report. Meg slipped quietly through the door and closed it behind her, then sat in the chair beside her mother. The queen gave her a quick, worried almost-smile, then turned back to listen. But she reached over and took Meg’s hand as she did so. A second later, the door opened again, and Mage Serek came through.
“Ah, good,” said King Tormon. “We can update you and Princess Meglynne at the same time.”
Serek nodded and took a seat. He and Meg had maintained a civil (if not exactly friendly) relationship since that first night in his study. She still didn’t think Serek truly believed in Calen the way he should, but he was trying to bring Calen home, and maybe that was all that mattered. Meg had been visiting Serek and Anders every evening to help with the bird spells, watching them send more and more crows out into the night sky. None of them had returned yet, but Anders assured her it was too soon to worry about that. She hoped he was right.
“The short version,” the commander said, “is that Lourin forces have blocked the pass from Kragnir. King Ryllin has apparently been trying to get a message to us for days; this is the only one that’s gotten through.”
Meg’s stomach tightened in worry. This was bad. They needed those reinforcements!
“How —?” Serek started, but Captain Varyn broke in, seeming to know what he was asking.
“A Kragnir scout managed to climb down from the mountains off the main road. He circled around, stole a horse, and rode south with Lourin soldiers chasing him the whole way. He ran straight into Captain Halse’s company and was able to deliver the message just before the Lourin soldiers caught up. Luckily, Halse has a good head on his shoulders and sent men back to the castle with the news while the rest of them stayed to fight. Otherwise, we still might not know.”
“We’re discussing possible courses of action,” the commander continued. “We don’t exactly have men to spare with the fighting here as bad as it’s been, but we can’t hold out much longer on our own. We need Kragnir, and soon.”
There were other kingdoms, of course, but they were either too small to be able to help or too far away, or both — like Prolua, where Meg’s eldest sister, Morgan, had gone to live when she married the prince there. They’d received letters from her and from the royal family she was now a part of, expressing sympathy and concern, but Prolua’s lands were very tiny and very far, and they barely had an army at all. Kragnir was the only ally Trelian had who was close enough and strong enough to make a difference. And now they weren’t coming.
Stop it, Meg told herself firmly. They will figure something out.
But they didn’t. The discussion went on and on, without any clear progress toward a solution. Meg tried to sit quietly and listen; she knew full well that the others were far more experienced in war than she was.
But she had never been very good at sitting quietly.
“Father,” she interjected finally, when she couldn’t take one more round of here are all the things we cannot do, “perhaps it’s time for Jakl and me to fly out with the rest of the company? Surely the seriousness of this current crisis —”
“We appreciate your willingness to help,” he said, “but we are not yet at that point.”
Judging from their faces, Commander Uri and Captain Varyn didn’t entirely agree. But they didn’t speak up to support her, either.
“But —”
Her mother squeezed her hand. “Meg, please,” she said. “You need to be patient. When the time comes, I’m sure —”
“The time has come!” Meg said, pulling her hand away. She was speaking too loudly, letting too much emotion show, but this was infuriating. “What are we waiting for? What’s the point of having me train to fight if you’re never going to let me do anything?”
“I am not putting you in danger unnecessarily,” her father said. “There may still be a way —”
“I’m already in danger,” Meg countered. “We’re all i
n danger! We’re losing this war, if you haven’t noticed! You promised you would let us help. Was that just — just a lie? To placate me? Jakl and I are ready; you can ask the captain —”
“That’s enough!” the king shouted. “If you cannot hold your tongue and your temper, then I suggest you remove yourself from this room.”
Meg stood up. “I suppose I’d better do just that, then,” she said coldly. “Because I can’t continue to sit here and listen to you make excuses for why you won’t do what obviously needs to be done.”
“Meg!” the queen said, clearly scandalized that Meg would speak that way to the king in front of the commander, the captain, and the mage.
Meg turned on her heel before she could say anything worse, and stormed out.
Stupid, she thought at herself angrily as she stomped her way down the hall. They would never listen to her if she couldn’t stay calm and speak in reasonable tones. She knew that. But she couldn’t help it when they were being so stubborn and foolish!
Jakl was stirring, feeling her anger, and she had to send him the now-familiar shorthand stupid human stuff through the link before he would relax again. The dragon had learned that Meg sometimes got angry or upset when she wasn’t actually in immediate danger, but he couldn’t always tell on his own when that was the case. There wasn’t anything he could do right now to help her. She just had to calm down.
Knowing exactly how bad everything was getting but not being able to do anything about it was maddening. And it just kept getting worse. Pela, who had suffered through many of Meg’s previous rants on the subject of how she and Jakl weren’t being allowed to help, also insisted that Meg had to be patient. But how could you be patient when your best friend was gods-knew-where doing gods-knew-what, and soldiers were fighting and dying in a ridiculous war over nothing, and —
No. This wasn’t going to help her regain control. She was going to not think. Just for a little while. She would find a place to sit and be calm and not think about all of those things.
She paused at the outer door, considering, then headed toward the gardens. She hunted down the most isolated corner she could find and fought the urge to pace angrily around on the grass. Instead she made herself settle down under a tree and close her eyes. Right now all she needed was quiet. Just some quiet. Just some time to not think or worry or be upset or scared or angry.
The Mage of Trelian Page 5
