Spellwright Part 37

He was still spellbound.

Worse, the censoring text locked around his mind kept him from seeing magical language and made the resulting blackness seem to spin. He was truly blind now.

The cry came again. Moving more slowly, Shannon put his legs over the side of the bed and arranged his robes. He would face the end with dignity.

A thud sounded from the direction of the door. He did not flinch. The thud came again, accompanied by the crack of breaking Magnus sentences.

Shannon straightened his dreadlocks, smoothed his beard. Another thud and the door gave way with a metallic squeal.

Silence, then the clicking of leather boot heels on stone.

"Rash of you to come in your true body," Shannon said as calmly as he could. "The sentinels will know of your existence after you kill me."

"Kill you?" Fellwroth asked with amus.e.m.e.nt. Something stirred the air beside Shannon. "Nothing so simple, Magister. Come."

Suddenly Shannon was on his feet, hands stretched out before him as Fellwroth pulled him along by his chains.

"I'm no use to you," Shannon called. "The boy's gone. You'll never find out who he is now that-"

"Nicodemus Weal is in the forest south of here," Fellwroth rasped. "Yes, I know his name. And, yes, I could flush him out of hiding. But at best that would start a time-consuming chase; at worst, it would kill the whelp." They were hurrying down a long hallway. "You will carry a message to him."

They turned and suddenly Shannon was stumbling up stairs. "I don't know how to find him," the old wizard said, fighting the dizziness caused by the censoring text.

"Magister, you're a miserable liar," Fellwroth rasped. "I'm going to release you, and you're going to carry my message to the boy."

Shannon shook his head. "Even if I could find him, I would never do so." The stairs ended and again Shannon was walking down a hallway.

Fellwroth snorted. "You insult my understanding of human motivation. I know you'd never go to him if I tracked you. I will not follow. Double back five times over. Romp around in the forests all night looking for a subtextual tracker. You'll find nothing. When you're satisfied, take my message to the boy."

Cold wind blew across Shannon's face. They had left the hallway and were walking in the open air.

"The end game begins," Fellwroth croaked. "It doesn't matter that the sentinels know of me. We play on a field outside of Starhaven now. Should the wizards catch Nicodemus and bring him back here, I would have no trouble pulling him from their prisons. In fact, that's my message to the boy: you and he are to return to Starhaven and place yourselves in the sentinels' custody. I will use a sand golem to retrieve both of you the instant the black-robes have you."

"What makes you think we would do such a thing?"

Fellwroth's footsteps began to produce wooden thuds. Shannon frowned. Could they be walking across the drawbridge?

"You can't feel it yet, Magister," Fellwroth hissed, "but I have laced the muscles around your stomach with a Language Prime curse named canker. It forces the muscles to forge dangerous amounts of text. But I've edited this version to slow its progress. I call it logorrhea. It won't kill you in an hour or even a day. It will grow stronger and stronger until it bursts your stomach. If fortunate, you'll succ.u.mb to fever. If unlucky, you will digest your own entrails."

Shannon could hear the wind rushing through the trees. Somehow they were on the dirt road outside Starhaven. What had happened to the guards?

"I will die screaming before I see Nicodemus submit to you," Shannon growled.

"Tell the boy that only the Emerald of Arahest can cure the canker growing in your gut."

"I'll tell him to run as fast as he can."

Fellwroth grunted. "If the boy runs, I will find him or he will die." The monster pulled him hard to the right.

Shannon's boots left the dirt road and began to swish though knee-high gra.s.s.

"Tell Nicodemus that if he submits to me, I will grant him partial use of the emerald. Tell him I will cure your canker."

Shannon shook his head. "You're a fool."

The footsteps in front of him stopped. "Twenty paces ahead is a meadow where a horse is tethered to a low branch. I've spellbound your blue parrot to your saddle."

"Azure," Shannon said involuntarily.

Fellwroth laughed. "The sentinels had caged the bird in the stables with childish prose. Now go and tell the whelp what I have told you."

"I'll never-"

Two cold hands yanked Shannon forward by the wrists and peeled the fetters from his arms and legs. The old wizard gasped as the hands tore the censoring text from his head. His mind, restored to magic, reeled with shock. It felt as if icy needles were sc.r.a.ping across every inch of his skin.

"Tell the boy!" Fellwroth snarled, giving Shannon a shove.

The old wizard stumbled backward. His foot caught and he fell onto his back.

The only sound was that of footfalls on pine needles.

"I'll die before I tell him!" Shannon shouted after the monster.

No reply.

"IT'S JUST IN here," the elderly sentinel said. here," the elderly sentinel said.

Amadi was standing in the hallway of a small storage tower. Outside the evening sky was bruising purple.

The gray-haired woman standing before Amadi was a Starhaven sentinel, not one of her trusted Astroph.e.l.l authors. "Magistra," Amadi said, "I haven't much time. The provost has demanded I prepare a report-"

"One of my younger riders found it on the road up from Gray's Crossing," the woman interrupted. "It was in the ditch, so it's not surprising no one else saw it. Unfortunately, when the rider reported it, the guards didn't believe him." The old woman cast a short Numinous pa.s.sword into the door before her.

A frown creased Amadi's brow. "Didn't believe him about what?"

The old sentinel shook her head. "Best if I show you. I put it in here to prevent rumors."

They walked into a room lit by candles. A young male lesser wizard was staring wide-eyed at something large and dark on the floor.

At first Amadi thought the object was a body. It was lying stomach down. Its left arm had been melted into a thin rod. Small pools of metallic blood had frozen around the thing's shoulder and chest.

"Los in h.e.l.l!" Amadi approached it. The thing's face was human but for the rectangular window opening into its brow. She bent closer. The head was hollow.

"Pure iron," the woman behind her said. "Took two wizards and a mule-drawn cart to haul it up here."

"Shannon, it seems I owe you an apology," Amadi murmured. "Monsters made of clay and metal."

"Magistra Okeke!" Amadi turned back to the door. "Magistra!" It was Kale.

Amadi groaned. "Every time I see you, Kale, I get more horrible news. So before you tell me something else, let's take care of this." She nodded to the iron carca.s.s. "I need three trusted sentinels to carry it up to the provost's grand hall. And I want Shannon awake and ready to answer more questions."

"That's just it," Kale panted. "Shannon's gone."

"Gone?"

"Someone took him. The guard is dead. The text about the cell was disspelled and the door was knocked down from the outside."

Amadi's mind came alive with questions. Who would want to take Shannon from her? The golem monster? How was she going to explain this to the provost? "Do we know where his captor took him? What direction they went?"

Again Kale nodded. "Out the front gate."

"How is that possible?" the gray-haired sentinel asked. "The front gate is too well guarded."

Kale's frightened eyes turned to the woman. "Many sentinels and guards were wounded fighting the bookworm infestation. The rest were spread out across the stronghold, searching for Nicodemus. There were no guards in the gate house and only two before the drawbridge. Both are dead."

"Raise the alarm," Amadi commanded. "Call the searchers up from Gray's Crossing and in from the forests. No one is to leave Starhaven's occupied towers and halls. And see that the slain guards are prepared for a proper burial."

Kale nodded.

"And tell the digger to make another grave," Amadi added. "After I tell all this to the provost, you'll have to put me in it."

CHAPTER Thirty-eight

Raindrops cut icy flecks of life into Deirdre's wind-numbed face. Billowing clouds blanketed the sky save for a few rents that poured city-sized sun-beams onto the Highlands.

Deirdre was laughing as she galloped down the Highridge Road. To either side, the mountains dropped into deep valleys. Some dells were criss-crossed with stone walls and speckled with Highland sheep. Ravens there were too, clouds of them flapping through the dark sky or filling the few trees like a harvest of noisy, black-feathered fruit.

Topping the next ridge, Deirdre looked down the road to the watchtowers guarding the entrance to Glengorm: one of her clan's fortified homesteads.

As she galloped, sunlight swept across the road and glinted on her armor. The guards cheered as she tore through the open gates.

Down into the glen she flew, barely noticing the fortified houses or the wooden barricades meant to keep livestock in and lycanthropes out. At the bottom of the glen lay a narrow lake. A small stone fort stood on a jetty that extended into the gray water.

Deirdre did not rein in her mare until she was in the fort's stable yard. Her clansmen in the stalls shouted joyously. Others appeared at the windows.

Deirdre swung down and threw her reins to the nearest boy. "Treat her well," she said through a wry smile. "She's had a bit of a run."

The men within earshot laughed at her understatement.

She raised a fist and yelled, "The White Fox has escaped to Dral! Confusion to the Lornish Crown!" The men echoed her cry at near deafening volume.

She led another cheer and then hurried into the fort and up three flights of narrow wooden stairs. When she pushed the door open, Kyran was pacing by the window.

His limp was less p.r.o.nounced now, but still he favored his left leg, probably would for the rest of his life. His long hair hung across his shoulders in a golden curtain.

Her wry smile renewed itself. "Only half a year ago Paladin Garwyn nearly cut that limb off." She nodded to his bandaged right leg. "Perhaps you shouldn't be troubling it so."

Kyran turned around, his brown eyes alight with expectation. "Great Soul," he said, sinking to his left knee.

She closed the door and went to him. His freshly shaven face turned up toward her. The scar below his ear was little more than a red line now. "My cousin?" he asked. "Did he make it safely to Dral?"

Deirdre suppressed a laugh. "Always so serious, Kyran. The White Fox runs in feral woods tonight. A fist of rangers met us at the river. If they can avoid the lycanthropes, they shall reach Kerreac in less than a fortnight."

Relief drew Kyran's thin lips into a dimpled smile. He took her hand and bent over it. "I swear on Bridget's name that you have my undying love."

His touch made Deirdre's head feel as light as smoke.

There was nothing to indicate it, but she knew that he had meant "you" to be plural, to include her G.o.ddess. Her hands trembled as she turned his chin up. "And you shall have ours."

He stood and pressed his lips to hers. Her heart throbbed to an irregular rhythm. She felt as if she were having an aura.

She had thought of this for so long, known how forbidden it was. "From the first," he whispered, "I loved you always."

Laughing, she pulled him closer and stopped his words with her tongue.

She could tell by his kiss that this time he had meant the word "you" to be singular; his love was for her only.

His arms closed around her.

"Do you love me still?" she murmured into his neck. "Love me only?"

"Yes." His voice the briefest susurration by her ear. "I loved you always; I love you still."

Her face tingled with warmth as she pulled back far enough to kiss him again.

Slowly the world tilted so that they lay facing each other. The room dimmed. Her hands trembled badly. His face lost its bristles and became as smooth as a boy's. His long golden hair, flowing all about them, darkened until it was as black as her own. Her hands clenched as an ecstatic warmth flushed down her back. Silently, she prayed she would not fall into a seizure now.

Her lover's eyes lightened from dark brown to deep green. They were not Kyran's eyes.

She was not falling into a seizure but waking from one.

Kyran was dead.

With a shriek, she threw out her arms and turned away from Nicodemus.