City of Sorcerers (24 page)

The filly cautiously trotted across the square toward the southern road, her muffled hooves making dull thuds on the Stone, her nostrils flaring to catch the slightest scent. They were almost to the walled temple when they heard a yowl behind them. They looked back to see the white cat streaking across the rubble.

Wait for me!
she cried. With a powerful leap, she sprang onto a pile of stone and up into Kelene's lap.

Kelene pulled the cat close. "You're trembling," she said. "Are you all right?

Where is Sayyed?"

The cat meowed,
I am not hurt. Scared! That was big cat! I have not seen Sayyed
since lion chased him away.

"The Korg is not a real cat, you know," Kelene told her in an uneasy whisper. She was glad for the small animal's company. Talking to her helped take her mind off her own fear.

"My mother told me the Korg was once a powerful sorcerer, a shapeshifter who changed his form to hide from the warriors who destroyed this city. She thinks he has been overwhelmed by loneliness and grief and can't change back into human form."

Tam's cat hunkered down into the warmth of Kelene's lap.
Ha! that explains it.

He hunts as human, not as cat.

"What do you mean?"

He did not stalk. He did not hunt. He saw Niela and killed with paw. Cats kill
with teeth and claw.

Kelene patted the cat nervously. "Is the Korg anywhere nearby?" she asked Demira.

I cannot smell him,
the filly replied.

Kelene was grateful for that. But though the Korg was too far away for the horse to scent, it was close enough for them to hear. Roars of anger echoed through the ruined city, sometimes coming from far away, other times sounding too near for comfort. Demira hurried toward the tower by the gate, where they hoped to find the remaining travelers.

They had just passed an intersection when they heard another voice call,

"Kelene!" Kelene's heart stopped, then skipped with joy and relief.

It was Rafnir, dusty and pale under his tan. He was so glad to see her he kicked his Hunnuli, Tibor, into a canter. The stallion snorted at the crude assault to his ribs but went dutifully, his eyes glowing warm at the pleasure of seeing Demira and Kelene safe.

"Thank the gods, you're alive," Rafnir exclaimed in a rush of breath. "That Korg chased Tibor and me all over the city before we lost him. I had no idea where you were."

"What about your father?" Kelene wanted to know.

"I don't know. I haven't seen anyone else since we left the square." Deeply worried, he stared out over the ruins.

Words of reassurance came to Kelene's mind, but she rejected them. As strong and intelligent as all three magic-wielders and their Hunnuli were, the Korg was cunning, powerful, and unpredictable. Too many things could go wrong.

Together the man and woman rode silently back to the south gate, their fears for their kinsmen heavy in their thoughts.

CHAPTER TEN

A shaken Morad was the only one waiting in the shadowy tower room when Kelene and Rafnir arrived back at the southern gate late in the afternoon. The young Geldring was so glad to see them, he hugged them both before asking about the others. "Is Niela truly. . . ?"

Kelene nodded. To still the trembling of her chin, she told the men how she had built the cairn over the bodies.

Morad jerked his hands in a frustrated motion of grief and slumped to the floor to sit by his Hunnuli's feet. "Why did she have to shout? She was just supposed to find you, not announce her presence to the city."

"She was scared," Kelene replied sadly. "She probably didn't think beyond that."

The three clanspeople subsided into silence, mulling over their own thoughts as they waited for Sayyed and Savaron to return. Kelene remembered her decision to use the Watcher, so she sat down, her back against the cool stone wall, and unpinned the brooch from her tunic. Morad and Rafnir watched while she stared into the brilliant depths. When she was finished, without a word Kelene fastened the brooch back in its place.

"Tell us," Rafnir prompted.

The slender girl sighed, a sound as soft as a whisper. "There isn't much. I think Mother was resting under a tree in the Council Grove. I saw the grove full of tents. It's a mess! They're burning some sort of incense around the edges. There was so much thick yellow smoke it was hard to see details."

Her voice began to tremble, and she had to clear her throat a time or two before she could continue. "What I could see was awful: there was a stack of bodies by the council tent."

"Did you see Lord Athlone or Lymira?" asked Rafnir.

"No. Some of the priestesses were there helping, and I saw Lord Fiergan, but there was no sign of Father."

"We're running out of time," Morad said gloomily. "We could spend days poking around this blasted ruin while the Korg picks us off one by one and still come no closer to finding anything that will stop the plague." He sprang to his feet and paced back and forth in the crowded space between several fallen timbers. "What good is all of this if the clans are dead before we can get back?"

"None whatsoever," Sayyed's voice said from the entrance. The warrior strode into the room with the intensity of a man about to fight a duel to the death. His swarthy skin was flushed and sweating from exertion and his face was haggard, but his dark eyes were hard with angry resolve.

The three young people crowded around, clasping his arms and grinning with relief. Kelene hugged him fiercely. Then, to her intense relief, Savaron appeared in the doorway, also safe and unharmed. He was swiftly pulled into her arms.

"By Surgart's sword, I didn't think I'd ever give that beast the slip," Savaron swore. "He's not only big, he's cunning."

A small smile tugged at Kelene's lips. "But he doesn't hunt like a cat." The men looked blank and she added, "Tam's cat said that. I told her the legend of the Korg, that he is really a sorcerer, and she said that's why he doesn't hunt like a cat. He hunts like a human."

Rafnir scratched his jaw. "I wonder if that's true."

His father slapped his shoulder and said, "Tomorrow we're going to find out.

We're going to set a trap."

Startled, the others exchanged quizzical glances. Savaron was the first one to comprehend what Sayyed was saying. "You want to
capture
him?" he burst out, horrified and intrigued at the same time.

"He seems to be our only hope," Sayyed explained. "Morad is right, we wasted a whole day and lost Niela. I can't see the sense of keeping up this blind search when our people are dying."

"So what are you going to do with the Korg? Keep him out of the way?" asked Morad.

"We're going to see if the legend is right. If the Korg is a shapeshifter, maybe we can convince him to change back and help us find the records."

The four magic-wielders were shocked into wide-eyed consternation. "How?"

cried Kelene.

Sayyed's body seemed to sag a little, and he leaned back against the wall. "I don't know that part. I'm hoping something will present itself. Any suggestions?"

They talked quietly late into the evening, discussing every course of action, farfetched or otherwise, that they could think of. Long after the stars began to shine, they decided on a plan of sorts. Sayyed told them, "We'll set watches like last night so everyone can get some rest. You'll need your strength in the morning."

After a quick meal they bedded down, Rafnir taking the first watch. The men were quickly asleep, but Kelene could not find rest so easily. Her thoughts kept turning on a treadmill of images---the council grove with its pall of yellow smoke, the look on Niela's face when her Hunnuli died, the Korg's ferocious gold eyes---and underneath it all was a gnawing sense of urgency. Even if they found the records tomorrow, there was still a three or four day ride back to the Tir Samod. And what if the wraith was still out there beyond the walls waiting for them to step foot outside the city wards? How could they escape him again?

Kelene stewed until her restlessness propelled her from bed. without consciously intending to, she wandered outside and found Rafnir sitting on a fallen pile of rubble at the foot of the old tower. The Hunnuli stood close by, black shapes against the stone wall. Rafnir smiled, his teeth a pale blur in the darkness, and he shifted over to make room for her on his perch. Conscious of her weak ankle, she picked her way up the stones and eased down beside him.

They sat for a while in companionable silence, each glad for the other's presence.

The ruins lay around them in a black, silent mass full of dense shadows and whispers on the wind. To the west a new moon was sinking from a sky bejewelled with countless stars.

Kelene drew a deep breath of the warm night air. She was about to expel it when she saw something from the corner of her eye that made her gasp. Her hand grabbed Rafnir's arm.

"I know," he whispered. "I saw it, too."

Beyond the portals of the broken gate, past the rotting corpse of the dead horse, was a reddish phosphorescent glow standing near the remains of the lion statue that had once guarded the entrance. The figure did not move, but waited with malicious patience for the prey he knew would have to leave soon.

"That thing makes my skin crawl," Rafnir admitted.

Kelene shivered. "What does it want? Why is it trying to kill us?"

"It hasn't been very talkative," he said dryly. "But it certainly has an aversion to magic." His gaze left the wraith and settled on the corpse of his mother's Hunnuli.

"I've been thinking," he said, struggling to keep the sadness from his voice. "Finding the healers' records is only part of our problem. We still have to get them back to the gathering. We know we can't outrun the wraith, and so far, we haven't been able to outfight him, either. Demira seems to be our only hope. If she had wings, maybe she could outfly him."

Kelene dropped her eyes to Tam's Hunnuli. She remembered the frantic run across the plateau the day before and Morad's vain attempt to destroy the wraith's horse. "Yes, you're right," she murmured. "But we have a problem. Hunnuli are impervious to magic. How are we going to work a spell on Demira if the magic won't affect her?"

"That's what I've been thinking about," Rafnir answered. “We've always been told Hunnuli are impervious to magic, but none of us have ever tested that belief."

Kelene peered at him through the darkness as if he had lost his sanity. "Of course they have. Mother and Nara proved it when they fought the gorthling before we were born!"

"They proved that a Hunnuli is protected from destructive magic, but what about other kinds of spells? Maybe their resistance to beneficial magic is not so strong."

"That's crazy," snapped Kelene, and yet maybe it wasn't. It was true no one had tested the full strength of the Hunnulis' defenses. What if there were weaknesses? The possibilities popped in her thoughts like fireflies. "How do we find out?" she said in the next breath.

Rafnir squeezed her fingers. "Why don't we ask the Hunnuli?"

That seemed such a sensible idea Kelene scrambled down the rubble pile, pulling Rafnir with her. They went to the sheltered corner of the wall where the five Hunnuli were resting. None of the horses was asleep, for they were on guard against the Korg, and the close proximity of the wraith made rhem nervous. They welcomed Kelene and Rafnir into their midst with soft nickers. The pale blur of Tam's cat meowed sleepily at the two people from a warm perch on Afer's back.

Rafnir patted his stallion, Tibor, then got right to the point. "We were wondering if any of you know how strong your resistance to magic really is," he said to all five Hunnuli.

"Are you protected against all magic?" Kelene added. "Or just dangerous magic?"

The Hunnuli lifted their heads, surprised by such a question. They looked at one another, but none of them had a ready answer.

Tibor finally responded,
Certainly we are protected against any destructive
spells, but beneficial ones? I do not know.
He turned to Afer.
What do you think?

Afer did not answer at first. He was one of the oldest Hunnuli in the clans and one of the few who had once run wild in the Darkhorn Mountains before the return of sorcery. The younger Hunnuli deeply respected his wisdom, but even he seemed taken aback by the question. He stood for a long while, his deep liquid eyes lost in thought.

When at last he stirred, he shook his mane.
Many years ago, I broke my leg and would
have been destroyed if Sayyed hadn't stepped in to fight for my life. At the time, the
King Stallion told us that no magic would help Hunnuli. Yet after spending all these
years with magic-wielders, I believe the King Stallion was wrong.

The old stallion looked straight at Rafnir and Kelene.
I am not certain, but I think
a trusted rider could break through his or her Hunnuli's defense with magic, as long
as the spell is not harmful.
He broke off his words, stretched out his neck, and pointed his muzzle at Rafnir's chest.
Why do you want to know?

Kelene and Rafnir exchanged glances. "We want to give Demira something,"

Kelene said nervously. She hadn't thought until this conversation that the other Hunnuli might not approve of her idea.

Like what?
asked Savaron's stallion.

After a moment's hesitation, the girl pulled out her marble tile. "That," she said, jabbing a finger at the carving. "This is what we want to do."

The Hunnuli's excellent night vision needed no extra illumination to see the figure of the winged horse. The black horses crowded around in incredulous silence.

Even the white cat interrupted her nap to peer over Afer's shoulder.

Demira was the first one to respond.
Wings? I could have wings?
she asked, delighted.

Tibor, though, snorted in disbelief and stamped a hoof at the filly.
This is
ridiculous. Insects fly. Birds fly. Why should a Hunnuli fly?

And what law said we have to remain earthbound?
Demira retorted.