SpringFire (19 page)

After a long while, Botellin spoke again. “Something will have to be done now. We can no longer allow Rennirt to pursue his reckless course.”

It took a moment for the meaning of these words to sink in. When they did, I sat up straight and stared for a moment at the danse master. “No longer ‘allow’ him?” I rose to my feet. “No longer allow him? You mean you
allowed
this to happen?” I was shouting now, and my voice echoed around the cave. “You mean you could’ve stopped him?”

“No!” Botellin looked up at me in surprise. “That’s not—”

“If you could’ve stopped him and didn’t, then it’s your fault, too!” And with that I whirled round and rushed out of the cave, ignoring Botellin’s spluttering calls of, “You don’t understand,” and “Please, come back.”

Outside, the morning was fine, although at first I didn’t notice it beyond the glad realization that I wouldn’t have to go back for my cloak.

I stalked off into the trees, avoiding the main path. I didn’t want to run into anyone. I just wanted to burn off this anger.

What was it with these people? Why was it so very hard to tell those who were good from those who were evil? Why did they leave evildoers free to work their harm on innocents? And why was it always me on whom the evil befell?

That made me think of Anazian. He’d been part of the mage community for years; he’d even been Yallick’s own apprentice. And he turned out to be a traitor. I came to an abrupt halt. Maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t as easy to tell the good from the bad as I’d always thought.

As I stood there pondering, the trees all around seemed to wrap me in their embrace.

Eventually, I walked on, my senses opening to the forest around me. The sap in the trees’ veins was beginning to flow freely as the weather warmed. Small creatures moved about, some on the forest floor, some in the underbrush, and others in the branches of the trees. Insects, birds, and animals, all joining into the promise of Spring.

I walked slowly, perusing all around me—stepping carefully around shoots pushing their way up through the detritus on the ground, stopping now and again to examine an early flower, and touching the bark of the trees in greeting—until the sun was straight overhead at midday. With a sigh, I gathered my courage to go back.

I strode into the cave, just as if I hadn’t stormed out of it in a tempest. Botellin caught my eye, and I steeled myself for a lecture, but he didn’t say anything. In a way, that was more aggravating than if he’d lectured me, as if he were making a point that he
understood
and was behaving in an
understanding
sort of way.

The atmosphere in the cave was different from when I’d left. Several logs had been dragged in and arranged around the fire as benches. A number of sages were gathered around Xyla, and I saw that some of her color had returned. When I reached out to her mentally, all I felt was the rhythm of her sleep.

Traz was back at the fire minding the pots again. I went over to him.

“I’d have thought you’d be tired of cooking by now,” I said, sitting on the nearest log.

“Nah. It’s fun when it’s something I don’t
have
to do.” He gave the last pot a stir, replaced the lid, and sat next to me. “And how are
you
, other than hungry?”

I scowled at him. “How do you know that?”

He chuckled. “As if I haven’t always been able to tell.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Turns out it’s because of the danse, eh?”

“Could be,” he shrugged. “Or maybe it’s just the hungry glint you get in your eye.”

Laughing, I said, “Aren’t you the clever one? But you’re right, as always. I’m hungry.”

“Lunch will be soon.”

Throughout the day, I found myself pulling out the mirror again and again, looking at how different sorts of light affected it. It flickered in the firelight of the cave and gleamed later in the bright afternoon sun.

In the evening, I handed the mirror back to Jinna, thanking her for loaning it to me.

“No,” she said, folding my fingers around it. “You keep it. My great-grandfather carved the casing, and it’s a family heirloom, but I think it’s appropriate for you to have it. He would’ve approved.”

“Appropriate?” I asked in confusion.

“Did you not see?”

“I saw … ” I pointed at my cheek.

Jinna took the mirror and turned it over, showing me the back of the wooden casing. Carved in lines almost as delicate as those on my face was another Etosian knot.

“Thank you,” I whispered hoarsely as she gathered me into a hug.

Lathan was always considered odd. When he was young, his brothers and sisters delighted in teasing him, for he was a serious child who took things much to heart. To protect himself, he took, from a very early age, to spending his time alone, hiding in the deeps of the forest, learning the ways of the trees and the woodland creatures and immersing himself in nature lore.

All on his own, though some say it was with the help of the spirits of the trees, Lathan mastered the danse.

One day, as he dansed alone, a mighty sage discovered him. Soron watched from the shadows as Lathan spun around the glade, filling himself with power.

When the danse was done, Soron stepped carefully from his hiding place, not wanting to frighten the young lad, for well he knew what could happen if one newly filled with that sort of power were to be startled. He allowed a twig to snap underfoot, then a few leaves to shuffle.

Lathan looked up at the sounds, and when their gaze met, their future was sealed.

Lathan needed no convincing to leave his life behind and go with Soron to his home far away in the mountains. And though Lathan’s mother was sad for a short time that he had gone missing, greater was her relief at the removal of the burden that had been her youngest son. If any thought ill of her for not loving Lathan enough to seek him, none spoke it aloud, for all had thought him a tiresome and tedious young man.

As the years passed, Lathan learned much from Soron. Together they grew in power and might. Soron introduced Lathan to the sages at Delaron, who were impressed with the young sage’s knowledge and skill.

Lathan valued his welcome amongst the sage community, grateful to be accepted there. Yet he found that he preferred the company of the great red dragons to that of the humans. He formed an especially strong attachment with Anyar.

As the years passed, Anyar often flew to Lathan and Soron in their mountain home. He would fly them back to Delaron several times a year, especially for the Summer and Winter Solstice celebrations, making it possible for them to visit the sages far more than they could otherwise have done.

But Soron was much older than Lathan, and even love cannot bind a soul to the flesh forever.

At Soron’s passing, so deep was Lathan’s grief that Anyar felt it from afar and sped to his friend’s side.

As Soron’s body burned on its pyre, Lathan performed the ritual Death Danse. Then he gathered up the remains and, borne aloft on Anyar, scattered them to the four winds.

And neither Lathan nor Anyar was seen again on Stychs.

~from the teachings of Gedden, lore master

As the days went by, Xyla got better little by little, improving every day, and I hoped she would soon be able to fly.

Grey and Shandry moved to her cottage a few days after I arrived. As long as they were out of sight, they were mostly out of mind. At first, my heart ached whenever I thought about them, but after awhile, I became adept at steering my thoughts into a different direction.

About a week after we arrived in the mountains, I sat in one of the other caves watching Lini teach Traz danse moves. He was a quick study—even I could tell that. And although I’d never have admitted it, not even to Traz, I liked practicing the steps myself when no one was around.

The morning’s session had been particularly energetic, and when they stopped for a rest, Lini said the next part of the lesson needed to be private. I took the hint and headed back to the main cave.

The sun shone down bright and warm as I walked along. Birds called to one another, surely as glad of the arrival of Spring as I was.

As I approached, a dragon landed in the clearing before the cave. By now I’d gotten used to the easy way the sages leapt on and off the giant beasts, but something about the manner of this young man struck me as urgent. He raced into the cave shouting for Botellin. Ever sensitive to people’s moods and vibrations, I instantly knew that something was wrong.

A moment later, Botellin’s voice boomed. “What do you mean he’s escaped?”

My heart plummeted. I hadn’t quite reached the entrance to the cave yet, and I shrank back against the rock wall. Eavesdropping was bad form, but I wanted to know what was happening.

“We’ve searched everywhere,” the messenger said. “None of the dragons could find any trace of him for miles and miles—a lot farther than he could’ve traveled in a week, even on horseback.”

“Was not the castle watched?” Rage boiled out of the cave riding on Botellin’s words. And I knew that there was only one person he could be talking about: Rennirt.

“Yes, sir. Night and day, just as you ordered.”

There was a long pause during which I could picture Botellin pacing around the fire.

“Very well,” he finally said, and now his voice was more like normal. “Keep up the search. Let me know if you find anything.”

“Yes, sir. Any word for Halla before I return?”

“Indeed. Give her all my love.” I gasped aloud at that. “And tell her Donavah is recovering even better than she could’ve wished.”

I stayed where I was, unmoving, hoping that the messenger sage wouldn’t notice me—and that the dragon wouldn’t think to mention I’d been standing there listening.

The young man mounted the dragon, who immediately took off, and I watched them disappear.

Rennirt was on the loose. Free, to do whatever he wished. To track me down. Where could I hide? Was there anywhere he couldn’t find me? Panic took my breath away. He could be here right now, hiding in the trees, watching me.

Of their own volition, my feet took off running straight to the only place I knew I would be safe: to Xyla’s side.

Botellin, lost in thought, stared into the fire, a frown creasing his forehead. He didn’t even seem to notice my arrival at first. I ran to Xyla, who lay sleeping. I leaned against her, taking deep breaths to try to calm myself.

It didn’t work. The dragon opened an eye.

“What has happened, Donavah?” she asked, alarmed.

My tears flowed freely, even as I wished them away. “He’s coming after me. He’s going to find me.” I touched my left cheek. As if the thought of him were enough, the mark began to grow warm. Or was it just my imagination?

Botellin’s head jerked up and he looked over at me, then let out a groan and seemed to shrink a little. He came over to me and put his hands on my shoulders.

“You were the last one I wanted to know, and here I find you’re the first.”

“He’s coming for me, isn’t he?”

“No. No, he’s not.” He gave me a tiny shake to emphasize his words. “He’s trying to escape my wrath.”

“And he’s succeeded!”

“He has, perhaps, succeeded for a time, but I shall find him, wherever he is, whatever hole he’s found to hide in. It’s not in his nature to stay hidden for long. It’s nothing for you to worry about.”

I wiped my tears away. “That’s easy for you to say.”

The sage nodded. “You’re right, it is. And hard for you to believe. I understand.” He put an arm around my shoulder and guided me to the fire. We sat side by side in silence for a few minutes.

“Donavah,” Botellin finally said, “you cannot let fear rule your life. If you do, he wins. Not because of this,” and he caressed my cheek with a warm hand. “This is something physical that has no power to control you. But fear … fear can control you all too easily.”

And that was something he was right about. For many days, I didn’t leave the cave much, and when I did, I didn’t go far—or alone.

As Xyla grew stronger, I grew weaker—not in body, but in spirit. It was all I could do to make myself meditate twice a day, and remembering how I’d met Rennirt’s spirit during that meditation session kept me from having much success.

Staying in the cave all the time meant I no longer got to watch Traz’s danse lessons. I missed it a little, but he spent every afternoon showing me what he’d learned in the morning.

On the other hand, it meant I also learned things I might otherwise not have. Botellin, I discovered, met with the other sages every day. Much of the discussion was about Xyla’s health, but one day, they started talking about plans for our return to Hedra.

My heart perked up at this news. Of course, the thought of returning in the midst of the dragonmasters’ attack wasn’t exactly pleasant, but somehow, it seemed preferable to meeting up with Rennirt again face-to-face.

And then, one day Botellin asked me to come speak with him. There was something about his air that put me on my guard, as if he had bad news.

“Well, we have come to the point,” he said, and his green eyes glittered as he looked at me. The corners of his mouth twitched, as if he were holding back a smile. “The dragons have decided to return to Hedra with Xyla.”

“What?” I exclaimed. “Go back with us to Hedra?”

“Come now, Donavah. You can hardly be so surprised.”

Xyla spoke to me before I could utter another word. “What do you think all this was about, if not to fulfill the ancient prophecy?”

“Well, yes, but … ” No clear thought formed in my head.

Botellin grinned down at me. “Do you not want them to go with you?”

“Well, of course. But how?”

“That is the question.”

When he didn’t say more, I replied, “And what is the answer?”

He rose to his feet. “Come, walk with me.”

I eyed the entrance to the cave. It would be nice to spend more than a few minutes out in the fresh air. Surely no harm would come to me if I were with Botellin. I stood up.

The sage smiled. “It’s much too beautiful to stay inside, and I know of a wondrous place you might not have discovered yet. I want to try an experiment, if you’re willing.”

We took the main path, the one that led to the road. We hadn’t gone far, though, when we reached a place where the undergrowth was especially thick. Botellin turned aside here. We pushed our way through the shrubs and low-hanging branches. It was hard going. Soon, sweat trickled down my face.

As we went in farther, the undergrowth began to thin a little. Botellin seemed to know exactly where he was going, although there was no discernible path that I could see.

I began to sense an unusual vibration. It was organic yet inanimate. It didn’t feel threatening, but its unfamiliarity set me a little on edge. Then we stepped into a clearing, the morning sun filtering through the trees and shedding a dappled green light onto the source of the strange vibration: a stone circle.

The stones were bluish-green, uniform in size, shape, and color. They stood about six feet tall, and the upper third of each one had been carved with designs of interlocking circles and squares. They were ancient now, and the carvings had worn with age and weather, but the designs were deep, and it would take many ages yet for them to wear entirely away.

Stepping inside the circle was like falling into a cloud. Things beyond the stones looked fuzzy, and my balance faltered a little. The stones themselves seemed to be buzzing, and if I listened carefully, I could almost make out the words of a song.

I held out my arms and turned slowly in place for a moment, letting the vibrations center themselves on my soul.

“Hold a moment.” Botellin’s voice interrupted me.

I let my arms drop to my sides and faced him. “What experiment did you have in mind?” I asked.

“I would like to see what happens when we try to combine our powers—my danse and your maejic.”

This idea surprised me. “Sounds intriguing. What do we need to do?”

Botellin gave me a shy half-smile. “I’m not entirely sure. I thought this would be a good place to try, since nature’s own power is strong here, amplified and multiplied by the resonance of the stones.”

I nodded. I’d experienced the resonance of stone circles before.

“As we’ve discussed,” Botellin went on, “maejic is based on stillness and control, while danse’s foundation is motion and freedom. I have grown curious to know what will happen if we work the powers in tandem.”

“Oh!” I grinned at the master. What a wonderful idea! Even if nothing special happened, it would be fun to try. Suddenly, I felt as excited as I had when I was a child learning a new spell from our village magician.

“What do we need to do to begin?” I asked.

We stood for an awkward moment looking at one another. What, indeed? It was one of those things easier talked about than done. Botellin cleared his throat.

“I guess we must just do what’s natural.” He turned away from me, moving to the nearest stone. Then he started walking along the inside of the circle.

I concentrated on the cadence of his steps, listening to his footfalls when he was behind me and out of sight. When he came back into view, his arms had joined the danse. Without quite realizing I’d moved, I found myself in the exact center of the circle. I closed my eyes.

Power flowed and sparked in the ether and in the air. I stretched my arms out, drawing it into myself, filling my soul.

Now I could hear the song the stones sang, and Botellin’s dansing footsteps struck the counterpoint. My mind filled with swirling colors that pulsed and flashed to the beat.

Eyes still closed, I began to move. First, no more than swaying in rhythm, but soon spinning and leaping. Sometimes, my hands clasped with Botellin’s, as if the danse had been long rehearsed. On those occasions, the power swelled around us to a crescendo, and I breathed it deeply.

When I opened my eyes, I found the circle filled with a rainbow. Strands of colors arced off the standing stones, weaving an intricate pattern that glowed in the sunlight shining down from directly overhead.

Botellin and I kept dansing. In perfect unison, our bodies, minds, and spirits moved in the circle and in the power. Faster and faster we dansed around and across the circle. My feet hardly seemed to touch the ground. Lighter and lighter I grew, and then I was airborne.

I flew from stone to stone, touching each as I passed, and with each touch absorbing more power until there was no substance left to my body: all was color and light.