EMBRACE OF MEMORY

by Vicki McElfresh

  He shook his head to erase the vision and resumed his walk. He needed to leave, soon, before the dreams grew worse, and he lost control. Like last time--he cut the thought off and started for the house. His father would understand, surely. He moved a little faster. There were still a few hours before noon. If he left now, he could be far away from Lishal Tor before nightfall. He pushed the door to the house open and glanced down the hallway. No one was about, and he opened the door a little wider.

  "Going somewhere, Ellery? You've not been to see me yet."

  Cree froze. Slowly, he turned and faced the figure of his nightmares. Sarana leaned on a worn staff. His paunch strained the material of a once-white robe. A few stray hairs stuck up over the mage's balding head. His pock-marked face showed no emotion, and his eyes were black, devoid of all life. Cree shivered and tried to back through the door, but his legs refused to move.

  "Fear, Ellery?" Sarana smiled and held out a hand. "You've nothing to fear from me. We've always been so close. We could go down and have some tea, reminisce about the old days."

  The mage's voice was soft and persuasive, and Cree had to force himself not to take the offered hand. "No, I won't go anywhere with you." He managed to take a step backwards. One more and he could shut the door and run.

  The mage took a step forward, his smile fading. "No? That is not the answer you gave eight years ago. Eight years ago you were eager, willing even, and now--"

  "I was never willing!" He clutched the doorframe and tried to tell his feet to move.

  "Perhaps your Father would like to know all you've done."

  "All you've done, you mean. I could go tell him, right now."

  The mage laughed. "He'd never believe you. In fact, he still thinks you're a murderer."

  "You lie!"

  Sarana held out his arms in protest. "I would never lie, and not only does he not believe your story, he's given you up."

  Cree's stomach lurched. "Given me up?"

  The mage took a step towards him. "Ka-shal Tiroth wants you, and your father has given you up. The Reapers are on their way now. When they get here you'll be--"

  "No! You're lying!" Anger at last breaking the spell of his fear, Cree stepped through the door and slammed it in Sarana's face. He locked the door and leaned against it. Father, wouldn't . . . He started slowly up the hall. Sarana's always lied to me, and Father wouldn't do that, he was so sincere. He started for Reorden's study.

  "Do you doubt your father, Ellery?" Sarana said from behind him.

  Cree's blood turned to ice, and he spun around to face the mage, fear replacing his anger. "Father would never do that."

  "Really? Had you not run away, he would have disowned and banished you, and you say he would not turn you over to Ka-shal Tiroth?" Sarana shook his head. "Ellery, Ellery, when will you learn that people like us--"

  "I'm not like you."

  A malicious smile spread across Sarana's face, stretching the scarred skin into ugly patterns. "Then tell Reorden everything, Cree Lin." Sarana's voice grew sharp. "Tell him what you did before you left for the mountains, and see what his reaction will be. Trust me, you'd be far better off in my company." Sarana raised a hand. "Perhaps you need a reminder, a taste of power to rekindle your desire."

  The first touches of magic crawled over Cree's skin. His ears buzzed. His body hummed in tune with the noise. He moaned and took a step backwards. Fingers of pain spread along his body, and he fell to his knees. The pain intensified, and in desperation, he reached for his own magic, hoping to catch just enough to stop the pain. Instead, he touched Sarana's mind, and waves of jealousy, anger, and hatred consumed him. Terrified, he pulled away. The pain seemed distant now, and with an effort, he gathered his fear, spun it into a ball, and flung it at the mage. Sarana screamed, and the pain fled as quickly as it had come. Cree ran.

  He stumbled and picked himself off the ground. Behind him, he heard Sarana scream his name. The air hummed. He ran faster. His skin burned with the first touches of agony. He bit his lip and ran faster. The stairs were just ahead, if could just get back to his room, he would be safe. The pain spread along his neck, and his head began to throb in response. With a sudden jerk, his legs were wrenched from under him, and he slid along the floor back to Sarana. He clawed at the stone, hoping to dig his fingers in it and stop himself. But the effort was futile, and eventually, he went limp and stopped fighting.

  "Ellery." Sarana reached down and hauled him to his knees. "Ellery, I would have thought better of you. You have forgotten the pleasures power can bring."

  His knees hurt. He coughed at the scent of the mage's fetid breath. "I forsook my powers."

  Sarana laughed. "Forsook them?" The mage laughed harder. "No one can do that, Ellery. You haven't forsaken them all, either. You still use the empathy; you struck at me just moments ago. No, Ellery." The mage leaned close to whisper in his ear. "You've done nothing but stop using your powers. They are still there, waiting to be used. Waiting for me to use them."

  The pain clamped down again, and against his will, Cree stood. The mage started down the hallway, and Cree stumbled after him, fighting each step. "I won't do this."

  "You will." The mage moved close and stared into his eyes. "You are mine for all time. You will boost me to greatness, and--"

  "That's enough!"

  The vise of pain holding Cree loosened and he opened his eyes to see Mirayla a few steps away with her arms crossed over chest and a disapproving scowl on her face. Cree did not need to open his mind to feel her anger and outrage; she radiated the emotions.

  "And who are you to tell me what to do?"

  She took a step towards Cree. "I am Mirayla, a healer of the Cavordiac. This man is under my protection and my care."

  Sarana laughed. "Really? He is my student, foolish girl, and I've the right to do with him as I wish."

  "He's not your student any longer. He is mine, and you will release him."

  Sarana studied her a moment, and with a wave of his hand, released the magical bonds around Cree. A cunning gleam touched his eyes. "If you want him so badly, take him. I've lost enough time with the fool." Sarana started to walk away. "But I warn you, girl, he needs special handling, the kind only I can give."

  She helped Cree to his feet. "I'm quite certain I can handle him. Good day." She looped her arm through Cree's and led him towards the stairs. "Are you all right?"

  Sarana's eyes bored into Cree's back. He glanced over his shoulder and watched the mage walk away, muttering under his breath. "I--I'm fine." But he did not feel fine. His legs were shaking, and he was certain he would collapse without Mirayla's support. His head ached abominably, and he had a foul taste in his mouth.

  Mirayla gave him a sharp look. "You don't look fine. You're too pale, and you're shaking." She snorted. "Old bully, someone should give him one of his own lessons."

  He managed a feeble laugh. "I'd like to see that." A wave of weakness washed over him, and he grabbed the wall.

  "Here." Mirayla lowered him to the steps. "Let's sit down for a bit and give you a chance to recover."

  He sat down with a grateful sigh. "Thank you."

  She arched an eyebrow. "You've no need to thank me. I only did what a decent person would have done. Are you hungry? We could--"

  "I just want to go back to my room and lie down, please." Using the wall, he levered himself back up.

  "Sit down! A little rest won't hurt, and you've sulked in your room all the time you've been here." He flinched, and she bit her lip. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

  "I don't like being here. I only stayed because Father asked me to. And I really have nowhere else to go." He thought briefly of telling her he was thinking of packing his things and leaving immediately, but he held his tongue, not certain he was ready to trust her.

  She smiled a little. "I've a proposition for you."

  "What sort of a proposition?"

  "Come back to Socorrow's Rest with me."

  "What?"

  S
he chuckled. "I think you heard me."

  He ran a nervous hand through his hair. "I can't do that."

  "Why not? You said yourself you don't like it here, and you've nowhere else to go. It seems a perfect solution to me. We could do something about the memories you're hiding and see about getting that magic under control and --"

  His eyes grew wide. "Absolutely not."

  She shook her head. "But why?"

  "I'll have nothing to do with magic." He stood and started up the stairs, leaning against the wall for support.

  "At least think about it."

  He paused. Socorrow's Rest was a week away, maybe further. He could still go with her, even if he did none of things she had suggested. The offer was tempting. "I'll think about it."

  Mirayla turned and smiled up at him. "See that you do."

  ~*~

  Safe behind the locked door of his room, Cree slumped on the bed and stared at the glowing coals of the fire. The room was cold, far too cold to be comfortable, but he didn't want to be comfortable. Sarana's words stuck in his mind. "Your father has given you up. The Reapers are on their way now." He stood and paced the length of the room, nervous tension settling in his stomach. Father wouldn't do that. It's just more of Sarana's lies. He tossed a stick of wood into the fire and watched golden sparks fly up the chimney. Or would he? He sent me to Ka-shal Tiroth before. The room grew a little colder, and he shivered. He tossed another stick into the fire and left the room. Reorden's study was only a few doors away. The door was open, and Cree stepped inside without knocking. Reorden sat at his desk absorbed in a pile of ledgers, muttering to himself. Cree cleared his throat.

  His father looked up and dropped his pencil. "Ellery--Cree, what are you doing here?"

  "I have a question."

  Reorden's eyes narrowed. "What sort of question?"

  Cree crossed his arms. "I've been to see Sarana." His father started and shifted uncomfortably. "Did you turn me over to the Reapers?"

  His father studied the ledger on his desk. "Sarana thought it best. He thought we could clear your name and--"

  "It won't clear my name. I never even knew there were charges against me. I'm a dead man."

  "You don't know that. Sarana can be very persuasive and --"

  "He doesn't care about me, Father! He never has."

  "Cree, you've always had this grudge against him and I--"

  Cree wanted to strike something, anything. "I should never have come here." He turned for the door. "I'm leaving, Father, and this time I won't be back."

  Reorden stood and moved towards him. "Cree, you're overreacting."

  "I am not, Father. Once the Reapers are here, I will be dead. I have to leave."

  "But you've nowhere to go. You said so yourself. Please, Son, I--" His father stretched out a hand.

  Cree stared at the offered hand and tears filled his eyes. "I'm sorry, Father. I have to. There are things you don't know. Things you don't understand, and I can't explain them. I'm sorry." He studied Reorden's face a moment and remembered Mirayla's proposition. "And I do have somewhere to go."

  "Where? Back to the barbarians?" And edge of bitterness crept into Reorden's voice.

  "I can't tell you. Good-bye, Father." He ran from the room and tried to erase the image of his father's sad, haunted eyes from his mind. Somehow, I'll make it up to you, Father, I promise.

  "I have to find Mirayla," he whispered to himself as he opened the door of his room. Lost in his thoughts, he did not see the figure sitting on his bed until he was inside the room. He screamed.

  Mirayla stood and put a finger to her lips. "Relax! I didn't mean to startle you; I only wanted to see how you were. You didn't look well when I--"

  "I don't like such things, especially here." He willed his heart to beat a little slower and forced breath into his lungs.

  "I'm sorry," she said softly. "I wasn't thinking, but I was concerned about you."

  He stared at her, amazed. "Why do you care so much?"

  She sat down again and sighed. "I'm a healer and you are in pain. I can't ignore that. I want to help. I have to help."

  He laughed. "Help me? You don't know what I've been through. You don't know what--"

  "But I do know." She raised her eyes and met his gaze. "I dream, too, Cree, powerful dreams."

  "Dreams mean nothing."

  "Do you believe that?" She stood. "It was a dream that brought you here. You wouldn't have come otherwise. All those memories you hide, you relive in your dreams, and yet, you say they mean nothing."

  He stared at the floor. "Did you dream of me?"

  "Sometimes. I know the kind of pain you hold inside you, Cree. It's pain I can help you bear, if you'll let me."

  He moved to the fireplace and stared at the dying coals. "You wouldn't understand." He refused to look at her. Her words reawakened the aching emptiness inside; an emptiness nothing could fill.

  "Your emotions will destroy you, Cree Lin." Mirayla started for the door. "If you change your mind, I'll--"

  "Don't go." His voice broke on the last word, and he turned to face her.

  She stopped with her hand on the door. "I thought you didn't want--"

  "You asked me to go to Socorrow's Rest. Does the offer still stand?"

  A faint smile danced across her lips. "Of course. Are you accepting?"

  He nodded. "On one condition."

  "What condition?"

  "We have to leave as soon as possible."

  She frowned. "Why?"

  "Because I've been handed over to the Reapers of Ka-shal Tiroth, and if I stay, I'm a dead man for sure."

  Surprise flickered across her face, and she glanced out the window. "It's too late to start today, unless you want to ride at night. But are you certain? Perhaps it's just to--"

  "No, I'm certain." He looked the window. "And if the Reapers don't kill me, Sarana will certainly make me wish I were dead."

  Silence fell for a long moment. "Dawn, then." Mirayla's voice was hardly more than a whisper. "I'll come wake you. We'll leave in secret. I'll get the horses out tonight somehow."

  Cree smiled. "Leave that to me."

  Return to Contents

  * * *

  Chapter Nine

  He threw his pack on the bed and crept to the door. Dawn was still a long way off, but he did not plan on sleeping. He poked his head out the door. A light burned in Reorden's study, and Cree assumed his father must still be awake. He slipped out the door and turned in the opposite direction of the light.

  The hallways were deserted, yet he stuck to the shadows, and even then he could still feel eyes upon him. He shivered and trotted down a staircase to the stable door. He opened the door and stepped inside. Welcome scents of hay, dust and horse tickled his nostrils. He smiled. "Windchaser." He walked to the stallion's stall. "Come on, we're going to leave early tomorrow, and we don't want to be seen." He led the horse from his stall and saddled him. "There, now let's get Mirayla's." The only other horse besides Benjamin's gelding was a dapple mare. Cree led her from the stall.

  "You might as well saddle the gelding, too."

  Cree jumped and peeked over the mare's back at Benjamin. "You're coming?"

  "I see no reason to stay here. I'm in your debt, and I have other reasons."

  "You don't owe me anything, Benjamin. I did what anyone else would have, that's all. You don't have to follow me." He pulled the cinch tight.

  "What any decent person would have done, eh? I'll accept that. But still I have other reasons for coming. The mountains are probably nearly impassable, for one."

  "Somehow, I don't think you would let a little snow and ice stand in your way. What's your hidden motive, and don't tell me nothing?"

  "Isn't it obvious? You and Mirayla, of course. The moment I saw the two of you together, I knew you were destined for each other." He flashed Cree a grin.

  Cree groaned. "I didn't know playing matchmaker was a prerequisite for working in a smithy." He flung the saddle on the gelding's back.
>
  "It isn't, but I do so love to see happy endings."

  Cree rolled his eyes and pulled the cinch tight. "Since you're so eager for a happy ending, you can help me. We're taking the horses to a hostelry. They'll keep them till dawn."

  "Why do you need my help?"

  Cree arched an eyebrow and smiled. "They won't recognize you."

  "Oh." Benjamin took the reins. "Lead the way then."

  ~*~

  Cree sat on his bed and watched the sky grow brighter. He checked his pack one last time and stood. Mirayla should be here soon. He paced a little, stopping to watch the sun rise on the horizon. At least I hope she comes soon. What if Sarana--? A knock on the door interrupted his thought. He shouldered the pack and opened the door, smiling when he saw Mirayla.

  She arched a brow. "I'm surprised I didn't have to wake you."

  "I didn't sleep. I wouldn't have been able to anyway."

  "In that case, let's go get the horses and --"

  "We've got to stop for Benjamin. He's coming with us."

  She frowned. "He is?"

  Cree nodded. "I saw him last night when I took care of the horses."

  "Come on, then." She glanced down the hall. "His room's this way."

  Benjamin was waiting for them when they knocked on his door. "On time, Mac Torol, that's amazing."

  Cree rolled his eyes. "I didn't sleep. Come on, let's get the horses. You've got the chits?"

  Benjamin nodded. "Of course." He hoisted two bulging packs. At Cree's raised eyebrow, he smiled. "I stocked up. You should always be prepared."

  Cree chuckled and led the way from the house. They made their way to hostelry where their horses waited, already saddled.

  "South gate." Cree nodded toward a man coming through the gate with a cartload of squash. "It's unguarded."

  Benjamin scratched his beard and grunted. "Don't you think you're carrying this a little--"

  "We don't want to be noticed. We'll circle around to the main road."

  They led the horses through the gate and mounted just outside the city wall. Windchaser snorted and fought at the bit as Mirayla drew close with her mare. "Easy boy." Cree patted the stallion's neck until the horse calmed.