Advent (Advent Mage Cycle) Read online

  A Tonkawacon camp is unlike anything else in this world. They have these tents made of thick hides and some sort of material that I’ve never seen anywhere else. It, in some ways, offered better protection and comfort than stone walls did. The tents are huge, well able to house a large family and all of their belongings. Most of them are dark brown in color, or black, but they also have large streamers coming out of the top in different colors. It only made sense—if not for the varied colored streamers, how else could the people tell their tent from everyone else’s? As I approached, snow and wood smoke drifted around me, as well as the tantalizing scent of meat cooking.

  As expected of a Tonkawacon tribe, horses were everywhere. Some of them were tethered, but most ran free. Well, that is to say, most followed their owners around like faithful dogs. It rather reminded me of Night, actually…. Considering the cold, I expected most of the camp to be inside their tents, but from the looks of it almost everyone chose to be outside. They cooked, sewed, tended to horses and children alike, and talked to anyone within ear shot.

  I’ve never been able to find any rhyme or reason for how the camp is laid out. This area had all the earmarks of being their normal winter camp, as the few trees that were within the vicinity had been so completely incorporated into the camp’s layout that it had to been planned that way. Worn paths wove in between the tents, as well, almost like functioning streets lined with crisp snow.

  Normally I just stumbled around until someone took pity on me and pointed me in the right direction. This time, Trev’nor rather took care of finding Roha. He pelted forward, weaving with practiced ease between tents, horses, campfires and people. I just tried to keep up.

  “Roha!” he called as he dove into a familiar looking mahogany tent.

  I ducked in after him, blinking to let my eyes adjust to the dimmer lighting. A single fire burning in a brazier in the middle, surrounded by a rainbow ring of plush pillows and blankets, warmed the tent comfortably. Trunks and low sitting seats or beds lined the inside walls, providing a very open space in the middle. Roha sat on one of these pillows, looking just as she had a year ago, when I first met her. Silver hair still plaited in a complex pattern that denoted her status of DauZmor, skin tanned by many years in the sun until it looked like beaten leather, thin frame appearing heftier with the layers of tunics to keep out the winter chill. Trev’nor—probably out of sheer habit—had already made himself comfortable in her lap, happily exchanging hugs. The kid kept saying he was too old to be held anymore, until situations like this cropped up, and then he conveniently forgot his age.

  “Garth, you got here quickly,” Roha greeted me with a wide smile. “And Trev, how you’ve grown!”

  “I’m going to be taller than Garth,” he announced proudly.

  “I keep telling him to aim higher than that.” I shook my head at the boy, mock-frowning as Roha chuckled. “How are you, Roha?”

  “Still moving, which is a blessing. Come sit down, Garth. Night, how are you?”

  “Well, thank you. And glad to be out of Del’Hain.” Night followed me all the way inside.

  “I expect that the reason you are here is because of my letter?” Roha turned penetrating eyes on me.

  “Yes.”

  “Let’s get comfortable first,” Roha suggested. “Garth, go ahead and take all of that tack off of Night. Are you hungry?”

  Not particularly, but I knew from experience that Roha liked to feed people. And, well, I was always able to eat. I had experienced something of a growth spurt over the winter, gaining another inch in height. Since hunger still attacked at random moments, I had hopes that my growth spurt wasn’t over yet.

  I took the saddle and bridle off of Night before settling back near Roha. This being a Tonkawacon tent, there was plenty of room for a few horses, even ones of Night’s large stature. My four legged friend settled on the ground next to me, legs curled up comfortably to one side.

  Roha leaned over to the side, lifting the lid off a rather large black pot from the brazier in the center of the tent. A delicious aroma drifted into the air, and my mouth started watering. I was hungrier than I realized.

  Both Trev’nor and I were handed large bowls of some thick stew that I didn’t recognize—not that it particularly bothered me at that moment. I dug in happily. Roha, being a good hostess, did not neglect Night. She pulled a basket of slightly wrinkled apples out from some trunk behind her and put them in front of him. Night’s eyes lit up as he started crunching his way through those apples with whickers of delight.

  Once we were eating she relaxed back into her seat. We talked of inconsequential things as I ate, Trev’nor largely dominating the conversation as he wanted to tell Roha everything, it seemed. Only after our bowls were put into a cleaning bucket did the discussion turn to the main reason we were here.

  “Trev’nor, go and fetch my black box,” Roha directed.

  Apparently Roha always set up her tent the same way, as Trev’nor immediately went and fetched it without any more instruction than that. He brought back a black wooden box that filled his arms, although it didn’t appear to be heavy, as he wasn’t straining to carry it.

  Roha accepted the box from him with a nod of thanks. There was a white ribbon-like cord wrapped around it in a series of complicated knots. I would have been there all month trying to unravel it—Roha, naturally, undid everything with three quick tugs.

  Her gnarled hands pulled out a leather-bound book, looking a little worn on the binding. The original color had been a perhaps a light tan, but years of handling had stained most of the spine and edges a dark brown. I took it carefully, opening to the first page.

  The language was indeed Chahirese, written in a long, flowing hand. A diary, from all appearances.

  “Read it out loud,” Trev’nor urged. He scrambled into my lap, and I obligingly lifted my arms long enough for him to settle himself. For Roha’s sake, I tried to translate it into Hainish as I read. It started out with the traditional opening of a family record.

  “I, the daughter of Nigarrien, have today married into another family. This shall be the record of my new life and family, and from this day forth I shall be known as Rhebenbrennan.”

  I froze, book nearly falling from nerveless fingers. So it was true. Trev’nor was a Rheben. This had never happened before—never had we found two Mages out of the same family.

  “I’m a Rheben,” the six year old in my lap breathed.

  “Yes,” I managed past a dry mouth. I was delighted to have him in the family, happy to be related to him. It was just the possibility of having even more Mages appear in the same family that had me stunned and reeling.

  “What else?” He bounced impatiently in my lap. “What else does it say?”

  I shook my head, clearing it of conjecture, and went back to reading. The history was pretty much what I expected, giving the standard information that a woman would record upon being newly married. The journals of my grandmother and great-grandmother sounded very similar to this. If Trev’nor hadn’t been in my lap, hanging on every word, I probably would have skimmed past this part to the later chapters.

  I wanted to know what happened when Trev’nor was born.

  Had his parents known that their son was magical? Trev’nor’s powers were waking up when Roha first found him—had his parents realized what was going on? Or was it some other business that had brought them into Hain? Really, Trev’nor should be the one called the Advent Mage, as his magic had started waking up before mine had.

  After about ten pages of reading, my throat got dry and my legs—which were supporting a heavy little boy—were going to sleep.

  “Trev, sorry, I’ve got to take a break.”

  “Oh, okay.” Even disappointed, he willingly scrambled off my lap.

  I slid my legs out with a sigh, wincing at the pins and needles sensation of the blood flowing again.

  “This is very interesting,” Roha observed with her eyes on the diary. “Garth, do you recognize this woma
n’s name?”

  “No,” I admitted. “But her husband—Rhebendaven—does sound a little familiar. I think he was a second cousin. I’ll have to check my family records to be sure.”

  “So what does that make me?” Trev’nor had a puzzled look on his face, eyes nearly crossing with some sort of mental calculation.

  “Um, third cousin?” I wasn’t sure about that one. “I think, anyway.”

  “A more distant relation than I thought,” Roha mused with a thoughtful frown that drew the lines in her face closer together. “I would have assumed you two to be closer.”

  “Yes, it is a little strange, isn’t it?” I agreed.

  “The place where Trev’nor was born might have a strong influence,” Night suggested. He lowered his head to peer at the journal. “Does she mention anywhere where they lived?”

  I scanned a few pages, but no names of cities or towns leaped out at me. “Not so far. But if she does, I definitely want to investigate the place. If Trev’nor’s birthplace has strong ley lines, it could explain why his magic woke up so early.”

  “Can you read again now?” Trev’nor gave an imploring look that would put Didi to shame.

  I sighed. I was feeling prophetic—I would be completely hoarse before Trev’nor was satisfied.

  Chapter Two: Emergencies

  Despite having read well into the night, I didn’t gain any answers to my questions. We returned to the diary once more after breakfast. I took it in easy stages this time, reading a few pages, then resting my voice for a few minutes. It was feeling rather scratchy after yesterday.

  At one point we investigated the other contents of the box. There were a few personal effects—a pair of slightly tarnished wedding rings, a few letters from friends or family, a well-loved book of poetry and fables.

  “We had to burn anything made of cloth,” Roha explained apologetically. “They died of a high fever—we weren’t sure how contagious it might be.”

  I nodded in understanding. “Just this is a blessing, Roha.”

  “What we’ve learned so far is interesting,” Night observed as he once again studied the diary over my shoulder. “Trev’nor’s father was a blacksmith…just like your father, Garth.”

  “It’s not that big of a coincidence,” I admitted. “Most of my family turns out to be a blacksmith, a carpenter, or a stonemason. I think we had one rebel a generation back that went into mapmaking, but he was the exception.”

  Night’s ears perked at this. “The influence of Earth Mage blood, perhaps? Those are all professions that deal with the elements of the earth.”

  I rubbed my chin thoughtfully, considering his words. “You know, I hadn’t considered it in that light before, but you might be right.”

  “Magic in blood runs strong,” Roha agreed with a wise nod. “Its influence would be there even if you were unaware of it.”

  “I just wish she had mentioned where Trev’nor was born,” I complained to no one in particular. We had read about Trev’nor’s birth this morning, and while it was all very sweet, it didn’t give any of the information that I wanted.

  There was a slap against the tent wall—the Tonkawacon version of a knock on the door—and then a familiar dark head ducked inside.

  “Small Rider!” I was as surprised to see him as I was pleased. Small Rider was not of the Del Tribe, and so I hadn’t expected to run into him this trip. Putting the diary aside, I stood to greet him, clasping his forearm as he did mine.

  “Garth.” His smile winked out from sun darkened skin. He had grown as well since I saw him last, gaining a good half-hand of height, which put him a good head taller than me. His pitch black hair had another, more elaborate weave that incorporated a dark red ribbon, which significance escaped me. Other than that, he looked the same as always, if more mature, as he lost his baby fat. “You’re a troublesome man to track down.”

  “Entirely Guin’s fault,” I defended myself. “The man has been so busy dispatching me places, I feel like a homing pigeon.” That last sentence sank in and my joy faded a bit. “Don’t tell me there’s something wrong?”

  “I’m afraid so,” Small Rider answered darkly. “I’m sorry our reunion has to be for this—it’s a sad occasion. The truth is, I contacted Roha of Del,” he nodded in formal greeting to the DauZmor, which was returned just as politely, “because I knew that you contacted her on a semi-regular basis. She told me that she expected you here soon, in response to a letter she sent to you.”

  “So you came here to get me, knowing I’d be here?” I guessed.

  “Yes. Garth…our horses are dying.”

  I felt a cold knot form in my chest at the words. Nothing was more sacred to the Tonkawacon than their horses. “What’s wrong?”

  “We don’t know,” he growled, braid shaking as he shook his head in frustration. “That’s part of the problem! We’ve tried every remedy that we can think of, but nothing has proven very effective. We have such limited time, I can’t break a trail all the way to Del’Hain and back for help—it would take months. It took me two days just to get here!”

  The talk of time made it clear what he needed from me. “Because I travel the earth path, however, I can get you there faster.”

  “Yes.” He nodded vigorously. “Will you?”

  “Of course. I’m not sure how much help a Wizard or Witch would be, but they’ll surely come to do whatever they can.”

  “What about Cora?” Trev’nor asked in confusion. “Wouldn’t she know what to do?”

  I looked down at that inquiring face and felt like smacking my forehead for being such an idiot. “Of course! Trev, you’re a genius. Small Rider,” I turned back to him abruptly, “there’s a new Life Mage in Del’Hain. She, more than anyone, can help you.”

  “Get her,” he begged. “Please.”

  I nodded firmly. “Of course. Even if I have to kidnap her.”

  Small Rider relaxed a little in relief, the tension bleeding out of his stiff shoulders. “Thank you.”

  “Trev?” I dropped down to knee level. “I think you understand enough Chahirese to read the rest of that diary—do that while I’m gone, all right?”

  “Okay,” he agreed easily.

  “Night, stay or go?” I asked my nreesce.

  He deliberated for a moment before answering, “Stay. I’ll read over Trev’nor’s shoulder. It’ll be less nerve wracking for me—you’re going to go at an insane speed, aren’t you?”

  “Probably,” I admitted.

  “Then I’m definitely staying,” he insisted with a shudder of horror that rippled across the surface of his skin.

  “Okay.” I stood up again, snatching my jacket and shrugging quickly into it. “Small Rider, I’ll be back here before the day is out.”

  ~*~

  It was a very quick trip to Del’Hain—in fact, I think I set myself a new record. I made it to the capitol in about an hour. The earth was still shuddering a little when I rose above ground again.

  I cut through all of the red tape and went directly to the Academy. Guin and Val Haben would definitely have words to say to me later about skipping them, but right now I didn’t have enough time to go through all the channels. In fact, I wasn’t even sure if I should notify the Trasdee Evondit Orra—arguing with them about taking a newly minted Mage out of the city might take days. Sending a note seemed like a better idea.

  After all, it’s easier to get forgiveness than permission.

  I found Cora—no surprise—in the nreesce stables, conversing with one of the older mares. In the year since I met her, she hadn’t changed much—the only real changes were that her pale hair was generally woven up around her head these days, and she wore the deep red robes of a Life Mage. She looked up as I approached, head cocking in surprise.

  “Garth? I thought you and Trev’nor went up to Tonkawacon country.”

  “We did. Something’s come up, Cora, and I need your expertise.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “What’s wrong?”

  “A
tribe of the Tonkawacon is losing all of their horses to some sickness—only they can’t tell what it is, and they don’t know how to treat it.”

  “All of their horses?” she gasped in disbelief.

  “That’s what I was told,” I answered grimly. “I need you to come with me. Now.”

  True Life Mage that she is, Cora didn’t even hesitate. “Give me ten minutes to pack. Go tell the Trasdee Evondit Orra. I’ll meet you there.”

  “Right.” I spun on my heel and went back the other direction, heading for the heart of the Academy. I didn’t want to call for a full Council session—dealing with EnNelle of Tain was never a picnic—but I figured I could inform either Doss or O’danne and get by with it. They were the sensible, forgiving sort.

  Doss’s office was empty when I stopped by, but O’danne was in. He was elbow deep in some contraption that I couldn’t put a purpose to. But then, most magical contraptions were like that. The elderly professor looked a bit more haggard than normal, with his hair sticking up in every possible direction, clothes hanging askew and a wide smear of ink across one cheekbone. Still, when I paused in his doorway, he looked up with a smile of pleasure. “Garth, my boy! I thought you were out of the city.”

  “I was. Sir, there’s a situation among the Tonkawacon right now. Their horses are becoming deathly ill, and they can’t figure out why or how to cure it.”

  O’danne’s smile evaporated. “That is very serious business.”

  “Yes,” I agreed simply. “I’m taking Cora back up with me to figure it out.”

  “Good call. If you need any medications or something of that sort, don’t hesitate to come back here to get them.”

  I relaxed when I realized I didn’t have to argue with the man about anything. This is why O’danne was one of my favorite people on the Council. “Understood.”

  “For my information, which tribe is this?”

  “Haru Tribe.” Which was one of the tribes not usually seen this far south—they tended to stay up near the north of Hain.