Ronan? How could it be? Ronan was dead. Ronan was just a dream…
“Not exactly,” a familiar voice said in a gleeful manner, and the merriment echoed through Alaric, filled with familiar mischief.
“Ronan? How?”
“Well, it’s rather long and complex, Lark,” Ronan said. “It’s a very ancient spell. A rather good one, I might add. Apparently, it works quite well…”
“But, you’re inside me,” Alaric said, and through his mental eye, he saw shadows and light take form. Ronan appeared, dressed in bardic greens.
“What you carry is my spirit essence, and my knowledge,” Ronan said. “It’s quite well known a dead mageborn’s spirit can share flesh with a living one…so long as that living one gives consent. It’s also known a mageborn’s spirit can be bound into an object, allowing them to leave the place where they actually died.”
“The ring you gave Marda…” Alaric said, and his thumb subconsiously twisted it about the finger on which he wore it.
Ronan smiled. “I knew you would figure it out sooner or later. I put a piece of my essence into that ring when I was alive and set a pathway spell on it. I put part of my essence in you as well, hidden behind that wall I built in your head along with the song. Something to give me an anchor when the time came. The rest of my essence, Tane kept trapped in my own hand, the one he cut off that night I died. He used my own bones to trap my spirit. But when you touched that hand, or rather when my ring touched my old bones, it opened the pathway I needed, and all I had to do was follow it while I used my essence in the wall as a focus point so I could break free of Tane’s little prison.”
“Then you are inside me?” Alaric asked.
“Yes,” Ronan said and grinned. “Isn’t it grand?”
Alaric sighed. “This isn’t right,” he said. “I want you to leave.”
“I can’t leave,” Ronan said softly. “I’m afraid you are stuck with me, Lark.”
“I don’t like this!” Alaric said. “I don’t want to be stuck with you.”
“It’s a little late for that, I’m afraid.”
“You lied to me. You used me and now…I’m stuck with you forever!”
“Well, only until the time of the Darkening, Alaric. Only until Na’Sgailean rises once more to throw her shadow across the land. It will happen one day, though no one can truly say when…”
“Well, that may not be so far from happening as you think,” Alaric said. “Tane broke that wall. He knows the secret of the Dragon’s Tongue, even if I do not…”
“Not all of it,” Ronan said and shook his head so the dark hair fluttered about his eldritch face. “Tane does not have the key, thanks to me. Who do you think struck Tane out of your mind when he breached the memory wall?”
“You?”
“Exactly,” Ronan said. “Now, we will have stop him. Even without the full secret, he can still set the Dark Mother free, and that is what we must prevent.”
“We?”
“You and I, and your demon…and Fenelon and his friends, but only if Fenelon behaves.”
Alaric shook his head. “I don’t want to be part of this!” he snapped. “I never wanted to be part of it!”
“You have no choice,” Ronan said with a bitter smile. “Besides, look at it this way. With me as your internal guide, your chance of becoming the greatest bard in all Ard-Taebh is increased tenfold. Quite a good thing for you, if you want my opinion.”
Alaric blanched. “Are you telling me the only reason I am a bard is because of having you inside me?” Anger surged. Was his whole life one big lie?
“I did not give you the talent and skill you already possessed, Lark,” Ronan said. “You were meant to be a good bard. I saw that the first day I met you. That’s why I chose you.”
“And how can I believe that? How do I know you’re not lying to me now?”
A brief hint of grief swelled inside Alaric. Ronan looked pained by the accusation. “I’m sorry, Lark. I never meant for you to hate me so. I promise, I will not interfere in your life. I’m part of you now, as translucent as air. Look at me, Lark. You know I speak the truth!”
Alaric sighed. He could feel it, though he was hard pressed to believe it was so.
“All right,” Alaric said slowly. “But we must get one thing perfectly straight.”
“And that is?”
“I am in charge,” Alaric said.
Ronan smiled. “I won’t take that from you unless you relinquish it of your own free will. This flesh belongs to you. I am only here for the ride.”
“And I don’t want you to go chattering in my head all the time,” Alaric said. “The last thing I need is people deciding I have gone insane.”
“I will only speak to you when you speak to me.”
Alaric sighed. “Then you can stay for now,” he said.
“Thank you, Lark,” Ronan said and looked amused. “You won’t regret my company.”
“Just don’t make me regret it,” Alaris said.
Ronan smiled again and started to fade. “By the way,” he said. “Tane is not having much success at finding the Dragon’s Tongue just now.”
“Why not?” Alaric asked. “How do you know this?”
“I crippled him when I attacked his mind…” Ronan said, sounding quite pleased. “He had to go into hiding to recover. The life of one measly bandit was not enough to feed his power and give him back his health. And besides, while you’ve been asleep, I’ve been watching…”
Alaric would have asked how Ronan could do that, but the bard’s presence slipped away. Oh, Ronan was still there. Alaric could still feel that essence now as a separate entity from his own.
An ancient spell, and I’m stuck with you for the rest of my life. Wait until he told Fenelon about that.
~
“This was a dream, right?” Fenelon said at breakfast the next morning, and Etienne could see his disbelief and dismay. Of course, knowing Fenelon, it was probably coupled with jealousy. He was forever coveting ancient spells.
“No, it wasn’t a dream,” Alaric said in a testy fashion. She felt sorry for him. Fenelon’s response would have drowned her enthusiasm too. “I was wide awake. Vagner said he could see the other in me, and when I looked for myself, I could see him too. I’m carrying Ronan’s essence right now, and he’s laughing at you…”
“That’s impossible,” Fenelon said. “I would have noticed.”
“Look, I told you he said it was an ancient spell,” Alaric said.
Fenelon frowned, and his gaze flashed briefly at the demon’s mark on Alaric’s hand. “And how can you be sure Vagner didn’t put this dream in your head?” Fenelon asked, and his narrowed gaze moved from Alaric to the great horned owl perched on the young man’s chair. “Demons, after all, do possess spells of mind control.
“I most certainly did not,” the demon said with a mad flutter of wings. “The other was already there when I gave the little master my essence. And anyway, I cannot control the mind of one who wears my mark and is master of my True Name.”
“What?” Fenelon glowered now. Etienne picked up a piece of bread and tore it into small bits. This was becoming quite entertaining. It wasn’t often Fenelon looked so flustered at not being on top of things.
“Part of Ronan was behind that wall in my head,” Alaric said and held up his hand. “This ring, which Marda left to me, was the path. Tane trapped the rest of Ronan in the bard’s own hand, which Tane wore as an amulet. When I took hold of that hand, I completed the bridge that set Ronan free from Tane’s trap.”
Fenelon looked thoughtful now. “Well, that wouldn’t be unheard of,” he said. “I do recall my grandfather telling me about how his father had spoken of a Firstborn spell of transference. But his father would never give him the spell because he said it was dangerous.”
“Dangerous?” Alaric paled. “In what way?”
“Something about losing control of oneself.” Fenelon raised an eyebrow in thought.
“Rona
n assured me it would not come to that,” Alaric insisted. “Not without my consent.”
“All right,” Fenelon said. “So maybe Ronan’s spirit is in you. And maybe he does know a trick or two of Old One magic. He was always rather selfish about sharing his spell knowledge…”
Now, that, Etienne thought smugly, sounds more like Fenelon. Jealous of someone who knows Old Magic he has been denied.
“But for now what is important,” Fenelon continued, “is for us to figure out where Tane has gone and where the Dragon’s Tongue is. And to find a way to get rid of your pet demon.”
“I don’t like the way he says that,” Vagner hooted and billowed his feathers into a fierce raptor’s pose.
“First things first is right,” Alaric said. “Our first goal should be to stop Tane.”
Etienne could not help but notice how the ferocity of the demon’s eyes became mirrored in Alaric’s gaze. She glanced at Fenelon, wondering if he saw it as well.
But Fenelon frowned instead. “Oh, Horns,” he said.
“What?” Etienne ventured.
“Turlough is outside requesting permission to enter Eldon Keep…”
FORTY ONE
They mutually agreed Vagner needed to hide, so Alaric ordered the demon out of the keep and into the forest below. Etienne came up with a plan to hide the demon’s mark. She quickly bandaged Alaric’s right hand and a portion of his arm. Fenelon, meanwhile, took his time going to the gate and opening the wards that would allow the unwelcome Turlough to enter Enldon Keep.
“Why do you think he’s here?” Alaric asked, feeling a strong sense of unease in the pit of his stomach.
Etienne merely favored Alaric with a shrug. She had barely finished tying off the dressing when the bluster of voices filled the corridors. Patting his shoulder in a reassuring gesture, she quickly returned to her chair. Shona picked up a chess piece from the board and held it as though thinking where to move it.
“…Of course, I was going to bring him to you,” Fenelon could be heard to say in a loud manner, “but he was only able to get out of bed for the first time today. Tane tortured him something terrible, you know. It’s a wonder he was alive at all when we found him.”
“Then he should have been taken to Dun Gealach’s healers instead of being entrusted to some local herb cutter,” Turlough said.
“Ah, but under the circumstances, I though it best to bring him here. This way, Etienne and I could weave some of the greater spells needed to protect him from Tane.
“You certainly had more than enough wards around this place…”
“One cannot be too careful, Uncle. Tane kidnapped Alaric once, and I refuse to let that happen again. The wards are merely a precaution. That Tane is a tricky fellow. Why he might try anything to get inside…even a disguise. For that matter, how do I know you’re really my delightful uncle and not Tane in disguise?”
“You have got to be out of your mind,” Turlough said. “And why are you shouting?”
“Sorry, Uncle, but my ears are a bit stuffy today,” Fenelon said. He came through the door, poking a finger into one ear and wriggling it for effect.
Turlough ignored the explanation. His hoary gaze fixed hard on Alaric as the old mage marched across the room. His robes fluttered about him, reminding Alaric of a bird of prey descending on a helpless hare. Behind him came the ever faithful Lorymer.
“Well, lad, good to see you up and about,” Turlough said, though his expression clearly said otherwise. “So exactly what did Tane Doran want from you? And why, in the name of Cernunnos, does it smell like a demon’s been in here?”
Oh, Horns, Alaric thought. He’d never imagined Turlough could smell the demon’s presence.
“Uncle, Alaric was the demon’s prisoner while he was being tortured by Tane,” Fenelon said. “Likely, it’s the stench of that terrible place still clinging to the poor lad’s essence.”
“Perhaps,” Turlough said and narrowed his eyes with a swift glance at Lorymer. “So what did Tane Doran want, lad?”
“Well, I’m not quite sure,” Alaric said, his voice breaking convincingly. “But I think he wanted a song.” He caught a glimpse of Fenelon back behind them all whose gestures indicated Alaric should say little more.
“A song,” Turlough said. “He could have paid for plenty of those. What song?”
“Something about a dragon,” Alaric said. “But I didn’t actually know the song, so I couldn’t tell him.”
“And just how did you escape?” Turlough asked.
“He didn’t escape,” Fenelon said. “We rescued him. He was unconscious when we brought him back here. You can ask any of my servants.”
Well, Alaric thought. That was true enough.
“Ah, then you dealt with Tane Doran as I asked?” Turlough said, turning to Fenelon.
“Well, no. He got away,” Fenelon said. “But we think we may know where he was going. We were just waiting for Alaric to recover…”
Turlough ignored Fenelon, though. His gaze had fallen to the floor where a solitary owl’s feather rested upon the fresh reeds. Alaric’s brows rose. Even from here, he could feel the demon’s essence on it. He shot a glance at Etienne who was closest. She too saw the feather, and suddenly lunged out of her chair. Quickly, she stepped into Turlough’s path while brushing the reeds with the hem of her long robes and gown.
“What Fenelon means is once Alaric has recovered, we plan to go after Tane Doran…”
She tried to catch his eye. Turlough merely raised a hard stare, then gently took her arm and pushed her aside.
“I sense a demon,” Turlough said. He glanced at the place where the feather had been, but it was gone. A frown furrowed his eyebrows into a single line. He turned a sharp look back at her. “Madam, will you lift and shake your skirts…Now!”
“Well, I never!” Etienne said, and her face went livid with color. Alaric wasn’t sure if it was an act, or if she was really shocked by the High Mage’s demand.
“Really, Uncle,” Fenelon said and charged forward to defend her. “How could you ask such a thing of Etienne? And in front of the young folk, no less.”
“Damn it, I am not propositioning her!” Turlough snapped. “I want to see if that feather is stuck to her skirts.”
“Feather?” Fenelon said. “Now, that is a rude euphemism, Uncle. Where are your manners?”
“Oh, never mind,” Etienne said. “If it will make him happy to humiliate me in this fashion…” She took a step, then lifted the skirts of her robes enough to show her ankles. For good measure, she gave the cloth a shake. Several reeds fluttered, but no feather. Alaric frowned. He could still sense it.
Turlough, however, did not look convinced by any part of this performance. “Now, will you kindly step back…without lowering your skirts,” he said. “For to hide evidence of a demon from a High Mage is to risk trial for interfering with his justice.”
Etienne held her place.
“Madam, move back, or I will move you myself,” Turlough said.
“Over my dead body,” Fenelon said.
“And you will join this conspiracy and give me all the reason I need to banish you from Dun Gealach forever,” Turlough said. “Now both of you. Step back. I am still the keeper of the mageborn law.”
“Only when those laws suit you, I’ve noticed,” Fenelon said. He stepped aside. Etienne hesitated then started to lower her skirts.
“Ah, ah, ah…” Turlough said and shook an admonishing finger at her.
With a sigh, Etienne stepped back and revealed the feather had been under her foot. Turlough beamed as he scooped it off the floor.
“So, a demon has been in here in the form of a bird,” Turlough said, holding the feather aloft. “No use in denying it. All your actions speak of a conspiracy to keep this hidden, so all of you are aware of it. And since this same essence clings to only one of you…” He turned towards Alaric who suddenly wished he knew how to cast a gate spell when the feather was waved in his direction. “Let me see
your hand, young man,” Turlough said.
Alaric held up his left hand. Turlough frowned.
“Uncover the other and let me see it as well.”
Alaric took a deep breath. Horns, he would be tried and executed for certain. But then, he supposed his own fate would not matter once Tane got hold of the Dragon’s Tongue and became a god. Slowly, he unwound the strips of linen.
“I didn’t have a choice,” Alaric said softly. “I was going to die.”
He drew the last of the bandage away. Turlough seized his wrist and stared at the mark on his hand.
“I knew it!” Turlough said. “From the first day you were brought before me at Dun Gealach, I knew you had lied to me. You have consorted with demons!”
“No, I have not!” Alaric said, and tried to pull free. “I…”
His protest was cut short by a back hand blow that rocked his head back. Thankfully, the chair was padded, but the blow left him dazed. He heard shouts all around him.
“This is the mark of a greater demon,” Turlough said through gritted teeth. The strength of his grasp felt like it was about to crush Alaric’s hand. “Summon it now!”
“But…”
“Summon it!” Turlough snapped. “I want to kill it myself. Lorymer, open a gate to Dun Gealach. We will take this rogue back with us and try him for consorting with demons.”
As to who acted first, Alaric could never quite be sure. Shona threw the chessboard at Turlough, and Etienne hauled around and knocked Lorymer to the ground, breaking his gate spell. He heard Fenelon shout words of a gate spell of his own. Turlough had yet to release Alaric’s arm, but suddenly Shona was there, and like a cat, she sank her nails into the High Mage’s hand. Turlough screamed and let go so abruptly, Alaric fell. Shona gave a hearty shove that toppled Turlough just as Alaric was seized by friendlier hands. He felt himself half carried, half dragged, through a gate spell that seemed all wrong…
Moments later, he was tottering on a ledge with the wind whipping his hair. He could see a river and a forest, both of which looked keenly familiar.
“Careful,” Fenelon said. “That first step’s a little long.”
Dragon's Tongue: Book One of the Demon-Bound Page 33