Wizards Conclave

Chapter 10
Shadows in the Wild

Settle down, Dora!" Coryn snapped. Confronted by a familiar, stubborn glare, she whacked the mule across the snout and repeated her command. Turning more docile, the shaggy animal fell into pace behind Diva and Dolly until once again the three mules shuffled patiently along, following Coryn, who was following Jenna.

As Coryn had been following Jenna for more than three weeks, now. They were somewhere in the western half of what used to be called Qualinesti, Coryn was pretty sure. That much she had gleaned from Jenna's conversations with innkeepers, knightly patrols, and the occasional traveler they encountered. As to why they were here or where they were headed, Coryn had no idea.

Coryn had learned, quickly, about the mules: how to feed, load, unload, lead, and occasionally prod them to greater urgency. She worked hard, ate as well as Jenna did, and still had no idea why her grandmother had sent her to visit this unusual, and admittedly intriguing, woman. Certainly she had seen more of the world in these past three months than in the whole of her previous sixteen years. But there must be more to it than that.

At night, rolled in her bedroll near the fire, Cory would pretend to sleep. Through slitted eyelids, she would watch as Jenna went through mysterious routines. Often these involved reading-the girl knew that one of the mule's saddlebags bulged with books, more books than she had ever seen before. The older woman was very protective of these tomes, so Coryn had never been able to see inside them, but she stole compelling glimpses of the red leather covers, with their shiny binding and silver filigree inscriptions. She suspected the volumes were similar to Umma's little book, the one hidden under her mattress. Once she had asked Jenna about them, only to be told-curtly-to collect more firewood for the evening's cooking.

When Jenna read at night, she did so by the light of a medallion, one of the many pieces of jewelry that she wore on slender chains around her neck. Cory was fascinated by the nature of that illumination, brighter and more steady than any lamp. On one very still night, she had heard the woman whisper a strange word as she touched the medallion. It was one of the word's from Umma's book; of that Coryn had been certain!

That had been only yesterday, and now another long day of forest-track was behind them.

"Down there, in that hollow. We'll camp there tonight," Jenna announced, gesturing to a narrow trail descending steeply away from the winding forest track. "I remember a nice clearing near the stream. And nobody will be able to see us from the road. Take the mules down there and wait for me-I want to have a look around and make sure of our safety."

"All right," Coryn agreed, eyeing the narrow trail dubiously. They hadn't seen a single person since the innkeeper at the crossroads, at least ten miles and six hours ago, but she knew not to challenge the older woman's sense of caution. "Diva, lead the way."

She took the bridle of the lead mule and started down the path, which was more of a dry ravine than any kind of hewn trail. Still, the animals followed with surefooted ease, and they rapidly descended between the lofty, moss-draped trunks into an area of soft undergrowth. Sure enough, the little run debouched into a tiny meadow carpeted with small, white flowers. Nearby was a placid stretch of water. With the first sweep of her eyes, Cory spotted a least a dozen fat trout, and her stomach was already rumbling as she unhitched the mules and started to spread out their small camp.

With practiced ease, Cory removed the saddlebags and tack from the mules and tethered the animals near the stream, where they had ready access to a nice patch of clover-heavy grass as well as fresh water. Next she pulled the cooking gear and bedrolls from Diva's saddlebags. Dolly's load contained their dried provisions and extra clothing. Dora's bags, containing Jenna's books as well as many other mysterious items that the girl had yet to examine, were left to Jenna to handle, for Cory knew better than to open them.

Jenna, her red robe damp around the fringe from the wet underbrush, strolled into the clearing a few minutes later. The girl never ceased to be amazed that her companion, who was draped with bangles and chains and feathered gewgaws-as well as the golden medallion-could move so silently.

"This is a good place to camp," Coryn offered with a smile. "Really hidden down here. Did you remember it from an earlier visit?"

"Long ago I spent a pleasant couple of days down here," Jenna replied. "I wasn't much older than you, I guess. I was on my first trip outside the Tower, traveling in the company of a young knight-"

Abruptly, the older woman paused, her lips creasing. "Come to think of it, I was a little older than you are."

Cory would have liked to hear the rest of the story, but she had learned to take Jenna's snippets of conversation for what they were: tantalizing pieces of a personal history that, the girl hoped, she might someday put together to make sense. Whenever she asked to hear more, Jenna was likely to change the subject or, more likely, send her off on some errand.

This time she went and gathered firewood without being asked. In only a few minutes she had collected a plentiful supply of dry, hard wood. Jenna was going through the mysterious components of Dora's saddlebags, and, as Cory arranged the wood, she worked up the courage to ask a question.

"You mentioned you came here after you were in a tower. My grandmother used to talk about a tower, too-is that where you know each other from?"

Jenna looked at her sharply, carefully setting down a bag of jars that clinked musically together. "Yes, as a matter of fact. That was a long time ago. In fact, it was the last time I saw Scharon-that is, your grandmother."

Cherishing this tidbit of information, Coryn quickly built a cheery fire. The sky, viewed through the halo of surrounding tree tops, was still pale blue with late afternoon sunlight, and she looked toward the deep pool where the brook eddied near their camp. "How about fresh fish tonight?" she asked. "I could probably catch us a pair of nice trout before it gets dark."

"Good," Jenna agreed. "I have some reading to do."

Coryn went to the portion of Diva's saddlebags that had been given over to her few possessions. She took out her bow and strung the weapon. With one arrow in her other hand she went over to the bank of the stream. The trout were as thick as before, meandering through the clear water. The pool was only three or four feet deep, with a silted bottom, perfect for bow-fishing. Every few seconds the surface roiled as one of the fish struck at a careless fly or waterbug.

The girl studied the fish, picking out three of the largest.

Slowly she drew back her bowstring, holding it close to her ear. Tension thrummed in the taut strand, in the bend of the sturdy bow, in the quivering of the carefully aimed missile. Her eyes flicked back and forth, watching the fish meander, waiting until their paths drifted close together.

Coryn drew a breath in through her nose. She relaxed and felt the wild sorcery tingling in the soles of her feet, pulsing in the air around her. That power was reflected in the silky patterns on the surface of the water, in the dappled scales on the sides of the three trout.

It was time. She let the arrow fly as she exhaled, and with her will she drew the power of magic from her surroundings and channeled it, tightly, into her shot. In that breath the arrow became three, each missile slicing unerringly into the water, aimed slightly below the apparent location of the targets-Coryn had done enough bow-fishing to know that she had to correct for the bending of the light as it passed through the water.

The trio of missiles penetrated the water with barely audible splashes, and each drove through the body of a fat target. The fish thrashed and leaped momentarily, but the shots were true and, moments later, each floated lifelessly to the surface, pinned by identical wooden shafts. Since the late summer evening was warm, Cory had no qualms about stripping off her trousers and wading into the pool to retrieve her prizes. She was feeling rather proud of herself as she bore the trout back to the shore and climbed onto the bank. Only when she started toward the fire was she aware that Jenna had put down her book and stood to face her, hands on her hips.

"What did you think you were doing?" asked the older woman, no sense of amusement, or even tolerance, in her voice.

"Getting dinner," Cory said defensively. "I told you-"

"I am referring to how you got those fish! That was corruption-you sucked the energy out of the very air! How dare you?"

"Dare I?" The girl was irritated by the stupid question. "I have been fishing like that since I first learned to use a bow. What harm did I do?"

"Harm?" Jenna drew a breath and made an obvious effort to control her-to Coryn-surprising anger. "Didn't your grandmother teach you anything? "

The girl bit back her growing temper. "Umma taught me a lot, nearly everything that I know!" she retorted. In the face of Jenna's stony silence she continued. "About that, what you call 'wild magic,' I guess I figured some things out for myself. But Umma knew and didn't care. Why are you so upset?"

"You wouldn't understand," Jenna said sternly.

"Of course not! You won't tell me anything! How am I supposed to understand anything?"

"Now is not the time. Throw those fish away-I will not eat them, and neither will you. We have plenty of flatbread and dried fruit for dinner. That will serve us as well tonight as it has for the past weeks."

Coryn stared at the older woman. Jenna met her gaze directly, but her eyes glanced down at the fish with an expression of real disgust. Slowly Coryn came to a surprising realization: Jenna was not so much angry as frightened!

Still reluctant, the girl went back to the stream, and dropped her catches into the flow. Swiftly the three dead trout were carried out of sight.

They ate their bread and fruit in silence, Cory stealing sidelong glances at the woman in the red robe. Jenna had stored her books away, and now she seemed distracted, looking into the surrounding woods with an intense, staring expression. Coryn cleaned up their few dishes, banked the fire against the morning's chill, and then sank into her bedroll with a strong sense of unease.

The tension lingered as she lay on the hard ground, staring at the small patch of stars visible through the ring of trees. She turned to look at Jenna, who was wrapped up in her own blankets on the other side of the fire, and who, from the sound of steady breathing, was sound asleep.

In the darkness and the silence of the deep forest, Coryn began to muster her defiance. Someday soon she would confront Jenna about her mysterious edict. Why did she fear the wild magic? The girl felt certain that Jenna was no stranger to magic! Jenna's lighted medallion was but one small example of things Coryn had observed. But why would one kind of magic cause her to react with such fear, when she willingly used her own powers with merely a whispered word, or the deft maneuvering of her fingers?

She knew such whispered words from Umma's books, the books that she had committed to memory years ago. One word, spoken by pure instinct, had saved her from the walrus-men as it whisked her, still wet from lying in the soggy snow, onto the floor of Umma's cottage.

She remembered the word Jenna murmured when she summoned the light from her medallion. Would that word work for her?

It was with a sense of rebellious determination that she rolled onto her side, her back toward the low fire and the sleeping woman beyond. Cory didn't have a medallion, but reaching out a hand, she felt around until she found a small stone, small enough that she could easily hold it in the palm of her hand.

As softly as she could, she whispered the remembered word, focusing the power of the magic on the stone cupped in her fingers. Immediately, to her delight, it came to light, spilling a surprising brilliance over the ground, across the clearing, and into the nearby fringe of woods. The girl listened for any disruption in Jenna's breathing. Convinced that the Red Robe still slumbered, the girl uncapped her fingers slightly and let the beams of light play across the trees, the moss-draped branches, and the trailing vines…

And then she saw the black-cloaked figure standing there at the edge of the woods, regarding her with an expression of keen interest.

Coryn gasped and sat up, raising the stone so that its full light spilled wildly into the woods. With a grimace, the stranger-he was a rather handsome man, she noticed vaguely-raised a hand to shield his eyes from the rays.

"Would you mind?" he asked, pleasantly enough, as he strolled forward into the clearing.

"I–I don't know how to stop it," Coryn admitted, though she cupped the stone tightly to cover its brightness.

"Then your mistress is doing a poor job of teaching you," the stranger remarked. He was dressed in a sleek black robe, the fabric intertwined with silvery threads that picked up and reflected the light. He had an expression of mild amusement on his face as he looked past Coryn toward the sleeping Jenna.

"Mistress?" Coryn suddenly realized she needed to raise an alarm. "Jenna-wake up!" she cried. Her eyes remained fixed upon the robed traveler, as Jenna immediately stirred herself.

"Of all people-Dalamar!" she snapped, her tone angry. "What are you doing here? Get away from her-get away from both of us!"

"Not so quickly, mistress of the Red Robe," said the man dressed in black. He walked past Coryn as if the girl didn't exist, his eyes fixed upon the woman, his face still creased by that expression of mild amusement.

He was the most magnetic person Cory had ever seen. His eyes were wide and unusually large, shaped kind of like almonds, she decided. His face was so smooth that, though he was clearly an adult, his skin showed no signs of ever having been touched by a razor. The cowl of his black hood covered much of his head, but she could see enough of him to realize that he had light-colored, beautiful hair. He walked with a sense of utter assurance, and even as he crossed the grassy ground-littered with fallen twigs, as she had noticed when gathering firewood-his steps made no sound.

"You are a difficult person to find," said the one called Dalamar. "I have been seeking you for some time, but did not expect to run into you so far from your usual haunts. What brings you here, to wild Qualinesti?"

"I needed to get out of the city," Jenna retorted, without conviction.

"I suspect there is more to it than that. I think you are here for much the same reason that I am here. What I can't figure out-at least, I couldn't figure out until tonight-is why you brought this girl."

"You've been spying on us?" blurted Coryn. "For how long have you been hiding there in the woods?"

"It is no use asking questions of one wearing the black robe," Jenna interjected sharply. "His answer will be what he wants us to hear, but it will bear no relation to the truth."

"Tsk, tsk," Dalamar chided. "Leave it to the Red Robe to lecture about self-serving behavior." He turned to regard Coryn, favoring her with just a hint of a smile. "Has she been treating you well? Teaching you things, is she?"

"I-well, yes. She treats me fairly." Cory was confused, her mind whirling. She felt oddly compelled to come to Jenna's defense. "She is my mistress, and I try to serve her well. But you are wrong about one thing: She is not my teacher."

At that, Dalamar smiled broadly. "I see… you're just a humble servant girl who makes pebbles glow in the dark. Well, that certainly makes sense-can't have the servants stumbling around in the thick of the night. I don't know how many times I've heard Jenna say those very words."

"Who are you?" demanded Coryn. She was undeniably flattered when he bowed, deeply, looking out from the cowl of that dark hood to look her squarely in the eyes.

"Forgive me. I am called Dalamar the Dark, and I have long been an associate of your mistress." Startlingly, he winked. "You can tell by the warm greeting she has offered an old friend, after a long time apart."

"Get away from her-and me. I mean it, Dalamar," Jenna was saying. She stood now, wearing her red robe and glaring at the intruder. "She is the granddaughter of an old friend and has nothing for the likes of you."

Still those almond eyes lingered, making Coryn suddenly conscious that she wore only her nightshirt. She pulled the blankets up over her chest, but continued to meet Dalamar's eyes until, with visible reluctance, he turned back to Jenna.

"I have no ill designs on her, or yourself, for that matter," he said pleasantly. "But we do need to talk, and I have come a long way to find you. Perhaps your… 'servant' could add some wood to this fire, and we might make ourselves comfortable."

Coryn watched Jenna, who glared at Dalamar with an expression of furious distrust. Nevertheless, Jenna finally sighed and nodded in acquiescence. "Bring some more wood," she said to the girl. "And heat some water for tea."

Dalamar turned respectfully away as Coryn shrugged into her trousers. She looked at the dwindling pile of firewood-there was enough for breakfast tea, no more-and she knew she would have to plunge into the dark woods in search of more fuel. She looked at the pebble in her hand, which had now dimmed to nothing; and she didn't dare try the word again. She was reluctant to leave these two, and desperately curious to see what this meeting was about.

Dalamar crossed to Jenna as Coryn broke a log with a loud crack of dry wood. Placing the resulting two sticks on the fire, she picked up another branch, braced it on her knee. She listened, keenly, and from the corner of her eye she watched Jenna, who had all but forgotten her.

The woman in the red robe said one word-it sounded something like shroud-yus-and then all was utterly silent. Cory stared in surprise to see that Jenna was still talking, animated to the point of raising a hand and pointing a finger at Dalamar while she told him what she thought.

But she could hear no words, and there was no sound at all in the still forest clearing.

At length Dalamar raised his hands and Jenna's lips stopped moving. She planted her fists on her hips while the Black Robe began to-apparently-talk. More silent words; still Cory could hear nothing. Jenna glanced at her momentarily, glared, and turned back to Dalamar.

With a shrug, Coryn left the now lively fire and pushed along the little trail next to the stream, where she had gathered much of the firewood from the lower branches of a downed pine. She pulled more of the sticks, dry and brittle, off the trunk as she tried to make sense of this stranger in the forest carrying on a silent argument with Jenna. When she carried her armload of fuel back to the fire, she got another shock.

Dalamar had pulled back his hood to reveal, as Cory has suspected, long and beautiful golden hair. But it was something else that grabbed her attention: the tip of a slender, tapered ear that extended into view through the strands of smooth yellow.

He was an elf!

Even as she absorbed this shock, the two continued to converse while making no sounds that Coryn could discern. Kneeling at the fire, the girl took a little time to tend the blaze, thinking. That one word Jenna had uttered had triggered a magic spell, obviously, some sort of silence cloak that she had drawn over both of them to keep Coryn in the dark. Not a cloak so much as an invisible cone, Cory decided, wondering how large an area it enveloped.

She wondered what they were saying and why she was excluded-how their talk must involve her.

"You're seeking the Tower, aren't you?" Dalamar noted with a triumphant sneer. "And you must think this girl will help you to get in."

Jenna snorted in contempt. "You know the Tower. It gives entry to those the Master wants to let in, and all others might seek it for a lifetime and never even see the entry into the wood. The girl is only a girl."

"Yes, I know the Tower," Dalamar conceded. "I think that the Tower is suffering… weakened. I think it needs help, the help of wizards from all the orders."

Again the Red Robe swatted his notion away. "What orders? Have you seen a wizard worthy of any of the robes, even since the moons have returned?"

The dark elf's expression grew grim. "I have been to see Palin. He's finished with the robe-it seemed like he'd barely noticed that his white moon was back in the skies. Tell me, Jenna-you feel Lunitari again, do you not? The pull of your red goddess, waxing and waning with that sacred circle in the sky?"

"Of course I do. And I know that Nuitari has returned as well, even though I cannot see him. Yet his presence, as it was so many years ago, is once again a thing I can feel."

"Humans are such fools," Dalamar snapped. "Do you know that they call it 'The Night of Two Moons'?"

"I should have thought such pridefulness was beyond your concern," Jenna said. "What does it matter to you, what the humans think?"

The dark elf shrugged. "You're right. It doesn't matter, not in the case of most humans, anyway." He turned his head, his eyes falling upon the dark-haired girl by the fire. She was staring at them with open curiosity, though when she noticed him looking at her, she turned and busied herself by putting another log on the fire. "She'll burn the woods down if you don't give her something else to do," he said wryly.

"Don't worry about her. I was telling the truth-she is a servant, the granddaughter of an old friend, a woman with little means. She rightly believed that coming to work for me might give her a chance at a decent life."

"Really? And what is this dear old friend's name."

Jenna hesitated. "She is Scharon Fallow of Two Forks, from the Icereach. We were friends very many years ago."

"A friend from the Icereach, met as a young woman. I don't believe you traveled that far south, not in those days. Nor would she be likely to come to Palanthas-the Icefolk are notoriously clannish barbarians, after all. So you must have met somewhere between… someplace where you spent some time as a young woman. Someplace like the Tower of High Sorcery in Wayreth Forest, perhaps?"

Jenna rolled her eyes. "You always did have an active imagination. No, Dalamar, not the Tower. There is nothing magical about Scharon Fallow, I assure you. Her father worked for a trader, and she traveled by ship to the north. My family took her in when her father died before he could return home. She lived with us for a year, until I went away to the Tower, as a matter of fact."

"Very well," the elf said, with a dismissive shrug. "In any event, know that I am here to stay. I have decided we should seek the Tower together."

Her eyes narrowed. "You have decided!" She paused, thinking. "You say that Palin has renounced the robes, any part in this quest?"

"He seems content to grow fat and happy next to his hearth fire, lording it over that pathetic village and letting his wife and sister cater to his every whim."

Jenna, for the first time, smiled slightly. "He stung your pride, I take it."

"I care not," the elf said with an elaborate shrug. "Except that we are without the use of our greatest potential ally."

"I am fully prepared to do what I need to do, alone," Jenna said sharply. "I don't need you."

"And I told you that I am not prepared to let you do that."

They stared at each other for several minutes. Neither noticed that Coryn was intensely staring at them; she had been futilely trying to lip-read their stalemate.

Jenna sighed and spoke more gently. "All right. You're right-we'll have a better chance together. So let's get moving." She turned toward the fire, stepping out of the invisible cone of silence as the magic faded around her. "We're going to get the mules loaded," she informed Coryn. "Leave the fire for now-we'll put it out before we get back to the trail."

If the girl had any surprise to spare over this sudden midnight departure, her stoic face did not betray her. Instead, she quickly went to the tethered animals and lifted the harness over the head of each.

"If you help," Jenna told Dalamar, "we'll get out of here faster."

"Your servant seems quite capable," said the dark elf with that slim smile.

Muttering to herself, Jenna bundled up her own bedroll and carefully checked the saddlebags on Dora, those containing all of her spell books, as well as assorted other tools she had brought along to help with the quest. She sent Coryn to take care of the cooking kit while she called angrily to Dalamar.

"At least give me a hand with these packs!"

He came over and helped her lift the big leather sacks over Dora's back, holding them in place while he watched Cory. With practiced gestures, the girl nested the plates and cups within the cook pot and brought them over to the mules.

Jenna was leaning over to buckle the snaps when the first arrow came out of the darkness. It thwacked loudly into the saddlebag, inches from her shoulder.

"We're under attack!" she shouted, spinning around and staring into the darkness. Light flared behind her as Dalamar barked a spell. In the surge of illumination she saw a half dozen scruffy, bearded men sprinting toward them. Others were unseen beyond them, and two more arrows came winging from the darkness.

"Deflectu-denius!" Dalamar cried, raising his clenched fists before him, crossing his arms at the wrists. One arrow struck the place where his arms were crossed and sputtered into nothingness; the other soared harmlessly over their heads.

Jenna peered into the darkness, past the men who suddenly hesitated at this clear evidence of magic. She spotted two figures in the shadows beyond, archers drawing fresh missiles into their bows.

"Braacius!" shouted the Red Robe. A crackling missile, like an arrow trailing sputtering fire, flew toward the dark stranger. She repeated the command and a second magical dart shot through the night. They struck the archers squarely and the two bowmen shrieked in pain, stumbling backward, swatting at the sparks that sputtered and flared from their clothing.

One of the bandits had a surge of boldness and came charging toward Jenna with an upraised sword. She ducked to the side, letting go of Dora's bridle as the sword whooshed through the air near her head. A bark of sound from Dalamar turned that sword into a striking viper-at least, that's how it looked to Jenna and, even more important, to the swordsman. He suddenly held a lashing snake by the tail, and-with fanged maw gaping-the serpent curled around, driving for a bite at that hand. With a shriek, the man hurled his weapon away, the writhing blade flying into the midst of the bucking mules.

Diva and Dolly pitched back, but remained tethered to the ground. Dora, her heavy saddlebags flopping, had been loosed from her hitch. With a neigh of terror she kicked up her heels. The mule surged forward and Jenna tumbled to the ground. She lay stunned, vaguely aware of the clattering hooves as Dora galloped away, following the demoralized band of thieves as they ran into the night.

"Dammit-Coryn, get the mule!" shouted the Red Robe. "She has my books!" Jenna pushed herself to her feet, and saw the dark elf striding into the woods, his black robe vanishing into the shadows. Jenna plunged after, listening for sounds of the mule's plunging passage through the woods.

She gave scant thought to the bandits, all of whom had run this same way along the stream bank. If any stood between her and her books she would kill them without a second thought. But the way the group had scattered, she expected they wouldn't stop running until dawn.

Branches crackled to her left, and she felt a surge of relief as she heard the nickering of a frightening mule. Dalamar was there, holding Dora and soothing the mule with gentle strokes on the long nose. The two saddlebags, still bulging with arcane treasures, remained securely in place.

Together they led the trembling animal back through the woods, to the small clearing. The fire was there, still crackling merrily.

But Coryn was nowhere to be seen.