The Blue Flame [Book 1 of the Daradawn Series]

by Barbara M. Hodges

  The first Ru'taha she struck jarred her arm to the bone. It jerked, turned to face her, and the knight it fought removed its head from its neck.

  She continued her push across the anteroom to the doors leading into the hall. She sprinted through them and then stopped. Distant shouting and the muted clash of metal came from down the corridor. She turned toward the sound, then shook her head. Kelsey first.

  * * * *

  Mage globes cast shadows against the stone walls of the narrow passage of spiraling stairs. The strident sound of steel against steel grated against her ears as the raging pain in her side forced her to stop and lean her forehead against the stairway's cool stone. The pain tolerable again, she held her sword before her and continued her headlong dash, taking the steps two at a time.

  The clashing grew louder and she heard Kelsey scream, “I'll take you to hell with me."

  Regan rounded the last curve in the tower stairwell. Framed in the tower's hall doorway was Kelsey—and between them were ten Ru'taha.

  Beneath the mage globes’ light, Kelsey's slashing sword glinted like quicksilver. Regan opened her mouth to call her sister's name, but Kelsey leapt backwards into the hall and the Ru'taha surged through after her.

  Fear turning her backbone into an icicle, Regan jumped the remaining steps and bolted through the door. Kelsey lunged and parried as the Ru'taha forced her back. Regan smothered the frantic cry of reassurance to her sister. Get inside the bedroom, Kelsey. Give me a chance to use the Power.

  Kelsey lunged forward and a Ru'taha fell to the floor. The one behind kicked the fallen form out of its path. The Ru'taha's mace swung up and then down. Kelsey ducked, then sprinted through the tower bedroom's door and slammed it behind her.

  Regan pulled the Power up and sent it crackling from her fingertips. The bolt struck the back of the nearest Ru'taha with a blue-white explosion. It dropped its club and reached back with both hands to beat against the blue flames. The flames jumped to its hands, then flowed like liquid death up its arms. The Ru'taha twisted and crashed into another. The fire leapt to it and, like a stack of dominos falling, moved on to the next.

  Behind the flaming Ru'tahas, the door caved in with a cracking snap. Through the flickering wall of blue, Regan saw two Ru'taha rush into Kelsey's room. She jumped forward, then stopped as a wave of heat blasted her. Kelsey screamed.

  Brandishing her sword, Regan dashed into the flames. They danced around her in a blue aura. Her body glowed with renewed strength, and then she was through. Backed against the ward-robe stood Kelsey, her shirt just below her breasts bathed in her blood. She lunged forward, and the two remaining Ru'taha dropped back. They separated, and one darted toward her and quickly retreated. Kelsey laughed hoarsely. “Do you think to draw me out so easily?"

  Kelsey's gaze flicked over the shoulder of the Ru'taha and met Regan's eyes. Suddenly both Ru'taha charged and Kelsey jumped to the side and rolled across the width of the bed. The Ru'taha maces crashed into marble flooring and tiny cracks snaked toward Regan's feet. She saw Kelsey stagger and catch at the end table to steady herself.

  One Ru'taha backed and circled the bed, his head never turning from Kelsey, while the other climbed into its middle, kicking pillows aside as it inched forward. Kelsey fixed her eyes on Regan. Do it. Do it now, they commanded.

  Regan concentrated on the Ru'taha in the middle of the bed. Blue arced, catching it in the throat. It flew back against the bed's headboard. The other Ru'taha turned to face Regan, and Kelsey thrust her sword. The Ru'taha jerked, and Regan saw the blade's gleaming end exit the Ru'taha's stomach. Its gaze flickered over Regan, then it dropped, first to its knees, then face forward onto the marbled floor. Looking down, Kelsey smiled, then pitched sideways across the bed.

  Regan ran to her. With fumbling fingers, she lifted Kelsey's shirt. She felt the blood leave her face at the red flow coming from the raw gash just below Kelsey's right breast. Cold engulfed her as she used her sword to slash the sheet and wad it against her sister's skin. By the time she ripped another piece free, blood soaked the first. Her body trembling, she tossed it aside and applied a fresh one. “Please, God, please.” Then hands gripped her shoulders and lifted her aside.

  "Let them take her, Regan,” Peter said into her ear. “They can do more for her in the healing room."

  Regan watched stonily as liveried servants, some as blood-drenched as Kelsey, picked up her sister and hurried with her out the door.

  Chapter 25

  "REGAN.” BEN'S RICH, honeyed voice flowed to where she stood encased in a shroud of gray fog. “Can you hear me? It's time to wake up."

  Regan revolved slowly in the thick mist. “Ben? I'm not asleep. Where are you?"

  "Let her sleep,” a gruff voice ordered.

  She whirled and faced the direction it came from. “No, I want to wake up!"

  "I wish we could, but we need her,” a lilting female voice said.

  Why can't they hear me? Regan wondered. She reached out, grabbed a handful of the mist and cupped it in her palm; it was cool, light, and translucent, like the fog that bathed San Francisco almost every night in early spring. Regan inhaled deeply, but there was no salt tang of the sea. She took another breath and frowned. This air contained no smells at all. She heard a soft whimper and felt a cold nose press against the back of her leg. Maggie? She looked down, but the little dog was not there. Tears formed and ran down her cheeks. She reached up and touched her wet face. Why do thoughts of Maggie make me cry?

  "She's been out too long. Why doesn't she wake?” It was Ben's worry-filled voice.

  I have to find Ben. If only this fog would lift.

  Regan moved through the mist. Shadowy figures teased the corners of her eyes, but when she turned there was no one there. Her trembling knees forced her to halt. Why am I so tired, and where am I? Why can't I remember?

  The mist parted and revealed a park bench. She hurried to it before it was enveloped again and plopped down. A break. Just a small one. Then I'll find Ben. Her eyelids drooped, then closed.

  "Regan, don't go to sleep. I need you.” Kelsey's voice snapped Regan's eyes open. She jumped up from the bench and spun around in a circle, her eyes searching the fog. “Kelsey, where are you?"

  "Find me, Regan, find me soon."

  "I don't know which way to go. Give me a hint, like when we were kids.” Out of the corner of her eye, Regan saw a blue pulse of light. She faced it, expecting it to vanish, but it remained. She stood and walked toward it.

  The gray fog turned wispy as she neared the light. She looked down. She could see a path of closely fitted stones now, their black surfaces glinting with dampness. The path ended at a pulsing, doorway of light.

  "Regan, come back to us.” Ben's voice urged from the middle of the whiteness. She stepped into the brightness and saw a shadowy figure on the other side of the doorway. Joy coursed through her. “I'm coming Ben. I'm coming."

  * * * *

  Regan opened her eyes. Ben's drawn face filled her vision. “Ben,” she whispered, “thanks for coming for me.” He gave her a puzzled smile, then drew back. Behind Ben, Margeaux came into view. “Margeaux, it's so good to see you."

  A throat cleared at Regan's side and she turned her head. Angus sat beside her on a stool and on his lap was Maggie, her middle wrapped in bandages from front legs to back. “Maggie, what happened to you?” Then memory burst through the dam of gray fog: scenes of blood, death and Kelsey swamped her. She bolted upright to a sitting position. “Kelsey?” Ben's brown eyes darkened to black.

  Margeaux circled Ben and sat on the edge of Regan's bed, her eyes full of pain. “Peter is with your sister."

  Regan's voice cracked and she swallowed. “She's all right?"

  Ben and Margeaux exchanged a quick glance and icy shock blurred Regan's vision. She blinked and forced her eyes to refocus. “Tell me."

  Ben leaned over and clasped Regan's hand. “It's not good."

  Her fingers tightened around his. “Is she dead?"
/>   "She still lives."

  "But?” Regan said.

  He shook his head. “We've done all we can."

  "No,” Regan cried, kicking her blanket aside. “I'm not going to lose her again so soon! Where is she?"

  "Your extended use of the Power almost took you from us. You must regain your strength,” Margeaux said, grasping Regan's shoulders.

  Regan twisted free of Margeaux's hands. “Take me to my sister. She needs me. She called me."

  Margeaux frowned. “It was only a dream. Kelsey hasn't regained consciousness since she was brought to me."

  "Take me, or I will find her myself,” Regan said calmly.

  Margeaux shook her head. “The queen left orders for when you woke. She is to be summoned at once."

  Regan glared at Margeaux. “Tell me, healer, if my sister is dying, why aren't you with her?"

  She heard Ben's shocked intake of breath. “Margeaux has been by Kelsey's side since she was brought to us. She only left to come check on you."

  Regan said nothing, just held Margeaux's gaze for a long moment, then swung her legs from the bed and stood. The room tilted and she dug her fingernails into the palms of her hands. She took one shaky step, then looked beseechingly at Ben.

  He sighed, stepped forward and placed an arm around her shoulders. Her eyes mutely thanked him. Ben smiled wryly and steered her toward the door.

  Margeaux reached a hand out toward them. “What are you doing?"

  "I'm taking her to Kelsey."

  "But the queen said..."

  "Tessa can wait; Kelsey may not."

  Regan swayed against him.

  * * * *

  Ben guided Regan along a hallway of pearl-gray polished stone. Mage globes hovered overhead, bathing the ivory walls with a soft glow. Doors lined each side of the hallway, some ajar. A child's voice cried out in pain as they passed one door. Regan pulled away from Ben's supporting arm and looked in.

  In the room, makeshift pallets of straw and blankets stretched from wall to wall. White-clothed figures, male and female alike, scurried down narrow aisles between the rows of cots. At the far end of the room, a large cauldron hung from a tripod. Flames licked the black, rounded bottom of the cauldron, and white clouds of steam drifted upward. The pungent, spicy odor of herbs tickled Regan's nose. More figures pulled lengths of dripping cloth from the herb-steeped water. Juggling them gingerly, they dashed to waiting patients.

  Regan turned her gaze to Ben. “How long was I out?"

  "It's early morning."

  "How many dead?"

  "Not as many as could have been, thanks to Maggie's warning."

  She frowned. “How many?"

  "Two hundred and fifty at last count."

  "Women and children too?” she asked. Ben nodded.

  "What about the vipers and Ru'taha?"

  "All inside the inner gates were destroyed. Somehow the gate closed and they couldn't escape when Dirkk recalled them."

  She smiled slightly. “How many remain outside?"

  He shrugged. “There's no way to know."

  "But enough to still be a threat?"

  Ben met her green eyes briefly, then looked away, grabbed her elbow firmly and led her down the hall.

  * * * *

  They stopped before a closed door. Regan heard Peter's muffled voice coming from inside. She took a deep breath to still the tremor in her stomach, then opened the door and walked in.

  Peter leaned over a figure in a bed. All Regan could see was a mound beneath the coverings. She pushed away from Ben and made her way to the bed.

  Peter never turned at her approach. She stood behind him for a moment, stilled her racing heart, then touched his shoulder. He straightened with a quick jerk, turned and met her eyes. Her gaze questioned him and he shook his head. She felt her knees start to buckle and reached a hand out blindly. Peter's arm circled her shoulders. He guided her to a chair close to the bed and eased her into its soft cushioned seat.

  Kelsey's blonde hair fanned out across a bleached white cotton pillow, her face the same pallid hue except for dark circles that looked like fresh bruises under each eye. Regan reached and took Kelsey's hand in hers; it lay still and lifeless in her palm. I've never seen Kelsey's hands idle. They were always moving, focusing camera lenses, adjusting light sources, or just picking at a loose thread on the hem of her T-shirt.

  "Hey, sleepy head, it's time to open those baby blues,” Regan whispered into her sister's ear. Kelsey's eyelids twitched. “What demon is chasing you? Just tell me and I'll chase it away. Just like...” Regan's voice broke. “...just like I used to do when we were kids."

  Regan felt Peter place his hand on her arm. “Regan, I have been talking to her since they brought her here. Wherever she is, I don't think she can hear us."

  Regan closed her hand around Kelsey's. “Of course she can hear us. Can't you, sis? She's just tired. I'll tell you what; you don't have to talk, just squeeze my hand. Can do that?"

  Waiting silence filled the room. Regan could feel Ben and Peter's gazes boring into the hand holding Kelsey's. Her sister's long, pale fingers remained still.

  Regan leaned toward Kelsey. “Kelsey Emerald, you're not giving up. I won't let you. You're not going to leave me, not again. We're going to walk through that rift together, and I'm going to show you my Victorian, and my rose garden circled by the most beautiful brick wall in the world. Now you wake up or I swear I'll spit into the palm of your hand."

  "Kelsey Emerald? Spit?” Regan heard from behind her. She turned in the chair. “She hates her middle name. Promise me you won't tell her I told you when she wakes up."

  "Regan..."

  "Promise me. Both of you."

  Ben and Peter exchanged glances, then nodded.

  "She won't hear it from me,” Ben said. “What's this about spit?"

  Regan smiled. “We played a lot of sports when we were growing up. Always had bets going on about who would win what.” Regan paused, stared over their heads for a moment and continued. “Ben, remember how you'd spit in your hand to seal a bet when you were a kid?"

  With a small smile, Ben nodded.

  "Well, Kelsey would never shake hands with anybody who'd spit in their hand. She really hated it.” Regan blinked back tears and turned to face her sister again. “She used to pretend she was asleep all the time when she didn't want to do something. I always threatened to spit in her hand.” Regan leaned close to her sister. “I'll do it, Kelsey. I really will."

  "You will really do what?"

  Regan turned and saw Queen Tessa framed in the doorway.

  "It is a family secret,” Peter said.

  Tessa stared at each face, then shrugged and entered the room. “How is she?"

  "She's fine. She just needs a little more sleep,” Regan said before Ben or Peter could answer. She saw Peter shake his head and anger rippled through her.

  Tessa's eyes closed and a soft sigh escaped her lips. Then she opened them and fastened her brown gaze on Regan. “Weren't you told that we needed to speak as soon as you regained consciousness?"

  "I was told."

  Tessa frowned. “Then why..."

  Regan rose from the chair. “I think that would be obvious."

  "What can be done for your sister has been done. Our war with Dirkk is not finished. I need you to..."

  Regan stared at the queen. “I don't care what you need. This is not my war, or Kelsey's, and look what it's done to her."

  Peter grabbed Regan's arm. “Regan."

  Glaring at him, she jerked her arm free. “If my sister dies, it will be because of your war."

  Tessa's brown eyes blazed a warning and she straightened to her full height. “Don't you tell me this isn't Kelsey's war. For seven years, she's stood at the burial site of men, held their weeping widows and children in her arms. For seven long years of hell, she's stood in the middle of battlefields surrounded by the dying and fought until her legs gave out from under her."

  "And for what? Look what i
t's gotten her.” Regan's tone was bitter.

  Tessa drew back as if she had been slapped. The women eyed each other like two just introduced cats. Taut silence stretched between them.

  "Regan?"

  "What?” Regan snapped, and whirled around.

  Kelsey had pushed herself up to a sitting position in the bed. “I wish you'd quit yelling."

  Regan stared wide-eyed, then rushed to Kelsey's side. “I knew you wouldn't leave me."

  The corner of Kelsey's mouth lifted in a lopsided grin. “I couldn't let you spit in my hand, could I?"

  Regan stared dumbfounded at her sister, then buried her face in Kelsey's lap and burst into sobs.

  "It's okay,” she heard Kelsey say, and felt a hand ruffle her hair. “Would you leave us for a moment?"

  Regan dimly heard the movement of feet and the click of the door latching. The caress on her head turned into a sharp tug on her braid. Regan turned her head in her sister's lap. “Ouch!"

  Kelsey leaned forward from the pillow and glared down at her. “Don't you ever speak like that to Queen Tessa again. She's the best friend I've had for the past seven years."

  Startled, Regan lifted her head and pulled back from her sister. “Sorry."

  Kelsey fell back against the pillow. Regan jumped to her feet and leaned over her. “Are you okay?"

  Kelsey waved her away irritably. “I'm as good as I can expect to be."

  "Do you want me to get Margeaux?"

  "No, I'm sure she's done nothing but hover over me for hours."

  Regan felt her face heat.

  "What's the red face for?” Kelsey asked, then shook her head before Regan could speak. “Never mind. I don't think I want to know.” Kelsey reached behind her head and fumbled with her pillow.

  "Let me.” Regan pulled the pillow up higher.

  Kelsey grabbed Regan's hand. “I want you to listen to what the queen says and, if it's possible, do as she asks."

  "I think we've done enough for Tessa and Daradawn..."

  "If it wasn't for Tessa you would have never found me again."