Free A Flame in Hali by Marion Zimmer Bradley Page A

placed there.
    “You will be my champion. You will lead my army. You will throw down my enemies and bring the dawning of a new age!”
    “Naotalba! Naotalba!” Saravio’s physical body crouched even lower. In the vision, he prostrated himself before her. “I am yours to command!”
    Slowly, the pale-skinned woman smiled. Eduin drew the moment out to heighten Saravio’s desperate loyalty.
    “Tell me, I beg you! How may I serve you?”
    Eduin painted a landscape of mental energy. Naotalba and her ragtag army stood upon a ruined plain. Steam rose from rents in the parched earth. The sky lowered, red and congested, above them. A wind, tinged with ice from Zandru’s coldest hell, pulled at their hair and clothing. The vision-Saravio moaned and pressed his face against her foot.
    “Arise, my general. Arise and see!”
    She turned, pointing. Eduin shaped a rocky tor, and upon its peak, a Tower. He imagined it as white and smooth, like Hali. He showed the people crying out in despair. Then lightnings flew from the hand of Naotalba, lacing the air. When they touched the sides of the Tower, the resulting explosions left jagged fissures. Fragments of wall tumbled down and the Tower rocked upon its foundations. The people cheered wildly. They waved their fists and stamped their feet. Frenzy lit their faces.
    “Lead us! Saravio, lead us to victory!”
    Eduin held the scene as the people rushed forward, but was careful not to direct any action upon the figure of Saravio. This was not from any squeamishness about imposing his own will on the other man. He’d captured Saravio’s visions easily enough and shaped them to his own purpose. No, in order for Eduin’s plan to succeed, Saravio’s commitment must arise from own deepest wishes. It was he who would be the visible spearhead. Eduin could not risk public exposure. Saravio would take the brunt of any reprisals should their plans go awry. In that event, he, Eduin, must be free to try again, and that meant not presenting himself as the leader.
    In the shared vision, the figure of Saravio lifted his head. Eduin saw the glisten of imaginary tears upon his cheeks. Saravio looked not like a man demented, but a man transfixed. Awe had given way to acceptance and then to utter joy. A light shone in his eyes, a light not of the flesh but of something beyond. Envy stirred in Eduin, though he scarcely recognized it.
    Eduin willed the figure of Naotalba closer. She reached out her ghostly arms and raised Saravio to his feet. Then, bending close, she whispered in his ear.
    “Be faithful, O my champion. Be faithful and strong. My enemies lurk everywhere, and those who once betrayed me are ready to rise up again. Will you serve me?”
    Saravio’s eyes never left her face, but his assent was swift and unequivocal, his obedience complete.
    “Then go—go and save my people! Lead them in the ways of righteousness and truth! Throw down the Towers and all the evil-doers who dwell therein! ”
    When Eduin returned to himself, he was sitting on the floor, his back muscles on the edge of spasm, his hands balled into fists, his jaw clenched. Saravio lay on the cot, gulping air and moaning softly.
    Eduin clambered to his feet. His body cried out for food. He went to the shelf where the remains of yesterday’s supper lay wrapped—stale bread and cheese, a couple of shriveled apples, along with a half-full skin bottle of sour watered ale. He ate the apples and half the cheese, then forced himself to leave the rest for Saravio. He would have to resume his Tower exercises if he were to do any more laran work.
    Eduin lowered himself to the cot, curling his body into the empty corner. Saravio had started snoring gently, but Eduin fell into an exhausted slumber. His last waking thought was that the storm had abated.

    They slipped through the shadows along the street leading to The White Feather. The last dusky light had faded from the sky and there were few lamps here. Even the inns and other places