A Guardian of Shadows (Revenant Wyrd Book 4) (28 page)

The door to Sara's suite opened up, and Annbell came to rest behind the large desk. She pressed her fingers together and tapped them against her chin, as if in thought.

“I think he will talk easily enough,” Annbell said.

“Even if he doesn't want to talk, I have ways,” Mag said.

“I'm sure you do.”

“This wyrd,” Mag started. “I think what you told me about Azra is right.”

“Oh?” Annbell asked, leaning forward, resting her arms on the desk. “What makes you think that?”

“Well,” she looked behind her toward the box with the orb.

“Have you felt this gathering darkness to the west?” Annbell asked her.

“No. In fact, when I came in here, when I learned about Van, Sara had been sitting where you rest now, staring into the Orb of Aldaras.”

“But how? She's been too ill for days to even move out of bed.” Annbell looked toward the box as if she could glimpse what lay inside through the green embossed wood.

Mag shrugged. “It's not that she was staring into the orb that concerned me. What
did
bother me was that the Beast was staring back out at her.”

Maeven sat back with a hiss on his lips. Annbell's eyes darkened.

“Do you think the orb is bad?” she asked.

“No,” Mag shook her head for emphasis. “But I do think that it foretold something. I grabbed Sara's riding cloak and threw it around the ball, and something fell out of a pocket. A parchment with a list of names on it, with ages scribbled beside them. It took me a while to decipher it, but when I did, this is what I found.”

She took the paper from the deep pockets of her velvet robes and slid it across the table to her Guardian. Annbell opened it and read it over. The expression on her face didn't change, but her eyes grew intent on the paper.

“Are you sure that you deciphered it properly?” Annbell asked her without looking up.

“I do.” Mag folded her hands in her lap.

“And what do you make of this?” Annbell asked.

“What do you make of it?” Mag asked.

Annbell stood and turned to the large floor-to-ceiling windows behind the desk. She leaned against the window frame and looked out at the Barrier Mountains beyond. She was silent for some time as she watched the snow fall, her arms clasped over her chest, her shoulders hunched in the black fur robes.

“I think the attacks on the towns aren't from the caustics. I've thought that for some time,” Mag told her.

“I’m not sure I agree with this paper, or with Azra. It doesn't feel the same,” Annbell said, talking about the time before the splitting.

“Do you not agree with Azra because of fear, Guardian, or do you truly think the alarists aren't on the rise again, waiting for their master to govern them once more?” Mag asked.

Annbell turned to her.

“Oh, I didn't say I didn't think alarists weren't in charge of the destruction, but it doesn't feel like Arael is back.”

“Have you sensed this growing power in the west like Azra said she has?” Mag asked.

“I haven't been able to; it is beyond my reach, which tells me that it isn't part of the land, or I would be able to feel it.”

“It is beyond the lands of man, it is in a space between,” Mag told her.

“You've felt it?” Annbell asked, coming to stand behind the chair, studying Mag.

“I have.”

“And what do you think?” Maeven asked her.

“I think the paper is right.”

Annbell worried the side of her mouth, and sat heavily down in the chair.

“You would know his power better than I,” Annbell said. “We have much to do, and not much time to do it before the tide of war breaks upon our mountains. We need you to question Van. How long do you think that will take you?”

“Not long at all,” Mag said.

“You sound confident,” Maeven said, and swallowed hard.

“I have my ways. He will talk quickly,” Mag said.

“And if I can figure out that accursed telfetch, I will send word to the other Guardians with what we’ve found out. I have no idea how to convince them of what you found on the paper, or how to even frame that. Who in their right mind would believe a puzzle on a paper? Where did it even come from?” Annbell wondered.

“I think we won't know that until Sara is awake again. It did come from her cloak,” Maeven pointed out and Annbell nodded.

“I will get to work, that is where our journey starts,” Mag said, and Annbell dismissed her with a nod of her head.

“Do whatever you will with him afterward, I have no further use of him.”

The door hissed shut behind Mag. Having been in the brightness of Sara's office a few moments before, the darkness of the room was near-blinding. She channeled her wyrd into a light and tossed it to the center of the room, where it bobbed angrily above Sara's bed, giving an eerie green cast to the bedchamber.

Van stirred immediately.

“I will talk!” he cried out, seeing Mag standing there, hands folded into the large sleeves of her dark red robe.

She sighed.
This isn't going to be fun.
Mag sat down on the edge of Sara's bed, and motioned for him to continue.

“It is dust from the stone called Wyrders’ Bane. Someone high up with the chaos dwarves was giving it to me to put in her tea.”

Mag's head swam. Wyrders’ Bane. How in the Realms was that going to be cured now that it was in her bloodstream?

“I didn't know she was bad at first,” he said. “The dwarf told me that Sara was sick, and that this herb would help her. She wouldn't tell me what herb it was, and I wasn't going to give Sara any of it, but she did seem to be ailing, so I slipped a little into her tea. When she got worse, I thought it would take a little bit of time for the medicine to kick in, so I kept giving it to her. It was then the dwarf told me what it really was. By that time Sara was addicted and it got to the point if she didn't have any regularly, she would start getting really sick, so I had to keep giving her more and more until…”

“She was at the edge of death?” Mag asked quietly, looking up at Vanparaness. He was young, reminding her so much of her oldest son.

He took a deep breath, and let it out in a near sob.

“I didn't know,” he pleaded.

Mag believed him. By the time he had figured out what was happening, it was already too late.

“I was to meet with her again on the day of the full moon, in the Guardian's Garden. She is supposed to bring more.”

“Who is she?” Mag asked, standing. He flinched back.

“I think she is known as the Looker,” he told her.

“So the dwarves have a seer,” Mag said to herself. “Very interesting.”

“Are you going to kill me?” Van asked.

Mag didn't answer; she opened the door, and with a tug of her wyrd, she dragged him along with her into the office.

“That
was
fast,” Maeven commented.

“Don't get excited, I didn't have to do anything. He gave up his information willingly,” Mag said, and Maeven smiled.

Annbell didn't look up from the pile of letters in front of her. The silver telfetch sat open at her elbow, and she had a pair of glasses resting on her nose, reading over the papers.

“Aladestra sure writes a lot of silly letters,” Annbell commented. “You would think sometimes she can’t take hold of her own realm, and is seeking council from all of us on what she should do.”

"More letters from Aladestra?" Mag asked.

"I wish it was just frantic letters from her. Attacks seem to be happening more and more frequently, and in each Realm. We seem to have gotten off lightly, with only the attack on the academy."

"Lightly," Maeven said from the corner. "That's the word for it."

"Considering we are facing a battle with an unknown outcome, I side with Maeven," Mag said. Annbell made a vague noise that could have been either agreement or dismissal.

"Five in the Realm of Air; Nanta in the Realm of Water; several caravan towns in the Realm of Fire; and our academy." Annbell leaned back, looking out the window at the surprisingly clear day.

"
Five
in the Realm of Air?" Mag whistled. "And the capital city of the Realm of Water. What is Pyang going to do?"

"No word from him yet. I'm assuming he lived, since he can travel through water as I can earth."

Maeven shivered.

"What happened?" Maeven asked.

"Someone brought the roof down. The entire Nanta Lake flooded the city."

Mag closed her eyes and shook her head. She had friends that lived there. She could only hope they had made it out, or died quickly. "Nothing in the Holy Realm?" Mag asked.

"Nothing that we’ve been informed about," Annbell conceded. "There's always tomorrow I guess."

"What are we going to do?" Mag asked.

"We are upping security in our cities. With Greenwood already destroyed by a caustic, we are able to shift a few people around to other places. I guess we will just wait and see, but try to be proactive. The guards and constables know what to look for."

Mag nodded. Annbell was vague, but at least she had a grip on it.

She tossed the stack of letters onto the desk and leaned back in the chair. She rested her head against the cushion and looked lazily at Vanparaness.

“What are we going to do with him?” Mag asked.

“Kill him,” Annbell said flippantly.

“No, please!” Van begged, and again, he would have fallen to his knees if Mag's wyrd hadn’t held him erect.

“But I know you believe in the sanctity of life now,” Annbell said to Mag.

“While I no longer take a life easily, I would do so if my Guardian wished.”

“You said he talked willingly?” Annbell said.

“I didn't even have to say anything before the floodgates opened.”

“We will have him taken to the dungeons,” Annbell said. She pulled a cord beside the desk, and a guard stepped in. “Please see Mr. Vanparaness out of this office.”

The guard nodded. Mag loosened her wyrd, and Van left the office compliantly, with a long list of thank-yous until the office door cut off his trail of words.

“He was poisoning her with dust from Wyrders’ Bane,” Mag started, and told them all of what Van had told her.

“That's the stone that Sara has been talking about?” Maeven asked.

“The one they used to torture Cianna,” Annbell confirmed.

“If she was drinking that…” Mag said.

“What are you thinking?” Maeven asked.

“It's not good,” Mag told them. “I've been thinking about it, and she will most likely need a complete wyrd transfusion.”

“And how is that done?” Annbell asked.

“I will research it. I know the steps, but not the ritual,” Mag told her. “It isn't a simple working like sorcerers are used to; it will take a magic circle and proper timing. The wyrd needs to be drained from her, and a conduit opened to the Well of Wyrding for fresh wyrd to flow in.”

“Mag, you have been more help than I would ever have hoped for,” Annbell said. “On behalf of the Realm and both Guardian Seats, I would like to promote you to defense counselor.”

Mag didn't know what to say. Living here with the Guardians, in charge of all Realm defense? Her head swam. She would be in charge of the military and the upcoming war.

She looked for a chair and sat down heavily.

“I know it is a lot to ask, since we haven't had to use that position in a while, but you seem most fitted for it, and we will need help with what is to come.”

“I accept,” Mag said. “But what about my family?”

“We will have them brought here, and I will make sure your suites are ready to accept them in a few days’ time. But for now, you have research to do on this transfusion, and I would like you, as defense counselor, to take care of this Looker situation.”

“I think I can meet her at the arranged time, and see to it that she will never come back,” Mag agreed.