A Shadow on the Glass by Ian Irvine Page B

extraordinary, for she seldom empathized with anyone, but she no longer wanted to defeat him. Her heart was battering at her ribs. She clutched at her breast.
    He raised up his hand. His eyes might have been needlesof ice, so did they probe her, prick her. Her mouth was dry as sand. She fell back a pace, cowering, as though expecting him to strike her. At that he looked contemptuous, which struck her worse than any blow. She stepped back again. He had done nothing and already she was defeated.
    “Speak,” he whispered. Her lips began to make the words.
    Karan, still crouched behind the desk, was outraged. She kicked Maigraith in the ankle, trying to rouse her.
    Maigraith gasped. But I am strong, she thought, through the confusions. I have a duty here. She dashed the mist from her eyes. “No!” she cried, and drew herself up.
    Their eyes locked and Yggur was shocked into stillness. Suddenly she showed her strength; the strength perhaps of an equal, if she had the will for it. And something in her eyes disconcerted him momentarily. He stooped and stared at her, both surprised and intrigued. For a long time his eyes searched her, then he turned away thoughtfully.
    “Perhaps the weaker will serve,” he said, looking toward Karan’s hiding place. “Come forth. Look at me.”
    The pressure of his will was shocking. Karan looked as though the weight of a tree had fallen onto her shoulders, and she had no defense but her innate stubbornness. She staggered away from the desk. Her face was stark against the red confusion of her hair; her hand trembled so much that the Mirror fell to the carpet. Yggur looked from the Mirror to her to Maigraith.
    “Ah,” he said. “I begin to understand. Bring it to me.”
    Karan picked it up, backing away. “I will not,” she said, her voice breaking.
    “Go,” said Maigraith. “Leave me, Karan. Do as I bade you.”
    Yggur held up his hand, saying, “Stay!” and she wentstill, too afraid to move. He turned to Maigraith. “You
dare
defy me!”
    Maigraith stepped forward. “I will have my will, even over you, Yggur.
Go no further!
” Her soft-spoken words disguised a power that shivered Yggur from top to toe. He struggled but could not move. Then, not looking at her, Maigraith whispered, “Karan, flee! I cannot escape.”
    Karan stood mesmerized. Maigraith was still draining her through the link. You’re taking all my strength, she tried to say, but the words would not come. Yggur forced with all his will. Maigraith shrieked and he found he could move again. He took a painful step toward Karan, then another. He stooped over her.
    Karan looked pleadingly at Maigraith. Maigraith could not help her. Yggur’s huge hands gripped Karan’s shoulders but still she would not look at him. Her back began to bow under the weight of him. His grip was cruel on her small shoulders. With one hand he turned her face toward him. His smoky eyes bored into her. She glared up at him—terror had not robbed her of dignity, nor resolution.
    “Help me,” she cried in a thick voice, but Maigraith could do nothing.
    “I
command
you!” said Yggur. “
Who do you serve?
”
    Karan resisted, though the very force of his gaze seared her. She felt strengthless, hot and cold, dizzy, faint. Maigraith was sucking the life out of her across the link. There came a dreadful clanging in her brain, and each toll was the name that she dared not name. Was she in greater danger if she kept Faelamor’s secret, or if she revealed it?
    At last Karan could resist no longer. A tremor passed through her from head to foot.
    “Be silent,” Maigraith cried.
    Yggur shook Karan so hard that her teeth clacked together.“Was it
Mendark
that sent you?” He spat the name out, rage mixed with bitterness.
    “Yes,” cried Maigraith. “Mendark! Mendark sent us.”
    But it was too late. Karan’s face crumpled. There was bright blood on her lip. She tried to stop her mouth with her fist, but it betrayed her. One single word,