Analindë (The Chronicles of Lóresse) (35 page)

The person accepting the binding will know and understand the strengths, power, and potential contained within the one who pledges. And the pledgee will be able to see directly to the heart of the acceptee and know if the acceptance is good. They will sense the power, strength, and potential of that person he or she pledges to, but to a much lesser degree.

Should either party be false, the binding will be made void, with the appearance of binding lasting until the wholesome and good person either slays the false or makes his or her escape. For in that moment of binding the acceptee will recognize faithlessness for what it is and know all plots against them.

Likewise, the pledgee will also know if the person he or she swears their alliance to is not worthy of his or her loyalty and any plots that stand against them.

A warning to those who pledge, and accept, and then turn, becoming Traitor. For all Allies will know it. And thus it is demanded by the Stars that those whose hearts do change and turn to evil must be slayed. For it is an abhorrence to the oaths they did swear by pledging or accepting the Binding.

And thus the Binding is made safe so that friend cannot betray Friend without warning. For if it was not so, the Binding would be for naught.

And so it is that Ally may recognize Ally on sight as part of the network of Allies without swearing the binding to each other. And Ally may recognize Traitor and slay them.

Also, so the network was forged so that Allies might find each other when great need arises and call. Allowing acceptee and pledgee to hear each other’s need over great distances.

And so is the Binding of Allies done:

The pledgee reaches his or her right arm out toward the acceptee, fingers splayed.

The acceptee reaches out, third and fourth fingers together, to touch the back of the pledgee’s wrist.

So it is done, so it is sworn. Forever.

The Binding of a Sovereign

There is a second binding. That of fealty to a Sovereign. It is similar to the Binding of Allies and only differs in that even though the Sovereign will recognize the strengths, weaknesses, abilities, and powers of the swearer, the swearer will only know whether the Sovereign is false or true.

And though a Sovereign may not ride to give aid to every swearer, the swearer shall know when his or her Sovereign is in need of his or her aid and may act.

So it is forged, that if the Sovereign’s heart turns to greed, evil, and becomes false, the swearer shall know it and rise up to slay the Sovereign. For such is the punishment for breaking such an oath.

Likewise shall the Sovereign know if a swearer has turned false.

And so is the Binding of Fealty to a Sovereign done:

The swearer kneels, with head bowed, right arm bent, palm up to touch the left shoulder. The Sovereign accepts by placing the third and fourth fingers on the swearer’s upturned wrist.

So it is done, so it is sworn. Forever.

Know this, that as of the writing of these pages, the Binding has already been corrupted as friend begins to hide from Friend. The
appearance
of Binding has been preserved but the acceptance of such has been lessened. The binding remains incomplete. So it is, that a Sovereign is afraid to accept responsibility to rule well or a friend to remain honest.

Kaljari EikkiUsko,

Saara of the Tapioeppo

Analindë reread the book twice more to commit it to memory and tucked it between her leg and the side of the chair. She traced the sinuous pattern along the binding of the book as she stared out the window at the frozen landscape. Had Pedar known what he was doing? Or had he only known of the pledge, not the binding? She looked down at the book in confusion; it was purring again. She grinned, then looked back out of the window.

She wondered if she dared ask Pedar what he had felt that day in the dining hall when she had reached out to touch his wrist, but something warned her that it was a forbidden unwritten rule to ask.

The slim volume flared hot beneath her hand—as if to acknowledge the correctness of her thought—and began to cool. The next time she and Pedar were alone she’d ask him if he’d known about the binding or if they’d stumbled upon it together, but would avoid asking him what he’d felt.

She traced the curling pattern around again as she thought of Lithilwen of the Yeslinthan Mages and The Great War of Andahessar. Had it been worse than the Elven Wars five thousand years ago? Part of her knew that it had been worse. Much, much worse. How else would they have been driven to search for such a strong oath? She thought of the possibility of Erulissé turning against her and Analindë’s blood ran cold. It would be awful. Never knowing who to trust. She shivered and began to trace the pattern again.

Only this time her finger met fine broadcloth instead of finely tooled leather. She looked down in astonishment at the fingers hovering over her leg. The slim volume was gone. She stood up and double checked the spaces between the cushions and underneath the chair and found nothing. The book had vanished, returning to wherever it had come from.

She sat back down, pensive. A long while later, Analindë reached for the Advanced Warding book she’d pulled from the shelves with hope in her heart similar to Lithilwen’s. For if they were going to war again, this Binding would help to dispel the worry.

The Twenty-First Chapter

T
wo days later, Analindë slipped
along the street as unobtrusively and as quickly as she could. She sped around the slower moving students and trailed a tendril of Energy along the school’s outer walls, searching for a passageway she could duck into. Someone was following her.

There were too many students around to figure out who it was, and she didn’t want to draw attention to herself. So she kept on walking. She’d impulsively decided to go into town and had gone to fetch Erulissé but found her missing. She was halfway to the marketplace by herself before she’d noticed her shadow.

The prickling along the nape of her neck stopped abruptly and she stumbled. Where had it gone? She caught herself from turning around to search the street, and instead resumed her fast pace and merged into a group of older students. She pulled her winter cloak tightly around herself and tugged the hood up over her head. The street was so crowded that the other students didn’t notice, or mind, her intrusion. She measured her steps with theirs, remaining in the semi-protection of the older group, and sent a shielded swath of Energy out behind her. Her pursuer was gone. The prickling at her nape was gone. She was safe, for the moment.

She sped back up and headed for the Weapons District in the newer quarter. Feeling vulnerable, and with all of her knives and blades back at home, Analindë had come deep into the heart of the city to look for arms. The plan was to make her shopping trip quick and be back to Master Therin’s tower before Andulmaion noticed her absence. She let her mind wander over her encounter with whoever had been shadowing her. They hadn’t stayed with her very long, and she wondered which path she should take on her way back.

“Hey, wait up!”

Three Scout Apprentices pushed past her, laughing, then ducked down a side street. “Sure, we’ll meet you there.” One of the young men called over his shoulder before they completely disappeared down the darkened alley.

“You know I can’t–” the fourth scout wheezed to a halt just behind her. His footsteps sounded uneven; it reminded her of the time she’d gotten shin splints and her calves had cramped up while she’d chased Riian and Arandur along a mountain ridge. Her legs had been so painfully tired as she’d pushed herself to catch them that her feet had slapped against the ground just like that.

“You know I can’t track. Of course they know I can’t track,” the boy muttered to himself before taking off down the side alley at a sprint.

Tracking. . . . Scouts. Of course! They were tracking each other. She’d mistaken their game with each other for someone tracking
her
. Analindë’s steps lightened as she ducked down a side alley that would take her to the newer section of town.

She hadn’t yet been able to persuade Master Therin to reconsider allowing her to study weapons work. And although he hadn’t been happy, she had hopes that he would finally relent and give his permission. She moved from shop to shop perusing, hefting, holding, and caressing cold metal implements of death, but none felt even half as good as the blades she was used to. She hadn’t realized how spoiled she’d been, until now.

Analindë hunched over a row of delicate throwing daggers with a growing sense of unease ruining her good mood. The searching touch was light. She would have dismissed it from her mind, except that it kept darting back to touch her. It was as if the searcher thought that if he poked fast enough she wouldn’t notice.

He was attempting to push through her mask. So much for thinking that it was the scouts attempting to track each other.

She sent the finest of Energy strands out to stalk the intruder, but was brought up short when the subtle pokes turned to sharp jabs. Whomever had sent the tendril must have realized she was attempting to track him back. What did he want? Why try to get through her mask? Better to retreat to the tower than stick around to find out.

She briskly walked out of the shop and searched the crowd. No one stared at her, no one ran. Shoppers milled the street looking in stores and carrying packages tied with string. Another jab poked at her and she flung a protective shield around herself approximately the size and shape of her body, then strode quickly down the cobbled street. She worried as she walked. It was safe no longer.

It wasn’t the first time someone had tried to see through her mask to her source, but it was the first attempt to try so aggressively. She wondered who was daring enough to breach the Codes of Conduct in order to view her source.

Another tendril jabbed at her and she stumbled in shock. With her senses outstretched to monitor the shield, she’d felt the acidy burn of something on the other end of the jab. Intent.

The pursuer didn’t want to see inside. He wanted to leave something behind. Horrified, she moved faster. Behind her she felt her pursuer doggedly sticking with her. A bright spark flared to life in the back of her mind. The void. She’d forgotten about the void. She shivered as she darted down the street. She couldn’t make the things she sensed behind her line up with the void in her mind. The spark, no
He
, it was a he. He was fuzzy and she couldn’t track him, she could only sense that he was following. The back of her neck prickled and she shivered again.

A swirl of Energy coiled at her right. Before it could jab her she sent a stinging mage bolt of Energy streaming down the offending tendril toward its sender. Then she ran. Master Therin would be horrified at what she’d done, if he ever found out.

She wound her way along twisting corridors and narrow streets taking the less traveled but shorter routes back to the school. Her pursuer stayed with her, but out of sight. She’d picked up the mage bolt trick from closely watching Andulmaion during practice. It left her feeling light-headed.

Anger and fear warred within her. She was defenseless. Master Therin had practically ensured that she was so.

“No. Absolutely not,” Master Therin had replied when she’d asked to begin studying offensive mage work. He claimed there was extensive mage work for her to yet learn before she made the switch to study offensive spells. She knew he was right, but she also knew that he thought that she didn’t need offensive spells or that she wouldn’t be able to stomach the idea of learning them. He was wrong.

She slowed down to a walk, hesitating a moment when she caught sight of the Sword Sworn flanking the school’s entrance. When had they begun to guard the school? She wondered. They stared at her curiously as she moved past them. Sword Sworn were frightening and had skills at their disposal that elves didn’t talk about in polite society. Should she enlist their aid?

No. It was probably better not to involve them. Word would get back to Master Therin.

She nodded her greeting to them, but didn’t stop to speak, hurrying forward instead. She shivered as they shifted position behind her to bar the way of others. The more distance she put between herself, her pursuer, and those Sword Sworn the happier she’d be.

She stepped away from the foyer and found herself in an unfamiliar part of the school. She strode swiftly down the main hallway and then consciously chose secondary hallways that would lead her further away. The spark had turned into a flutter in the void and had stopped moving; she assumed that Sword Sworn had stopped her pursuer. She hurried faster, using the situation to her advantage.

The classrooms and practice rooms that she swept past began to look familiar and she realized that she was in the advanced mage studies section of the school. She sensed the flutter in the void move into the school, so she began to search for hidden passageways.

She finally found one and ducked into the cool dark hallway in relief. Away. She needed to get far away. It didn’t matter where the corridor led her, just so long as the destination was safe. What she wouldn’t give for that peaceful forest glade she’d found on her journey to the school. In that place alone had she been at peace. The passageway veered sharply to the left and then led down two flights of stairs. She hoped she wasn’t going to end up in the dungeons somewhere. She followed the twisting passageway for a long time and wondered where in the world it was taking her.

She paused a moment to check the void for the flutter of movement. If she was approximating distances correctly, her pursuer was pacing the hallway exactly where she’d found the passage. It made her nervous. She kept a mental eye on him as she moved forward down the gently sloping corridor.

Several long moments later, she skidded to a halt. The passage abruptly ended into a rough stone wall.

She giggled.

It was a passage to nowhere.

Where had that thought come from and why was she giggling? The stress was getting to her. She batted her fraying control back together. Jittery thoughts jumbled together. Where was she to go now? Definitely not back out. She studied the arched passage behind her and the rough stone wall that lay in front of her.

They’d never finished building the passage.

She pressed her hands up against the stone. It felt cool to her touch. Solid. Age-old and at peace. It felt heavenly. She leaned forward and rested her forehead against the rough wall, breathing deeply. She needed a place to be still, and think, and not worry about who might sneak up on her. And this dead end hallway worked just as well as any other now that the flutter in the void had faded to dark gray.

She needed peace, and this cool blank stone wall would serve her well. She was certainly alone. She pressed her cheek against the cool stone and breathed deeply, relaxing. Maybe, just maybe, some of that peace would soak into her if she got close enough.

A familiar prickle of recognition shimmered in the space between her skin and the stone. Lightning fast, she knew what it was. Mirëdell’s source. She grinned and sent out a tentative hello. It responded by transmuting the stone wall into a curtain of air which left her tumbling forward into a wide dark hallway. Stone reformed, locking her into the unknown part of the school. Oh dear. This couldn’t be good.

She wanted to cry. But she didn’t. Trepidation lay heavy on her heart.

Magelights flared to life behind false windows, imitating the light of day. The air smelled musty from perhaps centuries of non-circulation. She leaned over and trailed her finger along the dusty surface of a tall narrow table standing along one wall. The place hadn’t been used in a very, very long time.

She looked over her shoulder when a shimmer of Energy flickered to life and grew at the far end of the corridor. It felt faint and nonthreatening, so she simply watched as it stretched to fill the end of the hallway and began to move toward her. She noticed as it moved closer that the band of Energy stretched to fill the side rooms, then contracted back in on itself. It crept along stretching and retracting, touching everything in its path. She was tired of running. She was fairly certain the weave was harmless, but she decided it would be a good idea to observe the weave, just to make sure she wasn’t going to get zapped. And so she sank to the floor, resting back against the stone wall she’d fallen through as it approached.

The band of Energy finally reached her. It felt like a cool, ever so slight breeze. She felt freshness, the kind that comes after a gentle springtime shower. She breathed in the scent, wanting it to linger. But the breeze moved past her, leaving shimmering bits of Energy in its wake. The fresh clean scent remained. She looked over at the table. The dust was gone. It was a cleaning ward. Analindë smiled and craned her neck around to study the hallway anew.