Wizard of the Grove (34 page)

He would've gone on but Jago, who sat where he could see the rest of the cavern, grabbed his arm and quieted him with a small shake of his head.

“Why didn't you tell me,” asked the one true son of the Mother, “when this, began?”

Shaking back the silver curtain of her hair, Crystal met Lord Death's eyes. Answering one question, it seemed, led only to others. She shrugged, trying to lessen the importance of her answer for the wrong weight here would lead to questions she knew she couldn't deal with. “I was afraid you wouldn't like me if I wasn't perfect.”

Lord Death blinked once or twice in surprise. Of all the possible reasons she might give for shutting him out, for refusing to confide in him, he hadn't expected that. His lips twitched as he thought about it, then he smiled. “You have
never
been perfect,” he said.

She returned his smile, partly in response, partly in relief that their friendship seemed back on its old footing, with the awkwardness of the past two meetings buried by that quip. She couldn't know that she had given him hope.

An irrational hope, all things considered, Lord Death acknowledged with an inner sigh.

“Is she talking to
him?”
Raulin hissed.

Jago nodded.

“Is he talking back?”

Jago nodded again.

“I don't think I like this.”

“Better get used to it, brother.” Jago levered himself to his feet by grasping Raulin's shoulder. His legs had grown stiff from sitting so long in one place while Crystal told her story. “We can't spend the night in here, most of our gear is on the sled. And I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm getting hungry.”

On cue, Crystal's stomach grumbled loudly. “Hungry,” she agreed, “is definitely the word for it.”

Raulin stood and in mirrored moves the brothers each held a hand out to the woman on the ground. Their gazes crossed as each made note of the other's gesture, then locked in near identical glares.

Crystal stared from one to the other in surprise, quickly suppressed the grin threatening to break free—the last time she'd seen those
expressions they'd been on the faces of her youngest siblings and had rapidly degenerated to yells of “Can too!” and “Can not!”—and used both offered hands to pull herself up. She supposed it was equally childish of her to feel pleased at being the bone of contention. She didn't care. Perhaps, just perhaps, things were going to work out.

The centaurs,
reminded a quiet voice in her mind.

Shall I leave these two alone to be slaughtered?
she thought back at it and it stilled.

“Crystal,” Lord Death called softly. “My people?”

The demon crept forward and tugged on the edge of the coat. “Free me,” it pleaded.

She reached down and touched the demon's head with one pale finger, “Yes.” For it had suddenly come to her how she could.

She moved to the center of the cavern and the coat slid down off her shoulders and to the stone floor. A breeze, an impossible breeze this deep beneath a mountain, fanned her hair into a nimbus of silver light. Green fires blazed up in her eyes and she reached out with her power and drove the green between the red and black that bound the demon.

Those who watched saw the muscles of her back roll and twist and her hands snap up to shoulder height and the knuckles whiten as they closed to fists.

The red and black were weakening and her power became a silver sword to cut the bindings loose.

Her arms went up, the fingers taut, and when she brought them down again, the wall of bone came down, too.

“FREE!” No longer gray but an iridescent blur, the demon spun once in place, its arms outstretched, and disappeared.

“FREE!” screamed the dead, and Lord Death vanished too, carrying his children home.

Crystal grabbed the shattered power of the ancient wizard and threw it up in the path of Zarsheiy, the first of the goddesses to attack the weakened shields. Howling with rage, the fire goddess hit the barrier, hit the jagged pieces of red and black and was stopped. It had been a binding power after all.

Well done.
The velvet voice of darkness sounded amused and Crystal felt the presences retreat to their own corners once again.

Pleased with her solution, and even more pleased that it had worked, for she hadn't been sure it would, she took a deep breath and relaxed.

“Crystal?”

Jago stepped forward, once again offering her the coat. He kept his eyes carefully on her face but their outer edges crinkled as he said: “For Raulin's sake . . .”

B
ack in the bright beginning, when the Mother-creator had formed the world from her body and the air about it from her breath, when She had given life to the lesser creatures of the land and air and water, She paused to rest in a grove of silver birch. As She rested, She grew lonely and so called to life the spirit of the tree She sat beneath that She might have company.

And because She stayed for a time in that place, the glory of her spread out into the surrounding land. In the Grove itself, the Peace that was the Mother remained.

When the Age of Wizards ended, a band of mortals desperately seeking peace were drawn to that land. The Grove became a sacred place. A respectful distance from it, they began to rebuild their lives. They drew boundaries along mountains and rivers and called that which was bounded, Ardhan. These mortals, the Mother's Youngest, had no way of knowing that the echo of the Mother's presence called to others as well and that they shared their new land with creatures out of legend.

The Elder Races, those created of the Mother's blood, paid little attention to the newcomers. Their lives moved in different ways and only occasionally touched. The Elder Races were few in number and the land was large enough for all. Most of the time. As the years passed, Ardhan gained a reputation as a place where wonders happened.

It was in Ardhan that the Eldest and the Youngest briefly joined.

From Ardhan came the last of the wizards.

In Ardhan, the Council of the Elder Races met.

*   *   *

From his vantage point on the ridge, Doan could see the entire meeting place. Three centaurs. He grunted. Three too many as far as he was concerned. And one, no, two, giants. They sat so still his gaze tended to slide past them for all their size.

“Might as well get on with it,” the dwarf muttered to the breezes. They chuckled as they sped away. “Oh, sure,” he complained, heading down to level ground, “you can laugh. You don't have to stay.”

He dropped the last eight feet, and, mildly disappointed that none of the centaurs shied, started right in. “What I want to know,” his hands were on his hips, his chin jutted forward aggressively, and his breath was a plume on the winter air, “is why here? Why not the Grove?”

*when we move the water*

*to*

*the Grove*

*the sisters get angry*

The thoughts rose up out of the deep pool near which the land-bound Elders had gathered. Although ice clung around the edges, the center, despite the frigid temperature, was clear. Below the surface of the water, pale green and blue bodies wove in and out in a pattern as graceful as it was complicated. The exact number of mer who had answered the Call could not be determined for the waterfolk were never still, but it scarcely mattered for a thought held by one was shared by all.

“And,” added the tallest of the centaurs, his coat gleaming like ebony in the early morning sun, “as the Ladies of the Grove cannot leave their trees, little of the outside world concerns them.”

“Told you to take a hike did they, C'Tal? Can't say as I blame them.”

C'Tal's eyes narrowed and he stared down his nose at the dwarf. “If you do not wish to be here, why did you choose to answer the call?”

“You think I volunteered? Ha!” Doan hacked and spit into the snow at C'Tal's feet. He disliked centaurs for a number of reasons. Their pomposity, their “Elder-than-thou” attitude, and their lack of
anything remotely resembling a sense of humor headed the list, but mostly he disliked them because the Elder Races were supposed to get along and he enjoyed being contrary. “Chaos, no. I had everyone in the caverns begging me to answer so they wouldn't have to risk death by boredom. Now,” he shoved his hands behind his broad leather belt, and rocked back on his heels, “what could possibly have got you so twitchy you were willing to associate with the bubble brains.”

*better bubbles*

*than stone*

C'Tal's tail snapped back and forth in short jerky arcs. A centaur did not “dislike” anyone, but C'Tal certainly disapproved of Doan. Sarcasm and cynicism barred clear thinking. He expected the dwarf's opposition in what was to come. The mer, for all their frivolity, were logical creatures, and he had no doubt he could convince them. The giants, so motionless they appeared more a bit of the earth poking up through the snow than living beings, could decide either way, but C'Tal took comfort in the knowledge that they would at least listen without interrupting.

“We would not have Called had we not thought this to be the gravest of emergencies.”

“Too cold for horseflies,” Doan mused. “Weevils got into your nosebags?”

*quiet Doan*

*or*

*we'll be here*

*all day*

C'Tal looked smug.

*and you half-horse*

*speak*

*we*

*have places that need us*

Irritation visible in his flattened ears, C'Tal crossed his arms over his massive chest, drew his brows down into an impressive frown, and announced, “It is the wizard.”

“I might have known,” Doan sighed. “Every time one of you gets colic you blame it on her.” He shook his head. “Why don't you leave the poor kid alone?”

One of C'Tal's companions stepped forward, tossing heavy chestnut hair back out of his eyes. “Surely even you felt the surge of power she called to her use and the breaking of ancient bonds. Are you not curious to discover what she has done?”

Doan smiled unpleasantly. “No, C'Din,” he said. “I'm not. And you, you four-footed busy . . .”

*she has freed*

*Aryalan's demon*

Shocked, the three centaurs and Doan stared down into the water. Even the giants stirred, although they only looked at each other and smiled their slow smiles.

A pale blue body, small enough to fit easily into C'Tal's hand, arced out of the pool, turned once languidly in midair, then disappeared again into the ebb and flow of mer.

*the demon's prison had a spring*

*we*

*go where water is*

“All right,” Doan said to the general area, “she freed the demon. So? About time the poor thing got to go home. And yeah, I felt the power surge; it was completely contained. Nothing to do with us.”

“That,” declared C'Tal ponderously, “is not the problem. It merely alerted us to that which we have called the Elder to discuss. She . . .”

“Hold it,” the dwarf held up a callused hand. When C'Tal paused, his lips drawn into a thin line, Doan climbed nimbly up the tailings of the ridge he'd followed from the caverns, kicked the snow from a narrow ledge, crossed his legs, and sat down. “Talking to you on level ground,” he explained sweetly, “gives me a pain in the neck.”

“We are aware of herbal remedies,” offered the third centaur, a glossy palomino, “that will relieve such pain.”

“How about relieving a pain in the ass?”

“Yes,” the golden head nodded thoughtfully, “we can ease that also.”

“Later,” C'Tal bit the word off, his teeth white slabs against the black of his beard, well aware the dwarf was being deliberately irritating. “We believe that when the wizard freed the demon she discovered the location of Aryalan's tower.”

“So that's the burr under your blanket.” Doan sighed and relaxed. It was just like the centaurs to get upset over something trivial. “I suggested years ago we let her deal with the remaining towers. I said it then and I'll say it now, the poor kid needs something to do. I'm glad she found one on her own.”

“She is a danger, the towers are a danger,” C'Din pointed out quietly.

“Hold that thought, hayburner,” Doan interrupted. “You lot trained her, why not have some trust in your training?”

C'Din shook his head, his forelock falling back down over his eyes. “As you and others have pointed out, we trained the ancient wizards as well.” He paused. When no one filled the silence with a reminder of what the ancient wizards had become, he continued. “We feel—now, as we did at your suggestion years ago—that the wizard at the tower is one danger too many. She is already the most powerful being now living. When she reaches the tower and adds the power within to what she already carries, will that not be an undesirable event?”

Doan kept a grip on his temper. C'Din was being very reasonable, for a centaur. And what was worse, he had a valid point. “Why,” he growled, “will that be an ‘undesirable event'?”

“All power corrupts,” C'Tal intoned. “Absolute power corrupts absolutely.”

The dwarf's eyes began to glow red and he pulled himself slowly to his feet. The cold of the outside world meant nothing to the Elder, but the chill radiating from Doan caused two of the centaurs to step away and, although he stood his ground, long shivers rippled the skin of C'Tal's back.

*stop*

*cliché becomes cliché*

*because of truth*

*power*

*does*

*corrupt*

The red dimmed but did not die. “I will listen to no more of this. You've got my opinion, not that you'll pay any attention to it. I've stayed at this farce long enough.” Doan leaped to the ground, but a huge arm bared his way.

“Wait.” The larger of the two giants looked down at him, her face expressionless.

Doan seethed, but until she moved her arm he wasn't going anywhere and he knew it. With ill grace he did the only thing he could. He waited.

“When you called us, C'Tal, what did you intend the Elder to do?” Her voice was strong and deep but softer than her size would lead many to expect. The giants had no need to shout.

C'Tal shrugged. “In some manner, we must prevent the wizard . . .”

“She has a name,” Doan snarled.

“Very well.” C'Tal's tone made it obvious that he merely humored the dwarf. “We must prevent Crystal from reaching Aryalan's tower.”

“No,” the giant said.

“No?” chorused all three centaurs.

Doan grinned, his good humor suddenly restored. “You heard her, she said no.”

*why no*

“The remaining towers of the ancient ones
are
a danger and should be dealt with. The wizard is the only possible solution.”

“That's not what you thought a dozen years ago when we discussed telling her about the towers,” Doan groused.

Again the giants exchanged their slow smiles.

“We changed our minds,” said the smaller one.

“So,” Doan moved to stand before C'Tal, peering up at him through narrowed eyes. “That's two against sticking our noses in and two for.”

*three against*

*one for*

*this wizard must be as free to take her own path*

*as every other creature*

*we cannot say*

*this is right*

*this is*

*wrong*

C'Tal dug at the ground, packing the snow into ice, his ears flat against his head, his companions equally upset. “So we are to stand by and let the Age of Wizards come again?”

“No.”

Doan turned on the giants, hands on his hips. “What? Changed your minds again?” His lip curled and his voice dripped sarcasm but the giants appeared not to notice.

“Power can always be misused, we recognize that . . .”

The centaurs calmed a little.

“. . . so we will watch to see that it is not.”

“You?”

“Me,” the smaller giant said softly. “I know the land the tower is in.”

“Not exactly inconspicuous are you?”

“I will offer my help openly.”

“And why should she take it?”

Once more the slow exchange of smiles.

“Will you two stop doing that,” Doan snarled.

Both giants inclined their heads in a unified apology and Doan rolled his eyes.

“She'll take my help,” the smaller continued, “because I have been in the tower.”

The silence that followed was so complete that the sound of the mer moving through the water could be clearly heard.

For a change, Doan and the centaurs were in complete accord; his look of incredulity was reproduced in a larger scale on their faces as he demanded: “What in the Mother's name did you do that for?”

The smaller giant looked unperturbed. “I was curious,” she explained.

“Aren't you a bit big to get curious?”

The two giants looked down at Doan. Quite a way down, for although the smaller was no more than twelve feet tall, the dwarf barely topped four.

“Aren't you a bit small to take such a tone?” the larger chastised him gently. “We get as curious as any race.”

“Not so I've ever noticed.”

Two sets of earth-brown eyes twinkled. “You live too fast, dwarf.”

*what was in*

*the tower*

“A great deal of unpleasantness.” The smaller giant sighed. “I did not go all the way in, but from what I saw, Aryalan trusted no one. The way is well trapped.”

Doan's eyes narrowed. “And you're willing to go back?”

The larger giant took a deep breath and began to explain again. “The tower must be dealt with. The wizard is the only one who can do it, but the wizard should be watched.”

“I am the logical choice to watch the wizard. I will therefore go back,” the smaller concluded and spread her hands. “Where is the difficulty?”

C'Tal beamed and bestowed his highest accolade. “An explanation worthy of a centaur.” He ignored Doan's snort. “Are we all agreed then?”

*we*

*agree*

“And I,” said C'Din. The palomino nodded solemnly.

“Doan?”

The dwarf scratched his chin, stared off at the horizon, and finally threw up his hands. “Oh, all right.” His brows came down and he glared up at C'Tal. “But not because I think the kid'll misuse anything. I want everyone to understand my position on that.”

“You have, as usual,” C'Tal said dryly, “made your point of view known.”