Sorcerer's Vendetta (The Secret of Zanalon) (6 page)

Cautiously, Rachel stepped out from behind the tree and approached him. She was not trying to be particularly quiet; she doubted, in his agitated state, he would have heard a llama gallop up behind him and blow a raspberry.

I don't even know what to call him. What do I say? Excuse me, Sorcey Baby, but have you bats in your belfry?

She reached up to touch his shoulder. "Sir..?"

He spun halfway, glared at her. Then he turned back, yelled, "Thou allowest
her
to sneak up behind me, anon? I thank thee much for naught!"

Again, the spin, the glare. Then he looked at her feet, back to her eyes.

"Watch it, wench!" he exploded, shoving her back. "Sweet Fire and Air, thou hast broken my pentagram!"

She stared at him, her fuse smoking.
Back to 'wench', is it?

"Your pentagram?" She looked down at her feet. Around her was a perfect five-pointed star, circled, in white powder.

"Your pentagram?"
she repeated, her fuse disappearing.

"I'm
so
sorry, did something go wrong?" Her smile gleamed shark's teeth. "Oh, by the way, my name is Rachel Floyd. Dr. Rachel Floyd. Not 'wench'."

Rachel went ka-blooey. She stomped out a crazy dance, kicking and scuffling until the precise lines of powder were completely obliterated. Then she glared back at him, huffing.

"And that's what I think about your precious pentagram," she snapped.

The look in his eyes made her wish for a Serenity she had never known. Rachel blinked. It now occurred to her she might be making a dreadful mistake. Her imagination provided a little sideshow: the Sorcerer zapping her with an evil eye and her head popping, gore galore. Oops.

Oh, come on, there's no such thing as magic. Have I really seen him do anything that can't be explained otherwise? I was staring at the pedestal, maybe they had a winch (grrrr, too close to
that
word) hooked up to the statue, yanked it off the pedestal and he jumped out ... Smoke and mirrors.  It was dark, did I close my eyes when he yelled? God, what a patsy I've been, leading everyone away from the scene of the crime, taking the fall –

Now that she had talked herself out of her terror, her glare re-flared. "Yesterday I had a life. I was somebody. It wasn't always great but it was my life. I was really looking forward to meeting a fellow professor of art history, working on a book together, maybe something ... Uh ... never mind. Now I'm out here, a fugitive with a God-knows-what – crazy or a con man. I want to know what's going on. I want to know, NOW."

She paused, took a deep breath. "And no, I don't believe in magic,
Sorcey Baby
," she finished.

His blue eyes gleamed. Ice fire fury. The Sorcerer's next exhalation was a growl, his hand a flash of snake's fangs.

Rachel squeaked. He snatched her arm, spun her with him as he commenced a determined march, back the way they had come.

"Oooowww." Her courage shriveled, deserted by her anger as he dragged her after him, back toward the truck.

"Doctor ... Rachel ... Floyd," he said, punctuating each word with a nasty yank on her arm. "Thou mayest continue to address me as 'Sir.' It hast been long ere I have trusted anyone with my true name." He glanced back at her. Even through the intense anger in his eyes, she saw a glint of pain.

"I am known as the Sorcerer," he continued, "not because I am the only one of my time but because I am the best." His voice strained through his clenched teeth and his tone changed to condescending sarcasm. "Aye, but
thou
dost not believe in magick. 'Tis
reality
thou desires."

He stormed through the now dark woods, blazing his path like a flaming arrow in flight. Rachel dangled at the end of his arm, a broken yo-yo.

What's he going to do? Is he going to kill me?
Now she knew what terror was.
I just had to shoot my mouth off.

Finally, they stood before the truck.

"I will show thee what is
real
," he hissed.

He hauled her around, pulled her tight in front of him. His right arm locked under her armpit, his hand snaked up until his palm held her forehead and forced her head back against his chest. She grimaced as some kind of connection forged between them, almost painful in its intensity. His heart was pounding, vibrating through her. For a moment, all was silent under the shadowed mist of the dark trees, save for the moisture dripping slowly from the leaves and the sound of his breathing, harsh in his anger.

"Now," he whispered by her ear.
"See."

The Sorcerer began to speak, as he raised his free hand.

"Arianta, alistin kirian tur ka. Arianta, tur rantar!"

Above, the flat clouds responded. They began to boil, flickering lightnings gathering to a central point. A blue glow sparked to life above his palm.

Her eyes went wide.

The glow grew. It spun, turning white, yellow, larger, until it was a ball of fire twice the size of her head.

"Rhaman terra revolion. Arianta, tur KA!"

The molten mass of fire arced from his hand, rushed toward the hood of the truck. Everything exploded in front of her face.

"My God! Oh, my God!" She screamed and tried to turn from the white-hot skeleton of steel but still he held her pinned.

"No. Not yet. Look.
Look.
"

The explosion settled into blazing flames, crackling voraciously, reflected red in the churning sky. At first she could see nothing but the fire, and then she did see –  something else. Part of the flame pulled away from the rest, a large, nebulous cloud, about six feet tall, roughly ovular, colored yellow-orange as the flame but slightly more transparent. It hovered close to the twisted sheet of metal that had been the hood, now blasted open.

Behind it, something else separated itself, half its size, sparkling white-blue. It came from an area inside what was left of the engine and moved more quickly, circling and fluttering to pause behind the larger other.

Even smaller, about the size of her outstretched hand, another white-blue ball flitted from inside the cab to hover by the upper area of the largest flame-like cloud.

Rachel was rapt.

The Sorcerer loosened his hold, brought his free hand up to take the place of the other at her forehead, slipped the pinning arm slowly down to hold lightly around her waist. She shivered at the gentler touch, acutely aware of his hold. He could feel her breathing, she knew, and he knew it was more from excitement now than fear.

"God," she whispered. "They're elementals, aren't they?"

"Aye. All my life I have been able to see them, hear them, feel what they feel. We are connected. Watch."

He raised his hand again, palm open toward them, and said something in their language. The littlest white-blue globe suddenly zipped toward his hand. Rachel, startled, ducked slightly; still, she felt him flinch when it struck. It passed through his hand completely, circled the two of them once, and shot straight up into the air, disappearing.

"Did that hurt?" she asked.

"'Twas too small to take much," was his cryptic answer.

Even as he spoke, the largest one shimmered, changing.

"That is the wild one I summoned. Pure fire." His voice was low, by her ear. "It is her power I directed to free the minor elementals held captive within thy science-driven devices. Akin to lightning, they were."

It took a vague outline, within the shifting globe, slightly more solid in a rough human shape, crouching on the slope of bent metal, the outer shining even more transparent. And then it was as if a lens had been added, defining.

Perched on the burning slab stood an ethereal woman, flame shifting about her, clothing her in elegant mystery, like flowing hair, yet not. Some shifts of light made it look like she wore the shining armor of a Valkyrie, at other shifts she was clothed in a gauzy, light garment, blending around her. It was hard to look directly at her; it could have been only her own glistening hair, after all. She was beyond earthly beauty, on her face a look of triumph, her fiery gaze fixed on the eyes of the Sorcerer.

And then she shimmered again, just a touch. Her appearance changed. Rachel realized, surprised and flattered, that though the lady was as beautiful as ever, she now resembled Rachel herself.

Behind her, the Sorcerer drew breath.

The fire spirit smiled, graciously, yet with a hint of mischief in her bright eyes.

She leapt down toward them, floating silently, and the other glow followed, hesitant. She turned from the Sorcerer to look at the smaller white-blue creature and slowly knelt, holding out her arms.

Now the white-blue glow changed in a crackling glimmer. It became a little girl, clothed as the lady but in sparkling innocence. She stood, hugging herself, facing the lady of fire, her large, woeful eyes on the Sorcerer.

She needs a teddy bear,
Rachel thought, her eyes brimming.

The white-shining little girl turned to the golden lady, took a hesitant step---so shy, so afraid. The lady cocked her head, smiled. At that the girl broke through her fear and dashed to hug her, clinging to her neck.

The lady held her, then pulled back slightly and held the little one's face; she looked at her for a long moment, her flame eyes gentle. When she stood, she bent protectively over the girl, her arm about the girl's shoulders. The lady of fire turned the young one toward the two mortals.

The Sorcerer moved carefully to Rachel's right, shifting his hands so that they never left her.

"Do not break contact," he said by her ear. "Whate'er I do."

He didn't have to tell her she would not be able to see them if she did. He knelt, looking at the little girl, and Rachel kept a light touch on his shoulder from behind him.

The lady started the girl toward him with a gentle pressure at her back. The little girl took a few steps, her eyes wide. The Sorcerer remained still except to open his arms a little more.

She moved closer, reaching out, shyly. The look on her face began to change, from fear to gratitude. And hunger.

At her touch he stiffened slightly. The girl hesitated, looking in his eyes, and he shook his head once, said something low, encouraging. The shining little girl moved closer, slowly, until she was hugging him, on her face a blissful, loving look. Under her hand, Rachel could feel him trembling.

Is she hurting him?

Rachel went down on one knee at his side, opposite where the little girl snuggled into his shoulder. She moved her hand to the tense, bunched muscle joining his shoulder and neck and stared at his profile, concerned. His eyes were half-open, glazed, but she couldn't really say what he was feeling.

At last, the little girl pulled back and looked in his eyes, suddenly shy again. The Sorcerer nodded at her, with a tired smile. Rachel didn't see how it happened but she was holding something now.

A teddy bear.

The little girl clutched it close and smiled back at the Sorcerer, dazzling. Quickly she jumped to kiss his forehead, then turned to beam at the fire lady, showing her the bear. With a glance back to the Sorcerer, sparkling, spinning, she was gone in a flash toward the flickering blue clouds, exciting the lightning within on reunion to white splashes, rippling outward. Then the sky returned to calm, gray clouds. It was a thinner veil for the moon than before, promising a glimpse of stars.

The Sorcerer sighed deeply, then tried to stand. He nearly succeeded, but then his eyes glazed again and he slumped to the ground, turning to strike on his shoulder, barely catching himself on his hands. Rachel, in contact, went down on her knees beside him.

"Are you alright?"

He nodded, his glossy black hair slung partly across his face. Still, she discerned the slightly puzzled expression there. It was clear he hadn't expected to be quite this weakened. His voice was a rough whisper. "I must pay her, however... The little one we released from your engine was so starved. I doubt I have enough life-force left ... "

The formidable lady of fire moved closer. The Sorcerer struggled to push himself up to his knees, obviously uncomfortable with appearing so helpless before her. He managed to get one leg in front of him, then his shoulders slumped slightly and he released a lungful of air, exhausted. Leaning on his forward knee, he looked up at the beautiful elemental.

"Arianta, kio lirias tev. Ki tus – " His tone was regretful, apologetic.

She shook her head with a half smile, interrupting him in a voice that whispered of the rush of flame.

"Ki se. Ki lirias tev."

The Sorcerer froze, stared back at her in surprise. To Rachel, he said, "She says she will pay
me.
" Then back to the fire-lady, "Ri lirias? Kah, kah – " He shook his head and held his hands out as if to hold her back but then she reached out, made light contact with his face.

At the touch he went rigid but this time Rachel could tell what he felt. Her touch was rapture.

The lady brought her hands up, slowly, and the Sorcerer came to his feet easily, as if she were lifting him, fulfilling him. Rachel, feeling heat from the lady that apparently did not burn the Sorcerer, drew back, tracing along his arm. He extended his reach, his free hand lifting slightly in balance, to give her distance, until she barely touched his outstretched hand. The lady of flame moved closer to him, her hands gently caressing along his jawline while he stood as if at attention, his chest heaving. His breath came hard and ragged.