The Fire Mages' Daughter (42 page)

Down we went. The stairs were narrow, with no room for anyone to help support me, and I stumbled more than once, but I bounced off something invisible, like a flexible wall, and didn’t fall. Mother, I guessed.

Finally at the bottom. No energy. Couldn’t walk. So much pain in my head. They led me forward again. Ly’s mind was beating against mine so hard I could barely stand. My resistance was crumbling. I couldn’t shut him out any longer. At any moment, the raging torrent of his emotions would sweep me away and I would be lost.

Then a door, and a moment’s anxious discussion between Mother and Cal. A click. The door opened.

There he was, crouched in a corner on all fours like an animal, growling and snarling at me. He slithered towards me, teeth bared. And at last – his magic was clear to me.

But I couldn’t… no strength… too much pain. Yet I had to. Not for me. For Bennamore. But mostly to save Arran. One final effort.

And I reached for his magic and took it all.

From one extreme to the other. From being on the point of collapse, now I was full – beyond full – of magical energy. It pulsed inside me like a living thing, howling through my body and setting me on fire. But it was familiar to me now, and I could control it. I would not allow myself to collapse.

Ly’s head shot up, his face astonished. But peaceful. All the tumult inside him was gone. “Princess,” he whispered. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

We were in a high-roofed cellar, one wall lined with empty racks where barrels had once sat. A single sputtering oil lamp on the floor cast a hazy light around Ly, but otherwise all was in darkness.

Ly leaned his head back against the stone wall and closed his eyes, his breath rasping. His face was so thin and pale, he looked dreadfully ill. A sparse, wispy beard clung to his chin. His clothes hung loosely from spindly shoulders. He’d always been skinny, but now he was barely there at all.

Mother bustled across to him. “Poor boy,” she murmured, taking one of his hands in hers. It rested skeletally in her pudgy fingers. “There. Is that better?”

For answer, he opened his eyes and smiled at her, glancing up at the mage mark on her forehead. “Thank you, kind mage. Much better.” His voice was stronger.

“Good,” Cal said. “So let’s—”

A golden blur erupted from the darkness with an ear-splitting roar that rolled around and bounced off the stone walls. Cal and I both screamed and scrabbled backwards as a massive shape leapt towards us. All I saw was its mouth, the huge fangs dripping with blood.

And in a single instant, it was transformed into ash, fluttering to the ground in front of us like snow.

“Kyra?” Cal gasped.

She clicked her tongue. “It’s a good job one of us remembered Drina mentioning a lion.”

I burst out laughing, shock and relief blending into hysteria. My mother was too amazing for words.

“Any more surprises for us?” Cal said sharply to Ly. He shook his head, but Cal said, “Speak!”

“No.” A whisper, then, more strongly, “No. Nothing else.”

Cal nodded, satisfied. He could tell that he wasn’t lying.

Ly struggled to his feet, turning to face me. “I wish to say how sorry I am,” he said quietly, swaying a little. “For everything. I want you to know that, Princess. And now I hope you will do it quickly.”

“Do what quickly?” So much magic filling my head with clouds and making me stupid.

“Kill me, of course.”

“No more killing,” Mother said crisply. “Hasn’t there been enough already?”

“But I deserve to die!” he burst out, still speaking to me. “I am an abomination. You must see that!”

My mind wouldn’t focus. Ly’s magic churned through me, blocking any coherent thought. They were all watching me, waiting for me to decide his fate, but my brain was numb and my tongue felt swollen, as if it didn’t belong to me at all. I wobbled, almost tipped over, found myself leaning against the wall.

But it wasn’t right, to kill him in cold blood.

“No.” The word was a stone in my mouth.

Ly made a strangled sound in his throat, and dropped to his knees. Then, astonishingly, he began to cry.

“Poor boy,” Mother said. “He is not very impressive for a god.”

Cal and Mother moved about, discussing something, but their voices buzzed in my head like insects, distant, droning. They found metal from somewhere, and Mother began fashioning it into some kind of chain. Another piece of metal became a ring fixed to the wall. Then a wristband for Ly, and within moments he was securely restrained.

I slid down the wall, landing with a thump on my bottom. That made me giggle.

“Drina,” Cal said, crouching down beside me. “We have to check out the rest of the tower and make sure it’s safe. Will you be all right if we leave you here for a while, to recover? He can’t touch you, not from away over there, and your mother’s put a restraining spell on him. You can sleep for a while, if you want. Here, there are blankets in the pack.” He pulled one out. “And food and water, if you need it. Just rest, all right? Don’t wander about. We’ll be back in an hour.”

Perhaps I nodded off, because suddenly, as it seemed, Mother and Cal were gone. The cellar was profoundly silent. Ly had stopped crying, and his breathing was too low to hear. But his eyes, huge in his thin face, were fixed on me.

The first overwhelming effects of such a massive influx of magic were wearing off a little. I began to feel energised. Demons, I wished Arran were there. How I needed him! I’d forgotten about that part of it. And he was only at the fortress, not an hour’s walk away, and no time at all if I flew. I jumped up, calling to Sunshine, but there was no response. Sleeping, no doubt. I called more strongly, and caught a hint of her consciousness before she sank back into sleep.

Perhaps it was just as well. I’d look very foolish if I arrived at the fortress in the aftermath of battle, panting for some bedplay. That would look wonderful, the war leader unable to control her own desires. And what if Arran were injured, or worse? I might jump on some random stranger.

No, better here where there were no temptations. I needed to concentrate. Breathe in. Breathe out. Be calm. The magic would wear off, in time. Focus on something else.

“Princess.”

I spun round. I’d forgotten about Ly.

“Princess, are you all right?” He was standing not five paces from me, at the limit of his chain, his face a picture of anxious concern. “You look… agitated.”

Agitated. Interesting word for it. “I’m full of your magic, Ly. I… it makes me restless.” Restless. Another good word. More accurate to say that it made me burn up with desire. It ate me from the inside until I gave in to its cravings. Gods, I was weak, and foolish, and powerless to resist. I paced across the cellar and back, across and back, and each time I was a little closer to him. Even though a part of me hated myself for it, and knew I would regret it, I couldn’t help myself.

When I was near enough, I stopped and waited for my doom. He hesitated at first, uncertain how I would react. But he couldn’t resist, either. He lifted his free hand to my face and ran one finger down my cheek as softly as a moonrose petal, and I closed my eyes and surrendered myself utterly to him. And by all the gods, it was amazingly good.

Afterwards I curled into a miserable ball, as far from Ly as I could get, and wept for my weakness, and for Arran.

~~~~~

I must have slept a little, for the next thing I knew, Cal and Mother were back, faces flushed, holding hands like children.

“What’s going on with you two?” I said, narrowing my eyes in suspicion.

Mother giggled. “We’ve just been topping up our magic, dear.”

“Topping up—? What—?”

“This place is a scribery,” Cal said. “One of the missing ones. We always knew there were more, but no one had any idea where they were. This is a wonderful discovery! We need to build a town here, to make use of it.”

“So there’s a pillar full of magic? May I see it?”

“No!” Mother said sharply. “Drina, can you imagine what would happen if you got anywhere near such a powerful source of magic? You’d try to suck it all in, and… well, you’d probably explode. No, really, you mustn’t.”

I could see the sense in that. But at least it explained the hand-holding, and a certain disorder in their clothing, now that I was paying attention. They’d taken in a large amount of magic, and it had had the inevitable effect. So they’d been doing the same as Ly and me.

“You look better, Drina,” Cal said. “Have you had some sleep?”

I avoided his eyes. “A little.” He grunted, but said nothing more. He must have guessed what had happened, and perhaps he’d intended it all along, knowing how the magic would take me.

“Well, it’s getting dark already, so I’m afraid we’re going to have to stay here for tonight.”

“No! I have to get to Arran. To the fortress. I need to know…”

He stroked my hand, sympathetic. “I understand, petal, but not tonight. All those beasts and riders have been released from any control. They’ll be wandering all over the place, heading home. You slept through the last time, but believe me, you don’t want to be out there. We’re safe here, and we still have plenty of dried meat and cheese, enough for the prisoner as well.”

Ly leaned forward eagerly. “I can do better than that, if… if you permit, kind mage.”

Cal frowned. “What did you have in mind?”

“A hot meal. Something fresh.”

I perked up. “Will it be that yellow fish that you cooked on your island, the stuffed one?”

His face lit up like a lamp. “You enjoyed that.”

“I did. Oh, but there are no fish here. The water is bad. Isn’t that what you said?”

He flushed. “The water is
not
bad. And there are fish, not like the emperor fish, but good tasting.”

I squeaked in outrage. “So when you told me—”

“That was a lie, yes.” He lowered his eyes. “To keep your people away from this island. I have told you many lies, Princess. I am sorry for it. But no more. Eat tonight with me, and I will show you why I approached your country for help, why I wanted your mages to come here. Will you do this?”

I looked at Cal. “No tricks. You are still our prisoner,” he said.

He held his hands up in surrender, the chain rattling. “No tricks.”

Cal nodded. “He’s being honest with us now, anyway. But it’s up to you, Drina.”

“If we have to stay here, then yes. He’s a good cook.”

Ly beamed at me.

Mother refashioned the chain and wall-ring into a pair of heavy manacles for his wrists, with just a short chain between them. “There. Now, I won’t bind your legs if you promise to behave well.”

“I promise.” He made a respectful gesture, touching one hand to his forehead, although the weight of the manacle made it an effort for him.

She nodded. “Very well, then. Lead the way. Cal, we may need the lamp.”

Ly looked around, as if unsure, until Cal pointed to the door, with the stairs beyond. Poor Ly. He’d been there for so long, sunk in his magic, that he barely knew his surroundings. His steps unsteady, he made his way to the foot of the stairs and began to climb. Every step was a struggle for him. His own withered muscles, combined with the heavy manacles, made him painfully slow. But he made no complaint, and reached the top without needing to rest.

Now it was easier, for the passage was wide enough for me to walk alongside him. He smiled at me, then shyly reached for my hand.

“Is this acceptable, Princess?” he whispered. “I would not presume…”

“It’s all right.” If it kept him happy, I didn’t object to holding his hand.

To tell the truth, despite all the horrors he’d inflicted on us, I bore him no ill will. We had started the war, after all. I could hardly blame him for fighting back. And Ly himself was not evil. The quiet, thoughtful man who preferred to live in solitude and enjoyed spending hours cooking fish, that was someone I could like very well. Already liked, I realised. I had no quarrel with him.

So I held his hand as we walked along, and from time to time he lifted his head and looked at me with a little smile on his lips, before blushing and looking away again. I suppose he thought we were lovers. Well, he was wrong about that, despite the past. Friends, perhaps. Yes, I’d say he was a friend, of sorts, one I might take advantage of, when I needed to. But nothing more, as he would find out soon enough.

Our footsteps echoed hollowly as we walked through the empty rooms – sitting rooms, a library, store rooms, a kitchen. Upstairs would be bedrooms, and the scribing rooms. A scribery. Once this place had been filled with mages and scribes, scuttling about on their important spell-making business, eating and laughing together, arguing about whose turn it was to top up the ink bottles, loving and sleeping and dreaming. All of them turned to dust now.

We turned into a side passage. After a short distance, it made a sharp turn, then continued on, but Ly stopped, looking searchingly at the wall. It looked completely blank to me, with not a sign of a door anywhere, but Ly placed one hand flat against it. Nothing happened.

“Oh.” His face was a picture of bewilderment.

“Your magic has gone,” Mother said.

He looked so crestfallen I thought he might cry again. “Of course,” he murmured, lowering his head. “And I do not have my pendant.”

“Pendant?” I said. “Oh, the amber necklace?”

“Yes. It opens the door. My mother has it now. So she can bring me food.”

Mother squeezed past us and placed her hand on the wall. There was an audible click, and a door opened a crack. A narrow beam of light pierced the gloom. “There. Now we can go through.”

“Interesting,” Cal said. “I wonder if all the scriberies have a hidden door like this one.”

Ly pushed the door fully open, panting with the effort, and led us through into another corridor. It could not have been more different. After the dark stone walls and bare rooms, we were bathed in light, glowing softly from all around us, walls, ceiling and floor.

The walls were inlaid with carved wooden panels. Dragons. Always dragons. Our long-dead ancestors had had a terrible obsession with them. The panels all depicted men riding the great beasts. No, there were women, too. Some of the beasts carried several people on their backs, in complicated arrangements of baskets and straps. Very strange. The scholars said that the dragons were all dead, but there were some amongst the coastal folk to the south who claimed to have seen them. I liked to think that somewhere in this extraordinary world of ours there still existed a remote corner where they lived on.