As Nicci turned to thank her, another pair of dust people crawled up out of the ground, lunging toward Thistle with a clearly focused intent. One was a shriveled woman with a faded red head scarf wrapped around the tufts of wiry hair on her skull. The other, a man, wore the tattered remnants of a leather vest.
Thistle lifted her knife to swing at the new attack, but then she froze in horrified recognition. The dust people stumbled toward her, much too close, hooked hands grasping for the girl. “Aunt Luna? Uncle Marcus!”
Nicci recognized them as well, and she swept in, placing herself in front of the stunned girl. The creatures that had been her aunt and uncle wanted to drag Thistle back with them, but Nicci stood before them. “You can’t have her!” Leathery, cadaverous hands touched her arms, her black dress—and Nicci released a furious surge of magic, sparking fire within the inhuman remnants of Marcus and Luna.
The sudden fire burned a hot, purifying white, consuming the remains of the two in an instant. As they reeled away from Nicci, the pair fell into fine gray ash, dropping with a rushing sound that was almost a sigh. Thistle let out a despairing cry.
Panting heavily, the three stood together, poised for more attackers, but the Lifedrinker sent no more dust people after them. The battle was over as swiftly as it had begun. In the distance, they heard scuttling movement, a clatter of pebbles … not reanimated corpses this time, but other creatures—armored things with many legs that kept to the shadows.
Thistle clung to Nicci’s waist. “The Lifedrinker knows where we are. He is spying on us.”
“Are you sure we should keep going out there in the darkness?” Bannon asked. He could barely keep the quaver from his voice.
“It would be a waste to sacrifice ourselves now,” Nicci said. “Until we discover a way to cut off the Lifedrinker’s magic, we have seen enough. For now.”
They made good time retracing their steps toward the rising land at the north end of the vast dead valley, but it was long after dark when they reached the dying forests and remnants of trees in the foothills. The dry grass, dead weeds, and gnarled, leafless trees seemed welcoming by comparison. They were exhausted by the time they found a place to camp.
“At least we have enough wood to build a fire now,” Bannon said. “A very large fire.”
Still shaken from seeing the remnants of her aunt and uncle, Thistle brought several armloads of dry mesquite and made a pile at their chosen campsite. “It’ll be very bright and warm, but won’t the Lifedrinker be able to see such a big fire?”
Nicci used her magic to ignite the pile, and the bright fire crackled with intense flames and ribbons of aromatic smoke. “He knows full well where we are. Now at least we will be able to see any attack that comes.”
Bannon and Thistle hunkered close to the comforting flames. “Both of you sleep,” Nicci said. “I will keep watch.”
They bedded down, though they remained restless for many hours. As she sat alone, Nicci listened for sounds beyond the pop and crackle of the burning wood.
The Scar remained silent, an emptiness in the dark that seemed to swallow up sound as well as life. Nicci sensed some other presence out there, however, something prowling in the dying hills around them. Alert, she peered into the blackness beyond the firelight, but could see nothing, hear nothing. Yet she felt it … something strong and deadly.
Something hunting them.
CHAPTER 45
Surrounded by gifted scholars, Nathan found their dedication refreshing and inspirational. “If I had a thousand years with this grand library, I’d become the greatest wizard who ever lived,” he said with a good-natured but weary smile, as Simon brought him another stack of volumes.
“A thousand years…” said the scholar-archivist with a shake of his head. He arranged the selected volumes in careful stacks on Nathan’s cluttered study table. “I would like nothing more than to spend centuries reading, studying, and learning … but alas, I have only a normal life span.”
“That was one of the few advantages of being trapped inside the Palace of the Prophets, the webs and spell-forms that prevented us from aging,” Nathan said. He looked at the mountains of books brought to him for his review, stacked by subject, some of the passages marked with colorful strings or feathers to separate the pages. “But if the Scar continues to grow and grow, there may not be more than a normal life span left for any of us.”
Intent on searching for any useful information about the Lifedrinker, the Cliffwall students pored through book after book, scroll after scroll, highlighting any writings that might bear relevance. Nathan wanted to find the original spell Roland had used to fight his wasting disease, the spell that had transformed him into the Lifedrinker.
During his years in the palace, Nathan had become an extremely fast reader. Even though he’d had all the time in the world, he also had access to thousands and thousands of books, and even forever hadn’t seemed like enough time. He could skim a document as fast as he could turn the pages, and he could absorb several thick volumes in an hour.
In only two days here in Cliffwall, he had already finished reading shelves of books, but it would take so much time to learn it all. So much time … He had learned very little about the Lifedrinker’s draining spell.
Nathan drew his fingers down his chin. “Remind me, did you say that Roland used a spell that was preserved by the memmers?”
“One of the memmers remembered part of it and made certain suggestions. They gave Roland an idea where to look.” Simon frowned at an embossed leather volume and set it aside. “We have not yet been able to recover the original text of the spell to study it ourselves. Therefore, we must rely on Victoria’s word.” When he frowned, the lines in his face made him look much older. “Memories can be faulty. I would prefer independent text verification.”
As if summoned, the memmer leader came up with her three lovely acolytes. As she heard him speak, her face darkened with annoyance. Audrey, Laurel, and Sage crowded close behind her, looking indignant on her behalf.
“The memmers are beyond reproach.” Victoria stood before the study table piled high with tomes. “You wouldn’t have any of these books to study at all, were it not for me. If I had not discovered how to dissipate the camouflage shroud, no one would have access to the archive.”
“Nor would Roland,” Nathan pointed out, “and we wouldn’t be in quite so much trouble.”
Simon gathered his dignity and drew himself taller in an attempt to belittle Victoria. “All of us in Cliffwall appreciate your past service. The memmers were important in their day, but you are obsolete now. Gifted and intelligent people have access to the entire library now, not just selected volumes memorized generations ago.”
Victoria huffed. “Words written on paper are different from words held in the mind.” She tapped her temple and leaned close. “It matters not what is written down, but what we know.”
Simon plainly disagreed. “Knowledge that is not written down cannot be properly shared. How can I study what is inside your mind? How can our scholars draw insights and conclusions if we can’t see your thoughts? How can you share properly with Wizard Nathan right now?”
“We will tell him whatever he needs to know,” Victoria said.
Nathan raised his hands I exasperation. “Dear spirits, do not quarrel! Cliffwall is a banquet of special lore, and we have a feast before us. Why quibble over a few tidbits?”
Struggling not to let the argument flare, Simon turned to depart. “I will keep gathering suitable volumes for you and let these women tell you the stories they hold in their heads.”