Gail Z. Martin - COTN 03 - Dark Haven (V1.0)(lit)

by Gail Z. Martin

  As the bells tolled the eleventh hour, Gabriel touched Carina on the shoulder. "It's time to make your gift to the Lady," he said, and held out her cloak. Lisette appeared, holding a deep crockery bowl filled with cream and honey. Jonmarc fell into step beside her as they left the great room, with the rest of the merry-makers behind them.

  Outside the main doors of Dark Haven, bon­fires lit up the courtyard. In the center was an ancient oak. It towered above the manor house, and its branches spread above much of the courtyard. Neirin had schooled her on the proper way to present the gift of cream and honey to the Weaver-Crone, but Carina still felt nervous as she approached the ancient tree. The snow had been cleared from its base, and its roots buckled up beneath the cobblestones of the courtyard.

  At its base, Carina knelt, carefully holding the bowl in front of her. "Lady of the loom, we offer our gifts," Carina said. "Grant us favor." She gradually tipped the bowl, watching steam rise from the warm cream as it poured onto the roots of the old tree.

  As the cream spilled out onto the tree trunk and the cobblestones beneath, Carina felt ener­gy crackle around her. Welling up from beneath the ground, traveling like lightning along the deepest roots, old power rose to envelop her. An image burned into her mind, of fire and rending and a red orb torn free, leav­ing a gash like a bleeding wound. There was an instant of agony, as if a clawed hand had reached into her body and torn loose her heart. In her mind, Carina saw a vision of the ground shaking, the west wing of Dark Haven collaps­ing in rubble, and panicked mortals running in fear. The Flow reached out to her, and the image of healing the ghost girl filled her mind. Pain, fear and desperation washed over her. Then, darkness.

  "What happened?" Carina was still wearing her dress from the night's festival and lying on her own bed. Jonmarc. sat beside her, holding her hand. Lisette pressed a cool cloth to her forehead. Gabriel stood in the corner opposite the fire, watching with concern.

  Jonmarc shook his head, and Carina saw worry in his dark eyes. "You tell us. One minute you were presenting the offering to the tree. Then all of a sudden, you stiffened up and fell backward. Your eyes were open, but they sure weren't seeing anything. We brought you up here. It's been almost half a candle-mark."

  Carina shut her eyes and swallowed, groping for words. "When I poured the cream on the tree roots, I saw a vision."

  "The Crone?" Jonmarc asked with concern.

  Carina shook her head. "I don't know. She recounted the vision at the foot of the tree. When she finished, Gabriel and Jonmarc exchanged glances. "And you've felt some­thing like that before?" Gabriel asked.

  Carina looked from Jonmarc to Gabriel. "Yes. Earlier today. When the ghost came."

  Lisette stepped forward. "She healed the ghost girl, the one who died in the plague. I saw her."

  Feeling foolish, Carina recounted what hap­pened. But this time, she added her impression that something had been watching her. Gabriel's frown deepened.

  "We assumed that healers saw no reason to come to Dark Haven because vayash morn had no need of them. We thought they were afraid. Perhaps there was another reason. Maybe they felt something here they couldn't explain, something that made them uncom­fortable."

  Jonmarc looked down. "This is all my fault. I never should have brought Carina here. It's too dangerous."

  Gabriel shrugged. "There's no changing it. There've been storms in the Dhasson Pass. Snow as deep as a man's waist. No one's going to be traveling anywhere."

  Carina took Jonmarc's hand. "I wouldn't go if I could. This is my home now. Here. With you."

  "I'm not going to let anything happen to you."

  Carina smiled. "Nothing's going to. Whoev­er, whatever it is had the power to hurt me if it wanted to. It's more like it wants me to know something, do something."

  "Promise me you won't try anything fool­ish," Jonmarc said. "I promise."

  Gabriel laid a hand on Jonmarc's shoulder. "We'd best return to the feast and let the guests know Carina is resting. Mention how hard she's been working with all of the patients who have come to see her. Perhaps that will keep too many stories from spreading."

  Jonmarc leaned down to kiss Carina on the forehead. "I'll be back to check in on you later. Now as you're so fond of telling me, get some rest."

  Carina smiled and leaned back against the pillows. "You have the makings of a great healer."

  The door closed behind Jonmarc and Gabriel before Lisette spoke. "Here's something odd, m'lady." Lisette held a book in her hands. The leather binding was cracked and broken and the pages yellowed. "This book was open on the table when we came in, but it wasn't there when we left. It's a record of the families of the Lords of Dark Haven. Births, feast days, mar­riages, deaths. Look here," she said. Carina followed Lisette's finger. The cramped hand­writing was faded with time, but she could make out the inscription.

  "Raen, daughter of Lord Brentig, died in the great plague on the twenty-first day of the Crone Moon," Carina read. "Raen, is that the name of the ghost?"

  "She was watching from the shadows when Lord Jonmarc carried you up here. She didn't leave until you came around. That name seems familiar." Lisette frowned and went to the bookshelves. She returned with a thin leather-bound journal. "I picked this up a few days ago—it had fallen on the floor. I thought it an accident at the time, but now, I'm not so sure." The journal was filled with neat, feminine handwriting. The name "Raen Brentig" was centered on the page, and a date.

  "That's about a year before the last great plague struck."

  Carina gently touched the page. "It's almost as if she wants us to know her," she said. Lisette removed the pillows from behind her so she could lie flat. "I seem to have made a friend."

  Carina pulled the covers up around herself, handling the book carefully. "Has it always been the custom for the noble daughters in Principality to read and write?"

  "It was fairly common when I was mortal," Lisette said. "I didn't know Raen, but she would have been alive close to the time I was brought across. A large manor is as complicat­ed to run as any trade. A smart man wanted an educated wife to help keep the accounts."

  Carina found herself drawn into the entries in the journal. Most were notes about the ups and downs of a young woman's life, with com­ments about parties and invitations and young men who caught Raen's eye. The lavender is blooming in the garden now. I'll have to take some for a fresh sachet. The ball is only a fort­night away. Carina turned the page. Another entry, dated just a few days after the first. Not feeling well. Hope this passes by the ball. The rest of the pages were blank. Carina set the journal aside, lost in thought.

  "Lord Jonmarc was right, m'lady. You must rest. Fear nothing. I'll watch until dawn."

  Carina let herself sink into the mattress, warmed by the down comforter, her mind still on the journal and its sudden end. In the dis­tance as she dreamed, she could hear Raen singing to her.

  When Carina awoke, the first light of dawn was streaming through her windows. She lin­gered for a moment beneath the warm covers. Jonmarc had already left for the day's tasks, and Lisette had gone to rest. Few of the mor­tal servants were stirring. Dark Haven was quiet.

  As Carina belted her healer's robe over her dress, she caught movement out of the corner of her eye. Raen stood in the shadows.

  "Hello," Carina greeted the ghost girl. "Thank you for your song last night."

  Raen moved toward the windows. The fire had warmed the room enough to fog the glass. As Carina watched, letters traced themselves in the fog. "Come."

  Carina looked at Raen, perplexed. "Come where? Why?"

  Another word formed as an invisible finger traced the letters. "Heal."

  "You want me to heal someone? One of the ghosts?" Carina shook her head. "I don't know if it will work—I'm still not sure how I did what I did for you." More letters appeared. "Hurt." "All right. Let me gather my things— although if it's a ghost who needs my help, they won't be of much use."

  Carina collected her pouches and opened the
door. The corridor was empty. Raen glid­ed out of the room and into the darkened hallway, visible as a green glow. Torches lit their way. Carina followed Raen down the back staircase to the second landing. The ghost halted at a door. "Those rooms haven't been restored," Carina said. "No one lives there now."

  Raen glided through the closed wooden door. Carina reached for the nearest torch and took it down from the sconce on the wall. No foot­prints except for the scrabbling of mice marked the dust-covered floor. It was cold, and Carina shivered. "How far?"

  Raen beckoned for her to follow. They passed a row of long-abandoned bedrooms. The corridor smelled musty, as if water had gotten in. At the end of the hallway a stairway descended into darkness.

  "This is the East wing, isn't it?" Carina said, looking from the ghost to the dark stairs. "It's dangerous down there—Jonmarc said that's where the walls collapsed when the orb was stolen."

  Raen reached out an insubstantial hand to lead the way. Carina pulled back. "We should wait. I don't think this is a good idea."

  Raen moved back into the hallway, where a thin shaft of light struggled through a dirty window. The dust on the floor began to move. This time, the ghost drew a bare-limbed tree, and beneath it, one word. "Understand."

  Carina looked at Raen. "The power that touched me last night, the presence that's mak­ing it hard for me to heal—that's what you want me to understand?" Raen nodded.

  Carina weighed her fear against the frustra­tion of her gradually waning power. "Can I reach the bottom safely? You can go through solid rock, but I can't."

  Raen moved toward the door. As they start­ed down the stairs, Raen's form began to glow, adding to the torchlight in the lightless stair­way. From the cramped turns and narrow tread, Carina guessed that it was a servant's passageway. She grimaced as cobwebs brushed her face. No one but the spirits had passed this way in many years. Carina counted the steps as they descended, making note of the landings. They kept going, as the stairway grew colder and the air damp. Carina was quite sure they were beneath the ground. Finally, they stopped in an antechamber. By the torchlight, Carina could see that deep cracks ran through the stone walls. Through the next archway, the darkness was broken by a silver glow. Careful­ly picking her way through bits of fallen rock, Carina realized that the archway was the open­ing to a natural cave.

  Raen walked beside her as Carina crossed through the archway. Inside the cave, large pieces of rock littered the pathway. The walls glistened with crystals, and in the distance, Carina could hear falling water. A doorway on the opposite side of the chamber had collapsed. Coruscating light filled the cave, surrounding them with an evanescent glow.

  Once before, during an Eastmark winter, Carina had glimpsed the Spirit Lights in the cold night sky. The ribbon of colored light glis­tened yellow and green, painted in bold strokes across the darkness. Like the Spirit Lights, the glow that filled the cave changed colors, as if the air were filled with diamond dust. The walls shone as the light hit crystals, reflecting in millions of tiny facets.

  Carina could sense the power around her like a thunderstorm overhead. This is the Flow.

  The glow became brighter, its colors began to shift. Gone were the tranquil shades of yellow and green. Deep pink and fiery red came over the glow as if reflecting a vivid sunset. At the same time, Carina felt power reaching out for her. New images filled her mind. She felt the rending of the Flow as a shock to the heart, gasping for breath as pain seared through her, seeing in her mind Arontala wresting the Orb from its pedestal in a glare of blue mage fire. Images of dark magic pressed into her mind as she saw Arontala and his mages bind the dam­aged Flow to work their blood spells. Distantly, Carina could hear her own screams echoing from the rock walls as she witnessed the abominations of blood magic that Aronta­la had worked in the dungeons beneath Shekerishet.

  The Flow shifted, and Carina glimpsed new images. A walled keep set on a snow-covered plain, surrounded by an army. The Flow swirled closer around her, and Carina could smell the stench of decaying flesh and the fetid odor of plague. She fell to her knees, retching. The Flow came no closer to her, but the images it sent burned brightly in her mind. She could feel the tug of light and darkness pulling at the Flow, war magic, powerful and dangerous. For an instant, she glimpsed Tris's face, and then the image vanished.

  The room glowed a deep blood red. Over her head, the Flow lashed back and forth. Carina fell flat against the stone floor, knowing instinctively to stay out of the way of the Flow's power. A hum like an angry swarm of bees grew louder. The images in her mind were coming in a jumble, too fast to recognize. Fear. Death. Vengeance. Whether the power was sentient or not, Carina had no doubt that it was in great pain, weakened by the taint of blood magic and stretched to the breaking point. It wants to be whole. Goddess help me! I can feel its power. I won't survive if I touch that. What can I do?

  The Flow convulsed, and the cave shuddered. Bits of rock clattered down around her. One final image, a vision of what might be, filled her mind and Carina saw the Flow ripped asunder. She saw raw power burn across the valleys of Dark Haven as the Flow shattered into wild tendrils of magic. The magic leveled everything in its path in a blast brighter than the sun. Caught up in the vision, Carina felt the light as searing pain. She collapsed to the cave floor, too drained to move.

  "Help me, Raen." There was no reply.

  Carina's head throbbed. She felt completely drained, both of her healing magic and the energy to move. The taste in her mouth reminded her that she had been sick. Unbid­den, the images she had seen in the Flow returned to her, and she squeezed her eyes shut to make them go away.

  "You're safe. It's all right." She opened her eyes slowly. Jonmarc sat beside her, with her hand clasped in his. Lisette and Gabriel came closer to where she lay. She glimpsed Raen standing in the shadows with a frightened look on her face. Gradually, Carina realized she was lying on a couch in Dark Haven's parlor. Her skin looked as if she had spent the day out­doors in the heat of summer. Breathing almost seemed too much effort.

  "Whatever she encountered down there may not have drawn blood, but it definitely drained her." Gabriel knelt beside her and let his fin­gertips brush against her temples. "Vayash moru can sense the barest spark of life. Nor­mally, it glows brightly." He looked up. "It's as if something fed from her, knowing just when to pull back."

  "What possessed you to go to the East wing?" Jonmarc asked. "You know it's dan­gerous. If the ghost hadn't come for us, we might not have found you."

  "The Flow is coming apart," Carina mur­mured. "Raen thought she was helping. She knew the Flow was in pain. It wants a healer."

  "Mages have tried to heal the Flow," Gabriel said, standing. "None of those who tried sur­vived."

  Carina looked up at Gabriel. "You remember the Mage Wars?"

  Gabriel nodded.

  "What happened to the Blasted Lands?"

  Gabriel frowned. "The Obsidian King's allies had a stronghold in the far north, on the rim of the Northern Sea above Eastmark. They were powerful blood mages. During the final battle, as the Sisterhood and Bava K'aa made their last strike against the Obsidian King, we knew that his allies were preparing a counterstrike." He turned away and began to pace. "I'm not a mage, but I've known powerful magic users. They say that power flows like the under­ground rivers, deep beneath us. All magic draws on that power. Blood magic weakens the energy.

  "During the final battle of the Mage War, the river of power that flowed through that place broke loose. I can't tell you how it happened, only what I saw. There was a bright flare, and a clap louder than thunder. The ground shook like it was going to open up and swallow us. The building collapsed around me and I was buried in the rubble. Some of the mages died instantly. Others went mad. Only the most powerful were able to keep their wits to finish the battle.

  "Later, we went to see what became of the blood mages who were the allies of the Obsid­ian King. For a league around their stronghold, everything was scorched and flattened. No p
lants, no trees, only the burned carcasses of animals. There was a crater where the keep had been. Wild magic still fills that place. It dried up the milk, made the crops die, killed the children. People fled. It's been a wasteland ever since."

  "So if the Flow comes apart, we don't have a chance," Jonmarc finished.

  "Raen's right. The Flow's very badly dam­aged," Carina said. "I don't know how to fix it, but if we don't come up with something, soon, it's not going to matter. Dark Haven won't be here—and neither will we."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  "You're looking out of that window as if you're expecting to see something," Cerise said gently.

  "I keep thinking that if I look southward, I'll be able to see Tris and his troops. The month Tris and I were together was so beautiful, but now he's gone and I'm homesick, Cerise." Kiara's hand fell to her belly. "And I'm tired of throwing up."

  "Some things work the same for queens and commoners alike, my dear. Babies are one of them. Wars are another. The powders I gave you didn't help your stomach?"

  "Not really. At least I won't be tempted by all the foods at Winterstide. Nothing sounds good at the moment."

  "If it's any consolation, your mother was worse. She was sick for such a long time, we feared she might starve. But it passed."

  "She nearly died when I was born. I hope I have an easier time."

  "The women on your father's side are hearti­er in that respect. You'll be fine." Cerise took Kiara's hand and led her to a seat by the fire.

  "Winterstide begins tonight," Kiara said, swirling a bit of sugar into her tea. "I miss father terribly. It's going to be so strange, cele­brating without him."