Mind of the Magic (Arhel Book 3) by Holly Lisle

dreaming that the magic of Arhel has begun to run rampant. My theory is that Arhel will return to normal when someone wakes him. But waking him will take an act of will and magic unlike anything that Arhel has ever seen.”
    Faia’s ears caught that phrase, and she frowned thoughtfully.
An act of will and magic.
And her mother’s words came back to her.
    You will have a test—a test of your courage and your will—and, too, of your love for your friends, and for all the people of Arhel. You alone have both the magic and the spirit to do what must be done.
    “Of course,” she whispered. This act of will and magic—waking Delmuirie, setting right the wrong, wild magic overrunning Arhel—certainly this was the destiny about which her mother had spoken.
    She smiled slowly. Her destiny was not just to lead Witte A’Winde to the First Folk ruins. She could feel the truth of the real need in her very blood. She closed her eyes; at last she would have a chance to be Arhel’s hero, to remove the stain on her name that the burning of Bright and the near-leveling of Ariss had left. She would wake Delmuirie, and return Arhel to its rightful state.
    “Good,” she whispered. “When this is done, there will be none in Arhel who curse my name.”
    Witte looked up at her and his bushy brows knit together. “You look awfully pleased by all of this,” he said. “I’d like to know why.”
    “I’m looking forward to seeing my friends again,” Faia lied. “But I’ve decided we need to get ready and go to the ruins now.”
    Kirtha wandered out into the hall. “It’s still dark, but I’m not sleepy anymore, Mama. Can I get up now?” The little girl rubbed her eyes with the backs of her hands. “Did Gramma come back?”
    “You can get up.” Faia scooped her daughter up and hugged her; she was grateful for the interruption. “It is going to be dark for a long time. Gramma did not come back. I don’t think she will.” She swallowed the sudden lump in her throat and said, “I think she told me what I needed to know.”
    Witte’s eyes narrowed. “Your mother stopped by?”
    “Yes.” Faia did not wish to have her wonderful miracle questioned, so she said nothing else.
    “Gramma is a ghost,” Kirtha said helpfully. “She’s very pretty.”
    Leave it to Kirtha to blurt out Faia’s secret. “My mother appeared to me as I was lighting candles for the spirits of the dead. She told me something that confirmed much of what you say.”
    “Your mother’s
ghost
confirmed…?” Witte frowned, and shook his head slowly. “I don’t like the sound of that—not at all.”
    Faia shrugged. Odd that the little man would remark on what her mother said, but not the fact that her mother had been there in the first place. Then she considered… he’d summoned gods to her garden. The ghost of a lone mother must seem pretty unspectacular to him.
    Witte gnawed on the tip of his braid and glowered into the darkness. “It doesn’t matter,” he said suddenly. “Are you ready to leave now?”
    She had hoped to get a birthing present for Roba, who had surely delivered her baby by this time. She’d hoped to take gifts to Medwind and Kirgen, too. But this sign that her destiny awaited her was more important than finding gifts. She felt the thrill of anticipation, of waiting adventure, of the promise of a fulfillment she would never find in Omwimmee Trade. “I have to dress Kirtha and myself in warm clothes, and pack a few supplies. And talk to Matron Bendreed about feeding Hrogner.”
    Witte smiled slowly. “Bring your cat, why don’t you? It will be a short trip—and I have to believe a cat named Hrogner would be lucky for me.”
    Faia snorted. “Not for me. Hrogner is a four-legged disaster.”
    “The best kind. I’ll watch him—I
like
that cat.”
    “He will stay here,” Faia said firmly. “He’s too much trouble—and Kirtha and I will be gone a week or so. He would be hard to keep up with in the mountains for that