by Remi Black
“Only Saircuista’s death can remove it.” Frost dripped from her words.
“Or the death of the sorceress.”
The temperature rose.
“My knights cleave to you, Solsken. Perhaps their loss of the sun gives you an advantage I had not anticipated.”
“Humans have frailties. We are not purpose-driven Fae. We are not Crygy of the Wilding.”
“But you would serve me, for a season?”
“Is the bargain acceptable?” Orielle retorted, needing proof.
“I wish more.”
“I wish less. We both lose; we both gain.”
“So be it.” The Lady stepped to Grim’s curled body. “I will heal this Rho. You will rid this sorceress and her wolfen from my Wilding. You offered time with me, Not-Wizard. You will ride three hunts at my side. You will see how a Crygy keeps the wizard tenets.” Then she clapped her hands.
Blue light sparked where her hands had struck together. It shaped into a sliver, like the double-horned crescent moon. Then the center bulged, growing into the Womb Moon, fat with potential, dappled silver like the Moon that would oversee any Hunt through the Wilding.
Lady Skuld spun the gibbous orb. The light floated toward Grim and hovered over his body. She twisted her hand, much as Orielle had, up on the mountain, and the orb dropped onto his locked body. The light increased, blinding them. He screamed, the power unlocking his body, and the light streamed over him, cocooning him.
Then the Lady dropped her hand. The light poured into him and disappeared.
And Grim lay straight and painless on the sandy grit.
He scrambled to his feet. Blading his body, he blocked Orielle’s view of the Lady. “What have you done?”
“Aiwaz Solsken saves your life, Rhoghieri.”
“At what cost?”
“Not the cost you think. She bargained neither your life nor her own. Three moons she will ride with me. Will you ride beside her, Rho?”
“I will.”
She laughed, the high-pitched tinkle that set nerves on edge. “She said that she learned fighting from you. Will you help her rid my Wilding of this sorceress and her wyre?”
“Is that the bargain?” He fronted Orielle, and she couldn’t look away from his intense eyes. As soon as she nodded, he gave his assent to Lady Skuld.
“And when the sorceress defeats you and you are on the point of death, will you give me your life? Just as she swore?”
“If she goes to you, then I go as well.”
“Such devotion. May you inspire my own knights, Rho.”
Lightning flashed. Thunder rumbled. Rain poured from the sky.
And Lady Skuld and Volk had vanished from the beach.
~ 17 ~
“You should not have bargained with Lady Bone.”
She brushed a clot of sand from his sleeve as she hid from his searching gaze. “I weighed my choices. I considered what was most important to me.” There, she’d dared her own admission, just as he had with Lady Skuld.
He didn’t respond, turning away, and she deflated. He walked away, kicking stones on the shore. She hurried to catch up.
The big chestnut found them as they scaled the mountain, coming out of the trees. It must have waited in safety while they fought wyre and dealt a hard bargain with the Lady.
The ride to the Haven passed without trouble. On the mountain’s other side, they found another creek, clear and twisty. They followed the creek upstream and into a narrow gorge where the water roiled. The mountains stepped back, and the gorge opened to a wide valley, forested at its entrance, but Orielle caught a glimpse of cleared pasture before the trail dropped to run beside the slower waters.
A man leaped down from a tree and landed in their path. Expecting wyre, she jerked Wind to her, then Grim’s hand touched hers. He gave a shake of his head. So she studied the man who blocked their way.
He had Grim’s dark hair and narrow features, but his eyes were muddy brown. He wore leathers but a green shirt and no mail. He carried a stave rather than a bladed weapon.
“Son of Holt,” he greeted Grim. “Two years it’s been.”
“Son of Sourrect.” Grim touched his forehead, a brief salute that the other returned. “Two years, three months, odd days.”
The man grinned. “There’ll be some not happy to see you.”
Leaned against Grim’s back, she expected he would tense. Instead, he chuckled. Grim, laughing!
“All to the good. Shake them up, change their minds.”
The sentinel gave that curious lifted chin of agreement which she’d seen from Grim more than once. “And who is this golden lady?”
“Lady Galfrons, from the Enclave, come to parley with the Elder.”
“Enclave.” The word wiped away the welcome. The man glanced into the trees. She saw movement. No one revealed themselves, but she knew other sentinels watched, listened, waited, keeping the guard .
“Does Tobit still serve as Elder? I heard of a challenge.”
“Four challenges, all defeated. This one’s not the first to come from the Enclave,” which was news to Orielle. “He’ll give her a hearing. She’s pretty enough.”
“Like that, is it?”
Grim had lost his humor. She had tired of people focusing only on her appearance, including the wyre with his pretty wizard. “The Elder should listen to me because I’m from the Enclave and for no other reason.”
The sentinel’s eyebrows lifted. He gave a whistle. “Got a mind of her own, don’t she?”
Disgusted with the assumptions, she dug her nails into Grim’s side. The leather prevented damage, but since he’d shed his mail, he felt the prick of her anger. He shifted a little. “We had trouble with a wyre pack. Killed seven. The six will be on the prowl.”
He gave an appreciative whistle. “Precautions?”
“The usual.”
The man stepped aside so Ruddy could carry them on. “We’ll double our sentries. On you go.”
Grim saluted.
The man’s gaze bored into her back long after they passed. “What was that about?”
“Not here.” The upward tilt of his head warned that others lurked in the trees.
“People can eavesdrop on rooms,” she warned him.
“You don’t know a Shield spell? I do if you can’t.”
The Shield, dropped over the conversation, would prevent any spy from reporting—unless the spy could read lips. She’d heard of spies who had that knack. The spell was tricksy but not too difficult, not like the linked wards that guarded a camp. A novice learned it then learned to expand it. She shifted behind him. He wanted her to use magic, then. He wanted others to know. Since she’d already admitted to multiple problems with her training, she confessed, “As long as it’s just a few of us and not a big room.”
“A Shield for two will work.”
She leaned her head against his shoulder blade and wished this day were ended. She felt bone-deep tired, and diplomacy was before her, requiring as much caution as she’d used with the Lady. “I didn’t know the Rho could work spells.”
“The Rho don’t. A Fae taught me.”
“Using the elements?”
“Yes. Quiet now.”
They emerged from forest into tilled soil. On the right, the harvested fields had thick stubble with turned soil at a distance. Hayricks dotted the opposing fields.
The cleared land revealed the waves and ripples of the surrounding mountains, earth formed like frozen water. Horses ran alongside a pole fence. Workers began to dot the fields, toiling to finish the harvest. A wagon rattled ahead of them on the straight road. Over Grim’s shoulder she was smoke pillars, then their chimneys, and then a palisade surrounding the smoke and chimneys. At the corners and on either side of an open gate were towers, manned by archers.
The Haven looked like an armed camp. They trailed the wagon heading for the gate.
“The gate shuts at dusk. It doesn’t open, for anyone, until the Elder gives the word. Don’t be
caught outside.”
“Gobbers and the like?”
“Gobbers. The season before I left, a wyre pack besieged us. No danger at the moment.”
“How do you know?”
“No flags.”
As they rode into the village, she eyed the towers and the men watching from the parapet along the palisade.
People stared. Many lifted a hand in greeting, and Grim returned each one. Children ran behind his horse until a different game distracted them. The men who followed didn’t turn aside.
The wagon turned onto a side lane. Grim guided Ruddy on, to an open square with a well. He swung a leg over the horse’s neck and jumped down then reached up to help her dismount.
Three men came forward, calling the name Holtson, slapping his back, giving pats to Ruddy, and staring at her. Grim unburdened the horse by handing her the saddlebags and blanket rolls.
A tall man parted the encircling crowd. A vagrant wind tugged at his grizzled hair, curling over his square head.
One of the men talking with Grim saw the tall man. He sobered. “Grim.”
And her Grim answered to the name. No wonder he’d been surprised when she used it. If ever a name suited a personality—.
He swung around to meet the tall man who stood a half-head bigger and broader of girth. The man’s wide grin didn’t make up for his beady eyes, the color of a clear sky. And Grim didn’t smile his welcome.
“Grim, son of Holt. You return. Do you come to face justice?”
“Justice? Are you saying I committed a crime? What crime, Tobit?”
“You left without permission, before we cleared the forest of wyre. You endangered the Haven.”
The three men had fallen behind Grim, leaving Orielle beside him. She swung the packs off her shoulder and to the ground.
“We killed all thirteen of that pack. Did you suffer more attacks after I left? Brok, did you?”
The man who had first greeted him answered. “No, no more attacks.”
“Luck that was.” Hands on hip made Tobit looked larger than he was. “You had no right to leave.”
“I had permission. My father granted it.”
“Your father was dead, with a question of the cause of his death never answered. You did not swear loyalty to the next elder, to me. I gave no permission.”
“So, it’s a crime now to leave the Haven.”
“It’s a crime to leave the Haven in danger and a greater crime to refuse to answer questions about a death. You can disobey an Elder, but you will face consequences for it.”
“I heard no edict rescinding my permission to leave. My plans were set for six weeks.”
“You quibble. Justice still needs serving.”
“Forget the crime,” someone in the crowd called, and a murmur of agreement rippled around the square.
But the tall man gave a signal and three men came around him and headed for Grim. “You going to give us a battle?”
“Will I get a hearing?”
“We have justice here. I will hear your complaint, then you will hear mine.”
Fair enough.” Grim turned to Orielle. “Stick with Brok. You should have nothing to fear, but Brok will see you have a meal and a bed for the night.”
“But you—.”
“Brok will explain.” Then he turned and met the three men.
She watched Grim led away. When she glared at Tobit, he grinned. “Now, what about you pretty lady?”
. ~ . ~ . ~ .
The adventures of Orielle and Grim continue in To Charm the Air.
Calendar and Times
Year 635
11-Month Year
The months are 32 days, with each week having eight days.
Deep Winter
Winter’s End
First Growth > Vernal Equinox on the 24th, which is Knight’s Night (day 88 of the year)
Spring
Blooming
Best Summer > Summer Solstice on the 16th, which is Lady’s Night (the so-called Lady’s Day) (day 176 of the year)
High Summer
Harvest
Leaf-Turn > Brumal Equinox on the 8th, which is Knave’s Night (day 264 of the year)
Leaf Gone
First Winter > Winter Solstice on the 32nd (day 352 of the year, last day of the year)
8 Days in a Week / 8 Moon Phases through a Single Month
Sunnes (sun)
Sturmen (storm)
Boltka (kobolt)
Orthe (earth)
Luftein (air)
Vattein (water)
Brandt (fire)
Moones (moon)
1
2
3
4 Worm Moon
5
6
7
8 Knave Moon (1st qtr.)
9
10
11
12 Horn Moon
13
14
15 Maiden’s Night
16 Lady’s Moon (full moon)
17 Crone’s Night
18
19
20 Womb Moon
21
22
23
24 Knight’s Moon (last qtr.)
25
26
27
28 Saber Moon
29
30
31
32 Dragon Moon (new moon)
22 Hours in each Day
Daggy (dawn) is the 5th Bell
Sunring (sunrise) is the 6th Bell
Middag (midday) is the 11th Bell
Fyraften (sunset, end of day) is the 15th Bell
Kvaeld is evening (16th Bell)
Mulm is full dark (17th Bell)
Tus-morke (after full dark, “lights out” for most) (18th Bell)
Sidste is the last bell (22nd Bell), equivalent to midnight
1st Bell that coincides to 1 a.m. is Forst
The Enclave series
complete novels with no cliff-hangers
Available on Amazon
Weave a Wizardry Web
Least becomes great. Greatest becomes least. Two wizards travel sharp-bladed roads in Weave a Wizardry Web.
“Wizard against sorcerer. Fae against dragon. Wyre against Rhoghieri.” As children in the Wizard Enclave, Camisse and her niece Alstera recited that catechism daily. Yet the war against sorcery seems far from the Enclave, and the current leaders have forgotten that childhood chant.
Commander of an outpost, Camisse defends the border against the sorcerers and wyre of Frost Clime. A poor adept of Air and Water, she entered the military to serve to the Wizard Enclave. Recalled by her mother the ArchClans, Camisse argues for the Enclave’s greater alliance with Faeron.
With the outsider Pearroc Seale, she discovers that the shape-shifting wyre have entered the Enclave and are killing wizards. And no one in the ArchClans’ court believes her.
Pearroc is a protégé of her mother’s enemy. Can she trust him with her powers and her heart? Can she believe anything he says when she discovers he is a masked Fae?
Granddaughter of the ArchClans, Alstera is the greatest Enclave wizard. With sorcerers and wyre winning battles against the Enclave, she searches for a way to increase wizardry. Her search leads to a forbidden spell called the Nexus, which links wielders to a single wizard. The Nexus is taboo because unscrupulous wizards could enslave those with lesser power.
The outsider Sanglier tempts her to learn his linking spell. In his linkage, each one shares, each one wields. Yet he lies, for his spells hide his wyre pack from the wizards. And he tricks Alstera into using blood spells as well as practicing the forbidden linkage.
When Alstera’s friend Nevil is spell-shackled for using the Nexus, he commits suicide. Risking the same punishment, she continues investigating Sanglier’s spell.
Then the wyre pack goes hunting for Camisse and Pearroc. And Alstera practices the sharing linkage one time too many.
Will they survive the sharp blades on their chosen roads?
> Dream a Deadly Dream
Assassination. A fugitive comtesse. A lethal sleep-spell. Wyre and wraiths. Wizardry against sorcery. And regicide.
In Dream a Deadly Dream, a sorcerous plot to kill the king weaves together past and present, dream and reality, to create a nightmare that can kill.
For three years Cherai, the comtesse Muirée, has hidden from the conspirators who assassinated her father. She unknowingly holds the key to the conspirators who want to seize Vaermonde’s throne, which they failed to do when they killed her father too quickly. Now , a sorcerer weaves a lethal sleep-snare to entrap her. These poisoned nightmares will compel Cherai to turn herself over to her father’s murderers.
Only a chance-met wizard can free her from the sorcerous sleep-spell.
The exiled wizard Alstera wandered into Vaermonde, seeking an opportunity to rid herself of the bindings on her power. When she encounters Cherai, she seizes the opportunity to rid herself of a binding on her power by breaking the sorcerer’s sleep-spell.
Yet the sleep-spell is not a simple one: it is a powerful sleep-snare, designed to kill once the conspirators have the document that Cherai’s father hid. Alstera must use forbidden blood-magic—another crime against wizardry—to slip her powers through the binding sigils tattooed on her wrists.
After capture and escape from the king’s regiment and the betrayal by a friend who is spying secretly for an old enemy of Cherai’s father, the two women flee cross-country, heading for the Muirée estate. There they hope to find the reason for the assassination and the identity of the conspirators who plan to kill the king. Yet the poisoned nightmares intensify. The sorcerer sends a wraith and a wyre to capture Cherai. And betrayal closes the net.
Will the poisoned nightmares kill Cherai? Can Alstera free her from that sorcerous web before the conspirators kill the king? Threats come from both enemies and friends, from steely blades and magickal spells. Will Cherai be caught by the conspirators? With her powers bound, protected only by blood-magic, can Alstera defeat the sorcerer? Or will he kill Cherai with his sleep-snare?
Sing a Graveyard Song
The icy mountains hold danger and death but not in the way that the wizard Alstera expects in Sing a Graveyard Song, a fantasy novel set in an alternate Renaissance World. Suspicious villagers, a resentful woman wielding sorcery, and a wizard intent on returning her to face justice are nothing compared to a blood-drinking monster.