Analindë (The Chronicles of Lóresse) (28 page)

The next morning, Analindë emerged from her room to find Master Therin waiting for her at the breakfast table. He looked much better than he had the previous evening. His eyes were clear and bright and his expression was relaxed. It appeared that Andulmaion had already broken his fast and left to meet with Master Ithilwen. Their typical breakfast lay on the table: various fruits, sliced meats, and fresh breads accompanied by a pot of tea.

“Good morning Master Therin.” Analindë poured herself a cup of tea, grabbed an orange, and began to peel it.

“Good morning Analindë, I trust you slept well?”

“Yes, thank the stars for untroubled sleep.”

“That makes good hearing. I trust you have heard the latest news about the humans and the Mageborn Books?”

Analindë was surprised. Was he actually addressing the subject himself? She cautiously broached a few questions of her own. “I heard, but only recently. Do you have news of the others from my village? Have they decided where to resettle?”

“All that were away from home are safe and accounted for.” He broke a roll in half and lavishly spread fresh butter on it. “There is talk of many returning to the village in the spring.”

Analindë’s teacup clattered to its saucer; its contents sloshed merrily over the rim, burning her hand. Her eyes darted to Master Therin’s. “Is it wise to return?”

“Wise or not, there are those who call it home and would continue to do so.”

“Will the Humans come again?”

“It is doubtful. The books they sought are lost to them now. Besides, it is not the first time we have battled against the humans; if permitted, a way will be found to keep the village safe.” Therin plucked an apple off the table and split it crisply into sections with a simple spell.

“But first we must root out the traitors from within. Some very powerful Masters have chosen to move against the peace. Gildhorn is one of the least of these; treachery runs deep and I fear a return of the Elven Wars of old.”

“Which families have acted and can they be stopped?”

Master Therin ignored the first half of her question. “Yes, if we catch them in time,” he said with gentleness that did not reach his eyes. She shivered.

“How much time do we have? Will they move against us now that they are discovered?” She decided not to question him further about which families had turned.

“We have until spring to stop the humans, and unfortunately, they have managed to survive rockslides, fire, and raging beasts. Perhaps they will not survive the winter.” He looked hopeful. “We dare not get too close until we know what spell was used. Our historians and many of our mages search diligently for any hint. The only difficulty that we experience in watching over the humans—and I do not share this with you lightly—is that our mages have had some trouble keeping track of them. It is as if our mages are being actively blocked. But have no fear, the human wizard is not powerful enough to form a portal on his own. No man or elve by himself is powerful enough. Frankly, let us hope the humans do not survive the winter.” He took a bite of his apple and chewed slowly.

“As for the other half of our worries, I do not know. I believe the traitor’s success hinges on finding the Mageborn Books, so we’ve placed our focus on preventing them from finding a set.”

Analindë nodded in agreement, then poured herself a fresh cup of tea. “And the Mageborn Books, have we located a set that we can use?”

“No; however, we have unearthed much speculation as to which families were believed to have them. Those families now search their libraries in haste. Mages and historians in the Mountain City, the Forest Glade, the Eastern Desert City, and up in the Northern Hills have commenced the search, without luck so far.

“It is written that the books will only show themselves to the elve they claim as their own, that they hide themselves from strangers. But therein lies the problem. How does one find a book that hides?” He finished his roll and started on another.

“How do the books choose who they belong to?”

“They pick among the descendants of the original family to whom they were gifted and whoever has added to it. Yours would have had such a copy and it would recognize your ancestors in you and would reveal itself.
If
it chose to do so.”

“If they are that well hidden, perhaps the Humans may not be able to find them either.” Analindë sat forward in her chair eagerly. “How will the Humans–”

“The humans posses some sort of amulet which forces the books to reveal themselves.” She remembered the flash of green and silver that the Human wizard had tucked into his robes that day and wondered if that was the amulet of which he spoke. She thought to mention it to him, but Master Therin quickly held up his hand to stop her interruption. “Which is why the traitors have recruited the services of the human wizard. The humans are but a tool, . . . useful yes, but once they have served their purpose . . . ” He shook his head, his mouth tightened. She did not try to tell him of the amulet again. After a moment he continued. “Gildhorn and his faction have no respect for any life but their own.” He pushed his unfinished apple away from him, and cast a weave upon it to keep it fresh. “Unfortunately, we know of no other copies of the amulet. Besides, elves would be unable to wield the amulet even if we possessed one of our own. And we know of no human we would trust enough to hold such a great power.”

“Come now, enough talk, let us move to the workshop. We have sources to speak about.”

Analindë and Master Therin sat on the stone floor, practicing grounding and centering. Analindë’s legs had long since fallen asleep, but if Master Therin wasn’t complaining, neither would she. He had warded the old workroom, invoking weaves that she hadn’t even seen until they were activated.

“There is no way out of here is there?” she asked, scanning the shields with her magesight.

“No, not even for you.” Steady eyes looked back at her.

“How does the shield work? I can’t sense anything beyond it.”

“I was not the one to raise my tower; my fourth-great-grandfather did. Since that time, many generations have studied here. Each has set their own wards, melding them to work seamlessly with the first. They are here for both safety and protection, not just for ourselves, but for others.” He leaned forward to capture her attention. “Should any spell go awry, we may die, . . . but others will not.” Somehow his words didn’t quite bring Analindë the comfort he’d probably intended. “Many powerful mages have studied here; it was built to match their strength. You will find it sufficient for the time being.

“Now tell me what it feels like to center.”

Analindë shifted slightly and covertly thumped her leg, trying to bring back feeling. “Centering feels as if everything comes into focus, snapping into place.”

“Good, now do it . . . good, now relax and center again, but faster.”

She had snapped into focus so many times that she’d lost count. They’d practiced grounding first, anchoring to the solid earth below. When grounded it was easier to find center; edges became crisper. She remembered the fuzzy loose feeling she’d felt that morning on the mountain ledge after she’d created the flat shield. She’d been trying to center but just hadn’t known what to call it. Analindë wondered what else her mother had covertly taught her without her realizing it.

She thought of the game of commonalities that her mother had taught her. It was the same quizzing game that Master Donarion had used on her when she’d stumbled upon Mirëdell’s first room.

“Analindë, your mind is wandering; perhaps it is time for a break. Come, let us drink some tea and speak of other things.” He stood up, spryly walked to the door, and released the workroom wards with a wave of his hand. Analindë missed the twinkle in his eye and the smirk that brightened his face as he walked out of the room.

“How does he do it?” She attempted to stand, but rubbery legs folded beneath her. She thumped her legs again and cried out briefly as numbness turned into excruciating prickles. She eventually pried herself up off the floor and limped after him to the sitting room. Master Therin had prepared tea and was munching on the rest of his apple.

“Tell me, Analindë, what do grounding and centering have to do with your source?”

Analindë thought about his question as she swirled the tea in her cup. “Use of energies comes more easily when you are grounded and centered.”

“That is part of it, yes; if not properly grounded and centered a lot of Energy is wasted when a weave or spell is cast. So yes, it would be easier if you were properly prepared. But the answer I’m looking for is not so simple.” He waited a moment to see if she had another response to his question. At her silence, he continued. “Some spells come at great cost to its caster, are very dangerous, and can result in one’s death. If you have properly prepared yourself for the casting of a spell, the added focus and clarity—one gets from being grounded and centered—could be the difference between great damage to oneself or others and a safe and successfully completed casting.”

Analindë thought of Riian and the constant explosions that echoed from his set of rooms; laughter danced briefly in her heart before a deluge of mournful sadness washed it away. She pushed the painful thought aside and fiddled with the ring on her finger.

“Now your source, tell me about yours,” he said.

“It lives within me but when I look at it, it seems much larger than I am. It’s a gigantic reservoir that can be filled; it glitters and glows with Energy . . . and . . . and it is different than it was before.”

“How so Analindë?” Master Therin stared intently at her as a teacher does when his student is about to stumble upon a powerful truth.

“The Energy glitters differently; it used to be lightly flowing, a very pale yellow. Now it is a deep gold color; heavy and slow, it glitters against the blackness of my reservoir like stars in the sky.”

“How long since it made this change?”

Analindë twirled the ring around her finger, started to pull it off, then pushed it back on again. “It started back when I found Mirëdell’s source. I . . . that’s it, isn’t it? Somehow it changed me.”

Master Therin nodded his head in approval, “What you feel as slow and heavy is actually densely compacted power. Mirëdell’s Source has tutored your reservoir; you will forevermore compact and condense Energy in this fashion.

“In time, you would have eventually learned to do this on your own, but it would have taken hundreds of years. You will find that as you use your Energy, its color will continue to deepen. The color of mine, for example, is a dark amber, while the newest of our apprentices uses Energy the color of corn silk. It creates a nice balance. Usually the more skilled mages wield more powerful bits of Energy, and the less skilled mages cannot do much harm when their spells go awry. Since you are out of balance, you will need to be cautious while your knowledge base catches up to your level of ability.

“Now, this next bit is perhaps
the
most important knowledge that you learn today. Do not forget it.” Analindë stilled, wondering what he was about to tell her.

“Each spell exacts a cost from the caster.”

That didn’t sound terribly important and she relaxed back into her chair. Some of what she’d thought must have shown on her face because he continued in a sterner voice. “After working major spells, it is important to eat and rest. If you become too weary you will either die or be many years in recovering.”

Analindë’s brows knotted in confusion. “But the energies from the earth or wind . . . can’t they restore the power within or pay the cost?”

“The Energy within your source is only part of the casting; a toll is always taken in physical energies as well. It cannot be avoided. Let this be your first lesson in the art of war. There is always a cost for everything; beware that you do not waste your energies unwisely for there may come a time when you need them.”

A light of understanding flickered in her eyes as her forehead relaxed. “That’s the reason why my mother always made me use an umbrella, even though she could cast a shield to keep the rain at bay. She never would tell me why, just that it wasn’t worth the cost.” She wondered what else her parents had never told her.

“Yes, my dear, that is correct.”

Analindë shook her head. He continued, “Go eat lunch with your friends, then go to the library. There is a large section dedicated solely to books about sources. The librarian will show you where. Search for something new; tomorrow you may tell me what you found.”

Excited to see her friends and to have a moment of peace where she wouldn’t have to think, Analindë bid good afternoon to Master Therin and flew down the tower steps with a skip in her step. Discussions with her mentor were proving to be more interesting than she had ever hoped. Unfortunately, this new dynamic in their relationship was not to last, she just didn’t know it yet.