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Quinn jerked upright from a restless sleep, scanning her room in the Scribes’ lodge.
What had just happened? She sat still, sensing, listening.
A jolt through the energetic imprint of the Aura, but at a time when the Aura itself had vanished. Now it hummed quietly in the back of her mind. But more than that...
She frowned, stretched her senses, seeking the difference.
And found it. Indistinct – so very weak.
She estimated it was nearer dawn than midnight. Never one to bother with anything as unnecessary as a sleep shirt, she threw on a tunic for warmth and bolted for the stairs, taking the flight from her suite on the second floor to Arwen’s on the third.
Arwen was up and waiting for her at the door. “Your energy’s scrambled. Calm down, you’ll wake the whole lodge.”
Quinn stepped into the older woman’s living quarters and pulled a chair out from the plain wooden table. She sagged into it. “The Aura?”
“Stable now, but that was frankly scary. Any thoughts?”
“This isn’t right. I’m worried.”
Arwen sat across from her. “Ground yourself, Quinn.”
Palpable silence filled the room. She felt Arwen’s scrutiny, but after twenty-five years or so she was used to it.
When she was sure she wasn’t dreaming, she leaned forward. “Something’s going on in Borgonne. You felt that massive energy release?” Arwen nodded. “I’d swear it came from Borgonne. There’s more, though. We shouldn’t get anything, should we? Not with the barrier of the hills.”
“No, we shouldn’t. But there are many imponderables. While Willow was there, things were stable for the most part, and any disruptions came from the Midland. I don’t know what the energy surge meant. When I was in training, one of the Scribes died. I remember because he had been Ezra’s mentor. The same kind of energy surge happened then, if my child’s memory can be trusted.”
Quinn’s stomach sank. “Bryar?”
“No, or at least I doubt it. He isn’t powerful enough. It’s rare. Someone of Ezra’s caliber might trigger it, for example.”
Quinn frowned. “I didn’t think so. We’ve always had this crazy connection, Willow and Bryar and me,” she mused. “A vague awareness that the others are in our world.”
“Are you reading Bryar?” She couldn’t miss the urgency in Arwen’s voice.
“I don’t know. It’s similar to signals I got when Ezra was experimenting with his weave. But I shouldn’t, should I? I never picked up Willow.”
“No. But that blast of energy... Sustainer, Quinn. I don’t know what it means. Gauvain? Has something happened to him?” Arwen’s lips compressed. “I don’t like this. I’m contacting Ezra.”
“Do you need me to link?”
“Yes, please. My energy is low.”
Quinn reached across the table. Arwen took her hand, then extinguished the single light globe, allowing the room’s quiet to merge with the darkness. They sat for a quarter of an hour, unmoving.
When Arwen released her with a gentle squeeze, she rubbed her forehead. “Ow.”
“That was hard.”
“But worthwhile?” As the secondary, not controlling the link but merely supplementing the energy, Quinn had not been privy to Arwen’s communication.
Arwen nodded. “Ezra believes we may be picking up signals from Bryar, fueled by the energy release. The weave is predicated on life force. It can’t survive death. Based on the unevenness of Bryar’s connection... and that there is a connection... Ezra thinks he’s injured.”
“A serious injury would have to damage the weave,” Quinn mused. “An erratic signal could stem from the weave, or from Bryar himself.” She shivered.
Arwen stood. “Possibly. At this point, speculation does no good. He’s alive, and we rely on his staying that way. I’ll make you a tisane to calm you, because you need to sleep, even sleep late. But as soon as you’re up, you have a lot to do.”
“I have to find him.”
“Nobody could stop you, but in this instance, you and I agree. I want an experienced Healer with you, so take Dal. Tell him to emphasize remedies for injury, shock, and fever. I’ll notify the kitchen, they must be starting the morning bread by now. They’ll arrange for your provisions. Plan to leave right after midday meal.”
Quinn watched the other woman bustling around the compact cookfire in her suite, choosing from a select assortment of herbs, and let her mind drift to the near future. Even contemplating another venture into the hills chilled her, especially with Borgonne as the destination – assuming she could master Ezra’s weave for herself and Dal, to prevent them suffering the same fate as Bryar’s the previous autumn. It didn’t help that she dreaded what she might find when she arrived.
Bryar. They couldn’t lose him.
“Drink this, then go.”
She sighed. Fatigue seeped into her pores; what sleep she’d managed hadn’t been restful.
“I’ll prepare a message for Gauvain. Use your discretion. The man can be a bastard, but he’s not without redeeming qualities.”
Quinn sipped the tisane. As she expected, the taste wasn’t one to linger over. “I’d love to know how you met a Mage from the other side of the hills.”
“Another story, another time.”
She quirked an eyebrow, wondering about history hidden to her, but shared by Arwen, Ezra, and the sinister, man from Borgonne.
“Relax,” Arwen said. “I’m not going to die with the tale untold. But not yet.”
She gulped the rest of the tisane, that being easier than sipping the vile stuff. Already she felt it at work in her muscles.
As she left, Arwen hugged her, uncharacteristically. “We’re not helpless. Although the probability of success...” She shrugged.
Two days to get to the hills, then ten to cross them. If Bryar was injured, would she and Dal make it in time? Willow said they didn’t have Healers in Borgonne. And what role did Kiril play in all this?
The thought of Kiril irritated her, like an itch on her back she couldn’t quite reach to scratch.
In her own room, she dropped the tunic on the floor, dropped herself onto her bed, and was asleep within minutes.