ZYGRADON (26 page)

"He did?" Mrillis sat up straighter in the saddle as something tightened in his gut
and around his throat, and started to burn.

"I laughed at him." She reached across the gap between their horses and grasped
his wrist. "If you couldn't help me with this, then no one ever could."

"Such confidence..." He swallowed down dozens of bitter words. "He didn't like
that much, did he?"

"I don't care what Endor likes or doesn't like." A frown touched her face for the
first time since they set off that morning. "The longer he stays in Moerta, the happier I'll
be."

"Ceera?"

"He wants me, and he won't listen when I tell him I'm not for the taking."

"Of course you aren't!" Mrillis yanked on the reins of his horse without thinking,
startling the animal. Sparkles of anger-spawned magic danced around the tips of his
gloved fingers, making the leather glow blue and gold.

"He's such a good friend, otherwise. I liked him so much when he was a
boy--why did he have to become a man?" She blinked rapidly, so he wondered if she fought
tears. Ceera shook her head and managed a crooked smile. "I really should thank you for
not being a horrid, jealous, possessive cretin."

"Ceera--" Words he wanted to say, words he hadn't even thought of saying,
clogged on his tongue. Was it fear for her that made him want to speak, or
jealousy?

"I should thank you," she said with a decisive nod, "but I won't." She laughed; a
sharp, breathless sound. Before he could decide what she had meant, she dug her heels
into her mount's side and raced down the trail.

Mrillis felt dizzy for a moment, but he knew better than to let her beat him,
even in an undeclared race. He urged his horse to a gallop and flew down the trail
toward Phoedellas.

They were both windblown and gasping when they reached the faintly
shimmering curtain in the air that marked the boundary of the valley. Rey'kil had settled
on the heights overlooking the valley, taking it as their duty to keep the curtain intact, to
warn away anyone who might be harmed by the power that collected there. Sparks
danced along Ceera's hair and hissed against the metal parts of her horse's bridle as she
rode through the curtain. Mrillis closed his eyes as he followed a few steps later. The
tingles held a refreshing chill, in contrast to the springtime warmth and greenery inside
the vale, while winter still reigned outside. He instantly felt more awake, the fatigue of
their long ride wiped away.

They stopped just inside the boundary. Mrillis unsaddled their horses and took
the beasts out past the curtain. He loosely tied their lead ropes to a stake pounded into
the hillside. If disaster hit, he wanted the horses able to flee to save their lives. He next
touched the thoughts of the Rey'kil living around the vale's boundaries, to let them know
the experiment was about to begin. When he stepped back through the curtain, Ceera
had settled herself cross-legged on a blanket, her metalworking tools spread around her
within easy reach. She began the mental and breathing exercises to prepare her for the
long effort that lay ahead.

In the center of the vale, in a low point that caused power to pool in this spot,
lay the star-metal. All the Threads in this region radiated out from that point. No one
was quite sure yet if the star-metal created the low point when it hit the ground, or if the
landscape attracted it when it fell. Mrillis only cared that it was convenient. What
amazed him every time he considered it was that this piece of star-metal was no bigger
than his thumb.

How much work would it take, how long would they have to search, to find
enough metal to make the long, heavy sword of his vision? A king who could wield a
sword made of star-metal would be a king to be reckoned with. Even the Nameless One
would bow before him in terror and obedience.

Could a Noveni king carry a sword of star-metal? Once the mineral was tamed
and shaped, would it be safe for a Noveni to carry it? Or would that king need Rey'kil
blood in his veins?

Mrillis put that thought aside for later. He had this duty now to occupy all his
attention. He felt Ceera's mind reaching out, strong and steady and solid, about to touch
the star-metal. He reached with his mind and
imbrose
for the Threads. His
inner vision showed them as thick as his arms, blue-white and pulsing with power
coming directly from the star-metal. Mrillis knew how to touch the Threads now without
scorching his mind.

A few deft twists with his
imbrose
secured other Threads, coming into
the vale from far distances. He wrapped them around his mental hands, to act as
insulation against the flow of power. Then he grasped the Threads coming from the
star-metal and wove them around, in and out, creating a basket cage. He planned the same
for the curtain surrounding the vale if anything started to go wrong.

Perfect
, Ceera thought to him. The sensation of the brush of her hand
against his cheek startled him, and she laughed silently.
Mrillis, you are my dearest
friend, but you are too proper sometimes.

Proper
--

We have been together almost our whole lives. We will always be
together. If we are wrong, if we have finally let our triumphs make us foolishly proud,
there is no one I would rather die with than you.

Don't die, Little Star.
He struggled to tighten his grip on the Threads
that writhed against his control, like snakes trying to break free.
I'm going to make
you continue this conversation when you've finished.

She laughed and her presence faded, as if she moved away. Mrillis didn't dare
open his eyes and risk losing even that much concentration. His body sensed her
physically sitting at his feet, her body relaxed while her mind did battle.

It's not so much tug-of-war,
she reported a few breaths later.
It's
more like making twisting sweets.

Mrillis nearly lost his concentration then. A few snorts of laughter escaped him.
He had an image of Ceera holding the mass of glowing star-metal in her hands, pulling it
in a long, sagging strand, lumping it together, kneading it like the soft, chewy candy
made from finely ground nuts, pulped fruit and syrup. Making the sweets was often a
distraction for restless children in the coldest months of winter.

He turned all his attention back to the cage, to catch strands of power that tried
to shoot off the larger Threads and weave them into his construct. He monitored the
physical landscape through the Threads, to ensure no enemy crept up on them while
they were occupied. He checked with the enchanters keeping watch at the boundaries of
the vale, and those in the Stronghold and on Wynystrys who watched the experiment by
touching the Threads, in case they saw something that eluded him. All was well. Perhaps
a little too well?

The stink of molten metal startled him. He opened his eyes without meaning
to, and saw Ceera kneeling in front of the small portable anvil she used to make fine
jewelry. If she had brought the star-metal physically to this place, using her
imbrose
, then she was satisfied her purifying work had emptied it of enough
energy it would not burn her. They had talked of this step, but Mrillis had only
half-believed they would get this far.

Power shimmered in rainbow hues all around Ceera, enfolding her like a
garment. He saw her raise her hammer and strike something hidden from his view. Blue
sparks sprayed across the grass of the hillside and a chime like dented, sour, tuneless bells
grated on his ears. The sound shivered through the ground.

Ceera struck again and again. Mrillis blinked when sweat dripped from his
forehead into his eyes, but he refused to look away. He watched the sweat of her efforts
plaster her long, sleeveless tunic to her back. Her braids grew dark from
perspiration.

With each blow she struck, pounding the softened, near-molten star-metal,
folding it back on itself multiple times to give it layers and strength, the chimes changed.
They grew lighter, sweeter, in tune, and turned from a few shrieking bells into an entire
chorus in multiple octaves.

Ceera put down her hammer and snatched up the sharp-edged wedge she used
for cutting metal. She struck multiple times, barely pausing between blows to set the
wedge in place again. Each times she struck, a bell seemed to leave the chorus, as if each
piece she cut from the worked star-metal had its own note. Then she took up the
hammer again. Mrillis watched her movements, unable to see what her hands did. He
willed all his strength into her, knowing that she had to be even more weary than he
felt.

Around them, the sun sank into the horizon with startling speed. Mrillis
wondered if time changed when they were in such close proximity to star-metal. He
flinched when Ceera dropped her tools and her shoulders slumped and her head
bowed.

Ceera?
He couldn't get enough moisture in his mouth, enough breath
in his lungs to speak for a moment.

"It's done," she whispered. She sounded harsh, like the winter she had been so
sick she lost her voice. "Release the Threads slowly, so I can feel the power flow back
in."

"We should put it back in the center--"

"No. It's... not tame. But it is an ally now. Still dangerous, but an ally if we
respect it." She made a sound, as if she tried to laugh but was too tired. "Mrillis, please,
I'm drained dry."

He bit his lip to keep from cursing--he wasn't quite sure who he wanted to
curse--and slowly relaxed his mental hands. Ceera turned, letting him see the shimmering,
silver-blue pile she had labored over. He blinked more sweat out of his eyes and took
some of the power slipping past his fingers to enhance his sight as dusk fell around
them.

"It's a bracelet." He knew he sounded stupid, but it had to be the weariness
talking through him.

Ceera had formed the star-metal into a simple circle of metal links, a triple chain
of squares held together with another square every three links. He laughed when he
made out the star-shaped clasp that closed the loop.

"For our Lady," she said. "Just because she's our mother. To protect her."

"She'll cry and scold you for wasting so much effort on her, and she'll cherish it
always." He nodded and watched as the silver-blue shimmer didn't so much grow as
intensify when he released more of his grip on the Threads.

"An ally," Ceera said, and nodded in satisfaction as he untwisted the Threads
that protected his mental hands.

She reached out a shaky, dirty hand and with one finger touched the bracelet
sitting on the anvil. It chimed softly, at the back of their minds, but there was no other
reaction. Ceera flashed him a triumphant grin, scooped up the bracelet and clutched it in
her fist.

"It's cool, though it was molten such a short time ago." She smiled and released
a long sigh. "It's like stepping into a cool spring surrounded with mint and apple
blossoms. It wipes away all my aches, physical and mental."

"No matter how much better you feel," Mrillis said, and bent to grasp her arms
and lift her to her feet, "you're getting a good night's rest right here before we head
back."

Ceera stuck her tongue out at him, but she didn't argue. Despite claiming that
she felt quite wonderful with the star-metal bracelet safely around her wrist, she let him
clean up her tools and set up camp and make their dinner. She sat still, leaning back
against a tree trunk and smiled, her eyes half-closed, as if entranced.

They didn't speak aloud. Ceera showed him what she had done, the things she
had sensed, the paths she had followed with her spirit more than her mind. There were
things that couldn't be understood with words, not even with mental images, but with
the soul. She couldn't have spoken of all she went through, even if she had the strength.
It was beyond words, beyond the finite boundaries of their physical lives and
experiences. She put the images and sensations of her experience directly into his
mind.

Mrillis knew it would take weeks to completely digest what she had shown
him, so he could talk about it and teach it to others. And he knew, even then, there was
still so much that only they two would ever understand, could never convey to others.
He was glad of that, and yet mourned; knowing some skills and knowledge would be
lost to the World when they died.

They didn't return to the conversation he wanted to pursue, about their feelings
for each other. Ceera fell asleep almost as soon as they ate and she had finished sharing
directly into his mind. Mrillis sat up late, watching the moon glide across the sky, keeping
watch over her. It was enough for him to know she didn't want Endor, but she did want
to be with him.

* * * *

Ceera claimed she felt perfectly fine when she woke in the morning. After
conferring with those who had kept watch, greatly encouraged by this first success, Mrillis
and Ceera did not return immediately to the Stronghold. They went on to vales within a
few hours' ride and hunted for more fragments of star-metal, to work it and make it
malleable for use. They agreed not to take all the star-metal in each vale, but only a
small portion. Sometimes the only bits of star-metal they could find were the size of
pebbles, sometimes little more than dust.

Ceera went through the 'taming' process with star-metal, like making twisting
sweets, several times before she had enough to make another bracelet. Mrillis adapted
the protective magic Le'esha had taught him to set up a self-sustaining barrier around the
tiny bits of star-metal Ceera had 'made truce with', so they could save and collect it for
later use.

The Rey'kil guarding the vales reported a decrease in the collected power once
Mrillis and Ceera had physically removed the refined star-metal. Lygroes needed its vales,
the pools of power that fed their
imbrose
. No one wanted to go back to the
dry times when there wasn't enough power.