The Sword of Aradel by Alexander Key Page B

was careful not to do too soon—they were back in the cavelike area they had started from earlier. He knew they had been away only a matter of minutes, though it seemed they had been gone for hours.
    As they stepped from the landing circle, he was startled to hear the voice of the invisible Nysa just ahead of him.
    â€œHeaven be praised!” she said thankfully. “As soon as you were gone I had a terrible feeling about Rondelaine. You had trouble?”
    â€œYes,” said Merra. “But Sir Brian’s sword took care of it.”
    â€œI prayed that it would. And the formula—you could not find it?”
    Merra’s lip trembled. “It—it was burned. Everything in the room was burned.” Suddenly her soiled hands became little fists beating at the air. “They even burned Cerid’s Bible! The rotten wretches! Oh, I’ll make them pay! I’ll burn them! I’ll burn them all! If it’s the last thing I do—”
    â€œNow, Merra.”
    Nysa’s voice, softly reproving, brought sudden silence. “I know how you feel, my dear,” she went on, shimmering so that all at once she became visible to Brian. “But vengeance is not the way of the Dryads. Of course, Albericus and many others must die—it cannot be avoided. Only remember: We fight not for vengeance, but to save Aradel.”
    â€œOh, fie!” Merra burst out. “You are right—but how can I help hating? It’s awful to be so—so helpless!”
    Nysa gave a sad little sigh. “Then keep your hate. Maybe you will need it for what lies ahead. It will take more than courage to find the true sword.”
    She paused, then said, “Now, you had an idea of your own about the formula. Is it the same thought I have—to get Benedict’s help?”
    â€œYes. But you’ll have to go and get him, because I haven’t the power to bring him. He’s too big.”
    â€œVery well. I’ll go for him. I know Benedict will do his best, but I can see certain difficulties. It may not even work.”
    Merra swallowed. “It’s got to work. It’s our only chance.”
    â€œWe’ll see. Call to him and tell him I’m on my way.”
    While Merra closed her eyes in concentration, Brian watched the slender Nysa move quickly to one of the departure circles and begin a rapid chant. So soft was her voice that he could not distinguish the words, and it surprised him when she abruptly vanished without the preliminary shimmering he had expected.
    It was long minutes before Merra opened her eyes. Afterward she stood frowning and biting her lip, obviously upset about something.
    â€œWhat’s wrong?” he asked.
    â€œEverything! Uncle Benedict is not at the abbey, and on top of it the peasants—” She shook her head and looked ruefully at her soiled hands. “Let’s clean up and find something to eat, and I’ll tell you about it. It—it’s sort of complicated.”
    After they had washed outside by the crystal pool, Merra made tea at the fireplace just as Nysa had, and set out black bread and cheese from the cupboard. It startled Brian to see her start the fire for the tea, for she merely waved her small hands once over the coals, snapped her fingers, and the bright flame rose as quickly as it had for her aunt.
    â€œHow do you manage to get a fire going the way you and Nysa do it?” he asked, after they had begun to eat.
    â€œOh, it’s simple enough,” she said with a little shrug. “Mother was even better at it than we are. She could make anything burn. You just have to think a certain way, and sparks fly when you snap your fingers. I only wish it was as easy to become invisible, like the rest of the Dryads. I know how, but the best I can do is to fade out for just a few seconds. Then it takes all the strength I have. It makes me so mad!”
    â€œMaybe you’re not old enough