Daughter of Magic

breathe fresh air again, even if damp and cold, after the smoky atmosphere of the caravan. As I retrieved the air cart I wondered if this was recent information the Romneys had acquired, or if they had heard while still in the Eastern Kingdoms of someone heading this way. The Romney children had told me Cyrus had asked them about Yurt; had someone else in the East also inquired about us?

As the air cart flew slowly against a dank wind I thought about the princely wizard Vlad and his obsidian castle, guarded by wolves. Once I had been reassured that Cyrus was not Vlad in disguise, I had tried to dismiss fears of the dark wizard I had made my enemy many years ago. But suppose Cyrus had been sent as Vlad’s agent, to find me, even to kill me? Cyrus however had shown no sign of wanting to kill me on the two occasions when I met him.

But somebody had sent unliving warriors to attack Yurt, warriors that had dissolved in daylight although a spell had lingered in their bones, a spell to drive men-and women-mad. And Vlad’s black castle in the East lay under a permanent bank of clouds, to make even day as dark as night. Sunlight was the one thing he could not bear, even with all his powers.

I leaned back against the edge of the air cart and shouted the heavy words of the Hidden Language at the black clouds overhead. If Vlad was trying to make the twin kingdoms of Yurt and Caelrhon as dark as his own principality, he would not succeed.

The wind swirled stronger, and a small scudding cloud dumped hail on my head. But then the sky split open, and the sun’s rays shone placidly down. The thick clouds started to swing together again, regrouping, but I replied with more shouted spells, and they scattered, dissolving as they slid away over the horizon.

There, I thought, looking down at the fields below washed with light. That was better. The air was becoming warmer by the moment. If Vlad came to Yurt after me, we would meet on my terms.

The air cart flew faster now with the wind no longer against us. The sun beat down on my hair. Now that summer weather had returned, it was easy to think of the cold and the clouds as something trivial. I smiled, recalling how quick I had been to assume that some enemy would attack the castle as soon as I took off after Antonia. In fact, there had been no problems at all since I overcame the undead warriors, other than those directly due to Antonia’s high spirits.

As the air cart and I flew on I tried to plan my next move. The Romney woman had certainly wanted to warn me against somebody, and there might be other spells I could try in order to detect a distant, evil presence. Certainly I could telephone some of the other wizards stationed closer to the Eastern Kingdoms to see if they had heard of someone who came by night.

We came over the forests and fields that surrounded the white-washed royal castle of Yurt. Looking ahead, I saw that the drawbridge was up, which seemed overly cautious for daytime.

But then I saw the wolf.

It was a fenris-wolf, huge and white, as tall at the shoulder as a man. The only shading on its coat was a ruff of black guard-hairs around the neck. Long yellow teeth protruded from the jaws, and its eyes were a light china blue. It paced before the moat, ears forward, growling low and steady. I had seen a wolf like this in the Eastern Kingdoms, in fact outside of Vlad’s obsidian castle, but this was no time for reminiscences.

I dropped the air cart fast into the middle of the castle courtyard. The knights, heavily armed, stood along the battlements, watching. The wolf stared back at them, sunlight flashing like fire from its pale eyes.

King Paul came up to me, looking very serious, though an expression lurked at the corner of his mouth that suggested he was enjoying this. “Has anyone been hurt, sire?” I asked urgently. “Where did the wolf come from?”

“No one’s hurt. The saints only know where it came from, though it must be another attack on the Lady Justinia. It first appeared when I was out riding about an hour ago. The sky was so dark it could have been evening, and it was getting darker and colder by the minute, so I had just turned Bonfire back to the castle when I heard a howl.”

Down below the walls the wolf howled, and inside the stables Justinia’s elephant trumpeted wildly.

“Like that,” said Paul. “Bonfire was spooked, of course, and in the darkness I couldn’t even tell where it was.” It sounded to me that he had come extremely close to being killed, but he seemed almost cheerful about it. “But then the sun broke through the clouds, and I saw that beast looking at me. It didn’t take much persuading to get Bonfire to run! What’s most impressive is that the wolf was-almost-able to keep up. But I was fifty yards ahead when I reached the moat, and they’d seen me coming and were cranking up the drawbridge even before I was off it.”

It looked as though I had saved my king’s life with my weather spells. I took a deep breath and let it out again. “We should be safe then. It won’t be able to get over the walls unless it can fly.”

“That’s all very well for us,” said Paul, no longer sounding as though he was enjoying this. “But there are no stone walls around the village. If it gets bored here it can trot down and have its pick of the villagers’ herds-or of them.”

“Has anyone tried shooting it?”

“We did. But it seems to be able to dodge arrows easily.”

I had been probing the wolf as we spoke. It was a real wolf all right, but with a faint magical aura about it. Bigger and stronger than a normal wolf, it also appeared to have faster reflexes-and doubtless stronger jaws. I could try transforming it into something innocuous, but if it was a creature from the land of wild magic the spell would blow up in my face.

“Now that you’re here,” said Paul, “we’ll try a sortie against it. If you could put a binding spell on it we should be able to capture or kill it. But we’d better move fast in case those clouds come back-or before it really becomes night.”

“Not you, sire,” I said. “I’d certainly like a few sword arms at my back, but not yours. As your mother keeps on telling you, you don’t have an heir. If you get yourself killed by a wolf, who’s going to be king? You don’t want Yurt run by some fourth cousin from somewhere who doesn’t even worry about his villagers.”

Paul frowned, but I wasn’t going to wait for an argument. I might be pledged to his service, but a wizard could never be expected to obey with absolute, unquestioning loyalty. Our highest oaths were not to our kings. “Let’s get a few people down to the postern gate,” I called to the other knights. Hildegarde was among them and turned eagerly at my voice, but I ignored her. “You, you, you! I’ll distract the wolf on this side of the castle while you get out the back.”

“Wizard,” Paul began ominously, but then he stopped without countermanding my order. The three knights, delighted to be chosen, ran to let themselves out the small postern gate and to cross the moat on stepping stones while I flew over the wall to meet the wolf.

I needn’t have worried about keeping its attention while the knights came around. It sprang at me with a howl, and only by rapid mid-air backing was I able to avoid getting my throat ripped out.

“That’s right,” I told myself, hovering twenty feet above it. The red gullet and teeth were improved by distance, but not by much. “Remember that it has fast reflexes. And can jump.” I lifted to thirty feet.

I started on a paralysis spell, something to freeze it in place. From the corner of my eye I spotted the knights coming around the corner of the castle, spears at the ready.

The wolf plunged through my paralysis spell as though it wasn’t there and tore toward the knights. Flying madly behind, I tried a quick and dirty binding spell with no better result. This wolf had been sent here with counterspells all ready to foil a wizard.

The startled knights had their shields up and spears braced for the onslaught. Abandoning my binding spell, I turned the air to glass in front of the wolf.

It bounced back with a snarl of pain and rage. So you weren’t quite ready for that spell? I thought in grim triumph.

But already it had sprung up and around the solid air, again toward the knights of Yurt. They might not be the king, but I couldn’t let them get killed either. Easily dodging the spears with which they tried to impale it, the wolf knocked the first one down and went for his throat.

I yelled behind it, trying to remind it that it had been sent to kill a wizard. It whirled away from the fallen knight and at me, a mass of furious teeth and fur. I snatched up the spear the knight had dropped and flew rapidly backwards.