Analindë (The Chronicles of Lóresse) (56 page)

He shuddered as he contemplated doing what she had done. «I’ll do it,» he muttered grimly.

Analindë felt her shields dissolving away as they spoke and peace filled her as she faced the end. If this was the way she was to die, then so be it.

The last bits of Energy flew from her; the red globe broke through and began directly feeding on Analindë herself, and she was glad, for it was not attacking the others. She threw a grateful gesture heavenward, for Sintriel’s battle shields yet held. Excruciating pain wracked her body as she felt her strength flow out of her. The power of the orb raced along her mage pathways, ravaging all that they could find. She found it interesting that the orb did indeed act, that it was not entirely passive in its collection efforts. She fell to her knees and curled into a ball. She closed her eyes and wished she’d been able to try once more. If only she’d had a little bit more power. And then she remembered.

The desert sands.

If you have the need, we will help you as you fight the threat.

Her eyes flicked open in surprise. All of her hurt, but it wasn’t as bad as it had been at the glacier lake; she could still think. Could she last long enough to be able to search? She scraped together a couple of sparks of power and then threw a tendril of thought down into the fortress below; only stone lay at her touch. Nothing answered. Pain made her mind numb to all else. It drove her on, desperately seeking aid. She plunged lower, calling for help as she went. Deeper and deeper until she reached far past where the fiery sands should have been and down into the molten rock that lay beneath.

«The sands said you would need help,» a woman’s voice spoke to her; it was a siren’s voice, as enticing and elusive as any flame ever was.

«Please, help,» was all that Analindë could manage. She was numb, filled with pain, and couldn’t even remember what she needed help with, except to make it all stop.

«They are rarely wrong, and here you are,» she chuckled.

«Please.»

«Since you are so polite . . . »

A power, hot and raw, flooded into her, filling her as none had before. The fire of the sands paled in comparison. Everything burned where it touched; she was molten lava and was capable of expending the explosive power that came with such strength and heat. And then she remembered.

Analindë hurtled back to her body and then climbed to her feet. Her shielding slammed up around the elves who were now groaning on the floor around her. Andulmaion fought his way to his feet beside her, a look of profound relief on his face.

“I am ready,” he said. “Can you box it in, force it smaller?”
Power roared though her. Oh course. It would be easy. The shields around them became fire and burned hotter and brighter than the brightest glow the ball could produce. It shrunk back as if to hide. Analindë’s shields flared even brighter and stronger. “Yes!” she gestured strongly, forcing the orb to shrink yet again. She felt invincible; nothing could stop her.

Andulmaion yelled something beside her and the red ball shrunk again. They worked in tandem, she pushing and him pulling, until the sphere finally flickered out, then disappeared. He sagged to his knees, breathing as if he had just run all the way here from the Mountain City itself without stopping. He panted, struggling to speak, but was unable to do so. She let her shields fall.

Arandur and Sintriel cheered, smiles wide across their faces. Analindë turned to them, grinning. “We did it! I can’t believe it.” She felt more alive than she ever had; power rippled through her with every movement, making her footsteps light and spry. She felt like dancing a jig across the sandy floor.

Instead, she scanned the hall; a book covered in green near the doorway caught her eye. “The wizard must have been studying this when we came.” She walked over and picked it up. It was bound in an emerald green leather, very familiar to her. It glittered in the late afternoon sun as if it was on fire. She chuckled, “I wonder if there are any more.” She said under her breath while she glanced around the doorframe, scanning the bookroom.

Dozens of books lay open, scattered all over the table and floor, but none of them glittered strangely like the one she’d picked up just right now. She tucked it in her pocket and returned to her comrades.

“What did you find Analindë?” Andulmaion finally managed to say.

“A book. I think I’ll keep it.” She patted her side pocket. The power within her crackled merrily as if satisfied; it flared briefly, then faded back to the earth deep below.

«Come see me if you come again.» The elusive voice echoed around the cavernous shell that Analindë had become.

As she crumpled to the floor, Analindë turned her sight inward to inspect the damage. The others cried out in alarm at the abrupt change that had overcome her. Arandur leapt toward her and attempted to soften her fall. Andulmaion cast around for any new sign of attack.

A panicky chortle welled up and bubbled out of her. Parts of her were singed, others were blistered, burnt, and raw. Everywhere Analindë looked she saw ravaged scorch marks; the scent of ashy charred places followed her. The scent? How could there be a scent inside of her? Analindë’s guffaws grew louder. She heard Andulmaion’s song move closer.

“Analindë. Tell me, what’s happened.”

She opened her eyes slowly and attempted to focus on his face but failed. She sensed him crouching near her. “Which type of elemental do you think that was?” She asked before her eyes slid back into her head. She passed out on top of the welcoming, stone cold floor.

The Twenty-Ninth Chapter

A
nalindë woke briefly when she
was moved to a gurney, a groan escaped from her despite the healer’s gentle touch. “Mallhawion.” She whispered. An elderly mage, High Lord of the Council of High Mages, bent over the hovering gurney to kiss her on the forehead.

“Listen quickly, you’ll most likely pass out again.” His voice sounded like stone, strong. Enduring. Slightly damp, but solid. “I have placed you in the care of the healers where you will stay for some time yet.” He paused to speak to the blurry shape that stood next to him, their words jumbled into a mass she couldn’t hear over the dull roar in her ears.

He bent to her again, and his lined face came into focus. “You have done well this day, would that I had known you were coming–. I have many questions for you when you have healed.” He turned to leave but jerked to a stop, as if under a compulsion. He studied her for a moment, then spoke. “The bookroom will be set to rights, and the fortress portals sealed against future use, the betrayers will find no knowledge here.”

“Thalion?” she croaked.

“He will yet live. He will limp for some time, but Andulmaion’s healing served well enough to keep him until the healers arrived.” Another blurry shape approached Mallhawion.

“The library has been cleaned, and the portals sealed. We await your orders Lord Mallhawion?” The woman’s song sounded like birds in flight.

“Let us go home.” He turned to Analindë once more, and grasped her hand. “Analindë, promise me the next time you decide to do something like this, you will speak with me first?”

She realized it was not a question but an order, and considering the outcome of this venture it was a wise one. “Yes, High Lord.”

His eyes crinkled as he said, “Good.” Analindë watched him stand and anchor to the ground in four places, then link to five other mages. He opened the last remaining portal, it would seal permanently shut as it closed behind them. He looked down and winked at her, then moved away.

She wondered how long she’d continue to have this double sight. The laying of the energies upon the physical world. She hoped not long, for it made her head spin. She closed her eyes and slept.

Andulmaion set his packs down in the foyer and made his way upstairs through the healer’s wards. During his two weeks spent healing here, he’d become very familiar with the twisting hallways. He’d fared better than Analindë when he’d ripped the remaining bits of Energy from his body and forced it into his source. But then the healers had gotten to him within moments and he hadn’t slowly starved himself while running over a mountain range. The decades of mage work and experience probably helped him as well. He arrived at Analindë’s room a moment later, knocked once, then opened the door. Arandur sat next to Analindë’s bed, her hand clasped tight in his. Andulmaion blanched and stepped back.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude.” Andulmaion said quickly swinging the door shut, eyes averted.

“No. Please come in. Sit.” Arandur rose indicating his chair, then dragged another over to the bedside. Andulmaion awkwardly sat down on the warm seat and waited for Arandur to join him.

He took a sealed envelope from his pocket and set it on the table near her bed. He gazed at Analindë, she lay peacefully, just as she had these past weeks. Still as the water in a pond that does not move. She’d grown thin. Who knew how the healers managed to feed her. He reached out to touch her arm. Was she warm enough?

“You’re dressed for travel.” Arandur’s voice startled him, he dropped his hand back into his lap.

“Yes, I begin my
tuvalië
today and am anxious to set out.”

“Things haven’t yet smoothed over with Master Therin?”

“No, he hasn’t been pleased with me for some time now. Ever since we disregarded his orders, and circumvented his plans. . . . We did exhibit quite a lack of deference for his age and wisdom, and to his role as mentor.” He pursed his lips.

“But?”

“I would do it again in a heartbeat, if it meant saving his life.” Andulmaion glanced at Analindë then back to Arandur. “I should’ve set out five months ago, but right now works just as well. The harshest parts of winter are past. With the coming unrest it’s important that I work as quickly as I can to finish my training.” He turned to look at Analindë again.

“It seems odd that she should lie here for so long doesn’t it? You’re sure her sleep isn’t healer induced?” Andulmaion’s eyes searched the scouts face for truth. “When she was first injured, they placed her–”

“No, it’s self-induced. I’ve asked the healers so many times if there isn’t a way to wake her, that they now avoid me.” Arandur shrugged. “They say she’ll wake when she’s ready. Whatever that means. . . . Exhaustion is the one consistent word that they repeat to me, sometimes I wonder if they are simply referring to themselves.”

Andulmaion nodded solemnly. He reached out awkwardly and brushed the side of Analindë’s warm face and lightly touched her hair with the back of his hand, he then traced the arch of her ear with a finger before snatching his arm back to his side as if burned. He stood abruptly, “I’d better go, I’d meant to stop only briefly on my way out. You’ll stay here at Mirëdell longer?”

“Yes, I’ve been granted a leave-of-absence for a time.”

“It is good. She’ll need your support when she wakes.” He gave the sleeping woman another lingering glance, but sadness welled in him. Their journey carried them on separate paths.

Arandur rose with him and clasped Andulmaion’s hand but didn’t let go. “Andulmaion, Analindë has always been the sister I never had, it will always be thus.”

Andulmaion’s face remained impassive, but he knew the stars in his eyes had quickened, within him hope warred against what he had recently learned. Hope won out. “The Stars have blessed you with such a family,” he carefully replied.

Arandur nodded and spoke the traditional blessing, before releasing Andulmaion’s hand. “May the Stars be with you in your travels and guide your path.”

Andulmaion nodded, then left.

He jogged back downstairs feeling as if a burden had been lifted from him. He grabbed his packs and headed for the stables. His
tuvalië
awaited.

The Thirtieth Chapter

A
nalindë floated as if she
hadn’t a care in the world.

Actually, she had
one
. One care. It had only come to her recently but she pushed thoughts of it away. It made her worry. Or something like worry, it was a quickening of her breath and an anxiety that settled down, deep within her soul. While she’d rested she had found a place to retreat to, far, far away where it was cool and peaceful. Time didn’t matter; the only pressing thought was to relax and regain her strength.

Life had never been so soothing; it was as if she swam through the cool glacier lake that she’d met so long ago. It was balm to her tired and battered body, although she couldn’t quite remember why she should feel tired or battered. So she floated, letting the cool wisps carry her wherever they would.

All had been pleasant until fairly recently when the intruders came. They were her one care or worry. They never stayed very long. Usually there was only one intruder, a woman, unkempt, long, raven-black hair and the bluest eyes she’d ever seen. They reminded her of the bright but dark blue glacier water she swam through. But they weren’t pleasant eyes; they were haunted and gaunt and reminded her of weariness and a vast sadness that Analindë wanted to escape from.

So she paddled away to find another place to float.

Occasionally a man would come. He was tall and had long black hair that reminded her of the void; his eyes were deep violet that bordered on black, but they shone as if they contained silver stars. They spun in patterns that were too complicated to make out, so she ignored them and him. At least that’s what she tried to do. The intruders rarely came together.

The intruders came infrequently in the beginning, but now they came regularly as if seeking out the peaceful frozen haven she’d found. And now they wouldn’t leave, at all. She couldn’t make them understand that this was
her
haven. She didn’t want to share, but they wouldn’t go. She had tried everything she could think of to drive them away, to no avail.

So
she
decided to leave.

Then they started following her.

So she swam away faster.

Under and around icebergs, she hid where she could and slipped away again when they weren’t looking. But those violet or glacial eyes always found her.

Eventually the problem she discovered was that she had floated for so long that she couldn’t remember how to get out. It took her long moments of frantic searching to spy the way she’d come. Through the underwater ice caves she swam, and yet they followed.

The closer to the way out she got, the warmer the water became. It reminded her first of the icy river near home where she and Riian would go swimming.
Riian?
. . . and then she remembered she had a brother. Riian . . . it had a pleasant sound to it. She hoped he was nice.

Yet the intruders followed. She considered returning to the glacial waters, but the intruders blocked her path, so she swam the other way. The next waters reminded her of the pond near the sun-baked sands her family had traveled to once. But the woman and man still followed her and were gaining on her, so she continued on, but faster. She swam, arms flailing, panicked until she started to drown. Water smothered her; she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t reach the surface.

Inhaling water, she woke screaming, her throat raw, and sitting up in bed panting as if she had run a long distance. A healer she didn’t recognize came running into the room; eyes darted around, searching for the threat that lay within the midnight shadows. Finding none, she slowly approached Analindë, hands raised in a calming gesture.

“Analindë. You’re safe. All is well now that you’re awake,” she said. “Thirsty?”

No. She thought. But then the feeling of drowning washed away and she realized that yes indeed, she was thirsty.

Analindë blinked, trying to make her eyes focus, as she looked around the stark room she was in and nodded. The healer poured her a glass of water, which she greedily drank.

Light from the moon poured through the windows, casting the room into an eerie palate of grays and blues. “I’m Vinriel, remember?” Analindë let the name rattle around in her mind and ten nodded. Vinriel sat cautiously down in the chair next to her bed and lit the candle on the bedside table. A yellow glow spread out from the candle warming the room, chasing away the shadows.

“How many days?” she asked. Her voice sounded raspy to her ears.

“Twenty-three days you’ve drifted since you were brought from the abandoned fortress.” Vinriel leaned forward to place a blanket around her shoulders. “You found what you searched for?”

Analindë turned toward the healer, searching her face for meaning to the words she’d heard. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s written in our books of healing that in the early days of our time on this land, miraculous happenings occurred when powerful workings of Energy were wrought. Oftimes after performing these workings of Energy the mages would fall into a deep trance from which they couldn’t be awakened until they’d found what they searched for.” Vinriel paused to look absently out the windows at the lights spanning the courtyard. She turned back and sought out Analindë’s eyes. “Finding no injuries beyond normal scrapes and bruises and to your Energy pathways, we’d hoped–”

Analindë thought back to the icy blue waters in which she’d drifted, finding a semblance of peace she hadn’t been able to find for many moons. “I don’t know.” She thought of the blissful, cool serenity that she’d found in that icy reserve, and then to the blue and violet eyes that increasingly reminded her of her parents. She shook her head to clear the vision.

“Are you hungry?” At her nod, Vinriel rose. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

Analindë watched the flickering flame of the candle. It reminded her of the desert fire she’d found. She realized that she’d never have difficulty calling fire or finding its shape ever again. She knew fire and understood it like she never had before. To test her newfound knowledge, she looked to the hearth that lay opposite her. Logs lay neatly stacked ready to be lit. Using just a simple flick of her mind, instead of the proper gesture and accompanying words, the logs burst into flame. The wood crackled merrily in the grate, and the last of the shadows fled from her room.

She carefully eased her way to the edge of her bed, unsure of her strength. She swung her legs over the side and slowly shifted her weight to her feet as she adjusted to unaccustomed weight. As she stood, her nightgown swooshed softly down around her ankles. “Twenty-three days,” she murmured. “It feels more like a good night’s sleep.” She twisted around, stretching. Itchy tight muscles pulled and lengthened. It felt good. Surprised by her strength, she shuffled over to the window and looked out to the courtyard below. Magelights gently lit snow-covered gardens. Mirëdell lay beyond, creating a backdrop of blackness, interspersed with squares of light in the many stories of floors. “Twenty-three days.”

“You’re up,” said Laerwen. Eyebrows rose as lines of worry creased her forehead. “Vinriel told me you’d awakened and were hungry; perhaps you should come and sit. We aren’t positive of the after affects of such a deep sleep.”

“Actually, I feel fine. No, not fine, but quite rested. I don’t think that I’ll be able to sleep any time soon,” she said as she looked at her bed with distaste. The distaste turned quickly into longing as she spied the food Laerwen was laying out on the table. “That smells delicious.”

Laerwen sat with her while she ate. Creamy mashed potatoes and rich chicken noodle soup. She’d never tasted anything so good. A steaming cup of lightly spiced cider awaited; its fragrance wafted toward her.

“What news do you have?” Analindë asked inbetween bites of food.

“Anyone or anything you are interested in hearing about first?” Analindë shook her head. Laerwen continued, “As you know already, the humans were all killed at the abandoned city. Andulmaion will have no more problems with that spell of his, although I doubt he’ll ever call it again. It shook him to the core.”

“He’s fine now?”

“Yes, he spent several days with us along with Thalion. Thalion’s leg is fully healed due to Andulmaion’s quick work. He’ll have a limp for some time and bear a scar, yet he lives. And Andulmaion, he suffered similar injuries to the ones you brought with you when you first arrived back at Mirëdell. His channels were burned raw from where he wrenched the remaining Energy from his body and threw it into mastering the globe.

“He left us one week ago to start his
tuvalië
.”

“He left?” she asked as tears smarted at her eyes. “Yes, I know he was anxious to go. I had thought–”

“He left you a note.” Laerwen indicated a sealed envelope she’d overlooked on the bedside table. Analindë relaxed.

“Arandur has been granted a few weeks leave now that the immediate threat the humans presented is over. He has been assigned quarters in the visitors wing.”

Knowing that Arandur would be around helped lessen the feeling of aloneness that had suddenly taken up residence inside her, he’d always been family. “And the dissenters? What news of them?”

“There are twenty-seven known elves that have left the protection of the Realm and plot against it. It is believed that it will be some time before they act again. The loss of their anonymity, the humans, and their chance to obtain the Mageborn Books has ruined their plans for the time being. The fortress has been sealed against all comers. They’ll not try in that direction again.”

Analindë glanced at the healer, alarmed. Reading the question in her eyes, the healer rushed to add, “Not to worry. Not many of us know of the fortress and those of us who do, have sworn oaths of secrecy.”

Something within her relaxed and she nodded gratefully. Analindë took a long, slow sip of cider, avoiding the last question plaguing her. She finally set down her cup and asked, “And Master Therin, how does he fare?”

Laerwen’s face fell. “I’m sorry to give you such news, but he was very disappointed that you both disobeyed him. I think it may be some time before he forgives you.” She took a moment to stack the empty dishes. “However, High Lord Mallhawion has chosen to support you. Andulmaion was still able to start his
tuvalië
, and you won’t be sent away from Mirëdell, as would be the normal consequence.”