Mistweavers 01 - Enchanted No More (15 page)

“Yes.”

His head tipped back in a laugh that released some tension. “Perhaps you are right. I like the favor of the royals. The work is interesting.” He sent her a look under lowered eyelids. “Especially this mission…and the Meld Project.”

“The merging of human technology with magic?” she asked.

“Quantum physics. I don’t know much about that.”

Neither did Jenni, but she’d seen for herself that it worked, had had a brief hand in developing a storage battery spell. Even that few minutes had given her a taste for it, an itching to get her hands on one of those magical computers.

He stopped and stood in the middle of the floor, hands on lean hips, and stared at her. “No one thinks of the dryads—silly dryads, thoughtless dryads, heedless dryads—but without the dryads the forests of Earth and all they support,
including
Lightfolk, would be worse off than they are. No one gets that.” His smile was grim. “I want to be able to change that. To be able to say send resources here, to the redwoods—there, to the spruces on the mountains…and to do that, I need the ears of the Eight.”

“I understand.”

“Do you?” He looked at her and she felt his concentration. Now his smile held the faintest edge of ruthlessness. Jenni wasn’t proud that she felt a flicker of attraction. She’d been playing too many computer games where males were action heroes.

“I want to have control of my own life, and I want it to be a life worth living,” he said.

“You’ve developed expensive tastes? And most lives are worth living.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Jenni, still-optimistic Jenni.” His tone was a caress. “Most people have little control of their lives…they work for someone else in a job they endure. Lightfolk and humans alike.
You
don’t, you enjoy your work, don’t you? You are very valuable to your game developers. I want my life to be the same, under my control, with power enough to save what must be saved, what few others cherish.”

“You want to be a noble of the Lightfolk.”

“I will be.”

“Which is why you courted Synicess.” A thought that had occurred to her slipped from her lips. “And do you want me more than Synicess now because I’m a princess, too?”

He glared at her. “I have some honor.”

“But that
is
a consideration. We have a history. Maybe you think I’m easier to manipulate.”

He snorted with amusement, holding his stomach until huge laughs rolled from his mouth and he stumbled to a chair and fell into it. “Jenni…Mistweaver…easy…to…manipulate.” He gasped and hooted.

Jenni glared at him.

“You are sitting in the finest guest suite in the Mid-North American Earth Palace because the Fire Queen, your kin, needed somewhere to talk to you, to convince you that this mission is important.”

“Which she didn’t.”

“Yet.” After dragging in a deep breath, he stood. “But you should know that this mission is very important to me. I convinced you to accept it.”

“You blackmailed me into it.”

He waved a hand. “I told you of the circumstances of your brother.”

The anger that the Eight had sent Rothly rose, tasting like ashes in her mouth.

“I knew you wouldn’t let Rothly die.” Aric walked over to sit next to her again. “And you were the only one who could save him.” His gaze, when it met hers, was sincere. “We might have tried, but no one else can go into the interdimension.”

“No one else?”

He shook his head. “The elemental balancing gift has not been found in any other lineage, any family, any individual, and believe me, the Eight searched. The Eight themselves can adjust and balance the energies of an area…like this palace, but not calibrated to the exactness that you did this morning. Though now since Rothly has healed…”

Jenni studied Aric and decided to tell him her conclusions. Word would get out soon enough. “Rothly doesn’t have elemental balancing powers anymore.”

Aric’s eyes widened. “But he was healed. I
felt
some of the creative energies flow through him, changing him.”

Jenni hadn’t paid much attention to the different aspects of the bubble event. When she had a moment alone, she’d try to remember everything, moment by moment. What had Aric experienced? And the guardians? Aric might actually tell her if she asked. She filed away the topic for later. “My brother’s magic is not as fractured as it was. He may have another strong gift, but I don’t know what it is except that I doubt he’ll ever be able to access the interdimension.”

Again the ruthless smile curved Aric’s mouth. “Then perhaps I should pass the information on to the Eight that Rothly’s magic should be tested.” Aric stood and crossed to the door.

“Rothly won’t like that.”

“Being treated as if he were a young child? But he’s acted as such for a long time now,” Aric said and Jenni wondered how old she’d been acting, how old Aric thought she’d been acting. That didn’t matter.

He bowed to her and Jenni thought there was just the faintest hint of mockery in his action, but couldn’t call him on it. “I will be here at eight forty-five to escort you to the Emberdrake suite.” His gaze slid over her, from head to toe. “The queen said informal, but I doubt you have a gown in your bags, you might want to contact your Hartha for that—and you should take advantage of the bathing pool.”

“Are you saying I smell?”

He kissed his fingers like a chef. “Essence of Jindesfarne. I’ve always appreciated the scent, but I’m not sure of others.”

Leaving her speechless, he opened the door and walked through, then closed it softly behind him.

For a suite decorated in air colors, it had a large bathroom dedicated to water play. The tub was more like a spa pool and of gorgeous blue tile with flecks of gold. Jenni chose the shower stall with three jets on opposite walls, stood in the center and let the water pound her and steam rise, until every pore felt clean. Then she dressed in clean, comfortable clothes—red cashmere sweater and thick black sweatpants of heavy cotton, nice soft socks—and went back to the sitting room to stare out the window. It rose from floor to ceiling, and was not symmetrical, but roughly a half circle. She wondered what mountain it was a part of, and what range it looked out on. Surely well-disguised to mortal eyes. Aric was right, the suite was magnificent, no doubt usually housing guests of much greater magic and rank than she.

She glanced at the books on the coffee table. The day had been too stressful for her to want to open them. Besides, now she was warm and safe and clean, sleep was dragging her eyelids down. She crossed to the buttery leather couch facing the window and sank onto it, plumped one of the accent pillows under her head, pulled a down comforter—surely priceless elven work—over her. She stared at the dark skies bright with constellations she couldn’t see in Denver until her eyes closed and she fell asleep.

And the memories she’d been fighting for the last two days attacked her.

SHE KNEW SHE’D BEEN CATAPULTED INTO THE
past, knew she dreamed, but her innermost self wouldn’t let her wake, forced her to relive the worst moments of her life.

The dream started soft and mistily and wonderfully, as if all around her was an impressionistic picture painted with joyful brush strokes.

Just as the past morning had begun, but now dread was in her heart, in every droplet of blood.

Aric’s lazy voice said, “Stay with me.” As she looked at him, redwood-skinned against the white sheets, her heart thumped with renewed desire. They’d loved most of the night, slept little, and now the sun was up and it was time for her to meet her parents to prepare for the Lightfolk ritual in an hour and a half. She hesitated.

Aric sat up, took her in his arms, kissed her, and the feel of his body against hers increased the longing to find ecstasy again. Surely she’d dance a ritual better, draw the sheets of elemental energies faster if she were happier. “My family is expecting me.”

He raised his head, grin flashing, eyes crinkling. “Your family is always early for everything.” He tugged her back down.

“Supposed to be there an hour early…uphold halfling honor…” But she gave in when his lips closed over hers and his mouth explored her own and his taste, the taste of lover and love, exploded through her. Then she nipped his full lower lip, fisted her fingers in his long and silky hair and moved over him. “We’ll be fast.”

He laughed. “This time. Later—”

She stopped his words by sliding onto him.

The sweetness of loving blurred fast in her memory, the pleasure of the day squashed beneath the heavy weight of all the rest.

She’d finished smoothing her underwear when fear struck her. Her mother screaming, injured! Grabbing the first clothes at hand, sweatshirt and jeans. Sliding her feet into shoes, flinging the lodging door open, she ran.

Fire magic pushed her fast. She didn’t recall her feet hitting the ground, more like skimming over the grass.

Horrible sounds came—clashing swords. Terrible smells—blood and death, human, Lightfolk,
Darkfolk!

She ran toward her mother’s screams, saw Four walk through the summoned dimensional portal from the corner of her eyes. A line of skirmishing in front of her. A gap…near her mother. Red blood. A final gurgle, and death.

Time slowed and each running step of hers lasted way too long, minutes, maybe hours. Too late!

Most of her family—save Rothly and her sister Nettie, stepped from the gray mist. Armed
things
swooped upon them, and they fell. The shock of their loss, their deaths, swept through her like icy hail, chilling her. She screamed and bolted forward, more guards swarmed into the area, around her dead and dying family. She dodged left, right…saw her mother dead, her torso slit from neck to crotch. Wrenching her eyes aside, she saw two brothers and a sister in a heap of glittering colorful clothes stained with blood.

“Jenni,” her father whispered.

She stared at him, his long and scholarly face gray-skinned and pale. He was on the ground, holding his side where blood spurted. “Go, Jenni, into the mist. Help Rothly and Nettie.” His smile had turned faint, his eyes had dulled. “I love you. I love you all.”

Jenni had stood until her sister Nettie had popped out of the interdimension, taken a look around her at her dead family, the fighting, and gone into hysterics—then was blasted by a bolt of dark lightning that shot to her center, blackly boiling away her skin. Killed by a great Dark one’s magic.

Mewling escaped Jenni and she doubled over. Aric ran into her line of sight. He scooped up a long elven blade from a fallen warrior, rushed to the new King and Queen of Air, fought, even as Jenni called to him, mentally and with her weak voice. If he’d heard, he hadn’t answered. He fought.

A desperate Rothly had managed to
half step
out, something that shouldn’t have been possible. He’d been holding all the magic the whole family had gathered, letting it slip trickling from his grasp so there would be no explosive release. He’d grabbed Jenni.
“In!”

She’d flung off his hand, shouted the spell to enter the gray mist, saw a black and bloody knife coming toward her and jumped into the interdimension…catching sight of a bolt of dark oily purple magic hitting Rothly’s arm, twisting it,
bending
it like malleable plastic.

Then she was in the gray mist with huge sheets of flaming elemental energies on the verge of enveloping all. Sobbing, she concentrated on controlling them. Taking what she could from Rothly, who was now entirely in the mist, but shaking wildly, his aura broken, Jenni set her feet and unwound and released the powers her family had gathered.

Then a long, flashing time of effort, sweating and swearing and hoping that the energies wouldn’t escape her grasp, slip from her wet palms and limp and disoriented mind. Explode and kill all. She couldn’t see or hear Rothly, he was more than a pace or two away. Finally the massive sheets of energies drifted away, Rothly exited the interdimension. She swayed. She didn’t want to step from the mist into a hideous reality. But Rothly needed her, and she needed him…so she emerged from the interdimension into a beautiful summer afternoon and bloodied and blackened earth and broken beings.

The battle was over, and the Lightfolk had begun to take care of those lost to death.

Jenni stared at a freshly turned area of earth. A large headstone with the names of her family was already there. A fluting, elffem voice said, “This is my land and they are resting and will be honored forever.”

That was no comfort.

Her family was gone and she hadn’t been there to help. She had failed them.

“I’ll take you to Rothly.” Soft fingers closed around her arm and she was led away and minutes passed and she was next to Rothly’s bedside and he was spitting at her. Throwing salt and silver, casting her out. “You weren’t
there!
You failed us, failed me. You were with Aric, weren’t you? Having sex, instead of helping your family.”

She couldn’t deny it. Couldn’t speak at all. Was hot and cold and hurting and numb.

Rothly’s gaze went beyond her. “Aric, you betrayed me, as well.” Another handful of salt and silver was flung. “I disown you as a friend.” His lips twisted. “You both are dead to me. Go, and never let me see you again.”

Her eyes blurred with tears and the heavy scent of despair and blood thinned, replaced by the fragrance of the high country in winter. Fresh snow, pines…and sulphur.

It’s Fritterworth!
The mental scream of terror jolted Jenni from her doze…where nightmares waited at the dark edges of her mind.

Mistress, help! Help me!

Shaking her head to vanquish the dreams, she called mentally,
Fritterworth?

Out here, I’m out here on the balcony. Open the door.

She rubbed her temples, his desperation speared pain into her head so she couldn’t think. Jenni stumbled to the door.
Hartha took you to safety.

Your cat died and they wouldn’t keep me.

“What?” Not Chinook. How could that happen? Her hand was on the crystal doorknob. She flung it open and stepped onto the high ledge. Cold. There was a small shadow perched on the outcropping and she blinked to clear her vision.

Jenni!
It echoed in two voices. The brownie transformed into a shadleech, then a gray-colored crow, beak clicking. And in the air before her hung the Dark one. All blackness and white, sharp teeth dripping…something.

“You are mine now. Outside the Earth Palace. The shields up here thin enough for me to call a halfling.” Rich satisfaction laced his voice.

She couldn’t move. Was aware of piercing cold.

He drew closer, hovered over the ledge she stood on, lifted her arm and set her wrist to his mouth of many teeth. Bit down, hard. Needles of slicing pain became shards, became
teeth.
It took her breath, took her strength, and she fell, her arm ripping wide. He let her, stayed over her. This time it was her blood dripping from his teeth.

Her blood, her energy, her magic was
pulled
from her as if one great nerve was unraveled and stretched and grabbed and slurped.

Agony.

She cringed. Found she could curl herself into a ball. His pleasure at the taste of her blood and being whipped her like nettles.

Couldn’t think much, pulled against him and tautened the link between them and he cackled.

She rolled to the edge of the ledge…no rail, but a deadly fall would be better than this! She bumped into a magical shield and the energies flared huge and colorful and screamed in a thousand earthslide, wildfire, flood-water, tornado sounds—pounding through her, giving her enough strength to jerk away—or maybe it was the shock of the alarm that loosened the Dark one’s hold, but she rolled close to the edge.

And sobbed.

Her body shook and she gasped and fell off the ledge.

Gasped again as shadleeches followed her and attached to her wounds and feasted. She
yanked
at the nearest sheet of energy. Fire. Wrapped it around her and sizzled the shadleeches and soaked it into her skin and got enough firestorm to lightning away home.

Crack!

King Emberdrake caught her in the middle of the air, pulled her from lightning-form to Jenni. Naked and panting.

Dizzy, her head lolled and she saw a midair battle…. Lightfolk warriors, the three other kings and Queen Emberdrake, flying. Aric stood, sword dripping ichor, on the rocky ledge outside her window.

Cloudsylph cursed, his words mixing with hisses from the fire royals. “He got away! Kondrian!” But the thing’s name did not draw him back to the fight. The Air King slammed his sword into its sheath against his thigh, looking as ugly as an elf could in his rage.

“Bring her to me.” The Water Queen’s voice was low and lovely and soothing, her arms were outstretched. Jenni hiccupped with tears.

She was placed in the woman’s arms and the pressure on her body made her scream and she was gone.

Jenni awoke surrounded by liquid. She shouldn’t have been able to breathe, but she could. Slowly she uncurled. The sphere holding her was huge, about fifteen feet in diameter. Peering through the greenish wall, she saw a room just large enough to contain it with a few feet on each side holding a couple of chairs. She thought the floor and the walls were tiled…easy to clean up when the orb popped, she supposed.

She looked at her arm. The torn and gnawed flesh still gaped but there was no sign of bone, an improvement.

A movement caught her eye and she swam—with ease, with no pain, whatever this liquid was, it was great—to the bottom of the globe to see a brownie. The woman who had watched over Rothly hopped from a large wing-backed chair.

Thank you for caring for me, browniefem,
Jenni said.

The woman peered at her, eyes wide.
You are welcome, Princess.

Jenni found herself shaking her head, her hair waving, tugging at her scalp.
How is my brother?

The brownie lifted her lip in disdain.
He is healing and unpleasant.

Oh. Jenni wiggled and it affected her whole body. The water was soothing. She licked her lips, as if she would be speaking aloud instead of mentally, and projected,
The Dark one told me my cat was dead. Do you know if that is true?
Even her mental tones were pitiful.

The browniefem tilted her head. Jenni could only pray that she was consulting with Hartha at home in Denver.

The cat is well. Lively. She likes having a brownie to tend her.
The small woman shuddered.

And Fritterworth?
Just thinking the name brought back the horrible ordeal of nightmares and the Dark one.

There is no such brownie called that. A brownie has been renamed “Crag.”
Even through the distorting liquid inside the bubble, Jenni could hear the small woman’s snort.
A stupid cat-name. Who would call a BROWNIE a crag?

He’s bigger than she is,
Jenni pointed out.
And the name has a certain solidity.

The browniefem dipped her head.
That could only help.
She motioned with her long four-jointed fingers and Jenni swam closer, until her head touched the odd liquid plasticity of the sphere. The minor earth woman placed her hand close to Jenni’s forehead.
Sleep and heal!

And Jenni’s consciousness floated into the darkness.

When she woke up again, Aric was in the chair, relaxed but not asleep.
Aric?

He glanced up at her, stood and shook his limbs out. She noticed he had a broadsword tilted against the chair arm. Walking close to her globe and shaking his head, he said telepathically,
It isn’t often that a halfling gets to swim in the primordial waters of life. Never that I heard
.

Well, the Eight need me. Looks like the Darkfolk are interested in the creativity bubble, too.

Aric’s smile was sharp.
The Darkfolk love power and that bubble should grant it
.

Power for the Eight.

For the whole magical community
. He raised a hand, palm out.
So they say, and I believe them.

Jenni kicked and swam the short circuit around the bubble.
Shortsighted of Kondrian to eat me instead of use me as the Eight are, to balance the energies during the bubble event.

The Darkfolk like immediate gratification of their appetites.