The Sorcerer's Daughter Page 2

  It was her voice, of course. The power of her voice was enough to destroy someone as powerful as the witch Mischa—now, there was magic the Druid order would love to get its hands on! If Chrysallin could be persuaded to use it for their purposes…

  But of course, it wasn’t that simple. Chrys had suffered a breakdown during her battle with Mischa and had blocked out all memory of what had transpired. She had no idea that she possessed this power, no hint she had inherited the fabled wishsong from her Ohmsford ancestors.

  Leofur turned, looking away from the forest and down into the south courtyard where the gardens flourished. Chrysallin sat amid a profusion of colors and scents, her eyes closed, her hands clasped loosely in her lap, meditating. It was Leofur who had taught her this technique.

  As she watched Paxon’s sister, Leofur took note of her stillness, her calm. And her thoughts returned to her own lack of both.

  It had been a hard decision to come north with Paxon, yet she had done so anyway. She had valued her independence in Wayford, where her home and her friends were, but none of these was as important to her as Paxon. He had told her he would have understood if she had chosen to remain behind. He would come back to visit her, he promised, if she decided to stay. But he must leave no matter what her choice, because he feared for his sister and could not bear the thought of losing her again.

  So Leofur had decided, following the path that would keep them together, believing their time as a couple had not yet played out. But she had asked him of their future together, seeking a commitment to buttress her decision. Would he become her life partner? Would he commit to doing so right now?

  He said he would.

  So resolved, they had returned to Paranor, where both were received warmly by Isaturin, Ard Rhys of the Fourth Druid Order. Perhaps he dissembled, but she thought not. Paxon was reunited with his sister and reinstated as the High Druid’s Blade without equivocation. Leofur herself was given leave to pursue any course of study or action she wished. It was all she could have hoped for.

  But what surprised her—and what in the end made all the difference—was the friendship she had found with Chrys.

  It was an unexpected discovery. At first, the two had circled each other like wary cats, each knowing the other held an important place in Paxon’s life, yet neither willing to yield ground. But once the sizing up was completed, Leofur had found herself drawn to Chrys more strongly than she had expected, and they quickly bonded. In part, it was because Chrysallin filled a void. As Paxon’s duties called him away from the Keep for increasingly longer periods of time, Leofur found herself missing the sheer need for her company he had displayed in the early days, and his sister proved an unexpected substitute. But in larger part, it was because Arcannen had scarred both of them permanently. Both had suffered at his hands and were trying to find ways to heal.

  Of course, Chrysallin had been more than a little wary when Leofur had first revealed that she was Arcannen Rai’s daughter. But whatever awkwardness this might have caused was quickly lifted when Leofur explained what her father had done to her in her early years, and how they had been estranged ever since. The fact that Paxon had chosen her as a life partner provided further proof that any relationship between father and daughter—save for the inescapable biological one—had long since vanished.

  In addition, Paxon was eager for Leofur and his sister to be friends, and had asked Leofur to do what she could to help Chrys come to terms with the wishsong magic. Because she was her father’s daughter, Leofur might have some knowledge and understanding of Arcannen’s skills that would help Chrys to develop a mastery of her own. After all, Paxon had come back to Paranor intent on revealing to his sister the truth about her dubious gift, and to help her find a way through the doubt and fear that might arise with the knowledge. And Leofur was in a unique position to help with this.

  Once Chrysallin had been provided with the full story behind her encounter with Mischa, Leofur stepped in to offer what help she could. Paxon arranged for a Druid who was a skilled practitioner of mental projection—a form of magic not so different from the wishsong—to work with Chrys on the practical aspects of mastering its power. Leofur chose to teach Chrys what she knew of developing control over her emotional and mental stability—a skill she’d learned when her own life had become so unpredictable. She started with meditation several times a day, and employed a regimen of sleeping and eating that should mitigate any stress. She helped Chrys come to terms with the aftereffects of Arcannen’s damage by detailing her own experience. She encouraged Chrys to take long walks, to take up crafts and pastimes that would relax her mind while occupying her hands. But mostly, she made herself available as a confidante.

  All of which had led to the breakthrough they had been hoping for. By now, Chrysallin Leah was using her gift regularly and with increasing control, despite the fact that she was still learning.

  Leofur stood on the wall for a moment longer, studying Paxon’s sister, admiring her slender form, her poise and beauty. Chrys was no longer the gawky young girl she had been when she’d first encountered Arcannen Rai. She was three years into her womanhood now, fully grown and undeniably striking, with classic features, huge blue eyes, raven-black hair, and a dazzling smile. She was gaining maturity with the passing of every day, and while Leofur believed herself reasonably attractive and certainly more mature and experienced than her friend, Leofur knew she was not Chrys’s equal.

  How could she be, when Chrysallin Leah had such unlimited potential as a future member of the Druid order?

  As if reading her thoughts, Chrys looked up at her and waved, climbing to her feet. It was time for their walk.

  Leofur went down the stairway to the courtyard and stood waiting on her friend. As she did, she cast her mind back to an earlier time, to Wayford and her now shuttered home—to her life as a tradeswoman and salvager. Then she was on her own, her past an open secret to those who knew her, her future defined mostly by the work she was doing. She remembered how she had learned to be self-sufficient, to need only her own presence to feel complete.

  And it had all been enough until an emotionally battered and terrified Chrysallin Leah had appeared on her doorstep, and everything had changed in an instant—because then Paxon had come, too.

  I do love you, she said to herself. She wished she could say it to his face—but, as always, he was off on a mission for the Druids instead of here, at her side.

  It was hard to have him away so often. Was it any wonder she was not sure of herself in the way she once had been? Here in this distant part of the Four Lands, what was she, after all? The daughter of a fugitive sorcerer hunted by everyone from Druids to Federation soldiers to Elves and Bordermen, who had caused death and destruction on a scale that dwarfed that of entire armies? The life partner of a conflicted Highlander who believed his destiny was to confront and do battle with her father? The close companion of a young woman who commanded ancient magic? All of these? Did she belong here at all, an outsider who on the face of things was accepted but who in the looks and silences of others felt herself under constant scrutiny?

  Her uncertainties were legion, but she kept them under tight control because she knew, in her heart, that—whatever else she was—she was still Paxon’s true north and Chrysallin’s closest friend.

  A bold assessment, this last. Would the role of Chrys’s best friend not better belong to her brother? Yet Leofur didn’t think so. Paxon answered to a higher calling as the Ard Rhys’s Blade, the protector of the Druid order. His duties and obligations did not permit him to be as physically or emotionally close to Chrys as he needed to be. Not in the way Leofur believed necessary, and not in the way Chrys required in order to heal. Leofur might be the true north for Paxon, but she was also the rock to which Chrysallin clung when the worst of her doubts surfaced. It was a great and terrible responsibility for Leofur to assume, but one that kept her anchored to Paranor when the urge to flee back home loomed strong.

  So she forced he
rself to smile as Chrys arrived and greeted her with a hug.

  —

  They passed through the gates and moved onto the meandering paths that wound deep into the forests surrounding Paranor. Every day they took this walk, finding their way to new places, exploring the world beyond the Keep—and giving Chrys fresh opportunities to practice and test the wishsong’s magic. Today was just another day. Sunshine dappled their shoulders and backs, and a soft breeze brushed their faces. All around them, birds sang and darted through the trees.

  Once, this wouldn’t have been the case. Once, wolves and the ghosts of the dead prowled these woods. There were centuries when Paranor sat empty, and centuries more when it was nearly so. A Druid order the size of the current one had not survived the fall of the Keep in the days of the Warlock Lord. But the ghosts and the wolves and the silence had vanished, and now there was life everywhere.

  “You worry about your father, don’t you?” Chrys said to Leofur, after long minutes of silence had removed them from the shadows of the walls. “You think he will show himself soon.”

  Leofur looked at her. “How do you know I am not thinking of Paxon?”

  The other woman grinned. “When you think of Paxon, you have a different expression.”

  Leofur blushed. “Then I am entirely too transparent. Yes, I am thinking of my father. My instincts warn me he is going to resurface. His history suggests it, and I am sure he wants still what he has wanted all along—to gain control over the Druids and their magic. He wants recognition and power, and he won’t quit until he either has achieved his goal or is dead.”

  They walked on in silence, the Keep now lost in the tangle of trees behind them. “I hope Paxon is all right,” Chrys said quietly.

  Paxon had departed for Arishaig two days ago, a key member of a Druid delegation tasked with finding common ground between their order and the Federation. Save for the tribal factions of the reclusive Gnomes, all of the remaining populations had begun to cement relationships that could transcend the ancient, arbitrary boundaries that once had divided them. An acceptance of both magic and science required that everyone do better at working together and spending less time emphasizing their differences. The conclusion of the War on the Prekkendorran and the subsequent defeat of the demon hordes let loose from the Forbidding had left everyone weary of fighting and anxious for peace.

  So this meeting between the Druids and the Federation was a necessary first step toward improving relations, and Paxon Leah was attending as the leader of a Druid Guard who would act as the protectors of Paranor’s official delegation.

  Leofur’s father would love to disrupt such an event, but he was wary of Paxon, having twice faced him and been defeated. Arcannen was no fool; he would be hesitant about going up against the Highlander a third time. Besides, no one had seen or heard from him since the night he had destroyed the Red Slash and killed the young Druid Avelene before being driven off. Most believed he had gone to ground and would stay there. Even though Leofur wasn’t one of these, she didn’t want Chrys to think otherwise.

  “Paxon will be fine,” she said. “Come on, let’s concentrate on your lessons. Why don’t you try something new with your magic today? See if you can find a different way to make it do what you want.”

  So, for a time, Chrys attempted various techniques to make the magic respond as she wished. She understood the principles behind using it well enough. It was the concentration and the sustained effort at shaping it that proved difficult. Mostly, when she struggled, it was because she could not keep focused long enough or implement her imaginings sufficiently to achieve her goals.

  This morning, she tried bringing flowers to bloom from the still-closed buds in which they germinated. A simple enough task, and she had done it before. But on this occasion she succeeded only in wilting the plants. She tried it over and over, and each time she failed.

  “Wait a minute,” Leofur said finally, aware of her friend’s frustration. “I don’t think you are approaching this the right way. Making flowers bloom doesn’t mean anything special to you.”

  Chrysallin looked confused. “What do you mean?”

  “For magic to work, it has to come first and foremost from the heart. It has to be connected to your feelings, your desires. My father once told me that magic responds best when the emotions that fuel it are strongest. So try to do something that really means something to you. After all, that’s why it is called the wishsong.”

  They walked on a bit farther, Leofur glancing skyward as a pair of tiny yellow finches flew over. “I know,” she said. “Try calling those finches to you. Summon them with your magic.”

  They stood in place as Chrys began to hum softly, drawing the magic up from within. She found the music in her mind as she improvised from her memory of dozens of different birdsongs. Her voice shaped a call—a series of soft chirps followed by a whistle. She started and stopped, clearly unable to decide if she was taking the correct approach, but she went back to it in seconds, starting anew and keeping control of her emotions.

  Slowly, she steadied, and her song rose into the air, loud and clear.

  Leofur had no idea if Chrysallin sounded anything like a real finch, but she didn’t interfere with her friend’s efforts. The sounds were melodic and bright in the forest silence, and suddenly birds all around began calling back.

  “Chrys…,” Leofur said, glancing around hurriedly.

  A chill ran down her back. Birds were flying at them from everywhere, swooping through the air and landing on nearby branches, sending back their own calls, bright and eager. There were handfuls at first, then dozens, and finally hundreds. Leofur flinched in spite of herself as some flew dangerously close. Would they attack? She glanced at Chrys and found her in something resembling a trance, her eyes closed and her head thrown back as she gave voice to her improvised song.

  “Chrysallin!” she whispered urgently, wanting the other to see. “Look!”

  The other girl responded, opening her eyes to find hundreds of brightly colored birds flying past, sweeping and fluttering and singing. Her face lit up with pleasure. “Oh, Leofur!” she gasped, and quit singing.

  Instantly the birds disappeared, scattering in all directions once the spell was broken.

  Leofur started laughing. “Look what you did! Shades!”

  Chrys embraced her excitedly. “I just sang like I remembered birds could sing! I wasn’t even trying all that hard. I was simply…letting go.”

  Leofur hugged her back. “Now remember how you did it. Remember how that felt the next time you use the magic. You did something important just now! Something wonderful. I’m so happy for you!”

  Her friend was crying, unable to steady herself, and Leofur sat her down on the woodland floor and held her. This hadn’t been all that difficult, but every accomplishment brought her a step closer to mastering the magic.

  Chrys drew back finally, her face wet. “I’m not even sure what I did, Leofur. I don’t know if I can repeat it. I don’t have any idea at all what a finch sounds like—”

  “No, Chrys,” Leofur interrupted quickly. “You’re missing the point! It doesn’t matter what a finch sounds like. You wanted to call birds to you, and you fashioned a song that did so. You brought hundreds of them! Your magic was doing more than you expected! Can’t you see?”

  They began laughing, and finally Chrysallin nodded in agreement. “I do see. It’s good, isn’t it? I did call all those birds. I used my magic to bring them to me. And I didn’t hurt anyone! I wasn’t afraid, and I wasn’t unsure. I knew I was using the magic in the right way.”

  They hugged again, and Leofur whispered, “Remember this day. Remember how it began. You made the magic work like you wanted it to, Chrys. Really work.”

  Then she was crying, too.

  —

  They walked on after that, but Chrys did not want to use the magic again right away. Mostly, they talked about what other uses they could find for it. Chrys wanted to try summoning other creatures,
particularly butterflies, even though she had no idea how to do that. But having summoned birds with as little intent, she was confident she could do the same with butterflies. Or dragonflies. Or even small animals.

  Leofur thought she should try her skills on controlling the elements—earth, wind, fire, and water. From what Paxon had told her, that was the traditional use of the wishsong, and Chrys should attempt to learn what her ancestors had managed to achieve. Leofur firmly believed that Chrysallin should always try to exceed her perceived limits. Why not push against the resistance that had held her back for so long? Why not make sure she had broken through her emotional restraints for good?

  “Oh, I don’t care what I do next,” Chrysallin gushed finally, “just so I do something! Just so I keep trying new things and not worrying about what they might do to me. I’m not afraid anymore, Leofur! I know I can use this magic safely. I know I can use it and not hurt others!”

  “Just keep that in mind. You have the ability to master it and keep it from mastering you.” Leofur paused. “Wait until you tell Paxon about this!”

  They had wandered much farther away from the Keep than they had intended, and quickly turned around when they realized. Still talking about Chrys’s breakthrough and arguing about which way to go next, they walked back through the deep woods, absorbed in their conversation. The day remained sunny and bright, but inside the forest it was heavily layered with shadows and very still.

  In the trees around them, the birds had stopped singing.

  Leofur noticed first. She stopped talking, motioning for her companion to do the same, and listened. Everything had gone still. She forced herself to keep walking, even though her instincts told her she should run. Chrys glanced at her, then looked around in alarm. She sensed it, too. Someone or something was out there, hidden in the trees, in the shadows, watching. “Leofur?” she whispered.

  Leofur shook her head and kept walking. There was nothing to do now but keep moving. Whoever was out there would reveal themselves when they were ready…