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Authors: Irene Radford
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healing.
If only he had some Tambootie leaves in his pouch . . . He’d heard rumors that Queen Maarie Kaathliin’s father needed the Tambootie to cure a plague in his homeland.
Was this the same plague? The disease caused by machines? He hoped not, but he recalled a grove of Tambootie that grew nearby. He’d stolen some of the leaves as a child and experimented with them until his father had exiled him from the family. Once he eased the fever and strengthened his mother a little, he’d fetch the leaves of the tree of magic.
If he tapped a ley line, he could effect some repairs to her body to buy him more time.
No. The Commune had valid reasons for outlawing rogue magic.
He inhaled deeply on three counts, held it three counts, and exhaled on the same rhythm. His body relaxed. He repeated the exercise, and his mind drifted away from the confines of bone and flesh. A third deep breath brought him within reach of the void between the planes of existence.
(There are lessons to be learned in the void. Do not enter unless you are prepared to expose the truth,) a voice whispered into the back of his mind.
As he hesitated to join with the allure of the void, a ley line filled with magical energy pulsed beneath the ground near the center of the village.
He reached out to tap the line, let it flood him with strength.
Revulsion replaced the magical energy. NO! He couldn’t use ley lines and he couldn’t access the void. Powwell had had to leave the protection of the Commune in order to use rogue magic in his search for Kalen. Bessel couldn’t risk his membership in the Commune.
Dragon magic had limitations, especially when a magician worked alone. But when the Commune worked in concert, their magnified spells could overpower any solitary magician. They could impose rules and regulations, ethics and honor, on all magicians. Rogue magicians had perpetuated civil war in Coronnan for three generations, all in their quest for power, until Nimbulan had discovered dragon magic and created a lasting peace with King Quinnault’s help.
Bessel risked the wrath of the Commune and the dragons if he violated their most sacred law. He had to help his mother using only legal magic, no matter how limited.
Breathe in, one, two, three. Hold, one, two, three. Breathe out, one, two, three. This time he concentrated on remaining in contact with the flow of dragon energies within his body. Power tingled in his fingertips. He ran his hand down the length of his mother’s wasted body, keeping a thin cushion of energy between his hand and her skin. The heat of her fever, the disintegration and bleeding within her lungs, the irregular rhythm of her heart pulsed at his sensitized hand.
He felt the rupturing of blood vessels deep within her body. His mind saw her internal organs collapsing.
No part of her body was free of the disease.
“Oh, M’ma,” he wailed. “I can’t help you.” If he’d come earlier. If he could tap a ley line to give him the magical energy to repair some of her vital organs . . . But he could not do it. He would not bring rogue magic back into Coronnan—even to help his mother.
Chapter 5
Early spring, the road below Myrilandel’s clearing that runs across the pass from Coronnan into Rossemeyer, southeastern corner of Coronnan
Y aala clutched Powwell’s hand in eager anticipation. His palm was as hot and moist as her own.
The long winter of waiting for the pass to clear had ended. Spring had burst forth in this remote mountain pass a few days ago. The time had come to take the next long step in reclaiming her heritage.
At last she was going home to Hanassa, the only place she belonged. She daydreamed of clearing the city of mercenaries, outlaws, thieves, and murderers, making it a haven for the innocent refugees of war and poverty rather than a lawless haven for those who caused war and poverty. With the help of the machines hidden deep within the lava tube tunnels of the old volcano crater, she
If only he had some Tambootie leaves in his pouch . . . He’d heard rumors that Queen Maarie Kaathliin’s father needed the Tambootie to cure a plague in his homeland.
Was this the same plague? The disease caused by machines? He hoped not, but he recalled a grove of Tambootie that grew nearby. He’d stolen some of the leaves as a child and experimented with them until his father had exiled him from the family. Once he eased the fever and strengthened his mother a little, he’d fetch the leaves of the tree of magic.
If he tapped a ley line, he could effect some repairs to her body to buy him more time.
No. The Commune had valid reasons for outlawing rogue magic.
He inhaled deeply on three counts, held it three counts, and exhaled on the same rhythm. His body relaxed. He repeated the exercise, and his mind drifted away from the confines of bone and flesh. A third deep breath brought him within reach of the void between the planes of existence.
(There are lessons to be learned in the void. Do not enter unless you are prepared to expose the truth,) a voice whispered into the back of his mind.
As he hesitated to join with the allure of the void, a ley line filled with magical energy pulsed beneath the ground near the center of the village.
He reached out to tap the line, let it flood him with strength.
Revulsion replaced the magical energy. NO! He couldn’t use ley lines and he couldn’t access the void. Powwell had had to leave the protection of the Commune in order to use rogue magic in his search for Kalen. Bessel couldn’t risk his membership in the Commune.
Dragon magic had limitations, especially when a magician worked alone. But when the Commune worked in concert, their magnified spells could overpower any solitary magician. They could impose rules and regulations, ethics and honor, on all magicians. Rogue magicians had perpetuated civil war in Coronnan for three generations, all in their quest for power, until Nimbulan had discovered dragon magic and created a lasting peace with King Quinnault’s help.
Bessel risked the wrath of the Commune and the dragons if he violated their most sacred law. He had to help his mother using only legal magic, no matter how limited.
Breathe in, one, two, three. Hold, one, two, three. Breathe out, one, two, three. This time he concentrated on remaining in contact with the flow of dragon energies within his body. Power tingled in his fingertips. He ran his hand down the length of his mother’s wasted body, keeping a thin cushion of energy between his hand and her skin. The heat of her fever, the disintegration and bleeding within her lungs, the irregular rhythm of her heart pulsed at his sensitized hand.
He felt the rupturing of blood vessels deep within her body. His mind saw her internal organs collapsing.
No part of her body was free of the disease.
“Oh, M’ma,” he wailed. “I can’t help you.” If he’d come earlier. If he could tap a ley line to give him the magical energy to repair some of her vital organs . . . But he could not do it. He would not bring rogue magic back into Coronnan—even to help his mother.
Chapter 5
Early spring, the road below Myrilandel’s clearing that runs across the pass from Coronnan into Rossemeyer, southeastern corner of Coronnan
Y aala clutched Powwell’s hand in eager anticipation. His palm was as hot and moist as her own.
The long winter of waiting for the pass to clear had ended. Spring had burst forth in this remote mountain pass a few days ago. The time had come to take the next long step in reclaiming her heritage.
At last she was going home to Hanassa, the only place she belonged. She daydreamed of clearing the city of mercenaries, outlaws, thieves, and murderers, making it a haven for the innocent refugees of war and poverty rather than a lawless haven for those who caused war and poverty. With the help of the machines hidden deep within the lava tube tunnels of the old volcano crater, she
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