"I don't know."
"But you fear it?"
"I fear we have harbored serpents in our midst without knowing it."
"You can't believe the twins are evil, Jonathan." Her arms tightened around him. "You can't."
"I don't know what I believe anymore, Tereza. If you had told me two days ago that I would allow a wizard within my home …" He let the thought trail off.
She softly kissed the back of his neck. "You were very brave to allow Gersalius inside."
"I cannot let Elaine die because of my prejudices. That would be evil all its own."
Tereza turned him away from the window to face her and the warm, familiar room. "You are a good man, Jonathan Ambrose."
"Am I? If Elaine is not evil, then what of the other mages I have destroyed over the years? Were some of them good? Has my own conceit murdered the innocent?"
She gripped his arms tightly. "No, it is not just magic that earns them death. It is evil magic. In all the years I have been with you, I have never seen you persecute someone that had not committed some terrible evil."
"I wish I could be certain of that."
"In Cortton, someone has conjured up a plague that has killed half the village. The dead walk the street, preying on the living. That is evil, Jonathan, and only one man can stop it. The mage-finder. You will hunt down this rogue magic-user and see that he is stopped." She stood just an inch or two taller than he, her face earnest, eyes searching his.
"Will Gersalius come with us to persecute one of his own?"
"If Gersalius will not aid us against a necromancer, he is the wrong wizard to be tutoring Elaine." She seemed to think of something that made her smile. "If the wizard agrees to come, surely that is proof that even a mage does not approve of murder and raising the dead."
He knew she meant it to be comforting. If Gersalius agreed that it was evil, he was probably not evil, and if a mage approved of the mage-finder, Jonathan was not wrong to hunt them. But what if Gersalius only went along to spy for the other wizard? What if he used his power over Elaine to corrupt them all? And what was he, Jonathan, thinking to give the mage power over Blaine, too? But if Blaine had magic, wasn't he in danger of its emerging at odd moments? Wasn't Blaine in as much danger as Elaine?
Jonathan shook his head. Tereza hugged him, pressing her strong arms tightly across his back, trying to comfort. He clung to her, taking the warmth offered, but he was not comforted. Too many doubts had been raised. Too many things he had been certain of were now as fragile as thin ice.
He was the mage-finder, but now, for the first time, he wondered if he was also a murderer. Tonight, and for many nights to come, he would be reliving past events. He would be searching for evil in the people he had helped destroy. He would go over every job, to see if the magician had been truly evil, or just misguided, to see if there had been a way short of killing them, or causing others to slay them.
Just a few short weeks ago, if Tereza had told him of someone else doing what Elaine had done in the shed, someone showing that much uncontrollable magic, he would have had her imprisoned, tried to see if she were a danger to others. And he would never have allowed another mage near her, to aid her, to teach her.
Jonathan clung to his wife, breathing in the scent of her skin, the warmth of her body. He clung to her like a drowning man. Quilt began to eat at his mind, feeding the doubts. Guilt and doubt; they were two things the mage-finder had never dreamt of, until now.
EIGHT
The snow grew deeper the closer to Cortton they rode. The horses slogged through drifts that dragged against their bellies. The gentle mare Elaine usually rode was safe at home in its stall, too old, too fat, too slow. In its place, a slender brown horse capered through the deep snow, or as close to capered as it could. Elaine was glad of the snow. It would make a fall a little softer.
She hadn't fallen yet, but she clung to the saddle horn with both hands, reins laced through her gloved hands. There was a look in the young horse's eye that was almost laughter, and Elaine was sure she was the butt of the equine joke.
Blaine drew up beside her, one hand on his reins, the other free to gesture. "Isn't it beautiful?"
His gesture pointed at everything. Ice clung to every tree limb. Every bush was an ice sculpture with bones of black wood. Bright sunlight dazzled the eye, sparkling and dancing from every twig. Elaine squinted against the brightness. There was nothing but light and brightness and a harsh beauty as far as she could see.
She stared into her brother's smiling face. "It is pretty."
The smile faded. "What's wrong?"
Her horse nipped at Elaine's knee. He avoided the snapping teeth without seeming to think about it. She sighed, breath fogging, joining the ice crystals already clinging to the fur of her hood. "Nothing."
He cocked his head to one side, hood sliding backward. His yellow hair was almost as bright as the sun-kissed ice. "Elaine, something's wrong. What is it?"
"This horse."
He prodded its hip with his foot. The horse gave a little jump. Elaine made a very unladylike squeak. "Blaine Claim! What the blazes do you think you're doing?"
He looked instantly contrite, worried, sorry. "You're really afraid of the horse, aren't you?"
"Yes."
Blaine, who had never been afraid of an animal in his entire life, touched her shoulder with his mittened hand. "The horse doesn't mean any harm. It's just young and full of vinegar."
"If it were full of vinegar, it'd be a pickle," she snapped.
He let his hand drop back under his cloak. "I'm sorry I scared your horse, Elaine. I wouldn't have done it if I'd known it'd bother you like this."
She shook her head, the fur of her hood sliding against her face. An ice crystal scratched her cheek, a sharp bite. She touched the spot with her fingertips. A spot of blood showed on her gloves. She was suddenly unaccountably angry, as if it were Elaine's fault, though she knew it wasn't. It was a small cut, so why was she furious? Something was wrong.
"Get Gersalius."
"Why?"
"Just do it!" She turned away from the hurt in his eyes. His every emotion was always there in his eyes. She had no time for it.
Blaine rode forward in a cloud of snow. His cantering horse sent ice crystals sparkling in the air. The sunlight lit the gushing snow like diamond dust. A dim rainbow danced in the spilling snow. The sparkling light hurt her eyes.
She turned away from it, to find a small bush that glowed with silver fire. The light ate into her head. All she could see was silver light. It burrowed into her brain like a stabbing sword. She wanted to turn away, to close her eyes, but couldn't seem to do it.
"Elaine, can you hear me?" It was Gersalius's voice, warm and pleasant, the voice from the kitchen. "Yes."
"What are you seeing?" "Light."
"Describe the light to me." "Silver, white."
"Is it just reflected light from the ice?" "I don't know."
"Can you see anything else besides the light?" She shook her head, and the light swung and trembled like a metal mirror that been struck. Nausea burned at the back of her throat. She took deep breaths of the cold air, swallowing convulsively. "Could this be one of your visions trying to come through?"
"It doesn't feel the same," she said. "You are beginning to control your magic, Elaine. Where before visions came of their own accord, without your control, perhaps now they will only come if you ask them to."
"How do I do that?" Visions had always been easy in a way, effortless. It was like falling once she'd decided to jump. Once she let herself go, she couldn't do anything but experience it. She certainly couldn't stop it or change her mind. Pressure wasbuilding behind her eyes. The light was expanding to fill the inside of her skull with cold, hot, white light.
"The magic is asking permission, Elaine. Let it come."
"I don't know how."
"Concentrate on the light. Feed the light to your magic; let them intermingle. It is what you have always been doing, but now you
are doing it on purpose. You are simply aware of the process. Nothing else has changed."
She knew he was lying, but couldn't think how. She concentrated on the light, the brightness. As soon as she did, she could see again. She was still looking at the ice-covered bush. Sunlight beat sparks from it until it ran with silver flame. Elaine concentrated on one twig. She memorized the way the ice molded to the dark wood, the faint blue highlights that chased the white light. She could almost feel it against her fingers, slick, cold, smooth. Mo, there was a little bump in the ice where a twig stuck out, a tiny imperfection. Elaine could not possibly have known that. She could not see it, and she was still sitting on her horse, not touching the twig.
She could feel the wood at the center of the ice, feel its cold, and very faintly the waiting life, the warmth waiting for spring to come and give it life again. She grabbed that warmth to herself. It spread through her body like a rush of heat. The vision rode that warmth.
A man lay in the snow. He was like no man Elaine had ever seen. High, thin bones shaped his face. It could have been just a high-cheekboned face, handsome, but nothing more, but there was a delicacy to the face that was more than bone. The skin was silver, nearly the color of the sun-warmed snow. His skin was truly silver, metallic in color, spread over the snow like silk. It wasn't a man at all. She didn't know what it was, but it was no man. Was it a monster? A beautiful monster?
A woman knelt by him. Long brown hair fell around a thin face. There was something of the other's alienness in the woman's face, but her skin didn't have that awful paleness. But her eyes gleamed like fire-shot brass, making mock of the ordinary hair and skin.
She tipped a small glass vial to his lips, rubbing his throat to make him swallow. Why was Elaine watching this? The woman was caring for the wounded creature? Was that it? Were they meant to destroy it? Was it dangerous?
The woman looked up at something Elaine could not see. Her strange eyes widened. She scrambled backward, floundering in the snow. She drew a knife from her belt, on her knees in the snow beside the fallen creature.
Elaine wanted to see what was frightening her. For the first time, Elaine moved her sight through the vision, moved away from the girl to what she was looking at. Elaine thought it was a wolf at first. Then it rose upward, towering on two bent legs, clawed hands flexing. Breath snorted out of its gaping, jagged jaws in a cloud of white smoke.
Blood decorated the snow like crimson lace. A man lay torn and twitching at the beast's feet. Wolves the size of small ponies stood at the beast's back, waiting their turn, waiting for their master to let them feed.
"No," Elaine said. The beast turned to look up into the sky as if it had heard her. Had it? "Leave them alone."
The beast searched for the source of the voice, seeing nothing, but it did not attack the woman.
"Blaine, find them. Go to her. Help her."
"Where is she?" came his distant voice.
Elaine felt her arm move, slowly pointing.
She heard horses surging out through the snow. The jingle of harnesses, the snick of blades drawn. "Hurry," she said.
The beast stalked toward the woman, and the dire-wolves surged forward. The creature whirled with a roar. The wolves cringed, tails tucked tight, belly-crawling on the snow. The great canines groveled; they should have been terrifying, but the man-beast made them seem small and ordinary. An ordinary horror, compared to it.
Elaine turned back to the woman. She felt her head move, but it was not her eyes that saw. The woman still knelt by the fallen man. She stood now, knife ready, but her hand trembled. One knife was no match against such evil.
The beast bounded forward, impossibly fast on its twisted legs. It slashed at her, and she screamed, backing up a step.
Where was Elaine? Why didn't he help her?
The alien man moved on the snow, a soft movement as if he were waking. The great beast knelt, claws reaching for the closer victim. The woman rushed it, slashing with her small knife. Blood flew, and the creature reared back, bellowing. Red flowed from a deep wound in its arm. The girl seemed surprised that she had hurt it.
Lips drew back from its teeth. A low, terrible snarl rumbled up from its chest. It had been playing with her before now, thinking her no danger. That had changed.
It circled her, trying to force her away from the wounded man, to force her out into the open. Once her back was to the dire wolves, she would be dead; she could not stand against them all.
The woman wouldn't leave her wounded companion. She stayed, standing over him as he struggled to wake from something deeper than sleep.
The beast waved its arm, and the wolves advanced. Where was Blaine? They were going to be too late.
The wolves plunged forward in a snarling rush. The beast urged them on, muzzle pointed skyward, howling.
Elaine screamed wordlessly, hand outstretched, as if she could touch them, protect them somehow.
The wolves, a near-solid mass of fur and fangs, surged in on muscled legs, running like a dark wind that rushed toward the woman, but fell back in a shower of violet sparks. The wolves lay in a stunned heap, inches from the wounded man. There was a faint violet-blue glow in the air in front of the woman and the man.
The beast stalked nearer, kicking at the fallen dire wolves to clear its path. It waved a cautious claw at the air. Violet sparks followed the tips of its claws, falling in bluish rainbows to the snow. Sparks sizzled there.
The beast turned slowly, searching the trees. It pivoted all the way around, giving the girl its back. She had cast a powerful spell to save herself, but the beast considered her no longer. It sniffed the air, breath foaming in the cold. Suddenly, it stared straight at Elaine. She wasn't sure what had changed, or how she knew, but it saw her, knew she was there.
She was jerked roughly. Her face stung. She blinked, and someone slapped her, hard and stinging. Gersalius was half holding her. Jonathan drew his hand back to slap her again.
Elaine put her hand up to protect herself.
"I think she's all right, now," Gersalius said. He lightly touched Jonathan's shoulder. "I don't think you need strike her again."
"You told me to hit her," Jonathan said. His voice sounded defensive.
"I know," the wizard said. "Elaine, are you all right?"
"I was having a vision. Why did you break my concentration?" She was suddenly angry with them. "Now I don't know if the woman is safe. Why did you wake me?"
"Some great darkness had found you, Elaine. I could feel it searching for you. I yelled, tried to break your hold before it found you."
"What are you talking about?"
"The man-wolf, it is not just a monster. It is a great evil, more than it seems."
Elaine blinked at him. "How did you know about the man-beast?"
Jonathan answered. "Your. vision was visible on every reflecting surface. We watched it all in the twisted mirrors of the ice."
There was something in his voice that made Elaine stare. Disapproval. He disapproved of her. There was a wariness in his eyes, something close to. fear. That one look pierced Elaine's heart like a dagger. She turned away, burying her face in Gersal-ius's shoulder. She hid the tears against the wizard's cloak, wanting Jonathan not to see.
"If she can ride," Tereza said, "we must go and help the others."
Elaine felt Jonathan rise and walk away. She raised her head slowly.
Gersalius touched cold, bare fingers to her face, gathering the tears. "He does not mean to hurt you."
"I know." She sniffed, wiping at her face with her gloved hands. Gersalius helped her to her feet. She couldn't remember getting off her horse, let alone falling to the snow.
"I've never had a vision that lasted so long," she said.
"It was not just a vision."
"We must help the others," Tereza said. "Mount up."
"Do you feel well enough to ride?" the wizard asked.
"Yes, I feel fine. I don't feel tired or cold, or bad at all. Why?"
"Yo
u are learning to control your magic."
Tereza led Elaine's horse over to them. "I'll hold its head while you mount."
The horse's eyes rolled to white. It did not look happy.
"There is no time to be squeamish, Elaine. The others have ridden ahead. They may be hurt, needing our help."
Elaine nodded. She grabbed the saddle horn. The horse danced away, only its head stationary by Tereza. Gersalius lifted her from behind, and the momentum carried her onto the horse. She settled into the saddle with the horse fidgeting under her.
Tereza released its head and kicked her way forward, leaving Elaine struggling with the reins. She knew Blaine was safe. One thing her visions always told her was if something truly awful were happening to those she loved. Like her parents' death. Nothing final would happen without warning, though the warning was often useless. But it gave Elaine a certain confidence that disaster would not strike unawares.
Jonathan followed Tereza. Only Gersalius waited. She let the horse have its head. It gave a bound that made her shriek, then rushed forward. It ran full out, stretching its muscled body to entire length. It leapt over a fallen tree. She swallowed the scream that rose in her throat. She passed Tereza's mount and realized the horse was running away with her. The harder she pulled on the reins, the faster the blasted thing ran.
Her hood fell backward. Her hair streamed in the icy wind. The trees rushed by at blurring speed. Hands clutched at the saddle, clawing for a hold, for anything to hold to.
Over the whistling wind, she heard sounds of fighting-a snarling, snapping, yelling chaos. The horse was running straight for it.
The horse ran full-out toward a stream, a wide, swift-running stream with crumbling, snowy banks. Elaine watched in horror as the horse bunched up beneath her and leapt. It sailed over the stream, and Elaine was airborne as it dropped away and scrambled for the farther bank.
She slammed into a tree and fell, crumbling at its base. She couldn't breathe, couldn't make her body work. She was helpless and dying. The stupid horse had killed her at last.
Death of a Darklord (ravenloft) Page 7
