by Thomas Locke
All Dally heard made this man seem impossibly far removed. A universe of wealth and experience separated them. It was ridiculous to feel such disappointment. All she said was, “Oh.”
“I learned early and well to hear what was not being said. And what they don’t want to admit, not even to themselves.”
“What did you not hear from our leaders today?”
He stopped and lowered his voice, though there was no one visible to overhear them. “Two things. First, they don’t want to admit to something all leaders dread.”
“What is that?”
“They have no idea what to do next,” Connell replied. “Which leads us to the second unspoken message. They suspect the dark wizard who led the attack has survived. There is no evidence one way or the other. And the remaining fiends have vanished. The Elves have scoured the forest and found no sign. But they fear the true foe is still out there, and I agree.”
Dally nodded reluctantly. “They need to know if he’s going to attack again, and how.”
“And where,” Connell confirmed.
“They could ask the Ashanta.”
“And they will, if they must. But the Ashanta are being extremely, well, Ashanta. So they’d rather ask you.”
The mist coalesced into a dense white entity that threatened to cut off Dally’s air. Even so, she managed a quiet, “I’ll do it.”
28
They passed by the kennels, where Bear greeted her warmly and directed her two wolfhounds into the makeshift corral. Then they left the village by the main road.
Dally leaned heavily on Connell’s arm. The point where her skull met her spine throbbed. She felt no pain, yet she knew agony was there, bound into captivity but ready to burst out at any time. “How long will the medic’s spell keep my pain at bay?”
“As long as it needs to. Just let me know if you feel discomfort. The medics reluctantly instructed me in how to strengthen it.”
Her steps were unsteady and far too slow. But Connell matched her stride and showed no impatience. “Can’t you just make it go away?”
“I am no medic. But I’m told that pain plays a role in the healing process. Erase one, you stifle the other. Best to just keep it at a distance.”
Dally found it very pleasant to rely on his strength. Connell exuded a refined masculinity, not so much a scent as a charge she could feel in the pit of her stomach. “Why are you here? I mean . . .”
“I know what you mean.” He cast her a sideways glance, his eyes clear as washed sapphires. “How open would you like me to be, Dally?”
She liked his directness and responded in kind. “Mistress Edlyn said she would always tell me the truth, even when it was far more difficult than a lie. I think that is the nicest thing anyone has said to me in a long while.”
He nodded. “Very well. The answer is, we have something in common, you and I. The rulers we serve have no idea what to do with us.”
“Me, I understand. But you?”
“Shona and I have a history.”
Dally knew a flash of envy, which she quickly stifled. “Terrible word, history.”
“I’ve known Shona since we were children. Our families thought of us as the perfect match. She is . . .”
“Beautiful,” Dally said softly.
Connell’s words slowed to match their pace. “Since her coronation, I’ve always expected to serve as her chief mage.” He returned the salute of passing squaddies. “Terrible thing, expectations.”
“What happened?”
“Shona selected Myron to lead her wizards. Sooner or later Edlyn must return to the Long Hall. Oh, she’s promised to return whenever Shona requires, and bring the hall’s orb with her. But placing Myron in the lead position serves as a living bond to this vow.”
“So they sent you to me.”
“You need a teacher,” Connell replied.
“I certainly do.”
“I’m told I’m quite good at that.”
“Do you mind?”
“Dally, I should be asking you that. Say the word, and Shona or Meda or Edlyn or Ainya will make me vanish.”
Dally took her time responding. They left the trail and entered the meadow bordering the forest. She could not actually see where they were, but the ground was rougher here. The pasture was sown with summer hay and felt heavy with dew. Each step swished the damp softly against her legs. Then the first hint of what lay ahead came to her.
She said, “I would consider it an honor. And more besides.”
Connell sketched a brief bow as they walked. “I am the one honored.”
A few paces more, and she caught the first faint hint of the power that awaited her. “I’m so scared.”
“Of what?”
But there was no way she could put her rising terror into words. The Elven portal was up ahead. And with it came another blast of everything wrong and unknowable about her life.
Connell stopped and turned to her. “What frightens you, Dally?”
“That.” She pointed into the mist. “The force that is poised to swallow me again. Everything it represents. The risk that it will one day consume me entirely.”
He studied her face with a worried gaze. When she did not say anything more, he asked, “Will you wait here, please?”
“Of course.” Gladly. All day, if possible. Or a week. Longer.
Connell left her there in the knee-high grass and walked across the field. He was soon swallowed by the mist.
Dally found a comforting blandness to the fog. Sounds came from all directions and nowhere in particular. She felt surrounded by people intent upon protecting her. Dally relaxed in stages, gradually accepting that the pain in her head was truly kept at bay. She wished she could sit down. Better still, go back to the infirmary and lie on her pallet and pull up the covers . . .
“Dally?”
“Over here.”
“Ah. Excellent.” Connell reappeared, leading an older Elf whom Dally recognized as Ainya’s aide. He spoke in that melodious cadence that Dally had loved ever since hearing the very first word. Connell translated, “This is Vaytan, and he asks if you would answer some questions.”
“You speak Elven?”
“Some. I’m learning. Languages do not come easy to me. But Master Trace asked, so I study.”
“Trace?”
“Another time, yes?”
The Elf spoke, then Connell said, “Vaytan wants you to walk forward slowly and tell him when the portal’s force impacts you.”
Dally remained where she was. “Now.”
The two men halted in mid-stride. “Truly?”
“Oh, not like he means. I don’t feel drawn away.” She pointed slightly to their left. “But I know the portal is right up ahead.”
The Elf’s green-gold gaze radiated kindness and intelligence in equal measure. “He asks that you describe the sensation.”
Dally thought Vaytan was probably quite old, though there was a sprightly brilliance to his manner. She wondered how Elves measured time, or if they bothered to even count the passing years. “It’s like I smell it, but not with my nose. I’m sorry, I don’t know how to say it any better.”
“He says perhaps it’s as if you have grown a new sense.”
“Yes, that’s it exactly.”
“Can you smell all magic?”
“I don’t have enough experience to know. But I don’t think so.”
Vaytan waved that aside and continued speaking.
“Good, he says. Very good. Now he asks you to walk toward the portal and tell him the instant you feel your sense of reality begin to shift.”
The fears she had managed to set aside returned in a rush. “Will you hold my hand?”
“Dally . . . Of course.”
The Elf noticed the exchange, and Connell translated, “Vaytan asks what about the act of far-seeing frightens you.”
“He doesn’t know?”
“He says there are ancient records of Elves with this ability. But he has never met one
. All Ashanta hold this gift in some capacity, or so he has been told. But the Seers are the ones trained to harness it. He asks again about your fears.”
“I’m not scared by the seeing.” Dally found a comforting strength in how the human mage and the Elven elder both treated her as, well . . .
She had to search for the word that described their attitude. An equal, she decided. Neither her upbringing nor her raw, untrained abilities mattered to them—at least, not enough for them to talk down to her. She realized this was the trait that had most appealed to her about all these recent experiences. Edlyn, Alembord, Meda, even Shona. They saw her as simply one of them.
Connell gently pressed, “If it is not the far-seeing, then what?”
“It’s what comes after,” Dally replied. “I’m attacked. Each time I far-see, another portion of my life is stripped away.”
The two men exchanged worried glances. “Vaytan says, will you walk forward now, please.”
Gradually her grip on Connell’s hand tightened. Vaytan stepped closer. One step, two, three . . .
“Now,” she gasped. “Here. It’s started.”
Vaytan’s gaze was deep, penetrating, concerned.
“He says, we would not ask this of you if it were not so important.”
“All right. Yes.”
“Dally, would you loosen your grip a trifle?”
“Sorry.”
“No, I’m the one who should apologize, pulling you from your sickbed . . . Vaytan asks, what is the difference between what you sense now and looking into the candle?”
“In the candle, I travel somewhere, I see, and then I return. Here . . . I have flashes of insight.”
“I don’t know the Elven word for flash. Can you use another?”
She could feel the tendrils of power rippling through her gut, almost but not quite powerful enough to pull her away. “Lightning. Explosions. Bursts of force. Attacks.”
“All right, all right.” Connell’s gaze mirrored Vaytan’s concern. “He asks, might we ask you a question that directs what you will receive as images here, as the Mistress did with the candle?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps.”
“Can you explain?”
“I tried to direct it once already.” Her responses were brief gasps of words, all she could manage. “I knew Edlyn needed to find the enemy. So I looked. And there he was.”
“Vaytan says this is very important. We do not seek to have you see something that is out there. We already know about the issue as it appears. Do you understand what he means?”
Dally found it too difficult to speak now. She nodded, or tried to. But perhaps it was merely a shudder.
“We do not need you to go and see something,” Connell repeated. “We need an answer to an unresolved mystery. If there is indeed an answer to be had.”
Dally heard the dialogue on both sides. Musical chanting, then Connell. Two lovely voices, so close she felt their warmth. And concern. She nodded again. She was terrified. But she was also ready.
“We need to know what is wrong with Hyam. And how we can heal him.” Connell gave that a moment, then gripped her arm with his free hand. “We are with you, Dally. Step forward when you’re ready.”
29
Once again, Dally woke to sunlit cloth walls and an elegantly handsome man seated beside her sickbed.
As soon as she opened her eyes, Connell rushed from the room. He was gone long enough for Dally to realize that the sun now shone upon the western wall and carried the burnished warmth of approaching dusk. Which meant she had been unconscious through the entire day. Dally’s worst physical discomfort came from a very sore throat and the throbbing juncture where her head met her neck. But she also felt internally bruised, as though her deepest being had been assaulted by the morning’s events.
Which, she decided, was more or less the truth.
She heard approaching voices and pushed herself to a seated position. Her dizziness was so intense she felt nauseous. But she was desperately thirsty and did not want to try to drink lying down. She required both hands to lift the mug on her bedside table. Each swallow was agony, but the water tasted divine.
The voices grew into a fierce argument swiftly approaching. Dally wanted to be standing for whatever was about to come her way, but her legs would not support her.
The healer protested, “I allowed one of your parasites in there because the Lady Shona ordered. And that is one too many!”
Connell said, “Parasite? That’s a bit harsh.”
Meda snapped, “Healer, you forget yourself.”
“I forget nothing!”
“What is more, you forget whom you address!”
“I know exactly whom I’m addressing! What’s more, I know where! In my clinic!”
Edlyn said, “That’s quite enough.”
“You took one of my patients before I gave my permission. You placed her in harm’s way. You brought her back in an even worse state. And now you want more of her! No, I say! No!”
Meda snarled, “Alembord, restrain this medic. And if he gives you any further trouble, cage him.”
Shona’s was the only voice that remained calm. “You will do no such thing. Connell, where is the patient?”
“The last compartment on your right, my lady.”
Even as wounded and dull as she felt, Dally knew a keen nervousness as the group forced their way past the medic and crowded into her doorway.
The medic kept struggling against Alembord’s firm hold. “I order you to release me!”
“All of you be silent.” Shona approached the foot of the bed, her voice and face holding a deceptive calm. Dally thought her force was made even more potent through this evident control. Dally struggled to rise, but Shona ordered, “Stay where you are.”
“My lady.”
“How do you feel?”
“Not good. But it doesn’t matter.”
“Of course it matters,” the medic groused. “Do you not hear her? The woman is ill and needs—”
Shona merely turned and glanced his way. A single look.
The doctor froze like he was made of glacial ice.
Shona said softly, “I want you to assure me that you are quite done.”
The medic made do with a single nod.
“Alembord, you may release the healer. Meda, take your hand off your blade. Edlyn, sheath your wand.” She turned back to Dally. “How much do you remember?”
“I’m not sure.” She swallowed painfully. “My throat is very sore.”
“I’m hardly surprised. After the way you shouted.”
“I . . . yelled?”
“Screamed, more like,” Connell said. “On and on.”
Edlyn stepped forward, took the empty cup from Dally’s hands, and gave it to the medic. “Make yourself useful, good sir. Tepid this time, and lace it with honey and lemon.”
Dally asked, “What did I say?”
Shona’s resolve almost broke. “Hyam. You repeated his name. Many times.”
Dally remembered then. The name had been at the heart of a surging blast of images. She said hoarsely, “Hyam is dying.”
The queen struggled momentarily but maintained her composure. The only evidence Shona gave of her internal destruction was the release of a single tear.
“My lady . . .” Dally watched the tear’s descent.
“Honesty,” Edlyn said softly. “Remember its value. Even when it hurts.”
Dally found it necessary to focus on the Mistress to continue. “Hyam is wasting away.”
“Poison?”
“Not in the normal sense. Nothing he has taken. But it is the enemy’s hand at work. The image was clear on that.”
“Just as I suspected,” Edlyn said.
“But how?” Shona’s voice was as soft as it was woeful. “He has remained shielded inside the Elven realm since Joelle’s death.”
“Perhaps from before,” Meda said. “In his quest for the vial.”
The healer took the mug from
an assistant and passed it to Dally. He was now as caught up in the drama as the others. “Vial?”
“Joelle’s life breath was forced from her body,” Meda said, the former quarrel forgotten now. “A Milantian mage stole it away. And I watched it happen.”
“You were as frozen and helpless as I,” Shona replied.
“You were far from helpless, my lady. You saved my life.”
She waved that aside and turned the name into a soft dirge. “Hyam. Is there anything we can do?”
“Probably not, my lady. That was altogether clear.”
“Which means we should strike,” Meda said.
Dally shook her head. “All the options you are considering, they lead to ruin.”
Meda scowled. “How can you be certain?”
“Because I saw them.” The recollections caused her entire body to shudder anew. “The proposed attack on Port Royal leads to utter defeat. Your plan to kidnap the king’s wife and son is no more successful. A blockade of the Inland Sea would lead to complete—”
“Those plans are secret,” the colonel hissed.
“No longer,” Edlyn said. “If Dally has envisioned them, we must accept the risk that our enemy has managed to access them as well.”
Shona said, “Go on, Dally.”
“Every concept you have discussed would only lead to defeat and ruin. The enemy is ready. He hopes to use Hyam to lure us into a desperate act.”
Shona demanded, “What, then?”
“My lady, there is little hope.”
“A little is better than none at all!”
“I must go to Eagle’s Claw,” Dally said. “Alone, save for one guard.”
“When?”
“Now. This very instant. There isn’t a moment to lose. Hyam’s life hangs in the balance. And ours.”
Edlyn demanded, “What are you to do once you arrive?”
“The only thing I can,” Dally replied, and sipped from her mug. “Wait.”
30
At a word from his queen, Alembord departed to begin preparations. When Connell offered to serve as Dally’s guard and liaison, the group seemed to have already accepted it as fact.
