Circle of Thieves: Legends of Dimmingwood (2 page)

Chapter
Two

As months, and then seasons, slipped by, I became so
absorbed in my growing talent as a Natural magicker that I forgot anything
outside my training existed.

Except for the bow. I could never quite forget that. Despite
Hadrian’s urging, I never parted with it. In fact, a growing conviction told me
I couldn’t be rid of it even if I wanted to. It had somehow become inextricably
tied to my talent. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact I had it in my
possession during the period when my magic grew strongest within me. Or was it
the bow that began this new growth, I wondered. Either way, I found that my
talent functioned at its strongest when I carried the enchanted weapon with me.
For that matter, I functioned best with it near also.

Terrac was one of the things I set aside in my mind during
this time of new growth and learning. I was vaguely aware his betrayal had
struck something deeper in me than the loss of a mere friend. But I was
incapable of untangling the emotional knot he had twisted my feelings into, and
I didn’t attempt to do so for long. I told myself I needed to accept that his
choice was made, and moreover, that it was nothing I could change. I would
always think of the boy priest he had been with a touch of fondness, but I had
to move away from the past. I needed to keep my mind clear and free of
distraction if I was to progress in the things Hadrian had to teach me.

Unfortunately that meant putting aside thoughts of home and
the band as well, something I found increasingly hard to do.

But if anything could take my mind away from Dimmingwood for
a while it was the Natural talent. Once I had thought of magic as only an extra
sense, a small bit of skill I could use to help me through the day. It had
become so much more than that now. As my knowledge grew and my talent
strengthened upon frequent exercise, just as Hadrian had assured me it would, I
reveled in a new sense of strength I had never known before. It wasn’t lust for
power or anything so primitive that drove me on in my studies, but a simple
thirst to know my skill.

Daily, Hadrian poured so much information into my eager mind
that I struggled to absorb it all. His understanding of the talent was a thing
it had taken him a life time to collect, especially as he’d had to work
discreetly in the years since public opinion had turned against magic, and it
was no longer safe to declare oneself a magicker.

The priest struggled to pour his knowledge into me over a
short amount of time, even while admitting a full understanding would take many
years to accomplish. We didn’t speak of it, but I sensed we both realized we
would not have those years. Somehow we knew my days in this place were
numbered, and maybe that was why Hadrian labored to teach me so much so fast.

A particular exercise we did often was for the priest to
float out over the lake on one of the smaller rafts, leaving me behind to try
to pick up the ideas and emotions he projected at me from farther and farther
distances. This, he said, would strengthen my range.

For an exercise in accuracy, he would get off on one of the
barges, and I would be left to find my way to his hiding place, much like a dog
sniffing out a hare. I excelled at both exercises. All I needed was to know the
essence of a particular person well, and I could attune my mind so closely to
that person that it seemed enough distance could not be put between us to keep
me from picking up the trail.

But there was one practice we tried only once. Ever since
the Praetor had attacked my mind that day in the city, Hadrian had become
convinced one of the skills I most desperately needed to practice was that of
building and strengthening my mental barriers to keep out similar intrusions in
the future.

There was a trick he taught me of imagining myself in a
small safe space surrounded by strong walls. I was to take any part of my mind
I preferred to keep to myself and place it within these barriers. I closed my
eyes and pictured the tunnel I had been trapped in once at Boulder’s Cradle. It
was hardly my idea of a safe place, but it was walled tightly, and I supposed
the walls kept me safe from the outside world. Hadrian told me he was going to
try to penetrate my mental barrier, and I was to try with all my strength to
keep him out.

I nodded and concentrated on feeling the closeness of the
stone tunnel squeezing in around me. I felt his first light probing against my
senses and immediately coiled them tighter within me, instinctively emitting as
I did so, a faint trickle of defensive magic to flow through the surrounding
stone. I quickly set to work strengthening that stone, fortifying it with more
magic, feeling out the wall for holes and cracks, weak points of any kind.
Wherever I found them, I poured magic in, spreading it through the fissures,
allowing it to creep up and up until I had built a second inner wall around the
stone one comprised entirely of magic. Satisfied, I settled in to wait. I could
feel his magic passing over mine like light fingers brushing over the smooth
wall, searching for another way in. He wouldn’t find one, I told myself, but
even so I watched his progress warily.

The moments passed and then suddenly he was gone. I couldn’t
feel his presence anymore. He had given up and left. Now that I was alone, I
became aware of the tightness of the walls pressing in on me. The rough rock
weighed down on my back and I was pinned so tightly between the walls I
couldn’t move my arms at my sides. In fact, the rock pressed from all sides so
unyieldingly into my ribs I could hardly breathe. I panicked, wanting to drop
away the walls I had built for protection but which now held me prisoner. But I
couldn’t remember how.

Fear-sweat trickled into my eyes and the rasping of my
breath echoed around me. I opened my mouth to scream, to beg for somebody, anybody,
to help me. But at that moment, I became aware of another presence approaching
the other side of the wall. It seemed impossible that he should find me here,
but it couldn’t be anyone else.

“Terrac!” I shouted. “Terrac, get me out of here! I’m trapped!”

I knew he heard me. I could feel him immediately begin to
tear at the walls, seeking a way to reach me. Realizing my magical barrier was
keeping him out, I gathered enough control over my frantic wits to drop the
barrier.

I was immediately aware of my mistake. It was no longer
Terrac coming to rescue me, but a foreign presence seeping its way through my
foolishly lowered defense. I struggled to raise the magical wall again, but it
was too late. I had already lost control of the magic, and the alien intruder
had seized hold of the barrier and held it fast, preventing me from drawing it
closed again.

Defeat washed over me, and in that moment, I felt a third
presence, one that had been tucked away inside my head all along, lying so
still and secret I had hardly been aware of it until this moment. It stirred to
wakefulness now, whispering voiceless words into my head, orders I didn’t
understand but which I obeyed. I concentrated on what I wanted to do, and
suddenly the tunnel around me began expanding. The roof and walls widened until
I could wriggle my way to my feet to stand.

Now I could breathe freely and move my arms about without
brushing the walls; I instinctively knew what to do. I braced my feet, even as
the bow materialized in my hands. Drawing back the shaft already notched, I
fired the arrow into the darkness, knowing it would find its own target. Not
until the very instant it struck did I realize who that target was…

Hadrian did not awake for three days, and when he did, it
was only by the skills of one of the magic-bearing healers Seephinia called
from among the river folk. His recovery was slow, but once he was able to get
back on his feet it was clear he had suffered no lasting damage. He said he
owed his life to the quick skill of the river healer, and I have no doubt he
was right.

We never spoke of the incident again; although I would have
liked to know how he had managed his sly disguise as Terrac that had so easily
convinced me to let down my guard. But it wasn’t worth asking, because if it was
brought up, he might ask what had gone wrong when I defeated him. There was no
knowing how much he knew about what had gone on within my walls, but surely he
at least suspected the bow was involved. In light of the opinion he already had
of the bow, it seemed best not to admit the truth.

Besides, it was a truth I wasn’t sure I was comfortable
with. The bow had never spoken to me so clearly, had never forced its way into
my mind so fully. Although a voiceless whisper in the dark recesses of my mind
assured me it had acted for my protection, a more rational thought kept pushing
its way to the forefront. I hadn’t known what I was doing during those moments
of panic, hadn’t known it was Hadrian I was firing at. But the bow knew
everything, and it had wanted my priest friend dead.

Shortly after that incident came the day when I awoke to
find the first of winter’s chill in the air. I lay awake and looked up at the
dry thatched ceiling overhead and knew I had stayed away from home too long.
Had it really been over a year? The time had flown by. Back in Dimmingwood, the
trees would be shedding the last of their golden leaves, the forest creatures
would be crawling off into warm dens to hide from the coming snows, and our
band would be settling in for a long winter. I hoped they had organized
themselves sufficiently after the last Fist attack to be prepared to face the
cold season when food and work were always at their scarcest. Had they found a
safe shelter to wait out the harsh days of snow and sleet to come, or were they
still camped where I had last seen them?

With these concerns, the high hopes and good intentions I’d
formed toward my magic studies slid away from me like the after remnants of a
dream. A warm and pleasant fantasy but one I needed to exchange for the cold
heart of reality. I had been selfish to stay this long, exploring my talent and
granting myself healing time after the loss of Terrac and Brig so close
together. It was time to remember the needs of the band.

I scrambled out of bed and searched around in the pale
morning light until I found my clothes. I dressed hastily and quietly packed
together my belongings, mindful the rest of the house was still asleep. I had
collected a few new possessions since my arrival here, most of them gifts from
Hadrian, but tossed together, they still made a small bundle when rolled up
inside a blanket and tied to my back.

I slipped the bow over my shoulder, and we momentarily
shared a ripple of excitement at the prospect of home. I shouldered the quiver
of arrows I had recently procured from a trader in the city and gathered the
knives Fleet had supplied to replace my old ones. Binding on my wrist sheaths
and sliding the knives into place, I experienced the odd sense of doing
something I was no longer accustomed to. Back in Dimming I had worn the sheaths
every day, but now they felt unfamiliar.

I shook myself. Never mind, it would take a little time, but
I’d become accustomed to them again.

After striding to the door, I poked my head out the flap. It
was a dreary morning, and the gray sky promised the kind of light drizzle that
comes and goes. Not auspicious for a journey, but I wasn’t going to be turned
back so easily. I’d walked in the rain before.

Still, I hesitated inside the doorway. It didn’t feel right
leaving without some sort of explanation to the priest. I at least owed him a
thanks and the promise of a future visit. But I feared if I waited, Hadrian
would try and persuade me to stay. My resolve was unshakeable, but I dreaded
the uncomfortable conversation. Although we had never spoken of it, I was aware
the priest had set his mind on saving me from my lawless roots and setting my
feet on an upright path for the future.

I was about to disappoint him. With a shake of my head, I
took myself outside. Restraining my impatience, I walked the deck and watched
as a gray shrouded sun rose over the waters. The lake was shadowy today,
mirroring the gloom of the skies, and a thin fog swirled about my ankles as I
paced in the brisk morning air. I inhaled the mingled scents of fish and
lake-weed and felt invigorated. I was going home.

I lingered just a little longer looking out into the morning
mists where the trout and little turtles disturbed the still surface of the
lake. I would miss this quiet place and time.

I was brought out of my meditation by the sound of soft
footsteps approaching from behind. I kept my face toward the water but was
aware of Hadrian’s presence, and I didn’t startle when his large hand came to
rest on my shoulder.

“So this is it,” he observed.

He didn’t waste time on irrelevant questions, since I was
obviously wearing all my possessions on my back. More than that, he surely
sensed my anticipation as clearly as I felt his disappointment.

“I haven’t set eyes on Dimmingwood for far too long,” I said
lightly. “I never thought I could hunger for the sight of a tree. Not one of
those pretty little shadeless things they keep in the city gardens, but a great
elder tree towering over the forest.”

Hadrian said, “Your forest will always be there, should you
choose to return to it, but I was hoping you would consider another kind of
life. I thought my teachings were getting through to you. I understand you have
friends out there and that world contains the only way of life you’ve ever
known—”

I interrupted him. “It is my life. The threads are just
waiting to be picked up again.”

“I wasn’t aware your existence had come to a halt when you
came to study with me,” he said.

“I’m sorry Hadrian. Truly I am grateful for all you’ve done
for me, but this is something I can’t walk away from. Dimming calls to me.”

“A call you cannot refuse to answer?” he countered. “Would
it be so unthinkable to chart a new course? I know following old ways can seem
safer than questioning them—”