Victoria had uprooted one of her thick legs, but now the rooted leg shattered like a tree felled in a windstorm. She toppled in a long, slow collapse as her branches tangled in the encroaching trees. Vines whipped up as if to cushion her fall, but instead turned brown and withered.
Around the glade, the supercharged jungle that had swarmed across the open terrain began to shrivel. Trees collapsed, rotted, fell apart. All the extra life—the enforced growth and tortured fecundity that never should have existed—dissolved.
Nicci turned away. The corpse of Life’s Mistress had already rotted into mulch, returning to the soil. The balance of magic would be restored and the unnatural forest would die back to its former levels, its natural levels.
Nicci had accomplished what she needed to. She had completed her mission, and she had paid the price. There was no reason for her to stay any longer.
She strode back toward Cliffwall as the seething jungle collapsed around her. She didn’t give it a second thought.
CHAPTER 76
By the time Nicci returned to the steep uplift at the edge of the plateau, the unnatural jungle had already begun to retreat, a mere shadow of itself—a proper level of vegetation that did not strain the very foundations of life itself.
She felt no joy over her victory, Thistle’s victory. Nicci had done what was required. Her duty was discharged. She had paid the cost in blood and unexpected love.
She was done.
As the once-burgeoning trees sloughed into rotting vegetation, she saw a dart of movement ahead of her, a tawny shape. Mrra came to join her. Gliding out of the falling trees and collapsing ferns, the sand panther paced alongside, not close enough for Nicci to touch her fur, but she was there, and that was what mattered. Nicci drew strength from their spell bond, and the big cat seemed to need reassurance as well.
When the two reached the sheer mesa wall, Nicci saw that the steep slope had broken and eroded away. The gnarled brown strands of dead vines still clung to the rocks, but Nicci found a way up to the alcoves and the tunnels high above. At the base of the cliff, Mrra let out a low growl, a temporary farewell, and loped off into the foothills. She would be back.
Nicci climbed back up the steep wall, using magic when necessary to move aside crumbling blocks that the aggressive vegetation had broken away from the cliff.
Nathan and Bannon met her as soon as she reentered the tunnels. Crowds from inside Cliffwall also came, excited and amazed. While watching from the alcove windows, they had seen the festering jungle die away.
“We must have a celebration!” someone called.
Nicci didn’t see who spoke, didn’t even bother to turn in the direction of the voice. “Celebrate among yourselves,” she said gruffly. “Do not make me a hero.”
Life’s Mistress was dead, the enemy vanquished, the blight of twisted life now disappearing. Yes, there was good reason to cheer, but Nicci did not feel like rejoicing. Rather, she found a hard core inside her and held on to that.
She would never be Death’s Mistress again. She had left that dark part of her life in the past, and she had promised Richard. She had learned from the terrible things she’d done for Emperor Jagang. Though Thistle’s blood had provided the necessary poison to destroy Life’s Mistress, Nicci herself did not want to be that vulnerable.
Never again. She had saved the world, and that was enough. Even if Thistle could never see it, the girl would have her beautiful valley back.
The Cliffwall scholars were unsettled by Nicci’s response, and Nathan looked at her with a concerned expression. He gave her a slow nod, then lowered his voice. “You don’t need to dance and sing, Sorceress, but you did defeat Victoria and stop that terrible threat. You can feel satisfied.”
She looked at him for a long moment and then said, “I would rather not allow myself to feel anything at all.”
* * *
At Nicci’s suggestion, although it was obvious to anyone who considered it, they buried the girl out on the edge of the valley where the fresh vegetation, the healthy shrubs and plants, had begun to grow again.
It was a somber procession as they wrapped Thistle’s small body in the soft sheepskin rug she had loved so much when she slept on the floor in Nicci’s quarters. Nicci carried the body herself, and although her heart was heavy as a stone, the girl seemed to weigh almost nothing.
Franklin, Gloria, and many of the other remaining memmers and scholars left Cliffwall, emerging along the steep side of the plateau. They walked until they reached a spot just on the foothills overlooking the valley, which Thistle had so longed to see fertile again.
Nicci halted. “This is the place. This the view Thistle would want. From here, she would have been able to see the restoration of life that she made possible.”
As hot tears stung her eyes, Nicci caught a glimpse of Bannon and Nathan, their faces also flooded with grief. Bannon’s hazel eyes welled with unshed tears, and even Nathan, who had seen so much sadness and lost so many people during his centuries of life, was deeply affected by the loss of this one spunky and determined little girl.
“Her spirit can tell the Creator how she would like the valley to be,” Nathan said. “I’m sure she will make herself heard.”
Bannon nodded. “Thistle could be very convincing.” His voice cracked.
Nicci could only nod. She felt so full of words, emotions, and ideas that she wanted to express, but they only simmered within her. Thistle would know. That was all Nicci cared about.
With a gesture from her hand, she released a flow of magic that moved the dirt and rocks on the chosen patch of ground. As she had done at the village of Renda Bay, Nicci created a grave, carving out a perfect, comfortable last bed to embrace Thistle’s remains.
As the scholars watched solemnly, Nicci laid the girl wrapped in the sheepskin into the open grave. “This is as far as you can go with us,” Nicci said. “I know you wanted to travel to see all the new lands we intend to explore, but from here you can watch the valley. I hope it becomes all you ever wanted to see.”
Her arms and shoulders felt stiff, and it was because she had forced such tight control on her muscles to keep herself from trembling. Nicci drew a deep breath. She, Bannon, and Nathan looked down at the wrapped form in the grave. With a gesture, Nicci brought the soft loamy dirt back into place, filling it perfectly, leaving an open patch of naked brown earth on top.
“Should we mark the grave somehow?” Gloria asked. “Is there a stone or a wooden post you’d like us to use?”
Nicci thought of what Thistle had said, how she had laughed at the frivolous but wondrous thought. The girl had grown up without seeing anything of natural beauty, watching her aunt and uncle eke out a living in Verdun Springs, trying to grow stunted plants for food.
“Flowers,” Nicci said. “Plant beautiful flowers. That’s what Thistle would want to mark her grave.”
* * *
Before she and her companions departed again, Nicci called a gathering inside Cliffwall, speaking to the workers, farmers, and canyon dwellers as well as the memmers and scholars. In a stern voice, she said, “We have only been here for a few weeks, but already we have saved the world—twice! Both times the disasters were caused by your own clumsy ignorance. And, oh, the consequences … the price that had to be paid.”
She swept her blue-eyed gaze over the gifted researchers, and they trembled with guilt and shame.
She continued, “You are untrained. Thousands of years ago, your people were entrusted to guard this storehouse of knowledge. Dangerous knowledge. Do not consider it a library, but an armory—all the books and scrolls here are weapons, and you have seen how easily they can be misused.”
“With disastrous results,” Nathan said. “For all my objections to the Sisters and their iron collars, at least they devoted themselves to training new wizards back at the Palace of the Prophets. With the lore stored here, you cannot just willy-nilly dabble with spells as if they were toys.”
Franklin hung his head. “Perha
ps we should devote ourselves only to the work of cataloging, exactly as Simon wanted us to do. That is enough to keep us busy for decades.”
Gloria wiped a small tear from the side of her eye. “The memmers can help to match what we know with the volumes we find on the shelves.” She drew a deep breath, let it out slowly. “But who will teach us?” She looked hopefully at Nicci and Nathan. “Will you stay?”
Nicci shook her head. “We will depart soon. I have my own mission for Lord Rahl, and the wizard has an important destination.” She spoke in a tone of command, the same tone she had used to send tens of thousands of Emperor Jagang’s soldiers off to certain death. “But after we go, you must do one thing for me. An important task.”
Franklin spread his hands, then gave a respectful bow. “Of course, Sorceress. Cliffwall is in your debt.”
“Send emissaries north to D’Hara and tell Lord Rahl about this archive, and about what we have done here. That is knowledge he needs. Once he learns what is here, he will send his own wizards, scholars, experts. They will help you.”
“I’m sure Verna would delight in the challenge,” Nathan said. “Dear spirits, imagine what the Prelate would do with so much unexplored lore! She needs something to do, now that prophecy is gone. She could bring many Sisters with her.” He nodded slowly. “Yes, indeed, you would be in good hands.” He narrowed his eyes and added in a scolding tone, “But in the meantime, no more dabbling with spells.”
Gloria agreed. “We will put in checks and balances to insure that no disaster like Roland or Victoria ever happens again.”
One of the scholars fidgeted, looking at the rest of the uneasy audience. “But how will we find D’Hara?” He was a thin and rabbity young man named Oliver who had a habit of squinting, as if his eyesight had already waned from too much reading by dim candlelight. “I will volunteer to go, to accept the quest … so long as I know where I’m going.”
Nicci had little patience for the details. “Follow the old imperial roads. Head north. Make your way beyond the Phantom Coast to the main port cities of the Old World. Ask about the Lord Rahl.”
“That will be an arduous expedition, Oliver.” Franklin sounded uncertain.
“Yes, it will be,” Nicci said. “And we require it of you. Sometimes you must do things even though they are hard.”
“I will go with Oliver,” said a thin young memmer woman, Peretta, with tight ringlets of dark hair. “Not only is it an important mission, but every person here in Cliffwall, whether memmer or traditional scholar, has a mission to gather knowledge. And what could be a better way to seek knowledge than to explore the rest of the world?” She blinked her large brown eyes.
Oliver smiled and nodded at her. “I will be happy to have you.”
“You’ll both learn much. You’ll be great explorers.” Nathan patted the leather pouch at his side, which still carried his life book. “I will also want Cliffwall scholars to copy the maps I’ve drawn along the way, and take a summary of our expedition so far. The people of D’Hara need to know everything they can of the Old World.”
Franklin looked at the memmers, then at the rest of the scholars, and he gave a confident nod. “Do you think you can do this, Oliver and Peretta? Will you be ambitious enough to undertake this quest?”
Like a slowly exhaled breath, the audience began nodding and talking. Peretta sniffed. “Of course we will.”
Ready to go, Nathan had dressed in fine travel clothes again, his ornate scabbard belted at his waist, his brown cape from Renda Bay, a dark vest and ruffled shirt taken from Cliffwall stores. “After years of reading dusty old legends, some of you must want to become adventurers yourselves.” He laughed. “When you return from D’Hara, you will have earned your own place in history.”
* * *
Before her unexpected death, Mia had found for Nathan an old chart that clearly showed a place marked Kol Adair on the far eastern side of the great valley, over several lines of stark mountains.
Looking at the ancient map, Nathan was concerned at the prospect of crossing over such sheer and jagged crags. “Maybe it won’t be so bad. The cartographer could have exaggerated the extremity of the terrain.”
“We will know when we get there,” Nicci said.
“And we know where we need to go,” Bannon added.
The two men bade farewell to the people of Cliffwall, but Nicci said no good-byes; she simply set off, descending the path to the valley floor. They headed eastward into the now-recovering terrain at a brisk pace. Nicci sensed Mrra following them from a distance, and she acknowledged the sand panther’s presence through their tenuous bond.
They headed into the unknown.
CHAPTER 77
Leaving Cliffwall behind them, they crossed the wide, wounded valley for days before reaching the eastern foothills. The hills rose toward distant and far more rugged mountains that looked like the ridges on a dragon’s spine.
As they traveled, they found the remnants of old roads that had been all but erased by the life-absorbing Roland and by Victoria’s raging fecundity. They crossed terrain where once-thriving towns had been emptied and swallowed up. Now, the uninhabited wilderness was breathtaking in its sheer, empty silence.
Although Nicci didn’t feel like engaging in conversation, the silence and constant walking gave her too much time for internal reflection. There wasn’t a moment when she did not feel the loss of Thistle, but she tried to build up her inner walls and harden the scar. She had lost many people before, others she cared about, especially in the recent battles with Emperor Sulachan and his bloodthirsty, soulless hordes. Cara … Zedd …
Nicci had killed countless people herself. She was familiar with death, untroubled by blood on her hands. Her conscience was not heavy. She tried to convince herself that the orphan girl was just another death.
Just another death …
Topping a sparsely wooded ridge, Nicci, Bannon, and Nathan turned to look behind them. The vast valley now showed patches of healthy green growth and the flowing silver ribbons of streams. But it was neither a madness of life, nor a cracked desolation of death.
Nathan drew a satisfied breath. “You see? That is what we did, Sorceress.”
“It is what we set out to do. Now I’m done with the witch woman’s prediction.” Nicci turned and continued into the hills before she could think about the price they had paid for that achievement.
“Ah, but Sorceress, on such a journey as ours, is one ever truly done with saving the world?”
When they made camp that night, Mrra dragged a mountain-goat carcass into the meadow and dropped it there for their dinner. The sand panther had already fed, and she sat on the fringes of the clearing, watching Bannon cut fresh meat while Nathan built a campfire. “I want to prove I can do this without magic, though the process is certainly a lot less convenient.” He sighed. “Soon, though, I will be whole again.”
They contoured along streams through the hills, picking the best path that would keep them moving into the rising mountains. Since Bannon had grown up on an island and sailed the ocean, he had little instinct for finding a route through hilly terrain. Nicci led the way.
She scanned the rugged landscape and picked a switchbacked path up the slopes, across open parks, then into thick pine forests. As they gained altitude, the trees became sparser, then stunted. After thrashing through thickets of knee-high alpine willows, the three emerged into open windswept tundra with whistling grasses and low cushions of wildflowers. Mrra bounded on the rocks, ranging ahead to chase waddling marmots.
Bannon was out of breath, panting hard. He bent over, resting his palms on his knees. “The trail is steep, and the air is thin.”
Nathan did not commiserate. “I am a thousand years old, my boy, and I’m keeping up with you. Come, Kol Adair is ahead.”
“The air will grow thinner still,” said Nicci. “Our destination is much higher.”
Bannon squinted as the wind whipped his ginger hair like crackling flames around his head. “
When I grew up on Chiriya, I never imagined this.” He looked in curious amazement at the rugged lichen-covered rocks as they picked their way toward a steep pass ahead. “I’ve come so far from that place and from that life, not just in the miles I’ve traveled but in the things we’ve seen and done.” He gave his mentor a wan smile. “All the things you’ve taught me and all the experiences I’ve had, Nathan. Maybe this isn’t the perfect life that I dreamed about, but I am happy with it.”
He turned to Nicci, pressing her for a response. “Do you think I’ll ever see the D’Haran Empire for myself? You’ve told stories about those lands. Could I even meet Lord Rahl someday?”
“D’Hara is a long way from here,” Nicci said, pushing toward the top of the steep ridge ahead. “And we are heading in a different direction.”
Nathan was more encouraging. “Maybe you’ll see it someday, my boy, but why be in a hurry? This world has many lands, many people, and many sights to see.” He smiled and quoted what Red had shown him in the life book: “Future and Fate depend on both the journey and the destination.”
Because the slope was so steep, they stopped to catch their breath before reaching the summit of the pass. Nathan took out the Cliffwall charts, studied them again, and looked back at the mountains they had just crossed. “We should be close to our destination,” he said. “Very close.”
When Nicci set off again, her gaze fixed ahead, Bannon and Nathan hurried after her. Mrra ranged among the rocks, frustrated that the fat, furry marmots always managed to duck into shelter before the cat could catch them. Then one of the animals let out a high-pitched squeal as Mrra killed it for a snack.
The ground was hard and packed under Nicci’s boots while she worked her way up to the pass, leading the way, steeper and steeper. Finally, when she climbed her last steps to the top, the grand vista opened up before her, and even she stopped in her tracks, awestruck.
Death's Mistress--Sister of Darkness Page 50
