Sorcerer's Vendetta (The Secret of Zanalon) (7 page)

"
Che va ki, Zanalon. Dur va
," the elemental whispered. The Sorcerer seemed disturbed by this but did not translate. Instead, he dropped his hand slightly, breaking contact with Rachel.

Still, Rachel could see.

Floating close, the fire spirit drew the Sorcerer in to an ethereal, empowering kiss. Rachel, watching, felt blood rush to her face. A spark of jealousy flickered.

Jealousy? What am I thinking? I can't be thinking of him that way.
She dropped her eyes, then defiantly brought them up again, rebelling against her unwanted emotions.
What's wrong with me? Alright, maybe I'm lonely... I attach so easily... first Rollin, now this Sorcerer...
I don't even know his name and Rollin I'd never even seen. Mysterious men, anyone?
The green spark died in confusion, gave way to a bizarre connection with the elemental. It was as if she were watching herself, after all. That was even harder to deal with.

The elemental slowly drew back, her gaze deep into the Sorcerer's, a hint of finality in her look. Then she smiled, sadly, even as her essence brightened, shimmering, and swirled into a shower of sparks, rising to blend with the stars.

Rachel watched until the last spark disappeared.

"I think I understand now," she whispered.

He turned to look at her and she felt that strange rush when their eyes met. She turned to the cloud scattered sky, hoping it didn't show, and he followed her gaze. "Dost thou?" he said. "I cannot say as much."

She gave him a you-must-be-kidding look and he shrugged.

"'Til anon I knew not that they could return life force to me. Always that has been my payment for the use of their power; only with rest did I rebuild, though slightly stronger, with even greater capacity for their mana. Mayhaps she felt she owed it me, because I gave my strength to the others who were starving in their captivity. She knew I had naught left for her, though it were she who helped me. I know not. This I do know, I cannot count on that happening again."

"They don't really look like that, do they? Human, I mean."

"Nay," he answered, his eyes again on the sky. "They
are
spirits. This was quite a special occurrence. Methinks they wanted to express their despair in captivity and their joy at my return. I sense ... other messages, as well. She called me Zanalon. She has never done that before.” He lowered his eyes and shook his head, apparently bemused.

“Zanalon? Sounds nice. I was just thinking that I don't even know your name. What does it mean? May I call you that?”

The Sorcerer turned slowly and looked at her silently for a moment. He cocked his head, his expression going from doubtful hesitation to a wry half smile, pleased, yet slightly mischievous. Then he gave the barest of nods. She noticed he didn't tell her what it meant, however.

She chuckled, even though she didn't get the joke.
OK, he'll tell me when the time is right.  I'm sure it doesn't mean something like “chipmunk,” anyway.
“Alright, then, Zanalon it is. So that's not a common occurrence, for them to appear that way?”

He smiled broadly, obviously pleased at her use of the name.  Rachel found herself a bit stunned by the smile.  She caught herself, carefully
not
shaking her head to clear it.

Then he nodded and continued. “They appear as they feel, using images from my mind."

Rachel thought about the teddy bear.
And mine.

And now the Sorcerer's blackout – Zanalon's – made more sense. "So the one who appeared as a little girl, she was the force from the engine of the truck, and it was her pain you felt. But the littlest one –  oh, the keening! My flashlight, for God's sake!"

She bit her lip, thinking, then looked up at him, wide-eyed. "Why did the fire lady change to look like me?"

He dropped his gaze, a trifle guiltily, then looked back to the stars. "That, too, was ... unexpected."

They stood, quiet before the fire among the remains of the truck. Its will to live lost with the elementals' departure, the fire had faded to a corpse of glowing coals, outshone by starlight and moonlight, crackling quieter than the sound of the crickets song.

And then, another sound intruded. An engine, loud enough to be a truck, off in the distance but nearing. Zanalon snapped his head toward the sound.

"Damn," he said. He took her hand, headed away through the trees.

"Must needs we move. Must needs I shut them out. As long as any o' those 'science-driven' devices are near, I cannot leave my mind open to the elementals. All I feel is their pain. But I am virtually deaf and blind without them."

Rachel blinked. "Blind? Oh, pooh, my glasses were in that truck." Rachel waved off the incidental loss and turned to Zanalon, concerned. "You aren't going to pass out again, are you?"

"Nay, I was only caught off guard, then. 'Twas instinct to disconnect completely." He sighed. "I shall prevail without them. They were not of a mind to tell me overmuch, anyway."

Rachel lifted an eyebrow. Before the interruption, she had been nerving to ask about the elemental's kiss; now she only wondered what they
were
of a mind to do.

She pulled him to a stop, even as she heard voices behind them. "We do need to know what's happening. We might pick up something of use if we hide and listen."

He turned to her, paused. Then he nodded and they dodged behind a broad-trunked tree as the voices grew louder.

" ...see it yet? Over there. Glowin'. That's gotta be it. Jeez, one 'ell of a blast, it was. Good thing the whole woods ain't on fire."

The crunching of leaves under the two men's feet stopped as they approached the blasted truck. There was a silence as they took note of its condition.

"Y'know, I 'eard something on the radio today 'bout a missing professor who was supposed to be investigating some statue and then some people stealing it... They're looking for an American woman. They ain't sure whether she's in on it or been snatched, too. There was someone in the lorry with 'er, either 'er kidnapper or 'er accomplice. This looks sorta like the lorry they described 'em usin'. And I cain't imagine any other reason for flamin' a bloody good lorry, other'n to get rid of evidence. I 'ope there ain't a body in there. We better get the bobbies in on this."

They crunched away and Rachel started to breathe again. It was strange to hear herself talked about that way.

A kidnapper or an accomplice?
Suddenly she remembered a man coming out of the tent, seen across the body of the pain-racked Sorcerer. She bit her lip.

"Well, now we know one thing," Rachel said as they got to their feet. "You were seen. I guess I couldn't have pulled off the 'they-went-thataway' gig anyway. So what do we do now?"

"We?" He looked at her, his feelings suddenly obscure to her. "Did I not understand them to say that they believe the woman mayhaps was abducted? An thou goest now, they will believe thee to have escaped."

Rachel looked up at him as that sank in. She didn't want to go.

It must have been written all over her face. He smiled, hesitantly, gentle. She dropped her eyes.

"I ...uh, I can't go back now. Not without ..."
You,
she thought, but she said, "... Rollin. I need to find out what happened to him. It had something to do with you, as a statue... and once we find out, find him... I just want everything back the way it was... I mean, can you make me one? When you get your full power back? I know it's strange but, well, that statue could be the best thing to ever happen to us, career-wise. Though I suppose that might be kind of, well, cheating, since we'd know where it came from and everyone else would just be hypothesizing." She snorted. "Oh, my dear... poor dear Professor Rollin Ambrose and his silly British humor... Will I ever see him? Oh, I don't know. I'll think about that later but – "

"What did you say?" Zanalon was suddenly staring at her, his eyes narrowed and intense. Rachel stared back, puzzled by his sudden interest.

"I said everyone else would – "

"No, no. Who?
Ambrose?
"

Suddenly Rachel felt cold. "Do you know something about him?" For some reason, she regretted it as soon as the question popped out of her mouth. He couldn't know, unless ...

His eyes glazed as he turned them from her and brought a hand up to his forehead. He closed his eyes. "Something ... so afraid ..." Trembling. He said something, mumbled, so low she couldn't make it out. Or maybe she didn't want to make it out, because if she thought about it, it might have sounded like he said, "Death ... death ..."

That scared her. She knew she needed to know but she didn't want to. Before she thought about it too much more, she grabbed his arm, tugged. "Never mind. Don't worry about it, now. We have to get you out of here." He let her pull him along a few steps, then dug in his heels and pulled his arm from her grasp. For the moment, he still seemed too dazed to successfully pull off his annoyed and indignant act at her controlling behavior.

"Okay, then, Zanalon...” She twisted her lips, getting familiar with the new name, and held her hands up, palms outward. "Well, as I was saying ... What was I saying?" She started off, letting him follow, leaving the questions she didn't want to face behind. "Oh, but ... but you might need my help in this time. Like you said, you're blind. Actually, so am I, but, oh well.”  She poked at the bridge of her nose. “You know, another thing, your rival might be looking for you but he won't be expecting me. I might be able to scout things out for you. I've just got to see this through, make sure you get your power and everything... And I think if we find Hafgan, we'll find Rollin, too." She glanced over her shoulder at him, did a double-take when she saw his expression.

He'd listened to her stumbling rationalizations, patiently. A slow smile, mischievous, spread across his face. He looked like a different person, smiling like that. “You care about... him...” he said, then gave a slight shake of his head, looked away and then back. His tone became a little more serious, back to his old self.

"Aye, my lady, this I promise, an all goes well, I will make thee a fine statue," he said. "And I would appreciate thine assistance greatly."

Her face slightly reddened, she cocked her head at him and tried to change tack.

"Right. That's settled, then." She started back in the direction of the road, planning to follow it from the woods.

When they neared the road, they were met by the whoosh of a car. Once beyond them, its taillights glowed and it turned down the same dirt road they had entered on. She couldn't make out the symbols on the side but she could see they were there.

Rachel turned back to Zanalon, her eyes anxious. "We're running out of time.  Hey, you think you could, y'know, zap us out of here? Say, fifty miles?"

"Zap?" he repeated, his smile intrigued. She wondered how much he was going on tone and intent to understand her. "That I could ..." he started, confidently. Then he stopped, looked at his feet, and bit his lip.

"I ... Must needs I hold. I am ... limited. Though quite unexpectedly I have more power anon than when I revived, still Arianta could not give me overmuch. 'Twould be best to wait 'til we know where Hafgan is, use it only then."

She gave him a sympathetic smile. His obvious shame at his need to conserve his power was appealing to her, in contrast to his veil of arrogance.

"You're right, we can get by without," she said, a sincere attempt to comfort his deflated ego. "I guess we better get moving, before the 'bobbies' get here, then."

"Aye," he said, following. "Whate'er they may be."

"We don't want to meet any, take my word for it."  She squinted at the darkness, picked up the pace, stumbled. Reflexively, she poked the bridge of her nose again and rubbed at her eyes, regretting the loss of her glasses, then looked back at him. Zanalon noted the gesture with a double take. Suddenly his eyes took on a compelling intensity and she paused. Almost, he looked at her the same way he'd looked at the fire elemental, only more familiar, somehow. Almost intimate. She felt an urge to blurt out an inane "What?" – anything to kill the tension. Still, she stayed silent, enduring the flush that started in her cheeks.

Zanalon caught himself, dropped his gaze, then gave her a guarded glance and a hesitant smile. Freed, she started away again.

"Hold, Lady. As to thy blindness ..." He reached out to halt her. "This much I owe thee; I believe I may spare a small gift."

He held his hands gently at her temples, brought his thumbs slowly forward until she closed her eyes. She felt the power in his touch, in his voice as he whispered the strange syllables of a language of beings that flowed all around them, even through them, and yet were not there.

The power, even through them, coursing from his fingertips ...tingling to a gentle peak, then fading ...

With her eyes closed, she thought she felt his soft breath close to her face, his lips close to hers.

Kiss ... me ...?

In that instant she wanted nothing else, nothing more.

No, it's just my imagination. Isn't it?

Then his touch was gone. She opened her eyes to a dark but clear moonlit forest world, tiny stars through the forest canopy and the subtle sway of every ripple in Zanalon's cloak as he walked away from her, all of which would have been nothing but a blur before, the stars not visible at all.