Magic's Pawn

The scream went on and on, filling the entire universe with pain and loss. An unbearable pressure rose around them, and shattered, all in the moment, the eternity of that scream. The still air churned, and began pummeling them with fists of heat and turbulence.

Gala scrambled to her feet; Vanyel caught and held his lover, trying to support him as he thrashed in uncontrolled spasms. Tylendel's forehead cracked against the bridge of his nose; he saw stars and tasted blood, but gritted his teeth against the pain and held on.

A gale-force wind sprang up out of the confusion and chaos. It went howling about them, moving outward in a spiral, nearly tearing the clothes from Vanyel's body as it passed. Tylendel was - glowing; angry red light pulsed around him. In it, Vanyel could see his face set in a mask of madness. His teeth were clenched in a grimace of pain, and there was no sense in his eyes, no sign of intelligence.

The trees closest to them literally exploded in a shower of splinters; those farther away spasmed in convulsions much like Tylendel's before they began tearing them selves apart.

The wind picked up in strength; trees farther away began thrashing and the wind spiraled outward a little farther than it had a moment before. The light surrounding Tylendel - and now Vanyel - throbbed, ebbing and strengthening with each paroxysm of his body. And something frighteningly like lightning was crackling off the edges of that glow, striking at random all about them. Where it hit, the effect was exactly like natural lightning; trees split, and the ground was scorched and pitted.

The wind was scouring the earth bare, making projectiles of dead needles and bits of wood. Even the ground was shuddering, heaving like a horse trying to throw a rider.

Vanyel held Tylendel as tightly as he could, looking wildly about for Gala. Finally he saw her, off on the edge of the circle of chaos. She, too, was glowing, bluely; the edge of her glow seemed to be deflecting the debris and the lightning, but it looked as if she was unable to do anything. Not that she wasn't trying - she stretched her neck out toward her Chosen, her eyes bright and terrible with distress - but all she seemed able to do was shield herself. She couldn't even get near them.

'Gala!' Vanyel shouted, over the screaming of the wind, restraining Tylendel as his lover spasmed in another convulsion. 'Get help! Get Savil!' He couldn't think. If Gala were helpless to do anything, Savil was the only possible source of aid.

She shook her head; tried to force her way through the gale toward them, but was actually pushed back by whatever force was controlling the raging wind. She tried twice more; twice more was shoved farther back, as the circle of destruction grew. Finally she reared, screamed like a terrified human, and pivoted on her hind feet, then sprang off into the darkness.

Vanyel closed his eyes and clasped Tylendel against his chest, trying to protect him from the wind, trying to keep him from hurting himself as he continued to convulse. He was well beyond fear; his mind numb, his mouth dry, his heart pounding - praying for an end to this, praying for help. He couldn't think, couldn't move - all he could do was stay. -

'Lendel, I'm here - he thought, as hard as he could, hoping somehow that Tylendel would 'hear' him. 'Lendel, come back to me -

The trainee spasmed once more, his back arcing - and suddenly, it was over. The light vanished, and with it, the wind. The ground settled - and there was nothing but a deadly silence, hollow darkness, and the weight of his lover's unmoving body in Vanyel's arms.

' 'Lendel?' He shook Tylendel's shoulders, and bit back a moan when he got no response. 'Oh, gods - '

Tylendel was still breathing, but it was strange, shallow breathing - and the trainee's skin was clammy and almost cold.

A moment later Savil and two other Heralds came pounding up on their Companions, mage-lights glowing over their heads. By their light, Vanyel could see that Tylendel was limp and completely unconscious, his head lolling back, his eyes rolled up under half-open lids. He swallowed down fear, as Savil slid off Kellan's back without waiting for her to come to a full stop, landing heavily and stumbling to them. As the light of the pulsing balls strengthened, Vanyel saw with shock that there was not so much as a single pine seedling left standing in what had been a healthy grove of trees.

'I - I-I d-d-don't know what h-h-happened,' he stuttered, as Savil went to her knees beside them, pulled open Tylendel's eyelids and checked his pulse, her face gray and grim in the blue light of her globe. The other two Heralds dismounted slowly, looking about them at the destruction with expressionless faces. 'He was a-a-all right one minute, and then - Aunt Savil, please, I d-d-didn't do this t-t-t-to him - did I?'

'No, lad,' she said absently. 'Jaysen, come over here and confirm, will you?'

The taller of the two Heralds knelt beside Savil and made the same examination she had. 'Backlash shock,' he said succinctly. 'Bad. Best thing we can do for him is get him in a bed and put someone he trusts with him.'

'What I thought,' she replied, getting to her feet and motioning to the older Herald to come help Jaysen take up the unconscious trainee. 'No, Vanyel, it had nothing to do with you.' She finally looked at him. 'Did you know your nose is broken?'

'It is?' he replied, mind still fogged with fear for Tylendel.

'It is. Hold still; Jaysen's got just about enough of the Healing Gift to do something - '

The tall, bleached-looking Herald freed a hand from his task just long enough to touch his face. There was an odd tugging sensation, and a flash of pain that sent him blind for a moment, then numbness.

Savil looked him over briefly. 'Good enough; it'll hurt like hell for the next few days, but it'll heal up straight. We'll wash the blood off your face later. Jaysen, Rolf, get 'Lendel back to my quarters; this isn't anything a Healer's going to be able to treat. We'll take care of him ourselves.'

'Aunt, please, what happened?' He staggered to his feet, holding Tylendel's hand tightly as the other two picked him up, still limp as a broken doll and showing no signs of consciousness. He was not willing to let go until he knew what was wrong.

Savil gently loosed his fingers from their grip. 'If what we got from Gala is right - the moment he went mad is the moment someone assassinated his twin,' she said angrily. 'You know the bond he had with Staven.'

Vanyel nodded, and his whole face throbbed.