Authors: Robin D. Owens
She
paused for emphasis. "All the other communities in our society have agreed
with this course—the Sorcerers and Sorceresses of the Tower, the City-and
Townmasters, the Knights and Chevaliers of the Field, the Seamasters. Even the
Cloister—the Friends of the Singer and the Song who guide us spiritually—advise
this action.
"A
fighting woman of the greatest magical power will answer our Call and be
Summoned to Lladrana to take her place as a Marshall. She will stay and help us
triumph against the Dark."
"And
not a female demon. There will be Testing?"
Thealia smiled coldly. "You made that a prerequisite of your
cooperation, didn't you?" And won that point. Her loss still stung. She
would have much preferred to have communicated their needs
and the rewards honestly to the Exotique. "Yes,
Reynardus, she will be Tested thrice as soon as she appears. The pool is
ready." Thealia gestured to a large, square ritual bathing pool on the
other side of the round chamber, beneath the lower points of the pentacle.
"The next day she will undergo the Choosing ritual. Once she is Paired
with a Lladranan by a blood-bond, we are sure she will stay."
She watched as he spun on his heel and a spur scored the stone
wall. He examined the chamber with one comprehensive glance. He'd seen and
evaluated every detail of their preparations in that brief scan—part of his
Power.
"Everything seems in order. I'll take my place in the ritual
tonight." Without another word he exited the Temple.
She'd thought so all along, but she was glad to see him go.
The tinkling of time-chimes reminded her of the hour. She let her
shoulders slump. The moment had come to prepare herself for the great ritual of
Summoning, and the Testing afterward. She gazed wistfully at the blue velvet
pads atop the low stone bench that half-circled the room, the pillows and rugs
on the floor. She wanted to sit and close her eyes and steep her soul in the
comforting, powerfully magical atmosphere. But the Marshalls would need every
particle of that calm magic to Summon the one who would help them save Lladrana
from the Dark.
Thealia closed, locked and bespelled the door behind her. She
walked to a pointed arch of the cloister window that opened into the
wet-slicked pavement and verdant grass courtyard, and forced herself to look at
the pummeling rain.
As each drop clinked against the stone, a tiny scaled worm
wriggled from it. Most of the worms sizzled to death in a puff of greasy stench
when they reached lush grass. The few remaining burrowed into the earth,
purpose and effect still unknown.
Thealia shuddered. She hated rain.
A
lexa Fitzwalter slogged through the knee-deep snow, every step
difficult. She'd thought she had survived the worst of her grief over the death
of her best friend, a friend who was more like a sister, but here she was,
doing something completely crazy. Following a dream, a song that compelled her
to trek through the mountains at night. Dangerous and mad. She couldn't explain
her actions rationally, so it must be another aspect of mourning.
Yet she trudged on, knowing that although she couldn't escape the
hurt inside her, she could leave Denver and all her problems behind for the
moment.
Such sad thoughts on such a cold, perfect night. The soft feathery
snowflakes were as heartbreaking as the sharp, pristine air she drew into her
lungs. A night that spoke of mystery and life and challenge, if you dared to
take it, shape it,
live
it.
Just that easily the image of her friend Sophie was back in
Alexa's thoughts—Sophie who had been the sister and only family Alexa had ever
had. Sophie laughing and dancing through the snow-crystal laden air, whisking
sparkles of ice around her in a shimmering aura.
Sophie had been bold and vibrant; Alexa deep and brooding. But
they'd both been risk-takers. Who else would be crazy enough to start up a law
firm right out of school, trusting themselves and each other to make it work;
knowing that they were both alone in the world with no family and no family
money to cushion the start of a business? They had only themselves and their
friendship to depend upon. But it had been enough.
Then Sophie died in a car accident.
Alexa's face chilled as tears froze on her skin. No use wiping
them away since others would follow.
She stopped and adjusted her fanny pack, panting through her
mouth, sending puffs of white vapor into the air. The cold
made the inside of her nose crackle. She squinted up the hill—no sign of a
track, but she'd hiked this area often enough to know where she was going. Odd
that she was drawn to this point, never a favorite.
It was just one more crazy thing, part and parcel of the dreams
and the auditory hallucinations. Alexa had been hearing things that weren't
there, that no one else heard. Not instructions from God—she was no Joan of
Arc—but a stream of rising and falling vocal music. Ripples of a chime that
brought rainbow colors to her mind. And the gong. The gong haunted her.
It had sounded first, then the chime, then the chants. They had
alternated and mixed. First the gong had been muffled as if echoing from a
great distance. Then the sound had sharpened, become insistent, reverberating
in her dreams until she woke. Awake, the memory of it would ring through her,
shattering her thoughts all day.
Finally the sound in her mind had forced her into her car and led
her here.
Obviously she wasn't coping as well as she'd thought with Sophie's
death.
Sophie would have expected Alexa to handle the situation better,
to be more flexible. Vital, ebullient Sophie would want her to
live,
not
simply exist in a world temporarily bleak. She would expect Alexa to adapt
again as she had so often when her life ruptured. Instead, Alexa followed a
song.
The sky was so black as to be eternal, with sparks of light
pinpointing lost dreams. The gauzy veil of the Milky Way draped across the bowl
of night was so beautiful as to make her soul ache with longing—to be a star,
to be the sky, to be a night goddess.
By the time Alexa reached the summit the snowflakes had
stopped. Brilliant white peaks encircled her, as if all the
starshine in the universe coated them. She lifted her gaze to the stars again
and pinpricks of light dazzled her eyes through the tears.
When she blinked them away, she saw the silver net descending,
coalescing into a solid silver arch before her. She couldn't move a muscle. Her
in-caught breath was so quick and big that she doubled over, coughing.
The gong sounded, the chimes tinkled a scale. The arch settled.
Her heart thudded fast and she heard her own gasps. She wanted to
run, but before she could lift her feet, the beauty of the arch and the stream
of music coming from it soothed the ragged edges of her mourning. The sheer
relief at having her hurt gone made Alexa stay.
Reality or illusion? If she waited would it fade like all dreams?
Hunched, Alexa saw the shiver of rippling silver in the arch.
Silver flowing like mercury, then parted to send a stream of voices lifted in
music to her, along with a sparkling rainbow.
Now there were words, heard more in her head and her heart than
with her ears, affecting her,
feeling
real, especially since the chants
weren't songs of exaltation but pleas. "Help us. Come to us. We need you
here
as no one there ever will."
Alexa straightened and her throat tightened at the truth. No one
needed her here.
The music enveloped, the gong enchanted, the words invited. She
could only stand and stare, bemused. It went on and on until she couldn't feel
her feet, and her fingers hooked around the straps of her pack, numbed.
"Come to us." Warmth and light and sound tugged at her.
She brushed a hand down the silver arch. It was warm to her touch.
Planting a hand against it, she pushed. It was solid.
"Come to us."
The delicate scent of spring blossoms and renewal drew her to the
rainbow. Most appealing of all was the small bud of hope that unfurled within
her, the hope that she
could
help. She could find a place of her own
where she was valued, where she fit.
At her back was the cold, friendless night.
Alexa stepped through the arch. Rainbow crystals bathed her and
sunk into her skin to shimmer like glitter all along her nerves. Her loose hat
fell off. Her fine hair lifted straight out from her head. She'd look like a
brown dandelion. She threw back her head and laughed at the joyful
effervescence. Hope and excitement flowed through her. She flung out her arms
and twirled into a dance.
The monster attacked.
Big, twice as big as she. Black hairy bristles all over its body.
Long fangs. Claws sliced, shredding her down coat, releasing a flurry of
feathers into whistling winds.
Fear jolted her. She screamed but heard no sound. A paw-hand
sporting foot-long gleaming claws slashed at her head. She ducked, but its hair
brushed her face raw.
Move!
How? She had no weight.
She rammed her own arms up against the beast. They stung with
shock, but the blow propelled her and the monster apart.
Another clawed swipe. Her pack loosened and vanished. Her gloves
whipped off in the wind. Better her stuff than her.
Alexa saw an opening.
Escape!
It was a bright hole with rainbow traces. Panting in terror, she
kicked with all her might, connected with the monster, ducked, rolled, spun,
struggled to the hole and plunged into it feet-first. The last thing she saw
was a huge red mouth and teeth dripping yellow spit. She didn't know if the
beast growled in fury or tried to bite her head off. Or both.
The hole sucked her through.
And into a maelstrom of sound. A full orchestra rose in triumphant
crescendo.
A flash swept across her vision—a pentacle? She landed hard in the
center, on a pavement of multicolored stones. The groan rattling from her teeth
echoed.
Solid. Real. The music faded to a background murmur. She looked
up. People in rich robes stared at her. She was among humans. She closed her
eyes in gratitude. When she opened them she was circled by swords.
"T
his
is our savior? The
one we risked our lives for? It's puny. And ugly," Reynardus said.
Thealia stared in shock at the small being in the pentagram's
center. It was partially feathered, something she'd never seen before. Never
anticipated. A female avian.
The chanting, gong and Summoning had gone well up to a point.
Thealia had been sure they'd lured their Exotique fighter, caught her—the
spirit and Power of her had sung through the connection. They'd lost her in the
doorway, but only for a few seconds.
Looking at the entity, so different from the woman she'd
anticipated, Thealia felt her blood drain from her face until her lips felt
cold and stiff. There must be
some
way to save the situation.
Reynardus sneered down his nose at her. "This is the
'fighting woman of the greatest magical Power' you promised, Swordmarshall
Thealia. Those were your words, were they not?"
If he said so, they were. His Power included a perfect memory.
He didn't wait for an answer. "Just as I thought. Wasted
effort. The Power we used to bring this
thing
here will keep us all
drained for days. This is a disaster." He dropped his sword and turned.
"Stop!" ordered the Medica. She was a healer, not a
Marshall, but they listened. "You've already broken the link between us,
but
don't break the circle. And do
you,
Knight
Lord Swordmarshall Reynardus, think small is weak? What of this?" She
opened her hand and blew away a protective sphere. The glowing starlike
atomball floated free. She flicked it to Reynardus.
Reflexively his ivory baton appeared in his hand and tipped the
ball away, sent it spinning across the circle.
Thealia's wasn't the only gasp. A loose atomball, and the whole
circle of Marshalls depleted from the Summoning! She froze with horror as it
sped to her husband, Partis. He didn't have the Power to hold it even at full
strength. His round face showed only minor strain as he caught the ball on the
tip of his staff.
"I believe this is the first Test for the Exotique," Partis
said, "to measure her Power." He tossed the ball directly to the
small female rising to her feet.
A
lexa wanted to believe she dreamed, but the physical sensations
were all too real for her to ignore. She wondered—
Shit! The little star the strangers played keep-away with came
straight at her! She ducked, held out her right hand, and the ball smacked into
her palm with stinging force. It burned and sent rivulets of heat pouring
through her veins, up her arm. And here she'd followed a song to help. Look
where it got her. Somewhere else.