Prophet of Moonshae - Douglas Niles [53]
She touched her hand to the water and noticed with surprise that it didn't seem the slightest bit cool to her now, though she recalled a feeling of deep, numbing shock from the icy chill when she had struck the water during the fight.
"Tavish? Keane?" she called, suddenly alarmed.
"Ho, Princess! What say you to this?" She saw Tavish, her face widened by that familiar smile. The bard sat among the rocks nearby, her harp still slung carelessly across her shoulder, and gestured to the soft green flora surrounding them.
"A miracle?" Alicia guessed, hesitant.
"Aye. But look." Ruefully the bard pulled her harp from her back and showed it to the younger woman. Alicia saw that the strings twisted in every direction, broken and bent. The wooden brace of the instrument and the soundboard as well were cracked and splintered.
"The strings went when I summoned that overgrown suit of plate mail to follow me around the pond," Tavish explained. "Then I fell and smashed the frame. It's beyond hope, I'm afraid."
"I'm sorry," said Alicia, feeling sudden melancholy. "Where's Keane?"
"That 'failed apprentice' of a magic-user?" inquired the bard, gesturing to a nearby patch of smooth ground. "He's over there. I tried to make him as comfortable as I could, as I did with you."
A groan from a pile of rocks nearby told them both where Keane lay, and that he lived. The tall man raised himself from the ground stiffly, kneeling for a moment and blinking while he looked around, as if he sought to restore his equilibrium. Though he must have landed very roughly indeed, his skin was unmarked by bruises or abrasions.
For the first time, Alicia noticed that it was daylight. The sun even broke through the eternal clouds for several seconds, casting warmth and brightness on the sacred well before the familiar overcast closed in again.
"That thing-the monster," Alicia wondered, climbing to her feet and walking over to her friends. "What was it? Where did it come from?"
"A golem," Keane supplied. "Of iron-the most difficult type to create. Whoever sent it after us is a sorcerer or priest of great might."
"Speaking of that," Alicia said, diverting attention for a moment away from the question of the identity of their attacker's maker. "Why have you kept your own ability such a secret? Your magic saved our lives last night. Never would I have believed you could wield such power!"
"In truth," Tavish agreed. "That was a display the like of which I've not seen in twenty years-not since the Black Wizards fought to place their own puppet on the throne of the High King."
"My predecessors." There was no humor in Keane's laugh. "It is at the High King's own request," said the young magic-user. "He would not have it known that his own advisers are wizards of any notable power."
" 'Tis true the Ffolk have always had an aversion to magic," Tavish noted.
"And with the trouble brought upon the realm by the Black Wizards, King Tristan preferred to keep my role a secret."
"And all those years you taught me," Alicia said, wonderingly. "I never had any clue, any suspicion that you could do more than light an oilless lantern, or put the dogs to sleep if they barked overmuch!"
"It would seem that your father saw you placed in very good care," observed Tavish to Alicia. "And thank you, mage, for our lives."
Keane blushed, obviously embarrassed. Then he shook his head. "We all took risks, and we all fought for each other. Lady bard, your diversion, leading the creature around the pond, was one of the bravest-and most foolhardy!-acts I have even been witness to. But that's just it. You and I didn't kill that thing! It was when the princess struck it with the staff," he told them.
"No-it was when the staff touched the water," Alicia disagreed, and then turned to Tavish. "Where did you get it, anyway? I've never known you to carry a stave before."
Tavish looked at them both, her face awestruck, her voice unusually somber. "It was