Analindë (The Chronicles of Lóresse) (30 page)

The Nineteenth Chapter

“I
’ve been thinking about Julwen,”
Analindë said as they strolled across the atrium. It was an airy space. Tall columns, lots of windows. Potted palms and groupings of low couches and chairs dotted the room.

“Julwen? Whatever for?” Erulissé replied.

“I think I need to apologize to her, and to do so very publicly. It’s hard to explain, but ever since she approached me in the dining hall I’ve felt a nagging sense of wrongness, that I acted badly and need to repair the damage.”

Erulissé looked thoughtful. “Do you think she was trying to mend the breach?”

“I’m not sure. But I know that my reaction definitely did not help the situation between our families. It probably enflamed the estrangement and, if left alone, will likely end up pushing the dislike forward for another generation. You’ll help me when the time comes to act? When I figure out how to apologize?”

“You need to ask? Of course I’ll help, I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

“Erulissé, Analindë, wait up,” Pedar’s voice called out. Analindë glanced behind them to find Maliel and Pedar making a beeline for them. Pedar looked furious.

“Pedar, what’s wrong?” Analindë asked as soon as they were within speaking distance.

Pedar glanced around the atrium, then pulled them into a side alcove in order to be more private. Analindë looked back and forth between Maliel, who looked mulish, and Pedar. He still wore a sling on his arm; it looked like the break had not yet healed.

“Analindë, please. I have not pressed you on details before now, but there are some things I must know. Could we please discuss the human wizard’s abilities and power? I wouldn’t ask, but it’s important. I think the council is stonewalling my parents.”

Shocked, Analindë gave the only answer that she could. “Yes, yes of course we can talk.”

“Could we have the conversation now?”

Erulissé piped up, “Now?” She peeped out of the alcove, looking for who might be nearby. “Perhaps we should find a better place to–”

Pedar made an abrupt movement, then cast up a noisy shield around them. It was of basic construction, but effective. It blocked people from overhearing what they said. It was not made for subtle applications since it was quite obvious that the four of them were hiding from the others in the room.

“There, now we can speak as we wish.”

Analindë nodded. “What in particular would you like to know?”

“The amulets for starters, can you describe them? Could you sense anything of their origin? And the human’s strength. Did they appear to be altered in any fashion? That is to say, did they feel human to you, or did they feel like something else?”

Despite the noisy shield around them, the friends huddled together. Analindë replied in a hushed voice.

“Pedar, I’m sorry, but I’m not sure. My powers were so new to me back then. I’m not sure that I sensed much of anything. I’m not sure why my family waits to train our mages, but I’m at a disadvantage. Any of the other mages my age could have answered your questions.” Analindë grimaced and then continued.

“What I can tell you is that I’d never seen Humans before they came to Lindënolwë, even from a distance. So, from everything I’ve read in books, they appeared normal to me. They spoke and moved as I expected. It’s true that the strength they exhibited far surpassed anything that I had been led to expect. They kept up with me, even when I was at a dead run, sprinting uphill. That was definitely abnormal by all reports. But no, I was unable to sense if they’d been altered somehow.

“As for the amulets, they were silver and emerald green. The green bits were shiny, most likely from some sort of enamel. I don’t remember the design. The Human wizard kept referring to his amulet saying that it could help locate me. I also believe he used the amulet to help weave the spells against my family. At the time I couldn’t have identified the amulet with any particular family, but with what I now know, I can say with certainty that they were old. Practically ancient.”

Pedar swore and turned away briefly to bark a word she didn’t understand. The shield around them brightened noticeably and solidified somewhat. He swung back around and spoke freely.

“It was definitely the amulets then. The council is downplaying that fact, saying that the humans which came to your village were simply altered. Which in and of itself brings dire consequences of its own since it’s forbidden to meddle with the genetics of other species. I don’t understand why the council would even suggest it.”

He paced for a moment and then turned back to them. “The abilities that humans and elves have—in regard to working Energy—are fundamentally different one from the other. Because of our long life spans and the type of access we have to the power flows, elves are able to weave spells that are far reaching, nuanced, and complex. Humans, on the other hand, use spells that are powerful with brute strength, though no match to our own. The scope of human spells is limited or narrowed to a finite task. This is why a single human can sometimes withstand a direct attack, if he keeps the area he defends confined to a small space.

“From what you’ve told me, all three of the humans must have had access to an amulet of their own.”

Analindë spoke up, “Yes, I’ve surmised the same. Although I only saw the wizard’s amulet, I believe that all three Humans carried one.”

“The council is lying and we don’t know why. I think that the amulet most likely augments the abilities of the wearer while extending elven protections. Without doubt, the human wizard used the amulet in the attack on your family.”

“I agree,” Analindë said, her voice thoughtful.

“The council is being cagey with the information they’ve gathered and I don’t like it. Why they haven’t summoned one of my parents to actually come and sit in on discussions is beyond me.”

Surprised, Analindë asked, “They aren’t involving your parents?”

“Oh, they are. For all intents and purposes, on the surface it looks like they’re being consulted, but that’s just it. All of the major discussions are taking place without them.”

“I’m sorry Pedar. I wish I could have helped you out some more.”

“It is of no worry; we will figure it all out in the end. I just wish we knew more information about the amulets. If we could find a written record about them, who originally made them, who they were gifted to, or maybe who it was rumored to hold them last, it would go a long way toward knowing how they ended up with the humans in the first place.”

“I’ll keep an eye out for information while I study in the library.”

“And I’ll keep an ear out for any gossip I may hear.”

“Thanks Analindë, Erulissé. I really appreciate it. Something about how this is all proceeding worries me greatly.”

Maliel nudged him and Pedar hesitated for a moment, taking a moment to study Analindë. Maliel nudged him again and gave him a look that said, “If you don’t tell her, I will.” Pedar turned back to Analindë and she found that she was suddenly anxious.

“One last thing.” Pedar stilled, the stars in his eyes had stilled. His face was serious. She trembled, afraid of what he might say. “As one who values your friendship, you should be aware that the wrong sort of people are talking about you. I’ve heard–, no, I can’t tell you how,” Pedar exclaimed when Erulissé made to interrupt. “But I’ve heard that people are talking about your quick rise to power. As you know, caution, routine, and conservatism are the ruling school of thought of our day. Your huge leaps in power and ability have people talking about former days. Of course, no one knows how our ancestors made such great leaps and thus the disturbing talk about you is surfacing.

“Please, stay safe.” He reached out to grasp her arm; Maliel nodded her head in agreement. “There is talk–, that is to say, you should try to hide what you can until you are sufficiently able to defend yourself.”

Maliel jumped into the discussion for the first time, blunt as ever. “What Pedar is trying to spit out is that people are talking about abducting you and then dissecting you to figure out how you made the great jump in abilities. We don’t want you to end up as some lab experiment, so just take care, okay?”

Analindë rocked back on her feet as her mind reeled. Images flashed through her mind. Some of them included her nightmares of past days. Mostly, she’d thought that the Humans were the threat, but now she realized that the current treachery ran deeper than she thought. Why, there could be elves hiding behind the pillar just now, waiting to snatch her.

Pedar tightened his grip, then let go. Patting her on the arm, he said over her shoulder, “Erulissé, I need to go. Take care of her, will you?” And with that he was gone before she had a chance to collect herself and respond.

The opaque bubble surrounding them burst as he strode away, Maliel dogging his heels. Erulissé and Analindë looked at each other in shock. Actually, Erulissé looked more appalled than shocked. Analindë glanced out into the room, searching for watchers.

A frightened squeal came out of Erulissé just as Analindë caught sight of a Sword Sworn nonchalantly leaning against a wall, an open book in hand. He was staring directly at her, his face blank.

Erulissé clutched her arm, “Analindë, let’s get out of here.” And so they went, scurrying out of the room in haste.

The Twentieth Chapter

T
wo weeks had passed since
Analindë had first ventured into the library. She now spent all available afternoons curled up on a chair on the third floor, a book propped open on her lap. There was so much to know and a million places in which to start learning it all. She rubbed her eyes and sighed heavily. She was tired.

Thanks to Laerwen’s tea Analindë slept fairly well now. But her suppressed nightmares had begun to surface at day, usually during the worst of times. Most often they came when there were lots of people around. Students had begun to give her pitying glances when her eyes watered or rush to her side when she got the shakes. It was more embarrassing than being whispered about. At least with the whispering she could pretend everyone was talking about someone else.

Her eyes fluttered shut as she stifled a groan of embarrassment, only this morning a particularly bad moment had passed while working with Master Therin.

She’d been mortified when it had happened, so she’d shunted the horrific images, her memories and feelings to the side with such single mindedness that Master Therin had mistaken the determination on her face. “Analindë dear, most mages specialize in one area or another; as you progress through your studies you’ll find what interests you most. You do not have to learn it all at the same time.” She had not bothered to correct him.

He liked it better that way. He helped her freely with some things and then thought that was all she needed. He always became fidgety when she asked him for anything further.

Regardless of what he told her, it was difficult to let go and take things slowly. Life was rushing past her at great speed. Choices—she was not ready for—were being foisted upon her. Memories—she’d rather not deal with—came at her anyway. So she boxed the choices, nightmares and memories up, locking them away, and hid. Hid in the library that is.

She buried herself in books and read, and read, and read. Seeking all knowledge except for knowledge that would provoke the things tucked away within that box, forcing her to loose the tempest within. She pursued safe topics only and kept that box locked up tight. Analindë flipped the pages of the book in her lap back to the beginning of the chapter and began to read, again, this time trying especially hard to actually see and understand the words on the page, not just glance at them as her eyes moved along. Unfortunately, her mind kept wandering.

She’d rejoined the same set of classmates she’d studied with last year in Potions and they’d warmly welcomed her back. It was the
one
place besides the library and tower that she felt at peace.

The contrast between the welcome of her friends and the coldness she felt while in Master Harwyn’s class couldn’t have been greater. Master Harwyn ruled her class with rigid control. None of the students ever truly felt at ease under her hawkeyed stare. She’d learned that the professor didn’t play favorites, but least-favorites. Analindë was simply the newest victim, or least-favorite, in a game Master Harwyn had perfected centuries ago. It hadn’t taken Analindë many days to realize that her classmate was right and that Master Harwyn thought she didn’t deserve to be in her class and treated her accordingly. The other students followed her lead, mostly in order to avoid the same treatment. There really wasn’t much anyone could do about it, otherwise the game the professor played would have been over long ago.

Analindë reshelved the book she’d been perusing, no, the book she’d been staring blankly at, and trod down the stairs to the main entrance. She ignored the faint tug from the books on the second floor, their pull on her growing ever fainter as she continued to ignore them. The dinner hour fast approached and she was hungry. She felt a faint shimmer as she passed through the ward placed on the library doors. She’d noticed it two days ago after Andulmaion had taught her a fourth-order ward and sensed that the weave on the library was probably along the lines of an eighth-order ward. She wondered if her abilities to sense things would continue to increase as she learned more. She hoped so; it was kind of exciting to make new discoveries. Her afternoons of shielding practice with Andulmaion were proceeding well, for the most part.

She rarely saw Master Therin anymore; theirs was an unusual relationship. He really didn’t know what to do with her. She didn’t know enough for private tutoring, yet her abilities were too far progressed for her to attend regular classes. Students usually took general coursework with several teachers and only moved to the towers to complete their studies after thirty years of study. Analindë had only been in school for a few years and still had much to learn before being allowed the honor of tower mentorship.

The root of the problem? Analindë was too powerful to be left unattended and Master Therin was too busy to spend the needed time with her. He was tied up with the High Council Mages, and besides, she didn’t know enough to warrant one-on-one lessons. This left her in an atypical state.

Fortunately, she’d been able to continue on with her Potions class since not much Energy work was performed. They mostly discussed the theory behind potions, not the actual making of them. However, in Healing, she’d been moved up the ranks and had been expected to play catch-up. Healing was very hands-on for the first several levels. It would have been a waste of Analindë’s time to have her sit and watch her fellow students attempt to learn something—over a period of fifteen years—that she’d picked up in one or two healing sessions with Laerwen. No, that would not have been good. But her core skills were still lacking, as well as her implementing techniques. So she read and studied harder, hoping that she could glean enough from books so that the technical side of her skills weren’t hobbled for the rest of her life. With just a few topics to work on, shielding, potions, and healing, it looked as though she was going to play catch-up with all of her subjects one at a time. She wondered how many years it was going to take her and what sorts of bad habits she was going to develop along the way.

And then there was poor Andulmaion, who had been charged with tutoring and keeping watch over her in his spare time. Which, as a fellow apprentice and peer, made things awkward from time to time.

Her shielding work with Andulmaion was often frustrating. She would cast shields. He would break through them.

It was more disconcerting than it sounded.

It was hard work. She was only allowed to activate two shields at a time, one for general defenses and the second as a specific defense. It required all of her concentration to rotate her basic defensive shield to keep Andulmaion from breaking through while forming shields against his other attacks. If he got through both of her shields before he called it quits he would zap her with a numbing mage bolt. Thus her motivation to keep him blocked and to work quickly was strong. Mage bolts stung quite horribly. Needless to say, Analindë was becoming quite adept at keeping him out.

Then there was the rest of the time she spent in the tower. Every now and then Andulmaion—or Master Therin when he happened to be around—would send her a zing when the mask hiding her source and strength became too weak or slipped. And no matter how hard she tried to feather the edges on the illusionary shield—hovering just above her mask—the edges remained crisp and clear.

She paused before entering the dining hall, wondering if she should eat here or take something up to her rooms. She didn’t feel up for much company but didn’t want to haul food through the hallways. Perhaps she could just eat quickly, then escape to her rooms so she could think in peace.

She slipped around groups of chattering students to the back of the hall. It was difficult being surrounded by so many people. Not because she’d grown up in a small village, but because her senses were under constant assault from the swirling energies around her. Maybe this was one of the reasons why her ancestors had settled so far away from everyone. The cacophony of Energy made her anxious. Tonight, she would see if she could corner Master Therin and ask if there was a better way to block the noise out.

None of Analindë’s friends had arrived yet so she sat down at their empty table and began to serve herself. Tonight dinner was some sort of beef dish that had simmered for hours in a rich herbed wine sauce.

She spooned some wavy pasta onto her plate and caught a whiff of herbed olive oil as she reached for a slice of crusty warm bread. The bread was so fresh it burnt her fingers. She dropped it on her plate, grinning just before a cold chill raced up her back. What!

She forced herself to appear normal by reaching for her cup to take a sip of water. Covertly, she sent out a subtle swath of seeking Energy to track the prod she’d felt against her mask. Faint residues remained, but she didn’t know how to read them. She slipped into magesight, and without turning, she followed the flickering trail through the morass of disputing energies in the dining hall to the busy doorway where the flickers stopped.

It could have been anyone. She dropped her cup onto the table.

Whoever had sent the questing thought was long gone. She sent her seeking tendril of thought around the room, searching for Andulmaion. He wasn’t here. She turned back to her meal. All pleasure she’d had in the savory dish was gone. She couldn’t eat fast enough in order to get out of there.

Master Therin was going to lock her back up in his tower. She panicked. “Perhaps I was mistaken Master Therin. I’m still new into my powers; I could have thought that I sensed something that never really happened.”

He stopped his pacing to study her, he rubbed his head as if it ached. “Are you sure?”

“Most likely. I certainly couldn’t identify what I saw, nor make sense of what I felt. I think that I just guessed that someone had prodded me.”

He dropped his hand, wandered over to the side table and began to peel an orange. “Well, if you think so, maybe I’m overreacting. Why don’t you take a day off from classes. Stay here and study, then venture out the day after that to see how you feel?”

One day was better than an indefinite slew of days so she acquiesced. “That sounds like a good idea, and thank you for your time Master Therin.”

“Anytime Analindë, anytime.” He smiled congenially as she left the room. Analindë tried not to let her heart sink as she pulled her bedroom door shut behind her. She’d gone to him for advice, to see if he’d tell her what area to study so that she could learn to decipher the flickering residue she’d sensed, to see if he’d perhaps allow her to begin weapons training. But his response had been to lock her up in the tower where there was safety.

She slumped down on her bed. What did he expect her to do? Never venture outside ever again? Her cause was hopeless, caught in a situation cast by fate, and pushed along by circumstances beyond her control. She was going to have to muddle through this very carefully, very carefully indeed. She needed to be brave and to not panic.

A few mornings later, Analindë styled her hair carefully. She chose an intricate design that left her hair half up and half down. On the top half, tiny braids were woven into a graceful pattern that showed off her ears to advantage. The bottom half hung in long loose curling waves down her back. She stepped back from the mirror to study her reflection; the saffron dress she wore was elegant. It had just enough sophistication to give her courage, but was still young enough to match her age. Satisfied that all was in order with nary a hair out of place, she picked up her papers and books and glided out the door.