Stormchild: Emeline and the Forest Mage

40 The Book

 Erdil

   'Guiseila, soon we come.' The Mage's eyes closed for a minute, his hand resting on the girl child's chest, feeling its rhythmic movements as she sucked in air, reassuring him he wasn't a madman. Or not a stupid madman anyway. This was the child the prophecies spoke of. She could not die. Not now, not yet.

    'Kijs,' Guiseila answered from her cave, a voice in his heart. 'We cannot speak like this. The seals have been broken. It is the Dark Woman's doing, but we cannot speak now.'

    'Affirmation,' his mind said. Not a thought, a mental agreement to what she said. 'We arrive within two hours.'

    'Agreed. Satisfied. Preparing.' Guiseila spoke no further mental words, but he sensed her feelings before she ended their communication. She was right—this was dangerous. He could not risk any further injury to the fragile child, the hope of the world.

    A splash came from the river, and he opened his eyes. Denirya hovered at his side, staring between him and the child. 'And?'

    'She is preparing the book.'

    'That's good,' she said.

    'Don't even think it,' the Mage said.

    Denirya gave him that dubious pout. 'Whaat.'

    'You know what I mean.'

    'Oh, come now,' she said with a huff, 'just a page.'

    Fathers help him, this Apprentice and her relentless arguing chafed at him. 'No.'

    She opened her mouth to argue, but he cut her off. 'No arguing, no is no and we're done talking it over.'

    Denirya's shoulders sagged, and it tugged at Kijs' heartstrings. She wanted to read the book, she'd wanted it for the longest time, but Kijs had learned his lesson with Ajivr, the apprentice before Denirya. If they read the book too soon it got to their heads, made them do stupid things.

    'Denir,' he said, 'now is not the time for it, but your time will come.'

    Hope glowed in her eyes, hope and something sharp and cold. 'But how long?'

    'Patience is a discipline well learned by all apprentices.'

    'There are no other apprentices!' She burst out. Then, throwing her hood up, she stormed off to the water's edge.

    So many years with this one and so little progress. Something held her back, something made her angry, but the kind of magic that could see into another's deepest heart did not exist. Would that it had. So much trouble could have been eliminated.

    The old oak against which the Mage rested creaked and groaned. Roots pushed from the ground and curved under his arms. Ahh, that was better. A resting place for his wearied limbs. His hand still rested on Emeline's chest, just to be sure. The sky greyed to morning, and the air felt icy and fresh against his cheeks. This was his favourite time of day. The world was reborn, new, innocent in the crisp hours of morning. Before the birds awoke to chatter or the forest stretched it's limbs, the sky moved with new wonder. And the peace, that was a thing most desirable. When everything but the sky slept, the world became a secret, each moment seemed more precious, each stolen breath more tantalising.

    Fathers, if only life could be so sweet and wondrous, or did his heart long more for the peace of it all? But he knew better than any that peace was an illusion, a far off dream the world would never quite reach. At least he had believed that, had given up hope of seeing the prophecy fulfilled or the end of an age and the start of another. Until the warrior had come seeking the girl. Thank the Fathers he'd known enough of the book to recognise this sign and to get involved. This child beneath his hand, she brought new hope with her, a hope that peace could come at last. Peace for Öldeim, and perhaps all of Erdil. And perhaps if the Fathers were merciful, peace for him.