Wizard of the Grove (45 page)

“I am no more susceptible to your power than you are to mine, wizard.” Lord Death began to grow angry as well. How dare she think she had to force him. How dare she try!

The glow faded but the eyes remained hard. “Then why are you here?”

“Can't you trust me?”

Had he spoken more gently Crystal would have responded differently, she knew, because she did trust him. But it sounded like a challenge and she would not be challenged when he was in the wrong.

“The last who so snuck under my defenses was Kraydak.”

“Do you compare me to him, then?”

“I do not. Your actions speak for themselves.”

That hurt. More so, Lord Death admitted, because it was true. He had done pretty much exactly what Kraydak had done. For other reasons, perhaps, but that could be no excuse.
What am I doing here?
he asked himself, suddenly aghast at what he had been about to do.

“Crystal, I . . .”

“No.” Her voice threatened to break and she got it firmly back under control. How could he? “No excuses.”

“If you'd only listen . . .”

“Oh, so that's it, you don't think I listen to you.” Guilt sharpened her voice; she hadn't been listening to him. As soon as Raulin and Jago had come into her life, she'd all but abandoned the friendship with Lord Death and the realization she could do such a thing twisted like a knife. “You think I should just drop everything and come to your beck and call?”

“My beck and call? When have I ever called you?” Lord Death began to grow angry again. It was easiest.
If I
called,
asked his heart, too terrified of the answer to trust the words to his mouth,
would you come?

Crystal responded to his anger. Of all the emotions beating at her, anger, at least, she understood. “What are you doing in my mind?” And her hair swirled forward to hide the question in her eyes.
Why haven't you ever called me?
She'd needed him so much in the past, but he'd never once shown he needed her.

“I am Death!” It was the last cry of a drowning man. “I go where I choose.”

“Tell me why you sought out Avreen!”

“Why should I?”

“Because I . . .”

“What?” He made it a taunt.

“Because I said so!” Crystal almost screamed it.

“Hah!”

Eyes blazing, she stepped forward, placed both hands against his chest and pushed.

Lord Death fell backward and stared up at her from where he lay. He could feel the pressure of her hands, her touch. He wet dry lips and watched her hand reach out again, the way a bird would watch a snake. She would not touch in anger this time, he could see that in her face. And he saw as well, a fear as great as his.

The warmth of her hand caressed his cheek and the hand itself would do so in an instant.

He panicked and threw himself from Crystal's mind.

Avreen's laughter followed his flight.

A
fter the Mother-creator had formed the world, and walked upon it, and given it life, and after she had shaped the Elder Races, Chaos came out of the void and lay with her and She bore him a son. Their son was Death and from that moment onward, all things created began to die.

So terrible was this aspect that Chaos had bestowed upon his son, it was easy to forget Death was also his Mother's child and that nothing died without contributing to life.

*   *   *

“I hope you're still taking care of business while you're moping around, 'cause things'll sure be in a damned mess if you aren't.”

“Go away, dwarf,” Lord Death growled, without turning his head. “I want to be alone.”

“Oh. Alone.” Doan swung out of his pack and leaned it against the wind-scoured rock. Then he clambered up and sat beside the Mother's son. “Tough.”

Lord Death sighed, considered going elsewhere—he had a world to choose from, after all—and stayed where he was. It just didn't seem worth the bother. He turned to face the dwarf, allowing the newly dead to parade across his face. Doan grunted—it might have been satisfaction, Lord Death neither knew nor cared—and he let his features fall back into those of the auburn-haired, amber-eyed young man.

They sat in silence for a while, staring into the purple distance.

They sat in silence for a while longer.

“All right!” Lord Death exclaimed at last, throwing up his hands, unable to stand it any more. “What do you want?”

“Me?” Doan shifted his sword so the scabbard strap didn't bind. “I don't want anything. No, I just thought that if you maybe needed to talk to someone . . .”

“I could talk to you?”

Red fires began to glow in Doan's eyes. “You got a problem with that?”

“You're a dwarf!”

“Yeah. So?”

Lord Death's voice got a little shrill as he pointed out the obvious. “You don't even
have
females!”

The red fires faded and Doan grinned. “Oh. Is that the problem.” He scratched at the back of his neck and settled into a more comfortable position. “I spent a lot of time with mortals over the years and some women don't care how short a man is, long as everything works.”

“But if you don't have female dwarves, how . . . I mean it can't be an urge natural to your kind.”
And I can't believe I'm discussing this,
Lord Death added to himself.

“Well, it's kind of an acquired taste.” Doan thought about it a minute. “Like eating pickled eggs.” His grin broadened into a smile. “'Course, I can't recall any of my brothers having a fondness for pickled eggs either.”

“Look, this is fascinating,” Lord Death desperately wanted to cut off any reminiscences, he didn't think he could handle them, not in his current state of mind, “but I don't need to talk to anyone!”

“No? 'Course, saving mortals isn't exactly normal behavior for you . . .”

Lord Death whirled on him, lips drawn back. “What do
you
know about normal behavior for me?” he snarled.

Doan remained unimpressed by both the snarl and the implied threat. “You seem to forget, I was around long before the Mother-creator presented you to the world.”

“And that gives you the right to judge me?”

“No. But it gives me some grounds for pointing out that you're acting like an ass.”

And Doan sat alone on the rock. He smiled and leaned back, soaking up as much warmth as he could from the winter sun. His breathing began to deepen and his eyes began to close and at first he thought the soft voice belonged to a breeze. When he realized whose it was, spotting a bowed head from the corner of one eye, he allowed himself an inward—and smug—pat on the back, but showed no outward sign.

“. . . but I guess I started to love her when she faced Kraydak in his own tower, knowing that if she lost not even I could take her from Kraydak's grip. Kraydak had a habit of holding on to my people; he drew power from the dead trapped in his walls and I can't bear to think of what he would have done to her. But she won and I asked the dragon to take her home. I remember that it asked me why, and I said I didn't know. I didn't, then. Or I wouldn't admit it.

“I began to watch her. Curiosity about this lastborn wizard, I thought at the time. Do you know what she went through trying to lift Kraydak's yoke from the Empire? People would run from her in fear, or fall on their faces in terror, or worse still, try to squirm their way into her favor so she would toss them scraps as Kraydak had done. They only saw the wizard, not the child who so desperately wanted to help. She wasn't even twenty when it began. Do you remember what it was like to be that young?”

“Huh? Me?”

Lord Death ignored the interruption and continued in the same quiet, almost singsong tone, but Doan, jolted out of somnolence by the question, saw that the angle of Death's cheek had softened and he looked barely out of his teens. “The young die as well as the old, so I know what it's like at that age. How everything cuts, how easy it is to take up the guilt of something you didn't do. Not even the shields the centaurs had given her could stop all the hurting.”

“Shields?” Doan snorted, unable to contain himself. “What shields?”

“Duty and responsibility can be a shield as well as a shackle, dwarf. They've kept her from the path of the ancient ones and, for a while, they
were all that kept her sane. Crystal had been created for one purpose and one purpose only, and no one gave a thought to how she'd feel when that was finished, knowing the world held no place for her. Although I'd give anything to stop it, I'm not surprised she's being torn apart. I'm surprised she's lasted so long.

“Anyway, after she defeated Kraydak, I spent a lot of time watching her. And when I saw how lonely she'd become, I started talking to her, getting to know her. I told myself that the mortal part of her heritage made her my responsibility and so I kept my mind open for other mortals who were worthy of her.” He gave a short bark of bitter laughter. “And we can see how well that worked out.” His voice grew melancholy. “We're unique, Crystal and I. We belong together. I love her so much I can't think of anything else.”

“So tell her.”

“I can't. Not now.”

“You're going to let a mortal stand in your way?”

“No, it's not that . . .”

Doan narrowed his eyes. Was the Mother's son blushing? “What have you done?” he asked, trying not to smile.

Lord Death sat quietly for a moment then the words came out in a rush. “I asked Avreen to make Crystal love me.”

“And Crystal found out?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm,” Doan nodded his head slowly, “I can see how that might put a sword through a relationship. Why didn't you start by asking Avreen what Crystal's feelings were?”

“What?”

Doan sighed. “Read my lips, Mother's son: Crystal's feelings. Why didn't you ask Avreen what they were?”

Lord Death was definitely blushing. “I didn't want to know,” he mumbled. “I wanted to be sure.”

“I am somehow sadly disappointed,” Doan remarked to the world in general, “to find the Mother's son, a divine and immortal being, acting like a mortal youth whose balls have just dropped.”

“Well, I've never been in love before!”

“That's not much of an excuse.”

“If you'd ever been in love . . .”

“I was in love once.” The uneasy silence this time was Doan's as he remembered Milthra, the Lady of the Grove, and all the long years he'd guarded her child, because that was the only thing she could take from him. “And I suppose,” he admitted at last, “it's led me to do some stupid things. But,” he added, just in case Lord Death should get ideas, “nothing as stupid as that. Asked Avreen to make her love you, indeed. And am I to understand when Crystal discovered you mucking about in her head you didn't throw yourself on her mercy and declare your undying,” Doan snorted, “as it were, love?”

“Not exactly. We fought.”

“Brilliant.”

“She started it!” Lord Death rested his fingers against his chest where the touch of Crystal's hands still burned. And she'd finished it as well. “What can I do?”

“Stop worrying about what she feels, and tell her what you feel.”

“I can't.”

“It's the only way to untie the knot you've got yourself in.” Doan's voice was matter-of-fact, but not uncaring. “It's the only way to untie the knot you've got her in. Give her a chance.”

Lord Death looked desperate. “I don't know how,” he whispered, and vanished.

Doan shook his head, suddenly understanding. “No, you wouldn't, would you. You're Death and Death is a surety. There's nothing sure about love.” He got to his feet and stretched the kinks out of his legs. Then he faced the place where Lord Death had been.

“You know how,” he said, “but you're afraid.”

And he thought he heard the breeze sob, “Yes.”

B
ut why won't you tell me what he wanted?

Because it's none of your concern.

None of my concern? What are you talking about, you're a part of ME!

“Crystal, are you all right?” Raulin grabbed her arm as she stumbled and swung her around to face him. He gave her a little shake for her eyes were unfocused and she'd clearly not been watching the trail.

“Huh? Oh, sorry.” Crystal freed enough of her attention from her argument with Avreen to smile sheepishly at Raulin. “I was just, well . . .”

“Talking to yourself?” he finished, maintaining his hold on her shoulders.

She winced a little at his choice of words, for despite what she'd just screamed at Avreen, she didn't consider the goddesses to be a part of her any longer, at least not a part of the
her
that mattered.

“Hey, is everything okay up there?” Jago called from his position at the back of the sleigh. He pushed his snow goggles up on his forehead and peered at Raulin, trying to read his expression. All morning he'd been getting the feeling that Crystal was upset and he hoped it wasn't about something Raulin had done. “Do you guys need to take a break?”

“Crystal?” Raulin asked softly.

“No,” she shook her head and her hair made a dance of the motion. “I'm all right, really.”

Raulin tightened his fingers for an instant, then let her go, half-turning to face his brother. “We're okay.”

Jago looked openly skeptical.

Raulin sighed. “Crystal just lost sight of the trail and tripped.”

“You sure?”

“What?” Raulin spread his arms. “You think I tripped her?”

“Wouldn't be the first time.” Jago ducked the snowball Raulin lobbed at him and added in a loud aside to Sokoji, “Some guys will do anything to get a woman in their arms.”

Sokoji looked interested. “Really?” she asked Raulin.

Raulin flushed a deep red and threw himself forward into the harness. “If we're not taking a break,” he muttered, “let's go.” He tried to ignore Jago explaining mortal relationships to the giant. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Crystal smile. He knew her hearing was better than his, so he assumed she was listening to his brother. He didn't see the smile freeze and her eyes grow distracted again.

He wanted something to do with me, didn't he?

I'm not going to tell you.
Avreen's voice was irritatingly smug.
The Mother's son asked a boon of the goddess. I don't betray those confidences.

You'd betray anything that suited you,
Zarsheiy snorted.

The wizard does have a point,
Tayja's voice, the voice of reason joined in.
You are, as much as any of us, a part of her.

Avreen laughed.
Only because I choose to be.

Ha!

I could leave any time I wanted to.

HA!
Zarsheiy said again, louder.

I stay because I choose to.

Maybe,
murmured a quiet voice.
Maybe not.

You know nothing.
But the words lacked their previous conviction.

Stop it! All of you!
Crystal put power into the command and the quarreling goddesses fell silent, but behind the deepest barrier, darkness stirred.

Careful, little wizard,
Nashawryn sounded amused.
Force our sister to tell you what she knows and you may have to face things you have no desire to.

“Crystal, what is it?”

Raulin's anxious concern snapped her back to the surface. She took a deep breath and motioned for him to keep walking.

“It's nothing, really.”

He looked into her eyes and nodded but wasn't reassured. “It's nothing now,” he allowed, “but a moment ago you seemed terrified. What frightened you?”

Crystal's brow furrowed. What had frightened her? She wasn't sure so she gave him the easy answer, hoping he'd dig no further. “Nashawryn.”

“Oh.” He bent and dragged a protruding branch out of the snow, tossing it clear of the sleigh's path. “Oh,” he said again.

“Don't worry,” Crystal snagged his hand and brought it to her lips, “she can't get through the barriers.” She paused, muttered something unintelligible, and pulled off his mitten.

Raulin laughed, his uneasiness pushed aside by the disgusted way she held the mitten between two fingers and then completely buried by the soft touch of her lips on the back of his hand.

She peered up at him through her lashes and he felt his heart begin to beat faster.

“What do you think you're doing?” he asked, mesmerized by the tip of her tongue as it made a circuit of her mouth.

“I'm using you to chase the bogie-goddess away.”

He clutched at his chest with his free hand, and said, “I feel so cheap.” With a sudden twist of his fingers, he had his harness undone.

Crystal's eyes widened as he unhooked hers as well and in practically the same motion scooped her up in his arms. She hurriedly adjusted her weight as his snowshoes sank a little deeper in the fine powder.

Moving as quickly as the snowshoes allowed, Raulin carried her off the trail, murmuring into her hair, “She's a pretty powerful goddess. It'll take more than a little hand kissing to chase her away.”

“But you'll freeze,” Crystal laughed, settling herself more comfortably.

Raulin kissed her on the nose. “You're a wizard, think of something.”

“Hey!” Jago yelled. “Where do you two think you're going?”

“Never mind,” Raulin called back, neither lessening his pace nor turning his head. “Start lunch.”

“You could make better time,” Sokoji observed as Raulin and Crystal disappeared behind a boulder, “if those two were not together on the harnesses.”

“And if my brother could get a grip on his libido,” Jago grumbled, pulling out the campstove and the teapot. But he wasn't really angry, for he could feel the easing of the tensions Crystal had been under all morning.

*   *   *

After lunch, Sokoji stood, stretched, and pointed almost due north, toward a mountain that looked as if its upper third had been sheared off. “That is the way you must go,” she said, “if you wish to reach Aryalan's tower. Tonight we can be at the pass and tomorrow cross into her valley.”

“Not that I'm saying you're wrong, Elder, but according to frog-face's map, we should be heading for the highest peak in the range.” Raulin came and stood beside the giant, waving his arm in the direction they'd been traveling. “And the highest mountain in the range is that one there.”

“Yes,” Sokoji agreed, “now it is. But the demon had not been to the tower for many years, not since before the Doom. The mountain you point to did not exist then. Aryalan drew it out of the earth to stop the dragon, and this mountain . . .” The giant sighed and shook her head as she gazed at the jutting angles of rock that still looked raw even after more than a thousand years. “We called it the Mighty One, and it became as you see it now during the battle.”

“Are you sure?” Raulin sounded skeptical.

“Mortal, giants are never unsure. It is a skill we have. And besides, when last I went to the tower, that is the route I took.”

“Yeah, a thousand years ago . . .”

Sokoji turned to face him. “No, six winters ago.”

“You were at the tower six winters ago?” Jago moved to stand by Raulin and stared up at the giant. “Why didn't you tell us this before?”

“Didn't I?” Her forehead wrinkled as she recalled all the words she'd spoken to the brothers. “Oh. I didn't. How odd. Never mind, I shall tell you of it now.” She waved a massive hand toward the sleigh. “Perhaps if we could travel while I speak . . . We have little enough daylight this far north to waste any and it will mean we need not hurry later on.”

Raulin and Jago exchanged glances so identically put out that Sokoji smiled. “I have not been keeping knowledge from you. I was quite sure I'd told you.”

“I thought you said giants were never unsure,” Raulin reminded her.

“I did,” Sokoji agreed placidly. “But I did not say we were never mistaken.”

There was a long moment of silence, then Jago started to laugh. Raulin glowered for a moment more then, unable to keep the corners of his mouth from twitching back, joined him. Soon they were bent double and swiping at the tears leaking from their eyes.

Staring at them in fascination, Sokoji walked over to where Crystal leaned against the high back of the sleigh. “Are they hysterical?” she asked.

“No. They're mortals.” Crystal smiled at the two men who were still laughing but were beginning to regain control. “They tend to be a bit extreme.”

The giant cocked one eyebrow in the wizard's direction. “So I noticed this morning.”

Crystal had the grace to blush.

When they moved out, the brothers wore the harnesses while Crystal followed behind, the positions shaking down with an even mix of teasing and threats between Raulin and Jago. Sokoji walked by the front of the sleigh where the mortals could hear her unassisted and where she could use her strength to ease the path.

Although Crystal could've heard a leaf fall back in the Sacred Grove in Ardhan, she missed the start of the giant's story absorbed in watching Raulin and Jago walk. They looked like a cross between bears and ducks in their heavy fur coats and snowshoes. She grinned and gave thanks she had no need for the awkward footgear—her feet sank only as far as she allowed them to—then gave her attention to Sokoji's words.

“. . . and when the storm calmed, the winds told me that the door had been uncovered. I thought on it for some time . . .”

“One year or two?” Raulin asked, unable to help himself.

“Three. Mortals did not come that way, so I had no need to make a hasty decision. In the end, I admit curiosity alone drew me to the tower for watching would have been sufficient; there was no need to explore. Of old, the tower sat in the midst of a lake, perfectly round and created by Aryalan. Lilies bloomed on its surface, swans glided majestically about, and regardless of the season in the lands surrounding it, the lake remained in perpetual high summer. The tower appeared to be a summerhouse, in the old eastern style, very ornate but not overly large. It rested on an island as perfectly round as the lake. The summerhouse was merely the entrance way, the island itself was the tower.”

As Sokoji spoke, her listeners saw the red tiled roofs curving over black lacquer walls, breathed deeply of the exotic flowers, heard the music that played softly from dawn to dusk.

“The Doom destroyed all that, of course, and eventually the wizard as well. Winter, so long denied, moved quickly in to cover both lake and island with ice and snow. When I came at last to view what the storm had uncovered, only memory told me such beauty had ever been.”

Jago sighed and Raulin turned to look at him in surprise.

“You grew up in Kraydak's Empire, Jago. You know how evil the ancient wizards were. How can you be sorry Aryalan's tower got trashed?”

“Beauty is neither good nor evil, brother, it just is.”

“Well, this was beauty no longer,” Sokoji continued as Raulin sputtered. “The lilies, the swans, and the flowers had long since died and of
the summerhouse only a single room remained whole. The residue of power echoed strongly and I felt it recognize me as an intruder.”

“Trapped,” Raulin declared, stepping on the edge of his own snowshoe and almost tripping himself in his excitement.

“Yes,” the giant agreed, reaching out a hand to steady him. “But as I said, only the residue of power remained and it was not enough to hold one of the Elder.” Her voice took on a faint shading of pain. “Although it came closer than I care to remember. In the room's floor is a trapdoor and if you seek treasure you need go no farther, for it is made of ebony and ruby. Enough wealth to enjoy ease the rest of your days.”

“What? In the gatehouse?” Raulin asked incredulously while Jago looked relieved.

“The ancient wizards were fond of gaudy display.”

Crystal remembered the gold-lined room in Kraydak's tower and wondered what his halls had been like when he was at the height of his power.

“Sokoji,” she called. “Did you not lift the door?”

“What difference does it make?” Jago broke in before Sokoji had a chance to answer, praying Crystal hadn't put ideas into Raulin's head. “We won't need to go into the tower itself.”

Raulin, who had a pretty good idea of his brother's thoughts, caught Crystal's eye and winked. “I'm kind of curious myself,” he said blandly. Jago whirled on him, mouth open to deliver a blistering lecture on irresponsibility, when he added, “Not that we'll be entering ourselves. Will we, Jago?”

Jago sputtered in his turn and Raulin punched him gently on the arm.

“Don't worry, little brother, I intend to get rich, not dead.”

Sokoji shook her head. Mortals, it would take much thought to understand them, she decided. “Do not think the gatehouse is without dangers,” she warned. “Less dangerous than the tower does not mean safe, but, yes, I lifted the door. Below it, a massive staircase spiraled down for a distance over twice my height. It, too, had been trapped but the ancient destruction had fortunately rendered all but one
inoperative. That one . . .” She sighed and began again. “That one gave me a small amount of trouble, but in the end I overcame it.”

“Why do I get the feeling we don't want to know what went on?”

Sokoji looked down at Raulin, her brown eyes serious. “It doesn't matter. I will tell you no more than I have.” She chewed on the edge of her lip—something the others had never seen her do—made a visible effort to banish the memory, and continued. “At the bottom of the stairs there stood another door. I didn't open it although I had paid the price.”