The Mage of Trelian (18 page)

He made himself stop. Seven days.

He spelled the crow and sent it on its way, giving it as much extra speed as he thought would be safe. He didn’t want to give the bird more speed than it could handle. But it was hard to hold back.

Calen tried to act as though nothing were different. He had his private lessons, then group lessons. He ate meals with the others in the dining hall; half the tables were full now when they were all there together. He practiced with Helena and tried not to think about whether she would try to kiss him again. That had been . . . confusing. Best to just pretend it had never happened.

She seemed to feel the same way, as far as he could tell.

So, good. That was good.

He thought he’d been doing a decent job of behaving normally, but Helena stopped him as he started back to his room after practice.

“Calen,” she said.

He stopped and turned around. They had already said good night; he was surprised to see her still standing where she’d been when he’d first turned to leave.

“What is it?”

She only stood there for a minute, not speaking. Then she came toward him, and he froze, wondering if she was going to kiss him.

She did throw her arms around him, but she only hugged him close. Then she whispered in his ear. “If you’re leaving, take me with you?”

He tried to pull away, but she held him fast.

“I — I’m not —” He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want to lie. But he couldn’t take her with him. Could he?

Could he?

He pushed her a little away from him, but only far enough to look at her. To look her in the eyes.

Could it be a trick? He thought of the way she’d promised Mage Krelig her first loyalty. But then, they all had. You had to, to survive here. He’d done a lot of things to survive here. Done things he wasn’t proud of. Said things that weren’t true.

She looked back at him, her eyes shining. With tears? Because he was leaving? Or because he might leave her behind? Or because she was about to betray him?

No. He didn’t believe that. Maybe it was foolish. . . . It was almost certainly foolish . . . but he trusted her.

And really, there was no reason he couldn’t take her with him. One more mage who knew Krelig’s secrets — she could be an asset. At the very least, it would mean one less mage to fight against them. And she knew Calen, knew how he fought and what his strengths and weaknesses were, and if he left her here . . .

He pulled her close to him, so he could whisper in her ear. He supposed they were being careful in case anyone was watching. Or listening. But he didn’t mind the closeness so much just for itself.

“I don’t know for certain if it will work,” he whispered. “But I can try.”

“Please,” she said, pulling him closer. “Please.”

They stood there for a little while longer. And then she abruptly pulled away, wiping her eyes. “See you tomorrow,” she said in a lighter voice. “I’m definitely going to block that fire-arrow spell next time!”

“I’ll believe that when I see it!” he answered in the same tone.

After another second, they both turned and walked in opposite directions.

Calen hoped he hadn’t made a terrible, terrible mistake.

P
RINCESS . . .

Someone’s voice, calling her in the darkness. Calen? No, not Calen. He was too far away. He had left her.

She felt Jakl calling her, too. He never called her Princess, though. He didn’t exactly
call
her anything. There was just a feeling that meant
her,
that he connected only with her. He was sending that feeling now, wanting her to come back.

I’m trying,
she thought at him. And she was. But everything was so dark. She couldn’t tell where she was, or which way to go.

Jakl seemed to feel her trying, seemed to be reaching back toward her. She went to where she could feel him. It was like standing outside with your eyes closed, feeling the sun shining on your face. She moved toward the warmth of him, that feeling of
her
that he was sending so fiercely. She followed that feeling, pulled herself along it like a rope. It got easier, lighter, as she got closer. She could feel him pouring his strength into her, making her stronger, making her able to find her way back, until . . .

She blinked, and the world started to come into hazy focus around her. At first all she could see was an enormous green shape carving out a space against the sky, but she knew who that was, of course. Jakl hovered over her — no, around her — no, both. He was coiled around her as much as his size would allow, his head bent down to be just inches away from her own. When he realized that she was awake, he blew out a hot, snorty breath that lifted her hair back from her face and made her laugh despite the pain.

“Yes, hello,” she said, half whispering, half croaking, trying to reach out and stroke his worried face. “I’m here, I’m okay.” Her arm didn’t seem to want to do what she told it, though.

“Princess! Thank the gods.” It was Captain Varyn, a bloody bandage wrapped around his head. He leaned closer to her, fending off a persistent medic’s assistant who seemed to be trying to put more bandages on him. “Are you all right? Are you really back with us?”

“Yes,” she managed. It was hard to talk. “Hurts, though.”

“Don’t try to talk,” he said at once.

She glared at him, or tried to.
You asked me a question!
But she didn’t try to say it out loud.

A tall woman with a white medic’s sash pushed Captain Varyn firmly back in his chair, then turned toward Meg. “The difficult captain is right, Princess. You shouldn’t try to talk. You’ve been injured. Your shoulder was badly burned, and we’ve immobilized your arms and chest to help prevent further pain or injury. You were grazed by one of those fireballs, and then you took an arrow in the leg on your way down. Your throat, I believe, is only hoarse from screaming, and maybe a little from the smoke. Your right ear was very slightly scorched, but the shoulder took most of the fire’s damage.”

Meg nodded slightly, grateful that the woman was giving her the information she would have been asking for if she could. Some of it, anyway. She looked at Jakl.
Did you catch me before I hit the ground?
He must have. Surely she would be dead otherwise.

Yes,
he thought at her, but hesitantly. After a moment he added something that felt like:
Just.

The medic looked back and forth at Meg and Jakl. The dragon hadn’t moved an inch to make room for anyone else to get closer to her, although at some point he must have allowed them close enough to treat her wounds.

“Your dragon saved your life,” the medic said. “He caught you just before you would have been lost to us. Not gently, but then, I don’t suppose he had much choice at that point. He broke your arm in the process —” A flood of shame and sorrow flowed from the dragon through the link. The medic seemed to guess something of this; she placed a hesitant hand on Jakl’s neck. “A small price to pay, Sir Dragon,” she said. “You saved your lady, and then you saved us all.”

What does that mean?
Meg thought at him. Strangely, the shame flared up again, though less intensely than before.

Well, if he wasn’t going to tell her . . . “What — what did —?”

“Please, Princess,” the medic said. “I’m sure the captain will tell you everything, but first you must rest.”

Meg tried to protest, but someone held a cup of sweet liquid to her lips, and then everything went fuzzy and dark again. But it was a different dark from last time. Sleep. Not — not whatever that had been before. And she could feel her dragon there with her. That was enough. She stopped trying to resist and let herself go into the darkness.

The next time she woke, she was in a large tent, on a cot. More cots filled the rest of the space, with other wounded people in them — some sleeping, some talking, some moaning, some crying. Many faces were unfamiliar to her. The white-sashed medics and their assistants moved quickly and efficiently among them. Jakl wasn’t inside the tent, but she could feel him just outside, so that was all right. She still hurt, but she thought that perhaps the pain was a little less than it had been before. She caught the eye of a passing assistant, who gave her some water. After she drank, her throat felt much better. She handed back the cup and asked him to send for Captain Varyn.

The captain appeared shortly thereafter. He pulled up a chair beside her, looking much better than when she’d seen him last. She wondered suddenly how long she’d been asleep.

“You gave us quite a scare,” he said. “I was not relishing the idea of having to tell your parents I’d gotten you killed.”

“What happened?” Meg asked. She had so many questions, but that one covered the most ground.

Captain Varyn gave a strange little laugh and ran his hand through his hair, wincing when he grazed the bandage. It had been changed since she’d last seen it; there wasn’t any blood oozing through it now. “What happened,” he repeated. “Quite a bit. It’s hard to know where to start.”

“Did we win?”

Now he laughed outright, heartily if not for very long. “All right, sure. That’s a good place to start.” He grinned at her. “Yes, Princess. We won. We cleared the pass. Kragnir soldiers were fighting through from the other side, and soon after . . . uh, after . . . well, they finally broke through and came streaming out against the enemy like a swarm of angry bees. It was glorious. Most of them are already well on their way toward Trelian now. I sent most of the rest of our company — everyone except the injured and a few others — riding ahead to give the king and queen and commander the news.”

Meg closed her eyes for a moment, overcome with relief. She hadn’t ruined everything. She’d been afraid . . . but then . . .

“But . . . how? We still hadn’t destroyed the last catapult, and then I was hit. . . .”

“We almost had them by then,” the captain said. “You and your dragon were magnificent, Your Highness. They were scrambling, making mistakes, and my men were getting the better of them. They couldn’t take their eyes off you for more than a second, and that combined with your destruction of the catapults — well, they couldn’t organize themselves to defend against us. Not while maintaining their hold on the pass. We were waiting for that last one to go up; it seemed about to happen, and then the dragon screamed, and we realized that you were falling. Everything stopped at that point. Everything. Both sides — we just stood there, watching. Transfixed.

“I’ll tell you, it didn’t seem possible that he would catch you in time. And there was nothing we could do — there was no way to help or even to get something to soften your landing. So we watched, and waited, and prayed. I prayed, anyway, and I’m certain I was not the only one. The dragon shot through the air like an arrow, straight down, racing you to the earth. And at what had to be the last possible moment, he grabbed you. Grabbed your arm in his jaws and sort of swung you up and away and then caught you again — it was mostly a blur, to tell you the truth, but the one thing that was clear was that you were still alive. You were screaming bloody murder as he laid you gently down on the ground.”

Meg tried to call up some memory of this, but there was nothing there. She looked at Varyn quizzically. “But then — the pass was still blocked. How did we win? They could have . . .”

“The dragon,” Varyn said. “He . . . well, he went a little crazy up there, I’d say. He was gentle as a lamb with you, bringing you down to us, but once he saw you were safe . . . I’ve never heard a sound like the scream he gave as he launched back into the air. He had that last catapult in flames before anyone could even react, and he set most of the men around it on fire as well. And then . . . and then he was everywhere. Raging, screaming, breathing fire — it was clear that he was ready to burn every last one of them to a crisp for hurting you, and they knew it. Lourin soldiers starting throwing their weapons to the ground and dropping to their knees. A few at first, and then the rest of them, faster and faster. He didn’t hurt anyone who laid down their weapons, Your Highness. I feel you should know that. He killed a good number of the enemy, but only those who stood and fought against him. And not nearly so many as he could have. And once the rest of them threw down their arms, he came back to where you were and would not leave your side. That’s why we had to have the medics treat you out in the field. He wouldn’t allow us to move you. Not until after you woke up.”

Meg took this in silently. That was what the shame was about: that he had lost control, that he had unleashed himself upon the enemy after they’d hurt her. He thought she would be angry. But how could she be? He’d only been reacting to what they’d done. And he’d accomplished their goal. Accomplished it even without her there to ask him. And he hadn’t lost control completely. Even after she left him there alone. He had nothing to be ashamed of.

She tried to send her reassurance through the link.
It’s all right,
she thought at him.
I understand. And you did well. You did so very well.

And he had. She couldn’t bring herself to feel happy that he’d killed anyone, even enemy soldiers . . . but as Captain Varyn had said: this was war. And Jakl had made sure that the fighting here hadn’t been in vain. And now Kragnir would be able to help them defeat the rest of the enemy back home. Home. Where she needed to be, because —