First Rider's Call
Page 69
Fastion stood in an attitude of deep thought. “They must have added on, at the other side of the window. I’m trying to think of what’s on the other side . . .”
“That’s all very good and interesting,” Mara said, “but we’re here to find Karigan. Let’s cover every bit of this room.”
Understanding, and a certain amount of discomfort, dawned on Fastion’s face. “You mean you think she has . . . ?”
“Faded out? Maybe. If we don’t find her here, we’ll retrace our steps and look in every nook and shadow until we do.”
And if their lamp did not shed sufficient light, she had the means to call upon another source of illumination. Light would reveal Karigan if she had faded out. It would be, Mara reflected, like searching for a ghost.
“Wouldn’t she let us know if she was here?” Fastion asked.
“Who knows?”
Strange things occurred around, and to, Karigan. Mara had seen her own share of danger since becoming a Green Rider—her hewn-off fingers proved the point. But she hadn’t contended with ghosts or Wild Rides as Karigan had, and that was just fine with her. Mara had her hands full dealing with all the management necessities Ereal and Connly had once seen to, and she was more than happy with such mundane work. Let others ride with ghosts. She would see to it they were at least well provisioned.
Mara and Fastion slowly paced the chamber, their lamp starkly illuminating the space around them. It was in the deepest, darkest corner that Mara nearly stepped on Karigan. She squawked in surprise.
Karigan sat on the floor, knees huddled to her chest, so transparent Mara could see the texture of the rockwork through her. Like searching for a ghost, she had thought, and how true it was.
“Karigan?” Mara could not control the quaver in her voice. Fastion went still beside her.
Karigan stirred, looked upward, a dazed expression on her face. “Light?”
Her voice came across some vast expanse.
“Karigan—” Mara began.
“I am lost . . . lost. Can you hear me? Can you see me?” Even across that distance, the despair in her voice was unmistakable.
Mara reached out to shake Karigan’s shoulder, but her hand passed right through her into a cold, cold space. Mara gasped and stepped back. This was not how Karigan’s ability was supposed to work.
“Karigan,” Mara said. “I can hear you, and I can see you. Come back to us—drop the fading. Drop it now.”
Her eyes finally flickered in recognition. “Now? Is this the right time? I’ve traveled so far . . .”
Her words were nonsense to Mara. “Yes,” she said firmly, “this is the right time. Drop it now.”
Karigan sighed so unlike a ghost that Mara felt some relief. Karigan passed her hand over her brooch. It was a weary gesture. Her ghostly form solidified and immediately she dropped her face into her hand and groaned.
Mara and Fastion exchanged worried glances. “What is it?” Mara asked.
“My head—it hurts. The brooch.” Her hand muffled her words.
“The use of magic has that effect on her,” Mara explained to Fastion.
Karigan looked up at them. The lamp cast half moon shadows beneath her eyes. Her flesh was bone white.
“It’s never hurt so much.”
“How did you find this place?” Fastion asked.
“The light. I followed it.” She pressed back a loose tendril of hair with a trembling hand. “I heard the call, and I followed the light. And I saw . . .”
“Saw what?” Mara was almost afraid to hear the answer.
“The captain, but she wasn’t the captain yet. And King Agates, but he was dead. Then I saw the whisperers.”
“That explains things,” Mara muttered. She did not feel as cavalier as she sounded, however. She cleared her throat and squatted beside Karigan, scrunching her nose against the odor of her damp wool greatcoat. “Have you been hurt?”
Karigan shook her head and grimaced at what the motion did to her headache.
Mara touched Karigan’s cheek, then drew away in shock. “You’re cold!” She was stone cold, far colder than sitting damp in an old castle on a rainy day warranted.
“Cold. Yes.”
Mara removed her own greatcoat and wrapped it around Karigan’s shoulders. She passed her hand over her brooch. She did not experience the strange things Karigan did, but like every Green Rider, she possessed an ability with magic. She first discovered its form during a message errand when she fell through the thin ice of a pond. She pulled herself out, but would have frozen to death had it not been for her ability.
She summoned thoughts of warmth of flame, of campfires and hearths. Heat rushed through her body and enfolded her like a blanket. She focused it on her upraised palm. Blue flame rose flickering from her fingers as though they were on fire. They were on fire.
Yates had once suggested that this particular ability would best suit Captain Mapstone because of her red hair and temper. Captain Mapstone had overheard the remark and Yates earned a month’s worth of stall muck ing duty. Mara smiled at the memory; she smiled at the flames dancing on her palm.
She kept calling on her ability until those blue flames turned to a steady orange-gold. The heat radiated against her own face, and great joy flooded her heart at the manifestation of her ability; a joy she knew several Riders, like Karigan, never experienced.
The flames worked best on her right hand, as though the stubs of her missing fingers let them burn unhindered and more intensely.
“That’s all very good and interesting,” Mara said, “but we’re here to find Karigan. Let’s cover every bit of this room.”
Understanding, and a certain amount of discomfort, dawned on Fastion’s face. “You mean you think she has . . . ?”
“Faded out? Maybe. If we don’t find her here, we’ll retrace our steps and look in every nook and shadow until we do.”
And if their lamp did not shed sufficient light, she had the means to call upon another source of illumination. Light would reveal Karigan if she had faded out. It would be, Mara reflected, like searching for a ghost.
“Wouldn’t she let us know if she was here?” Fastion asked.
“Who knows?”
Strange things occurred around, and to, Karigan. Mara had seen her own share of danger since becoming a Green Rider—her hewn-off fingers proved the point. But she hadn’t contended with ghosts or Wild Rides as Karigan had, and that was just fine with her. Mara had her hands full dealing with all the management necessities Ereal and Connly had once seen to, and she was more than happy with such mundane work. Let others ride with ghosts. She would see to it they were at least well provisioned.
Mara and Fastion slowly paced the chamber, their lamp starkly illuminating the space around them. It was in the deepest, darkest corner that Mara nearly stepped on Karigan. She squawked in surprise.
Karigan sat on the floor, knees huddled to her chest, so transparent Mara could see the texture of the rockwork through her. Like searching for a ghost, she had thought, and how true it was.
“Karigan?” Mara could not control the quaver in her voice. Fastion went still beside her.
Karigan stirred, looked upward, a dazed expression on her face. “Light?”
Her voice came across some vast expanse.
“Karigan—” Mara began.
“I am lost . . . lost. Can you hear me? Can you see me?” Even across that distance, the despair in her voice was unmistakable.
Mara reached out to shake Karigan’s shoulder, but her hand passed right through her into a cold, cold space. Mara gasped and stepped back. This was not how Karigan’s ability was supposed to work.
“Karigan,” Mara said. “I can hear you, and I can see you. Come back to us—drop the fading. Drop it now.”
Her eyes finally flickered in recognition. “Now? Is this the right time? I’ve traveled so far . . .”
Her words were nonsense to Mara. “Yes,” she said firmly, “this is the right time. Drop it now.”
Karigan sighed so unlike a ghost that Mara felt some relief. Karigan passed her hand over her brooch. It was a weary gesture. Her ghostly form solidified and immediately she dropped her face into her hand and groaned.
Mara and Fastion exchanged worried glances. “What is it?” Mara asked.
“My head—it hurts. The brooch.” Her hand muffled her words.
“The use of magic has that effect on her,” Mara explained to Fastion.
Karigan looked up at them. The lamp cast half moon shadows beneath her eyes. Her flesh was bone white.
“It’s never hurt so much.”
“How did you find this place?” Fastion asked.
“The light. I followed it.” She pressed back a loose tendril of hair with a trembling hand. “I heard the call, and I followed the light. And I saw . . .”
“Saw what?” Mara was almost afraid to hear the answer.
“The captain, but she wasn’t the captain yet. And King Agates, but he was dead. Then I saw the whisperers.”
“That explains things,” Mara muttered. She did not feel as cavalier as she sounded, however. She cleared her throat and squatted beside Karigan, scrunching her nose against the odor of her damp wool greatcoat. “Have you been hurt?”
Karigan shook her head and grimaced at what the motion did to her headache.
Mara touched Karigan’s cheek, then drew away in shock. “You’re cold!” She was stone cold, far colder than sitting damp in an old castle on a rainy day warranted.
“Cold. Yes.”
Mara removed her own greatcoat and wrapped it around Karigan’s shoulders. She passed her hand over her brooch. She did not experience the strange things Karigan did, but like every Green Rider, she possessed an ability with magic. She first discovered its form during a message errand when she fell through the thin ice of a pond. She pulled herself out, but would have frozen to death had it not been for her ability.
She summoned thoughts of warmth of flame, of campfires and hearths. Heat rushed through her body and enfolded her like a blanket. She focused it on her upraised palm. Blue flame rose flickering from her fingers as though they were on fire. They were on fire.
Yates had once suggested that this particular ability would best suit Captain Mapstone because of her red hair and temper. Captain Mapstone had overheard the remark and Yates earned a month’s worth of stall muck ing duty. Mara smiled at the memory; she smiled at the flames dancing on her palm.
She kept calling on her ability until those blue flames turned to a steady orange-gold. The heat radiated against her own face, and great joy flooded her heart at the manifestation of her ability; a joy she knew several Riders, like Karigan, never experienced.
The flames worked best on her right hand, as though the stubs of her missing fingers let them burn unhindered and more intensely.
