Soul Magic

Home > Romance > Soul Magic > Page 15
Soul Magic Page 15

by Karen Whiddon


  As though she’d heard them, Sarina popped her head out of another tent. Her dark hair was tousled, and she smiled the sated smile of a cream-fed cat.

  “Did you call for me?”

  “No.” Alanna said.

  “Yes.” Darrick spoke at the same time. He took Alanna’s arm, wincing inwardly as she flinched. “Alanna and I need to speak privately. The child cannot be left alone.”

  Sarina’s gaze narrowed. “I do not want my cousin hurt.”

  “Sarina,” Alanna warned. “Darrick would never hurt me.” Once she’d spoken, surprise flickered across her face, then acceptance.

  “Thank you.” Relieved that at least she recognized this simple truth, he turned to Sarina. “Alanna speaks true. Never would I cause her pain.”

  “Knowingly.” A challenge rang in Sarina’s voice.

  “Or otherwise.” He then softened his tone. “I wish to speak to her about her son.”

  Alanna jumped. Sarina gave him a look of startled bemusement, then smiled. “Go.” Grin widening, she waved her hand. “Though I have thought to keep you two apart, I want Alanna’s happiness above all else. I will guard Ellette.”

  Alanna compressed her lips but said nothing, though twin spots of color appeared high on her cheeks. She allowed him to lead her to his tent, picking her way carefully over the rock-strewn ground.

  Once inside, she rounded on him. “You delay overmuch. Do you not worry for your mother? I fear for my son.”

  Knowing she attacked out of desperation, Darrick ignored her outburst. “Caradoc is the reason we must talk.”

  Her outraged expression changed to panic. “What of him? Have you received word?”

  “Relax.” He fought the urge to kiss her frown away. “`Tis nothing like that. Please, sit.”

  With her reluctance plain, she lowered herself to a pile of furs. Carefully keeping a small distance between them, Darrick did the same.

  “I am at a loss how to begin--”

  She drummed her fingers on her knee. “You have long had a blunt nature. I do not believe that has changed.”

  “Very well.” Closing his eyes for a moment, he inhaled her light floral scent. How she managed to keep this, even in the dead of winter, he could not say.

  When he looked at her again, she glared impatiently. “Go on.”

  Fine.

  “Is Caradoc my son?”

  Her mouth dropped open. Snapping it closed, she shook her head so hard her hair whipped around her. “I have told you, Caradoc is Morfran’s.”

  “Yes, you have. But how do you know for certain? Do you not remember the night that we--”

  “I have not forgotten.” In her agitation, her chest rose and fell, drawing his gaze.

  “The night we made love.” Deliberately, he finished. How he wished she would let him clasp her hand in his. He kept his hands in his lap.

  “Morfran is Caradoc’s sire.”

  “There was but a few night’s difference.” Though he knew his words would hurt her, he had to say them.

  She blanched but, to her credit, did not look away. “Darrick, do not do this to yourself. Please. Nothing can be served by this.”

  “Nothing can be served?” He roared the words then, remembering others slept, lowered his voice. “If he is my son, I have the right to know.”

  A single tear made a silver path down her cheek. Still, her gaze was steady. “Caradoc was marked as Morfran’s from the moment he was born.”

  “How can you be so certain?”

  “His hair is the same copper color, Darrick.” The tears came in earnest now as she silently cried. “And my powers did not increase one he was born, as they would have if the legend speaks true.”

  “Copper color? You mean Caradoc’s hair is the color of flame?”

  “Aye. As is Morfran’s. Not yours. Now tell me again you still think Caradoc could be your son.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Oddly enough, her words made him want to laugh. “That is all? The color of the boy’s hair is all the confirmation you required?”

  “That and the legend.”

  “No one truly knows what the puzzle means. You have no proof, not really.”

  “What more do I need?” Wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand, her lips trembled. “You have always had dark hair, Darrick. I am blond. A child of ours would have one or the other. But not red.”

  “Is his hair still the same?” Though he asked softly, Darrick watched her like a hawk. Now that he understood her reasoning, he could not fault her for her error.

  “No,” she admitted. “It has begun to darken. Brown has begun to taint the copper.”

  “So it was with me.” Though he smiled, he felt as though his heart might crack open. “I was born with fiery hair, much the same as your son. Not until I had five summers did the color begin to turn.”

  “I knew you then.” With suspicion she peered at him. “And I would remember if you had red hair.”

  “Would you?” His smile widened. “I think you were more intent on that pet fawn of yours.”

  When she continued only to silently watch him, he let his smile fade.

  “He could be my son.”

  “Darrick--”

  “Why else would Gorsedd want him? Certainly not because he’s Morfran’s. How else can you explain the power Gorsedd has been able to harness? Or the very real danger Caradoc might be in if he uses his power too early?”

  “Danger?” Leaping to her feet, she faced him, her eyes blazing. “What news have you?”

  Damn. He hadn’t meant to tell her this way, if at all.

  “Goddess’s bones, Darrick. If something else threatens my son, you’d damn well better tell me. Now.”

  He held up his hand. “Since he has been taken, you have known of the threat to him.”

  “Aye, but you speak like something else has entered the battle. If that is the case, you’d better tell me.”

  “No new threat – at least that I know of. Wynne came to me. She spoke of Caradoc’s power, Gorsedd’s abuse of it, and the real and immediate danger to your soon.”

  “Wynne knew this and did not tell me?” Her wounded look of betrayal made him want to take her in his arms. Then, despite her aversion to his touch, he did. He was not surprised when she pushed him away.

  “How does she know my son has power? And how can she be certain that Gorsedd has begun to abuse it?”

  “Wynne said she had only learned of it.”

  “How?”

  “I do not know.”

  “But she came to you, rather than me.” Eyes full of a dark, terrible anger, she strode to the entrance, rounding on him. “I’ve must go.”

  “Wait--”

  “I need to be alone. If what you say is true, then time runs more quickly than I thought.” Her expression grim, she shook her head. “I’ve got to think. I must find a way to help my son.”

  In three steps he crossed the room to her, half expecting her to run. She stood her ground. When he touched her arm, she met his gaze without flinching, her expression unreadable.

  “Alanna, he’s my son too.”

  Her mouth worked, her face contorting. “You can’t know that.”

  “But I do.” He drew her close. “And you do too, even if you can’t yet admit it. Come, I have the fruit you wanted so badly. Share it with me.”

  “Fruit?” She sounded offended. “You wish to eat fruit now? How can that help?”

  “How can it hurt?” He made himself turn away, as though he cared little whether she stayed or went. “We can do nothing until we’ve rested. You said you need to think. Take nourishment while you do so. It may help.”

  Plucking the bag of fruit he’d purchased earlier from the ground, he untied the string and opened the cloth. He selected an apple, marveling at the large size of the fruit, along with its ruby red color. Though he never ate raw fruit, he knew the Fae did not cook it as humans did.

  Taking a bite, he chewed slowly, letting the sweet flavo
r fill his mouth.

  “Have some.” He held the apple out to her. “It’s good.”

  She bit her lip and looked away.

  He ate some more, watching her while chewed.

  “Darrick.” Meeting his gaze, she gave him a sad, weary smile. “I must go now. Truly do I need a moment alone. Then I must talk to Sarina and try to summon Wynne.”

  Chest tight, he inclined his head. “We will speak more of this on the morrow.”

  “Mayhap.”

  This time, when she marched off, he did not follow. Instead, he lay down on his furs, apple forgotten, and tried to picture the face of the boy who might be his son.

  A short while later he came awake with a start. Had he been dreaming, or had he heard the sound of hoof-beats?

  Pushing himself up, he rubbed his eyes as the world swayed and wavered. Not enough sleep. He made his way outside, scanning the small camp for any signs of danger.

  He saw none. A quick glance at the horses showed all were accounted for, save two. Alanna and her cousin’s white palfreys were missing.

  “Geoffrey.”

  The other man appeared instantly at Darrick’s summons.

  “Where are the women?”

  A quick glance around and Geoffrey too understood the situation. He cursed.

  “What in the name of--”

  “Who knows? We must find them. They can’t have been gone long. Come.”

  Because it would take too long to fetch saddles, Darrick and Geoffrey rode their warhorses bareback, carefully searching for any trail the women might have left. The ground was hard and grassy, with stones and packed dirt. They’d left no tracks, yet some instinct told Darrick which way to go.

  Across one particularly rocky field, a huge pile of stones appeared to have been haphazardly placed. They headed there. The closer they drew, the more it became clear that this place was some sort of makeshift temple.

  Darrick motioned to Geoffrey and they dismounted, leading the horses to approach on foot.

  They heard voices. Three. Alanna, Sarina, and Wynne. Surprised, Darrick moved closer.

  Inside, Alanna and Sarina spoke to thin air.

  Knowing Wynne’s proclivity for remaining invisible, Darrick was not worried. But Geoffrey would not take such a thing well.

  As he thought this, Wynne slowly materialized, appearing in a glimmer of sparks.

  The women fell silent when Darrick and Geoffrey entered the unlit, stone temple.

  “Wynne has come to warn us.” Alanna stepped forward. Though she glanced at Geoffrey, her gaze remained fixed upon Darrick. “She has seen more danger.”

  “This we already know.” Geoffrey’s bitter tone was a surprise. “Tell us what form the attack will take.”

  Wynne’s serene expression did not change. “I do not know.”

  “Then you are of no use to us.”

  “Geoffrey,” Darrick warned. “Wynne holds a revered position as seer among her people.”

  “Wait.” Wynne held up her hand, her expression amused. “You’d best consider my warning. Gorsedd has much to lose should you succeed. You grow too close to that which he wishes to protect.”

  “As of yet, I have not heard any useful warning.”

  “Enough.” Darrick motioned Geoffrey to silence. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, surprised to find himself perspiring. He looked at Wynne, then Sarina and Alanna. Their forms seemed less solid, wavering.

  He licked his lips. “What have you seen?”

  “The vision came to me in water, and spoke of the near future. A watery death awaits he who helps the Reagan.”

  The sea. Darrick shivered. “Alanna.”

  “Yes.” She nodded. “You cannot let him take Caradoc across the waves.”

  “We travel as quickly as we are able.” Suddenly dizzy, Darrick ran a hand through his hair, wishing the vertigo would pass. “How far ahead of us are they?”

  Wynne spoke. Her lips moved, but Darrick could not hear the words.

  “Unghhh.” Darrick groaned. His stomach heaved. Pain stabbed through him, and his vision grayed. He fell to his knees, doubling over as cramps ripped through him.

  “Help me.” He croaked. With his throat suddenly too tight to breath, he couldn’t be sure he got the words out.

  The next he knew, he was on a soft pile of furs. Hot, too hot. He thrashed about, unable to make more than animalistic, guttural sounds of pain. A soft voice soothed him, a gentle hand smoothed back the hair from his brow. A damp cloth brought cool relief. Alanna? He wanted to know if she’d overcome her reluctance to touch him, but couldn’t find the strength to open his eyes.

  Another moment. Not sure if he was awake or dreaming. He burned, then felt as though encased in ice. He cried out and a woman – Alanna? - came to him and lay beside him. She wrapped her silken arms around him to ease his violent shaking. Alanna - `twas the scent of her – he’d know it even here, in this hellish nightmare – and he clung to her and gasped for air.

  Again time passed, though whether hours or days he could not tell.

  “Darrick.” She called to him, bringing him up from the darkness. He squinted against the bright light.

  “Darrick.”

  He opened his eyes, still dizzy. And thirsty. “Water,” he croaked, raising his head. She lifted a wineskin and drizzled a few drops of liquid into his mouth. It tasted cool and wonderful.

  “More.”

  “Patience.” But she let him have another mouthful.

  “What is that?”

  “Water,” she said.

  Instantly, his stomach roiled in protest. “You wish me to die?”

  “Fae water.” She sounded amused. “`Tis not foul like man’s. Drinking it will give you strength.”

  He twisted his mouth, trying for a smile. “More.”

  “Just a little.”

  He managed two gulps before he let his head drop, exhausted by the effort.

  “Sleep,” she said.

  * * * *

  “We must do something.” Alanna paced the ground, ignoring Geoffrey’s protest. “If we let Gorsedd cross the water, `twill be all for naught.”

  “Says an old woman.” Geoffrey argued. “Who readily admits she does not really know.”

  “Wynne is the seer of Rune.”

  “Whose powers are fading.”

  Silent through most of this, Wynne stepped forward, her eyes flashing. “Take care, man of Tadhg. I have more power in one of my fingers than you have in your entire body.”

  “Yet you cannot stop him.”

  “True. But we can make him stumble.”

  Geoffrey shook his head. “I--” Sarina touched his arm, silencing him. “Wait. She is right. Please, listen to her. Darrick would.”

  Whether from Sarina’s light touch or her invoking Darrick’s name, Alanna did not know, but Geoffrey fell silent.

  “What would you have us do?”

  “Pair of Pairs.”

  Puzzled, Alanna wanted to throw up her hands. In her tent nearby, Darrick lay near death, and she wanted to be with him. “Why invoke the legend now?”

  Wynne gestured at Alanna, including Geoffrey and Sarina. “Join hands. Together, we can summon enough power to bring a storm upon the ocean.”

  “I cannot help you.” Geoffrey backed away. “I am not Fae and--”

  “You are Tadhg.” Wynne spoke sternly. “And thus, one of the pair of pairs. Take Sarina’s hand. She too is Reagan.”

  Geoffrey’s thunderous expression might have made Alanna laugh, if it hadn’t exactly mirrored her own confusion.

  “Wynne, he is not Tadhg. He is bastard born.”

  With compassion in her face, Wynne peered at Geoffrey. “Know you the name of your sire?”

  Swallowing, he shook his head. “My mother would not tell me. She was not gentle born, and was ashamed.”

  “Did you never wonder how you came to be fostered at Thorncliff?”

  Again he moved his head. “No.” Stark pain clouded his eyes.
“My mother wanted me to become a warrior.” Sarina lifted his hand, unclenching his fist so that she might slide her fingers between his.

  “You are Oren Tadhg’s son.”

  “You lie.” Geoffrey bared his teeth. “How dare you speak so of him. He would never--”

  “The Fae do not lie.”

  As stunned as he, Alanna thought back to the first time she’d met Geoffrey. She and Darrick had been strolling hand-in-hand in the keep’s garden and when Geoffrey had appeared, she’d thought at first he was Darrick’s younger brother, until Darrick had informed her differently.

  She studied Geoffrey with fresh eyes, noting the cleft in his chin and the high cheekbones and slender fingers, so like Darrick’s.

  Darrick’s brother? And Caradoc possibly his son? If he lived – and he would, she vowed – would he not find joy in the knowledge he was no longer so alone in the world?

  Face flushed, Geoffrey looked to Alanna for confirmation. She gave a slow nod and he looked away.

  “Join hands.” The command in Wynne’s voice left no room for argument. Sarina led Geoffrey forward. Alanna took his other hand. He did not resist. He was probably too stunned to think. Holding fast to Wynne, who with Sarina, completed the circle, Alanna closed her eyes and went deep within herself.

  Wynne began to speak the words of power.

  And it came – rising up from the bottoms of their feet. No flash of lightning this time, but a rumble just the same. Alanna let it take her, knowing from Sarina’s sure grip on her hand she did the same.

  Geoffrey cried out – in wonder or fear, she did not know. As long as he did not break free, the circle would hold.

  As the power rose through them, of them and then left them, Alanna felt her knees grow weak.

  “It is done.” Releasing her hand, Wynne stepped back. “Even as we speak, a storm broils over the ocean. It will last for a few days and keep Gorsedd on the shore. If Darrick is not recovered in a day or two, you will have to go west without him.”

  “I will not leave Darrick.” Alanna spoke first, hearing Geoffrey echo her words. She met his gaze, pleased to note that, for the first time, he regarded her with approval rather than censure.

 

‹ Prev