The Mage of Trelian

by Michelle Knudsen

  Meg tried to clear her mind and focus on the feel of the tree behind her and the grass beneath her. She concentrated on her breathing, taking long slow breaths in the way Calen had taught her when she had first been struggling to manage the way the link with the dragon amplified her emotions. She breathed and tried not to think about how much she wished Calen were here beside her right now.

  A sound very close by broke into her awareness, and her eyes flew open. For one confused moment her heart leaped upward and she thought, Calen? But no, of course it wasn’t.

  The boy in front of her was older, and taller, with lighter hair and strikingly handsome features. Nearly blindingly handsome. It used to enrage her, how handsome he was. Now it was merely . . . irritating.

  “Hello, Wilem,” she said.

  “I’m sorry to have disturbed you,” he said. “I didn’t realize you were here.”

  She looked around at the secluded corner of the garden. It was a cul-de-sac at the end of a tree-lined passage enclosed by a stone wall — he couldn’t have been passing through on his way to anywhere else.

  “Where were you going?” she asked.

  He smiled slightly and pointed at where she was sitting. “Right there, actually. I come here to think sometimes. I didn’t realize you did the same.”

  She smiled back, despite herself. “It’s my first time.”

  “I’ll leave you to your thoughts, then.” He turned to go.

  “No,” she said before she could think better of it. She suddenly didn’t want to sit here alone. “It was your spot before it was mine. And I wasn’t succeeding very well at thinking, anyway. Or not-thinking, which was really what I was trying for. You might as well stay.”

  He hesitated, then nodded. “Very well, if you wish.” He eased himself slowly to the ground. Very slowly. Meg suddenly noticed the bandages on his arm. He was clearly favoring one leg as well.

  “What happened?” she asked, sitting up straighter. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes,” he said, shifting his leg out carefully on the ground. “Just a little roughed up. My company was attacked earlier.”

  “Are you in Captain Halse’s company?”

  He blinked. “How did you —? Oh, of course you would have heard what happened. Yes.”

  “Shouldn’t you be in the infirmary?”

  “They patched me up and sent me on my way,” he said. “I’m fine, really. Not like some of the others. We were lucky that the group from Lourin was a small one. And we surprised them more than they surprised us.”

  Meg had known that Wilem had joined the Trelian soldiers — was a Trelian soldier now, she supposed — but as he wasn’t in her own company, she didn’t know very much about what he did or where. There were a lot of other things she wanted to ask about what had happened, but she didn’t ask them. Like her, Wilem had obviously come here looking for solitude, not someone to pester him with questions.

  He leaned back against the stone wall, and they were quiet for a time. His presence didn’t exactly help her to not-think, but at least he was a distraction from her other concerns.

  Wilem’s situation had changed a great deal since he was first taken in as a prisoner. He was permitted to move freely about the castle grounds and no longer had guards placed at his door, although Meg knew they all still kept an eye on him, out of habit if nothing else. Her parents had decided that he’d earned these additional freedoms through his efforts to help rescue Maurel from his mother and his request to join the soldiers who were fighting to protect the kingdom from Lourin and its allies. He wasn’t exactly not a prisoner, but he’d reached some strange in-between status that everyone had just slowly begun to accept and eventually take for granted. He didn’t seem to mind not being able to leave. And really, Meg wasn’t sure where he would go if he could — his mother was dead, and she had been his only remaining family. He’d grown up in Kragnir and probably had friends there, or former friends, but he might not be welcome back there after what he and Sen Eva had done. He’d betrayed Kragnir as well as Trelian, after all. At least here, a lot of people knew what he’d done to try to atone for his crimes, and some had seen firsthand his realization that his mother had deceived him in order to gain his cooperation. They’d also seen his subsequent voluntary surrender.

  Perhaps someday, if he were permitted, he’d prefer to go somewhere where no one knew him or his past at all.

  Meg was still trying to sort out how she felt about him. She’d gone from swooning over him like an idiot to hating him for his betrayal to . . . wherever she was now. She didn’t think she could quite say she’d forgiven him — could you ever forgive someone for plotting to kill your sister, whatever he thought his reasons were? — but his actions since then had been consistently selfless and admirable. He’d been willing to sacrifice himself to save Maurel, and now he was actively helping in the fight against Lourin. She no longer suspected that he was waiting to turn on them again.

  Not-hate. That’s what she was feeling, she decided. At least, that was the part of what she was feeling that she could be certain of.

  “How is your not-thinking going?” he asked after a while.

  “Still not very well, I’m afraid.” She paused, then added, “And it’s probably not what I should be doing, anyway. Not-thinking, I mean. But I was tired of trying to think and failing at that, too. It is very frustrating to realize that some problems cannot be solved by thinking. That no matter how much you think about them, you cannot . . .” She trailed off, shaking her head.

  After a moment, Wilem said, “I think some problems are too big for any of us to solve on our own. But I also believe that we must —”

  “Please don’t say that we must be patient. I cannot bear to hear that one more time.”

  He smiled. “I was going to say that we must be hopeful. The one sure way to fail is to let ourselves lose hope.”

  “Oh.” Meg thought about that for a bit. “I suppose that’s very true. Although not always easy.”

  “No,” Wilem agreed.

  “And I wish being hopeful didn’t necessarily involve so much waiting!”

  “Have you — have you had any word from Calen?”

  “No. We don’t know where he is. And if he’s tried to contact us, he hasn’t succeeded.”

  “I know that I don’t know him very well, but from everything I’ve seen — I believe he’ll find a way. He seems very resourceful. And determined.”

  “He’s an idiot, is what he is,” Meg said.

  “I’m sure he had his reasons. . . .”

  “I’m sure his reasons were not nearly good enough for the choice he made.”

  Wilem took a minute before replying. “Sometimes there are no good choices. Sometimes you can only make the least terrible choice available to you.”

  “Hmm.” Meg supposed that might be so. But she didn’t care. He still should have made some other choice. He should at the very least have told her what he was doing, and why. And he should have found a way to come home by now.

  Suddenly she couldn’t bear sitting still anymore. She got to her feet. Wilem started to do the same, but she waved him back down. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re injured; you don’t need to stand up. I believe I’ve done all the not-thinking I can for the time being.” She started to walk away, then stopped and turned back. “Thank you for — for what you said.”

  He looked up at her, his gaze steady and serious on her own. “If any of my words brought you comfort, Princess, then I am glad.”

  Meg nodded at him, not sure what else to say, and headed back along the path toward the castle.

  It wasn’t yet her usual time to visit the mages, and she knew that Serek and Anders were almost certainly busy working out ways to try to contact Kragnir by now, but Meg went to see them anyway. She needed to feel like she was doing something. Maybe she could help somehow. As she walked down the corridor toward Serek’s study, she met some of the visiting mages coming the other way. She recognized them as the first group w
ho had arrived at the castle, although there had been several others since. These men had been here for many weeks now, but kept very much to themselves — she still didn’t know any of their names. They nodded politely at her but did not stop as they passed. Meg’s parents had invited them to stay at the castle as long as they wished, as they tried to figure out what to do to solve their own problems regarding the divisions within the Magistratum. From what little Meg knew, the other mages wanted Serek to lead some sort of resistance, a group separate from the Magistratum proper to fight Mage Krelig and perhaps form some new governmental structure within their organization. Serek did not seem to want any part of this.

  Meg was glad; her parents needed him here, to help Trelian, and she needed him working to find Calen. She knew that the situation with the Magistratum was very serious — Calen had told her that much before he left — but she didn’t see why Serek had to be the one to solve it. There had to be at least twenty other mages here now. Let them be the ones to do whatever needed to be done.

  She reached the study door and knocked. It promptly swung open, revealing Anders on the other side.

  “Good afternoon, Princess,” he said. “Come in, come in!”

  Meg stepped forward, but before Anders could close the door again, they heard a voice call, “Wait!” from back the way Meg had come. Meg turned to see Maurel hurrying awkwardly down the hall toward them. After a second, Meg realized why Maurel was lumbering so strangely — she had Mage Serek’s enormous gyrcat in her arms. She was holding the poor animal under its front legs with her hands clasped around its chest, its lower body and hind legs dangling without support.

  “Maurel, what are you —?”

  Meg broke off as Maurel pushed past, walking right up to where Serek was seated at his desk.

  “I’m sorry,” Maurel said, depositing the creature unceremoniously on top of a pile of papers. “He keeps doing it.”

  “Doing what?” Meg asked, completely mystified.

  Serek looked like he was trying not to look amused. “Lyrimon has apparently developed a particular affection for your sister.”

  Maurel turned to Meg, half-embarrassed, half-defiant. “I keep finding him in my bed! He turns his colors off and blends in and I don’t even know he’s there until I feel something furry against my ankles. It’s not my fault. I’m not trying to steal him, I swear.”

  “I don’t think anyone would ever accuse you of that,” Meg said. “Who would want to steal that cranky thing?”

  Maurel frowned. “He’s not a cranky thing! He’s a good kitty. He just . . . he just needs to stay in his own home.” She turned back to Lyrimon and gave him a gentle pat on the head, then pointed at him. “Stay!” she said firmly. Then she marched out.

  Lyrimon promptly jumped down from the desk and started to follow her. Anders closed the door before he could.

  “Sorry, my furry friend. The little princess said stay. So stay you must.”

  Lyrimon looked at Anders and growled ominously. Then he vanished.

  Meg stared. “Where — where did he go?” Calen had told her the gyrcat could do that, but she thought he’d been exaggerating.

  “Oh, he’s still there,” Serek said absently. “You just can’t see him.”

  Somehow that wasn’t very comforting. Meg found a chair and sat cross-legged upon it, tucking her dress around her knees and ankles.

  “So,” Anders said, walking over to sit across from her. “What brings you here at this hour, Your Highness?”

  “Is it too early to send another bird?” she asked. “I can’t bear all the waiting.”

  “It’s better after dark,” Anders said. “More dramatic.”

  Meg looked at him, uncertain as to whether he was joking. It was never easy to tell with him. She waited for Serek to jump in with a sardonic comment, but before he could, the door banged open again. Meg thought she caught a glimpse of a half-visible cat-shape rushing out as the mages she’d passed in the hallway earlier crowded back in.

  “Serek,” the one in front said, “it’s started. Mages have begun leaving the Magistratum to join Mage Krelig.”

  Serek had gotten to his feet as soon as they had entered. “How many?”

  “Maybe only a handful, for certain. So far. But you know there were some only waiting for someone else to be the first.”

  Serek nodded grimly. Anders leaned forward toward Meg. “You’d best be on your way, Princess. This will be Magistratum business, and nothing you need to hear.”

  Meg wouldn’t have minded staying; even listening to bad news about the Magistratum seemed preferable to having to go back to waiting around and doing nothing. But she knew they wouldn’t let her stay. Best to leave now, before Serek threw her out less gently than Anders was attempting to do.

  “All right,” she said, rising. “I’ll come back later.”

  Anders glanced at the other mages, then back at her. “I don’t think we’ll be sending a crow tonight, I’m afraid. We’ll try again tomorrow evening.”

  Meg felt frustration swelling inside her but managed not to say anything she might regret. At least Anders was honest with her. And there were so many crows out there already. . . . Surely skipping one night couldn’t make much difference. She just wanted to be doing everything they could, every second. But she knew there were other important things going on, too.

  She left, closing the door behind her. She didn’t really need to think about where to go next. Jakl was the only one who could make her feel any better now.

  Meg felt him become aware that she was coming and couldn’t help smiling as she felt his pure, uncomplicated happiness in response. She caught herself walking more quickly, then gave in and ran the rest of the way.

  The dragon was sitting up alertly, waiting for her. As always, seeing him brought a surge of joy and pride and awe. She knew what he looked like, of course, and she could always feel him through the link, but being with him in person amplified everything — she always felt slightly more alive, slightly more there, when she was with him. And he was so beautiful! She thought he’d just about reached his full size, and he towered over her, wings folded tightly behind him, green scales glinting in the afternoon sun.

  Beautiful, she felt him send at her proudly through the link, and she laughed.

  The occasional words still caught her off-guard a lot of the time. She didn’t think he was really speaking in the way a person would speak, though. The words came, as far as she could explain it to herself, in little packages of emotions that meant the same things as what the words represented, and she could understand those meanings and interpret them as words. Or something like that, anyway. She guessed it didn’t really matter exactly how it worked. He seemed to pick up on certain words or phrases she used often or that she felt particularly strongly about. And especially ones having to do with him. He was ridiculously vain, she’d discovered. Although perhaps that was her own fault, for admiring him so much.

  “Yes, beautiful,” she said out loud, closing the last of the distance between them and sitting down at his feet. He sank down around her, repositioning himself fluidly to support her back and curl into the smallest circle he could manage, which wasn’t all that small. “And enormous. When did you get so big? I remember when you were barely bigger than Lyrimon.”

  That made him send back a strange blend of embarrassment and contempt for his former tiny size, which made her laugh again.

  “All right,” she said. “I’ll try to keep in mind how gigantic and strong and fierce you are now.” And he was all those things, of course. But also capable of astounding gentleness when he chose. And filled with love for her, which always made her feel safe and protected and just . . . really, really good.

  Even now, when everything else was so very much not good.

  “Oh, Jakl,” she said, her smile fading. “I wish none of this were happening.”

  He nudged his head even closer, putting the tip of his snout in her lap. She laid her head down against him and closed
her eyes, letting herself be comforted as much as she could. It would all get sorted out somehow. It had to. They’d end the war and get Calen back and stop Mage Krelig from doing all the evil, terrible things he was planning to do, and everything could go back to normal. Whatever that meant. She was having a hard time remembering.

  She stayed there for the rest of the afternoon and into early evening. The sun was just starting to disappear into the horizon when Jakl raised his head abruptly at the same moment Meg felt his alarm through the link.

  “What is it? Is someone —?”

  He uncurled himself and leaped to his feet just as she heard the shouts and screams begin. But it wasn’t until the sky grew bright with flaming arrows that she understood.

  They were under attack.

  THE SHOCK WAS SO GREAT THAT Calen nearly fainted. Or maybe he did faint. The world had seemed to go away for a few seconds — his vision went gray and then white, and then he was sitting on the balcony floor, staring at the bird, who had jumped down from the railing to stand in front of him.

  His first thought when his wits returned was that he must have truly gone crazy at last.

  But he didn’t feel crazy. He felt . . . he felt . . .

  Oh, gods. Thank the gods. Meg hadn’t given up on him. She was trying to find him.

  She was still his friend.

  The bird hopped impatiently before him. “Calen,” it said again. Meg said. Through the bird. How was she doing that?

  She couldn’t be doing that. Not on her own. Which meant that Serek hadn’t given up on him, either.

  His relief was so enormous that he had to fight an insane urge to grab the bird and kiss its ugly, feathery head. And then he had to bite his fist to keep from laughing. At himself, at the bird, at everything. Oh, gods.