by Katy Winter
Wearily, she returned to the immediate present, conscious she'd walked steadily closer to the peaks. She hadn't translated, nor had she any inclination to. She travelled as Chlorien. She saw Autoc in her mind again and reached out to the vivid image she had of him, holding to it and hearing his deep calm voice speak again.
"Courage, little one." She saw him speak so clearly in her memory, it was like a sharp ache that wouldn't leave her.
"Father," she whispered to herself. "Father, I try to comprehend what you taught me. I understand what you tried to say about the perils that go with the pursuit of knowledge. Like you I don't crave power. I just wish to understand."
A smile trembled on lips that felt dry. Chlorien licked them and stood quite still. As she spoke, she saw a white flutter emerge, she thought, from the mountains themselves. She watched as it came closer and saw, to her delight, that it was a tiny, elegant dragon that fluttered and settled on her hand, its head tilted and its eyes inviting her to follow. Without hesitation and entranced, she did. The dragon flitted, always a little ahead directing the way, but it turned its head every so often, its eyes spinning in encouragement. Chlorien sensed no threat, just curiosity and concern that she not fall back. Time stood still for Chlorien while she trailed the tiny creature.
"You're so beautiful," she murmured, her hand going out involuntarily.
Immediately the estani butterfly paused, hovered, then alighted on her hand before it brushed its wings against her fingers as it rose to flutter on ahead. It winged its way in small surges. It was a hard trail to follow, because abruptly it became steeply uphill. Chlorien stumbled and cut herself. She was bruised from knocking against things as she tried to keep close to the little dragon. Then, unexpectedly, she was at the base of the peaks that ran sheer above her. They shone like glass and looked too smooth to climb. Chlorien was dwarfed. The estani was gone.
Bewildered, Chlorien called for it, but it didn't reappear. She brushed a hand across her eyes and crouched, over-awed by the peaks and shivering. She'd forgotten to eat, but wasn't hungry. Frightened, she stayed crouched. After she got cramp from staying that way for so long, Chlorien stood timidly. Her legs trembled with fatigue, just as they'd done so long ago when she'd first walked through the forest with the scholar, struggling to keep up with his long strides.
She forced herself to walk forward to the very base of the nearest peak. When she reached it, the peak disintegrated. Each peak she reached, the same thing happened, until she was left standing on the edge of a water-filled crater. When she stared at the water, it slowly changed colour. She cocked her head at it, but wouldn't go a step closer. The crater shape changed, too, now a canas, next an ommantadi tree, then a series of faces that she recognised because for her they were highly significant. The colours fluctuated with each image. Chlorien hissed, desert-fashion. Apprehension gripped her. She knew she had to take some sort of action to overcome this water, but she was tired and crushed and her mind was unwilling to grapple with anything else.
So she sat on the edge and stared into water that was now deep aquamarine and still. Chlorien noticed there were no ripples. Nor did it have reflections mirrored on the surface. It was dark and brooding. Puzzled, Chlorien picked up a stone from beside her and threw it into the water to see what would happen. Nothing did. The water merely absorbed the stone as though it didn't exist. Chlorien shivered.
She sat back thoughtfully, a hand to curls that hung damply about her face. She hesitated. Then she remembered the scholar telling her that not all she saw, was - in fact, often it was not. Her fingers twined even more. She knew the water was the only way forward, but she was too timid to step into it. She was deeply afraid that she, too, would disappear without trace.
Finally, when no answers presented themselves, Chlorien rose. With a resolute intake of breath, and remembering Autoc's advice to her that she have faith, she stepped into the water and kept walking until it reached her knees. She felt herself sucked under as she desperately tried to keep her head above the surface and only stopped struggling when she knew she'd gone under - her floundering stopped.
Then she realised that she hadn't drowned, she stood on firm ground, and, with a fraught sigh, looked about her. She was in a huge bowl in the middle of mountains. Peaks soared all round her wherever she looked. When she caught her breath and had the courage, she stared downwards to whirling eyes of myriad colours that made her dizzy and feel faintly sick. She realised she was on a broad ledge in the bowl, about a third the way up.
She sat heavily, edging back from a precipice that gave her vertigo. She was overwhelmed and weak and lacked either the energy, or fortitude, to crawl back to the edge to see what the eyes belonged to. She waited, quite still and resigned.
And she sat there for what to Chlorien seemed hours. The cold encased her. It made her unable even to shiver, because she felt her marrow turn to ice. She no longer felt pain - just a sense of deep, intense and penetrating cold. So she sat, rigid, her huge eyes staring at nothing, until she saw something move to her left. She couldn't move, because she'd no will to. She waited. When the movement came closer, Chlorien was aware she was no longer alone on the ledge.
"Turn to look at me," came a command in her mind. With an effort almost beyond her, Chlorien snapped the numbing bonds of cold and turned obediently, her eyes meeting spinning golden ones that moved with incredible speed. Those orbs held Chlorien, then dragged her forward. She knew the creature balanced on the edge of the ledge and she tried to pull back. She couldn't. Like a magnet she was drawn, until she felt herself touch the creature and then she stopped.
"Who are you?" she whispered.
"Climb up and into my pouch," came the second command. Chlorien looked up and her eyes widened.
"You're a dragon," she breathed. "A beautiful Ice dragon, such as Father described."
"Climb," said the voice, more gently this time.
Tired and battered though she was, Chlorien began to haul herself clumsily up towards the ridges on the dragon's back, her fingers still numb with cold. Instinctively, she sought the pouch behind the neck and sank trembling into it.
She felt a sickening surge when the dragon launched itself in the air, her stomach lurched unpleasantly, then the movement eased and she sensed they floated downwards, in a gentle spiral, that brought them to the base of the bowl. She sat still, awe-struck. All around her were dragons, their whirling eyes assessing her curiously. She felt small and helpless.
Chlorien clambered to the ground, her teeth chattering with cold and fright. Tiny and alone, she stood there. Her chest heaved with the effort to breathe in the icy atmosphere. A voice touched her mind. It was different from the dragon who carried her.
"What do you seek, courageous little child of Ambros?" Without knowing why she said it, Chlorien spoke out loud and very clearly.
"I'm here not just for one reason. I come for Lian's essence." All she could hear was the hissing of steamy breath.
"What else, small child that you are?"
Again, Chlorien answered without hesitation, "I call so I'll know my dragon in cycles to come."
"How can one such as you, not even a mage, make such a demand?"
"I bear the dragon mark," she said, completely unaware she'd responded. She'd no memory of what she said or did.
"Show us the mark!"
Chlorien rolled up her right sleeve to show a faint birthmark on her arm. It was only a small raised red welt that she'd tried to ignore all her life. She stopped rolling her tunic because the skin on her arm pulsed with a light of its own, the mark stretching itself into the semblance of the outline of a dragon. Chlorien didn't hear the sigh that swept the assembled dragons, because she stared perplexed at her arm that now looked quite normal. She blinked.
"Can you have any other reason for being here, dragon-marked child that you are?"
"My mother's here." The young voice quivered. "I want to be with Mam." There was a rushing of dragon breath in response to that.
A deeper voice c
ame to her mind, saying curiously, "Seek her out if you're so sure, child. I answer to Estbane."
All her love and anguish overwhelming her, Chlorien sent powerfully outwards. Mingled with that was deep grief that her birth should have brought about her mother's destruction. As she desperately sought, she caught a young dragon response. Chlorien knew she touched her mother and, without conscious effort, she poured all her energy, love and awareness into the contact, barely understanding she melded with one who'd deeply loved her. She sensed great power in the young Ice Crystal mind, as well as confusion. The power was raw but very real.
"Mam?"
"I was," came a young voice. "I'm Goldlas, though once I was Melas. I have her consciousness, as well as my dragon sense. You're my only daughter born of Ambros."
"Mam, it's me. You called me Myme Chlo."
"How do you answer now?"
"To Chlorien."
"Ice Crystal dragons are rare: I'm one."
"Yes."
"I'm not your dragon, beloved child, though we'll meet again. You mustn't grieve for me, Myme Chlo. I know who gave you to me. It alters nothing. I know I always wanted a daughter and I know I loved you so very dearly. I'm to go now."
"Mam?" wept Chlorien. "Mam, come back. I've missed you so much." Chlorien felt the meld dissolve. She stood with bowed head. Every part of her quivered. Dragon eyes, spinning in a mass of whirling colours, studied the small, still figure.
"Indeed," came the deep voice that was Estbane. "You've found your mother and given us answers to riddles that've occupied our minds for some time. You're a remarkably brave child, Chlorien. It's your mother who holds the essence you seek, child."
"And my dragon?" she sent back tentatively, her voice choked.
"I'm here, Chlorien." She looked up, her head turning incredulously to look into deep blue eyes that reminded her, with a stab, of Autoc.
"I'm Abylon."
Chlorien couldn't speak. Nor could she think, as she was swept into a meld with the powerful mind of the male dragon who'd maybe, if she was called for, become part of her. With a sob, Chlorien opened to Abylon. The dragon didn't fully meld with the child who stood in front of him, because he recognised her youth and vulnerability and also knew instinctively she wasn't yet ready to understand what a dragon bond was. He withdrew. Abylon bent his head to look at the small figure.
"Call me when you're ready, Chlorien," he sent gently. She nodded then looked round her. Her eyes were enormous and black. Suddenly she felt afraid, profoundly lost, bereft and deeply lonely.
"Where are you?" she sent out to Estbane. The deep voice entered her mind again.
"You've come a very, very long way, child, and are very tired. You need rest before you resume your journey."
"Lian's essence," she sent back. Her sending sounded faint to Estbane.
"It's in your hands, child. Guard it well. You'll know what to do with it at the given time. We cared for it until you were ready. Go now." The voice faded from her mind.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Chlorien struggled to keep the mind link open, but found it irrevocably closed. She knew she was alone in the ice bowl and, sinking helplessly to her knees, she called out.
"Father! Father!"
"I'm here, little one, as always," came the calm, deep voice in her mind.
"Father, help me!"
"Then come, little one."
"How do I reach you?" Chlorien's sending was faint. Her teeth chattered. She shook with exhaustion and cold.
"Close your eyes, Chlorien, and think of me," came the quiet voice. "Now, little one."
Chlorien felt the surge of affection and a sense of intense warmth sweep through her that dispelled the bone-chilling cold. An image of Autoc, whom she loved with every part of her being, rose so vividly in her mind it almost choked her.
"Gently, gently," cautioned a voice above her, as she felt arms enfold and hold her very close.
She was only dimly aware something was taken from her hands, because sobbing, she flung her arms about the mage and clung to him as if her survival depended on it. Autoc looked down at her, his eyes bright with tears. He stroked the dark, damp curls. He knelt on the shore of Ice Isle, Jaim beside him, the Gnosti's face remarkably grim. He hadn't missed the tremors that ran through the mage, as his arms went out to the stumbling figure who staggered across the stones to him, the young one's face white and the eyes wildly inky.
"How long's he been gone, my friend?" he asked.
"Only a day, Jaim, but to him it's been very much longer," replied Autoc, raising his head. Jaim looked searchingly into the mage's face.
"Didn't you expect him back, is that it?" he asked curiously.
"I knew he'd come back," came the quiet reply, "but not whether he'd be whole. That I didn't know."
"And is he?" demanded Jaim, his keen eyes bent on the boy. Autoc clamped Chlorien closer and nodded.
"Oh, yes, he's whole."
"He looks a complete mess to me," growled Jaim. "What do we do with him now?"
Autoc lifted Chlorien's head. Her eyes were still dark. She looked, Jaim thought with a shiver of pity and concern, harrowed. The mage looked deeply into her eyes and she responded as she always did, melding swiftly. It was brief.
"Father," she murmured. "Father."
Autoc brushed his hand across her forehead, and, as she slumped, he rose with her in his arms. Jaim already made his way to the boat anchored in the bay, stalking through water that came to his waist. He clambered aboard and turned, waiting for Autoc who'd reached the shore's edge, and now waded slowly out to him. Jaim took Chlorien. He laid her gently in the boat and waited while Autoc hauled himself on board and helped Jaim drag in the anchor. The mage left Jaim to attend to the tiller and sat, sorting out long legs that seemed much too lanky for the boat.
Comfortably settled, he bent and lifted Chlorien into his arms, resting the young head in his lap. He stared long down at her, before he wrapped her in very heavy skins and an all-enveloping cloak, the hood of which was pulled up and over her head. He cradled Chlorien indulgently. Jaim put his pipe to his mouth, looked up at wind filling the sails and glanced over at the mage bent over the boy.
"What was done to him, my friend?" he asked. "Or can't you tell me?"
"He saw images of reality he had to accept. He could go no further until he faced who and what he is." Autoc lifted his head and eyed Jaim pensively. "We all have weaknesses and inadequacies and indulge in self-deception. The lad's extremely young to be forced to come to terms with his."
"Why did he have to now?"
"There's no time to let him wait. It's very cruel what was done to him, just like the brothers, yet different. He had to seek and find, my friend, as well as face himself. Most of us," added the mage softly, "come to this gradually. He'll need love and understanding to help him, Jaim. I think it's time he knew you as you truly are. You need to be yourself to help me heal him, don't you?"
Jaim looked out over the sea, his expression remote. When he turned back to Autoc, his eyes were sombre.
"Yes, mage, I do. He's at that stage, is he?"
"Aye," murmured Autoc, his gaze back on Chlorien. Jaim's smile was rueful.
"So this is why I'm here, mage, is it?" Autoc met the tawny eyes but made no answer. "Where to, my friend?" asked Jaim, after a prolonged silence.
"Wherever," responded the mage vaguely. "Shall we go farther westward?"
"Do you mean to the Gnosti?"
"Why not?" quipped Autoc, glancing up with a smile lighting his eyes. "I'd like to return there and it'll be an education for the boy."
Chlorien woke to the steady swell of the sea. She lazily opened her eyes, aware of warmth and comfort and of being held securely in strong arms. She stared up at the sky, unwilling to move. Then she gave a small sob and turned her head into the chest of the one who held her, then, when a hand drew back the hood and turned her head so she looked up, her distraught eyes met compassionate blue ones.
"Little one." The
mage's voice was soothing and deep. "I'm pleased you're awake. We're at sea."
"Father!" Chlorien's voice was weak and the mage saw the fear and anguish in her eyes. He held her firmly.
"You've had a cruel experience, little one, haven't you?" Chlorien couldn't answer. Autoc said nothing. After a while, she gave another deep sob and spoke.
"Have you always known who I am?" she whispered.
"Yes, child. Why do you ask?"
"I'm a child of the dark, aren't I?" Chlorien wept bitterly.
"We all are, to some degree," she heard Autoc say. "Because you're born of someone who embraced the dark doesn't mean you'll be the same. We all have choice, little one."
"He claimed me," shivered Chlorien, the fear in her eyes deepening. "He tried to take me with him, and I know he has power, Father. He's a mage of great strength, isn't he?"
"Yes, little one, he is." Chlorien's eyes widened.
"You won't let him take me, will you, Father?" Autoc shook his head. "I can't resist him on my own, can I?"
"No, child, but then, you're only young. He's very old. You won't be asked to confront him for some cycles and even then you won't do so alone. Take comfort from that, little one." Chlorien saw his smile and snuggled more firmly into his arms.
"Why then did he come to me?"
"He was a sending, child. He wasn't physically there." Astonishment replaced the fear in Chlorien's eyes. She shook her head.
"No, Father," she argued. "He was there. I saw him." She shivered, but the mage's smile widened.
"Very well, little one," he said peaceably. "We won't dispute that. He came to you to make you accept who you are and also showed you what you could become if ambition is to be your guide."
"No!" shuddered Chlorien, continuing to stare up at Autoc. "He said you taught me well."
"Well and good," murmured Autoc softly, aware of the intense gaze. "What is it, child?"
"Why couldn't you just tell me who I am?" There was a forlorn note to her voice. Autoc stroked a pale cheek.
"Would you have believed me, little one? Would you have faced up to your origins and accepted them, if I had?" Chlorien's eyes clouded and reluctantly she shook her head.
"No," she whispered.
"I couldn't show you all he portrayed for you, Chlorien," Autoc's voice went on soothingly, "because it's not within me to do so. Only another, far more powerful, could do such a thing. You had to see for yourself, so you could decide what you want to be. I couldn't choose for you, lad."
