Lone Star Magic

by Karen Whiddon

  “Alrick.” The Mage stepped in front of them. “Before we start, there is one more thing I must tell you.”

  Clenching his teeth, Alrick nodded. “Why are you trying to delay us? Begin the spell.”

  “Carly is with child.”

  Making a strangled sound, Alrick froze.

  Cenrick’s mouth fell open. He closed it with a snap.

  “How…,” Alrick sputtered. “When? I—.”

  Cenrick laughed.

  Mort however, was serious. “You are the father of Carly’s child. You, Alrick, will have a son and call him Lance.”

  Alrick swallowed hard. His chest felt tight, like his heart might explode. “This Lance you’ve told us of, he is my son?”

  “Yes. Even now, Carly carries your babe. When you go to save her, you also go to save your child.”

  Struck dumb, Alrick heard roaring in his ears, then the steady thump, thump, of his heart. Reminding himself to breathe, he tried to speak, and found he could not get words past the huge lump that had formed in his throat.

  “A child!” Cenrick echoed Alrick’s thoughts. “But Carly’s child is to be—.” He fell silent as the impact of the Mage’s words hit him, then, wild-eyed, grabbed Alrick’s arm. “Did you know?”

  “No.” Turning his attention back to the Mage, who’d never been wrong, Alrick narrowed his eyes. “Are you certain?”

  “Yes.”

  Alrick didn’t know whether to curse or cry. “Is she aware of this?”

  “Carly? Not yet. She suspects, but is not sure.”

  Alrick had heard enough. “Come on.” He shook off his brother’s hand. “We’ve got to find her.”

  “There is one more thing.” Again the Mage’s words halted them both in their tracks.

  “Stop delaying us. Tell us everything at once, and let us go.”

  “This is important. There has been a slight change in the Warlord’s plans.”

  Slowly, Alrick turned to face him. “A change? What kind of change?”

  Instead of answering, Mort looked down at his hands. Alrick’s stomach sank. Such an action on the part of the normally confident elderly man could not bode well.

  “What of the Warlord?” Cenrick moved to the Mage, touching him lightly on his shoulder. “Tell us.”

  “It’s best the Warlord does not know of the child.”

  “Why? Since he only wants to kill her, what difference would the name of the child’s father make?”

  With a sigh, Mort grimaced. “The Warlord no longer wishes to kill Carly.”

  Alrick stared. Cenrick did the same. Finally, Cenrick spoke. “How do you know this?”

  Mort raised his head, the miserable expression on his face making Alrick clench his teeth and swallow. “He sent me this.” He lifted his hand and Alrick saw he held a rolled up parchment. “After the bird attacked you and Carly, I sent Tinth into the future to spy on the Warlord. This morning, Tinth suddenly returned, carrying this announcement in her beak.”

  “Announcement?” The roaring in his ears grew louder. Alrick took a step forward. “Announcement of what?”

  Time seemed to stand still while the Mage made a show of unrolling it. He held it up, so they could see the elaborate gold lettering, read the taunting words.

  “Of the Warlord’s wedding. He plans to marry Carly and get her with child, with his heir. He wants Lance to be his son. That way he will have total control over the boy.”

  “But—.” Clenching his jaw so tightly it hurt, Alrick dragged his hand across his mouth. “You’re telling me that Carly is in no danger of being killed.”

  “Not now.” Mort clapped his hands. “But if the Warlord learns she is already pregnant, Carly is as good as dead.”

  “Then nothing has changed, as far as the Warlord’s concerned.” Alrick stepped outside, Cenrick close on his heels. “No more delays. We go now.”

  With that, he began to speak the words to the spell. Cenrick mimicked him. Finally Mort joined in.

  The crossing was different this time. Unlike the simple passage through the veil from Rune to the human world, this time they sent themselves through decades, straddling the fast moving river of time and hoping to come out in one piece on the other side.

  When they materialized in The Warlord’s world, Alrick glanced around to make certain they weren’t noticed. Noticed? Hah? The smog was so thick he could barely see his hand in front of his face.

  “Straits of Westra.” Cenrick coughed.

  Squinting, Alrick tried to make out something, anything. “I can’t see my hand in front of my face.”

  “I’m surprised we can breathe. The air is so thick.”

  Alrick inhaled, choking on the fetid air. “The Mage warned us.”

  “Are we in Rune or the human world?”

  “I don’t think this could be Rune. No Fae could live like this.”

  “Then that means…”

  “We’re in danger from humans. Stay close to me.” Grabbing Cenrick’s arm, he crept forward in the gloom. “If Carly is here, it won’t be easy to find her.”

  They heard the sound of footsteps, coming towards them. Several people, running.

  Chapter Seventeen

  THE SECOND the Warlord placed his hand on her arm, Carly’s blood turned to ice. His touch was cold – so friggin’ cold. She swore frost formed on her skin.

  As they traveled through blackness, she struggled to breathe. Each icy lungful she sucked in seared her lungs. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears. Was this death then?

  Not death. Not yet. She could still feel the Warlord’s wintry grip cutting into her flesh.

  They were going to the Warlord’s world. Once there, he meant to kill her. Would her death be a slow and torturous one, or would he kill her quickly and cleanly, ensuring she did not suffer?

  “I’m not ready,” she said out loud. “I’ll never be ready.”

  The Warlord didn’t answer.

  He’d won. Despite her ability to overcome her aversion to violence, she’d been able to wound him. Yet somehow, unlike books and movies, the bad guy had won. He’d captured his prey easily. Because of her rash and foolish actions, she’d helped him accomplish his goal.

  How long before he killed her?

  As air rushed past them, the cosmos of stars winked in and out. This was different than crossing from Rune to her world. Longer, requiring much more energy. Taking a wild guess, she’d bet her enemy was taking her through time. To his world? Or some other dark, dismal place, where he would find a quick and efficient way to dispatch her?

  Either way, he’d have a fight on his hands. She wasn’t going to go down easily.

  Finally, their headlong descent – or ascent – she couldn’t tell if they were going up or down- slowed.

  As she felt her body reassemble, she looked down. Her feet had arrived intact, flip-flops and all. She stood on an outcropping of black, porous rock. The Warlord kept his death-grip upon her arm. She twisted once more in a futile attempt to escape.

  “Cease.” He turned his head towards her, his eyes an no longer so icy. Instead they were an amazing and oddly beautiful shade of blue. He lowered his hood. Carly gasped. The Warlord could be Jude Law’s double, he so closely resembled the actor. Either way, her enemy was the most gorgeous bad guy she’d ever seen.

  But he meant to kill her. And he was scary as hell.

  “Let go.” Despite her attempt at bravado, her voice trembled.

  “No.” He dragged her after him.

  Carly dug in her heels. “If you plan to kill me, kill me now.”

  “Kill you?” One golden brow arched. His amazingly blue gaze met hers. “You misunderstand, my dear Carly Roberts. I don’t want to kill you. Not yet, at least. I mean to make you my wife and impregnate you. Once you bear my son, then you’ll die. Any child you have will be raised by me and me alone.”

  For a long moment, Carly couldn’t speak. When she found her voice again, the Warlord had already started forward. Like a wooden puppet, she
continued to struggle as he pulled her behind him.

  She was glad she hadn’t said the words that had immediately bubbled to her lips. She didn’t know what the Warlord would do if he found out she might already be pregnant with Alrick’s child, but she wasn’t betting it would be good.

  Up they went, following a twisted path that only led to more rock. The sky was an odd, ochre color and she saw no sun, moon, or even clouds. Just smog or fog, drifting in wispy tendrils near the ground. There were no trees or vegetation either. Were they on some other planet? Or had they gone way back in time, to an era before man had walked the earth.

  Before there was man, was there Fae? An actual giggle had escaped her before she realized she felt lightheaded, dizzy even.

  “You must be lonely,” she said, blurting out the first thing she could think of.

  He swung his head around to pierce her with his gaze. “Lonely?”

  “Yes. Don’t you live alone?” Ok, so she was guessing. But maybe if she could keep him talking, she could distract him from whatever he meant to do next. Like rape her?

  “I’ve lived by myself ever since my wife and daughter were taken from me,” he snarled.

  Damn. Too late, she remembered what the Mage had told her. How the Warlord’s family had been murdered by some insurgent church or rebels or something.

  Yikes. She struggled to remember his name. When she did, she spoke it softly. “Valerian. Valerian Wake.”

  “Yes.” He squinted at her in suspicion. “I’m surprised they told you my name.”

  “Of course they did. I’ve heard nothing else since Alrick showed up on my doorstep a couple of weeks ago claiming you wanted to kill me.”

  Amusement danced across his refined features. She shuddered. He might be beautiful to look at, but his gaze was so cold. Unemotional. Like a robot or… a terminator.

  Again she shivered.

  Noticing, he shook his head. “I’m not so bad, Carly Roberts. You shall be my wife, a great honor. And…” Ducking his head, he appeared engrossed in studying his own, well-manicured hands. “I have need of you. I’ll make this worth your while. I might even keep you alive, if you please me.”

  “If I please you?” She could scarcely believe what she was hearing. “You’ve already told me you plan to kill me, once I finish acting as your brood mare. Come on, I’m not that stupid.”

  “And I’m not that bad.” The look he gave her was amused. “I’m just a regular guy, like anyone else, doing what he has to do to make his place in the world.”

  “A regular guy? Listen, you’ve done nothing but make my life miserable. You burnt my barn, sent fire ants to my house, put poisonous snakes in my bed, not to mention the attack of the spiders.” She gave another shudder. “Then there was the quicksand, the tornado, the flash flood, the forest fire – all after-effects of your magic. You’ve been a royal pain in the ass.”

  “Have I?” He laughed, an oddly pleasant sound, coming from a man like him.

  Carly reminded herself that even mass murderers and serial killers had usually fooled their victims. So they guy was great to look at with a deep, mesmerizing voice. This probably helped him convince his followers. In her time, at the very least, he’d sell a lot of cars.

  Random thoughts. Focus. She forced herself to look at him, knowing she needed to distract him, keep him talking, while the faint possibility of help still loomed.

  “You said you were going to kill me,” she reminded him. “Remember?” She’d heard that mass murderers and serial killers often contradicted themselves with absolutely no awareness of having done so. Perhaps that was the case with this guy.

  His smile broadened. “I remember. But I’ve changed my mind. I was going to kill you. Since it took up all my magic to travel through time, leaving little to use against you, I changed plans. I decided to capture you instead. There is a better way to use you, a superior way for you to serve the greater good.”

  Serve the greater good. Not only did he have delusions of grandeur, but he’d given her a way to save her neck. Pretending to study him with interest, she found her voice. “I like the sound of that. The thought of being an influence on history has always intrigued me. Tell me more.”

  His eyes narrowed, making her fear she’d overdone it. But then he smiled again, apparently convinced she was beginning to buy into his fantasy. “You are to become my second wife. Here in Rune, away from the taint of them and their machines.”

  Rune. Okay. And he didn’t like machines. She filed that away for future reference. “You still haven’t told me why—.”

  “Your son.”

  A spurt of anger shook her. “Yes, my son. Let’s talk about him. I’ve heard he leads a group of oppressed people against an evil Warlord bent on killing them. More than killing, actually. Eradicating them from the face of the earth.”

  The amusement leached slowly from his features. “They butchered my family, slaughtered my innocent wife and daughter in front of me.” Bitterness rang in his voice. “Countless Fae and half-Fae have died at their hands. Yet they call me the evil one.”

  What could she say? “I have nothing to do with these people.”

  He went on as if she hadn’t spoken. “I tried to resurrect them, it was my right to bring them back to life, and he stopped me. Your son, the person he is now, took away my greatest desire.”

  What, not world domination? She bit her lip. “You’re scaring the hell out of me.”

  Instantly, his expression changed. Became the friendly, harmless expression of before. Just a clean-cut, regular guy, not a crazed murderer.

  “My apologies.” He held out his hand. She noticed he had long, elegant fingers. “Come to me willingly, beautiful Carly. Together, we can create great things. Our son will rule the world.”

  “But—.”

  “Our son will rule the world,” he repeated, his words echoing.

  She took a step back. “I won’t marry you.”

  “The wedding will be in less than an hour.” The Warlord smiled, a singularly beautiful expression that she now recognized as evil.

  “Look, Warlord—.”

  “Call me Valerian.”

  Oh, geez. She swallowed. “Okay, Valerian. What’s the hurry?”

  Lifting her head, she did her best to appear offended. “If you want to have a proper wedding, one befitting your station, you’ve got to plan better than this. You’re not even giving me time to find a dress or get my hair done.”

  Her ruse failed. “Don’t take me for a fool,” he snarled. “Pretending you’re a willing bride won’t stall the ceremony. And there will be a ceremony. In front of all of my people. Clothing has been provided. You will be bathed and perfumed and servants will be sent to dress you.”

  She glanced down at her flip-flop clad feet, at the black porous rock on which she stood. The fog was so thick she couldn’t see beyond the Warlord. For all she knew, this Rune of the future was a hollow shell of Alrick’s Rune. No trees, no buildings, no people, no life.

  Refusing to give up, she tried again. “If the wedding is in less than a hour, we’d better get a move on.”

  Narrowing his eyes, he studied her. She resisted the urge to squirm under his piercing gaze. “What are you planning?”

  Setting her jaw, she glared at him and said nothing. Truth was, she had no actual plan, but it couldn’t hurt to let him think she did. After all, he hadn’t even noticed her sword.

  Her sword. She hadn’t had time to learn to properly use it, but Alrick had shown her the basics. How hard could such a thing be? She’d cut him once, she could do it again. Question was – could she kill?

  His gaze flicked to her scabbard. She must have accidentally flexed her fingers.

  “That’s Fae. Where did you get that?” He took a step toward her, his expression menacing.

  Now or Never. What the hell – she had nothing left to lose.

  With the eerie sing-song of crystal, Carly drew her sword. “From the Mage of Rune.” She thought of all the
movies she’d seen, and her next words might have been written for one of them. “He made it from Fae ice, Fae power, and Fae magic.”

  Her sword began to glow.

  The Warlord stopped in his tracks. His smile chilled her to the bone. “Give me that.”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  He spoke a few words. Unintelligible to her, but they must have been words to a spell for the hair rose on her arms.

  From nowhere, a wind appeared, smelling of sulphur and sweat. Magic, but a magic unlike any she’d ever experienced before. This was a foul magic. What had happened in this time to make Rune such a nasty place?

  Something stung her. And again. The air flung grit into her eyes, so she couldn’t see. Blinding her. Picking at her skin with one had, she tried to grip the sword menacingly with the other.

  Damn the Warlord and his magic. She spoke the curse out loud.

  Ignoring her, his voice built to a crescendo as he wrapped up his spell.

  The things attacking her became bolder, more fierce. They bit with invisible teeth and clawed with razor sharp talons. Spurts of blood appeared on her arms, long welts and cuts all over her body.

  “Stop.” She ordered, unthinkingly.

  The wind immediately died, the things attacking her vanished.

  With a shaking hand, she lifted the sword higher. As the smoky smog drifted, she realized the Warlord – Valerian – had advanced another five feet. He grinned maliciously down at her.

  “Don’t come any closer.” To her surprise, he obeyed. Curiosity shone in his gaze as he studied her and her softly glowing sword. “My dear Carly Roberts. Such blades only glow when magic lights them. Is it possible you are half-Fae?”

  Confused, she frowned. “Not that I know of.”

  “Then how did you do that?” He indicated her sword. “What spell did you use to counteract mine?”

  Since she had no idea, she merely smiled, bluffing. “Don’t underestimate me,” she warned.

  “That sword.” His face contorted. “It’s magical. The sword must be feeding you power. Give it to me.”

  “No.”

  “Give it to me now!” Like a man possessed, he screamed at her. Spittle flew from him.