The Bristling Wood - Katharine Kerr [80]
He barred the door to his chamber, then lay down on his bed, lying on his back with his arms crossed over his chest. First he calmed his breathing, then summoned the body of light, seeing the glowing man shape first in his mind, then pouring his will into it until it seemed to stand beside him in the chamber. He transferred his consciousness over, heard a rushy click, and floated in the air, looking down at his inert body. Slipping out a window, he flew up high until he could look down on the dun, a black, dead lump in the throbbing silver mist of elemental force arising from the lake. Although the mist made it difficult for him to hold his place—he was forced to fight against some truly dangerous currents—still he was glad to see it, because its presence would make scrying into the dun difficult indeed. The lake had turned the dun into a safe fortress on more planes than one.
Navigating carefully, Nevyn got clear of the lake’s aura and flew over the sleeping countryside, a dull red-brown now that autumn was sapping the energies of the plant life. In their true forms, beautiful, ever-changing crystalline structures of colored light, the Wildfolk swarmed around and accompanied him on his flight. About five miles from the dun he had his first warning of evil when the spirits paused, shuddering, then disappeared in silver flashes and long winking-outs of light. He stopped and waited, hovering above a patch of woodland to take imperfect shelter in its ebbing glow. None of the Wildfolk returned. Whatever had frightened them had done so badly. He flew up higher until the blue light was as thick as fog, ever swirling and drifting, hiding the landscape below. When he visualized light flowing from his fingertips, light appeared, the volatile mind-stuff responding instantly to the form he imposed upon it. With glowing lines of light he drew an enormous sigil of protection in front of him. Since it would be visible for a great distance, it was the perfect bait to draw the attention of any other travelers on the etheric that night.
For a long while he waited there like a hunter near a snare until at last he saw another human-shaped body of light far off from him in the blue mists. He drew another sigil, this one of greeting and friendship, and was rewarded by seeing his fellow traveler first go stock-still, then turn and flee at top speed. Instinctively Nevyn started after, only to stop himself before he’d gone far. He had no idea of how strong the enemy was or even if he were alone. He was certain, however, that an enemy it was. Any servant of the Light would have answered that sigil with a similar one and then come to meet him.
Rather than risk some foolhardy battle, Nevyn returned to the dun and his physical body. Stretching, he sat up on the bed and looked into the fire on the hearth.
“Bad news. I think me that someone’s spying on us.”
In alarm the spirits of fire flared up, sending a shower of sparks up the chimney.
“If you see anything the least bit unusual, tell me.”
Within the flames the gleaming salamanders nodded their agreement. Nevyn got up, took his heavy cloak, and left the chamber. He went up the spiral staircase to the last landing of the broch, where a trapdoor gave access to the roof. After a quick glance round to make sure that no servants were there to see this eccentric behavior on the part of the learned councillor, he pried it up and climbed out onto the roof. He had a strange sort of guard to post.
First he raised his arms