“You want me to leash myself to a Shadow Weaver? Right. No harm could come from that,” said Lucy sarcastically.
“Don’t be stupid,” Ishalla admonished. “I want you to leash yourself to a few of the horses. That way, you will be apprised of their movements. Hopefully, nothing will sense what you have done.”
That seemed more practical to Lucy. She should have assumed Ishalla would not want her connected to a Shadow Weaver. Even though she had spent more time with Ishalla, Lucy reminded herself not to get too comfortable in her presence. Ishalla was powerful, perhaps a goddess, and willing to help her. She needed to keep her mouth shut and pay attention. Snide comments had no place here unless Ishalla made them.
Ishalla explained how a leash worked. Pretty much the way it sounded. You could feel when a leash was taut or slack. You could figure out the amount of slack in the leash and judge how close the army was. You could sense if the leash veered north or south. Lucy practiced by connecting herself to Ishalla. They walked around the room so Lucy could experience how it worked and felt. Ishalla showed her how to put markers on the leash. That way, when she picked up the slack and came to a marker, she would know that Ishalla was two feet closer than before and pulling to the left. Once she was leashed to a horse, it would give her an idea of how close the army was, their momentum, and where they were going to cross the Karrenna mountains.
“I think you have the idea,” said Ishalla. She pointed to a basin full of water. “Now, scry for the Shadow Weaver’s horses.”
Lucy went to the basin, focused, and made her arm gesture as she released her power. She was getting better at doing this. The Shadow Weaver’s keep appeared before them. Lucy moved the picture until they were in the courtyard by the blacksmiths where horses were being fitted for new shoes.
“Those will do,” Ishalla said. “They aren’t getting new shoes to frolic and fatten up in a lush pasture.”
Lucy nodded. She didn’t remember seeing any pastures in the mists. Where had all the horses come from? Lucy sensed Ishalla’s comment was rhetorical. Ishalla would not appreciate Lucy’s questions on the availability of herds and fodder. They were not worried about where the horses came from right now so much as leashing to them. So, Lucy kept her mouth shut and instead concentrated on trying to leash herself to a horse through a scrying picture. It was more difficult than attaching on to the person next to you. The concepts involved were both basic and obscure. The first two attempts, she failed. Ishalla didn’t comment but simply waited, so Lucy kept trying. The third time worked. She attached herself to two other horses as well. One horse didn’t seem like enough. What if it got sick or lame at the last minute and was left behind.
“What if they go out on a scouting mission?” asked Lucy.
“At this distance, I’m not sure you will feel the movement of the couple of miles they are likely to scout. I don’t think a Shadow Weaver will worry about anything in the mists finding them. Why scout where you feel secure?”
Again, it was an idea that was much easier with an eight foot leash and a couple feet worth of movement. At least her meetings with Ishalla were never boring. She would have preferred the shape changing lesson, but there was always next time. Or she could try it on her own, with Justin of course, in case she messed up in the middle. Once Ishalla was satisfied with Lucy’s work, she continued to study the picture in the basin. She did not ask Lucy to move the picture. Lucy wondered what she was seeing, looking for, sensing, or pondering.
“Just like the Rav left a mark on you, Shadow Weavers leave marks on the people they influence. They also leave their marks on their plots. If you can learn to see or sense these, it would help you greatly,” said Ishalla. “Look closely at the smith. What do your magical senses see?”
Lucy studied the man. She understood the benefit of what Ishalla was hinting at, but what was she was supposed to see? The smith was young, no older than Lucy. His long dark hair was tied back; sweaty tendrils escaped and fell in his eyes. His bare arms, muscled, strong, and covered in old burn scars worked with skilled rhythm as he shoed the horse. Lucy continued to study him. She watched his steady breathing, the practiced way his coal dusted hands trimmed the hoof. She started to match his breathing. Then, for a moment, her vision seemed to blur and become sharper at the same time. She could see faint, red and black tendrils leading from his head and his heart behind him to the castle.
“There they are!” Lucy exclaimed. “Like a leash leading to the master. They are very faint.”
“Yes, they are. He is only a smith after all. He is paid to work and likes his profession. He is committed more to his art than to the evil his work may one day create. In individuals more involved in the mission, the ties would be stronger. I wanted to know if you could find weak ties, because they are probably what you will find on this side of the mountains.”
“Can I cut them?” wondered Lucy.
“I see no harm in trying with the smith. The ties are weak enough that it shouldn’t hurt him or alert the Shadow Weaver. If the ties were stronger or the distance between the two greater, I would recommend against it. It could hurt one and alert the other. It is difficult at a distance through a scrying.”
Lucy was determined to try. Besides, what better time than when she was safe with Ishalla? She had tutelage and protection. Lucy studied the smith again, looking for the links. This time, they were easier to see. She thought about the best way to go about it, wondering how tight the threads were. She knew they were faint, but if they were taut and she cut them, there would be some kind of kick back in both directions. She did not want to hurt the smith or be sensed by the Shadow Weaver. She thought of the Ravs. Was there a way to unravel the thread and lay it gently on the ground? The Shadow Weaver should not notice unless he paid special attention to the smith and Lucy guessed he had more important things on his mind. She tried to study the thread to his heart and gently pulled in the right places. It slid softly to the ground. She did the same with the thread to his mind. The smith paused in his work to stretch, a small smile crossing his face momentarily, and he continued his work.
“Perfectly done,” commented Ishalla. “Are you sure you haven’t learned anything from the Ravs?”
“I’m sure,” affirmed Lucy, “but I was thinking about them when I tried to unravel the threads rather than cut them,” she admitted sheepishly.
“Periodically, study those around you. Make sure you don’t see any of those threads. If you do, do what you did here. Unravel them. Hopefully, it will help.”
“Thank you,” said Lucy. She always learned so much at these visits, but sensed this one was at an end.
“Sleep well, and stay balanced,” said Ishalla as her voice and the waterfall faded away.
Chapter 23
“Ma-ya-ya-ya. Ma-ya-ya-ya,” came cheeping from the windowsill.
Maya turned her head to the window as a chickadee landed there. Maya had been thinking about too many things and welcomed the distraction.
“How are you?” she inquired politely.
“Well. I have a message-age-age-age from Justin-in-in-in.”
“Good,” said Maya with relief. If he could send a message, he was alive. That was positive, considering his possible location.
“They are fine-ne-ne-ne. Suspicions were right-t-t-t. They are going-ing-ing-ing to the Elves. Then coming-ing-ing-ing here.”
“Is that all?”
“That is all that was sent-ent-ent-ent.”
“It seems rather cryptic. I wonder why they are going to the Elves?”
The bird cocked her head in a way that implied a shrug.
“The bird with the message-age-age-age sensed secrecy was important. Perhaps an explanation-ion-ion-ion too long was required-ed-ed-ed.”
“You are probably right. Thank you very much.”
“Indeed-de-de-de.”
Maya went in search of Joss with Carr trailing a few feet behind. It wasn’t much news, but it was more than they had yesterday. At least it conf
irmed their suspicions that something was going on. Now, they needed to wait for Justin to show up and explain what that something was. She found Joss at the practice grounds. He wasn’t sparring but watching the new archery recruits shoot. He heard her approaching and turned his attention her way. When he saw it was her, his face lit up with a smile she couldn’t help answering.
“How are they doing?” asked Maya in reference to the archers.
“Not bad. It always takes longer to train a good archer than to train recruits on other weapons demanding less dexterity,” Joss explained. “Many recruits prefer learning how to use a sword. We might need all the swordsmen we can get, so it’s hard to argue with their choice. Besides, almost anyone can swing a sword or learn how to use one. It is more difficult to learn how to accurately shoot a bow.”
The instructor gave them a break, and Maya watched as they pulled off their helms. To her surprise, six of the eight archers were female.
“Since they will be in a battle rather than a friendly competition, we have them learn to shoot with the limited visibility of a helm. They can perfect their skills without one later,” explained Joss.
“How are the women doing?”
“Really well. We have two sets we are working with. The other class is a week further along. There are four women in that group of eight. They are determined to learn at least as quickly as their male counterparts and thus are doing better.”
“I’m glad you gave them a chance,” said Maya.
“So am I. That’s ten more archers than we would otherwise have, and these look promising. What brings you here? Miss me?” Joss grinned.
“Message from Justin,” replied Maya.
“Not the best reason to seek me out,” Joss joked, “but it will have to do.”
“They are out of the mists and on their way to Elves. Then they will come here. He says our suspicions are correct, so you may very well need those bow women.”
“Our suspicions are correct? What does he mean by that? Why go to the Elves first?”
“I have no idea what it all means, but I assume we continue preparing for war. Obviously seeing the Elves is important or he wouldn’t go there first. We need to wait for him to explain.”
“I’m not getting a warm, fuzzy feeling about this,” murmured Joss.
Maya laughed. “I don’t think Justin deals much with warm and fuzzy unless Lucy talks him into a pet.”
“What would Lucy do with a pet?”
Maya shrugged.
“How are your healing sessions with the locals going?” asked Joss, changing the subject.
“Admirably. On the days we are busy, they get a lot of practical experience. On slow days, we work on brewing helpful and necessary potions for the possible approaching battle. A stockpile of potions won’t go bad if they don’t get used right away.”
“Like the ones you made last time?”
“Sort of. We have more time so we can brew in quantity and more specifically. We can create potions that take days, even weeks, to mature rather than ones that are ready in hours. Right now, I have a number of various useful potions aging. I have a potion to help knit bones back together. Set the bone, take the potion, and it will be as good as new in two days.”
“Two days?” questioned Joss skeptically.
“Yes. The girls watched it work on a man whose leg had been broken while fixing a wagon. It’s impressive stuff.”
“A soldier with a broken arm could return to battle in two days rather than being crippled for life if it heals wrong?” asked Joss.
“Absolutely,” assured Maya. “Justin won’t have to waste time and energy healing breaks. He makes sure they are set correctly, we administer the potion, and he moves on to more life-threatening injuries. If his magical skills are needed to fight rather than heal, we still have options.”
“Wonderful,” said Joss, impressed. “What else do you have?”
“We have one that helps restore the brain after a concussion or head injury. Rest is best and still needed when it comes to heads, but this should ensure against permanent damage. Again, we have the antiseptic one. The girls have been using that one on open wounds and are impressed. I have one that will find internal bleeding and patch up the holes; unless they’re too severe. I have one that will heal punctured lungs; very useful for arrow wounds.”
“Do you have one that regrows limbs?”
“No,” said Maya, shaking her head. “No such potion exists. I don’t think Justin or Lucy can do it either. I think they were talking about trying to learn how to regrow limbs, but I don’t think they ever got around to it.”
“Remind me to ask them about that,” said Joss. “I heard a rumor there are fewer infant deaths than normal for this time of year. Do you have anything to do with that?”
“Hopefully. I’ve taught them a healing song to reduce fever and infection. It won’t cure anything major, but so often with babies little things can become severe. A small cough can become pneumonia. If we can cure it before it becomes a problem...”
“Does it work if the mothers don’t have any magical power?”
“The power is in the words and melody. If they have some power or potential, it will amplify the song’s ability to heal. Having my women teach it to their friends and children will spread it around quicker. There are women I will never see, some with power they’ve never used, who will try the song. Reaching them is the key to a healthier community as a whole. In a few years, the song will just be something they sing automatically while rocking a baby rather than considered special magic. That’s when it really becomes useful. Next session, I will teach them a song for coughs. It might not be necessary now, but come winter, it will be indispensable.”
“I wholeheartedly approve,” said Joss. “You make it sound like you might not be here next winter.”
“I wasn’t here last winter. I could be anywhere next winter,” said Maya with a shrug.
“I think you should stay.”
“Of course you do,” Maya smiled. The smile faded as she asked, “Do you feel the sense of menace hanging over this place? I can’t tell where it is coming from or what it portends. It feels like a storm is about to break, but there isn’t a cloud in the sky. I keep waiting for something, and I don’t know what it is. I wish Justin were here. He would know what is happening or what to do.”
“You can’t brew up a potion to find out?”
“No, at least, not that I know of. I’m excellent at following instructions for a potion. I can fiddle with one to improve it. I can make up a potion for a specific practical purpose. For instance, I could improvise a potion for a sickness or disease I haven’t seen before based on the symptoms. I can create an antidote if I know what someone is poisoned with. A potion to observe someone is too obscure for me. A potion to figure out how to observe something I can’t identify…that’s beyond me, too.”
“Do you think what they’ve found in the mists has anything to do with why people are trying to kill us?”
“I think it’s more than that, but I can’t be sure. It feels like it has a magical undertone, but magic like that is not my specialty. I can hear when people are lying, light candles, and do small spells. Unheard and unseen magic…” Maya trailed off and shrugged.
“At least we know they are safe and out of the mists. They will return soon and then they can figure out the menace and how to dispel it, along with everything else,” said Joss, trying to be comforting. “I feel it, too. A sense of dread and the need to look over my shoulder even though there is nothing there.”
They stood together, looking down onto the sprawling streets filled with busy people going about their usual, daily tasks. People had seemed content with Joss’s reign so far. He had cut taxes on local goods and raised them on incoming ones. He encouraged specialty shops for exports and fixed up the local schools, encouraging women to attend as well. The city was starting to thrive. Despite all that, somewhere down there among the bustling crowds, someone wanted to kill the
m. It was not a comforting thought.
Chapter 24
Lucy was sitting in a garden at the Elven capital. Their arrival had been greeted with reserve and speculation. They explained their findings, theories, and hunches to the council. Lucy had displayed her farseeing abilities and been tested. Now, the council debated. She was pretty sure the council believed their information, but she was unsure what their course of action would be. Some seemed in favor of banding together and using Lerramorre as a staging area since preparations had already begun there. Others seemed in favor of defending only their borders and letting the rest of Kinowenn fend for itself. Everyone seemed to have a different idea. The Elves couldn’t even agree on the time it would take the Shadow army to reach Lerramorre. Some estimated as much as two months to travel through the mists, over the mountains, and to Lerramorre. Others argued most of the army was made up of creatures with different travel and stamina considerations and could make the journey in as little as two weeks. No one knew what abilities the Shadow Weaver might have or use to speed up the army.
Lucy and her friends had been asked to leave while the council debated. Everyone else had something to do. Tish and Ferra were still with the council, arguing their cause. Fallon said her piece to the council and then wanted to talk to Justin and Taran. Barralor had taken Gavin to train with a group of Elves. Fallon wanted Lucy to be on hand if needed, so she had been taken to a garden and asked to wait. Justin hadn’t seemed terribly happy to learn she had leashed herself to the enemy, even if it was only to their horses. She was worried that might become an argument later. The Elves seemed more intrigued than anything else, especially about her relationship with Ishalla. She was sure they would want to talk to her later as well. Lucy sighed.
It was peaceful in the garden. Even the rocks were comfortable. It seemed all Elven gardens were designed for that purpose. Everything seemed to flow into everything else. Lucy recognized hostas, lilies, phlox, geraniums, lilacs, weigelas, ivy, roses, azaleas, gilia rubra, and marigolds. There were also many others she did not have names for. Among the flowers there were stepping stones, borders, paths, streams, and archways. Remembering she was often too absorbed with her own thoughts to notice her surroundings, Lucy studied the garden more closely. She finally figured out what had been nagging her as odd, there were no weeds. She wondered if perhaps weeds did not dare grow in an Elven garden.
Ravs Are Rarely Wrong: The Kinowenn Chronicles Vol III Page 17
