Wizard of the Grove (24 page)

He plucked it easily from the air, turned it into a dove, and crushed the life from the bird with one immaculately manicured hand. He never stopped smiling.

Crystal hadn't expected it to work, but she had to try. Unfortunately, that used up just about all she had left. Where was the dragon?

“You're dripping on the carpet,” Kraydak chided her. He waved his hand and she was warm and dry in a gown of green silk that dipped and clung to her body. Her hair floated around her like a silver-white
cloud. His smile changed slightly and he licked his lips. His expression reminded Crystal of the demon on the door.

Crystal could only watch as her feet carried her within his reach.

He wrapped a hand possessively around her throat and she shuddered.

“It's been lonely for me these last thousand years. You don't know what it's like to be the only one of your kind, always alone.” His smile saddened. “Of course, if you'd managed to kill me, you would've found out. But you can't kill me and, fortunately for us both, I have no need to kill you. Yet. When I do . . .” He shrugged. “Well, I am used to being lonely.”

The hand around her throat was the hand he'd used to crush the bird. It was sticky with blood.

“You have lovely skin,” he murmured against her cheek.

His hand began to stroke her throat and it caught on the silver chain. He drew it tight, so that the links began to cut into the back of her neck.

“Very pretty,” he said, lifting the opal to admire it. “Dwarf work, isn't it? I never had much to do with the Elder Races. Perhaps I should remedy that when the novelty of your company wears thin.”

Where was the . . .

“What?” Kraydak raised an eyebrow in inquiry. “Why don't you tell me what you're waiting for? Not dwarves, surely? Don't tell me you've recruited the Elder to your cause.”

The Elder . . . Crystal concentrated what little strength she had left on forming the image of C'Tal in her mind, the great black body, the flowing hair and beard, each pompous and pedantic utterance she'd been forced to endure for six long years.

Kraydak easily brushed it aside. “A good likeness, little one, but you can't hope to block me with something I know far better than you. The centaurs taught all the wizards. It's what they do, and I stayed with them a very long time. An opportunity I could not allow you to take.”

Every time you're just Crystal . . . said Doan's voice in her memory.

Bryon then. The laughter in his eyes, the touch of his hand, the feel
of his breath on her mouth, his body lying crumpled and broken on the ground.

“Not bad . . .” The ancient wizard nodded thoughtfully. “But you let me in at the end. You forgot, you see, who put him on the ground.”

Crystal held tight to her anger. It would not be a shield now, but a doorway for him to slide through and into her mind. Something that must not happen. Carefully, for this was her last chance, she built up layer by layer a silver tree. Not the ancient birches of the hamadryads, but the thirteenth tree in the circle, a young tree, barely marked by time. It was the tree that made her different, negated the superficial kinship between herself and Kraydak, defined from the very beginning the type of person Crystal would become.

Beneath the pressure of Kraydak's mind the tree bent and swayed, but it held. He drew the chain he still held tighter, golden brows drawn down with annoyance. “They say dwarf-made links never break. I could behead you with this. It wouldn't be pleasant.”

Crystal thought of the tree.

“You will tell me what you're trying so hard to hide.” He forced her chin up. “You've been quite a diversion, wizard-child, and I'm sure you'll find ways to amuse me for a long time to come but, for now, all I ask is that you look at me.”

Crystal had no strength left to refuse. The tree withered and died and she met his eyes.

Blue. Very blue. Wrapped in blue . . . sinking in blue . . . wanting it to consume her.

So that's what it feels like,
was her last conscious thought.

She didn't see the look of raw terror on Kraydak's face when at last he found what she had hidden and, seconds later, she didn't see the golden tail which sheared the roof cleanly from the walls, nor the expression of triumph on the dragon's face when the mighty jaws closed and the Wizard's Doom found Kraydak at last.

It was probably fortunate she didn't see the mess the dragon made as he fed.

Finished with Kraydak, the dragon looked down at the wizardling
lying crumpled on the floor, opened his mouth to destroy her as well and suddenly changed his mind. She didn't look like a wizard, nor smell like one, and he was certain she wouldn't taste like one.

“Harmlesss,” he decided and spread his wings to leave.

“If you leave her here, she'll die.”

The dragon turned his head and fixed Lord Death in one sapphire eye. “Ssso?”

“You must return her to her people.”

“Mussst?” The dragon snorted a brief burst of flame, as close to laughter as he could come. His wings beat at the air. “Mussst?”

Lord Death nodded. “You owe her. She woke you. She made it possible for you to destroy your creator. If you allow her to die, you're no better than he was.”

“Better than wizzzard!” His tail, whipping from side to side in agitation, destroyed a large section of wall.

“Prove it. Take her home.”

The dragon reared, but Lord Death stood quietly, staring up at him. Finally the great beast sighed and scooped Crystal up in massive talons. “Yesss.” Then, wings spread for flight, he paused.

“Ssson of Mother . . .”

“Yes?”

“Why sssave?”

Lord Death reached up and untangled several lengths of silvery white hair. “I don't know,” he admitted. “I really don't know.”

*   *   *

“Crystal? Crystal? Mikhail! I think she's awake!”

“Crystal?”

She felt Mikhail's hand clutching hers, knew it was Tayer placing the wet cloth on her forehead, and struggled to open her eyes. Why was everything so blue? Gradually the blues began to fade, replaced by browns and golds and reds and blacks, colors which finally shifted to become her mother's worried face. She looked for her voice, found it, and croaked, in nothing resembling her usual tones, “I'm hungry.”

To her surprise, Tayer began to cry and it was the Duke of Belkar who held the cup of soup to her mouth while Mikhail held his wife.

“What . . .”

“Drink up,” Belkar commanded, not letting her finish, his own eyes bright with tears. “You're nothing but skin and bones. You look like you've been out a month instead of just a week.”

Crystal obeyed, partly because she had no energy to protest and partly because satisfying the enormous hunger that clawed at her was more important at the moment than getting answers. When the cup was empty, she sighed and tried to sit up. It wasn't a great success and she sank back against the pillows, breathing heavily.

“What happened?” she managed to gasp.

“You tell us,” Mikhail said, taking the cup from Belkar and refilling it. He propped Crystal up and she drank greedily while he talked.

“Eight days ago, we woke and were told you'd vanished. Late that night, something huge flew over, terrified the horses, and dropped you in the middle of the camp. You've been lying here, unconscious, ever since.”

Finished with the second mug, Crystal tried a smile. Her lips felt stiff. “The dragon,” she said. “Then Kraydak is dead.”

Mikhail frowned. “Are you sure? He escaped before.”

Crystal shook her head and wished she hadn't when the room danced with blue spots.

“Not this time.” Her voice, rough as it was, held such conviction that they had to believe her. “The dragon brought me back after it killed Kraydak.”

“How can you know?”

She spread her hands. “I'm here.” It was the only answer that fit. She'd never know why the dragon had let her live; she didn't really care. Being alive was enough.

Belkar beamed down at her. “You said he'd have to make a mistake for you to win. He didn't, though, and you still beat him.”

“No. He made a mistake.”

“What?” scoffed the duke. “You were stronger. You beat him at his own game.”

“That was his mistake.” She peered up at Belkar from under suddenly heavy lids. “He never realized that I wasn't playing.” A massive yawn threatened to split her face. “The war?” she managed as sleep pushed her back into the pillows.

“Over,” said Mikhail, pulling the covers up under her chin. “The Melacians sued for peace the morning after you reappeared.”

“Good,” she murmured and slid into blackness.

With the resilience of youth, the heritage of the Lady, and what seemed like gallons of chicken soup, she regained her strength quickly, eating and sleeping and listening for only a week before she left her bed. Already plans were being made to go into Melac, find the true king, and put him back on the throne. Belkar was certain that the conquered countries would slip back into their previous boundaries, but Cei wasn't so sure. He felt there would be more bloodshed before the disintegrating Empire straightened itself out. Crystal agreed with Cei.

She soon discovered that most of the army had gone home; only the dukes and their people remained. And a young couple who refused to leave without seeing her.

“We couldn't leave until we got your blessing on our joining.”

Crystal smiled at the young woman who had been her maid and the soldier she had taken from the hand of Lord Death. “For what it's worth, you have it. And my deep wishes for your happiness as well.”

The two blushed and grinned and headed for the door where the ex-maid paused and shook her head. She turned back to the bed as if determined that a distasteful task must be done. “Promise me, milady,” she pleaded, “that you won't wear red again. It simply isn't your color.”

Crystal looked down at the robe borrowed from her mother, threw back her head and laughed. “I promise,” she managed at last and felt better than she had in months.

The camp looked tattered and deserted as she walked across it her first day up. The leavings of the army blew about her as she moved slowly to the scar in the earth where the bodies of the fallen had been buried.

She stood at the edge of the mass grave and stared down at the
scuffed and pitted dirt. A blush of green appeared which grew and spread until a thick carpet of grass covered the whole area. Buttercups unfolded velvet petals and nodded at the sunlight.

“Very nice.”

Crystal transferred her gaze from the ground to Lord Death.

“Don't you ever,” she hissed, “show yourself to me in that face again.”

Lord Death backed up a step and Bryon's features were replaced with auburn curls, amber eyes, and a slightly nervous expression.

“I thought you might want to say good-bye,” he explained.

“Oh.” She smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, but I've already said good-bye.” She waved a hand at the ground. “This is only tidying up. The dead are your concern, I should look now to the living.”

“I was going to say that!”

“I don't think,” Crystal told him kindly, “that I'm quite ready for the comfort of Death.”

Auburn eyebrows rose, Lord Death snickered, and Crystal was alone.

A moment later, she saw her mother leave the large pavilion and she went to meet her.

Although thinner, Tayer practically glowed in the sunlight. The golden strands in her hair wove a shining pattern through the chestnut and the flecks in her eyes shone. A soft, secret sort of smile, curved her mouth. She greeted Crystal with a kiss and they sat together on a log worn smooth by its many weeks of service as a bench.

Tayer felt suddenly shy with her silver-haired daughter. With the last of the wizards.

“You were never much of a princess,” she said at last.

Crystal smiled and cupped her hands so they could fill with sunlight. “The wizard was always stronger, Mother.”

“I know. But you were the only heir and you had a duty to the people.”

“I
was
the only heir?”

Tayer turned and met the now familiar green glow of her
daughter's eyes. Her own eyes widened as Crystal's smile grew. “You probably knew before I did,” she accused and laughed when Crystal shook her head, a picture of wronged innocence. “Well, I'm sure you had something to do with it anyway, O Mighty Wizard.” Tayer was right, but Crystal had no intention of ever telling her that the moment they had shared in the Duke of Hale's garden—using the knowledge Crystal had found in Lady Hale's pregnancy—had righted the wrong done to Tayer's body at her daughter's birth.

The two women sat in a companionable silence, both considering the new life and the world it would enter. Both concluding it wasn't that bad a place, all things considered.

Finally, Tayer sighed. “You won't be returning with us, will you?”

“No. There's no place for me there.”

“There's always a place for you,” Tayer said sharply. “You're our daughter and we love you, whatever else you are.”

“I know you do, Mother.” She leaned over and kissed Tayer's cheek. “I meant there's no place for the wizard and I can't be just your daughter for very long.”

“But you'll visit.”

“Of course, I will! I'm about to become a sister, I've no intention of missing that.” If Kraydak had been very lonely for the last thousand years, he had done it to himself, a mistake Crystal had no intention of repeating.

Tayer seemed reassured. “What will you do?”

Crystal spread her hands, scattering the sunlight. “Things are a bit of a mess right now; there'll be plenty for the last wizard to do straightening out what the second to last wizard did.” She had a sudden vision of the way Riven's hair always fell over his face and her fingers itched to push it back. The green glow of her eyes deepened and she grinned, managing to look both more and less like a wizard.