Firebrand
Page 35
“Great.” Captain, lieutenant, and Chief Rider, were all ganging up on him.
Trace’s expression grew troubled. “Connly is telling me about an attack on the castle. Our Riders are all right . . .” She went on to tell him the details as she received them.
“Gods,” Alton muttered when she finished. “As if we don’t have enough trouble waiting behind the wall.”
“Speaking of which,” Trace said, “the captain asks if you have anything to report.”
Alton shook his head. “Nothing of note. The forest remains quiet, and the wall is neither improving nor worsening. The guardians do seem to miss Estral. Everyone here is well, but for a few brief bouts of illness. Supplies are coming regularly from Woodhaven.”
Trace nodded as she relayed his words, then said, “I am to inform you to continue your watch, and that this communication is to end.”
“Wait! I wanted to speak with Estral again!”
“Sorry, Alton, but the captain is reminding us that Connly and I are not your personal link to communicating with Lady Estral.”
He was definitely going to chop wood. “Could you at least pass on that she is always forgiven?”
Trace nodded, closed her eyes. “It is done.” When he said nothing else, she added in a wry tone, “You’re welcome.”
“Thank you,” he replied absently.
Trace sighed. “I am going now.”
“All right. I’ll be in touch tomorrow.” He lifted his hand off the tempes stone, and Trace and her spectral green glow vanished. Though he stood in the tower, it appeared he stood surrounded by plains of drifting snow. It was the magic of the tower that made it seem a vast landscape existed within. It wasn’t exactly illusion for he could walk off into the snow, though he did not know how far, and yet it was not entirely real. Once he left the tempes stone and stepped between the columns that encircled it, the landscape would vanish and he’d be surrounded by the environs of the ordinary tower.
It was frustrating to not be allowed to go after Estral, to not be allowed to leave the wall. Before she had come into his life, he had thought of nothing but the wall. She had reawakened him to so much he’d put aside. He’d forgotten why he wanted to repair the wall. It was, of course, to maintain the protection of his homeland against Blackveil, but also the way of life of his fellow Sacoridians, and that included his way of life with all its joys. Estral had returned music to him, and laughter, all the things he’d forgotten in his obsession with trying to find a way to repair the wall.
He missed everything she had ignited in him. He knew she had a mind of her own and that if in her shoes, he too would go in search of his father and voice. He could not blame her for that, but it was all right to miss her and worry about her, wasn’t it?
He was about to leave the tower when its irascible guardian materialized out of the air. Alton had ceased being startled by Merdigen’s comings and goings. He still wasn’t clear on exactly what Merdigen was, except that he described himself as a magical “projection of the great mage, Merdigen,” and that some essence of him existed in the tempes stone.
“I have been thinking,” Merdigen said without preamble.
Uh oh, Alton thought.
“I have been thinking about the dark Sleepers and how they are able to pass through the towers.”
“Oh?” Alton had faced such a creature in Tower of the Earth and had almost perished. Sleepers were Eletians who had receded from life, as he understood it, inhabiting great trees. There were Sleepers that had been left behind in Argenthyne when Mornhavon the Black conquered it centuries ago and his touch corrupted the land into what was now Blackveil Forest, and everything within it, including the Sleepers. They were tainted Sleepers, Eletians twisted into something dark and very dangerous. No one, not even the Eletians, knew how many tainted Sleepers remained in Blackveil, but because Eletians could pass through the towers from one side of the wall to the other, so could the tainted Sleepers, which presented a serious threat, should they awaken.
“I think I have an idea about how we might protect the towers.”
“You do?” Merdigen had Alton’s full attention.
“Yes,” Merdigen replied. “I think we need kittens.”
MERDIGEN’S CAT
Alton stared incredulously at Merdigen. Kittens? Did he expect to purr the Sleepers to death?
“I was sitting with my cat,” Merdigen said, “and thought maybe we were ready for kittens.”
Had the mage gone mad? Actually, Merdigen had always been a bit mad, but this was more so than usual. Though he’d spoken of having one before, the “cat,” as far as Alton could tell, was some figment of Merdigen’s imagination.
“I don’t have time for this.” Alton took a few more steps toward the tower wall through which he could pass into the outer world.
“Here, kitty, kitty, kitty!” Merdigen called. “Come, my Whiskers!”
Alton turned back to Merdigen and opened his mouth to tell him a thing or two, but just then an orange-tabby shape hurtled from the shadows of the tower heights and landed neatly at Merdigen’s feet. The ordinary-looking shorthair cat rubbed against Merdigen’s legs with rumbling purrs. Alton remained unmoved for he had seen Merdigen produce plenty of illusions before.
“This is my cat,” Merdigen said proudly. “He is a stray I took in. His name is Mister Whiskers.”
“Five hells,” Alton muttered. “I am going to go chop wood.” And he walked right through the wall into the cold outer world and sanity.
Trace’s expression grew troubled. “Connly is telling me about an attack on the castle. Our Riders are all right . . .” She went on to tell him the details as she received them.
“Gods,” Alton muttered when she finished. “As if we don’t have enough trouble waiting behind the wall.”
“Speaking of which,” Trace said, “the captain asks if you have anything to report.”
Alton shook his head. “Nothing of note. The forest remains quiet, and the wall is neither improving nor worsening. The guardians do seem to miss Estral. Everyone here is well, but for a few brief bouts of illness. Supplies are coming regularly from Woodhaven.”
Trace nodded as she relayed his words, then said, “I am to inform you to continue your watch, and that this communication is to end.”
“Wait! I wanted to speak with Estral again!”
“Sorry, Alton, but the captain is reminding us that Connly and I are not your personal link to communicating with Lady Estral.”
He was definitely going to chop wood. “Could you at least pass on that she is always forgiven?”
Trace nodded, closed her eyes. “It is done.” When he said nothing else, she added in a wry tone, “You’re welcome.”
“Thank you,” he replied absently.
Trace sighed. “I am going now.”
“All right. I’ll be in touch tomorrow.” He lifted his hand off the tempes stone, and Trace and her spectral green glow vanished. Though he stood in the tower, it appeared he stood surrounded by plains of drifting snow. It was the magic of the tower that made it seem a vast landscape existed within. It wasn’t exactly illusion for he could walk off into the snow, though he did not know how far, and yet it was not entirely real. Once he left the tempes stone and stepped between the columns that encircled it, the landscape would vanish and he’d be surrounded by the environs of the ordinary tower.
It was frustrating to not be allowed to go after Estral, to not be allowed to leave the wall. Before she had come into his life, he had thought of nothing but the wall. She had reawakened him to so much he’d put aside. He’d forgotten why he wanted to repair the wall. It was, of course, to maintain the protection of his homeland against Blackveil, but also the way of life of his fellow Sacoridians, and that included his way of life with all its joys. Estral had returned music to him, and laughter, all the things he’d forgotten in his obsession with trying to find a way to repair the wall.
He missed everything she had ignited in him. He knew she had a mind of her own and that if in her shoes, he too would go in search of his father and voice. He could not blame her for that, but it was all right to miss her and worry about her, wasn’t it?
He was about to leave the tower when its irascible guardian materialized out of the air. Alton had ceased being startled by Merdigen’s comings and goings. He still wasn’t clear on exactly what Merdigen was, except that he described himself as a magical “projection of the great mage, Merdigen,” and that some essence of him existed in the tempes stone.
“I have been thinking,” Merdigen said without preamble.
Uh oh, Alton thought.
“I have been thinking about the dark Sleepers and how they are able to pass through the towers.”
“Oh?” Alton had faced such a creature in Tower of the Earth and had almost perished. Sleepers were Eletians who had receded from life, as he understood it, inhabiting great trees. There were Sleepers that had been left behind in Argenthyne when Mornhavon the Black conquered it centuries ago and his touch corrupted the land into what was now Blackveil Forest, and everything within it, including the Sleepers. They were tainted Sleepers, Eletians twisted into something dark and very dangerous. No one, not even the Eletians, knew how many tainted Sleepers remained in Blackveil, but because Eletians could pass through the towers from one side of the wall to the other, so could the tainted Sleepers, which presented a serious threat, should they awaken.
“I think I have an idea about how we might protect the towers.”
“You do?” Merdigen had Alton’s full attention.
“Yes,” Merdigen replied. “I think we need kittens.”
MERDIGEN’S CAT
Alton stared incredulously at Merdigen. Kittens? Did he expect to purr the Sleepers to death?
“I was sitting with my cat,” Merdigen said, “and thought maybe we were ready for kittens.”
Had the mage gone mad? Actually, Merdigen had always been a bit mad, but this was more so than usual. Though he’d spoken of having one before, the “cat,” as far as Alton could tell, was some figment of Merdigen’s imagination.
“I don’t have time for this.” Alton took a few more steps toward the tower wall through which he could pass into the outer world.
“Here, kitty, kitty, kitty!” Merdigen called. “Come, my Whiskers!”
Alton turned back to Merdigen and opened his mouth to tell him a thing or two, but just then an orange-tabby shape hurtled from the shadows of the tower heights and landed neatly at Merdigen’s feet. The ordinary-looking shorthair cat rubbed against Merdigen’s legs with rumbling purrs. Alton remained unmoved for he had seen Merdigen produce plenty of illusions before.
“This is my cat,” Merdigen said proudly. “He is a stray I took in. His name is Mister Whiskers.”
“Five hells,” Alton muttered. “I am going to go chop wood.” And he walked right through the wall into the cold outer world and sanity.
