Analindë (The Chronicles of Lóresse) (50 page)

By the time Andulmaion had followed her to the library Analindë was seated at the table making a list, the blue bound book at her side. She looked up and waved, beckoning him closer.

“Andulmaion, you worry over much. And although it stings just a little, I’m fine and will recover quickly.” She rubbed her arm in thought, then grinned. “There are things to be done. I need to study the transportation spell a little bit longer; would you mind fetching provisions for us?” She had the steps of the spell committed to memory already, but millions of things could potentially go wrong. She needed time to read the rest of the book and then ponder what she’d learned, looking for holes or misunderstandings that could possibly trip her up.

He sat upon the desk, looking stricken. “Analindë, how can you forgive me so easily? For the all the Stars I’d never hurt you, but yet I let it happen.”

“It was my fault entirely.” She looked up at him. “I foolishly put myself between your weapon and what it wanted.” She paused, then said. “It kind of has a will of its own, doesn’t it? That makes it quite effective and formidable. You should be happy.” He blanched. She set her pen down and leaned forward. “If I were the human, I’d be afraid . . . ” She sat back and looked up at him. It was best to not let him dwell on the situation, so she pushed him toward a different topic of conversation. “Now, what plan of attack do you suggest we take?”

He let himself be pushed. “If you can transport us, then shield the group once we get there. I’ll cast my spell and reinforce your shielding. But as you suggested earlier, we need a warrior who can help us kill the Humans.” He stood abruptly and began to pace.

Could she do it? She wondered, thinking of the transportation spell.

“It’ll take all my strength to control the spell once it gets larger. And you haven’t yet begun to learn offensive spells.”

“Do you know someone that we can trust with this?”

“No one here that I know of.” He stood up to pace the room. “At least none that are good enough, and who also wouldn’t directly turn around and tell the Council of High Mages what we plan to do.” He pressed his fingertips against his temples, then dropped his hands. “I can think of no one, and you?” He stopped his pacing to study her.

“There is one who may help us, but it would require me to use the transportation spell twice. I believe I may be able to do it.” The jumping spell seemed straightforward enough; if she could manage to do it once she could definitely do it a second time. She sat forward in her chair leaning toward him. “In any case we can always rest for awhile before we make the second jump to the fortress.”

“And this person?” Reticence spun in his eyes.

“Arandur. I can guarantee that he’ll listen to us fairly. As to his decision, I know not what he’ll decide. One thing I do know . . . regardless of his decision, he’ll not betray us to any other.”

At Arandur’s name, some of the stars in Andulmaion’s eyes flickered out and dimmed while others brightened. She couldn’t read them before he turned away from her. “So be it. You’re sure you are able to attempt the jump?”

Determined, she said, “Yes. I can get us there; you can stop the wizard, and Arandur and his comrades can kill them.” Despite the sureness of her voice, doubt began to flicker within her. What if they all got stuck in the void?

“We’ll leave within the half hour. Do you know where the scouts are?”

“Yes, but Andulmaion. I was up all night scrying the Humans and your rest couldn’t have been pleasant, considering your vision. Could we perhaps rest here this evening and then start out tomorrow morning? Perhaps even in the afternoon?”

He looked heavenward as he exhaled roughly. “Analindë, I’m so sorry. How could I have forgotten. Of course we must rest here this evening. Let us plan on setting off tomorrow after lunch; that way we both can get a full night’s sleep and have more time to prepare before we depart tomorrow.

“That would work very well for me.”

He continued. “Good. Then recharge your energies from the secret source you’ve found. You’ll need the strength. I’ll be back in a moment.”

He grabbed her list and was halfway down the tower steps before she could come up with a response. He couldn’t know about Mirëdell’s source, could he? But he did know that a source existed somewhere. His ease in mentioning it meant that Master Therin must have told him not to ask . . . either way, it was a good idea.

By the time Andulmaion returned with provisions, Analindë had refilled her energies from the school’s source and was back to studying the blue bound book. The book hummed more loudly now that her energies had been recharged and she wondered if Mirëdell’s source had changed her yet again or if she was more receptive to the flows of Energy because her own source was full. Perhaps it was both.

With urgent tasks at hand, the afternoon and evening passed by quickly. It wasn’t long before Analindë was tucked up in bed, bags packed at the door, with her drifting off to sleep.

Something was wrong. She could feel it in her bones. She thought she heard her mother calling but couldn’t catch her voice. She searched her entire home, the west wing, the workrooms, the garden outside and found nothing.

She was outside; a whirlwind roared at her, ripping trees up and tossing them to the side. A moment later it engulfed her.

Sound howled in her ears; she held her arms up to shelter her head as she ran for the safety of the kitchen. Things flew past her, hitting her, bruising her arms and legs. Scratching her face. Ripping her clothes. Exhausted, she wrestled the kitchen door shut as
quiet and calm enveloped her. The wind died down immediately. Trees, tools, and rocks dropped from the sky, thudding when they hit the ground.

And then everything was still.

Too still.

She panted at the door, trying to catch her breath, and peered out through the glass. The garden was a wreck. Father would be upset about the trees. Mother would not be too happy about the garden. Perhaps there was time left in the season to replant.

A harsh buzzing sound erupted from the corner of the kitchen; it hurt her ears. Shocked, she spun around, searching for the source. It was coming from a cupboard. It was grating; she clasped her hands to her ears. Coldness filled the room; her bones ached from the deep chill. Her heart turned leaden.

Against her will, her feet moved toward the other side of the kitchen. She couldn’t stop from treading closer or force herself to move back. Forward one step at a time she moved as the chilling cold enveloped her. Her breath came out in frozen puffs; the stone beneath her feet grew a thick layer of hoary frost, and then the stones themselves began to crumble and fall away. The hairs on her arms stood on end in painful prickles, her neck was stiff. She couldn’t look away. And yet the buzzing continued on, growing ever more ominous the closer she got.

And then she was reaching for the cupboard in the corner of the room, unlatching the door; it swung open. She recoiled. An entire copper sheet covered the interior. Inside she was screaming; she couldn’t stop herself. Her hand reached out to touch the board and painful, crackling Energy zapped up her arm from the copper sheeting.

We’re alive!

The words were hammered into place.

She awoke screaming, and then she was in her bed. And then Andulmaion was there saying soothing sounds, patting her on the back as she cried. She was mortified, absolutely mortified. And shaken. She hadn’t had a dream that vivid in a long while. Laerwen’s tea had obviously stopped working.

And then she was sitting on her couch and Andulmaion was pacing her room. He was unsettled; she couldn’t read the stars in his eyes. She tugged her dressing gown tighter and sipped at the cup of tea he’d foisted on her. It hurt to swallow.

He kept casting her glances that made her uneasy. Questions swirled in his eyes, rightfully so. Perhaps today was not the best day to attempt the jump. But then she thought of the Human wizard; it was dangerous to wait much longer. She watched Andulmaion’s expression change; he straightened up, looking resolved to his course. He’d arrived at some conclusion or another. She prepared to have him question her ability to transport them, trying to think of reasons why she could still do it.

He sat down beside her and took her free hand in his. “Analindë, I think we need to sit down and have a long discussion about these dreams of yours.”

Surprised, she just stared at him. Those were not the words she had been expecting.

“Today we have other things that need doing. But when we get back I would like for you to tell me more about your nightmares.”

She nodded her head, dumbstruck.

He patted her on the hand, then rose. “Okay then, try to get some more rest. Since we’re up, why don’t we leave a little earlier than we planned. How about mid-morning?”

She nodded again. And then he was gone.

Analindë blinked in confusion. What had that been about? She drew in a breath, trying to clear her mind. But then she caught sight of her pack, sitting by the door, all ready to go. And then she found herself thinking about the transportation spell. And then she was fizzing with anticipated excitement; today they were going to try to jump, and later they would find the Humans.

She stood up and started getting ready for the day. Rest could wait for later.

She was wearing her cold weather traveling clothes. They would keep her warm and allow her the same freedom of movement that her scout’s clothing had. She had also re-scryed the location of the scouts so she knew where to transport them both. She’d found a spot—in front of the scouts—on the trail that felt like it was a good place to land. Had Andulmaion asked, she would have been hard pressed to describe how she’d chosen the spot other than to say that the little plot of ground felt right.

He took one look at her travel wear and the trousers she wore and said, “Good,” then headed to his room to change and pack.

Analindë made traveling tea and checked the straps on her small pack three or four times before it finished steeping. The bitter-sweet tea smelled like grass. It wasn’t one of her favorites, but they’d need the strength, so she drank a cup, then poured another.

She looked down at her hands to find that she had yanked the ring off her finger so many times that her finger was red and swollen. She shoved it back on, stood, and began to pace around the room.

What if she killed them both? She blanched, twisted the ring around her finger again, stopped, then ran through the steps of jumping for the thousandth time. Why did he put so much trust in her? She was new to all of this and was still growing into her abilities. She wasn’t her parents and hadn’t a fraction of their skill. What had she done?

Andulmaion re-entered the room carrying his pack and a sword she had only seen once before was strapped to his side. The guard and grip were inlaid with gold and a large green jewel was set into the pommel. The blade was functional, but every surface was filled with intricate patterns reminiscent of the tower shielding. Leaves, vines, and old elvish glyphs were tooled into the green leather running down the length of the sheathe. The sword was beautiful. It was deadly. It looked efficient. And she wondered what it would feel like to wield a sword like that. Catching afternoon sun, the stone in the hilt winked ominously at her as he re-sheathed the sword. She handed him a cup of tea. The sword slapped against his leg as he moved to sit. She shivered.