Touch of the Demon (Kara Gillian 5)

I watched until they disappeared through the archway into the palace, then exhaled and looked over at Kehlirik. “What do they do at this conclave?” I asked. “S’mores? Ghost stories?”

Kehlirik started walking again, and I paced alongside him. “I do not know what this ‘s’mores’ is,” he said. “What they do varies, with several elements always being present. Review of agreements, confirmation of the rotations for the next cycle, assessment of anomaly patterning, and a unified rebalance.”

“You’d like s’mores,” I told him. “Chocolate and melted marshmallow between two graham crackers.” I glanced his way. “What are the rotations for?”

“Of the overwatch,” he said. “It is critical that each day is covered by at least one lord, though two will be on the rotation. Even a single day unwatched can disastrously unbalance the arcane fields.”

I took a few seconds to consider that, remembering Ilana’s statement about the lords having much responsibility, and the image of the potency thingy Turek showed me in Szerain’s shrine.

“In other words, they maintain this world’s arcane power plant and make sure it doesn’t overload or have blackouts?” I asked.

“Kri,” he said with a twitch of his wings. “It is a simplistic though adequate analogy.”

As we rounded a curve in the path, a ruined stone structure came into sight. All thoughts of arcane power plants fled my mind as I took it in. “Oh, wow,” I breathed.

The ruins crowned the rise ahead, surrounded by boulders shrugged from the mountainside above. Stairs of white stone climbed toward what had once been a graceful roofed structure of the same pale stone. Only columns and one wall remained standing on its raised foundation, the rest in broken chunks among the tumbled boulders.

Kehlirik followed me up the stairs. Halfway up I felt the place. Even broken, it resonated a subtle, permeating potency that made me feel a little floaty in a good way. My steps slowed to a reverent pace as I took it all in. The translucent milky stone of both the remaining structure and the fallen chunks shimmered with a soft bluish glow, and, as I topped the rise, the columns framed the blue-grey sky beyond. Déjà vu kicked in full force. Kehlirik crouched at the edge of the foundation, lifted a claw, and sketched a sigil in the air. I watched in fascination as he sent it spinning to the middle of the ruined pavilion where it flared brightly before fading away.

His eyes went to me. “You may send a…” He seemed to be seeking the right word. “Wish,” he finally said, though I had the feeling it still wasn’t quite what he was trying to convey. “Trace any primary sigil and imbue it with your wish.”

I stood silently for a moment, considering, then scowled in annoyance. “I can’t,” I said, voice loaded with bitterness. “Even without this goddamn collar, I don’t know how to do one of those floater sigils.”

Kehlirik’s eyes went to the collar. He let out a low croon that might have been of sympathy, but it was hard to be sure. “I will trace one for you. It matters not who creates the sigil.”

He sketched another sigil, then looked to me, waiting.

Kinda surreal making a wish with a demon, but no point in wasting it. I pursed my lips and considered while a million different things flitted through my mind. Getting home was my top priority, however Rhyzkahl said he was working on that. Then there was protecting myself from Mzatal. But I wasn’t going to waste a wish on that fucker. More up close and personal was this elusive crap with Elinor. What the hell. It was only a wish anyway.

I gave Kehlirik a nod. I want to know what really happened to Elinor. Just in case, I threw in the post script, and that means her part in the cataclysm, too. I snorted. So silly.

Kehlirik sent it to the center where it glowed briefly then dissipated.

“Thanks,” I said. “What is this place?”

Crouching, the reyza settled his wings along his back. “It is a very ancient site, a gateway from the time before the Ekiri departed.”

“Ekiri? Who were they?” I asked. “And why did they leave?”

A pair of faas hopped to the edge of the pavilion steps and sent in sigils before continuing on in, stopping in the very center where the sigils had disappeared. Kehlirik moved to follow them, and I did likewise.

“They were a race that once lived among us and taught much of the mastery of the arcane,” Kehlirik said. “They departed for a new realm many millennia ago.”

“That’s pretty amazing,” I said, slowly looking around. I could spend a lifetime simply learning the history of this world. “Was this damaged during the cataclysm?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said, wings drooping slightly. “It had stood unblemished for millennia.”

I cautiously put my hand on a stone. It was cool but not as cold as normal stone would have been in this weather. Memories flickered. Her memories.

Cool stone, peace, a smile, ancient blue eyes…

I frowned. I wanted more than shadows. Breathing deeply, I sought the deeper memories.

I sketch the sigil and make my wish. Would that I could learn faster. He expects so much of me, and I fear I am a disappointment. In this place I feel whole. Perhaps the ancients can hear me and will touch me from afar. I imagine that the song of the stone is their song, their voices. I have not told Giovanni this for he would surely think me foolish.

Holy crap. Through the memory I could almost almost feel how to shape the floater. I tried to call it up again for an instant replay, but nothing. Damn. That could have been useful. Instead, I focused on what I did understand from the memory. “She used to come here a lot,” I murmured. It had been whole and untouched in her lifetime, existing in perfection in the shadow of a cliff. Now I could see where the cliff had collapsed, crushing part of the pavilion and creating the tumble of boulders.

Kehlirik dipped his head in a nod. “Elinor. Yes. Alone and with the lord.”