City of Sorcerers (23 page)

"I wonder why the warriors didn't tear that down, too," Rafnir commented. He waved at the remnants of the buildings around the square. ''They didn't miss anything else."

Savaron tore his eyes away from the gold sun and glared around at the ruins.

"They probably didn't want to anger the goddess," he said, then added with real bitterness, "though why they should worry about that when they were destroying her city and washing themselves in their own clan blood, I don't know."

Kelene looked coward her brother in admiration. So he felt it too---the grief and anger and sense of loss. She wondered if the reason she and Savaron felt the disaster of this place so keenly was because of their parents. Not just because Gabria and Athlone had come through here and brought their own impressions of Moy Tura to the clans, but because the chieftain and the Corin woman were the first clanspeople since the Purge to be allowed to live and practice sorcery. Gabria and Athlone could have so easily become victims of the same hatred that razed this city. The realization made Kelene shudder.

"There's the Sorcerer's Hall," said Sayyed, interrupting her thoughts.

At the north end of the square sat a broad flight of steps that led up to the skeleton of what had once been a large building. It seemed to the onlookers that the building had suffered the worst of the victors' savagery. Not only were its outer walls torn down to its foundation, but the broken pillars and heaps of rubble within showed the unmistakable scorch marks and heat fractures of a large fire.

"Not much left of it," Morad said sourly. "How do you know that's what it was?"

"By its height," Savaron answered before Sayyed could reply. "Look at those steps. The Sorcerers' Hall was said to be the tallest building in the city. The Council of Twelve had their chambers in the very top, so they could look down on their whole domain. Sorcerers came to study here and to teach those who followed. Matrah wrote his tome in one of those vanished rooms."

Morad grimaced. "Yeah, I know all that. So tell me something I don't know.

Where are the healers' records?"

"And where is the Korg?" Niela added. She had to clear her throat to steady her voice.

Sayyed slid off Afer and patted the black's neck. "Two excellent questions. Let's see if we can find the answer to just the first." He studied the buildings around the square before he continued. "We'll split up into two groups and start at the Sorcerers'

Hall. Rafnir, Kelene, and Savaron, work your way along the eastern side. Niela and Morad will come with me to the western side."

The travelers quickly dismounted, broke into their groups, and hurried toward the Sorcerers' Hall, the Hunnuli and the cat following along. At the steps of the great hall, they realized there was no point wasting time searching that ruin. Everything above the foundation was destroyed. They went on to the next set of buildings at either side.

Sayyed and his companions disappeared into the remains of what could have been a barracks or dormitory. Kelene and the two warriors found themselves in a structure comprised of numerous spacious rooms. The roof had collapsed onto the second floor above and most of the walls were crumbling. Fortunately, a few support beams held up enough of the first floor ceiling to give the three people spaces to search.

Carefully they worked their way into the dim interior. The first room was lit only by beams of light gleaming through cracks in the ceiling. Nevertheless, there was enough illumination to show the clanspeople that the place had been deliberately wrecked. The floor was a shambles of broken furniture, smashed glass and crockery, and tools, all buried under two centuries of dirt, cobwebs, and windblown debris.

"This must have been a house of artisans," Rafnir speculated. "Woodworking tools," he said, holding up several old chisels, their wooden handles rotted away.

"You may be right," Kelene called from another room. "There are stone-carving tools and slabs of marble in here."

For the next few hours they searched, room to room, house by house, one building at a time around the square, and found nothing. Early in the afternoon they entered what looked like a large apothecary shop where they spent the better pan of an hour searching through shelves, bins, and broken jars. After a while Rafnir went outside through an overgrown garden to check some outbuildings. Kelene and Savaron continued their investigation into the next set of rooms facing the square.

Kelene's ankle and foot were throbbing when she finally dropped down on a fallen timber and pushed her hair back from her face.

"You made a smudge," said Rafnir from the doorway. He walked into the room, carrying something small under his arm. With a smile, he wiped the dirt off her forehead and sat down beside her.

Savaron, just behind them, grinned to himself and slipped out of sight into another part of the building.

Kelene felt her heart begin a slow pound. If anyone had asked her on the afternoon of the Induran race if she would want to sit beside Rafnir, she would have spat in the speaker's face. Now, after all that had happened since that momentous race, she not only wanted him to sit there, but she felt safe, exhilarated, warm, and lightheaded all in one rush of emotion. It was a reaction she had not anticipated.

Kelene sat close to him, so breathless and confused she didn't know what to say. She prayed he would not make any mention of her ankle at that moment. His pity she didn't need.

Happily, he didn't. Instead he tilted his head and looked at her. "How did you do that spell yesterday?"

Kelene was so startled by his question that she couldn't remember for a moment.

"What spell?"

"Valorian's spell to form a platform of wind. It was brilliant."

She blushed at his compliment and looked down at the rocks by her feet. "It was desperation."

He laughed, a deep, pleasant sound. "Well, it worked. Demira flew like the wind."

"No," Kelene said; raising her head again. Her confusion was forgotten in the remembrance of the day before. "She didn't fly. Not like I want her to fly. She was only carried by air and magic, and I couldn't have kept her up much longer. The spell took too much strength to sustain. If Demira is going to truly fly, she must do it on her own."

Rafnir grinned broadly, his eyes boring into hers. With deliberate casualness, he uncovered the object under his arm and handed her a flat chunk of weathered marble.

"I found this for you. It was part of a frieze over a door in the garden back there." The marble felt cold to Kelene's hands. The top was featureless, but the bottom was knobby and uneven to the touch.

The girl turned it over and stared at the delicate relief carving on the stone. The subject was fanciful; the workmanship was exquisite and detailed. It was so perfect it brought tears to Kelene's eyes.

"A winged horse," she breathed. She ran her fingers over the raised figure, tracing its prancing legs and the wide, outstretched wings that curved gracefully from powerful shoulders.

She turned her shining eyes to Rafnir, and he felt a quiver tingle through him. "I, uh, broke it off. . . I didn't think the owner would mind," he managed to say.

"This is it," Kelene said, jabbing a finger at the carving.

"This is what we have to do!" She subsided into silence while her imagination sprang free of the earth and went wheeling among the clouds. "A winged horse," she sang to herself, and the words glittered in her mind. She hugged the old stone carving to her chest. She had the image now; the end result was clear in her mind. Somehow they had to devise a workable spell that would create that result without injury to Demira.

Was it possible? Kelene tucked the marble tile inside her tunic. She hoped so. By the gods, she hoped so!

"Thank you," she began to say to Rafnir when she heard Niela call somewhere outside.

"Kelene! Rafnir!" Niela shouted nervously. "Savaron! Where are you?"

Kelene rushed to her feet in alarm. "She shouldn't be yelling like that." Before she could limp to the nearest opening, Rafnir was past her and running out the doorway.

Just as he left the building, the quiet was abruptly shattered by a tremendous roar that reverberated through the square. Kelene heard all six Hunnuli neigh a wild challenge as Niela screamed in terror.

"Niela! Run!" Kelene heard Rafnir yell. Kelene lunged frantically for the doorway. Under the sudden pressure of her weight, her weak ankle gave way, and she stumbled into the wall. She would have fallen if Savaron hadn't come up behind her and caught her arm.

"What's happening?" he cried, steadying her against the broken doorframe. They both looked out in time to see the Korg bounding across the square toward the running figure of Niela. Kelene's fingers clenched the wood, and her voice rose in a scream. "No!"

Half again as large as a Hunnuli, the Korg was shaped of gray stone in the form of the maned cave lions that roamed the Darkhorn Mountains. Long, powerful legs drove its massive body with incredible speed after the fleeing clanswoman.

Kelene felt herself go numb as she watched Niela desperately trying to reach the cover of the nearest building. Sayyed and Morad raced after her from their side of the square, and Rafnir dosed in from the opposite direction, but Kelene realized they had little hope of reaching the Jehanan woman. The Korg was gaining too rapidly.

Only Niela's Hunnuli moved faster than the stone lion. Like a black streak, the mare galloped across the paving stones to defend her rider. The Korg was a leap away from catching Niela when the Hunnuli charged between them and reared, pounding her hooves in the face of the huge lion. The Korg barely paused. It towered over the furious horse, its round eyes glowing with an uncanny gold light, its stone teeth bared.

In one swipe of a large front paw it smashed the black mare to the ground.

Niela stumbled in horror. She clamped her hands to her head, and wailed a long, rending scream of anguish.

The remaining Hunnuli neighed again, their voices high in anger and grief.

"Stay here," Savaron snarled to Kelene. He threw himself on his stallion and galloped after the other men. From several different directions, the four men raised their hands and fired a barrage of the deadly blue Trymian force at the Korg. The lion roared in anger. It was knocked back a pace by the powerful energy, but the bolts bounced harmlessly off its body. Before the men could fire a second time, the Korg pounced forward.

Kelene screamed again as the fearsome beast crushed her friend under its stone paws. Through her tears she saw the lion trample Niela and toss her like a bloody rag onto a heap of rubble.

Her face hot with fury, Kelene limped out the doorway ready to find Demira and join the battle against the Korg in spite of her brother's order. She had no more than set foot out the door when the Korg turned and, as quick as lightning, went after Sayyed. The warrior sprang for Afer's back.

Sayyed bellowed, "Scatter! All of you!" and Kelene threw herself back inside the shadowed building.

The young men obeyed, too. Vaulting astride their Hunnulis, Morad and Rafnir fled from the square in two different directions. Savaron disappeared past a broken archway down a side street. Sayyed took one last look after his companions, then fired another bolt of magic at the Korg to draw him on. Afer, the Korg close on his heels, galloped down the northern road and vanished into the ruins.

The square, empty now except for the bodies of Niela and her Hunnuli, fell silent.

From the dark doorway, Kelene peered out and spotted Demira close by, pressed into a narrow space between the broken walls of two buildings. The little Hunnuli was visibly trembling. Thankfully, the girl eased out the door and joined the horse in her hiding place. They stood for a long time pressed together while Kelene's tears wet Demira's dusty coat.

When the silence and solitude of the square became too much to bear, Kelene and the filly slipped from their shelter and moved warily toward Niela. There was no question that the woman and the mare were dead. Their broken, torn bodies were already swarming with flies.

Kelene swallowed hard and looked around the square. There was no sign of anyone to help her with the task she wanted to do, but she was not going to leave Niela to the carrion eaters. While Demira kept watch, Kelene dragged the woman's body close to the mare and laid them out together.

There was no time to build a pyre or dig a real grave, so Kelene used a levitation spell to move chunks of rock around and over the bodies until they were completely covered.

The magic worked so well for her she was able to complete the task before the sun had moved perceptibly in the sky. All the spells and lessons her mother had tried to teach her must have soaked in after all, she mused when she placed the final stone on the cairn. She was growing more confident with her talent and more comfortable with the feel of magic coursing through her. Niela would have been proud of her.

Sudden anger made Kelene kick a rock across the paving. She raised her fist to the sky. "What do you want us to prove?" she shouted to the gods in their firmament.

"First the plague, then the wraith, now the Korg. Can't you give us a little help?"

There was no answer from the bright sky---not that Kelene expected one from gods who remained so mysterious and aloof.

But Demira tossed her head nervously.
Kelene, I do not think yelling is a good
idea.

The young woman clenched her teeth to keep her anger from boiling out any more. The filly was right---shouting could bring trouble. Kelene bent down instead and twisted a piece of flowering vine around the top stone of the cairn.

She felt a soft muzzle nudge her elbow, and she wrapped her arms around Demira's neck. The sweet, familiar smell of horse filled her nostrils; the black hairs tickled her cheek. To her, though, the most soothing sensation was the warm trust and comfort she felt in the Hunnuli's presence. Gone was her old reluctance to ride the black horses. Now she felt only pride and honor as she pulled herself up onto the filly's back. She wasn't certain how Demira felt about their new friendship, but Kelene had a notion that her gelding, Ishtak, would have to find a new master.