Old Magic

by Marianne Curley

  He heads for the door, but turns just before it with an afterthought. ‘Jarrod must be gone by morning. Right now I am going to pluck my sweet little herb out of the ground by its roots and extract the oil I need that way to finish this damn curse. This close to winter the strength of its poison will be sufficient, and will make no difference to the sweet taste of my wine.’

  ‘You would break your promise?’

  He laughs coarsely. ‘My Lady, did you really think I would keep it?’

  ‘But … you said … if I stayed – ’

  ‘I lied.’

  ‘Why? I lived up to my end of the bargain. I came back to you!’

  ‘And I gave you what you wanted – freedom for your lover to return from wherever he came. It’s your fault he didn’t leave. You obviously didn’t try hard enough to convince him.’

  Nausea hits me. I sway and grab the bedpost nearby. ‘But the curse, you promised to destroy it. It was part of the deal!’

  ‘If I hadn’t promised, would you still have chosen me?’

  This does not require an answer. He knows I would never have, and this explains the reason for his lies. He tricked me. Just like he thinks Eloise had been tricked into choosing Lionel instead of him all those years back. And Jarrod will probably still die, and I’m trapped in this cold and draughty hell-hole with a dangerous lunatic for the rest of my life. It’s all been for nothing. The curse will still go ahead. And there is no way Jarrod will be gone by sunrise. The thought hits me that I will never see Jillian again.

  I have to try something; panic threatens to suffocate my lungs. How can this have happened? I watch, my soul filled with black, passion-fuelled hatred, as Rhauk moves towards the door. ‘If you go ahead with the curse – breaking your promise to me – I will jump out of this window, taking my chances with the cliffs below.’

  This seizes Rhauk’s attention. His eyebrows lift, black eyes shift to the only window in the room, the one that overlooks the cliff, contemplating, assessing the weight of my threat. Would I really go through with it? When he turns back, he searches for my eyes, and locks with them. He is too fast, the effect hypnotic. ‘In that case, my Lady, you leave me no choice but to control your mind sooner rather than later.’

  ‘What?’

  He doesn’t bother to explain. Immediately I feel a sharp stab of energy. He moves closer and the energy that holds me suddenly changes, twists, piercing like a dagger straight into my mind. It is so intense it hurts, and takes all my concentration to stop it from penetrating my brain so deeply I feel sure it will cause permanent brain damage.

  I try to break free, but all attempts prove useless. My legs give out on me, but the power of Rhauk’s punishment holds me frozen. The energy grows and electricity jolts through my body in shuddering waves.

  I know the moment I start to lose it. Control, the remaining trickle I cling to, finally disappears. I begin to plead, in my mind, through my mind. I don’t know if he hears me, or whether it incites him more, but I understand that if he doesn’t release me now, my mind will never be the same, but altered, damaged. Forever.

  I fall to the floor in a heap, the connection finally severed. I don’t know why he let go, except perhaps he doesn’t want me that way – brain-dead. Whatever his reasons, I’m too drained to think at this moment.

  I do hear him though, as I start to lose my grip on consciousness. ‘You will never escape me, Lady Katherine. That was just a sample of what is to come for you. After I’m done with your lover, and after I’ve delivered the gift of wine to my traitorous brother, I will attend to your training. And you will be mine – completely.’

  I think he is going to leave, but at the door he pauses. ‘It was something I wanted for Eloise, but her mind wasn’t as strong as yours.’ He turns back for one last look. ‘By the time I’ve finished with you, my Lady, you will appreciate the beauty of Blacklands, and enjoy being my Queen.’

  Jarrod

  I’m aware of the exact moment my time runs out. Rhauk does something to Kate. Power, a surge of energy so strong I feel it in my own head, like someone is twisting a corkscrew into my skull. I wonder, fleetingly, if she will live through it. Her pulse is slow, so slow. But she lives. For now, that’s all I have.

  So I am forced out of training and into a challenge. Tomorrow, at dawn, I will meet Rhauk in battle.

  ‘Jarrod, what’s wrong?’

  Richard’s voice is concerned. He breaks through my image of Kate near death. I explain what I feel. ‘It is time, my Lord.’

  His eyes grow in alarm. I hear his mind thoughts, reading his doubts. We both know I’ve trained hard, and with his and Malcolm’s help and that of the other knights, and of course the maid, Morgana, I can do incredible things now. Things I never thought possible. But still, Richard wonders if I’m strong enough to match Rhauk. Strong enough to better Rhauk.

  I throw my arm around his shoulder. ‘I had better be, my uncle,’ I say, surprising him that I accurately read his thoughts. ‘Rhauk will not give me a second chance.’

  Kate

  I come to while still on the floor. Slowly I drag myself to the bed and sit, my head heavy in my hands, as if it’s filled with lead. I try to recall what happened and how I ended up in this state, but I hear distant voices. The sound is so unusual it has my instant attention. In all the time I’ve spent at Blacklands, never once have I heard Rhauk in conversation with anyone except his crow. But this is different. There are two distinct voices, both male, one definitely Rhauk’s. The other … I can’t place, yet it sounds vaguely familiar.

  I stumble to the door. It’s not locked. There’s no point, no one can leave or enter Blacklands without an invitation. It’s magically enchanted. The gates operate at his command. Only the birds are free to fly in and out.

  Thank God my head starts to clear. It gives me the strength I need to find out who is Rhauk’s visitor. Perhaps it is someone who can help me escape. This thought triggers an adrenalin surge. I walk the corridors with bare feet, tracing the sounds of conversation.

  I find them eventually in the Refectory, which used to be the room where the nuns did their learning. It still has several of the original chairs and desks. I stay just outside the slightly open door, my heart galloping so intensely, I’m sure I’m on the verge of swallowing it.

  This close at least, I can make out their words. At first I think, at last, here’s the help I need, if only to get a warning to Jarrod. The other voice is Malcolm’s – Lord Richard’s son.

  It only occurs to me when I hear them laughing, that something is terribly wrong with this scene. They sound on too good terms; and how did Malcolm get into Blacklands? By Rhauk’s invitation? Or did Malcolm request this meeting? Knowing Rhauk, anything Malcolm requests will carry an expensive price tag.

  I listen, cautious not to send out a mind probe as Rhauk would know instantly where I am.

  ‘So,’ Rhauk’s velvety voice echoes through the hollow rooms. ‘Your information is interesting in the least. Our mutual acquaintance has come far these past weeks. Of course, not nearly far enough to better me.’

  ‘Of course not.’

  There is an audible pause, then Rhauk again, ‘Do we have the same goal in mind?’

  Unhesitatingly, Malcolm replies, ‘You know I treasure Thorntyne Keep as much as you do Blacklands.’

  Surely Malcolm isn’t that naive. Rhauk wants Thorntyne Keep as well as Blacklands, if only to satisfy his need for revenge.

  ‘Your information shall not go unrewarded,’ says Rhauk.

  ‘I’m just glad I can be of service. The sooner this scoundrel is dispensed with, the better we’ll all be. But …’ There is a pregnant pause. I think my heart stops. ‘If you have a small reward in mind … Perhaps an evening with the sweet Lady? She still keeps you company I assume.’

  I fall back as if I’ve been physically pushed. My God! Malcolm means me! Rhauk laughs, his voice dripping with sarcasm. ‘Oh yes, she makes intriguing company. And, my friend, don’t fear, for your rewa
rd shall be very sweet indeed.’

  I can guess what this means. As soon as this business with Jarrod is over, Rhauk will probably murder Malcolm, whom he no doubt sees as another threat to securing his inheritance. Can’t Malcolm see this? Obviously his fear over Jarrod claiming his inheritance blocks his mind to other dangers. The man isn’t only a traitor, feeding Rhauk inside information about Jarrod’s emerging powers, no doubt informing Rhauk of Jarrod’s strengths and weaknesses; but Malcolm is also a fool. He’ll most likely die for his mistakes.

  Well, it will be a just death.

  The meeting breaks up, and I stumble in a mad panic to get out of sight. I don’t go back to my room though. I can’t. Somehow I just have to warn Jarrod that he has a traitor in his camp. A man that cannot be trusted. So I decide to give it one more try. Escape. I find my way to the stables. Ebony Prince neighs restlessly in his stall, several mares snigger as I pass their stalls. But I have to take this risk. The horses are the only things I haven’t already tried. I’ve never had an opportunity like the one that’s about to present itself. And Ebony Prince took me once to Thorntyne Keep, perhaps if I can convince him, he will again. I’m counting on a lot going my way. It all hinges on the gates. They won’t open without Rhauk’s request. But they’re about to when Malcolm leaves.

  I hear noises behind me and my body jerks. It’s Malcolm. And he’s on his own. I see the opportunity in my mind. Quickly I slide into Ebony Prince’s stall, climb on to his bare back, crooning sweet calming words into his ear, probing his mind gently to keep his thoughts disorganised. I have never tried to mind probe an animal, it’s a strange experience. At least he lets me climb on, shaking his head in an oddly bewildered way, and I sense my probe is working.

  I hear the gates swing on their hinges. Without a second thought for the way I’m straddling the horse, or how my skirts have ridden halfway up my bare thighs, I dig my knees into Ebony Prince’s thickly muscled stomach. He bolts through the outer stable doors, and with a little further probing, heads straight for the open gates.

  Malcolm hears the pounding hooves and jumps out of the way. What I don’t count on though is Malcolm’s quick recovery. He is, I realise a short distance out of Blacklands, a trained knight. He jumps on to his own waiting horse and starts chasing me through the woods.

  Low branches, sharp twigs, overgrown berry bushes catch at my clothing, my hair, my arms. I ride low to the horse’s back, my arms tight around his thick neck, urging it to go faster and faster. The hooves pounding behind me grow too close for comfort. Malcolm is catching up fast.

  Even though it is still daylight I find it more and more difficult to see where I’m going. I try to convince Ebony Prince to head in the direction of Thorntyne Keep, but the woods are thick around me, and I can’t tell if my probe is working any more.

  Malcolm is so close now, I can feel his horse’s grunts near my back.

  I see the fallen tree only seconds before Ebony Prince leaps. Having nothing but the horse’s neck to cling to, I’m not surprised to find myself flying through the air. I land on my back in a small patch of green meadow.

  Momentarily stunned, all I can do is watch as Malcolm rides his horse right up to my face. ‘Well, well, such an interesting riding style you have, my Lady.’

  Not ready to accept defeat, I struggle quickly on to all fours, with the intention of making a run for it. But Malcolm is with me in a flash, his superior knight’s training undoubtedly the reason his reflexes are so sharp. He drags me back, tossing me to the grass. I land on my rear, looking up at him.

  ‘He’s going to kill you too!’ I scream at him, hoping to make him see the reality here.

  ‘Don’t worry about me, Lady Katherine. I know what I’m doing.’

  ‘No, you don’t know him like I do. He lies, he makes promises he has no intention of keeping. He’s using you just as he used me. He tricked me into staying with him, and now he’s tricking you. Only when he has complete control of Thorntyne Keep will his lust for revenge be satisfied.’ I lunge for breath. ‘He has no reward in mind for you, Malcolm, except your own death. And in a way that would be a reward. Far better dead than spend the rest of your life as Rhauk’s mind slave. Believe me.’

  He stares at me, his green eyes narrow, thinking. An awkward silence stretches between us, then Malcolm glances quickly over his shoulders. With his attention back to me he reaches out a hand to help me up. I feel a fleeting moment of hope, and put my hand in his.

  ‘You found her. Good work!’

  Oh, no. It’s Rhauk, riding one of the mares from his stable. This one an elegant grey. He’s even taken the time to saddle her. His arrogance has me seething.

  Malcolm yanks me up harder than is warranted, twisting my hand behind my back. I force myself not to cry out. Just as suddenly he pushes me towards Rhauk. I fall against the grey mare who bucks in protest. ‘Irons, I think Rhauk, to keep this wench inside your castle walls.’

  Rhauk leans down and drags me up into the saddle in front of him. The feel of him at my back has bile jumping into my throat.

  Rhauk nods at Malcolm, whistles to Ebony Prince, who trots faithfully, looking a bit disoriented, beside us. Then we are riding back to Blacklands. I swing my head around for one more look. Malcolm hasn’t moved. He just stands there staring, the strangest expression on his face.

  Strange that is, for a traitor.

  Kate

  The challenge is delivered by a white dove just before sunset. I’m with Rhauk in the tower, my hands shackled together with irons as Malcolm suggested, watching with a sickening dread, as Rhauk finishes his cursed wine. He searched out the final ingredient, a winter-flowering herb, and in his laboratory extracted the oil he needed from the herb’s own roots. As he blends this oil into the wine, his facial expression is one of complacency. It’s as he glances across at me with a sickening, self-satisfied grin, that the white dove makes itself known.

  It has Rhauk’s attention straight away. ‘What is this?’

  We both stare at it while it hovers over a window ledge, looking reluctant to land. The crow, which is sitting on his usual perch, squawks at it, attempting to chase it away; but Rhauk holds up his hand and the crow falls into a silent sulk.

  Finally the dove lands on the window ledge. Rhauk picks it up in one hand and examines it. There’s a message attached to one of its legs. Rhauk takes the tiny piece of parchment and drops the bird. It flaps its wings, losing a couple of feathers, regains its balance, and flies away.

  I watch Rhauk’s eyes as he reads the parchment. They widen with surprise, which he covers quickly with boyish excitement. Not once does he show fear. Why should he, now that he has Malcolm to watch his back? His eyes find mine. ‘The fool boy has dared to challenge me.’

  Dread and nausea hit me full on. Is this really happening? How can Jarrod possibly beat this maniac? Jarrod is just a gawky, clumsy kid, who can’t see properly without his glasses. I wonder who helped him write the challenge. I doubt Jarrod’s eyes would have managed the tiny script. And even if he has trained these past weeks, Rhauk’s powers are as natural to him as breathing. What chance can Jarrod have? If only the odds were fairer … If only I could be there to help him … Maybe, our talents combined … Maybe, if we caught Rhauk in an unguarded moment …

  Rhauk interrupts my thoughts. ‘He requests a duel.’

  ‘Duel?’

  ‘By sword, on neutral ground.’

  This is terrible news. Swords are heavy, it takes years of training to be able to handle one with any form of skill.

  ‘And since Jarrod named the weapon, I get to choose the ground.’ He glances outside thoughtfully. ‘Minneret Cliffs, I think.’

  My eyes bulge at this. Minneret Cliffs is a dangerous stretch of coastline, almost the exact centre between the two peaks – Blacklands and Thorntyne. There are no tumbling sand dunes, only incredible sheer white cliffs.

  ‘Tomorrow’s dawn.’

  ‘No,’ I exclaim. ‘This can’t happen.’

&nb
sp; ‘Ah, but it is, my pretty.’

  Pleading, I decide, is the one thing I haven’t already tried. ‘Please, Rhauk, think this through. You have the things you want. Let Jarrod go unharmed.’

  His lips twitch, watching me. ‘Yes, I do have you, and the curse. But it’s not my fault that boy-man has no foresight. Obviously he can’t see his own death looming in the coming dawn. I shall make it a vivid reality.’

  ‘I want to be there.’

  ‘Of course you do. I wouldn’t have it any other way.’ His eyes narrow, assessing me. ‘But, I will have to do something to stop you from interfering.’

  ‘Noooo!’ God, he’s one step ahead of me every time. How can anyone beat this logic?

  I watch, sickeningly, as Rhauk excitedly starts gathering bits and pieces from around his lab. A herb, a vial of blue liquid, a mix of powders.

  My head swivels from side to side. Grinning, he comes at me with a frothing liquid mixture. It’s a drug, of that I’m sure.

  ‘Something to drain your energies, it won’t taste too bad.’

  ‘No, I won’t – ’

  ‘You only need a few drops.’ He grabs my chin with his free hand, gripping it with the force of a steel vice, his grin disappearing.

  ‘No!’ I scream, my hands useless and heavy in the chains. Quickly, I shut my mouth, adamant that not one drop of the drugged mixture will so much as touch my lips.

  But I’m not prepared for Rhauk’s tactics. He removes his hand from my chin, forms a fist, and punches me just below my ribs. My mouth flies open in exclamation as I struggle for air – shock and pain startling me. He throws the vile mixture into my mouth. It chokes me, burns all the way. I lurch forward at the blow to my stomach, doubling over with pain; and spit as much of the liquid out as I can.

  Rhauk moves away, satisfied, and begins stirring the cursed wine. ‘After the challenge, I will begin bottling. A few more days, and Richard will have the King’s precious gift.’