AllFreeNovel
Share Us
‘Clariel! Take its submission! That’s what you want!’ called Mogget.
Clariel stood over the kneeling creature and raised her fist, ready to bring it down on the back of the creature’s head, just where it met that spindle of a neck. But as she did so, she felt some of her power ebb. Turning, she saw Aziminil back away, bowing as she did so.
‘Mistress, you wished to bind this one, not kill. Make it serve you and we shall all turn against your true enemies.’
True enemies. Bind to serve …
The thoughts penetrated Clariel’s enraged mind. The lessening of power from Aziminil took the edge off her rage. She faltered, suddenly unsure of what she was doing. The rage faded a little further, and some rationality returned.
Clariel turned back to the kneeling Baazalanan and laid just one finger on its head. This time, it was her turn to find a way into its strange, cool mind, to extend a mental grip upon its thoughts.
‘Swear to serve me forever, or be destroyed.’
‘I will serve, Mistress,’ said the creature.
Clariel lifted her finger, and stepped back, her mind withdrawing from the creature as she took the step. She took another, and swayed, and then fell to her knees. Aziminil and Baazalanan did not move, and she still could not see Mogget.
But she could hear the tumble of stones being pushed aside, and looking across, she saw a multitude of sendings gathered beyond the destroyed doorway, the half dozen at the front straining against one enormous boulder that still blocked their way.
‘Take me gently through the waterfall and safely to the western shore of the Ratterlin,’ she ordered. ‘Do not touch my skin. Be quick!’
The two Free Magic creatures bowed. Sparks of white light began to form upon their strange bodies, small flames flickered from blood-red and inky-blue flesh and then larger flames till with a whoosh both entities were columns of white fire, bright as the sun but completely without heat. The columns moved towards Clariel and began to change again, shaping themselves into two halves of a globe. Clariel staggered to her feet as they began to close around her and looked across to where she had left her sword on the floor. It was too late to fetch it now.
Too late to change her mind.
A white cat erupted out of the open chest that had held the robes and zoomed towards her, jumping at the last second through the gap between the closing hemispheres and into her arms. Clariel caught him by reflex, too weary even to be very much surprised.
‘You’re coming then?’
‘I believe I am,’ said Mogget. He sounded surprised himself. ‘Don’t touch my collar!’
‘Why not?’
‘It will break the globe, and we will be left here.’
Clariel nodded. She barely had the strength to do that, and certainly couldn’t keep talking. There was no fury left in her, and her legs felt like they might buckle at any moment. She shut her eyes as the white globe closed around her, and held Mogget close. He surprised her again by beginning to purr, though he stopped almost immediately, perhaps because he’d noticed he was purring.
She could sense the surface thoughts at least of Aziminil and Baazalanan. They were servile, wanting to obey her every command, intent on carrying her safely through the waterfall.
Her servants had done as she bid, and would continue to do so.
The globe rolled to the edge of the cavern, though inside Clariel felt no motion. On the edge it stopped for a second, then rolled again, entering the cascade with a great boom and an explosion of sparks that lit up the whole waterfall and the lowlands beneath for several leagues, as if a small sun had fallen with the river.
chapter twenty-nine
once were dragons
A league downstream from the waterfall the globe of white fire rolled ashore and split in half. Clariel staggered shakily out onto a beach of many tiny pebbles that offered uncertain footing, so she had to stoop and put one hand down to regain her balance. Mogget jumped out of her arms and sniffed the air. Whatever he smelt seemed to satisfy him, for he wandered over to the shallows and stared into the water, one paw raised.
Nearby, the fiery hemispheres dulled and shifted, Aziminil and Baazalanan resuming their more familiar shapes. As Clariel stood up, they bowed their heads, the picture of model servants.
Clariel looked at them, up at the moon high above, then back towards the waterfall, a streak of white against the darkness of the Long Cliffs. It was hard to believe she had escaped, that she had two Free Magic servants, not to mention the dubious assistance of Mogget. The way was now clear to go back to Belisaere and do what must be done, and then finally be released to start her proper life in the Forest.
Insects buzzed around her head, midges of some kind, reminding Clariel that her face was bloodied, and her hand. She walked back down to the water’s edge, knelt there, took off her gauntlets and undid the hood of her robe and the straps of her mask. But when she tried to take the mask off, it was stuck fast and wouldn’t move. Clariel shrugged and splashed water over it and through the mouth hole, thinking it must be dried blood that held it to her skin. But even then it still wouldn’t move, and she began to grow afraid. She plunged her head into the river, into the fast-running water. Holding her breath she worked at the mask, till at last it came free with a sickening pang in her forehead.
Trembling, Clariel touched her fingers to her baptismal Charter mark. It glowed softly as she touched it, but the light that reflected on the river was wrong, not the warm golden glow she was used to. This was whiter, brighter, though still tinged
with gold.
Clariel hesitated, then tried to reach for the Charter, to conjure a simple light. It was the first spell she’d learned, something she knew well and she could nearly always make it work. But the Charter wasn’t there, or she could no longer feel its presence. Yet she knew it was everywhere, the Charter made up all things, it described the world and everything in it …
Except Free Magic. That was outside the Charter.
‘But I wore the robe, the mask …’ whispered Clariel. She touched her forehead Charter mark again, and once more reached for the Charter. This time, she felt it, but far away. No great drift of marks fell upon her; they stayed as distant as the stars above, and just as out of reach. But even that far, momentary glimpse relieved Clariel. She had never really valued the Charter, neither understood it nor wanted to know more, but she felt its absence keenly.
It felt wrong, unnatural.
‘Mogget!’ she called.
The cat came back from the edge of the river, his paws and whiskers wet and a look of satisfaction on his face.
‘Mogget,’ said Clariel. ‘My Charter mark … something’s happened to it, and I can’t … I can’t reach the Charter. You told me the robes would protect me from the Free Magic.’
‘The Charter and Free Magic are antithetical,’ said Mogget. ‘When you use one, you cannot use the other. Binding Free Magic creatures, drawing on their power … it weakens the Charter within you.’
‘You didn’t tell me that,’ said Clariel.
‘I thought you knew,’ said Mogget. He examined his left paw, and licked off a tiny shred of fish. ‘Common knowledge among real Abhorsens.’
‘What will happen to me?’ asked Clariel, touching her forehead again.
‘The Clayr may See your future. I cannot make predictions.’
‘Mogget! Answer me properly, or I’ll … leave you behind.’
