Return to Caer Lon (22 page)

Chapter 22

“Where
is Elwyn?”

The woman flinched, resuming her search for dust flakes on the floor. Fillin narrowed her eyes, barely resisting the urge to grab the servant by the shoulder to shake a satisfying answer out of her. Surely her question was simple enough
that
even an idiot like this one could understand it.

She gritted her teeth. The woman
looked
stupid. Her fingers were clenched into her voluminous skirt; the psi-like tattoo on her left forearm made her another of those forest people her father kept enslaving. They were good for nothing; not cleaning, not cooking, and certainly not providing satisfying answers. The pretty blonde stamped her foot, and spat every
syllab
le
.

“The man who was here. Where. Is. He?”

She punctuated each word to drill the question into the halfwit’s mind. A pair of violet eyes came up to meet hers, annoyingly empty; as empty as the maid’s brain
,
for sure!

Fillin’s temper rose dangerously close to the surface, forcing her heave in a deep breath. Anger always turned her pink cheeks to crimson, and red wasn’t a color she found attractive on herself. Not that she had to worry about her looks now that Elwyn was out of her reach. Or before, mind you
;
she had barely had to flutter her lashes to have him jump at will.

“Oh, never mind. You will answer to my father later
,
I suppose.”

The blonde spun on her heels, making
it
a point to bang the door after her. The yelp and the crash that followed her exit felt utterly good as it echoed behind the door. The torch on the wall flickered, making the darkness dance along the corridor.

Fillin glared, as the flame slowly reached a steady glow again. Oh, she really couldn’t stand this place; it was full of secrets and shadows which refused to be unveiled. Whenever she managed to lift a corner to expose the mysteries of Caer Lon, another corner darkened; layers upon layers of ancient knowledge blocked her sight, each just within her reach
,
and all so far away
that
it enraged her. Knowledge was power
;
different from Magic
,
yet just as powerful, if not more. She wanted to know.

Fillin sneered once more, and arranged her puffing sleeves before she started down the stairs. There was only one place she could hope to find her teacher now.

oOo

The sorcerer walked back and forth before the stone basin. Twice in the previous days he had tried to reach for the Seer, and had been repelled both times. The fire beside him roared his disgust. How on earth did she manage to block him out? She didn’t know how, or she would have done so from the very beginning!

Trying to get some answers out of her twin brother had been another waste of time and energy; the boy was so thick he had gathered nothing but images of a long-forgotten past out of his brain. Who cared now how a kinglet had tried to break what was unbreakable
,
and of course
,
achieved nothing but
to
trap the Source in
the
stone? The sword and its power would make him invincible, immortal maybe, and bring the world to its knees, bending before the greatest sorcerer of all times. He needed that sword. The flames licked the mantel, almost white in greed.

Wolfryth approached the bowl, catching his reflection in the silvery liquid. He frowned, yellow eyes gleaming, and the liquid cleared to become as transparent as water. He despised Water, such a weak element, just good enough to play tricks when one got bored. Yet it could have its utility…

Bending forward, he murmured
,
“Uri deite arostand hudar skivat.”

His scarred face deformed when his breath troubled the delicate surface. Slowly, a glow came to life at the bottom of the basin, spreading light through the liquid, coloring it in tones of green and black. The ghostly shapes in the woods sharpened. A blond man was leading the way, one hand stretched backward to help the dark haired woman to reach near a white fog.

He snorted
;
Pendragon and his enchantress. So they
had
finally decided to stop lurking in that pity of a city, and progressed in their search of him… The woman tripped on the smooth flat surface, as if her legs were too weak to support her, instantly steadied by her companion. How chivalrous of him…

Wolfryth’s eyes gleamed
as he
recall
ed
the ferocious predator wh
ose
fur he wore as a cloak. The sorcerer wiped the image from the bowl with a backflip of his hand with a wicked scorn. The seer seemed exhausted; with her defen
s
e
s
low
;
it would be so easy to retrieve his grasp on her, almost too easy.

Wolfryth smirked in derision, both eager and disappointed. Her resistance was futile but it was so entertaining...

oOo

A squeal woke Elwyn up. His head weighed a ton, so heavy he didn’t even bother to lift it upright. His neck had every chance
of
s
n
ap
ping
if he tried. It also felt empty, thinking of it, now
that
the images had left him alone.

Unable to open his eyes yet, he used his nose to figure out what had changed around him. The floor was cool, just not as blissfully cold as it was when he passed out in his room. The stench was vaguely familiar; it held
its
own odor, spiced by sweat and fear, mixed with…

Elwyn opened one eye and moaned as he was rewarded for his effort by a flourish of exploding stars on a dull brown sky; a furry dull brown sky. When did the sky grow fur? With black whiskers?

His jolt instantly chased away the little intruder.

“And I’m back with the rats…”

Elwyn
gave up on
straightening up and carefully rolled on his back. The shackle bit into his forearm so he stopped pulling at it and finally sat, hissing when the upright position awoke the contest
of the broken ribs
in his chest. When the pain decreased from hellish to excruciating and he could breathe again, Elwyn lifted his head delicately to check his surroundings.

This cell had no window. The wall
at
his back was cut directly into the rock. The clasp was solid iron, the only metal his magical connection to Elemental Earth couldn’t affect. He gave an angry pull to the chain. His try granted him another pang
,
which somehow turned into a chuckle.

“Oh Elwyn… You can’t break these…”

Her whole being repulsed him, from her pale blond hair and angelic face to the smug on her sneaky little mouth. Just the thought he’d kissed her… Ew
w
… He didn’t bother softening his grouch.

“Lessons are indefinitely postponed, Fillin. Go away.”

Breathing still hurt, but at least he had the satisfaction to guess she was glowering when she retorted
,
“There’s no need to be disagreeable.”

“Well,
m
y
l
ady w
ill
pardon me if I lack some manners. I think they disappeared when
your father
tortured me!”

Fillin snorted
.

“There is no talking to you when you’re so bitter.”

Elwyn exploded, and so did the fireballs behind his lids, but he didn’t care.

“Are you kidding me? You drugged me and you manipulated me so I
would teach
you magic and now I’m chained to the wall in a dungeon with
rats
! Did you think I would be grateful?”

She pushed a handful of silvery blond hair over her shoulder, glaring.

“You should be. After all, it’s thanks to me that you were out of your cage in the first place. I talked my father into letting me take care of your wounds. And if you had told him what he wanted to know, we would still be comfortable upstairs practi
c
ing.”

“I can’t believe it…” Elwyn muttered. It had to be the plant she had made him absorb that made him fall for her; momentarily insanity; feverish lust; whatever. He was chained to a wall, beaten black and blue by her own father, she admitted she had voluntarily deadened him, and she still thought he would jump
at
her every command?

“Leave me alone.”

“Pfff
! A
s if your stupid little sister w
ere
going to save you. She can’t even save herself.”

His blood chilled.

“What are you talking about?”

Fillin rolled her eyes, or he guessed she did by the smugness in her reply
.

“You don’t really think you are
that
interesting, do you? You’re just the bait
,
of course.”

Elwyn held to the tiniest flick
er
of hope.

“Then you failed. My father and Derek would never allow her to come after me.”

She laughed, and the sound turned his insides into a block of frozen stone, rippled by the icicles flowing in his veins. It was a lie, a trick, just another trick to use him...

“They didn’t come; of course not. They saw through your schemes. Derek-”

“Oh, Elwyn, you’re so naïve, it’s sweet...”

Stone and ice morphed into a glacial need to yell.

“Shut up!”

He grappled to get up, his legs shaking under him; the iron around his arm seemed the only thing solid around him.

“Shut the hell up!”

The voices in his head awoke to scream their approval. His skin tickled. His free hand
closed in a fist around a non-
existent weapon. The words spilled out before he recognized them.

“Adjegy zibran egyver felhok.”
-

Then suddenly it was there, a spear conjured out of the moisture in the ground and the humidity in the dungeons, out of his blood, a deadly weapon he was free to use on his enemy. The transparent shaft took the glint of solid glass.

Fillin squeaked: “You can’t! It’s impossible
!
Y
ou don’t have that kind of magic!”

Elwyn
roared.

“I TOLD YOU TO SHUT UP!”

The pike flew through the air. In a daze, Elwyn saw it pass between the bars, slicing the air toward the vague silhouette in the other side of the fence.

“Legi skjold!”

The weapon broke in two on the invisible barrier Wolfryth created in front of them. Fillin backed against the wall, squeezing her hands, her voice trembling in disbelief.

“Father, he tried to harm me.”

Elwyn confronted the wild stare of his enemy.

“YES! And I’ll try again as soon as I get the chance! And this time I won’t miss!”

“Legi angrep.”

The low growl was lost in the terrifying noise of the abandoned spear crushed under the shield. Elwyn’s knees gave way under him and he fell to the ground, affected by the annihilation of his weapon. He understood too late that creating it had taken a part of himself, his strength or his very own magical core…

Horrified, he saw those bits of him crumbled to merge with the sorcerer’s creation, becoming a part of it, atrociously powerful. Wolfryth’s eyes gleamed in pleasure.

“Kill him.”

The renewed blade moved up from the ground and flew again.

oOo

Derek’s shout
widened
until it hit the rock face; the sound curved, vibrated, reaching higher octaves, growing louder. It continued to inflate, unbearable, so empty, so sharp, wracking her bones, exploding in her heart… She backed with her hands over her hears, under the fall, away from the noise, it had to stop
.
P
lease make it
stop
...
make it stop
...
please, please, please…

“Sacha!”

Chapter 23

In
a second that seemed to last an hour, Derek saw her hair spread in the water like it was alive before it disappeared in the furious boils of the pool. He dropped his bag and his sword and dove. The water chilled him instantly. His body protested, his muscles clenching painfully at the a
ssault
. The simmers below the waterfall made it nearly impossible to see anything. His eyes burn
ed
from the turmoil and the icy cold water. He had to fight to keep his eyelids open.

Derek swam deeper, panic rising by the second. His lungs squeezed, begging for air. He couldn’t see Sacha anywhere. He gave another stroke. She was here, somewhere, just within his reach. God, he was freezing. How to find grey among grey?

The lack of oxygen started affecting his senses. From now on, he would
allow
her
to
wear
only
bright colors. She took his breath away in pure white. His fingers were getting numb from cold. She was stunning in vivid red. He had to find her.
Her eyes shone like the purest emeralds.
His heart crashed against his chest, fighting for a way out. His whole being was screaming, urging him to go up for air.

Grey clouded his vision and he feared he was fainting. Derek threw his hands forward and grabbed the dark algae blocking his way. The wire circled his wrist, soft as silk. He pulled and the roots resisted. His eyes
stung
from the boil of the water. Despair renewed his strength. The young man untangled his hands from the floating mane to clench the ghostly form he prayed was Sacha. His foot hit the ground and he kicked
,
hoping the suction pulling them downward would yield.

For several agonizing seconds, he felt the silt collapse under his feet
. T
he moving ground gripped him, swallowing his ankles. Derek searched for a better hold on the body against his and pushed. He w
ould
not giv
e
her up. Ever. He bent his knees and his arms closed firmly around her waist before he pushed as hard as he could.

His head broke the surface with a vital gasp, instantly drowned by the water falling on their heads. Breathing never felt so wonderful. Derek didn’t take time to savor the blissful air intoxicating his blood. He swam to the bank with Sacha in tow, keeping her head above the water
as
best he could. He lifted both their bodies
o
nto the muddy ground, then in
to
the grotto he had glimpsed before her fall. Keeping her close, he looked for a pulse. Her skin was icy and slick under his fingers.

“You came this far, Sacha
.
D
on’t give up now.”

It was dark below the waterfall, or perhaps the night had fallen upon them.
Using only the dim light and his sense of touch, he found
her throat. Kneeling, he rubbed one hand on her back and sides, his other hand glued to the minuscule proof she was still alive.

“I
w
on’t allow you to die on me
.
W
ake up, Sacha. Wake up, please…”

His chattering teeth choked the last word. He wanted to yell at her. To beg. Anything
,
so  back to him. Suddenly Sacha convulsed, her spasms worsening by the second; her stomach clenched violently under his palm. He quickly rolled her on her side before she
choked on
the water she had swallowed in
nearly
drown
ing
.

Shaken, Derek backed
against
the wall while she coughed and spat, trying painfully to recover her breath; he kept his head in his hands, eyes closed. For an instant, he thought he had lost her, and the world had become empty and tasteless.

After a few minutes, he felt strong enough to face her and he watched attentively as her queasiness calmed down and she pushed
,
ungainly on her knees and hands, then straightened up to sit on her heels. Derek waited, not trusting himself around her.

Sacha bat
ted
her eyelids, a little dazed. Her head hurt and she touched her scalp, almost stunned to feel her hair wet and tousled. She pushed the locks from her cheeks, and noticed her clothes
,
too
,
were drenched. She was cold. She remembered praising the beautiful sight and moving closer to Derek to catch his speech. A warning of some sort, before the world broke under her feet and… Her head really hurt. Elwyn was the one gifted with water and earth. Why couldn’t the antic Caer Lon be in a desert? She hated being damped to the bone. Or freezing cold, for that matter.

Derek’s attention was fixed on her and that
,
too
,
was unusual. He generally avoided looking at her for long. She glanced up, trying to adjust to the dim light, and realized he was wet too. He hadn’t been when they walked closer to the waterfall, at least not to this point. He looked like he had taken a bath fully clothed and just stepped out of the tub. Just like she did.

“Did we…
?
”
Take a swim
sounded stupid
.
“Did we fall into the pond?”

Her question seemed to amuse him but not enough
so that
he would answer right away. The young man moved from his support with a grimace and walked to the entrance to retrieve his weapon and his bag. The ceiling was so low he had to keep his head bent forward. His frame filled out the opening completely. Sacha stood on tottering legs. Her own head brushed the stone above her. Instinctively, she looked for something to steady herself and she found his arm ready for her.

“Thank you.”

The heartfelt words took him by surprise. But it lasted only a second, before he barked
,
“We need to keep moving or we’ll freeze to death. Let’s go.”

Holding their pack
s
at arm length, he started toward the dark cave in front of her. Sacha had no choice but to follow. Somehow, she was grateful he assumed she could walk. It forced her to fight the lassitude which was slowly invading her. If only she had not been so terribly cold… She didn’t question his
venturing into the cavern. Approaching the water again… Another shiver shattered her bones.

The small passage seemed to connect to a bigger cave. Fortunately, it went drier as they progressed farther from the fall. On the other hand, light was only a memory now. As darkness grew, Sacha felt her wet clothes become heavier on her shoulders, refusing to dry. She was unable to warm up, and she was sure her teeth were going to crack if they continued chattering so hard.

Derek was still going, towing her behind him. She had gripped his sleeve at one point, letting go off his arm but unable to free him completely. Her pride refused to ask for a stop
. She
forced one foot in front of the other, enduring the glacial sting cutting her bones. Her cloak tangled in her legs to make her trip. Her dampe
ne
d boots made each step spongy and more difficult. In the dark, her labored breathing rolled loud
ly
, reverberating in the silence around them.

Derek stopped, fidgeting while her
chattering
teeth tried to break her jaws. Taking her hand, he forced her fingers to close around a stick of hard wax.

“Can you light the candle?”

She tried to make sense of his request as the unbearable pressure crushed her temples. The words seemed disconnected from each other.

“Sacha, I know you are tired, but we need light. Please, try to light the candle.”

She focused on the form in her hand, picturing the wick. The pounding in her head jammed harder. A small flame erupted, dangerously weak before it grew stronger. The effort to call on her magic exhausted the last of her strength. Derek instantly caught her when her legs gave
way
under her, helping her to the ground slowly.

The small gleam chased away the shadows around his face. She hoped she didn’t look that pitiful. His hairs were half-glued to his skull, half spiking in every possible direction. His skin was glowing under the candlelight. His strong jaw was firmly clenched, probably because he was fighting shivers
,
as well. His shirt was nearly transparent and the bu
l
ge of muscles
,
strengthened by years of training
,
showed through.

Sacha tightened her cloak around her. She regretted it instantly
,
for more cold seemed to penetrate her bones. The heat on her cheeks was almost welcome in her prison of ice. Derek’s voice floated toward her, so far away...

“You need to get rid of your wet clothes.”

The order partly stopped
the
mad dance
of her teeth
.

“I a-am not di-di-dives-ti-ti-ting in front ooooof you.”

Derek groaned and fixed the candle on the ground with drops of melted wax.

“I didn’t pull you out of the water to see you die of cold. Here.”

He handed
Sacha
a dry shirt he had extracted from his backpack
,
along with his cloak.

“It will help you stay warm, and modest.”

Her fingers refused to release him. Derek gently unclenched her hand from his sleeve, brushing her skin.

“I won’t be long. I just want a look around.”

Free from her grasp, he put the cloak on the ground and pulled his shirt above his head. Sacha’s eyes widened in
–
appreciative
-
shock. How long had it been since they played in the lake, children
,
unaware of the effect of bare skin? She swallowed nervously and shivered again. The play of light on his shoulder blades distracted her.
Clearly, t
hey weren’t children anymore. Head low, Sacha started unlacing her shirt, and took off her boots, then her pants, fighting (blessing) the heat cramping up her neck and face.

The light flickered on the wall in front of her
. S
he guessed Derek had taken up the candle to visit their shelter. Risking a glance above her shoulder,
Sacha
glimpsed his large frame. His back and his shoulders were bare. Her gaze moved down to his waist, locked
on
the display of skin and muscles which were very… really… S
he
turned away with a muffle cry.

With her eyes firmly shut, she finished stripping off her wet clothes. Twisting her hair into a bun to
wring it out
the best she could, she unfolded the shirt. A sigh of relief escaped her lips when she slipped it on. The blissfully dry garment was large for her slender frame, and nearly reached her knees.

She wondered what Derek was doing. He had saved her life… She didn’t dare
look
around, in any case her traitorous eyes ventured inappropriately again. Crouched with her knees to her chest, she
relished
in the scent of his shirt. It smelt of earth, and metal, and something peppery she thought was just Derek. The rough fabric was comforting
;
yet
her body heat
refused to decrease
, as tiredness sank back in. Cold seemed encrusted in her bones, so her
skin burned while
her insides quivered. Her head grew heavy once more and soon keeping her eyes closed stopped being that hard.

His voice made her jump
out
of her half-d
o
ze.

“You can look now
.
I’m covered.”

Teasing perked in his voice, too tempting to resist. Her eyes fluttered open before she could even blush. Covered was a manner of speaking. He had wrapped his cloak around his hips as an oversized towel. The shadows played an intriguing ballet on his bare chest when he bent down to pick up the bag.
For a moment, s
he failed to convince herself
that
his s
peech
was more interesting.

“There is an alcove up there, where the walls narrow.”

Sacha nodded and stood awkwardly, unnerved by the feeling of her naked legs offered to his attention. One hand on the wall to steady herself, she took one step forward and tripped. Derek circled her waist to support her. She hadn’t notice he was so close.

Her teeth started their crazy chatter again and she began to shiver uncontrollably. Pain shot through her legs with every step. His grip on her waist tightened.

“Just a little farther, Sacha. It will be easier to warm up there.”

She could only nod.
"
Warm up
"
had the taste of wishful illusion. Tears burn
ed
her eyes. She shut them tight to stop them from welling, exhausted by the effort and the desperation of their situation. Their clothes were drenched and without a fire, it seemed impossible to dry them. They could not go on with only three candles, his cloak and the shirt he had given her.