Sworn To Raise: Courtlight #1 (21 page)

A frown spread across the crone’s face, but she grudgingly nodded, “You’ve solved my riddle and passed this portion of the Mordair maze.”

As Ciardis prepared to race off, the woman halted her.

“One more thing, young woman: you’ll face two more challenges ahead. But I believe you have something in your bag that’s mine.” she said.

“What would that be?” Ciardis asked.

The woman held out her hand and rubbed the tips of her fingers together in the universal sign for money. Ciardis couldn’t believe her gall, but she supposed that was what the gold dust was for.

As she raced off with her pack two items lighter, she heard the old crone’s cackle echoing through the maze behind her.

As the figure flew closer and the red hair whipping behind her became visible, Ciardis could tell that it was definitely the spitfire from the Winged Isles. But something was wrong. Ciardis stared up intently.
Why is she flying so low?
Samantha’s pattern was erratic, and she was coming in too forcefully—far too fast to manage a graceful landing. Ciardis rapidly backed away in order to clear space in the corridor.

Samantha managed to right herself enough that she could land vertically but even Ciardis could see she was out of breath and looked exhausted. She hunched over, hands on her knees, as she tried to catch her breath. “Hey, relax,” said Ciardis as she approached the wheezing girl. She gave Sam her bottle of water, hoping it would help.

Raising her head Samantha gave Ciardis a tired smile as she drank some of the water.

“My mage core depleted more rapidly than it ever has,” Samantha explained, “I’ve never needed to use so much magic to fly such a short distance before. I’ve have had to stop every few minutes in the maze to regain a little strength.”

She ruffled her wings in the same way a human shake their shoulders to brush off a weird feeling, “There’s some bad things in this maze. Once I barely escape from a chimera hiding in the shadows.” Samantha rubbed her stiff shoulders, wincing.

“Think you can make a fewer more miles?” Ciardis asked, “The maze end can’t be too far off.”

“I could but it’ll take too long - my wind strength and flight ability are tied to my mage power. The stronger my reserve of power, the higher, the longer, and the faster I can fly,” Samantha explained.

Ciardis took a swig of water herself. “Tell you what: I’ll help you fly, and you can get us to the end of the maze.”

Samantha eyed her curiously. “What do you mean?”

“I mean if you can carry me, I can give you the mage power necessary to fly us both. That’s my talent: I enhance other mage talents.”

Samantha decided that at this point, she didn’t have much to lose. “All right, let’s do this,” Samantha said. “You’re as tall as I am, so carrying you in my arms is out. You’ll have to hop on my back.” At Ciardis’s raised eyebrow, Samantha said, “It’ll be an awkward flight, but it’s the only way it’s work – unless you have an expanding basket in your backpack
and
can enhance without physical contact.”

That’s an interesting point. Could I enhance a mage’s abilities without touching them? I was holding hands with both General Barnaren and Sebastian when I enhanced them. I’ll have to test it out later.

Not wasting any more time, Samantha squatted down and Ciardis hopped onto her back. Ciardis felt Samantha’s lagging flight power through her skin and immediately tapped into her own well of power to boost it. Just before they lifted off, Ciardis said, “Let’s not ever mention this to anyone, agreed?”

Samantha quickly said, “Agreed.”

Then they raced into the sky, Ciardis’s power giving Samantha the push she needed to fly strong. They quickly spotted the end of the maze and headed toward the clearing with the glowing orbs in the center.

When they were within a few dozen feet of the maze’s exit, a beam of light shot out of the ground and struck Sam in the chest. They tumbled toward the ground, screaming. Ciardis’s heart was in her throat—and her stomach wasn’t far behind—as she imagined broken bones and torn skin when their bodies smashed into the ground.

But fifty feet from the ground, they began to slow; air was funneling under them and cushioning their fall. The wind power wasn’t coming from either girl. In fact it seemed to emanate from the maze itself. Their descent wasn’t as hectic as before, but it was still fast. They landed with a dizzying
thump
. Ciardis checked her body for injuries, but noted no broken bones. She reached over to Samantha, who lay curled on the ground almost as if she were sleeping.

Ciardis leaned over her friend and tried shaking her awake. A quick glance didn’t reveal any bones sticking out at odd angles; there was no blood pooling under her body, and even her wings were their normal shape.

Samantha awoke. “Wha’ happened?” she muttered groggily, clutching her head in her hands as she struggled to a sitting position.

“Don’t know. A beam of light shot up from the ground and hit you. When it did, we went down. But something caught us before we hit the ground too hard.”

“Dammit,” cursed Samantha. “Guess it couldn’t be that easy, could it?”

“At least we’re closer to the end than when we started.”

“True.”

They stood up and immediately Samantha crumbled back to the ground clutching her waist. She was cursing so much Ciardis couldn’t understand what was wrong.

“God, my ribs,” Samantha said. Kneeling next to her Ciardis hovered helplessly.

“What do you want me to do?”

“I don’t know,” said Sam, “It hurts to breathe. I need a medic. You’d better go.”

“But –” Ciardis said.

“There’s no reason for
both
of us to get caught,” Sam said.

They were both aware of the unspoken rule that companion trainees should do no more than what was necessary to help each other, and they were never to team up for
any reason.

Ciardis looked around - she couldn’t see the end of the maze but knew they were close.
Close enough to help Sam hobble to the end?
She didn’t think so. To top it off Ciardis’s left leg was stiff from the fall, and every time she stretched it, she felt a pain in her upper muscle.

Grimacing, she massaged her thigh; she guessed that she’d probably pulled the muscle.

Samantha saw the pained expression, “Enough. Just go – I’m calling in help.” Ciardis nodded and hobbled towards an opening in the maze wall. It’d be best to get into the shadows of it’s overhang before help arrived. She turned back for a few seconds to see Samantha touching the yellow boot on her foot in a summons for aid.

That short flight bought me the time I needed
.
If I’m correct, I just need to make two lefts and a right and I’ll be through the maze.

She hobbled forward, but sighed in irritation when she reached the first corner. Before her was a dark pond that filled the entire maze corridor. She briefly considered turning back, but knew that this was the fastest - and perhaps the only
way - for her to get through.

She also knew that there was probably something nasty in or around the pond.

She tested the water and immediately determined that the depth was substantially greater than she’d first thought. Crouching down, she noticed an inscription in the mud beside the pond water.

A mirage is only as real you make it.

In thought, she flicked her eyes back over the depths. Could it all be a mirage? Taking a hesitant step forward and telling herself firmly that the water was just a hallucination of her imagination, she planted a purple boot in the loose mud of the pond. She drew back hastily as she felt water raise up her foot. For a few seconds the sucking mud had felt like it was trying to drag her down. Scrambling further back from the edge, she tried to decide what to do next.

Maybe the knapsack contains the key,
she thought.
Rummaging through it, she found that besides the water bottle, she only had the notebook left. Somehow, it would have to do. Opening it, she leafed through the pages, looking for a clue. Nothing appeared on the ruled leaves…and then, as she prepared to close the book, a glint flashed in her eyes. She stared down at the notebook, more intensely this time.

It was as if magic were coruscating off the page.

Now, there was an intriguing thought.
Could the notebook be imbued with magic, perhaps even a casting spell of some kind, like a Residual Magic object?
She thought fleetingly of her—well, Sebastian’s—anklet. Removing the built-in stylus from the notebook’s spine, she began drawing on the flickering page, first sketching the pond and then the maze hedges surrounding it. She looked up hopefully, but nothing had happened. On a whim, she drew a small tree, and gasped in awe as a replica appeared in the corresponding spot on the other side of the pond in front of her.

Biting her lip and concentrating, she began to draw stepping-stones across the pond’s surface. She wasn’t much of an artist, but stepping-stones were easier to draw than a bridge. As quickly as she drew them, they appeared. Ciardis stepped lightly onto the stone nearest her; it held, so she raced across the pond, drawing more and more stones until she reached the far edge.

Sighing in relief, she turned back to face the pond. After staring at it for a long moment, she decided to leave the notebook at the water’s lapping edge as a tribute, just as the rope and gold dust had been. Just before she set the notebook down, writing appeared on the page in a heavy script.

Excellently done, Ciardis. Your imaginative solution has served you well. Proceed.

She turned and hobbled as fast as she could down the maze corridor. As she rounded the second to last corner, she slowed, thinking unhappily,
Running across that pond did my leg no good
. She hoped a healer would be waiting for the contestants at the maze’s end.

For the next few minutes, she encountered nothing—and then she saw it. The exit stood at the end of the corridor, and beyond that, her purple orb hovered in the center of the clearing. She hurried forward, and as she reached the landing just before the outer doorway, a shape appeared out of thin air.
Rats
, she thought,
I’d hoped I’d skipped over a task by riding on Samantha’s back. If I had the deep pond would have been my last obstacle. Apparently not.

She came to a halt before the figure. It had no face, and was cloaked head to foot in a metallic golden robe that rippled in the moonlight. “Ciardis Vane,” it said in a sonorous voice, “You wish to be acknowledged as a Weathervane—a mage of immense Innate Magic—and a Companion—one who has the potential to shatter the Imperial Court.”

Ciardis paled. “I—”

“I am the Oracle,” it said. “I do not state opinions, merely facts.”

“Yes sir,” she said quietly.

“I am neither sir nor ma’am to you,” it corrected. “I will ask you a question, and you will answer honestly. You stand on an abandoned road, alone, and miles from the nearest village. A child approaches you, one without magic. He has been maimed; he only has one arm. He says he has been expelled from his home and his village. The village headman says he is useless and should die on the road. What would you say?”

Ciardis lifted her head and said fiercely, “No one is useless—
no one.
There will always be a task, a skill, a gift that the boy has which no one else can do. I would tell the boy this, then offer him anything I had to ease his way including coins, food and a warm hearth to lay down beside.”

The oracle continued without acknowledging her response. “Two days later, the boy steals your purse. He holds a knife to your throat and you see fear cloud his eyes. He says, ‘I can’t trust you. I can’t trust anyone. I’m sorry.’ He leaves with your valuables. What would you say to him if you could?”

Her voice steady, Ciardis said, “I would wish him well on his journey, because nothing in that pack is worth his life or mine. I would tell him to drink the water sparingly, because the next village is miles away and the dry heat will leave him parched.”

For a full minute, the oracle said nothing. Then it stated, “Very well, Ciardis Weathervane. You have passed. Proceed.”