Wizard of the Grove (50 page)

“Mother, I . . .”

“Please,” Tayer pleaded, her eyes filling with tears. “Your brothers are too young and hurt too badly themselves to help. Your father is so alone now. If you should die in this place, I'm afraid he wouldn't survive the loss of us both. Go to him, please, prove to him you still love him. He took my death so hard.”

Death. Lord Death. Where the dead were, so was he.

And he wasn't.

Still speaking, the image of Tayer faded away.

Built on a memory,
Crystal realized as the mists cleared from her mind.
And as real as my memories are.
And hard on that thought came another.
I
would know if mother had died I would. We haven't grown apart. And father knows I love him.
She gained a new respect for Aryalan's powers then, for, even defeated, the trap left guilt behind to slow the intruder.

“No . . .”

Jago, his hands raised in supplication, backed toward the stairs. His
eyes were fogged and the expression on his face was that of a man torn between duty and desire.

Gently, Crystal reached along the link they shared, found the place where Aryalan's power had lodged, and twisted Jago free. She caught just a glimpse of a brown-haired woman, weeping, and she touched betrayal.

Jago cried out, a strangled sound of loss and pain, and then his eyes began to focus. His hands fell to his sides and clenched into fists, the knuckles white against his tan.

“Not really there,” he said huskily. “I should've known.” He scrubbed the back of his wrist across his eyes. “A trap?”

“Yes.”

“Emotional blackmail?” At Crystal's nod, his mouth curved into something not quite a smile. “Nasty lady, Aryalan, glad I didn't know her when she was alive. Everybody's got something they . . .” He paled. “Oh, Chaos, Raulin.”

Raulin, who had served as a soldier with Kraydak's Horde.

Blood trickled down his chin from where he had bitten through his lip. His cheeks were wet with tears. Gray eyes stared at nothing visible, and, although his shoulder blades were hard against a wall, Raulin's feet kept moving, trying to back away.

“Raulin?” Crystal touched his arm. The muscles felt like rock. Without a ready pathway into Raulin's mind, she had to go slowly and carefully, balancing her need to get him free against the damage she could do if she hurried.

Gradually, she became aware of an unending parade of the dead. Not the dead as Lord Death presented them, ready to be received back into the arms of the Mother, but bodies, mortally wounded, risen up from their graves. Every one of them—men, women, and children—named Raulin their slayer, demanded justice, and advanced on him to claim it. And Raulin was almost at the point where their justice would be a small price to pay.

Crystal knew the focus had to be here, somewhere. Desperately, she searched among the bodies, trying not to acknowledge them as real in
any way lest Raulin's guilt absorb her as well. She could feel Raulin's will weaken with every second.

There!

A surge of power, green enveloped the dull red glow, and the victims of the Horde were gone.

Under Crystal's hand, Raulin's muscles went suddenly slack. He swayed, Jago grabbed him, and they both sagged to the floor. With Jago's arms tight around him and his head against his brother's chest, Raulin sobbed once, then lay shaking.

While Jago held him, Crystal stroked his back, her power smoothing away the sharp edges of his pain. She didn't care if her power attracted something. In fact, she hoped it would. The last time she'd wanted to hit back this badly, she'd leveled a mountain.

Finally, Raulin pushed himself up into a sitting position. He nodded at Jago, who looked relieved, and met Crystal's eyes.

“I never killed any children,” he said.

Crystal leaned forward and kissed him, putting all her trust and all her understanding into the action. When their lips parted, she murmured, “I know,” against his mouth. And he had to believe her where he might not have believed words alone.

The three of them stood together, Crystal positioned within the circle of Raulin's arms and both of them feeling better for the contact. Eyes were carefully averted from the shadows in the corners.

“Well?” Jago asked. “Do we go on?”

“Why not? It can't get any worse,” Raulin declared, but his usual jauntiness sounded forced.

Crystal didn't mention that it very well could. There didn't seem much point.

The door leading into the tower was locked.

Raulin eyed it speculatively, his color beginning to return. “Two traps tied to the lock that I can see. Figure on at least two more I can't. Jago?”

“Two anyway,” Jago agreed. “Well, I've got the steadier hand, so . . .” He slipped a small leather case out of his jacket pocket.

“You pick locks? Both of you?”

The brothers exchanged speaking glances.

“Growing up in the Empire,” Jago began.

“Gives you an excuse to develop a wide variety of skills,” Crystal finished, shaking her head. “But I'd rather neither of you risk this when there's a better way.” She reached up and pulled free a hair which changed to a slender silver rod in her hand.

“You're going to do it?”

“No. Tayja is.”

“The goddess?” Raulin's voice rose almost an octave. “Crystal, have you gone crazy.”

“I trust her, Raulin. She took control once before and gave it back.”

“I'd rather take my chances with the traps.”

“I'd rather you didn't!”

They glared at each other.

Jago cleared his throat. “If you're sure . . .”

Crystal tossed her head. “I'm sure.”

Raulin transferred his glare to Jago.

A surge of joy, that could have only come from the goddess, accompanied Tayja as she moved up from the depths of Crystal's mind.

Crystal watched as once again her hands took on a life of their own, manipulating the silver probe with amazing dexterity. This time, however, she wasted no energy fighting the possession. Raulin and Jago peered over her shoulders and counted off the traps.

“Four!” Raulin advanced on the door, hands raised.

“Wait.” Crystal's mouth formed the word, but it wasn't Crystal's voice. She shoved the probe into the lock and twisted it violently to the left. A sharp crack sounded deep inside the mechanism. “Five!” declared the same voice, smugly. “That is all of them and that one had to be last or it would set off all the others.”

Still under Tayja's control, Crystal's hands turned gracefully in the air.
You take a great chance allowing me this much freedom, child. The
long, pale fingers flexed.
I am a goddess, after all, and as proud and arrogant as my sisters.

But I know you,
Crystal reminded her.
And I know you are more honorable than some.

In her mind's eye, Crystal saw Tayja smile.
Yes,
she admitted.
More honorable than some.

As you come to know me, you better know a part of yourself.
But the words were so faint, Crystal couldn't be sure if they came from memory or if Tayja had actually said them as she retreated.

Then Crystal's hands were her own again. She stared down at them and frowned, remembering the goddess' joy as she rose to help. She'd felt it herself, back when Dorses had seen her power as a tool rather than an abomination to be feared. This was important; important to her perception of herself and her perception of the goddesses. She reached for the word that would pull it all together.

“She got them all.” Raulin pulled the door open a finger's width. Nothing; no steel plates, no poisoned darts, no cascade of acid, and nothing tried to get through the crack. “I'm impressed.”

Chaos!
Crystal swore. Raulin's voice drove the word she reached for from her mind.

“I think your goddess must've hung around with a number of less than holy characters.” Raulin readied to open the door wider. “She never learned how to pick locks like that in a temple.”

I taught how to pick locks in a temple.

Crystal laughed and passed on Tayja's message, ignoring Sholah's indignant,
You did nothing of the sort.

The door, when fully opened, revealed nothing more threatening than a long red and black expanse of corridor fanning to a half circle into which were set three more black lacquered doors.

“This wizard liked her doors small,” Jago observed. “Sokoji might have made it through this one, but she'd never have got through those.”

“Surely it's just the distance,” Raulin protested. “They can't be as narrow as they seem.”

“Well, there's only one way to find out.” Crystal lifted a foot to step over the threshold, but Raulin jerked her back.

“Not until we check the corridor for traps.” Only when he knew for certain that the first section was safe did he allow her to advance, followed closely by Jago.

Behind them, unseen, dull red runes crawled for an instant along the edges of the doorframe, then faded, leaving no sign of their existence.

They found no traps in the corridor.

“Maybe this is the easy part,” Raulin suggested as they reached the wider area and paused to study the three doors. Not only were they unlocked and un-trapped, but they had no locks to trap.

“Maybe.” Jago sounded dubious as he measured his shoulders against their width. “We'll have to go sideways to go through.”

“And which one do we go through?” Crystal wondered. “They're identical.”

Claws dragged against the marble floor. The prevailing smell of roses changed abruptly to rot.

As one, they turned.

The creature advancing toward them supported its weight on its knuckles as much as on its feet. Scimitar-shaped talons scraped as it swung each arm forward.

“Where did it come from?” Jago gasped.

“Does it matter?”

Their daggers looked pitifully small next to the creature's natural armament.

Its eyes showed black from lid to lid, it had no nose that they could see, and its mouth, a lipless gash across the width of its face, bristled with a double row of triangular teeth. No neck separated the head from the powerful torso.

Crystal threw up her hands. An arching green bolt struck the creature full in the barrel chest.

It hissed, staggered back a step, then continued forward, moving surprisingly quickly on its squat legs. It was on them before they had time to consider flight.

“Get in close!” Raulin yelled, dropping to avoid a wild swing.

Jago hit the floor and rolled. Talons gouged the marble near him.

Raulin grabbed an arm on its next attack—the gray skin felt like wet cork—and used the momentum to slam himself and his dagger point into the creature's body. He yanked the weapon free, raised it to strike again, and realized his first blow had left no wound.

“Chaos!”

The smell of rot grew overpowering and Raulin found himself staring between four rows of teeth.

Silver hair wrapped around his head and snatched him back just as the massive jaw crashed shut not a finger's width from the end of his nose. A blaze of green, bright enough to leave spots dancing before his eyes, slashed downward.

The creature screamed. A line opened along its jaw, oily black liquid beading the length.

Crystal appeared to be wielding a dagger formed of power.

“Got another one of those?” Raulin yelled, scrambling backward, slicing into a massive arm and again doing no damage. “Plain steel ain't worth spit!”

An elbow drove into Jago's stomach and slammed him up against a wall. He slid to the floor gasping for breath.

Throwing herself between Jago and the creature's next blow, Crystal caught a talon on the shaft of green she held. The talon smoked and snapped off. She reached behind her with her free hand and dragged Jago to his feet.

“Distract it!” she shouted. “Let me get close enough to use this.” A sword of power, she realized belatedly, would've been more practical. She tossed bands of green around the creature, slowing it by the smallest of margins.

Raulin and Jago agreed on strategy with a glance and raced to opposite walls of the corridor.

Crystal swung at the creature twice more.

“You're cutting it,” Raulin told her, panting. “But I don't think you're hurting it much.” The effort of keeping himself alive was beginning to tell. He'd taken only glancing blows so far and suspected a solid hit would break bones at the very least.

The creature ignored both its gaping wounds and the fluid dripping from them.

Rocking with the force of a blow that clipped his shoulder, Jago kicked with all his strength at the rear of a bony knee.

Taking advantage of the resulting lurch, Crystal opened a diagonal gash across its chest.

Free me,
Zarsheiy demanded.
Free me and it will burn!
The fire goddess beat at the barriers containing her.

Suddenly, the creature concentrated its attack on Crystal. Both huge, taloned hands reached for her, curved around the shield she threw up, and began to compress it.

The power dagger faded as Crystal reinforced the shield. It lasted maybe three heartbeats longer.

She heard Jago scream her name as she went down.

We're dead,
she thought, and prepared to pull power from the barriers.

Yes!
Zarsheiy shrieked.

“Mustn't, mustn't, mustn't!” caroled a high-pitched voice.

The sound of a strangely muffled explosion echoed off the walls of the corridor. Something wet dropped onto her cheek.

As she could feel her power repairing shattered ribs, she didn't try to move. Lying motionless hurt sufficiently.

An iridescent face poked into her field of vision. “Are you mashed?” it asked brightly. “Pulped? Crushed? Scrunched?”