Storm Warning v(ms-1 Read online

  "I thought they had an envoy at the Valdemar Court," An'desha observed.

  :They used to, a very long time ago. Not anymore.: Florian let out his breath in a sigh. :It's tradition to keep their suite ready for them, but no one has come to claim it in anyone's lifetime.:

  Karal swallowed as he contemplated that shimmering wall of—of—

  Of power, that's what it is. Pure force. And I'm supposed to walk across it? And anyone who tried to cross it is dead!

  What was more, he was supposed to walk across it right now. There couldn't be more than a mark to go until the next wave was upon them!

  "Come on," he urged as his hands shook. "We have to get moving now. We haven't got any time at all to spare!"

  To set an example, he urged poor, tired Trenor into a clumsy trot, sending him down the valley, through the knee-high grass, and up the ridge. The wall just loomed larger and larger—it didn't change at all except for the continuous rippling of the surface as he drew nearer to it. He sensed An'desha and Florian at his back, but the sheer power of the wall drove them mostly out of his thoughts.

  There wasn't time for finesse, for study, for anything other than what he was already doing—running headlong into the thing, and hoping that it didn't decide to kill him, too.

  Fear held him rigid and made a metallic taste in his mouth. He closed his eyes and shouted at Trenor to drive him the last few spans remaining—

  —opened his eyes again, just as they actually reached it, and passed into it—

  Something seized and held him.

  ****what?****

  He could not move, not even to breathe. He was surrounded by light, yet could not see. He could only wait, while whatever it was that held him examined him, inside and out.

  ****Priest?****

  Was he a Priest? An'desha had named him "priest," but it had been in jest. Or had it? Solaris had named him "priest," but he thought it had merely been expedience. What had he done to earn the name?

  ****ah****

  Suddenly, it let him go. He found himself still in Trenor's saddle, looking at An'desha and Florian through a curtain of rippling light that seemed thinner here than elsewhere.

  :It is thinner. That is so we can reach them,: Altra said, urgently. :It is coming, Karal, take your position. Don't just stand there thinking, move!:

  He tumbled off Trenor's back and took the stance he'd been coached in, bracing himself and holding both his arms out and up.

  :Now. Into the trance I taught you.:

  Obediently, he spoke his keywords and fell into a light trance; not so deep that he was unaware of everything around him, but too deep for him to move on his own now. He wasn't sure what was going to happen after that; Altra and An'desha hadn't gone into it—

  A fraction of a heartbeat later, he realized why they hadn't gone into it. If they had, he'd have been too terrified to go through with it all.

  From Altra's side, a torrent of power poured into him; from Florian's, another. There was something in him that managed to join those two streams of energy and actually hold them—even though from his point of view, it was like the one time he'd foolishly mounted an unbroken stallion. He was not controlling the power—it was permitting him—briefly—to hold it!

  Then An'desha somehow reached out to him from across the border, and the two streams of power that had been made one found their outlet.

  Now An'desha did something with that energy that Karal could not see, and could only sense, very dimly, as a blind man might sense a mighty fortress being built beside him. He arched his back and closed his eyes to concentrate on holding the power steady—the longer the power "permitted" him to hold it, the more control he actually had over it.

  It was not easy, and he sensed something else. If he slipped, it was going to do terrible things to him, and if he survived the experience, the likelihood that he would regret surviving was very high.

  He no sooner had that unsettling revelation than the disruption-wave hit.

  It was worse than all the others combined.

  The ground heaved and buckled under him, as if this was the earthquake that would end the world. He went entirely blind, but not in the sense of being immersed in total darkness. Instead, there was nothing to see but color and light, swirls and whirlwinds and cascades of color and light. The light was something he could hear; it roared and rushed in his ears. The color had flavors; iron, scorched stone, and copper. Somewhere out there he knew that Florian and Altra were still pouring energy into him; he felt it, hot and primal, deep inside him—and An'desha needed that power. So he held to it, even when the light turned into a million serpents that threatened to crush him, even when the colours tried to wash him away, right up until everything collapsed and he was all alone in an unending darkness, and he knew he would never, ever find his way out again—that was when he faltered.

  Fear overcame him; he felt the power slipping through his tenuous grasp.

  I can't take this! he thought, gasping in panic. I can't do this! This was for someone like Ulrich, not me! I can't—

  His control slipped a little more, and he flailed in confusion.

  I don't even know what I am anymore.

  His heart raced in panic, and he wanted Ulrich. He wanted to be like Ulrich.

  Then from deep within him came a feeling of conviction, of responsibility, too strong for even fear to shake.

  I have to. There's no one else.

  He held the power, though it writhed and threatened to escape. He ignored his confusion, fought his panic, and held.

  Then, as suddenly as it began, it was over. Abruptly, he found himself back on the Valdemar side of the barrier, knee-deep in dead grasses, staring into An'desha's eyes from a distance of no more than an arm's length. How he had gotten there, he had no clue.

  :The other breakwaters are up,: Florian said, his voice so faint with exhaustion that it might have been nothing more than a whisper of Karal's own thoughts. :All three are joined. The Iftel border is part of it all. We did it, Karal.:

  Karal sat down in the grass; Altra was already lying down beside him, completely drained, one very flat Cat. "We did, didn't we?" he said, wonderingly.

  :Ah.: That was Altra. :I believe that I will lie here for a while. A month would be good. Maybe two. How do you manage with the limits of these bodies?:

  "I manage very well, thank you," An'desha replied sharply. "I had a taste of doing without one, remember? Don't complain."

  Karal decided that Altra's idea of lying flat was a good one. He felt—he felt as if someone had filled him full of light, then drained him; as if someone had turned him inside out, left him under the desert sun for a while, then turned him right-side out again.

  :There is help coming,: Florian said. :A Herald on circuit. Just rest now, until he comes.:

  "We did it," he said again, wonderingly.

  :We did. The barriers will hold for now. We have bought some breathing space.:

  Breathing space. Time. He blinked, and looked up at the blue sky. Maybe a little rest. All three sounded impossibly good.

  Never mind that he was truly going to be the Karsite envoy now, a position he didn't want, and wasn't sure how to fill. And never mind that there was a young engineer back in Haven who made him think very uncomfortable and yet delightful thoughts.

  There was still the Imperial army out there—and no telling what they would do. Karal himself was now a potential major target for them. And the cataclysmic mage-storm was yet to come.

  But at the moment, it doesn't matter. For now, they had time—and a little time—and each other—could be all they needed.

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