Analindë (The Chronicles of Lóresse) (18 page)

The Thirteenth Chapter

In Master Therin’s Tower,
Mirëdell

A
n uneventful slew of days
passed while Laerwen and Vinriel took turns bringing up meals and checking on Analindë’s progress. Truly she felt much better, almost normal except for two things: the ache deep inside her that mourned her family and her newfound mage senses. She still hadn’t gotten used to sensing her reservoir, which she’d since learned to call her source.

It was mid-afternoon and Andulmaion was in the main room working on some new offensive spell he’d made up. Analindë was in her room sitting on a couch while soaking up the sun streaming through her windows. A stack of correspondence sat on a side table near her. She’d just finished sorting it all into piles of real friends, acquaintances, and gossips. The first pile she hoped to respond to in a little while when she had the strength, but just right now she was beyond fatigued. So she simply sat on her couch facing the sun. The warmth reminded her of that luscious forest glade she’d found on her way to the school.

She was tired. Mornings were better, but by afternoon, focusing was a hopeless cause and doing anything strenuous was out of the question. Worries constantly plagued her, adding to her exhaustion. What was being done about the Humans? Did the High Council still think they were going to come after her? Had the High Council found any sign of her parent’s or brother’s deaths? Or of their survival? She thought about how she’d not seen a thing to indicate that they’d been killed or that they lived. A brief fizz of hope lifted her heart at the thought before plummeting back down as she faced bleak reality. Better not to dwell on foolish hopes. And what about Gildhorn? And the Mageborn Books, what had the Council discovered and had the Mountain City located their set? In all, her efforts to learn more were futile.

No one would give her an answer. They only patted her on the head and told her not to worry. Why even last night she’d stayed up late to catch Master Therin when he’d arrived back from his meetings. He’d dodged her questions many times before and so she’d been more assertive last night than usual, asking direct questions about the topics that pressed at her most. He’d winced, rubbing his head, and replied that she was not to worry. She’d let the old Master escape up his stairs, feeling sorry that she’d pressed him. He was obviously tired and working hard. But yet, that was the consistent answer that she received from anyone in contact with life outside the tower . . . that she shouldn’t think of such things, that they’d take care of her, which didn’t set her mind at ease
at all
. She groaned and rubbed her fingers against her temples. What was she to do?

“Analindë, are you okay?” The worried voice came from the edge of her room.

Andulmaion.

Her keeper.

No, that wasn’t fair. He was trapped in this tower just as much as she. He’d been charged with guarding her, teaching her upon occasion, and she hadn’t yet the strength for him to be relieved of his duties. She sighed.

“Yes,” she dropped her hands back into her lap. “I’m fine. I thank you for asking.” She looked back over her shoulder. His eyes were worried. He studied her face for a moment and the stars in his eyes flowed to a calmer whirl. Stars never lied. He really was worried about her, but he was calmer now, less anxious.

“Should you need anything, please ask.”

“I will, thank you again.” She gave him a smile, which felt weaker than she’d intended. He must’ve thought it was a good enough effort because he nodded his head, turned, and left the room.

She swiveled back to face the windows. She’d already questioned him yesterday afternoon to no avail. They weren’t telling anything to him either, except that one of the healers had accidentally let slip that people were talking about oath swearing again. She wondered what that would be like, to be bonded to someone else. Anxiety wound through her at the thought and so she forced her mind blank, then let her head fall back onto the sofa behind her. Her weary body had sunk deep into the couch, her eyes fluttered shut. It felt nice to sit still. Warm. Cozy. At rest.

She remembered Laerwen’s warning, that much of her energies would be spent in self-healing and—again—not to worry about her lack of strength. So Analindë tried not to worry and let her mind drift instead. Like she’d done in the forest glade, at the glacier lake, and so often after that time, she allowed her senses to piece together her surroundings. Her breathing slowed and fell into the rhythmic cadence she used when finding center.

She felt the rays of sun shine down upon her; its warmth strengthened her as her body absorbed its Energy. Puzzled, she wondered why the sunshine didn’t feel as strong as it had when out in the forest. The question didn’t linger long since it was easier to let her mind drift around the room rather than to puzzle it out.

Her thoughts sank to the floor beneath her. Stone. Heavy with age. With her magesight she traced the suite of rooms. She saw the way the stones fit together, the layers of sediment, and the very faint traces of a spell that had melded them all together. Mapping out her bathing room and the vacant room to the side of hers, she vaguely took in the room’s contents, then moved on. She studied the sitting room, its entryway, the dining area, the two groups of chairs and couches, one by the fire, the other by the windows. All had faint traces of Energy which allowed her to see the room. She scrutinized the jeweled stones that were embedded in the walls and was startled to realize that they weren’t just decorative, but that they were functional. Their purpose eluded her.

She reached Andulmaion’s suite and paused briefly, then hesitantly sent her thoughts into the room. As with the other objects in the tower, everything in Andulmaion’s rooms radiated traces of Energy from when they had been alive or been formed. Some were faint: chairs, a table, and some books. To her magesight, others glowed as bright as the sun and she found herself doing the magesight equivalent of squinting by tamping down on the tendril of thought she’d sent into the room. A large piece of glass, a wooden bowl, a few books, and a sword lay next to Andulmaion’s bed. And all around the tower, she now noticed it, a shield unlike any she’d seen before.

She sent her thoughts to circle the tower suites; her floor was completely encased by the shield. She realized with a start that they yet worried about the Humans. That’s why Andulmaion still sat with her all day. The thought made her frown.

Worry wormed its way slowly around the back of her mind. She’d not thought much about safety beyond reaching Mirëdell and relaying the warning. The school was the safe-haven she’d sought, but obviously to Master Therin it was not enough. She pushed the worries and the danger the Humans presented to the side of her mind to deal with later and sent her thoughts to the main sitting room.

Andulmaion was there. Through her magesight she watched him spin his energies out, working on his spell. A book that sat open at his side pulsed with violet energy. She hadn’t realized that books could glow like that and wondered where he’d found it. The variations of color that spun from his fingertips dazzled her senses. A combination of deep yellow golds and a few lighter pale yellows, the color of straw, melded and then swirled together. He finished the spell as she watched and the energies solidified in place; all variations disappeared and it pulsed a unified yellow gold.

She watched Andulmaion sigh, dissolve the spell and start anew. Looking again at the shield surrounding the room and the technique in which it had been woven together, she knew without doubt that he’d created it. She sensed the traces of intent, and for the first time noticed faint patterns in the way the Energy felt that reminded her of him.

She brought her thoughts back to her own room and the nagging worry that the Humans presented attempted to wiggle free. She was so tired. She just wanted to be safe and forget all the horrible things in the world. She slammed the door shut on the worry, and as an escape, turned her attention toward the stone floor. Stone had no worries; she wondered how it would be to escape and just be? Ignoring all other things, she turned a singular focus toward the stone floor and let her thoughts drift through the layers of sediment.

The rock was solid, peaceful, and still.

For a long time Analindë’s mind just drifted. She fell asleep briefly, and when she awoke, was worried until she realized that her thoughts still mingled with the stone floor beneath her. Still drowsy, but deciding to explore the tower further, she settled back down into the couch and let her thoughts meander down through the travertine floor. A feeling of great age and strength seeped deep into her soul. As with all things of nature, Analindë sensed the residual energies from when it had been formed. Like most rock, its pulse was a slow, long, and steady wave of Energy almost completely faded. She followed the pulse further into the stone until she ran into Andulmaion’s shield. Stars, now what?

She decided to work her way through it.

Analindë became as still as the stone she drifted through, then watched and studied the shield as it shimmered and glistened in front of her. It took a very long while, but eventually she spotted a pattern. She watched the pattern shift this way and that, looking for a way through. When she finally puzzled it out, Analindë studied the path, searching where it led. It was a little circuitous, but the way through eventually wound from one side of the shield through to the other.

Without any thought to consequences, Analindë sent a tendril of Energy though the maze she’d found and easily reached the other side of the shield. Elated, she sent her thoughts through to the other side and then circled the tower, going up then down, exploring the tower as she went.

She sensed the faded spell that had been used to form the tower still embedded within the stone, yet she couldn’t puzzle it out. She was, however, able to sense the residue of intent which lingered from the mage who had originally cast the spell.
Stand strong, and be still. Solidify, . . . and become one.
Now the tower stood firmly on its own, without weaves or spells to assist.

Shortly thereafter, Analindë realized that parts of the tower were solid. The staircase for example. It was one solid piece of stone spiraling down through the center. The outside walls were another. From the outside it looked as if the tower had been made of blocks stacked one upon another, but it was not so. The walls were solid with just an etching upon the surface to give it an illusion of blocks.

She wondered if the tower had been built block by block and fused together or called up out of the earth in one solid piece. Either way it would have taken quite an effort to build.

Curiosity drew her on, so she explored her way out of the tower and into the school. She investigated the outer walls of Mirëdell, then moved on deep within the belly of the small city. Some structures were older than others. Just as one could look at architecture and know the age in which it was built, so too it was the same with Energy signatures. Some buildings had been built in a hurry, others had been built to last, most carried a faint shimmer of power. As she traveled deeper within the school, a feeling of great age and slumber seeped into her. She reveled in the sensations as they made her feel safe. It didn’t take her long to realize that in some sections of the city, the older the stone was, the more strongly it pulsed with strength and Energy. Her interest piqued, she followed a string of smallish rooms, each older than the last, until she reached what must have been the heart of Mirëdell when it was first founded.

She scanned the room; it was beautiful with simplicity. Planked wooden floors were worn smooth. Plastered walls were finely finished. Raw beams of wood were exposed overhead, yet they’d been polished with care until they gleamed. The design was definitely elven, yet in such a spare, simplified manner that it could have been called plain. The lines of the room were distilled down to basic shape and form. Clean and uncomplicated. There was something special about the room; she felt it in the air, just beyond her grasp of understanding.