 From
Chapter One
A woman?
Derrin frowned. A woman was not at all what he had expected to emerge from
the brilliant strands of light.
True, the web binding the edges of the world held unimaginable power, but Derrin
had never considered the possibility another world-other beings-existed beyond
it. He shook his head. This woman's appearance boded ill, of that he was certain.
He touched the shadow crystal hanging from a chain about his neck, sinking
his mind into the gem as he did so. The crystal, the most powerful one he'd
ever created, nestled in a cage of pure silver. He'd called forth the stone's
power before following High Wizard Balek's apprentice from the city, but that
had been in the hour before dawn, when the forest had been dark. Now, with
a single thought, Derrin deepened the protection, wrapping his crystal's shadow
around his body like a cloak. Confident he would not be detected, he stepped
into the light of the rising sun.
He circled Maator, all the while keeping his eyes trained on the woman from
beyond the web. She was staring across the valley at Katrinth, Galena's proud
capital city, her dark eyes wide with disbelief.
Her face paled, accentuating her fine, high cheekbones. A long tangle of dark
hair hung down her back. Her aspect seemed unremarkable enough, though her
dress was scandalous by Galenan standards. Her breasts were all but spilling
from her gown.
Her fingers fisted into her torn skirt. Tiny bits of glass edged the dark fabric.
Those were unremarkable, but a magnificent pink crystal nestled in her cleavage.
Derrin's breath hissed through his teeth. He had never seen a crystal the color
of the pale sea roses. Was she a sorceress? Had Balek summoned her because
of it?
Maator spoke to the woman, but Derrin was not near enough to make out his words.
The sorceress tore her gaze from the city to stare at the apprentice. She appeared
dazed, and more than a little unsteady. Her mouth opened, as if to reply to
Maator's remark, but no answer emerged. Instead, her eyes fluttered closed
and her knees buckled.
Maator sprung forward and caught her before she hit the ground. Straightening,
he shifted his burden in his arms and extracted a silver prism from the pouch
at his belt. A shadow crystal, not unlike Derrin's own. The stone flared and
the two figures faded. Shadowed, but not completely.
Derrin would be a poor wizard indeed if he could be thwarted by an apprentice's
defenses.
He allowed his vision to blur. Within seconds, he detected the slight disturbance
in the air currents that indicated his quarry had started the descent to the
city. He closed in swiftly. The path led into the scattering fog along the
river road.
He passed a scattering of half-timbered cottages and entered the city through
the market gate. The broad, unpaved plaza beyond was alive with shouts and
good-natured haggling. At the far end of the square, fishermen were already
unloading the morning catch onto the docks.
Maator avoided the bulk of the activity, skirting the vendors' stalls and slipping
into the fetid warren of crude dwellings that marked the Lower City. Derrin
ducked into a gloomy alley after him, sidestepping a pile of excrement where
a derelict lay wheezing. Open pustules covered the man's skin. His matted beard
crawled with insects.
Another victim of the Madness.
The guards stationed at the gates to the Upper City did not stir as Derrin
trailed Maator through the wide archway. Here, the paved streets were wide
and straight, the graystone mansions large and well-appointed. As always, their
sedate façades seem to frown on Derrin's passing.
Maator's footsteps didn't slow. He carried the limp body of the sorceress through
the steep streets, climbing ever higher. Entering the High Plaza in the shadow
of the Lords' Citadel, he skirted the elaborate façade of the Temple
of Lotark and the sweeping main stairway of the Wizards' Stronghold. He entered
the Stronghold through a seldom-used entrance on a side wall of the pyramid.
Derrin waited a few moments before following Maator into the home of the Wizards'
Hierarchy. He turned the corner leading to Balek's chambers as a door thudded
shut.
He approached it and listened. Maator and his mentor were speaking, their voices
muted by the thick wooden barrier. Derrin slid a clear stone disc from the
pouch at his belt and set it aglow with a silent command.
"Is she the one, Master?" Maator asked.
Derrin peered into his scrying stone and watched as the apprentice lowered
the unconscious woman onto a bench. Her torn dress fell open, exposing one
shapely thigh. Balek advanced, the sash of the Upper House of Wizards blood-red
against the black of his tunic. A faceted crystal, tinged with gold, nestled
in the high wizard's upturned palm. Power shimmered around it.
Revulsion tightened Derrin's gut. He'd touched the unholy gem Balek called
the webstone only once. He wasn't eager to repeat the experience.
 Balek
brushed the crystal against the woman's forehead and whispered
a single word. Her spine arched.
The high wizard leaned forward. "Yes," he whispered. "She is
the one." He passed his hand over the woman's face, causing her to gasp.
Derrin swore under his breath. Balek had linked the woman's mind to the webstone.
It was not a union her psyche would survive.
He withdrew and waited, shadowed in an alcove by the stairs,
all the while watching the scene in Balek's chamber in the
scrying stone. He saw Maator carry the woman to a rear chamber,
then returned to the workroom. After what seemed an interminable
time, Balek left to join the High Wizards' Council.
Derrin eased from his hiding place. Wrapped in the dark cloak
of his shadow crystal, he entered Balek's suite through a rear
portal. Within moments, he had transferred the woman to his
own chamber. She rolled to her side on his bed and curled into
a ball, moaning. Already, the webstone's power seeped through
her mind. Could the link be broken?
Derrin knew of only one person-other than Balek-who could tell
him, but the journey to her door was long.
The woman groaned and tore at the bedcovers. Derrin knelt at
her side, frowning, his gaze fixed on the crystal between her
breasts. Was she a sorceress? If so, Balek risked much to summon
her. A woman's magic was as potent as it was unpredictable.
The Hierarchy had banned females from the practice of wizardry
for just that reason. Yet Balek had sought this woman since before the winter
snows.
A sorceress from a world beyond the web would be a deadly weapon
in the high wizard's hands. There was no telling what ill forces
she could unleash on Galena.
He should kill her. Now.
His hands stole to her throat. His fingers touched her skin,
felt the pulse beating just below the surface. Warm. Alive.
His gaze dropped to her breasts, round and firm and all but
bare.
He hesitated. By all appearances, the sorceress wasn't in league
with Balek by choice. If Derrin could question her, the answers
she provided might shed some light on the high wizard's motives.
Yet as long as her mind remained ensnared, she could tell him
nothing.
He snatched his hands from her throat, his decision made. Swiftly,
he gathered the few supplies he would need for a journey into
the northern wilderness. Zahta would surely know how to free
the woman's mind.
Derrin only hoped after all these years, his grandmother would
not turn him away.
Gina's head felt like it had been cracked open from the inside.
A dirty yellow haze scattered her thoughts and about a million
little hammers pounded on her temple. But it wasn't until she
opened her eyes that she realized she had much bigger problems
than a morning-after headache.
Like, where the hell was she?
She was propped upright against a rough wall, sharp stone biting
into her spine. Tight cords chafed her ankles, sending shocks
of pain up her legs. The scents of smoke and earth mingled
with the musk of her own sweat. She twisted her arms, but her
wrists were bound in front of her and the knot held fast.
The skirt of her gown was in shreds, the quartz crystal that
had decorated the neckline gone. The bodice was torn, exposing
her simple white bra. It was the skimpiest one she had, thanks
to the low-cut of the costume, but at least it was something.
Thank God she had ignored Mikala's advice and worn it.
She fought a fierce urge to vomit. She'd been kidnapped. By
whom? The memory of a black pyramid floated at the edges of
her mind. The last thing she remembered was looking across
a valley at a city that couldn't possibly have been real. Someone
had been there-a harmless-looking blond kid. After that, her
memories disintegrated into sensation.
A yellow haze choking her brain. Movement. Struggle. A jarring
ride, as if she'd been thrown on the back of a horse. She thought
she'd screamed, fought, but she couldn't be quite certain,
as if she'd been...
Drugged. Someone must have slipped something into her drink
at the Wizards' Ball.
She peered into the dim light at her prison, a small room enclosed
by a ring of primitive masonry. A ceiling of wooden ribs arched
overhead. An animal skin draped the single doorway. Faint illumination
dropped from a hole in the center of the roof onto a heap of
smoldering ashes. The scene wavered, bringing a fresh rush
of nausea. Whatever she had ingested, it hadn't completely
worn off.
Whoever
had given it to her was sure to show up soon. She twisted sideways
and eyed a sharp protrusion on the stone wall. Ignoring her
lurching stomach, she hooked the rope binding her wrists over
it and began to saw.
Movement outside the doorway. Muffled voices. "No," a man said. His
tone held a note of anger.
A woman answered. "My son, you alone have the power. There is no one else." Her
voice faded. Gina renewed her assault on the rope, but all too soon the drape
at the door lifted.
Her time had run out.
She turned to see a figure silhouetted against a rectangle
of light. Not the blond kid from the forest. A man.
He was costumed in black-tunic, breeches and boots. He approached
with quick strides, his dark hair grazing his shoulders as
he walked.
"Who are you?" she blurted out. "Why did you bring me here?"
In lieu of an answer, the man dropped to one knee and touched Gina's face.
Heat flashed across her skin.
An open gash slanted across his right cheekbone. If not for
that imperfection, and the rigid cast of his features, Gina
might have thought him handsome. As it was, the cold, gray
mist of his eyes sent her heart pounding for an entirely different
reason.
She fought another surge of vertigo. "Do you want money? Take me home
and I'll get it."
"Are you a sorceress?"
"What?" The words were unfamiliar, as if he spoke in a foreign language,
yet his meaning was clear. No doubt another effect of whatever drug she'd been
given.
His hand came forward. She shrank back, against the stone, but he merely flicked
a strand of hair from her eyes and drew back, watching her.
"Are you a sorceress?" he asked again.
"I was a sorceress at the Ball, yes. Are you one of The Wizards? Is this
some kind of role-playing game?"
Disbelief flitted across his face. "Game? I assure you, Mistress. This
is no game."
The room lurched again. "I don't remember seeing you at the Ball. When
did you give me the drug?"
"Drug?"
"Cut the bull and tell me what the hell is going on," Gina snapped.
The yellow haze in her mind blazed hotly and a blinding surge of anger eclipsed
her fear. She swung at him, her bound fists glancing off his shoulder. He caught
her forearm. She twisted out of his grasp and fell on her side. The room spun
faster than before.
The man rose over her. She bucked, trying to jam her knees into his groin.
He dodged her awkward attack and leaned close, trapping her gaze in his, then
sprang up with the grace of a cat to crouch at her side.
Gina tried to move. Her body refused to obey, though her captor
was not restraining her in any way. The hazy yellow cloud in
her mind dulled and thickened. Her breath heaved as he leaned
forward, filling her vision.
His mind touched hers. A gentle probe at first, then a more
persistent, intimate stroke.
No. This couldn't be happening.
Open.
The
command, heard in the deepest recesses of her brain, was not a distinct syllable.
Had it truly come from the man's mind? Impossible. It was an illusion, an effect
of the drug.
Yet it felt so real. He called again, more urgently this time,
and for a fleeting moment Gina wanted nothing so much as to
let him in.
"Please," the man said aloud, his voice tight. "I don't want to
hurt you."
Open.
In the space of a heartbeat, she obeyed.
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