“Serek? I don’t —”
“Don’t use that face-melting spell,” Serek said under his breath. “But come at me full strength. Maybe we do need to wake these people up a little.”
They moved into the center of the room. Calen started with a fairly basic lightning spell. Serek blocked it effortlessly and raised an eyebrow at him.
All right, then. Calen started again, this time sending a double-edged shock spell that flew out from both hands simultaneously and came at Serek from two different directions. Serek still blocked them, but he nodded at Calen encouragingly. Better. Keep going.
Calen kept going. Serek began firing spells back at him. They circled each other, throwing spells and blocking and deflecting and shielding. Neither of them landed anything on the other, but everyone could feel the intensity of the magic energy, and they were all watching with full attention. After a while, Serek gestured to Anders, and then Calen was fighting both of them.
And holding his own.
Of course, he had the early-colors advantage, but he and Serek and Anders had agreed that that should probably stay a secret among just themselves, at least for the time being. And if it gave the others the idea that all Krelig’s mages would be just as fast . . . well, so much the better.
The others watched, all scornfulness and mistrust gone at this point. They were finally starting to see how Krelig had trained — was still training — his mages. Calen kept going, even when Serek brought another mage, and then another, into the circle to face him. It wasn’t until there were five of them that they finally began to get past his defenses. Even seeing the colors, even seeing them early, it was hard to keep track of what all five of them were doing at the same time. Serek finally hit him with a painful but brief spell that slammed him back against the wall and onto the floor.
“Enough,” Serek said, holding up a hand to stop the other mages, some of whom had seemed more than ready to continue casting things at Calen while he was down. They were all breathing hard, but they were also all very aware of the fact that it had been five against one. And that Calen had held out for a very long time.
“If every one of Krelig’s recruits is able to take on five of us at once, we’re in for a very difficult time out there,” Serek said. “We need to improve quickly. You must not underestimate your opponents in this battle. Krelig is the most dangerous by far, but the rest of his mages are apt to be a great deal more powerful than when they first left to join him.”
The truth of this finally seemed to be getting through to the others. Serek set them back to work and then asked Calen and Anders to follow him out. The other mages were going at each other a bit more seriously by the time they left. Calen was cautiously hopeful. It wasn’t enough, not yet, but at least it was a start.
On the way back toward Serek’s study, Anders let Serek get ahead and then leaned in close to Calen.
“You never did come at us with your full strength, though, did you?” he asked.
Calen looked at him for a long moment. “No,” he said. He hadn’t even come close. He had eventually started to get tired, and the others had finally bested him by just giving him too much to focus on at once, but not one of his spells had been as strong as he could have made it.
Anders nodded, having clearly already figured this out. “That’s . . . probably for the best. Our little group is small enough, eh? Better not to accidentally kill off anyone from our own side if you can help it.” He patted Calen encouragingly on the shoulder and jogged ahead to catch up with Serek.
As soon as they arrived, Anders went over to check on his remaining crow.
“Why are you still keeping that one?” Calen asked. “We don’t need them anymore.”
“George smacked his wing into the edge of the window his first time out and has been recovering ever since,” Anders said, reaching into the cage and gently bringing the bird out onto the counter. The bird quorked familiarly at Anders, looked briefly at Calen, then started pecking at some of the seed Anders had spread on the countertop. “He’s not too bright, this one,” Anders added.
“Or,” Serek put in from across the room, “he’s a genius, and figured out that if he stays here nursing his injury, you’ll take care of his every need and feed him until he’s too fat to fly anyway.”
“Hmm,” Anders said. He looked back at the bird, eyes narrowed slightly.
“Calen,” Serek said. Calen turned and was surprised to see his master holding the deck of spirit cards from his desk drawer. “Are you up to trying a reading?”
“Sure,” Calen said. He’d always liked working with the cards. He went over to join Serek at the table. “It’s been a while, but I think it will come back to me.”
Now Serek looked surprised. “Didn’t Krelig have you doing divination for him?”
“No,” Calen said. “It was forbidden, actually. He said he’d already seen what he needed to see and didn’t need anyone else’s interference. I think he was afraid of anyone seeing something less favorable than the sightings he had while he was still exiled. He told me once that he hadn’t had another vision since he’d been back.”
“You didn’t try on your own?” Anders asked, coming over to join them. “You’ve certainly done things that were forbidden before.”
Calen flushed a little at that and decided not to glance at Serek just then. “I was afraid he’d know,” Calen said. “He often seemed to know things — where you’d been, what you’d been doing. Not always, obviously, or he would have discovered the bird plan much sooner. But I only worked with the birds out on the balcony, which I think helped hide it from him, at least a little. I suppose I could have tried some divination out there, something simple with stones, maybe, something I could find on my own, but it seemed like too much of a risk. It was . . . never good to make Krelig angry.” He reached up to touch his ear before he could stop himself.
“Well,” Serek said, “I think it’s worth trying now. Especially with this new development in how you see the colors, which could very well be related to your skills at divination. Of course, you know that it’s not always reliable, or accurate. . . .”
“I remember,” Calen said, fighting a smile. Same old Serek.
“All right,” Serek began. “Let’s —”
He was cut off by a sudden bloodcurdling scream from the yard outside.
They all whipped their heads around to stare toward the sound.
“That’s Maurel,” Calen said. He was out of his chair and running for the door before the words were out of his mouth. The mages followed a step behind.
All kinds of terrible images flashed through his mind of what might be causing her to scream like that, but as he burst through the door, he saw nothing. No slaarh, no Krelig, no enemy mages, no attackers, magical or otherwise. Maurel was there, but she was just standing still, looking down at something in the grass.
“Maurel!” he cried, running over to her. “Are you all right? What happened?”
She looked up at him, then pointed. “That bird,” she said. “It just — it fell right out of the sky. Right in front of me. It almost hit me! And it’s —”
“Is it dead?” Anders asked, coming up beside them with Serek.
She shook her head, starting to cry. “No.”
Calen bent down to look at it. She was right; it was writhing in apparent pain, making terrible little mewling sounds. He concentrated and saw traces of magic around it. Black and red.
“Someone did this to it,” Calen said, straightening. “A mage. Who would —?”
Before anyone could answer, they heard another person scream somewhere nearby.
And then another bird fell from the sky right beside them, screaming as well.
They looked up.
There were more, everywhere — as though every bird in the kingdom had suddenly lost the ability to fly. They could see dark, sinking clouds where whole flocks were falling together.
“Inside,” Serek said at once.
Calen grabbed Ma
urel’s hand and started to run for the door, but she pulled away from him.
“Lyrimon!” she cried.
“He can take care of himself!” Calen said, trying to recapture her hand.
“Not if a bird falls on his head!”
“I’ve got him,” Serek said. “Go inside, Princess.”
Maurel turned to see whether he was telling the truth; so did Calen. He was — the wretched gyrcat was squirming unhappily in his arms, fading in and out of visibility. But even when you couldn’t see him, he was still there; he couldn’t escape from Serek that way. Good. This time when Calen reached for Maurel’s hand, she let him take it. They ran back toward the door, dodging more falling birds. Calen had to knock one away that almost landed on Maurel.
And then they were through, and safe. Anders pushed past them to run to where he’d left George. George seemed all right, at least so far. He wasn’t writhing and screaming and dying, in any case. He seemed to still be pecking away at his food, unaware of anything else.
“Why is that happening?” Maurel demanded, her voice hovering somewhere between a shout and a whimper.
“I don’t know,” Calen said. But was that true? Certainly he could guess who was responsible.
They stood at the window, looking out. There were dead and dying birds everywhere. All kinds of birds — crows, finches, hawks, many that Calen couldn’t even identify. More were still falling.
The door to the study banged open, and one of the king’s guards came in. “Mages,” he said, respectfully but urgently, “your presence is requested by His Majesty King Tormon.”
“I’m sure it is,” Anders said, stroking George’s head.
“Why is that bird still okay?” Maurel asked, pointing at George.
“That’s an excellent question, Your Highness,” Anders said. “Maybe the spell just hasn’t reached him yet.” He concentrated, and Calen saw him cast a surprisingly thorough protection spell around the bird. Anders actually blushed when he saw Calen staring. “I’m not taking any chances!” he said, somewhat defensively.
“No judgments here,” Calen said. “George might be a genius, after all.”
“Well, now that he’s safe, lock him back up and come with me,” Serek said, heading for the door. “You, too, Calen. And you, of course, Princess.”
The guard led them up to one of the royal meeting rooms. The king and queen were there, as were Meg and Captain Naithe. The other mages must still be training in the hall, Calen realized. There weren’t any windows down there. They probably had no idea what was happening. Even if they sensed some of the magic at work, they would likely just assume it was coming from the other mages practicing around them.
There was a window here, though, a big one, and everyone was gathered around it. The falling birds seemed to be fewer now. Meg turned when she noticed they’d arrived.
“Oh, Calen,” she said. “What is going on?”
He just shook his head and came to stand beside her at the window. Maurel squirmed away from him and ran to her mother. He and Meg had never really talked about that awkward moment after the dungeons, but he thought that was probably for the best. Things felt almost back to normal between them, as much as could be judged by the little time they got to spend together, anyway. He was busy with the mages nearly all the time, and she was busy training with the soldiers. The other soldiers, he thought proudly. He worried about her sometimes, but not very much. The Kragnir forces had all arrived, and they were helping to hold back the enemy until Trelian was ready to make a full, concentrated, and, it was hoped, final attack, using all of their combined strength. That’s when he’d worry, when she went back out to fight for real.
He glanced at her and found her looking back. He thought they both knew and accepted that “almost back to normal” wasn’t the same thing as “just like they’d been before.” Too much was different for that. But not everything.
Not what mattered most.
“Do you have any information you can offer us?” King Tormon asked Mage Serek, jerking Calen’s attention back to the present.
“Not very much,” Serek admitted. “We know there is magic behind this, although you certainly must have guessed that already. I cannot imagine that any of the mages here would do such a thing. . . .”
“It’s Krelig,” Calen said softly. “It has to be. Who else?”
“But why?” asked the queen.
“To punish me,” Calen said. “Serek and Anders and I used birds to communicate, Your Majesty. When I was . . . when I was with Mage Krelig. To plan my escape. He found out, right at the end.”
“So he kills all the birds in the whole kingdom?” the commander asked doubtfully.
Calen smiled a small, humorless smile. “He’s not exactly a sane man, sir.”
“What can we do?” the king asked.
Serek shook his head. “I don’t think there’s anything to be done now, Sire. Except to wait it out. Eventually he’ll, ah, run out of birds.”
They continued to watch at the window. Just when it seemed the last of the birds must have finally fallen to the ground, there was a painful screeching sound that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. Meg gasped and pointed at the sky.
There were words there. Enormous words, written in fiery red across the heavens. They said: YOU WILL ALL DIE.
“I rather thought he’d already made that point,” said Anders. “Seems a bit overdone, really, to explain the message after the fact.”
The king pointed at the flaming letters. “Can you get those out of the sky?”
“Ah,” Anders said. “Yes. That we can probably do.”
“But what does it mean?” the queen asked. “Is he coming here? I thought he was planning his war against the Magistratum.”
My fault, Calen thought. He’s coming here because of me.
“I’m afraid our presence has made you a more immediate target than you might have been,” Serek said. “Krelig knows that the strongest force against him will be here. We’d thought that he would go after the Magistratum itself first, but now that we’ve openly declared our position against him, he must have decided to attack the mages gathered here before going after the rest of our order.” He hesitated, then added, “And he’s coming for Calen as well.”
Meg grabbed Calen’s hand. “Don’t you even think it,” she said, guessing the direction of his thoughts. “You had to come back, and we need you here. He was going to come for us anyway, eventually. At least with you here, we have a chance.”
He tried to believe her. She was right — he knew she was — but he kept looking at those flaming letters, knowing that if he hadn’t run, if he hadn’t come back, Krelig might not be focusing his attention here like this. At least not so soon.
“We knew this was a risk,” King Tormon said. “And Mage Krelig dragged us into his war long ago. Long ago, if he was truly behind Trelian’s war with Kragnir as well as our current battle with Lourin. We’ll just need to be ready for him when he comes.”
“We’ll see to clearing your skies, Sire,” Serek said. “In the meantime, I would suggest that everyone stay inside. Don’t touch the birds until we know exactly what’s killed them.” He beckoned to Anders and Calen. Calen guessed they were going to get the other mages to help. Captain Naithe began giving his guards directions to spread the word about staying indoors.
“See you later,” Calen whispered to Meg. She gave him a pointed look; Calen could interpret it easily enough: Don’t do anything stupid. He nodded obediently and followed Serek out.
As they walked quickly down the hallway, Calen trotted up to where Serek was striding ahead of him. “This means he’s coming very soon, doesn’t it?” Calen asked.
“Yes,” Serek said. “I believe it does.”
“Do you think we’ll really be ready?”
Serek didn’t stop walking. “We’ll have to be.”
That night, Serek brought out the spirit cards again.
They’d spent the early evening working w
ith the other mages to clear Krelig’s threatening message from the sky and then to deal with the birds. They hadn’t been killed by disease or anything that seemed likely to spread to humans. But once the sun went down, some of the dead birds had . . . woken up. Sort of. They were still dead, but they started flying around again. Flying around and attacking people. Luckily, most people were still inside, waiting for the all clear from the guards, but some of the dead birds had flown in through open windows. It had taken all the mages working together to remove whatever lingering magic was animating them. It had been . . . disturbing. Meg had told Calen that she thought Maurel would have nightmares for a month. Calen thought he might have a few nightmares of his own. At one point he’d come around a corner to find a pair of ravens attacking a screaming kitchen boy. The birds had turned their heads impossibly far around to look at Calen when he appeared. Their eyes were milky-white and empty, and their beaks were red with blood. They flew at him, shockingly fast for blind, dead, broken things, and Calen had screamed himself before incinerating them to ashes in midair. He had accidentally incinerated one of the hanging tapestries on the wall as well, and a candle fixture on the ceiling. But he’d avoided incinerating the kitchen boy, and was able to heal him up and send him to the infirmary with a quiet word to maybe not mention anything to anyone about the tapestry.
Once the birds were finally taken care of — for good this time, they all sincerely hoped — Serek and Anders and Calen returned to Serek’s study, exhausted but too shaken up to consider sleep.
They tried every card pattern variation Serek knew, and then every one that Anders knew that Serek didn’t. Calen even tried making one up on the spot, just to see what would happen.
The readings were uniformly dark and upsetting. Combinations of images that meant death, and war, and pain, and destruction. Warnings of terrible consequences if they didn’t do something, but no clear indication of what that something might be.
And every time, every single time, the final card was always the spinning coin. The card that meant there were too many forces in play, too many possible outcomes for the cards to give them any reliable sense of what the future held.
The Mage of Trelian Page 21
