Twin Soul Series Omnibus 2: Books 6-10

by McCaffrey-Winner

  “Five would be better,” Ford said. “If anything happens to you, it would be good to give Nestor some safety.”

  “Five, if we can make them,” Wymarc agreed. She waved a hand toward the tables. “But we’re wasting our time dawdling.”

  Annabelle looked at the others. “Karol needs me —”

  “Who?” Wymarc demanded.

  “She means mage Reedis,” Ford said drolly. He winked at Annabelle. “Apparently, she’s managed to cajole from him his much-loathed first name.”

  “Whatever,” Wymarc said with an irritated shrug. She pointed toward the door, motioning for Annabelle to leave. “Just let them know that we’ll need help.”

  “We’ll come as soon as we can,” Annabelle promised as she rushed out of the room.

  Ford rummaged through one of the cabinets just to the right of the fabric rolls and pulled out a set of small knives. “First, we should pick the seams to separate one of these sections for a pattern,” he said, gesturing toward the crumpled balloon.

  “Enough talk,” Wymarc said, gesturing for a pair of scissors. “You’re slowing us down.”

  Ford gave her an irritated look and shook his head, pulling up the dead balloon and deftly picking apart seams.

  When he’d finished separating a section, Krea Wymarc took it from his hands with an irritated noise and placed it over a piece of folded fabric. She used a stick of charcoal to make a quick outline and said to Hana, “If you’re able to cut through the two layers, we’ll get it done quicker.”

  In short order they had eight pieces cut and ready for sewing.

  “You’re best at that, I’m sure,” Wymarc said to Ford. “Can you start stitching while Hana and I continue with the sections?”

  Ford wiped the sweat from his brow and nodded, aligning the seams of the two pieces he’d just cut and started sewing from the top half to the bottom. When he’d completed joining those two sections, he found a third and carefully joined it to the free half of one of the originals —

  “How about you make pairs and we’ll handle joining them,” Wymarc’s voice broke through his concentration.

  “Better, let’s have you make more pairs and then we’ll put Hana to make halves by sewing the two pairs together,” Ford countered.

  “And then?”

  “When we’re done with that we’ll join the halves,” Ford replied.

  “Sounds efficient,” Wymarc said approvingly.

  “You learn things aboard ships,” Ford allowed.

  “So leave off with this and get started on pairing,” Wymarc told him with a small smile.

  #

  “I’m not sure they’ll be able to finish the balloons in time,” Annabelle reported as she re-entered the long study to which the mage had brought them earlier.

  “I’m not sure we’ll be able to do the spells needed,” Angus said with a nod toward Reedis who sat in a chair, eyes closed, appearing to be sleeping deeply.

  “Don’t touch him!” Annabelle said, moving to stand between the mage and the smith. “He’s conjuring, can’t you feel it?”

  Angus started to shake his head and stopped, eyes narrowing. “Does it feel like a buzzing in my eyes?”

  Annabelle smiled. “To you, perhaps,” she said. Seeing his chagrin, she added soothingly, “Magic feels different to everyone. And it changes over time.”

  She motioned Angus to take a chair, moving toward one herself. “Just close your eyes, breathe, and listen.”

  Angus shot her a worried look but she waved his worries aside with a finger and firm nod. Reluctantly, Angus did as she said.

  “The trouble,” Reedis’ voice came out in a thin, thready squeak, “with working with others is that they always talk.”

  “Sorry,” Angus said, opening his eyes to glance at the mage. Annabelle shook her head at him, made a shushing gesture with her finger to her lips, and closed her eyes suggestively.

  “Every spell is different for everyone,” Reedis said. When Angus opened his eyes again, the mage glared at him and with a resigned sigh, closed his eyes once more. “The first spell I used on the balloons was a heat and expansion spell.” He paused a moment, letting his words sink in. Angus could hear the mage’s clothes rustle and guessed that he was gesturing. “I take my hands, pressed together and pull them apart quickly, imagining heat and void in the air of the balloon.”

  Angus’ brows creased as he tried to imagine that. He moved his hands —

  “Don’t do anything!” Reedis said warningly. “Annabelle, you know what to do.”

  “It’s different for me,” she said. “You want to use the air and fire, don’t you?”

  “Very good,” Reedis said, with a smile in his voice. “Fire and anything, really. I could do something similar with water —”

  “To make steam,” Angus exclaimed.

  “Silence, please,” Reedis said but he sounded pleased with the smith’s observation. “And I can use earth, but it is much more difficult to manage.”

  “And you can’t make a balloon with it,” Annabelle murmured.

  “You can be quiet, too, I believe,” Reedis suggested.

  Angus could hear Annabelle’s clothes rustle as she waved an apology.

  When he seemed satisfied at their silence, the mage continued, “That pocket of thin, warm air, wants to reach its own level in the air above it and so the air rises,” he paused a moment to let them reflect on his words. “If that air is surrounded by something or even contained in something, it will strain against the extra weight. If it strains hard enough, it will lift the weight with it.” He paused again and moved in his chair, Angus could tell by the sounds of the upholstery. “You may now open your eyes and observe.” He turned to Angus. “In your case, observe closely.”

  “Why thank you,” Annabelle said, lowering her eyelashes in a flattered look.

  “This —” Reedis held up a small piece of cloth. Its ends were tied together in a lump. “Inside this knot there’s a small rock.” He passed it to Angus to feel, then grabbed it back and passed it to Annabelle for her inspection. She returned it with a frown. Reedis smiled at her. “Observe.” He threw the bundle up. The rock pulled it down but the cloth billowed and the bundle fell slowly through the air.

  “I’ve seen those!” Angus said in surprise, glancing to Annabelle and then Reedis. “We used to make them as kids and use them to —”

  “To what?” Reedis asked testily.

  “To distract passersby,” Angus said in a small voice.

  “To pick their pockets,” Annabelle guessed. She caught Reedis’ look and told him, “Angus was found by Ibb.”

  “And brought to Mr. Zebala to apprentice,” Angus said.

  “I’ve used the trick much the same way myself,” Reedis admitted with an amiable nod to the apprentice. “Sometimes one must supplement one’s income.”

  Annabelle snorted derisively.

  “It was while I was attempting just such a subterfuge,” Reedis said with a nod toward Angus, “that I discovered I could do this.” He threw the bundle up again and, as it started its descent, he waved a hand and muttered a spell. The cloth seemed to bulge a moment and then bundle stopped — suspended in mid-air.

  The others gasped.

  Reedis beamed at their reaction before waving his hands once more and saying, “And this.”

  Nothing seemed to change for a moment and then, slowly, the bundle started to rise above them. Reedis smiled at their reaction and continued his incantation until the bundle touched the ceiling.

  Then, still smiling, he waved his index finger toward the bundle and, with the motion of his finger, slowly lowered it and raised it again.

  “That requires some practice,” he allowed as he sent the bundle back to the ceiling.

  “And that’s our spell, isn’t it?” Annabelle said thoughtfully.

/>   “Except that we’ll need to tie the spell to words,” Reedis told her. “That way the others can simply say, ‘Up’ or ‘Down’ and their balloon will rise or fall.”

  “How fast?” Angus asked. The other two looked at him, so he explained, “We might need to rise very fast or drop just as quickly.”

  Annabelle exchanged a glance with Reedis who nodded and sighed.

  “I suppose we shall,” Reedis said. He waved his hand at the bundle and it fell to the ground. He smiled ruefully as the rock clattered against the wood floor. “And probably not like that!”

  “By preference, certainly,” Annabelle agreed with a half smile.

  “That,” Reedis said with a sigh, “is where the problems begin.”

  “Shouldn’t we first learn your spell?” Annabelle said.

  “You can’t learn my spell,” Reedis said testily. Annabelle quirked her eyebrow up questioningly. “You have to learn how to do my spell your way.”

  “Witchcraft?”

  “No,” Reedis snapped. Then he shook his head and added doubtfully, “At least, I think not.” He waved a hand at her. “Where would you carry all the supplies? Or would you prick yourself and get blood?”

  “For that?” Annabelle said, shaking her head. “No, blood would be too much for a simple spell like that.”

  “Simple?” Reedis said, sounding affronted.

  “Let me see…” Annabelle said, rummaging through her front pockets. She pulled out a rock, frowned at it and let it slip back into her pocket. A thimble followed it, as did a dead insect, and a thin bit of string.

  “You can do magic, can’t you?”

  “I can,” Annabelle said slowly, “but I prefer witchcraft.” She sat back in her seat, sighed, and closed her eyes. With her eyes still closed she gestured in the direction of Reedis. “Throw it up, please.”

  Reedis obliged and sat back in his chair with a pleased expression as the cloth bundle stopped its descent and hovered, wobbling up and down as though not quite sure whether it would fly to the ceiling or drop to the floor.

  “Can you make it go up?” Reedis asked after a moment. In answer, the bundle dropped to the floor and Annabelle let out a long, slow breath, opened her eyes and shook her head.

  “That’s hard, that is,” she said with feeling. Reedis lifted his head and looked pleased with himself. “I don’t know if I could lift a person.”

  “Once you get the hang of it, it gets easier,” Reedis promised.

  “But we’re going to need this spell tomorrow!” Annabelle snapped. “I haven’t got time to get the hang of it.”

  “Could you do it with witchcraft, then?”

  Annabelle shook her head. “I doubt it,” she said. “At least, not by tomorrow.”

  “Well…” Reedis said slowly, turning his head toward Angus. ‘Why don’t you try?”

  “Me?” Angus cried in surprise. “I haven’t got any magic!”

  “Angus, my boy, when a god says you’ve got magic, you’ve got magic,” Reedis told him firmly, gesturing to Annabelle for confirmation.

  “He’s right,” she said. She gave Reedis a frown. “Although no one said what type or how quick he’ll be.”

  “I’d say you’ll be strong or the goddess of strength wouldn’t have told you,” Annabelle told him brightly.

  “You’re good with fire, aren’t you?” Reedis asked. Angus nodded. “And you’ve made dragon steel?” Again, Angus nodded. “I don’t know much about it but it would seem that for you to do that you must get your magic from Ophidian.”

  “No, he doesn’t,” Ophidian said in response. The others started and located the god — he was standing near the door, leaning against the wall, looking somewhat bored. Ophidian smiled — that is, he showed many teeth — and said to Angus, “It’s true that you can use the fire, but I don’t claim you.”

  “Then who does?” Reedis asked. Ophidian locked eyes with him silently and Reedis grew pale, adding quickly, “If you’d be so kind as to tell us, great god.”

  “Or you could turn him into ash and let the serpent freeze the world,” Annabelle said, buffing her nails on the top of her blouse.

  Ophidian turned his gaze to her, his eyes glowing brighter. “I like you,” he told her, showing more teeth. “How tasty are you?”

  “I’m a better cook than I am cooked,” Annabelle replied coolly. “Mage Reedis — as you doubtless observed — was showing us his spell.”

  “Yes,” Ophidian said, “so I saw.”

  “Invisibility is one of your things, isn’t it?” Annabelle said, pursing her lips and shaking her head. “Must make you very popular at parties.”

  Ophidian’s nostrils flared and he blew out a breath… smoke came out and curled upward huffily.

  “That might work,” Angus said, pointing to the dragon god. “Your breath could fill the balloons.”

  “And turn them into ash,” Annabelle said, “his breath is too hot, as you should remember.”

  Angus’ face fell.

  “Go to the Hall of the Gods, apprentice of Zebala,” Ophidian said. “The sooner you learn your fate, the sooner you can help here.” And with that, he vanished, leaving Annabelle and Reedis looking nervously at the young smith.

  Angus rose to his feet slowly and seemed to wobble for a moment before he collected himself. “I’d better go.”

  Chapter Seven

  Outside the study, Angus found Hana rushing toward him. “You’re not going alone!” she swore, grabbing his hand and leading him up the long main corridor. Accents of blue and green gave way to accents of yellow and orange.

  “Wymarc told me,” Hana explained as she tugged him along. “Krea was there for me, so I wanted to be here for you.”

  “Thank you,” Angus said with feeling. “That’s very kind.” He added, in an attempt at levity, “At least we don’t have to worry about hatpins.”

  Hana turned back to him, reached into a long pocket in her robe and pulled the hatpin out. “Actually,” she said, “I thought we might want it. For defense.”

  “It won’t do any good against the gods,” Angus said. “I wouldn’t even try.”

  “I don’t think we need to worry about them,” Hana agreed.

  The walk up the main corridor to the Hall of the Gods did not really take forever, it only seemed so. Even so, Angus was glad of the company and found himself glancing at Hana out of the corner of his eye until she caught him at it and pushed against him, laughing. “Am I close enough now?”

  Encouraged, Angus draped an arm across her shoulder and hugged her tightly. They finished the long walk together.

  #

  At the double doors, Hana pulled away. “You need to go in first.”

  Angus made a face then nodded. He drew one of her hands up to his lips and kissed it. “For luck.”

  “I’m going to be right behind you,” Hana pledged.

  Angus pushed open the door and stepped through. As soon as he entered the hall, the door behind him clanged shut. He turned and pulled on the handle but it wouldn’t budge. He tried the other door with no better luck.

  Resolutely, he turned back to the long line of statues of the gods. He squared his shoulders and marched forward.

  He stopped in front of the statues of Hissia and Hanor, the gods of air and bowed deeply to them. “Thank you for helping Hana,” he said. Silence. “She saved my life.”

  When they made no motion, no response, Angus rose and, with a final nod, turned to continue his journey.

  He paused at the statues of Vorg and Veva, bowing. “I thank you for all my time at the forge,” he said to them. “The flames kept me warm even while I was working steel.”

  Again, nothing.

  He smiled at Arolan and nodded to Ametza.

  He just barely recognized the statues of Geros and Granna — the earth gods. Rabel
Zebala — Krea’ s father — had spent several hours drilling Angus on the names and appearances of the gods. “Although they can choose any form they desire, most gods have a preferred form,” Rabel had said so many months ago.

  He saw the figures of Hansa, god of fate, of Kalan, the god of justice, and continued onwards until he reached the very end of the hall with the gods of the Moon and the Sun. None of them stirred.

  As he turned back toward the doors, he noticed a stone basin mounted on a raised pedestal. Water shimmered in it. As Angus approached, the surface of the water changed. He peered into it. The water darkened and then he saw flashes of lightning flare across the surface. A moment later, the water stilled. Angus waited for minutes but nothing else occurred.

  Slowly he retraced his steps toward the double doors. He pushed on one hopefully and was surprised when it sprang open. Hana was pulling frantically from the other side.

  “What happened?” she cried as she rushed into his arms and hugged him frantically. “I tried and tried to open the door but it wouldn’t budge!”

  “Nothing,” Angus said. “None of the gods spoke to me.”

  “But what did you see?” A voice asked from behind Hana. Ophidian.

  “See?” Angus said. He started to shake his head but stopped. “There was a basin with water.”

  “And?” Ophidian prompted, moving to Hana’s side, opposite Angus.

  “It looked like there was lightning, and then nothing,” Angus said.

  “Lightning?” Ophidian repeated, his expression intent. “How many bolts?”

  Angus frowned at the dragon god. “Two. I think.”

  Ophidian nodded. “That makes sense.” He stared at Angus for a moment, then moved and touched the smith’s forehead with an outstretched finger. “I shall give you this, for the present.”

  Angus felt a burning sensation and a jolt shoot through his head and he tried to jerk away from the dragon god but couldn’t.

  Smiling, Ophidian pulled his finger back and blew on the tip as though it were on fire. “Now, you need to get back to work.” And he was gone.