Inkblots: A Tale of Magic, Adventure, and Romance

XXV. Bindings

Kit followed immediately behind the old woman, striding past Alia without the least acknowledgment. There seemed to be nothing rude or intentional about it—rather, it was as though she had become invisible after her bath. Normally this would have been irritating, but right then she was relieved. She could barely raise her eyes to the curls on the back of his head as they walked. Trying to speak to him would have been a nightmare.

Their walk across the cavern had the air of a procession, somber in a way that Alia couldn't pinpoint. She stayed hushed and saw Kit's head bow slightly as they worked their way past tribespeople and into the emptier, darker reaches of the gloom. He didn't question Liandra at all. Alia felt the pressure of barely constrained curiosity pushing against the seal of her lips, but the two in front of her revealed no clues.

Alia felt under some sort of spell as they walked on into the depths of the cave. There were tiny glimmers ahead, shimmering, and it wasn't until she was nearly upon them that they resolved into the flickering wicks of dozens of tiny candles. The flames shaped a path, and Liandra followed it into a small grotto. Alia looked at the opening, carefully leaning around low stalagmites, and when she finally came to a stop inside, the mood had somehow changed.

Here, only one tiny candle burned, and all she could make out were the silhouettes of her companions. Kit looked tense and stiff, but Liandra merely sat on a rock with her hands in her lap.

"You know this place," said the old woman. Her voice was soft, calm, brushing against the walls of the enclosure gently.

The sharp noise that tore from Kit in return was the opposite. Half laugh, half sob, it tore through the air and reverberated until Alia could feel his anguish in her bones. Her fingernails dug into her palm as he said, "I thought you might bring me here." His tone was flat, but it contained every terrible emotion nonetheless.

Liandra waited quietly, and Alia froze, listening to the loud thumping of blood in her veins.

"Who are you?" Kit asked, sounding more calm.

Liandra, thought Alia, but the woman's answer did not contain her name. "She was... my daughter's daughter." The old woman said, voice cracking.

Everything clicked, and Alia let a sharp gasp escape before she could stifle it. The sorceress??

"Yes, Alia," Kit said, sounding surprisingly gentle. The thought occurred to her the he pitied her when she ought to be the one pitying him. "She was just a girl. I suspected at the beginning, and I knew it there at the last. She was a girl of flesh and blood. A girl." For a moment, it seemed as though he would go on saying it over and over, but at last, his shadowed profile swiveled jerkily toward Liandra. "I wouldn't dare ask forgiveness," he said, voice barely a murmur. "But my fate is yours. Anything yours." It seemed he had finished speaking, but one more sentence burst forth from the hero in an involuntary manner. "I held her at the end," he choked. "As long as I could."

Alia was quite certain he was crying. For a moment, she had the thought that perhaps if she only listened hard enough, she would hear the noise of his teardrops falling upon the sand. Then she realized there was a startling wetness on her cheeks. The Hero wasn't the only one moved to tears. Her mind projected the ghostly image of a dying girl, glimmering with blue magic cradled in Kit's arms there in the middle of the grotto. It was a painful image, but she couldn't banish it.

Liandra sighed from her seat, the sound smooth and calm but heart—wrenching nonetheless. "Young one," she said, sounding almost gentle, "you do not need my forgiveness. I have brought you here to give you my thanks."

"Thanks?" Bitter pain infused Kit's speech.

"Khati had the ancient gift," said Liandra, sounding very old and very tired. "A gift from my mother's bloodline, I'm afraid. I tried to teach her what little I knew. Perhaps that was my mistake. I didn't even know the ancient name for it, much less how to protect her. My warning went unheeded and the magic took her. She had seen only twelve summers."