The Book of Deacon (24 page)

"I draw the line at letting the beast use the
front door," he said angrily.

"Well, tell her so," she said, in no mood to
apologize.

"I am not the one that trained her," he
said.

"Neither did I," came her reply. "She was
only a few days old when I came to you and if I had been training
her since then, I think you might have noticed."

"Then how did you get her to bring that food
back for you? Don't tell me you just asked," he said.

"No, I didn't even ask her. She did it on her
own . . . How did you know about that? Did you follow me?" she
asked.

"No. Distance-seeing. While you were off on
your fool's errand, I looked up the appropriate spell so that I
could keep an eye on you. You were only a day or so away, so it was
child's play. You say that the dragon decided to bring you food of
its own accord?" he said, eying the creature curiously.

"She did," Myranda said.

Wolloff rubbed his chin as he looked at the
dragon, who looked as though she would tear him to pieces if he
took a step closer. He reluctantly allowed Myn to stay inside, with
the stipulation that she behave herself. Myranda assured him that
she would so long as he did the same. When Myn was satisfied that
Wolloff was of no real concern, she fetched the mangled helmet,
brought it to Myranda's feet, and commenced the destruction.

"You brought that from the battleground, as I
recall," he said.

"Yes," she said.

"It--what's left of it, that is--looks like
an Alliance helmet. A fancy one at that. I must remember to inform
Caya. Troop action this far north is rare, and this deep in the
forest is rarer still. I don't like it," he said.

There was very little instruction that night,
with Myranda retiring gratefully to her bed soon after he prepared
a meal for her. Evidently Wolloff felt that her experiences in
rescuing the beast were lesson enough.

#

The weeks that followed passed much as those
before had--with one notable exception. Myn, who was protective
before, was now overprotective and always by her side. For the
first two weeks, she didn't leave Myranda for even a moment, not
even to hunt. She was worried for her health, but Wolloff dubiously
assured her that after a big meal, a dragon could go months before
eating again. In time, the dragon did leave, but only long enough
to satisfy her hunger. At all other times, she was with Myranda,
chewing and clawing at the helmet and watching Wolloff like a
hawk.

The first order of business in terms of
instruction was the addition of a spell that could be of greater
use to her than any she had learned to date. It was more difficult
to cast and was not always appropriate, but given enough time to do
its work, the spell could heal even the direst of wounds. Wolloff
called it the healing sleep, a spell that put the recipient into a
deep slumber and drew upon their own spiritual strength to
continuously cure whatever damage or disease was ailing the body.
Myranda had difficulty testing such a spell. She could not use it
on herself, and Wolloff would certainly not allow her to test it on
him. She did cast it on Myn once, with great success.
Unfortunately, the creature, upon waking, made it quite clear she
did not like being forced into sleep, likely remembering when
Wolloff had done it when they first met.

It was just past the end of the third month
of training, the midpoint, before they were interrupted again.
Spring should have come, but this far north, and in the Low Lands
in particular, the only indication of this was a sprinkle of rain
mixing with the snow occasionally. Such a storm was passing through
toward the end of the daily training session in the tower when a
commotion could be heard in the main room down stairs. The sound
alone was enough to put Myn on guard.

"Wait here. I will see what has happened,"
Wolloff instructed.

The wizard clutched the amulet and cautiously
descended the stairs. Myranda waited anxiously at the top of the
flight, Myn standing rigidly in front of her, still clutching the
chewed-up helm in her teeth. After an eternity of silence,
Wolloff's voice rang out from below. It was filled with desperation
and concern.

"Come quickly!" he yelled.

She rushed down the stairs. When she reached
the bottom, she was met with a terrible sight. It was Caya. The
once proud warrior was at death's door. Blood was dried over a
dozen wounds, and still ran from a half-dozen more. She looked as
though she had ridden the whole night through without rest, soaked
to the skin from the freezing rain and muttering, as though she had
something important to say, but no words would come.

Myn looked over the battered woman. Normally
she would view any human as a threat to her precious friend, but
somehow she seemed to know that this was different. This was
serious.

"I will tend to the more serious wounds. You
put her into the healing sleep," Wolloff ordered.

Caya put her hand on the wizard's
shoulder.

"No sleep!" she commanded. "No time."

The two healers did their best to close the
wounds and undo the damage that had been done. As her strength
began to return, Caya spoke.

"They came, they came from the south. Elites.
We didn't have time! We were unprepared! How could we be prepared?
The Elites are after the Red Shadow, not the Undermine! They
haven't been in the Low Lands for over a year! It must be a second
squad. It must be! And they are coming. They are coming for you,
Myranda," Caya said, almost in a daze.

Myranda let the words enter her ears, but
paid them no mind. There was a job to do. Everything else had to
wait. She focused her mind around the crystal and chose the
appropriate spells, casting them with equal care. The dutiful
healer kept at it, making sure that every last wound was closed
before she let the things that had been said enter her mind.

"What is going on? Who are the Elite?" she
asked.

Caya rubbed her restored legs.

"The Elites. They are the very best of the
old guard. A soldier who survives a dozen battles is a veteran. Two
dozen is a legend. When a man passes into the realm of myth, he is
made a member of the Elite. To form a second squad to find you, you
must be worth more to them than even I had thought," Caya
explained.

Myranda's head was spinning. Some of it was
due to the effort of casting the spells. Mostly it was the harsh
reality that was crashing down around her. She had only vaguely
heard of the Elites, but she shuddered to think of the man they
sought. The Red Shadow. The assassin. How could she have done
something to become as highly sought as he without knowing it? The
man had killed colonels, barons, ambassadors! All she had done was
find a sword!

"They dismantled the headquarters. Barely
escaped with my life. Lost three good men. They will be here in
hours. We need to evacuate," Caya said.

"Evacuate! We cannot evacuate! What of my
books!?" Wolloff said.

"Leave them!" she demanded.

"I will not!" she said.

"You must choose between your books and your
life," she said.

"My books
are
my life!" he proclaimed, no hint of
humor in his voice.

"I cannot afford to lose you, Wolloff. Move
now! Time is wasting!" she commanded.

"The books are irreplaceable. They are one of
a kind. If I lose them now, the knowledge within them will be lost
forever. You say that you cannot afford to lose me, but it is my
knowledge of these books that you need.
I
will
not
leave
them!"
Wolloff said.

The two strong-willed individuals launched
into a simultaneous debate, both unwilling to wait for the other to
finish talking. Myn became agitated, baring her teeth and
scratching at the floor, ready to take action if the argument
became anything more. The sound of the helmet dropping to the floor
drew Caya's attention.

"Where did this beast come from?" Caya
demanded.

"She belongs to Myranda. Keep your hands away
from her mouth," Wolloff said.

"And the helmet? Where did she find it?" she
asked.

"Some time ago, there were some soldiers to
the north of here. The beast had a run-in. What does it matter?" he
said.

"That is certainly an Elite helmet! They came
so near to you and I was not
alerted!"
she cried out.

Immediately the two started yelling again. As
the endless arguing raged, Myranda's mind was working quickly.
There had to be some sort of solution. Slowly an idea revealed
itself. It was not a perfect one, but time allowed for little
else.

"Wait!" Myranda yelled.

The two turned to her.

"If we ran. All of us. Right now. What would
we do?" Myranda asked.

"There is a safe house to the northeast. We
would head for that. Then I would contact some of our field agents
to gather enough intelligence to make a decision where to go next,"
Caya said.

"And how would we get there?" Myranda
asked.

"With a lot of legwork and all of the luck in
the world, we just might make it there with our lives," she
said.

"Then we stand to gain little by running, at
least together," Myranda said.

"What are you suggesting?" Wolloff said.

"They want
me,
right? In fact, you just might have
been left alive simply to lead them to me," Myranda said.

"I had considered that," Caya said.

"Then if they find me, they will look no
further," she said.

"No!" Caya said. "We need you. I won't let
you turn yourself in to save us. If you do that, you seal our fate
more surely than their swords ever could."

"I am not suggesting that I give myself to
them. I just want them to find me. We have one horse. Yours. These
men are in full armor and are likely well-equipped, am I correct?"
she offered.

"Very well-equipped. It might be weeks before
they need to resupply," Caya said.

"Then they are weighed down. If I go with no
supplies and no armor, then I can certainly outrun them. All I need
to do is let them see me, and then lead them away," she said.

"But where will you go? The safe house?
Myranda, the Undermine is in chaos after this attack. If you hope
to find any sanctuary, I must be with you, or you will never be
trusted," Caya said.

"No safe house. If I take refuge with your
people, then this will only happen again. Maybe in weeks, maybe
months, but it will happen. I refuse to have my life be a burden
upon you. Do you have a map?" she asked.

"Of course," Wolloff said, revealing one and
spreading it on the table, knocking the contents to the floor.

"We are here, correct?" Myranda asked.

The two others nodded in unison.

"Then it can't be more than two days at full
gallop to the eastern forest, Locke's Forest," she said.

"No horse, not even mine, could spend two
hours, let alone two
days
at full gallop. The poor thing is dead on her
feet as it is," the Undermine leader warned.

"I've learned a few spells that should keep
her moving," Myranda said.

"Mmm. Full gallop . . . day and night . . .
with no equipment . . . Perhaps you could make it in two days,"
Caya conceded.

"Do the soldiers patrol Locke's Forest well?"
Myranda asked.

"They patrol it constantly," she
answered.

"But do they patrol it
well?"
Myranda asked again.

"That forest is a quarter the size and has at
least as many trees as this one. I would wager to say there aren't
enough soldiers in the world to patrol something that dense
well,"
she
said.

"Then that is where I will go," she said. "I
have Myn. She can hunt and start fires. I need no supplies to live.
The forest is dense. If I stay alert, I
know
I can stay away from
them."

"Are you certain you want to do this? These
are Elites. They will not give up. They
will
find you," Caya warned.

"There can be no other way," she said.

"Very well, then. I will tend to the horse.
Wolloff, give her anything she needs," Caya ordered.

"I have precious little for myself, you
know," Wolloff said.

"Now is not the time for selfishness,
Wolloff. You will be reimbursed when the Undermine gets back on its
feet," she said.

"The Undermine has never
been
on its feet," he said. He
turned his head and looked unhappily at Myranda. "Come, time is
wasting."

He led Myranda through the door that had not
opened since she had arrived. Unlike the other rooms, this one was
meticulously clean. One side was much like a closet, hung with
white robes like the one he wore. The other had numerous exquisite
amulets and scepters. He carefully pulled a robe from the many and
smoothed the wrinkles. He then selected a small, delicate locket.
Finally he uncovered a small, sturdy chest that bore a lock, but no
means to open it. He whispered a word or two and the works of the
lock clicked open. Inside of the chest was a handful of gems far
clearer and much larger than any to be found upstairs. A few more
words and the locket unfolded like a flower blooming. He placed the
gem inside. It clicked shut of its own accord.

"Put this on," he said, holding out the
robe.

She slid her arms through and pulled it shut.
He then draped the locket about her neck.

"There. I bestow upon you the white robe of
the healer. You know all that you need to undo the work of all but
the most monstrous of plights. This locket will aid your focus. You
hold the distinction of being the only student I have ever had to
reach this level in less than five months--you've done it in three.
Congratulations, you've set the bar quite high," he said.