A Perilous Power (Arucadi Series Book 5)

by E. Rose Sabin

He jumped and turned to see Miryam come through the woods. She ran to his arms. “Oh, Les, I had the most awful dream, and when I woke and you were gone, I thought …” She sobbed and bent her head to hide her face against his shoulder.

  He held her close. “Shhh. It’s all right. I’m safe and so are you.”

  Gradually her sobs subsided. She looked up. “I’m sorry. I feel foolish, but the dream was so vivid …”

  “It was only a dream. Look, over there. It’s Leila, but I don’t know how she got across the stream. And that owl. I wonder if it could be Veronica.”

  Miryam’s gaze followed his pointing finger. She smiled through her tears. “That’s certainly no ordinary owl. Come with me. The brook is deep here, but I know a place where we can ford it.”

  “Leila, stay where you are, please.” Les .hoped that she could understand. “Miryam and I are coming.”

  Miryam led him back into the woods and along a twisting path from which the brook was no longer visible. He feared that Leila and the owl would disappear before they reached them. They crossed the brook at a narrow spot where stones provided a slippery but passable bridge. Once on the other side, they headed back at a fast trot to where they’d seen Leila.

  To Les’s relief, she was still sitting in front of the owl. The large white bird flapped its wings as they neared but did not fly away. He got onto his knees before it. “Veronica?” Les asked hesitantly.

  The bird’s solemn regard was his only answer.

  Miryam hurried to Leila, sat beside her, and placed her hand on the girl’s forehead. The girl shifted her gaze from the owl and regarded Miryam with a childlike trust.

  Les glanced at them, then turned his attention back to the owl. “Veronica, if it is you, won’t you give me some sign?” he pleaded. “Why are you in that form? Did Dr. Tenney do something to you? Can’t you change to your human form?”

  “Who-ooo-ooo,” said the owl.

  “You’re not really an owl,” Les persisted. “If you were, you would have flown away.”

  Again the bird flapped its wings and said, “Who-ooo-ooo.”

  “Can’t you say anything else?”

  The bird balanced on one foot and stretched the talons of the other, switched feet, and repeated the action.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Les said. “I asked for a sign, but I need something I can understand.”

  “Who-ooo?”

  “That sounds like a question. Maybe you’ve forgotten who you are. But how could that be? Please, Veronica, don’t play games with us.”

  “That isn’t Veronica,” said a voice behind him.

  He turned and saw Leila gazing at him with recognition and intelligence back in her eyes. She pressed one hand over the hand Miryam held clamped to her forehead.

  “Who is it, then?” he asked.

  “I’m not sure,” Leila said. “I think—Did something happen to Peter?”

  Les told her of the struggle in the kitchen, of how Trevor’s attempt to kill Dr. Tenney had led the Adept to appropriate Peter’s unconscious body. He told her of the crushing of the moth.

  Leila shook her head. “So much happened, and I didn’t know. But Veronica would not be easy to kill.”

  “I don’t see how she could have survived. Unless …” Les frowned. “I did see a mouse run past just before Tenney ground the moth into the floorboards.”

  “Aha!” Leila exclaimed. “That’s just what she would do—transfer her consciousness to something else. No doubt she escaped and is now back in her own form.”

  “But where is she?” Les demanded. “And who is this owl?”

  “I’m sure it’s Peter. Veronica must have transferred his essence and brought him here to protect him from Dr. Tenney. But tell me everything that happened after Dr. Tenney shut down my mind. What about Trevor? Is he safe?”

  “Tenney still has him,” Les said, and told her how they’d escaped, but that Trevor had been unable to run with them and had urged them to go on without him.

  “I wanted to go back for him.” He fought to keep his voice steady. “Miryam called me. She needed help with you and your father.”

  “My father! Is he alive?”

  “He lives,” Miryam put in before Les could answer. She sounded tired and weak; she must have used up her strength healing Leila. No wonder she’d been so quiet.

  “Where is he?” Leila asked. “Not in Tenney’s hands, is he?”

  Miryam told her of leaving Doss Hamlyn in the carriage. “The horses ran with it. I don’t think Tenney and Carl could have stopped it. They’d already used so much power that they couldn’t do much. That wouldn’t have lasted long, but it would have given time for your father to reach a place of safety. As it gave us time to get here.” Her hand fell away from Leila’s forehead. She leaned back, her eyes closed.

  Les hurried to her, supported her in his arms. “You need to rest, and we have to find Veronica.”

  “I can’t do anything until I regain my strength. Then I’ll try to take us through to Veronica’s house. That’s where she’s probably gone.”

  Leila clasped Miryam’s hands. “You’ve exhausted yourself tending me. Let me help you. I’m not a healer, but I can lend you power.” She glanced nervously at the surrounding woods. “I don’t think it’s safe to stay here at night.”

  “What about the owl—er, Peter?” Les asked. “Do we take him with us? An owl should be safe here.”

  “I think we should take him,” Leila said. “Is that what you want, Peter?”

  “Who-ooo,” said the owl emphatically.

  Miryam sat up. “Taking you all through won’t be easy. But Leila and I can rest at Veronica’s. I suppose we should go now.”

  She joined hands with Les and Leila. Leila stretched out her arm, and the owl flew onto it. They moved along the bank of the stream, the owl staying on Leila’s arm. They had not gone far before entering the familiar grayness that obliterated sight and sound.

  It seemed that the transfer from one world to another took longer than it had before, perhaps because Miryam was weaker. Les had begun to fear that they were lost in the nothingness between worlds when light burst around them.

  They stood among small tables, while bundles of herbs hung from cords over their heads. Les felt the soft springiness of fur beneath his feet. A wonderful aroma of stewing vegetables made his mouth water.

  “About time you got here!” Veronica bustled over to them wearing a white apron and brandishing a long spoon. “What took you so long?”

  The owl flew up from Leila’s arm and coasted to the floor on outspread wings. Leila dropped Les’s hand and with a small sigh slipped to the floor beside the owl. Miryam remained standing but swayed with weariness.

  “Wore yourselves out, did you? And at that, you left Trevor, so I don’t know what good your wild foray did.” She shook the spoon in Les’s face.

  The owl’s feathers bristled; it flapped its wings. “Who-ooo-ooo,” it said in a menacing tone.

  “Why have you brought that bird here? It was safe enough in the woods.”

  “It wanted to come with us,” Les said, taken aback by her scolding. “We thought—it is Peter, isn’t it?”

  “So, figured that out, did you? Well, Peter’s consciousness is in it, sharing the owl’s mind and overriding its instincts. I suppose he might as well stay. We have to get his body back. Which means I have to take on Dr. Tenney. I expected that sooner or later.” She turned and stalked to the stove, thrust the spoon into the bubbling pot.

  Les followed her. “We did get Miryam, so it wasn’t a useless attempt. We almost got Trevor, but Dr. Tenney did something to him so he couldn’t move.”

  “Miryam would have been safe if you’d stayed here as I told you instead of traipsing off on your own,” Veronica snapped, stirring the soup with a vigor that sent splatters of hot liquid flying about.

  Les backed away and bumped into Miryam, who’d come up behind him. She put her hands on his shoulders and whispered into his ear, �
��She’s not as angry as she sounds. She’s worried.”

  “I’m worried, all right,” Veronica said, taking out the spoon and again shaking it at Les and Miryam. “I’ve stayed away from the Community since it became an exclusive club with Berne Tenney wielding so much influence, but now I’ll have to get involved. He has to be stopped.

  “And you, Les. I keep warning you Trevor’ll be the death of you. You won’t listen.” She sighed and turned to pick up bowls stacked on a nearby table. “No help for it,” she said, ladling soup into the bowls. “Eat and rest while you can. Tomorrow will see this whole thing settled, one way or another.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  DEATH STORM

  The Community met at the house Dr. Tenney specified in the message Carl and Trevor had helped him deliver the previous evening. A gravel walkway led along the side of the host’s home and through a gate in a stone wall. The wall and the row of poplar trees bordering the garden prevented any curious normals from observing the meeting.

  More than twenty members were already gathered when Dr. Tenney ushered Carl and Trevor through the gate and along the paths winding through the neat flowerbeds and past sparkling fountains.

  As still more members arrived, Dr. Tenney moved off, working the crowd—shaking hands, slapping backs, bowing over ladies’ hands. Trevor could not hear the conversations or tell whether the doctor was recognized. Probably the Community merely accepted him as Peter, a fellow member and Hamlyn’s friend.

  Not a cloud marred the expanse of blue sky above them. It would be difficult to conjure storm clouds out of a clear sky, especially with Carl draining his power. Still, Trevor was determined to try. With no allies here, he would have to act alone, surrounded by gifted, who might easily detect his attempt. He could see no chance of success, yet he closed his eyes and concentrated on clouds, wind, rain. Lightning.

  A sharp nudge in the ribs broke his concentration. “What are you doing?” Carl demanded.

  Trevor feigned innocence and shrugged his shoulders to convey lack of understanding.

  Carl scowled. “You can’t use your power, you know that. You can’t move or talk, either, so I don’t know what you think you can do. But you’re up to something. It’s tickling my brain. And I don’t intend to let you interfere with Dr. Tenney’s plans.”

  Trevor continued his innocent act, though he didn’t suppose Carl was deceived. Yet the fact that Carl knew he was doing something but couldn’t seem to tell what gave Trevor reason to hope. He waited until someone greeted them and Carl returned the greeting with a false smile and ingratiating manner. Taking advantage of Carl’s momentary distraction, Trevor formed mental images of fast-moving clouds, white at first, but growing darker until they blackened and spawned lightning bolts and thunderclaps.

  He didn’t have to scan the sky to know his image was not becoming reality. Sunlight glistened in the water of the fountains and played over the flowers, bringing out the brilliance of their colors, providing an idyllic setting for Dr. Tenney’s cruel plan.

  In Doss Hamlyn’s absence, those opposed to Tenney seemed ready to accept the supposed Peter as their spokesman, judging by the nods and exchanged handshakes Trevor saw each time he glanced toward the doctor.

  Carl gave Trevor a warning glare and moved off in the opposite direction from the Adept, working the crowd in much the same way. Trevor followed his role of nodding and forcing a smile when anyone spoke to him, then moving away as though needing to speak to someone else.

  He didn’t have much time; he must do what he could while Carl was busy elsewhere. Again he sent a mental probe skyward, searching, pleading for storm clouds. The sky remained cloudless.

  Dr. Tenney headed toward him. Trevor steeled himself for the punishment he was certain was coming. But when Dr. Tenney reached his side, he said, “It’s going well, my lad. I think it’s time to put my plan into effect.”

  The Adept stepped up on a bench so that all could see him and raised his hands to signal a desire to address the assembly.

  As the members ceased their conversations to listen, Trevor again stabbed a mental probe skyward, searching, pleading for a storm. Carl joined the doctor but said nothing to Trevor. Either he no longer sensed Trevor’s efforts or he did not think them worthy of concern. He kept his attention fixed on Tenney.

  Trevor also listened to the doctor’s discourse, but at the same time he intensified his probe.

  “My friends,” the doctor began, “I am addressing you today on behalf of Dr. Tenney and of Doss Hamlyn.”

  Dr. Tenney must assume that they all accepted him as Peter.

  “Neither the doctor nor my esteemed employer is able to be present,” Dr. Tenney continued. “Both have suffered serious harm at the hands of one not of this company, one who has used the power of an Adept to meddle in affairs not hers and to stir up strife and dissension in these august ranks.”

  He’s talking about Veronica, Trevor thought. Veronica died when the moth was crushed—didn’t she? But these people didn’t know that. The doctor was using Veronica as a rallying point, a means of getting the Community to act together against a perceived danger.

  If Veronica had avoided destruction, Trevor could not expect her to help him. She’d protect Les and Miryam if she could, but she had no reason to do anything for him. He aimed another bolt of power at the unchanging blue sky.

  Maybe I never really had the talent to do this. Maybe Aunt Ellen called the storm, and only let me think I helped. I’m fooling myself, clutching at straws, when I know it’s impossible to stop Dr. Tenney.

  His call for rain, his picture of a stormy sky, grew hazy, halfhearted. He heard Dr. Tenney say, “Doss Hamlyn and Dr. Tenney have put aside their personal differences and have asked me to request that you all do likewise. On their behalf, I ask you to pledge your assistance in combating this threat to our existence as a Community and possibly to our independent use of power, as well. You all know of Veronica Crowell’s disdain for the Community; she’s made no secret of it since her withdrawal from our ranks. But until recently she has been content to ignore us. Now, however, she has taken action against us. The woman is extremely dangerous. You can imagine what power she possesses, to have been able to damage both Hamlyn and Tenney. Who among us has as much power as they? We can defeat her only by acting in concert.” He let his solemn gaze wander over the audience.

  He must have judged the reaction to be favorable; he motioned Carl to his side. “Carl Holdt, here, will move among you, and if you agree to help destroy this evil, you have only to clasp his hand as a token of your willingness to cooperate.”

  This could be Trevor’s last chance. He strengthened his storm image. A wisp of white cloud floated into sight above the treetops. No touch of rain about it, but it provided a focus for his desperate probes.

  Carl moved off, while Dr. Tenney remained on the bench watching Carl’s progress. Trevor expected someone to have enough talent to see through the deception. The Community must include truth readers. But they must not be exercising that talent. Convinced by the testimony of their eyes, they accepted the man who’d spoken to them as Peter and fell into the trap he’d set for them. One by one, each member offered a hand to Carl.

  Each time Carl clasped a hand, a jolt shook Trevor. He felt first a surge of power and then a rapid drain that left him light-headed. He’d barely caught his breath after the first time when it happened again. And again.

  Trevor glanced upward. The small cloud had drifted nearer the zenith, but it had not enlarged or darkened. But if he could grasp power as it surged through him …

  Another jolt. Another surge. Storm! he thought, visualizing lightning and pounding rain.

  Trevor did this no more than four times before Carl stopped his circuit of the members to go to Dr. Tenney and motion him to step off the bench. When the doctor did so, Carl whispered something to him.

  Trevor staggered. The power band tightened, and he gasped for breath. A sensation crawled over him like that produced by
Carl’s hated touch. He opened his mouth, but pain gagged him, wouldn’t let him make a sound. Pain drove Trevor to his knees.

  All the shame, the agony, the hatred swarmed into the white cloud, turning it black, swelling it.

  Carl and Dr. Tenney approached him, and Carl yanked him to his feet.

  “Think you’re clever, do you,” he whispered into Trevor’s ear. “Think I can’t tell that you’re grabbing power? You’ll suffer for that.”

  “Fool!” was Dr. Tenney’s single comment.

  Pain twisted through Trevor, though Tenney’s power held him upright, not letting him fall. He suffered again the indignity of Carl’s forcing him to flog and then tear at himself. Held motionless, he sent a mental cry upward into the cloud.

  A clap of thunder made eyes turn upward to cast worried looks at the sky.

  “Come, hurry,” Dr. Tenney urged, climbing back onto the bench. “We can complete this meeting before the rain begins.”

  Carl left Trevor and passed again among the group, shaking hands.

  With each handshake, a great weakness swept over Trevor. The power drain was more than he could bear. Agony thrust into him, flame burst through him. His back arched; his head fell back; his eyes stared at a sky filling with black clouds.

  A clap of thunder boomed from the clouds.

  Dr. Tenney jumped off the bench and hurried to Trevor’s side. Carl reached him only a moment later. “Kill him!” the doctor ordered.

  The band around Trevor’s throat tightened so that he could no longer breathe. His body felt aflame. He hurled his pain and desperation skyward.

  A bolt of lightning set the sky ablaze. Its fire answered the fire in Trevor’s body. Light blinded his eyes. He heard no thunder.

  Veronica took her hands from the crystal she’d been staring into for what seemed hours. “It is time,” she said.

  Finally.

  Miryam clasped Les’s hand. Leila bent and placed her hands on the shoulders of the owl. They huddled together, and Veronica joined them.

  “Remember,” she said, her gaze boring into Les, “the gift of power is never lightly given. The recipient may use the gift, misuse it, or reject it. The Power-Giver bestows wisely, but we do not always receive wisely. Seek wisdom before you act.”