Analindë (The Chronicles of Lóresse) (15 page)

Therin watched High Lord Mallhawion survey the occupants of the room; only High Mages were left. He called the historians and loremasters in from the outside corridor. Once they’d entered, the High Lord shut the door himself, sealing the room against all outside observers and sounds with a muttered spell and the wave of his hand.

“So Master Therin,” Noriel looked toward him and smiled.

“What?”

“Matchmaking are we?” High Lord Mallhawion remarked as he strode to his chair. The High Lord missed nothing.

Therin shrugged his shoulders. “Andulmaion needs a task, he is almost ready to start his travels and I fear for him wandering at this time.”

“Wise thoughts,” Noriel said as others nodded in agreement.

“Besides, now he has a good reason to stay.” Therin smiled. The council resumed their chairs in the circle, fifteen in all. The newcomers pulled chairs forward into empty spaces joining them as equals.

The High Lord turned his attention to the historians and directly asked, “Tell us what you know of the Mageborn Books.”

And so thus began long days and discussions deep into the night as the council searched for hints to the mysteries contained within the Mageborn Books and for the reasons of Gildhorn’s betrayal. The oaths that had been broken when the Mages of Lindënolwë had been attacked would have far reaching consequences. For the events of a few weeks ago had firmly put the Realm on the path toward civil war. All elves remembered the devastation that had befallen them when brother had warred against brother five thousand years ago. The attack on Lindënolwë had not been lightly made. And reactions to that attack would not be lightly decided upon.

Things could yet be done to prevent war, but if the rot and evil had roots deep enough, so be it. War would come. For if the Realm was to survive, dissenters who would break the established peace must be crushed else all was lost. There was yet time to root the traitors out. And now that they knew where to look, spies would be sent.

The Eleventh Chapter

A
ndulmaion sat in Master Therin’s
tower summoning fire; little fires for warming tea, roaring fires upon the fireplace grate to heat the room, and blue white fires strong enough to melt metal. Two petals fell from an arrangement of wilted flowers. Before they reached the tabletop, two separate fires sprang up in the room, one in the fireplace, the other within the hollow of a silver bowl.

Andulmaion edged forward in his chair; reverently closing the tattered book in his lap, he gently set it to the side. He extinguished the fire in the grate with a glance and focused on the bowl. This second fire was tricky, a protective shield had to be set around the bowl before the fire started to burn else the heat would mar the beautiful metal work on the surface. While searching the shield he’d quickly set for weakness he admired the mastery the metal artisan had shown when making the dish. Birds in flight ringed the outside, each one unique.

A knock sounded at the door. Andulmaion released the fire, double-checked the location of the yellowed, age old book he’d been studying earlier, then stood. He glanced at the spells ringing the tower suite as he strode across the room to open the door. Laerwen greeted him, a tray of food in her hands. “Lunch time already?” He questioned while dissolving the part of the shield barring the door. He reached for the tray.

Laerwen slipped into the room without releasing her burden and headed for a nearby table. “Already? Are you joking? It has been five hours at least since I last checked in on you both.”

Andulmaion reset the shield on the door and looked through the window at the mid-day sun. “Oh, it
is
later.” He shrugged. “I’ve been working on a new spell. Would you like to see it?”

Laerwen turned an indulgent smile upon him, “It would please me greatly to see this latest skill you have acquired.” She straightened up from setting dishes on the table and settled back to watch.

His eyes twinkled in response, “Pick a dish in the room, any dish.”

“Hmmm, let me see, that one.” She pointed to a serving platter made of cherry wood with mother-of-pearl inlay.

“Sorry, I need a bowl or cup of some sort.”

“How about that one?” She said, pointing to a bowl made of red oak. A pattern of leaves graced its sides.

“Watch closely.” Andulmaion took a moment longer than usual to set the protective shield before starting the most dangerous of fires to burn in its hollow. A bright blue-white flame flashed gleefully along its surface.

“Oh no! It will catch fire! Quickly–”

Andulmaion gently caught her arm. “Wait. See, it is safe.”

“But how d– . . . I have never seen such a thing in my life.”

He glanced at the silver streaking her hair, “Really?”

She nodded. “How?”

“A protective shield. I’ve been practicing them. I thought the day might come when I might have need of such a skill.”

“How very clever,” she nodded slowly in approval. “What did Master Therin have to say?”

“I haven’t had the chance to tell him yet. He spends all his time in the Grand Council Chamber.” Andulmaion handed Laerwen a thin silver chain. She looked at him in confusion. “Here, drop it in. See how hot the fire burns.”

Laerwen reluctantly lowered the fine necklace into the fire. “How long?”

“Not long, usually within the turn of a thought.” By the time he finished speaking, a silvery-white light shone up through the blue light of the fire. With a wave of a hand Andulmaion dissolved the flames, “Look.”

In the bottom of the wooden bowl sat a pool of molten silver. He picked up the bowl and held it out to Laerwen, “Feel how cool.”

“I can’t believe it.” She cradled the wooden bowl in her hands. “Yet the silver still moves within,” she said while swirling it around in the bottom of the bowl.

Andulmaion smiled, took the bowl from her and gently set it back down on the table. “Enough of my tricks? May I help with yours?”

“If you wish. There are a few things you could learn. Come.” Laerwen led the way to Analindë’s room.

“I do so wish.” He scraped low to the ground in a courtly bow, then followed her into a side room to check on their charge.

Analindë lay on a four-poster bed, pink silk hung from the canopy in swaths as embroidered silk lined the walls. The room always made him feel uncomfortable, but it looked just right for the lady. She lay just as she had when he’d last checked on her: face up, arms resting on her stomach, legs straight. He shivered. “She never moves, does she?”

“She won’t while she’s in the healing sleep that I’ve set.” Laerwen glanced at Andulmaion out of the corner of her eye and smiled. “Others do not have such luck; their patients toss and turn like beached fishes out of water. They cannot seem to match my touch.”

“Can they not?” He drawled, enjoying their banter. They’d become friends of a sort over the past many days.

Laerwen chuckled, “Enough. Come and learn, watch a master at work.”

Andulmaion fell into a now familiar stance as he relaxed and spun his energies out toward Laerwen. The healing work she would perform on Analindë required a lot of Energy and he was happy to share his as a price for tagging along to learn.

Laerwen reached a tendril of her own Energy toward him and gently drew his in, forging a connection between them both. Following the mental path across and into Laerwen, Andulmaion anchored himself to a wisp of her thought and then followed the healer around while she worked.

During the past week, they’d healed scratches and half-healed cuts on her hands, arms and legs, helped bruises fade, and strengthened strained muscles. Today Laerwen headed toward Analindë’s mage connections and energies. It was the first time she’d let him accompany her to this place; she’d always gone alone before.

Analindë’s mage corridors glowed ethereally. Mage corridors fascinated him. He’d learned about them at school, but only in theory. He’d never been able to find his own, so hers were the first ones he’d seen. Thin lines branched throughout her body, echoing the veins that carried her blood. Like her heart was to her blood vessels, power coalesced within her. The only difference was that there were two central hubs for her mage corridors. As expected, the first power hub was in the center of her chest; the second was located in her head. The glow emanating from her connections ranged from a pale buttercup yellow to blackish red. The blackish red areas were where the corridors were damaged the most. Some of the corridors were dim, either because they had not been found or because they’d been charred to a crisp from overuse. Others were bright from use; both raw and red, a step away from becoming dim; and lastly, there were stable and strong corridors with synapses that glowed healthily from being newly repaired where rawness lay just underneath.

The healing Laerwen and Vinriel had performed was well on its way to making a difference, but it would be a long time before Analindë was truly well. Despite the work that the healers had done, many areas still pulsed an angry blackish red that called out to be soothed and healed.

They stood just outside one such corridor, except that this section was mostly dim and dying. He fed Laerwen Energy of his own while he stood watching Analindë’s Energy pulsing through the connection in front of them. Laerwen worked quickly, a Master. At last Andulmaion spoke.

«Will the corridors ever heal?»

«In time most will,» came the somber reply. «At least they aren’t shouting as strongly as they used to.»

Shout?
He looked at the blistered, red areas and wondered what they yelled. They moved to a new section, and he shunted more Energy toward her as she continued to work.

«We’ve done much good work already; this is the last of the critical areas. Here.» Laerwen drew Andulmaion’s focus to a particularly bright spot. «Would you like to try?»

«Thank you, yes. Where do I–» He searched the spot anxiously.

«Start at the edge and layer toward the middle.»

Andulmaion drew a small piece of Energy from himself, infusing it with the intent to heal. It began to glow a faint green. He stretched the Energy until it was transparent, then broke it into pieces, layering them one by one over the bright spot. Gently he worked each one down, into, and around the damaged section, soothing and calming as he went until it glowed with a healthy patina. After awhile he drew back to observe.

In the time it had taken him to perform a passable job on this one spot, Laerwen had expertly covered four. He watched her as she spun Energy out, layering it with an ease born of centuries of practice. Her energies glowed a deep rich green. «How do I make mine that color?»

«You can’t; it only comes with time and practice.»

Puzzled Andulmaion turned back toward his spot. There was a small section that glowed brighter than the rest, so he layered his energies until an even glow flowed throughout the spot. Then, as he had watched Laerwen do time after time when she’d finished working on an area, he worked section by section, moving through the spot, checking that Analindë’s energies flowed smoothly. Energy buzzed beneath his touch, bringing numbness. The numbness distracted him since theoretically it was the wisp of thought that was turning numb, not his actual physical hands, which were a few steps away. Pushing the thought away, he focused back on his task. When he found spots where the Energy caught or pooled, he smoothed it out, then pushed so that it flowed in the right direction.

As he moved back to study his work, he felt Laerwen watching. «Well done. Almost as good as one of my new apprentices.» Andulmaion felt the chuckle more than heard it. «No, really, it
is
excellent work. One day you will make a great healer; it is a fortunate mage who can heal himself and others around him. Now watch.»

Andulmaion sat on the edge of Laerwen’s wisp of self and watched in awe as she sent a green wave of Energy across the neural network they’d worked upon.

«Now that we have the hot spots under control, we can focus on the area as a whole.»

They pulled back to a wider view and she spun rich emerald energies out around her. They flew to the network of passages and wrapped themselves around the pathways and connections, healing as they went. With a sigh, she paused. «One more stop before we finish for the day.»

The corridor that they traveled grew larger as they went, similar to following a river upstream before the water has split to spread across a delta plain. The widened path carried a more forceful flow of Energy as they went.

It led them to her source.

It was the largest source he’d ever seen—not that he had seen many—it was immense. Even though great amounts of Energy constantly flowed out of her source to meet her body’s efforts at self-healing, the source appeared full. Andulmaion was stunned. A beautiful buttercup yellow shone and sparkled every which way, illuminating the large cavern in a sunny glow. The newly formed walls that hemmed in the Energy glittered darkly, a raw hurt emanating from them.

«How she ever made it to Mirëdell I will never know,» Laerwen spoke as she sent broad swaths of dark green to liberally coat the source’s walls. He quickly shifted copious amounts Energy from within himself to support the healer’s efforts.

«The alternate plane shield saved her. She should have died from the pain. Ripping the energies from your body and enlarging your source as she did does that you know.» At his silence she prompted him, «Brings great pain. Somehow she learned how to replenish her energies. That alone kept her alive long enough to make it here.» She sent a tendril of Energy out to search for any critical spots. «Judging by the damage we have seen, she must have stopped several times a day to regain enough strength to carry on. Self-healing to this extent requires vast amounts of Energy.» He hadn’t known but grunted in agreement anyway. The effort of shifting this much power over to Laerwen was taxing. He felt short of breath, which was ridiculous since he wasn’t even in his body to begin with.

«I can’t imagine what it must have been like after that initial blast. Poor dear. This will be the last time we need to do this; she’ll manage the rest.»