No True Way Page 23

  Karinda vowed to become a Mage then and there, no matter how long it took.

  The only problem was, after two months she was as proficient with magic as she had ever been as a Bardic Trainee. Which was to say, hardly at all. All Karinda could manage was the simplest of kitchen magic; anything more complicated than lighting tinder or stirring pots eluded her.

  Bellgrove would act the same way every day. He cackled viciously at every failure, never actually teaching her anything, but flamboyantly showing off on a whim to humiliate. Leering, watching, always suggesting the “quick and easy” path.

  Karinda took a deep breath and ducked under the water. Submerged, her thoughts turned to the latter. Even in two months, there had been plenty of times when Karinda was ready to give in to the old pervert’s desires—even if it turned out she wasn’t what he expected—for the smallest amount of real magic. And she hated herself more every time she got to that point.

  But she refused to give in. She wouldn’t give Bellgrove the satisfaction. So she toiled all day, fixing Bellgrove’s hut and hers, cooking meals, mending clothes, and in the spare moments putting all of her effort into tapping some of the ley energy that was supposed to be here.

  Karinda surfaced and pulled herself out of the lake. She quickly swapped her soaked clothes for the spares in the bundle and headed back to her hut. With the sun now breaking over the treeline, Karinda almost didn’t see Bellgrove standing in front of her doorway until she almost ran into him.

  “Good morning, Bellgrove,” she said quietly, backing away from the old man and averting her eyes.

  “Yes, Clever,” Bellgrove answered, “It’s quite a good morning, indeed. You’ve bathed, excellent. You are as prepared as you need to be. This is the morning your wait is over.”

  It was then that Karinda noticed Bellgrove was wearing robes she had never seen before. These were immaculate, deep crimson with silver thread. A thought popped into her head then, too horrible to ignore.

  “You . . . you’re . . . This is Blood Magic!”

  Bellgrove laughed. “Nothing so crude and painful, Clever. No, these are to honor the Splendid One.” He took a step forward, but he made no move to touch her. “I’ve told you many times that a Greater Power dwells here. This morning, you will meet It and give yourself to It. Come, to the pillars.”

  Karinda followed, mesmerized by the hidden promises in Bellgrove’s words. A voice in the back of her mind told her this was wrong, to run away. But Karinda wasn’t listening.

  Bellgrove led her to the pillared platform, where an intricate pattern of shiny dust had been laid out in the center. As Karinda crossed through the pillars, Bellgrove held up his hand, and she stopped.

  The Mage entered the dust pattern and stood in the middle. Lifting his staff above his head, he began chanting in what Karinda was hard pressed to call a language. It hurt her ears and dulled her other senses. Bellgrove’s voice rose to a commanding tone as he began thrusting the staff in random directions, contorting in ways Karinda wouldn’t have imagined his old body capable of, and somehow not disturbing the dust at all.

  Karinda had no idea how long this lasted, but the moment the sun cleared the trees, Bellgrove slammed the butt of the staff down onto the pattern. The dust erupted into silver flame and just as quickly died away. As it died, a great wind picked up from across the lake, creating a thick mist that swirled around the pillars. Karinda squinted to keep the mist out of her eyes, and the ancient platform took on the appearance of swirling white walls.

  And in the middle of one of those walls, a doorway appeared. Bellgrove held the staff out with both hands and bowed his head. What appeared a second later was the most beautiful person Karinda had ever seen. He—she? it seemed both, and neither—had hair like a flowing river and wore crimson robes identical to Bellgrove’s. Karinda’s heart pounded fiercely just from the sight, and her breath was snatched away when It smiled and spoke to Bellgrove.

  “Has another Solstice arrived already?” It asked. Karinda “felt” the words in her skull bones more than hearing them. “The time goes too quickly, my disciple.”

  Bellgrove gave one deep bow and answered, “Indeed it does, Splendid One. As does your boon. But I am patient, as you commanded. We may begin the Solstice offering.”

  There was a moment of tense silence. “I see no offering, my disciple,” It said. “Do you mean to give yourself to me completely?”

  “What? No!” Bellgrove looked around in panic.

  Karinda froze. She was close to one of the pillars, but not close enough for the mist to obscure her—unless Bellgrove really was half blind. But the “Splendid One” as well? There was no time for questions.

  Bellgrove pleaded, “Splendid One, I don’t understand this! I was ready! SHE was ready! Some other magic is at work here!”

  “She”? So he did know, Karinda thought, despite the situation. Not that it matters, now . . .

  The Splendid One stepped away from the doorway, his gaze intent on Bellgrove. The glamour started to melt away. It was still beautiful, but now there was an unmistakably ugly evil beneath the beauty. “Explain yourself, then, my disciple. You give me many offerings, and now this. Why do you delay?”

  “I do not delay!” Bellgrove stammered. “She was here, I swear it! And now—”

  At those words, there was a flash of light visible through the mist. All three turned to look. Through the thick white, two shapes were barely visible. The Splendid One waved a hand, and the mist thinned enough to see. It was clear now that it was two horses, one riderless. They stood at the end of the path that Karinda had first discovered so many weeks ago now.

  The rider raised a hand as well, and a moment later the sun seemed to brighten until everything was turning white. Karinda and Bellgrove squinted to shield their eyes, but the Splendid One howled in pain.

  “Greedy little insect!” it roared at Bellgrove. “This is your ‘other magic at work’?” The Splendid One grabbed the old man’s throat and lifted him high in the air. “You brought them here! I give you more power than any one man has left in the world, and this is your thanks!”

  “This one is mine!” it shouted to the figures on the path. “He may have brought you here, but I claim this one as my offering! Even your kind cannot stop that!” The air was suddenly filled with a noise that made Bellgrove’s chanting seem melodic. The mist walls burst into flame as the shiny dust had, and when the flames died, the mist, Bellgrove, and his “Splendid One” were gone.

  The sun’s brightness quickly returned to normal, and save for scorched stones and an old, cracked walking staff, there was no sign that anything had been to these ruins since its original inhabitants left.

  Karinda craned her neck to see if the newcomers had gone as well, but in fact they were much closer, and Karinda’s breath was taken away again. Two truly beautiful white horses walked into the circle of pillars. One of them bore a rider, his attire and bearing something Karinda had only seen in paintings and illustrations. But she knew them, and she stood in awe—and a little fear.

  The Herald took a good look around at the remains of the ritual. “Well, that was an unfortunate thing to witness,” he said to no one in particular. “Why people continue to think they can outwit demons is beyond me. Now, where’s this young lady we’re here for?”

  Not him, too! Karinda thought with a quiet groan.

  The Herald seemed to hear that and scanned the area, looking slightly confused. It wasn’t until the riderless horse nickered at him and nodded directly at Karinda that he finally locked eyes with the girl. He gave a start but quickly followed it with a smile.

  “Arissa was right—you are a hard person to find, even when you know where to look.”

  Karinda blinked, but quickly found her voice. “Who is Arissa?”

  :That would be me, dearest.:

  It took a moment for Karinda’s confused mind to ackno
wledge the fact that it was the lone horse that had answered. It took another to realize that the horse had answered inside her head.

  :And I have been looking for you for a long time, Karinda,: Arissa continued, a feeling of warmth radiating throughout her words.

  A hundred questions bubbled up inside Karinda, and the first one to come out was, “How can I hear you? I don’t have this ‘Gift’ your people have.”

  The Herald let out a polite laugh. “It’s not just ‘our’ Gift, love. Anyone can be born with it. Admittedly, from what Arissa has told me, your Gift is rather unique.”

  :And your Gift is being rude,: interjected the Companion bearing the Herald. :Introduce us to the young lady first. Then we can continue.:

  The Herald grinned, a bit red in the cheeks. “You’re absolutely right, Ashlen. My apologies to all.” He gave a slight bow. “Herald Anselm at your call, my lady.”

  “I’m hardly a lady,” Karinda said with a blush of her own. “And what’s this about having your . . . this Gift?”

  :Yes, you possess a Gift of the mind, Karinda,: Arissa said. :And as Anselm said, it is one we have never seen before, and we really don’t know what to call it.:

  :I’m still partial to “Never Mind”, myself . . . : quipped Ashlen with a whinny.

  Karinda cracked a smile and didn’t bother to hide it. “‘Never Mind’? What does that mean?”

  Anselm replied, “You caught a glimpse of it just before I first spoke to you. That look, as if I couldn’t see you, even though you were right in front of me? I saw you, but as soon as I did, your mind told mine that you were . . . well . . .”

  “Irrelevant,” Karinda answered before Anselm could find a word. “Unimportant, too much so to even remember seeing.”

  Arissa snorted. :You mustn’t think like that, dearest. You are anything but!:

  Karinda shook her head. “No, I don’t mean it as an insult. It’s true. I’ve dealt with this since I was a child . . . this explains so much.”

  “You don’t have to deal with it alone anymore, Karinda,” said Anselm. “Now that you know about it, we can train you to control it and use it responsibly.”

  Karinda looked confused. “Responsibly?” She held up a finger. “Wait, no, before that . . . Train me? You mean to be a . . .”

  :Yes, dearest. A Herald.: Arissa lowered her head and looked her chosen in the eye. :A Gift like yours needs guidance, and a pure heart. Even on the surface of your thoughts, I can see glimpses of what you were put through. But you were resolute to the end. The purity of your body and soul remained untouched despite the temptations. I would have sought you out for that alone, dearest.:

  “You have the potential, love,” Anselm said, “Do you have the desire?”

  I have the desire for a hot bath and a real bed. Karinda thought. We can negotiate from there.

  :I like her already,: said Ashlen, and the three had a quiet laugh at Karinda’s blush. :My apologies, young lady. I shan’t listen further unless asked.:

  Karinda shook her head with a smile. Anselm returned it and said, “Everything we have said is an offer only. It is for you to choose. What say you, Karinda?”

  For the first time since the beginning of the ritual, Karinda took a step forward, and another, until she was close enough to rest a hand on Arissa’s muzzle. Silently, the Companion sank to her knees. Karinda kept her hand on Arissa’s neck until she had mounted. Arissa rose, and Karinda knew—as if she’d always known—that her Companion would never let her fall.

  Karinda had nothing to say. Words weren’t needed. She knew that from now on, there would be someone who would always know she was there.

  Beyond the Fires

  Louisa Swann

  Morning sun chased the night’s chill from her bones as Liana eased herself down onto a gnarled root, ran a hand over her rounded belly, and stared up into the arching canopy overhead. Broad elm leaves, still spring-fresh and untarnished by the summer heat yet to come, glowed a light green against the spiky, dark fir and pine needles. The scent of damp earth and moss rose from the brook she’d just stumbled through, the burbling waters a peaceful counterpoint to the battle raging more than a day behind her.

  The trees and bushes were a welcome change from the gorse-covered hills she’d passed through late yesterday. She felt like a spider clinging to its web, suspended between the peace flowing through the forest and the violence that had been her life ever since her fourteenth birthday, less than a year ago.

  Liana sighed and rubbed her aching back. Peace was only an illusion, and though the skin-crawling stink of blood and death was far behind her, the clashing swords and screaming men reduced to faint background noise, even the toughest web could be torn, leaving the spider vulnerable.

  A black-tailed squirrel chittered at her from a nearby tree as a raven swooped down and landed on her knee. The bird tilted its head to the side, peering at her first with one eye, then with the other before ruffling its ebony feathers and letting out a hoarse croak.

  “Ya know as well as I do there ain’t nothing in me pockets,” Liana told it. “Ya sussed out all the crumbs last night.”

  The raven ruffled its feathers again, and Liana scowled. “Yer the one’s got me into this mess, and now yer tellin’ me ye never figgered out how we gonna eat?”

  The raven’s indignant croak almost brought a smile to Liana’s lips. The movement felt strange, using muscles that hadn’t been exercised in what felt like an eternity. She studied the mischievous bird, the almost-smile fading into blankness.

  She hadn’t planned on escaping when the mercenaries left the main camp. All the men, including the boys old enough to fight, had marched out to attack Valdemar, leaving behind their women and almost a thousand children of varying ages.

  Liana had gone down to the river to fetch water for cooking. She’d been numb, eight months with child and exhausted beyond caring. Instead of filling the bucket in her hands, she’d found herself following a raven as it flew upstream, its ebony reflection rippling across the river’s surface, then flattening out, then rippling again. When she finally realized how far she’d wandered, she’d almost panicked. Almost turned back.

  But the raven had drawn her on.

  Every step took her farther from camp. With each of those steps she could feel hard eyes watching her. With each of those steps her shoulders had tensed, anticipating the blow of a heavy hand.

  No one escaped the Tedrel mercenaries.

  No one.

  Until now.

  A fly tickled Liana’s arm, and she gently brushed it away in wonder. She no longer felt numb. Since waking this morning, everything seemed fresh and untainted.

  Then she shivered. In spite of the peaceful setting, she wasn’t safe. Not yet.

  The raven lifted gracefully into the air as Liana shoved herself off the root, standing with a muffled groan. The child in her belly kicked hard enough to make her gasp. She growled low in her throat, torn between hating the beast growing within her and wanting to believe the baby she’d give birth to in another month or so wasn’t really a monster. Fear washed over her as strong as a river current, the same fear that threatened to choke her every time she thought about the impending childbirth.

  Fear snuffed the peace from the air like wind blowing out a candle. The shadows seemed deeper, more menacing, and the sun burned instead of soothed. Something splashed in the brook behind her. Liana’s heart thudded against her ribs as she glanced over her shoulder, certain she would see her captor standing there, a predatory smile on his scarred face, his enormous fists clenched and ready to beat her into submission.

  But Grunt wasn’t there.

  A doe stood ankle deep in the brook, its brown eyes soft and inquisitive. Liana hadn’t seen a live deer since she’d been captured, and this one seemed small, almost delicate. The doe flicked its enormous ears backward, then forward as it licked its
muzzle, then dipped its head and drank.

  Liana swallowed, trying to work moisture back into her suddenly dry mouth. She turned to waddle after the raven . . .

  And found herself belly to muzzle with an enormous white horse.

  Liana stumbled back, too startled to even shriek. Once again fear bubbled in her throat, a different fear this time, a fear born of Karsite tales, told around the cook fires, of white, blue-eyed demons that committed the most horrible acts . . .

  The fear disappeared almost as quickly as it had come. If this . . . horse . . . truly was a demon, what it did to her couldn’t be any worse than being Grunt’s slave. Besides, it didn’t look like a demon, in spite of the sapphire-blue eyes. Eyes that looked . . . intelligent.

  A memory tickled at the back of her mind—a woman with hair the color of sunshine smiling down at her, weaving fantastic tales of Heralds and Companions . . .

  The horse snorted, splattering the tenuous vision before Liana could grab onto it. The images disappeared into the fabric of her mind like water on a dry stone, leaving behind a vague sense of irritation, like an itch that couldn’t be scratched.

  “What ye on about then?” The words were out of Liana’s mouth before she realized it. She cringed and clasped a hand over her mouth, startled by the tone of her voice.

  She’d used that tone once after her capture. She’d been both terrified—and stupid. She should have known better, after seeing her father knifed and her mother burned alive. But she was only fourteen, barely old enough to be married and still innocent in the ways of the world. The man who’d carried her off had kept her in his tent, isolated from the other children. When she’d dared to defy him, he’d grabbed her beneath one massive arm, carried her into the men’s tent, and left her to be raped over and over and over until she felt like a piece of meat that had been tossed into a pack of ravenous dogs.

  When he returned for her, there was no fight left. Only a limp body that had once belonged to a young girl who’d once dared to dream.