The Fire Mages' Daughter (41 page)

We all stood in silence around the crucible. So many matters of life and death transacted here, so many people desperate for relief from pain or illness or injury. And lesser matters, too. Good crops. Safe travelling. The birth of a healthy baby. And yes, rain for the parched farms in summer. So many petitioners had brought their silver to the mages, and stood where I now stood, hoping the gods would smile on them and the spell would be successful.

And when Mother scribed them, the gods always smiled.

She stepped forward and placed several spellpages in the crucible, then recited the words:
“By the sun, bring light and fire and colour; by the moon, enable the darkness.”

Reaching for a shard from the fire, she lit the spellpages, which flared instantly to life. A whole rainbow of colours burst out into the midst of dazzling light, and were gone to ash before I could turn away from the brilliance.

The spells were sent forth to do their work. There was nothing more we could do but pack for our journey and hope for the best. I tried to resist the temptation to rush to the window to check for rain, but eventually Mother grew impatient with me.

“Weather magic isn’t instant, like healing,” she said. “It works in its own sweet time.”

And she was right, as always. By the time our eagles lifted off from the roof of the Keep, close to midnight, the first fat raindrops were spattering around us.

The eagles were happy to be flying again. They’d been restless sitting on top of the Keep, but it wasn’t safe to let them loose, even to hunt, in case they met up with their fellows again. We were less happy about flying. We were wrapped up in our warmest clothes, and well-fuelled with magic, but the night air was still frigid. We all carried packs on our shoulders with food and blankets, since we would need to camp for at least one night along the way.

For hour after hour we flew, Cal in the lead, Mother in the middle, and me behind her, watching for any sign that she was tiring. We followed the faint, pale line of the road below us. Once we were clear of the rainclouds of Kingswell, there was enough starlight to guide us, although the moon had set. Here and there lamps flickered far below us, reassuring in the darkness. Even though the Blood Clans had stormed through here like a gale, there was still life down there, in the farms and villages and towns and wayside inns. People were picking themselves up and rebuilding their lives.

As the night wore on and we flew further north, the lights became less frequent, and then disappeared altogether. I told myself that this part of Bennamore was less populated, but I wasn’t convinced. I’d heard all too graphic descriptions of encounters with the Clans on their march to Kingswell.

Dawn brought a crisp autumn light to the scenery, but we were too cold and tired to appreciate the clarity of the air or the glistening hint of frost on the ground. We landed once to stretch our legs, and have something to eat, Mother pale but determined not to give up, and even Cal subdued. I was too numb to speak. My very bones were frozen, and my stiff fingers dropped the piece of cheese I was struggling to eat.

Without a word, we remounted and carried on. Another stop late in the morning, and then onwards, endlessly, as the road unspooled below us, through moors and woodland and rolling hills.

“There!” Cal yelled, pointing.

The High Citadel at last, and beside it the squat shape of the inn where I’d stayed on my first visit to the Clan lands. Not much further now to the fortress. My heart lifted at the thought of it. I would see Arran again, and spend the night safely in his arms. And there would be hot water, and decent food and wine, and fires to warm my bone-chilled body.

I was so busy thinking about the delights to come, that I wasn’t paying much attention to my surroundings. It was only when Cal wheeled round and pointed towards the fortress that I realised.

It was under attack. Swarms of beasts surrounded it, far more than in the original attack. Small puffs of fire showed that the mages were throwing firestones. A cloud of birds circled above the fortress, spinning and jinking about to avoid the archers. I saw them grab a figure from the battlements and carry it away. Then another.

Arran! Oh, sweet merciful gods, let him be all right!

Cal pointed away to the west, to the rocky hills there. I shook my head, and pointed frantically at the fortress. “We have to help them!” I cried.

“Too many,” he shouted back. “Let’s land over there and rethink.”

He was already diving down, Mother following. We passed over the first low range, and headed down into the narrow valley beyond.

And then we were in the midst of chaos. The eagles screaming, arrows whirring past my head, Cal shooting flames. Sunshine spun on a wingtip and frantically struggled for height to get out of range, the great wings straining with each desperate beat. I caught another glimpse of Cal, flaming again.

Below me, faces upturned, figures shouting, pointing. Uniforms. Bennamorians! Our own people shooting at us.

And then Mother’s eagle screamed in pain. I glanced round, briefly saw a wing pierced by a crossbow bolt. The bird careered downwards at a crazy angle. Down, down they went, spiralling out of control, too fast, far too fast.

I shrieked with fear, urging Sunshine to follow. But it was too late. Eagle and rider dropped below the hills, lost to my view.

Sunshine carried me over a gap between two low hills, barely skimming the ridge. No soldiers below me now, thank the gods, and there ahead of me was Cal, flying low and fast. I urged Sunshine on, as fast as she could manage, but she was close to exhaustion.

Another lower ridge, and there was the ditch and earth bank and beyond it the long slope down to the lake. I still couldn’t see Mother’s eagle, only Cal’s some distance in front of me. Mine was the smallest of the three and gradually she fell behind, despite her valiant efforts. But now at least it was downhill and she could glide, first over rough grass, then the abandoned huts of the supplies camp and on, over the lake. My heart plummeted. Mother’s eagle was injured and barely able to glide. Surely she would crash into the water and drown? But I saw no splash.

Cal was far ahead of me now, no more than a distant speck. His eagle veered left to avoid the island in the middle of the lake and then veered again. I lost sight of him behind the thickly wooded slopes that clothed the only hill on it. Sunshine, too, swerved and then I was past the island, straining my eyes to find Cal again. I couldn’t see him, but the edge of the lake was close now, very close, and my poor exhausted eagle flopped down onto the first patch of grass above the rocky shoreline. I hadn’t the heart to urge her to fly again. I threw myself down on the grass beside her and lay, unmoving, until my heart stopped pounding.

But I had no time to rest. I had a supply of jade stones in my pack, to replenish my energy levels. I slid the pack off my shoulders, to find a red-tipped arrow embedded in it. Bennamorian colours. I couldn’t blame them. How could they know that I was one of them, and not the enemy? When three eagles descended on them, they responded as they were trained to do. But if they had killed my mother…

I pulled out a jade stone, and health-giving magic poured into me. I was supposed to ration the stones, just take a little here and there, as I needed it, but it felt so good, filling me with energy, that I didn’t stop until the stone was drained and lifeless.

This far side of the lake was quite different. There was no gentle slope or smooth grassy sward. Instead, a sandy cliff towered above my head, with only a narrow strip of grass and rock between it and the lake. But the cliff was crumbled and uneven, fallen into huge square blocks that were easy to climb. Energised by magic, I was soon at the top.

Barely a hundred paces away, the black-bark forest loomed, dark and compelling. This close to it, I could feel something – some trace of magic, perhaps – emanating from it. But it was like no magic I’d ever encountered before. Nothing like my mother’s pure gold. But not like Ly-haam’s blurred and muddy form, either. This was black, and it was alive.

With a shiver of revulsion, I turned away.

Further along the lake, a small promontory jutted into the water, creating a sheltered bay with a narrow pier, and a small stone structure. A flash of movement! It could only be Cal and Mother. I half ran along the clifftop, and as I drew nearer, the little bay shifted into focus and I could make out two large, dark shapes and one smaller shape. The eagles, then. But only one rider? Anxiety spurred my feet forwards.

Two of them! And both moving… they were safe!

Relief washed through me, and I paused to catch my breath, weak and shaky all of a sudden. One of them looked up, saw me, waved exuberantly. They were happy to know I was safe, too. We were together again. If only Arran…

But I wouldn’t think of that. Not yet. I had no time to fall apart.

I hopped and skipped down the cliff, then raced around the tiny bay to where Mother sat beside her eagle.

“Are you all right?” I shouted as soon as I was close enough.

She waited until I was practically on top of them. “Of course, dear.”

“I thought you were dead!” I flopped down beside her, and threw my arms around her. “I’m so glad you’re not.”

“Mages are quite hard to kill, actually,” she said. “My poor bird took the worst of it. A crossbow bolt right through one wing. Quite a lot of damage. She did well to stay aloft as long as she did. But Cal got the bolt out, and I’ve healed her as best I can.”

“As best you can?” I was confused. “I thought you could heal anybody.”

“People, yes. I can fix most things. Birds are different. I’ve mended the bones, but they’re so delicate. And the feathers – she has feathers missing and I can do nothing about that. So she must take the time she needs to heal fully, before she can fly again.”

That wasn’t what I wanted to hear, but if Mother couldn’t fix it, no one could.

“Ah, here’s your eagle,” Cal said.

I hadn’t called her, but she must have wanted to follow me, for here she was, waddling along the shore with her strange lurching motion. She came straight to me, leaning down to rest her head, very gently, on my shoulder. I buried my face in her feathers, soothing her in my mind. Oddly, her joy at being with me cheered me up.

But there wasn’t time to enjoy such pleasing moments.

“Are we safe here?” I said. The island hid us from the fortress and the beasts and birds besieging it, but if more emerged from the black-bark forest, we were in trouble.

“Not sure,” Cal said. “If the worst comes to the worst, we have two fit eagles and a boat. We can take shelter on that island there, even if we can’t fly.”

I hadn’t noticed the boat, a simple round type, propelled by a pole. Used to convey Blood Clan children to their sacred island, no doubt.

“However, I think we can risk staying here for a while. But at least we’ll be warm tonight. There’s a brazier inside the boatman’s hut.” It took me a moment to realise that he meant the small stone building beside the pier. “I’ll gather some firewood.”

“Don’t go into the forest!”

He grinned. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

While he bustled about, and Mother dozed curled up beside her eagle, I sat cross-legged at the edge of the water. After a while, Cal folded himself down beside me.

“You’re worried about him,” he said without preamble. Then, without waiting for my reply, he went on, “The battlements are stiff with archers, you know. They’ll drive the birds away. And the walls and gates are solid. I don’t imagine those…
things
can get in.”

I nodded, unable to find any words. If I tried to speak, I would cry, and that was no use to Arran or anyone else.

“It’s natural to be afraid for him,” he said. “There’s nothing more terrifying than watching the person you love more than anything in the world in mortal danger.”

His voice wobbled a little, and I knew he meant Mother. Impulsively, I reached out for his hand and squeezed it. He smiled wanly at me, but, irrationally, anger bubbled up in me. I was comforting him, but Mother was the world’s most powerful mage. She’d said herself that mages were hard to kill. Whereas Arran…

No.

Think about something else.

“May I tell you something strange?” I said. His thin face lit up with glee. “Well, here it is. All the way from Kingswell, I’ve been aware of Ly-haam, very faintly, but enough to know the direction. He was always to the north and west. And now he isn’t. He’s in the opposite direction.”

“What? How did he get past us?”

“It’s the other way round – we got past him. We’ve come far enough north that we’ve gone beyond his hiding place.”

“Then where?” Cal stood up and gazed southwards, beyond the island to the border.

“I can’t be sure, but I think he’s right where I’m looking now.”

“The island? Oh – the
island
!
This
island! Not the one on the inland sea that he took you to, then?”

“No. That was what I thought at first, but now I’m sure it’s this one. There’s a building on it, some sort of stone tower. I noticed it when I flew over before. That’s most likely where Ly-haam is.”

He jumped up, clapping his hands together. “Excellent! So let’s go and root out the slimy little shit.”

~~~~~

To spare the eagles, we poled across in the boat, Mother and I sitting primly on either side, while Cal struggled to get the thing moving forwards, instead of spinning round. At last he got the hang of it, with the aid of a little magic, I suspect, and we began to pace across the water quite smartly. There was no wind, so the surface was quite smooth, but even so I sat rigidly in case I tipped the flimsy affair over and drowned us all. Mages could die by drowning, I knew that much, and although I could swim a little, a few strokes in a sheltered river in midsummer was not quite the same as swimming for my life in these perishing waters.

“At least no one can follow us across,” Cal said with a smug grin. “We’ve taken the only boat.”

“If Ly-haam is here, he must have got here by boat,” I said, and his face fell.

Mother’s eagle was too weak to fly, and Cal’s showed no inclination to wake from his nap, but mine bounced up and down the shore in increasing agitation as we moved further away. But she must have been exhausted, for she made no effort to follow.

As we drew near the island, I spotted another pier. “There are several boats tied up there.”

“Then we must expect the boy god to have friends with him,” Cal said grimly.

I hadn’t considered that possibility, but it would be strange if he were here entirely alone. And when I’d seen through his eyes, I’d seen trays of food; someone had to have prepared those for him. Well, it would make our job harder, but with two mages, we were bound to prevail. Or so I told myself.

The boat rammed the pier so hard that I was almost tossed overboard. “Oops,” Cal muttered. “This is harder to steer than you’d think.”

Mother frowned, and opened her mouth to speak, but thought better of it. But she couldn’t quite suppress a huge sigh.

Like the other pier, this one was in good condition, with new planking inserted here and there, and the ropes pale and new. To one side of it, a paved road stretched away into the water, and in the opposite direction into the island’s interior, spear-straight, and as clean and weed-free as the moon it was built.

“Looks like we go that way,” Cal said with a lazy grin. Mother rolled her eyes.

The road led us onwards, not deviating, dense woodland on either side. A blanket of fallen leaves covered the forest floor, but no leaf marred the purity of the even slabs before us. Three times side paths branched off, drifts of leaves half burying the route, but they were no more than tracks, winding away amongst the trees.

We came to a wall of dark stone, the blocks large and cut with a slight curve, yet each block abutted its neighbour perfectly. Unswerving, the road passed through by way of a high archway, with no sign of gate or door. The stone of the arch was carved with many strange symbols.

“Drina, what does all that mean?” Mother asked. Her faith in my knowledge was touching, but I had to admit that I understood the marks no more than she did. There was magic in the stones, that much I could tell, but a passive sort, like the Keep, to preserve it from harm. And I felt no foreboding of evil about it. It reminded me a little of the strange house on Ly-haam’s island, with its faint hint of past magic. A kindly piece of history.

“Well, shall we?” Cal said, huffing out a long breath.

Without another word, we strode forward, through the archway, leaving the forest behind. Instead we were in a garden, warm with golden sunshine, with perfumed flowers in well-tended plots, vines clambering over stone pavilions and small trees laden with lush fruits, summer and autumn varieties mingling together. Mages showing off again.

But while Cal and Mother exclaimed, I could barely take it in. The ancient power in the wall must have muffled Ly-haam’s magic, for now it hit me with full force. I cried out at the sudden rush of his anger, far worse than I’d ever known it.

I was vaguely aware of Cal holding my arm, asking me urgently, “Where, Drina? Where is he?”

“There.” I pointed ahead of me. A little distance beyond us, the gardens ended abruptly and there stood the tower, its dark stone glimmering slightly. Around its base clustered several low buildings, and then a ring of smooth grass, separating it from the gardens. The grassy area was empty except for groups of marble blocks scattered about, each group with one large block and several smaller ones, for all the world like a table with stools. When we got close to one, we could see that the top of the large block was stained.

We had found the place where the Clans carried out their blood ceremony.

It was taking all my efforts not to be swamped by Ly-haam’s roiling anger. I reached out for his magic, but something still partly hid it from me.

“Inside,” I hissed. “Must get inside.”

My head drooped, all my focus inwards now. Cal and Mother half dragged me along towards the tower, chattering together. They were excited about something, although I couldn’t say what.

Then we were inside one of the buildings, the air cool and dry. The stone walls and floor were bare, with no furnishings or fires, and no lamps to light our way. Our footsteps echoed emptily. Dim sunlight penetrated through heavy glass windows.

We stopped. A staircase. “Up or down?” Cal said.

“Down.” My voice was hoarse and rough, as if I’d been shouting.