The Magehound   ::   Каннингем Элейн

Kiva watched them go, then turned her face to Andris. It seemed to the wondering jordain that some of the light lingered on her coppery features.

"I do not think I can explain to you what happened here, but since you will surely ask, I will try."

Andris nodded, not sure that he could speak. "Some elves join together to work magic. One elf acts as a center, drawing together the magic of the others and that of the surrounding land, focusing it and weaving it into a spell. In the city in Kilmaruu, there once were many elves, engaged in working a great magic. You can probably guess what they might have been attempting."

"A spell battle," he said. "They fought against the three wizards who diverted the river and created Kilmaruu Swamp."

"Fought, and lost," she said tersely. "The crystal was a tool to help focus their magic. Something went terribly wrong, and some of their essence was trapped when they died. But they were also linked to the magic of the land, and this link stayed open. I suspect that this is what drew and empowered the undead. I cannot say for certain. I do not know what terrible spells the three human necromancers might have used. But the elves are free now, thanks to you."

Andris considered this. "So we serve not only my people but yours as well. This is true also of the Swamp of Akhlaur?"

"Doubly so," Kiva said in a soft, dark tone. "One of those three necromancers was named Akhlaur. Like you, he learned from his experiences in Kilmaruu and went on to 'greyer things. I will not sooth you with pretty lies: What you saw in Kilmaruu is but a preparation. Knowing this, will you follow me still?"

The jordain glanced through the open window. The sky near the horizon was beginning to fade toward silver, but the stars still blazed, brighter and more joyous than he'd ever seen them.

He turned back to the magehound, and a passion that had nothing to do with Kiva's beauty burned in his hazel eyes.

"I will follow," he swore.



Chapter Sixteen



Tzigone hauled herself over the window ledge and dropped into the chamber. She crouched low to the floor and listened for sounds that spoke of the room's rightful occupant. No lights were on, but she hadn't lived this long by abandoning caution. Nor did she feel any qualm about invading Matteo's sanctum. After all, the shutters hadn't been closed and barred. If he had truly wanted to keep her out, he wouldn't have left them open.

She rummaged through the chest at the foot of his bed for one of his white tunics.