'Sorry, Takyn,' he said.
Takyn shrugged. 'It's why we want her.'
'Not another word,' said Hirad.
'Gythen, drop your weapon,' said The Unknown as Darrick moved purposefully towards him. 'Right now. Hirad, lower your sword.'
'Un-'
'Now!'
Thraun watched the conflict on Hirad's face. His respect for the big man prevailed over his desire for more revenge. His swordpoint dropped and he pushed his face into Takyn's.
'Consider yourself one lucky bastard.'
Next to Thraun, Erienne swayed. He thrust Takyn at Hirad and caught her before she fell. The Unknown spoke into the moment's uncertainty.
'Darrick, bring him over here. Denser, you can forget the Orbs now, I think deep sleep is more what they need. And us, for that matter. Man on watch guards them too.' He nodded in some satisfaction. 'Reckon that makes us safe tonight, don't you?'
Erienne sank into brief and broken, haunted dreams, feeling more alone than at any time in her life. Since forcing herself back to consciousness to do battle with the One entity throughout her body, she had sought Cleress but the old elf did not or could not answer her. There had been occasions when she thought she had heard a voice but it was vague, like a whisper in a gale. Perhaps the One had shut her out. Perhaps she really was dead.
The effort of adopting the structure allowing her to see Gythen had taken such energy. The technicalities of the casting were simple, enough. Stopping the One from using it as a route to vent power was not.
The Al-Drechar had taught her so much in the short time they had been with her. The possibilities and the dangers, so closely connected, the partitioning of her mind that was demanded to keep castings under control while capping the well of One power. But she hadn't understood the most basic lesson they had been trying to teach her since that first day she had let them into her mind. She understood it now.
Every moment of her training in Dordover had taught her that magic was an element controlled purely by the mind, formed into shapes by the mind and using physical movements merely to focus the mind to perfect the desired construct. Physical tiredness was the result of the mental effort. She had brought this doctrine to her dealings with the One.
But the One was so different. The One demanded, if you were to control it for any length of time, the use of the whole body. Muscles were flexed, tendons tightened and arteries swollen, with the blood driven through them in pulses. Mana was just one element of the larger magic. Everything else was open to her too and the One entity attracted the raw fuel like moths to light. From metal deposits, to water and the air around her, to verdant foliage and the living earth. Anything with a vitality that could be stripped.
The problem was, it was an unbalanced magic. Where mana would dissipate on casting, returning to its natural chaotic state, the One magic did not, making it potentially so much more destructive. It could not simply be formed into structures and let go. The structures of the One, through which power was vented in a controlled fashion, had to be disassembled to make it safe. Otherwise a structure could drag elemental energy from around itself, becoming almost self-perpetuating while it slowly unravelled. How easy now to understand why the storms and disasters Lyanna created had been so vicious, so long-lived.
Her poor daughter's body had simply been too small to exert the physical control and her mind alone was helpless to contain the power it held. That was what the Al-Drechar had been trying to explain since the beginning but her grief at Lyanna's death had stopped her listening.
Erienne's body was strong enough, though barely. She had wondered why the Al-Drechar hadn't asked her to accept the entity as part of her entire being rather than just her mind but even that made sense now. The mind had to be trained first. The mind had to be the cork in the bottle as well as the casting focus. The body could only be trained once the stopper could be put in place.
What her body did was channel the One in an endless circuit. It had no outlet and could drag no more power in unless she chose to open the bottle to cast a spell. Every urge in her body told her to yank out that mental cork because doing so would relieve the surging she felt inside her. Every thought in her mind drove her to keep the stopper in tight. What a paradox. The very time when in theory she should be in maximum control of the One magic was the time it was at its most dangerous to her and everything around her.
Now she understood, truly understood, the challenge that faced her. She would never fully control or cap the energy the One contained. All she could do was suppress it. And whenever she cast she had to use just exactly the right amount of power to achieve her end. That right amount being dependent on the strength of her body and the freshness of her mind combined. Too much at the wrong moment and she was lost. Not enough and the casting would fail.
Erienne's mind began to relax just slightly as her path became clearer. She was aware that she would hate what she had been forced to become. The spider would always be there, looking for a way to break her. And yet she could never fight it, never beat it. Just cage it and let it run to her design.
A more peaceful sleep overcame her now. Her last thought before the shouting woke her at dawn the next morning was that she was going to have to get to know herself all over again. She hoped her husband would understand.
Chapter 37
Hirad had been left with the last watch of the night and The Unknown cursed himself for his stupidity and complete misreading of Hirad's emotional state. The big man himself was the first awake that morning, Hirad shaking his shoulder. He'd looked and known what Hirad had done. Now he and the barbarian stood over the scene, his eyes adjusting to the early light of dawn.
At least he had been clinical. Both necks were broken. There was not a mark on either of them but the stillness of the dead had a quality about it that forewent any thought that they might still be sleeping.
'Oh, Hirad, what have you done?'
‘Ithought about slitting their throats or cutting out their hearts but in the end that would have been messy.'
The Unknown looked across at Hirad. He was assessing them like he might assess a selection of cuts of meat for his table. There was no remorse or regret in his stance or expression. In his mind they had deserved death and so they had died. It made the moral conversation he was about to have completely redundant.
'This isn't what we agreed,' said The Unknown, changing tack.
'We agreed we'd guard them,' said Hirad. 'If it makes you feel better, imagine they both broke their spells and tried to run or something. Do you think we should move them before Erienne wakes?'
'Or Denser.'
'Denser is already awake,' said Denser.
'Oh dear,' said The Unknown to himself, hearing the dark mage get up and walk towards them.
'What's the-'
'Denser, I think you'll need to consider the larger picture,' said The Unknown.
Denser was standing to Hirad's right, his face darkening with fury.
'What the fuck has happened here?' He gestured at the bodies, plainly unable quite to convince himself about what he was looking at. Hirad filled it in for him.
'I killed them, Denser. What does it look like?'
Denser took a pace back, bis mouth falling open in almost comical reaction. He stared at Hirad, naked disbelief in his face slowly dissolving into incredulity. Hirad wasn't looking in his direction. The Unknown knew what was coming. All he could do was be ready to step in if it got out of hand.
'They were my friends,' began Denser.
'Not for a long time,' said Hirad. 'They didn't come here to ask after your health.'
Denser gestured down. 'But how could you? They were no threat.'
Finally, Hirad turned to meet his gaze. 'No threat? Are you taking the piss? These two came here to kill us. They walked in invisible and if they could have stuck a knife in all of lis, they would. And then taken Erienne. Well, now they can't.'