Finally, four of the men returned, their clothes changed, the blood gone. Wulfe wasn't with them.
Tighe smiled at Lyon as he took his seat across from Kara. "Glad to have you join us, Roar."
Lyon nodded, his expression serious. "Any improvement in Wulfe?"
"No. He's still feral." Tighe looked at Lyon with worry in his eyes. "He's like a wild animal. It's as if his beast has completely taken over. There's no sign of the man at all in there."
Paenther sat on the other side of Kara. "How soon can we get Kara ascended?"
"Soon. I'm going to take over the prepping myself. If she's as strong as Hawke predicts, it may not take a full week."
"Thank the goddess," Paenther said.
As the men dug back into the meal, Kara picked at her food as she struggled to process her role as she now understood it.
She was some kind of power plug for the Feral Warriors. And if Wulfe was right, if she failed, even Spearsville could be in trouble. Shame filled her at the realization. She'd been so worried about saving herself, she'd given very little thought to what her leaving would do to everyone else.
Dear God, she couldn't continue to live with her heart constantly trying to pound its way out of her chest, though. But maybe there was a reason for it, a reason Lyon would find and eliminate. Or maybe once she ascended, she'd be able to see it for herself, if it didn't go away.
Either way, it didn't matter. She had to stay.
As bizarre as it might seem, the world was depending on her.
Miss MacAllister. Preschool teacher. Radiant.
The source of power for the guardians of the world.
* * *
"You can feel my fear, can't you?"
Kara gripped the interior car door handle as Lyon drove back to the falls after lunch, taking the hills and sharp turns like a roller-coaster car.
He took his eyes off the road ahead for one moment to meet her gaze. "I can, yes."
"Have you felt the way it's been dropping as we've gotten farther and farther from the house?"
"The mind is a powerful thing, Kara. You're probably associating bad feelings with that place. Your grief the night your mother died. The nightmares."
Kara frowned at him. "You think I'm insane."
He met her gaze with a rueful lift of his lips. "Not insane."
"Deluded, then."
"Maybe a little unsettled by the shock of everything."
"Even though, as soon as I leave the house, I'm suddenly better?"
Lyon shrugged, his thick, golden hair brushing the broad shoulders of the rust-colored silk shirt he'd changed into after lunch. "Once we get you ascended, everything will be fine. You'll see."
"Fine?" Somehow she couldn't imagine life with Vhyper would ever be fine. But she didn't want to think about him right now.
She was still trying to wrap her mind around the fact that she was so blasted important to the world. If she was going to stay in this world of immortals and shape-shifters, she supposed she'd better start trying to understand it.
"Tell me more about the Therians, Lyon. Why were you at war with the Mage?"
"Most recently, because they'd killed one of my warriors. The previous jaguar."
"So the spirit of the jaguar somehow found Jag? That's how this works, right?"
"Yes. Upon the death of the man, the animal spirit flies to the strongest Therian with the blood of his line still running through his veins. Jag was the strongest."
"Was he a child?"
"No. Children are rarely the strongest. Jag was over seventy at the time."
"Why did the Mage kill the previous jaguar?"
His jaw hardened. "They wanted the Daemon blade. They've always felt they should be the ones to guard it, and we've always disagreed. More than once the question of its guardianship has caused war between us."
"I can't believe anyone would willing go to war with you and your men."
"The Mage have just enough magic to even the odds. Their magic and their damned superior attitude."
"What do you mean?"
"Most of them consider all other creatures inferior to them. Greatly inferior. In their eyes, Therians are little better than the animals we can, or could, shift into. Humans are no account at all."
"Are there only the three immortal races? The Therians, Mage, and Daemons?"
"There were others, but we're the only ones who survived."
"Are the Mage as strong as you are?"
"Physically, no. But they have their weapons. Mostly they're just pains in our butts. Unfortunately, we have to be very careful not to kill them with the freedom we might like. While we tap into the Earth's energy through our Radiant, the Mage are part of nature itself. At least they used to be. Before the mortgaging of their power to imprison the Daemons, the Mage could affect, and often control, many of nature's functions. The weather, the growth of plants and trees, the reproduction of many of the Earth's species."
"They sound like gods."
Lyon grunted as he turned onto the same residential street Hawke had earlier. "They think they are. But since the loss of their power, they've been reduced to doing little more than small spells and charms. The greatest danger they pose to us is their ability to mess with our minds."
"What do you mean?"
"Beguilement. Bewitchment. It's generally how they get the upper hand before we know they've declared war on us again. They can't maintain the beguilement long and generally have to be touching the Therian to do so. If a Therian goes missing, we always assume a Mage attack." He made a sound deep in his throat. "We quickly end the wars they start." There was something dark in his tone that told her the Mage involved generally didn't survive.
Lyon parked the Land Rover, and they both got out. The day was fully overcast, now, the clouds darker and the wind stronger than before. Kara zipped her jacket and joined Lyon as they started toward the woods they had to walk through to reach the falls.
"So they've enchanted Ferals to try to steal the Daemon blade?" she asked, glancing at him. The breeze had blown his tawny hair back, revealing the strong lines of his ruggedly handsome face.
"That's usually their goal."
"Why do they want it?"
"Because we're the only ones who can free the High Daemon and his horde."
"I have to admit, I can see their logic."
He scowled at her. "We would never free him. And we're not giving up control of that knife."
"What danger is there in letting the Mage have it if they can't free the Daemons?"
"The Mage have always been more vulnerable to Daemon manipulation than we are. And while the High Daemon is safely locked in the blade, there is evil still in the world that craves his return. We who cannot be turned to evil keep the blade."
"Do Mage look like us? Like humans?"
"For the most part. The only real difference is their eyes. True Mage have copper rings around their irises. Distinctive." He glanced at her sharply. "If you ever see someone with eyes like that, get away from them and tell one of the Ferals immediately."
"Would you kill them?"
"Depends. If they threaten you, then yes. I'll kill them."
Kara shoved her hands into her jacket pockets, lifting her shoulders against the chill of his words. There was something both heady and horrifying about his simply stated declaration. A vow she had no doubt he meant. Once again, she was reminded of how important she was to them.
The Radiant.
As they entered the woods, Lyon lifted a low-hanging branch for her to pass beneath. "In the old days, there was a second way to tell a Mage. The cantric. Occasionally you'll still find someone with one, so you should know what they look like, as well."
"What's a cantric?"
"A braided copper circle that takes a Mage's natural magic and magnifies it. All Mage are implanted with a cantric upon maturity. Without them, they'd have almost no magic at all anymore."
"So both the Mages' eyes and their power magnifiers are copper circles?"
"Not a coincidence. Copper is one of their elements."
"Where do they implant the cantrics?"
"Beneath the skin. Where depends on the person and the century in which he or she was born. In the old' days, Mage wore the cantrics in their faces, usually on the cheek. You could see the outline of it clearly beneath the cheekbone, and they often tattooed the skin over it so none would miss it. Humans knew to be wary of these creatures whom they considered witches. The hysteria against witches in the seventeenth century put an end to visible cantrics after half a dozen Mages were captured and burned at the stake. Most of the Mage cut the cantrics out of their faces and implanted them in other parts of their bodies. Unseen places."