Magic's Promise (27 page)

The adolescent's eyes slowly calmed; grew saner. He stared at Vanyel for a long moment, then buried his face in his hands and began sobbing, trembling on the jagged edge of hysteria.

“
I-don't-remember -
”
he choked.
“
Oh,
please,
I don't, I really don't.
”

Before he could do anything to comfort or calm the youngster, Vanyel heard a noise in the distance, muffled by the door, that made his hair stand on end.

The sullen, angry roaring of a mob -

Lores' head snapped up, and a look of grim satisfaction spread over his face.
“
The armsmen,
”
he said smugly.
“
They must have spread the word. That's the people of Highjorune out there,
Milord Herald-Mage.
You don't rank
them,
and they aren't likely to listen to you. What's your plan
now?
They're going to want the boy. I think you should let them have him.
”

Tashir gave a kind of choking gasp, and looked straight into Vanyel's eyes, his whole body pleading for rescue. His eyes were swollen, tears smeared across his face, and hair tumbled into one eye, his expression was tragic and hopeless.

Vanyel could no more have resisted a boy who looked like
that
than he could have given up Yfandes.

“
I still outrank
you,
Lores,
”
he said coldly.
“
You are still under
my
orders. Get out there and do what you can to keep them off.
”

“Keep them off?
You're madder than
he
is!
”

“Move!”
Vanyel snapped, rising to his feet, as the flickering of torches lit the gap in the open door Lores made no further protest; he snorted, and stalked across the entryway to the door, his backbone stiff with unspoken resentment.

Vanyel followed him as far as the door, and once he had barely cleared it, slammed it shut practically on his heels. He heard a muffled exclamation, and the muttering of the mob grew louder and nearer. Vanyel threw the bolt into place across the door; it was metal, but it was
not
going to hold up against a concerted attack.

“
That . . . isn't going to hold them for long,
”
Tashir said fearfully, brushing the hair out of his eyes with the back of one hand.

“
It won't have to,
”
Vanyel answered absently, moving his Othersenses
out
and
down
and hoping that it was no coincidence.

There was that node, the most powerful node he'd ever encountered outside
Tayledras
lands. Given that Highjorune was situated
on top
of the convergence of those energy - streams, given that the node
had
to be around here somewhere. . . .

Had the palace been built where
he'd
have put it?

It was no coincidence. The palace was situated
directly
over the node; a node so strong it roared in Vanyel's mind.

“
Now that pompous peabrain is going to find out
why
I outrank him,
”
he growled to himself, and
reached -

The current-power had been wild; it was nothing to this. He had compared channels in his mother and Yfandes to a dripping icicle and a waterfall.
This
was to those streams what a raging Firestorm was to a campfire. But Vanyel knew its secrets and how to control it, and it raged to
his
will.

He set his mind in the spell-cycle; he murmured a few words, gathered his will, and cupped his hands, unconsciously mirroring the
shape
he wanted to create.

Then he snapped his hands open, crying out a single word of
command.

A flash of light made his closed eyelids burn red for a moment. Tashir cried out fearfully.

Absolute and complete silence descended on them like sudden deafness.

He opened his eyes; a steady, yellow glow on the outer walls was just barely visible to his Othersight.

He had erected a mage - barrier about the palace that would keep out anything
he
didn't want in, including such intangibles as thought - or other magic.
He
could pass through: so could anything he brought with him. No one and nothing else.

With effort his thoughts passed it.

:Yfandes? How are you and the stranger?:

:They are ignoring us,:
she said.
:You have frightened the Young One, and angered Lores. The mob has not made up its mind.:

:Even if they do, it won't get them anywhere. Give me a moment to make up
my
mind.:

Vanyel severed the connection between himself and the node. He could control it, yes, but at a price. He'd just earned himself another scattering of silver hairs. Among other things.

He opened his eyes and saw Tashir huddled up against the wall, shaking so hard his teeth rattled. He walked stiffly to the bench, and touched the young man's shoulder. He got no response. He turned Tashir's face into the light, and saw his eyes glazed over in withdrawal.

“
Damn.
”
Vanyel sat down heavily beside him.
“
Now what?
”

He thought hard for a moment; made up his mind quickly, and
reached
for the node again.

The shock as he touched it the second time was a little less. When he could catch his breath again, he used the node-energy to boost his own Mindspeech far beyond what he could have reached alone, sending his mind out questing for a Mindpresence so dear and familiar it could almost have drawn him on its own.

Touch.

Startlement.
:Who?:

:Savil?:

Recognition and relief.
:Gods!
Ke'chara,
what has been bloody going
on?
Where are you ?:

He told her everything that had happened, from the time he'd been awakened by the nightmare. He compressed as much of it as he could, warned her in advance before he Mindsent her an image of Tashir, and even so, the close resemblance to Tylendel came as a shock to her that mirrored his own. He had been Tylendel's lover - but Savil had been mentor, friend, confidant, and near-mother to Tylendel, the role she filled now for Vanyel.

:So,:
she sent, after she regained her mental balance.
:Plans?:

:I'm taking him into protective custody, and getting him out of here.:

:How, with a mob - oh, gods.:
Realization and fear. Flatly-
:You're going to Gate.:

:Do you see any other choice?:
he asked.
:Even if the mob weren't there
-
I
tried to remember what little I've heard about investigative procedures.
Preserve the evidence.
If I break the shield-spell to get out,
anybody
can get in, and I don't have the power to set a second spell, not this solid, not from the outside. From the inside I can tap the node, but the interference I'd create with the shield would keep me effectively
out
of the node. You know that. Shields are permeable to the creator, but they still resist penetration. We have to find out what happened here, and we won't if anyone can get in and muddle things up.:

Her mind-voice was gritty and gray with grim concern.
:Far too logical to make me happy, love. But you rank
me
these days, and there's reasons enough for that for me to follow
your
lead. Where are you coming in?:

He'd thought about that very carefully.
:The door to the old chapel. It's on sanctified ground, it's one of the few doors inside Forst Reach big enough to use as a Gate-terminus, but it's not under constant use, and I know it as well as I will ever know any place. So be ready for me, because I'm not going to be worth much when I come through. :

:As if I didn't know. Be careful - please.:

:I'll try.:

He cut the connection to the node, which dropped him out of the link with Savil, and turned his mind to one nearer at hand.

:Brightlove-:

:Chosen
-:

:I'm Gating myself and Tashir out of here. You and the Young One make a run for it. If that damned fool calling himself a Herald can't take the hint, it's not my fault; I've got too many balls in the air as it is.:

She trembled with concern. :
I
will warn Jenna; if she can get him to mount,
she
can carry him off whether he likes it or not. I won't tell you not to use that means of escape, only - take care!:

He touched her with a mental caress.
:I
shall.:

He opened his eyes, and considered the possibilities, finally deciding on the open archway onto the stairs as his best bet. Putting a Gate-terminus on the outer door where the shield was would be risking more magically than he cared to. At full powers, maybe. Not now.

But first - He shoved outward a little, chuckling nastily as the expanding shield shoved Lores down the stairs and into the courtyard.
There. That should keep them quiet for a bit.

He walked to the center of the hallway, raised his hands, and
began.

He spun bits of himself, his stored powers, into the structure. He could not tap the node for this; the only
possible
way to use external mage-energy for a Gate would be - at least as far as he had learned - if two mages were lifebonded, for at some deep level, two lifebonded were
one.
And, as always, as soon as he had formed the Portal around the edge of the archway, his uniquely sensitized channels began to burn painfully as he resonated to Gate-energy. When the Gate was complete, he'd be in torment.

But that was something he had learned to accept and work around.
The Weaving - He
spun
himself,
his own substance, out into threads that quested for the unique
place
he sought, the place where he would build the other end of the Gate. At some point he was no longer having to
send
those searching filaments; they were
pulling
on him, and it was all he could do to keep them from spinning away from him and taking everything that
was
him with them. Then, finally, one of them
found
the chapel door – another - a third - There was a flare of light, not so bright as the one when he'd built the shield, and his knees gave.

Oh, hell-
he thought dazedly.
I
wasn't as ready as I thought I was.

He crouched on the filthy, shard-covered floor, panting in pain, for a long, long moment before he had the strength to look up. But when he did, he saw, not the wreckage of the Highjorune Great Hall, but the welcoming, familiar corridor that led to the old Forst Reach chapel. And thrice-blessed Savil, tunic on backward, waiting. The pain -

I
...
think I'm in trouble. I've never . . . been this drained... before,
he thought, somewhere under the red wash of burning.
Oh, gods - if I'd known it was going to be like this, I'd never have had the courage. . . .

He got to his feet, somehow; he staggered like a mortally - wounded drunk trying to get to Tashir. He was so dizzy he could hardly see, and only concentrating on each step, one at a time, enabled him to cross the hallway to the young man.

“
Ta-shir,
”
he croaked, and prayed for a little intelligence in those eyes. His prayers were answered
this
time; the young man stared at him with a kind of foggy awareness, though he still trembled in every limb.
“
Go ... get up ...
”
His feeble tugs on Tashir's arm were answered, the young man stumbled to his feet.
“
Go ... there ...
”
He pushed Tashir toward the Gate, every step bought with black - red waves of pain.

Maddeningly, Tashir
stopped,
right on the edge.

Vanyel screamed in frustration and torment, and
shoved,
sending the young man stumbling through, and unable to keep his balance, fell right through after him.

Fell from torment into agony; strength gone, control gone, sight, sound, all senses. There was only the pain -

And then there was nothing.

“
You look like hell,
”
said a rough voice just above I his head.

What an amazing coincidence, Savil,
Vanyel thought without opening his eyes.
I
feel
like hell.

“
I seem,
”
his aunt continued dryly,
“
to spend an inordinate amount of time at your bedside. And don't try to pretend you're not awake.
”