Fjell ground his teeth, stepping away from the pressure on his back and glancing behind himself. The spike of ice rose from the ground, sharp and thick enough to puncture through his mail, and at a perfect angle to have speared his heart.
“Fair play,” he said begrudgingly.
“Shall we go again?” Ailbhe asked.
Tapping his practice blade against his shield, the dwarf nodded and turned back to face his opponent.
Chapter 32
Garden chairs were brought out when Isabel joined Marsilia and Eogain in the courtyard. Nearly two dozen guards had gathered at the far side of the courtyard to watch as well, though none of them were offered seating. While the Lady and sorceress made commentary to each other on the ongoing fights between Fjell and Ailbhe, Marsilia sat silent, watching.
The elf lord was fast and cunning. The few times Fjell had managed to land a direct hit that Ailbhe could not roll off of his shield, the force of impact had driven him back several feet. Yet, the dwarf could not manage to get past the elf lord’s defenses for more than glancing blows.
Marsilia knew Fjell was skilled; she’d fought beside him, after all. It was just that Ailbhe was that much more skilled. Then again, he had been the general of the Unseelie army for centuries.
Still, as the fights continued, it was clear that the dwarf was learning and adapting. In their third match, Ailbhe tried the same ice spike technique again, Fjell ducked under it, shattering it with a kick even as he defended himself with this shield from the elf’s strike. Each time that Ailbhe ended a match having Fjell dead to rights, they would talk for a moment and when the elf tried the same thing again later, the dwarf was ready.
As the two warriors faced off yet again, Marsilia watched as Fjell adjusted his stance. His fighting gradually changed over the course of their passes. Where before he had planted his feet like a boulder that would not be moved, he now remained looser, lighter.
Ailbhe closed with him and the courtyard was once more filled with the drum of the practice blades upon shields as they struck at each other. Fjell danced around Ailbhe’s quick blows, jerking his shield to intercept each strike, before planting his feet and striking in return.
The elf and dwarf froze in place, the tip of Ailbhe’s blunted sword pressed against Fjell’s side where, were it real blades, the elf could eviscerate him. But, Marsilia realized, Fjell’s practice blade was hovering just beside Ailbhe’s head. Even with the elf’s armor, Marsilia suspected Fjell’s strength could cut through the helm with ease, sharp edge or not.
Both lowered their arms and Ailbhe tucked his practice sword under his arm and held out his hand. Fjell followed suit and clasped the elf’s arm, whatever they were saying to each other lost behind their helms and the distance from which Marsilia watched.
“Do you think Lord Ailbhe allowed that?” Eogain asked Isabel.
“No, the boy learns quickly,” Isabel answered, shaking her head. “What could Ailbhe teach him by allowing a blow he didn’t earn?”
Marsilia couldn’t help but glance over at the elf and Lady. “Is it normal to watch practice fights and comment on them?” she finally asked, frowning.
“Only when the two combatants are skilled enough to make it interesting,” Isabel answered with a small smile. “Your dwarf is quite talented to be able to go toe to toe with my husband.”
Frowning, Marsilia turned her gaze back to the two warriors. Their helms now removed, both were drenched in sweat with their hair plastered to their heads as they chatted amiably. Despite his repeated losses, Fjell wore a huge grin, and even Ailbhe was smiling more than she’d seen from him before.
The white witch found herself smiling as she watched them. She might not fully understand their drive to fight, but it was clear they’d had fun doing it, that they both found joy in practicing their arts of war. Fjell glanced in her direction and seeing her smile, smiled at her in return. Her heart caught in her throat as she met those brown eyes from across the courtyard.
Feeling heat begin to creep into her cheeks, she quickly turned to Lady Isabel. “Will you be joining us in the woods today, your grace?” she asked, but faltered.
The Lady was watching her with an amused smile. “Allow me to let you in on a little secret, Marsilia,” Isabel said. “If you find a good man who is willing to fight at your side against a dark witch, you’d be wise to be upfront with whatever you feel for him.”
Marsilia felt her ears and cheeks burn with embarrassment and attempted to stammer out some form of reply. The Lady chuckled, patting the witch’s knee before standing and gliding across the courtyard to her husband. Fjell offered her a small bow as she approached then turned, heading to where Marsilia and Eogain still sat.
The elven sorceress smiled faintly and glanced aside at Marsilia. “If you’ll excuse me a moment,” she murmured, standing and wandering off to chat with one of the staff that waited politely out of the way.
Sighing in exasperation, Marsilia stood and smoothed down her black cotehardie, trying to get her blushes under control by sheer force of will. It didn’t seem to be working; she could still feel the heat in her cheeks and ears.
What was she feeling for him? And when had it begun? So much had been happening so rapidly and he had become her touchstone through it all. Despite his at times gruff demeanor, he was nothing but gentle and kind with her. She felt her cheeks heat once more as she remembered the strength of his arms around her, the sound of his heart as she rested her head upon his chest the night before.
“I hope ye aren’t blushing in embarrassment of me getting my arse handed to me,” Fjell said, still smiling as he came up to her.
“What? No, no, you were very impressive,” Marsilia answered, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “Lady Isabel was just teasing me a bit is all. It’s fine, really.”
“Ye sure?” Fjell asked, his smile tempering.
Marsilia felt the heat begin to return to her cheeks anew and she covered her face with her hands for a moment, taking a deep breath. When she lowered her hands, Fjell’s growing concern was replaced by an amused smile, his eyebrows raised.
“What was she teasing ye about?” he asked, a hint of a grin beginning to pull across his face.
“Nothing, it’s nothing,” she insisted, reaching up to toy with a lock of hair. “You seemed to enjoy your fights with Lord Ailbhe.”
Shaking his head at her poor attempt to change the subject, he reached out and tapped the underside of her chin with his knuckle again. “Fine, I’ll drop it,” he chuckled before glancing over his shoulder at the elf lord. “And aye. He’s a damned fine warrior. I could learn a lot from him.”
“It looked like he was already giving you some tips?” she asked. Realizing that she was still playing with her hair, she forced herself to fold her hands at her waist in a mimic of what she so often saw Lady Isabel do.
“Aye,” Fjell answered, returning his gaze to her. Taking in her suddenly stiff posture, he furrowed his brow. “Ye sure yer alright?”
Her cheeks began to flush again and Marsilia bit her lip. Maybe Lady Isabel was right. Maybe it would be better to just have everything out in the air between them, so she didn’t keep blushing like a fool.
“We’re ready when you are,” Eogain called from across the courtyard.
The white witch took a breath and let it out, smiling up at Fjell. “I’m fine,” she said. “Come on, it’s my turn for some training.”
Chapter 33
Fjell caught Marsilia’s shoulder as she began to move past him to join Eogain. She paused, looking back up at him, her cheeks still pink from whatever embarrassment she had suffered.
“Did ye get a chance to talk with them?” he asked quietly. “About apprenticeships and all that?”
“Oh, yes,” Marsilia answered, raising her hand to rest atop his as she smiled up at him. “Sorceress Eogain was very understanding and has invited me to come back to learn more from her in the future if I wish to. I hadn’t accidentally bound myself to anything
; she only meant to compliment me.”
“Good,” he said, squeezing her shoulder before glancing down at her hand atop his.
When she noticed his gaze, she jerked her hand away, blushing anew, and the dwarf’s heart skipped a beat. It couldn’t be that, could it? Had the Lady been teasing her about him? The little witch had already slipped free of his hand and was hurrying to join the three awaiting them atop horses, their two mountain goats saddled nearby.
Fjell watched her for a moment before following. After this was done, after her family and woods were safe, he would ask her. A small smile graced his face as he helped Marsilia into the saddle. Asking her permission to court her meant telling her everything; he would not ask her to enter any form of relationship with secrets between them. He climbed into his own saddle and fell in beside Ailbhe as the ladies led the way. Watching the sway of her blond hair, the glimpse of her smile as she turned her head to chat with Eogain, he realized that the thought of telling her everything was a relief waiting to happen.
“While she is lovely,” Ailbhe said quietly beside him, “I would suggest keeping an eye more to the woods. We are here to ensure their safety, after all.”
The dwarf cast a side-long glance at the elf lord only to find him wearing the faintest smile of amusement. Rubbing a hand over his mouth, Fjell turned his gaze to the woods around them and didn’t deign to answer.
* * *
They rode an hour into the woods, away from the Fields of Reversal and into the depths of the Autumn Forest. At first, they passed by scatterings of small homes, little villages, until they entered the true wilds of Autumn’s lands. Like the grounds around Lady Isabel’s keep, every tree remained in perpetual red and golden glory; wild autumn fruits grew in abundance and glimpses of winter squash ripening on the vine poked out from under leaves and brush.
“We will be going over two types of magic while we are here,” Eogain said, riding beside Marsilia as Isabel led the way. “The first will be continuing your abilities with summoning beings from the Spirit Realm, and the second will be testing how far you can tap into Fae magics.”
“Oh, um,” Marsilia faltered, fidgeting with Melya’s reigns. “Pa and I don’t really deal in bindings or the like…”
Eogain looked at her askance. “Did I say binding magic? No. There is far more to Fae magic than bindings; only the lowliest of wielders stoop to meddling in that unless there is a proper contract being forged. You have no need for such contracts. You have a need for power.”
“I…” Marsilia trailed off, frowning. Why had her pa always looked down on Fae magic? He was a Fae himself, if not an elf. Yet, he’d only ever warned her against using binding magic. Was this another thing he had been protecting her from? Would she find she knew some basics of it, as she had when Eogain began teaching her to summon beings from the Spirit Realm?
Why hadn’t Pa shown her how to put all of these pieces together before?
“You’re right,” the witch said with a nod. “I’m sorry if I offended; I don’t know what else Fae magic constitutes.”
“Everything from protection spells to countering magic, from Summer’s conjuring of greenery to Winter’s summoning of ice and snow, and to other things far more advanced,” the sorceress explained. She caught the frown tracing across Marsilia’s face and raised an eyebrow. “What is it?”
“I know how to conjure protection spells,” the witch answered. “Pa taught me; I just didn’t know it was Fae magic.”
“Interesting,” Eogain said. “We will have to see what you are able to coax forth.”
“The clearing ahead will serve our purposes nicely,” Lady Isabel said over her shoulder. “Ailbhe, will you please ensure the area is safe?”
“Of course, my heart,” he answered and guided his horse into a gallop, passing them in a shower of leaves.
They waited but a moment at the edge of the clearing before Ailbhe signaled the all clear. Lady Isabel entered the clearing first and guided her horse off to the side as the rest of their party followed. When everyone cleared the woods, she held her hands out to the sides.
A wind whipped up out of nowhere, tossing Marsilia’s hair across her face. When the witch managed to get her hair in hand, gripping it in a tail against her neck, her eyes widened in surprise. A wall of leaves surrounded the clearing, fluttering and blowing in a spiral. After a moment, the wind settled and the leaves floated back to the ground in a mound following the tree line.
“Lady Isabel has insulated this area,” Eogain explained, swinging out of her saddle. “It’s but a precaution, in case any magic goes errant. We wouldn’t want to disturb the balance of her grace’s lands.”
“So it’s like a warding,” Marsilia said, attempting to slide down from her own saddle.
“Indeed it is,” Isabel answered, approaching with her hands folded neatly at her waist. “I am no sorceress, but the Mantle bears some power with it, especially when I am within the bounds of my own lands.”
The mountain goats of the dwarves were far taller than the horses her companions rode, though. While she had managed to dismount herself once in desperation of a fight, she now felt she was about to fall from the saddle instead. A pair of strong hands grasped her waist and lifted her easily to the ground. She looked over her shoulder to find Fjell looking down at her with a hint of amusement. Before she could say anything to him, however, he turned and went to confer with Ailbhe.
“How strong is it? Can it be punctured? Degraded?” Marsilia asked, looking around at the autumnal pile of leaves.
“You can certainly try,” Isabel chuckled. “But perhaps we will save that for another day.”
“No, no,” the witch said, looking between the Lady and sorceress. “Is that something I can learn to do? If I could lock down an area against magic somehow…”
“I am afraid that may be a bit too complex to teach in one day,” Eogain said. “Though it is a clever idea, Lady Isabel was granted those abilities from Queen Mab and Queen Titania. Pulling off such a feat would be a strain for even me.”
“Oh,” Marsilia sighed, deflating for a moment before squaring her shoulders. “Right then. We work with what we have, yes?”
Eogain chuckled. “Yes. Let’s start with attempting to summon the spirits of this clearing.”
With a nod, Marsilia closed her eyes and focused upon the thin veil that separated the Fae Realm from the Spirit Realm. As in the gardens, she could feel the veil part as easily as pulling aside a curtain. She had done it so many times before, pulling upon that world to fuel her healing, to draw magic into the potions her pa had taught her to make.
But now she did not pull from behind the veil; instead, she called, pushed her will into the ephemeral world beyond. When Eogain had first instructed her on calling forth the beasts of the Spirit Realm the night before, she told Marsilia to demand they answer her call. And the witch had tried that for an hour to no avail. It wasn’t until she asked, beseeched those from beyond to aid her, that the butterflies had finally come forth.
Today she did not demand at all, but instead sent forth her intentions and asked. No answer came and she furrowed her brow, focusing harder upon her request.
“The more people around, the harder it will be to summon the beasts,” Eogain said. “Focus. You must be able to draw them to your aid even in the presence of the dark witch.”
Balling her skirts in her fists, Marsilia kept her eyes closed and focused harder, patiently asking, coaxing. In her mind's eye she saw the little rabbit warily approaching. It sniffed in the direction of the two warriors, ears up and alert. She called to it in her mind again, and it hopped a few feet closer.
Opening her eyes, Marsilia smiled down at the little spirit rabbit as it raised up on its hind legs in the autumn leaves, sniffing at her curiously. The witch crouched down, holding her hands out to the spirit. It hopped closer, then crouched, eyes darting and ears swiveling to those surrounding them.
“It’s alright, little one,” Marsilia said quietly
. “It’s alright.”
The ghostly rabbit looked to her again and became corporeal, hopping forward and into her hands. Standing, she cradled the spirit rabbit against her and looked over to Eogain with a wide smile.
“Very good,” Eogain said, smiling in return.
Returning her gaze to the rabbit, she scratched its cheek, her smile faltering. “I don’t understand how butterflies and rabbits are going to help in our coming battle though.”
“They won’t,” Isabel said dismissively. “But you can’t expect to summon something powerful enough to help you on your first try. You must build up to it.”
Frowning, Marsilia nodded and put the rabbit back on the ground. It hopped closer and leaned against her leg as she looked over at the sorceress.
“So then what’s next?”
“Next you will attempt to summon one of the spirits of the forest itself,” the sorceress said. “Spread yourself out to the woods beyond, part the veil and call one of them to you, but do not allow the rabbit to leave.”
Taking a deep breath and letting it out, the witch nodded and closed her eyes again, the spirit rabbit still pressed against her leg. As she pulled back the veil once again, she asked the rabbit to stay with her and once more set her will and intentions out into the Spirit Realm, into the woods. There was only a moment’s pause before she felt an answer - a sense of curiosity coming back to her. Opening her eyes, she took in a sharp breath.
A great stag stood before her, its antlers dripping with moss and autumn leaves, twice the height of the great mountain goats she and Fjell had ridden. Atop its head sat a raven, seeming but a tiny bird by comparison.
Eogain gasped, reaching over to grasp her arm. “Let it go,” she said quickly, quietly. “Do not try to bend it to your will; let it go.”
“I didn’t summon it,” Marsilia said, staring at the beast. Its eyes swirled like the stars in the heavens as it gazed calmly back at her in return. “I asked and it answered.”
The Blessing of Equinox Page 18