Mirror Sight
Page 176
An enemy broke through those who guarded him. Karigan emitted a strangled cry as a sword descended toward Zachary’s unprotected head.
No! she cried within, unable to speak aloud. No! She wanted to press through the shard, be there to protect him, but she was helpless. She could not pass.
Before the sword fell, the scene clouded up and vanished.
No! Tears splattered on the surface of the mirror shard. What had happened? Her insides felt flayed apart with fear, grief. She willed the shard to show her more, to show the outcome. She had to know if Zachary lived, if he was all right. At first there was nothing, then the mirror shimmered and thrust her through images so quickly that she had only impressions streaming before her eyes, of people and places she could not identify. It was like flipping the pages of a book to get to the end.
Finally the motion ceased, but all she saw at first was vibrant color, like paints running together. The images then resolved into geometric patterns, like pieces of stained glass bound together with lead. It took her a moment to realize that was exactly what she was seeing.
Please show me that he is all right.
Her point of view pulled out so that the dome of the First Rider opened up like an umbrella above her. She could not tell how, but three figures appeared to hover in the air within the dome, silhouetted by the lights that shone behind the glass to illuminate it.
She recognized Captain Mapstone’s slight form in between two men. With a quickening of her pulse, she also recognized the shape of Zachary, his broad shoulders and the posture of a warrior. Thank the gods, she said over and over in her mind. Thank the gods. He was alive. He was all right. The mirror had moved her ahead in time. Yet doubt gnawed at her. Was it truly so? Did the shard necessarily show her scenes in their correct sequence? The mirror man who had given her the looking mask had been a trickster. Was the shard playing tricks on her now? No. She must believe the sequence was correct. Zachary had to be all right. He had to have survived that battle.
Then she remembered that he must have, only to die in the final battle before Sacor City. She recalled the account in the diary of Seften, which the professor had shown her. King Zachary rode out to support his troops, only to be overcome by Amberhill’s great weapon. Even remembering this, however, was a relief. She had time, time to get back to him, time to change outcomes.
Unless time was really speeding away from her.
The other man with the king and captain appeared to be gesturing at the glass. There was something familiar about him and about the way he moved, but she could not place him. Her eyes were drawn to the king, anyway. He, like the captain, gazed where the unknown man pointed. She could not see much of the king’s face, his expression, only the hint of colored light shining on his hair and glancing off his cheek.
Have you forgotten me? she wondered.
Had they all resigned themselves to the fact she was never returning from Blackveil? That she was dead? But the captain had left that odd message, passed down through generations of chief caretakers in the tombs. The captain, at least, must have had some hope, some idea, that Karigan might return. If only she could pass through the mirror shard itself and be there. If only a whisper from her lips would reach their ears. Zachary’s ears.
There is no one, she had told Cade. Truth or lie? Perhaps only Captain Mapstone’s ability could tell her for sure. When—if—she reached home, she’d be tested when once again in Zachary’s presence. It was too easy now with her so far away to believe one thing or another. She knew, rationally, that he and she could not be together, but what had to be did not necessarily govern how she felt deep within.
Was she being fair to Cade who had expressed his desire to travel back with her, to be with her? One thing she was glad of was that he slept and did not witness her reaction to seeing Zachary. Her feelings about the two men twisted up inside her, so she tried to do what she was getting so very good at and locked away her feelings, her uncertainties. It was the safest course. To set aside the issue, to mute her feelings, not think about it, go on with life. At the moment, that meant trying to absorb this gift, this vision of home she had been granted, and puzzling over what it was about the stained glass that was so interesting.
“What are you looking at?” she murmured. It was vexing to not be able to hear what they were discussing.
She brought the shard close to her face, but it was a mistake, for when she did so, the mirror flashed intensely into her right eye with a sharp, searing pain. She cried out and dropped the shard on the bed, and clapped her hand over her eye.
“Wha—what is it?” Cade was up immediately, came over to her.
“My eye! The shard flashed and—”
“Let me see.” He carefully pried her hand away from it. “You must have gotten something in it.”
She blinked against the sting, but it was quickly dissipating. Cade placed his hand against her temple to lift her eyelid, and she squirmed.
“Hold still,” he commanded. She did her best as he peered into her eye.
“I don’t see anything.” He let her go. “How does it feel now?”
Karigan blinked rapidly, but the sting had faded. There was an afterflash, like a mote of silver in her eye. “It’s all right. I’m sorry I woke you.”
“What happened?”
She explained her vision, and she could tell he was still struggling with the whole idea that it was real, but he did not interrupt her. She told him about the flash of light, as he sat wearily on his bed.
“I—I don’t understand how that little piece of mirror did all that,” Cade said. “Magic is all but a myth, except to the Adherents and the most Preferred.”
No! she cried within, unable to speak aloud. No! She wanted to press through the shard, be there to protect him, but she was helpless. She could not pass.
Before the sword fell, the scene clouded up and vanished.
No! Tears splattered on the surface of the mirror shard. What had happened? Her insides felt flayed apart with fear, grief. She willed the shard to show her more, to show the outcome. She had to know if Zachary lived, if he was all right. At first there was nothing, then the mirror shimmered and thrust her through images so quickly that she had only impressions streaming before her eyes, of people and places she could not identify. It was like flipping the pages of a book to get to the end.
Finally the motion ceased, but all she saw at first was vibrant color, like paints running together. The images then resolved into geometric patterns, like pieces of stained glass bound together with lead. It took her a moment to realize that was exactly what she was seeing.
Please show me that he is all right.
Her point of view pulled out so that the dome of the First Rider opened up like an umbrella above her. She could not tell how, but three figures appeared to hover in the air within the dome, silhouetted by the lights that shone behind the glass to illuminate it.
She recognized Captain Mapstone’s slight form in between two men. With a quickening of her pulse, she also recognized the shape of Zachary, his broad shoulders and the posture of a warrior. Thank the gods, she said over and over in her mind. Thank the gods. He was alive. He was all right. The mirror had moved her ahead in time. Yet doubt gnawed at her. Was it truly so? Did the shard necessarily show her scenes in their correct sequence? The mirror man who had given her the looking mask had been a trickster. Was the shard playing tricks on her now? No. She must believe the sequence was correct. Zachary had to be all right. He had to have survived that battle.
Then she remembered that he must have, only to die in the final battle before Sacor City. She recalled the account in the diary of Seften, which the professor had shown her. King Zachary rode out to support his troops, only to be overcome by Amberhill’s great weapon. Even remembering this, however, was a relief. She had time, time to get back to him, time to change outcomes.
Unless time was really speeding away from her.
The other man with the king and captain appeared to be gesturing at the glass. There was something familiar about him and about the way he moved, but she could not place him. Her eyes were drawn to the king, anyway. He, like the captain, gazed where the unknown man pointed. She could not see much of the king’s face, his expression, only the hint of colored light shining on his hair and glancing off his cheek.
Have you forgotten me? she wondered.
Had they all resigned themselves to the fact she was never returning from Blackveil? That she was dead? But the captain had left that odd message, passed down through generations of chief caretakers in the tombs. The captain, at least, must have had some hope, some idea, that Karigan might return. If only she could pass through the mirror shard itself and be there. If only a whisper from her lips would reach their ears. Zachary’s ears.
There is no one, she had told Cade. Truth or lie? Perhaps only Captain Mapstone’s ability could tell her for sure. When—if—she reached home, she’d be tested when once again in Zachary’s presence. It was too easy now with her so far away to believe one thing or another. She knew, rationally, that he and she could not be together, but what had to be did not necessarily govern how she felt deep within.
Was she being fair to Cade who had expressed his desire to travel back with her, to be with her? One thing she was glad of was that he slept and did not witness her reaction to seeing Zachary. Her feelings about the two men twisted up inside her, so she tried to do what she was getting so very good at and locked away her feelings, her uncertainties. It was the safest course. To set aside the issue, to mute her feelings, not think about it, go on with life. At the moment, that meant trying to absorb this gift, this vision of home she had been granted, and puzzling over what it was about the stained glass that was so interesting.
“What are you looking at?” she murmured. It was vexing to not be able to hear what they were discussing.
She brought the shard close to her face, but it was a mistake, for when she did so, the mirror flashed intensely into her right eye with a sharp, searing pain. She cried out and dropped the shard on the bed, and clapped her hand over her eye.
“Wha—what is it?” Cade was up immediately, came over to her.
“My eye! The shard flashed and—”
“Let me see.” He carefully pried her hand away from it. “You must have gotten something in it.”
She blinked against the sting, but it was quickly dissipating. Cade placed his hand against her temple to lift her eyelid, and she squirmed.
“Hold still,” he commanded. She did her best as he peered into her eye.
“I don’t see anything.” He let her go. “How does it feel now?”
Karigan blinked rapidly, but the sting had faded. There was an afterflash, like a mote of silver in her eye. “It’s all right. I’m sorry I woke you.”
“What happened?”
She explained her vision, and she could tell he was still struggling with the whole idea that it was real, but he did not interrupt her. She told him about the flash of light, as he sat wearily on his bed.
“I—I don’t understand how that little piece of mirror did all that,” Cade said. “Magic is all but a myth, except to the Adherents and the most Preferred.”
