Priestess of the White

the strength of it. The attack stopped and he regarded her coolly.

“How strong you heathens are,” he replied.

She fixed the Pentadrian with what she hoped was a cold stare. “Did that answer your question?”

The sorcerer shrugged. “Not quite.”

Auraya crossed her arms and stared defiantly. Inside she was trembling with shock.

:Juran, she said. I suspect your theory that one powerful sorcerer is born every hundred years is wrong. And I think your spy theory is wrong too.

:I fear you are right on both counts, Juran agreed. He is strong, but so are you.

:But I’ve barely learned more than how to shield myself!

:That’s all you need. When Dyara gets there she will deal with him.

The sorcerer’s eyes narrowed. A second blast of magic set her barrier humming. On either side of the room, stray magic scalded paint and set furnishings ablaze. As the attack increased, she drew more and more magic to resist it.

:By the gods he’s strong!

:Your shield is too large, Juran warned. Draw it in closer to yourself. You’ll find it more efficient.

She did as he advised. With the barrier abruptly gone, the sorcerer’s attack shattered paintings, furniture and windows. She felt a pang of guilt at the destruction.

The attack stopped. She watched the Pentadrian’s face. His eyes were thoughtful. He took another step forward.

“There are much more civilized ways of doing this,” she told him. “We could devise a test of some sort. Perhaps hold annual games. People would come from—”

As a brutally powerful blast battered her shield she put all her concentration into drawing and channelling magic. The man watched her intently, showing no sign of effort as his onslaught grew ever stronger. Then she found she could no longer draw magic fast enough to counter his attack. White light dazzled her as he broke down her defenses. She knew a brief instant of pure agony. Staggering backward, she gasped for air and looked down at herself. She was alive and, to her surprise, unhurt.

:Flee! Juran’s communication was like a shout in her mind. He is stronger. There is nothing more you can do.

The knowledge hit her like a physical blow. The Pentadrian could kill her. She felt a wave of terror and hastily created another shield. Looking up at the sorcerer she saw him smiling broadly. So much for immortality, she found herself thinking. People are going to remember me as the shortest-lived immortal in history! She took a few steps toward the side door and encountered an invisible force.

“No, no,” the Pentadrian said. “You are not leaving. I want to see if you call on your gods. Will they appear? That would be interesting. It would answer many questions.”

:Is there a window behind you? Dyara asked.

:Yes, but if I move toward it he will block me.

:Then you will have to resist him. It will take time for him to break down your defenses again. Use that time to get to the window.

Auraya backed away from the sorcerer. His smile widened and she suspected he thought her afraid of him and was pleased. I am afraid of him! She stepped into a square of light from the shattered window behind her and felt sunlight warm her calves. The sorcerer looked down at her feet and frowned. His gaze flickered to the window and his eyes narrowed.

An invisible force struck her shield. Though she fought it, she did not have the strength to stop herself from being forced backward against the wall. The window was an arm’s length away. The Pentadrian strode forward until he stood before her.

“Where are your gods?” he asked. “I know your strength. It will not take long to defeat you again. Call on your gods.”

The window was so close, but she could not move. The sorcerer shook his head.

“They don’t exist. You are deceivers. You deserve to die.”

He splayed his fingers before her chest. She tried to shrink away, but the wall was hard against her back. If only it were possible to pass through it...

But of course I can! Drawing power, she sent it backward in a great blast. The wall gave way with a deafening crack. She saw the sorcerer’s eyes widen in surprise as she fell away from him. She braced herself for the impact of her shield meeting the ground outside.

But it didn’t.

She continued to fall. As she turned upside down she saw sand and rocks and water rushing toward her.

I must stop!

She felt magic channel through her, answering the command of her mind. The sensation of falling ended in one wrenching jolt. For a moment she was too stunned to think. She sucked in one breath, then two. Slowly, she opened her eyes, not able to remember when she had closed them.

A wall of dark sand lay within arm’s reach.

Not a wall, she corrected, but the beach. Looking around, she saw the cliff wall to her right and the sea to her left. She was floating.

How is that possible?

Thinking back, she considered the thought that had passed through her mind. I wanted to stop. To stop moving.

It was more than that. She had seen herself moving in relation to what was around her. Not specifically the cliff or sea. Everything. The world.

And I did. She shook her head in amazement. And I’m still doing it. Can I make myself move again by willing myself to change position in relation to the world?

She hesitated, afraid that by examining this new Gift she would lose it and drop the rest of the way to the beach. Not a fatal fall, but a disappointing one.

But, she reasoned, if this ability - this Gift - had taken a lot of thought I would have been aware of it from the start. No, this was unlike any Gift she had learned before. This was like learning to walk. Something she didn’t have to think about.

If learning a Gift is like learning to play an instrument, then this is like singing.

If she could move herself, it would be like flying. That thought sent a thrill through her body.

I have to try. Me in relation to the world. I want to turn over and face upward.

She rolled over sideways in three abrupt movements. Above her was the cliff. She thought about moving higher and began to rise. Slowly, then with greater speed, she lifted herself upward. To be vertical would be better, she decided. Slowly she pivoted until she was upright. She passed the edge of the cliff and stopped as she found herself looking down on the watch-house.

Abruptly she remembered the sorcerer and her elation died. Smoke was escaping from the hole she had blasted in the side of the house. Villagers were hauling buckets of water from a well to the building. She felt her stomach knot with fear as she searched for the sorcerer. If he was still there she would have to retreat until Dyara arrived.

Moving over the village, she looked for him in vain. Then she saw a dark figure riding northward on a reyer. She searched for his thoughts and found none. She sighed with relief.

He must have assumed I’d died. And Juran and Dyara must be wondering what happened. She smiled. They’re not going to believe me.

:Juran.

:Auraya? You’re alive. What... ? Where are you?

:Over Caram.