Mistweavers 01 - Enchanted No More

by Robin D. Owens

  “You do use your air magic for communication.”

  He hunched a shoulder. “Yes, some.”

  She patted his hand that lay on her thigh. “Thanks for including me, I know that you can speak to your mother mentally.”

  “To her, not necessarily to all the other dryads, and I want them linked together for this. I am not putting you at risk. Having the spiderweb might help you, but not if it pains you.” He flexed his fingers.

  “How does it feel now?” Jenni asked.

  “Good, a little humming below the surface of my skin, but I sense that will be temporary.” He glanced at the large patch of shimmering air. “Mother!” he commanded. He called her three more times, the last using her full name and the name of her tree before she answered.

  “Yes, Aric?” She smiled, as if he hadn’t been irritated with her.

  He held up his marked hand.

  “Ooooh!” She cocked her head to study it. “Interesting color, but I don’t think it would suit me—”

  “Mother! The color wasn’t my choice.”

  “Wasn’t it?” She let a pause hang and Jenni thought it was because Leafswirl was reminding Aric of his nature, of what he suppressed or ignored, or…

  “I like the pattern, though. You were lucky to find one during the day.”

  “It hurt, Mother.”

  “Oh! I’m sorry.” Now her expression was that of any mother comforting her child.

  “I don’t want to put Jenni through the same pain.”

  “But Jenni accepts both her natures,” Leafswirl said.

  Aric’s teeth snapped together. Jenni leaned forward to catch Leafswirl’s eye.

  “Leafswirl, do you know any halfling who has received the tatt besides the guy who was having sex? Can you check with everyone?”

  Leafswirl squirmed a bit. “Well, the phenomenon of the spiderwebs seems to be only here on the California coast.”

  “You have friends everywhere, check and get back to me, please,” Aric said.

  “I will.” Now looking uncomfortable, Leafswirl whisked herself out of sight.

  Aric let the molecules of the air communication patch disperse, sighed and leaned back with Jenni. “Let me hold you a bit before I have to get up and report to the Eight about Kondrian’s shadleech attack on you.”

  Jenni kissed his jaw. “All right.” She picked up his hand to study the spiderweb marking more closely. “It did protect you. None of them got to you.”

  “They didn’t get past my sword.”

  “But they like to swarm a person in three dimensions. They didn’t get you.”

  “They were aiming more for you.”

  Jenni kissed his finger. “Face it, Aric, the spiderweb worked.” She touched his cheek so he’d look at her. “You caused this benediction for your Treefolk. You saved them from the shadleeches.”

  “So far.”

  “So far. That’s something to be proud of, and something to report to the Eight, too.”

  He slanted her a considering look. “I asked for help for the Treefolk, Rothly asked for help and he was healed. His arm was straightened and his magic returned.”

  “Not Mistweaver magic.”

  “But some unwarped kind. That’s how it seemed to me, what about you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Both the guardians might have put a little more power behind all of our wishes—the elf wished for good, and it’s good that the dryads now have some protection against the shadleeches. It’s good that Rothly is healed. The dwarf formed the intention that the creativity of the second bubble be used for the Lightfolk.” Aric shrugged. “Who knows how that is manifesting, but the dryads and Treefolk support Earth’s natural magic and the Lightfolk, so helping the dryads also helps the Lightfolk, and Rothly is half-Lightfolk.” Aric curved a hand around her face. “As you are. What did you wish for, Jenni?”

  “Didn’t you hear me?”

  “No. Everything happened too fast.” His jaw flexed. “That’s where my natures of air and Treefolk clash. I don’t always comprehend events and act quickly. What did you ask for, Jenni?”

  Jenni’s face heated from embarrassment, not her fire nature.

  His turn for his fingers to ask that she would meet his eyes. “Can’t you tell me?”

  She felt her lips clamp together before she opened them, stared beyond his shoulder. “It was that little childhood charm.”

  His eyelids lowered. “I don’t know human or halfling childhood charms.”

  Sighing, she did look into his beautiful green eyes. Now she and he were in his native forest, in his very tree, his eyes seemed to have picked up a shade of hazel, a touch of brown, and made his gaze more intense. She glanced down and saw his web-marked hand. On a huff of breath, she said, “Events and emotions were moving fast for me, too. All I could think of was a little charm we learned as girls. ‘Water, earth, air, fire, bring to me my heart’s desire.’” Without looking, she could feel Aric’s slow smile.

  “Your heart’s desire. What is your heart’s desire, Jenni? Jindesfarne Mistweaver Emberdrake?”

  The name struck at her, reminding her of all the changes that had occurred in the last week.

  Aric’s head had lowered close enough that she could feel his breath on her lips. “What do you want most, Jenni?”

  “Family…” The word fell from her lips and he shuddered, jerked back.

  She blinked sudden tears away. “Oh, I know my old family is dead, but I want family. I want Rothly back as my brother.” She wasn’t quite ready to say that she wanted Aric as her lover and husband and man—was pretty damn sure that he wasn’t ready to hear those words, had no idea how much he might care for her or commit to her and her “heart’s desire.” She drew in a steadier breath. “I want a loving family, good friends.”

  Aric nodded, smoothed her hair. “You have me as a good friend. Forever.”

  That was something, she guessed. When she looked up, his eyes were only that deep, dark green.

  “Thank you, and thank you for making me think about what I want.” Her smile was wobbly. “I didn’t know until you asked. Now I do.” She shook her head, felt the mass of her hair gone fuzzy in the humidity. “I only hope the creative energies of the bubble that felt my forming intention understood what was inside me.”

  “Magic seems to do that,” Aric said. “As my mother implied with regard to my nature.”

  Jenni said carefully, “I think that your air and Treefolk natures are more integrated than she believes.”

  “I hear a but,” Aric said.

  “But you need to accept your father.”

  “Right.” He rose from the love seat. “We’ve had this conversation.”

  “Right.”

  “Let me show you the rest of my home.” This time there was little pride in his voice and Jenni wondered if she’d stolen pleasure from him with the mention of his father. She suppressed a sigh and followed him up to the other stories of his tree.

  Just above the living room was a floor with a half-circular small dining room big enough for six and a tiny kitchen. Aric said, “I do most of my cooking in the greenhome.”

  Jenni wasn’t quite sure what that meant, but since the emotions between them had cooled, she didn’t ask. Above the dining room was an office. It had modern equipment—two small computers and an all-in-one printer-fax-copier, along with a crystal ball. Jenni was pretty sure that there was no electricity to the tree, but one of the computers showed a screen saver from Fairies and Dragons, and was humming quietly.

  His bedroom was a wonder and took Jenni’s breath. Here the walls were a pale wood-paneled wainscoting to about the height of her waist, the rest was “open.” She wasn’t sure how he managed the “windows,” whether it was Treefolk magic or Lightfolk, but it was like being in a summer pavilion—up about forty feet. Again the ceiling of the room showed the sky, with graceful rafters rising to a dome, as if there was no rest of the tree above them. Maybe there wasn’t, maybe they were anchored somehow
in the greenspace.

  Slowly, Jenni turned in place. The bed was huge so Aric wouldn’t be cramped. It took up a lot of the room, but there was plenty of space around it for the curved built-in drawers and the shining polished counter atop them that ran a third of the room. Then there were a couple of large chairs—recliners!—and a love seat. Once again Jenni wondered if he’d ever brought Synicess here.

  Swallowing hard to force the lump in her throat down, Jenni kept her face clear of any doubt of him as she met his eyes. “What a wonderful place.”

  His stance relaxed and his gaze slid along her. “It is wonderful, Leafswirl saw a picture in a magazine and wanted to try it out on me, first.” He waved to the two fluffy comforters, the bottom one in a pale beige, the top in bold colors in an abstract pattern. “Too many pillows, though.”

  Jenni lowered her lashes, tilted her head, let a smile bloom on her face. “You think so? Maybe I can show you what to do with some of those pillows.”

  “Yes.” The word was rough, and then a nude Aric stood before her, definitely ready for pillow-sport. Gorgeous man. Wide-shouldered, muscular. Thrilling. Jenni melted. Her clothes vanished, too, and he reached for her, covered her breasts with his hands.

  Jenni thought no more.

  They fell on the bed and rolled and wrestled and played with the pillows and each other, celebrating life.

  Aric was snoring softly and she was nearly asleep when the crystal ball pinged with eight notes—two each of earth and water, air and fire. “Your attention, Paramon,” the King of Air, Cloudsylph, snapped.

  CHAPTER 22

  ARIC HAD TAKEN THE CALL FROM KING Cloudsylph, of course. Since Jenni didn’t care to listen in, she found the amazing bathroom off the bedroom, this area definitely in greenhome, the inner dimension that the Treefolk used and moved through and loved. She spent a long time in the half-round, glassed-in shower area, letting streams of steamy water hit her from multiple jets. Long enough that she would have drained her water heater at home. Then, feeling cleaner and better than she had in weeks—this place, at least, was not under the Eight’s rule—she dressed and took her pack and wandered down to Aric’s office.

  The day passed with Aric in consultation with the Eight and Etesian, and Jenni reviewing and transferring the old Mistweaver family information to her own new computer that had been delivered by the Eight Corp fire sprite. Jenni even managed to squeeze in a telephone call to the developers of Fairies and Dragons, who reported that the buzz about the short March leprechaun event was great, people were anticipating the roll out in two weeks and making green costumes. From comments on the game’s forums, the fan base was enthusiastic about including flying horses in the autumn update. The devs wanted Jenni to write several story arcs for that.

  Near dinnertime, Leafswirl popped in and ate steamed vegetables while Jenni and Aric munched on lightly battered chicken fingers with a variety of dipping sauces.

  The dryad had a story about a halfling being marked with the spiderweb, a half merfem, half human. The woman had told Leafswirl personally that the marking had hurt, but she had cried and cried—using her merfem saltwater nature—on the spiderweb on her wrist and the pain had subsided. Then the shadleeches had come, but avoided her! Leafswirl remarked that the pattern was very pretty and a lovely blue-green color.

  Aric’s mother had lifted her green eyebrows at Jenni and told her that she was much more tolerant of pain than a wishy-washy merfem halfling. Jenni had nearly choked on that, but set her teeth together, put on a sickly smile and aimed it at Leafswirl.

  Aric had covered her free hand with his and said, “We’ll be heading out tonight, then, to get Jenni’s protection.”

  Leafswirl had nodded and mentioned that there would be groups of dryads out that night in her area of the forest—south—to brave the webs and do the same. Her friend Lightleaf was now considered a heroine for being the first to experience the spiderweb and had risen from Leafswirl’s extra bedroom to bask in her celebrity. With a flashing smile, Leafswirl warned Aric that he, too, was a hero, the Treeman who’d brought this relief from shadleeches to the dryads.

  He flinched and Leafswirl vanished in a dancing step through the wall, with a last, lingering comment that everyone was very grateful and he’d have lots of visitors in the next week.

  “I’ll be mobbed, you mean,” he called after his mother, and Jenni could sense he was talking to her mentally, too. “But Jenni and I are leaving tomorrow on a mission for the Lightfolk.”

  Leafswirl popped back in. “You won’t be here for the spring equinox?”

  Aric rolled his shoulders. “Doesn’t look like it.” He wasn’t meeting his mother’s eyes. Evidently he didn’t want to tell her of the great Lightfolk ritual, or the bubbles or anything else about the mission.

  “Is this dangerous?” Leafswirl demanded.

  Then he sighed and shrugged again, shook his head. “Of course it’s dangerous.”

  She flung herself on him and hugged him tight, spun and threw herself into Jenni’s arms, squeezing her, too. “Come back, both of you come back…or…or…I’ll do something.”

  Then she was gone again, leaving the scent of her green freshness in the air and the feeling of her—a strong and supple body with a mother’s warmth and concern—in Jenni’s memory.

  Jenni sank down into her chair and Aric cleared the plates and stepped out of the room to some other greenhome with them. When he returned, he and the dishes were wet and smelled of another country. Jenni stood and grasped his biceps, drying him.

  Glancing out the window, she saw the sun had left the forest in the deep shadow of evening.

  Aric drew her into his arms and once again they stood, two together against the problems of their lives.

  They left the warm light of his tree for the dimness of the forest in the dusk and Jenni shivered.

  “Wait, I have something for you,” Aric said and turned back to reenter his home, his trench coat flapping.

  Jenni stood, rubbing her arms, curling her toes into her shoes, hesitating to draw fire energy to heat her up. Aric would sense that and it would make him nervous for the forest.

  Then he was there, draping a coat around her shoulders. It smelled of leather and the finest wool-silk lining. The bright color caught her eye. A red trench coat!

  A noise of delight escaped her and he took the garment from her shoulders, held it so she could slip her arms in the delicious heat. The trench fit better than her old one. She looked up at Aric and caught a tenderness in his eyes, around his mouth, and her insides softened. She was going to get in too deep with him again, going to let him break her heart. She shivered and he folded the coat around her, belted it.

  His smile was full when he stood in front of her, adjusted the lay of her collar and lapels. “This coat really suits you. You look great.”

  She slid her hands up to catch his, her heart did a little jump at the contact. “Where did you get it?”

  Bending down, he kissed her soft and sweet, withdrew. “I asked Hartha to make it for you. She was glad to oblige.” Aric took her hand and started walking. Jenni kept up. “She said your yard was a disgrace.”

  Jenni winced. Her yard was scruffy. “We must be getting warmer weather in Denver.”

  “In the sixties,” Aric said, just like he’d been following it. “No more snow on the ground, even in the shade. Hartha wondered if she could put in a garden.”

  Aric’s hand tensed slightly in Jenni’s. He slanted her a look. “I told her that you like herbs…and roses.”

  She did, and had never put in an herb garden, had only admired and sniffed her neighbor’s roses.

  After clearing his throat, Aric studied the narrow path ahead of them. “I told her to go ahead and do what she wanted. As a thank-you, she made the trench coat.”

  “And I’m blessed thrice, by herbs and roses and the trench coat. Wonderful. Thank you.”

  He relaxed. “Welcome.”

  They didn’t talk, but walked, the sha
dows gathering deeper, and Jenni thought of a sunny herb garden in her backyard. Thought of the plants Hartha would put in. Would she try to grow some of the ingredients of the special Mistweaver tea? A couple of the plants didn’t do well in zone five, but if anyone could keep them alive with pampering, it would be a brownie.

  Then the shadows deepened and Jenni crowded closer to Aric and he put his arm around her waist. “I don’t like being afraid of dark shadows.”

  “The shadleeches would make anyone afraid.” The edge to his voice told her he wasn’t feeling casual toward the usual dimness of the forest, either. His breath caught and he stopped.

  “What?” Jenni asked.

  “Look.” He pointed and Jenni saw tiny spiders weaving webs between several trees. Her eyesight wasn’t that good, but the spiders themselves appeared like sparks when she used a bit of her magic. She realized she’d had all her senses on alert, magical and physical.

  “Should we check out the patterns to see if they are beautiful enough?” she asked.

  Aric grunted, looked at her. “It’s a little cold out, for both of us.” He grimaced. “Unless we want our spiderweb tatts on our faces.”

  “You plan on getting another?” She looked at his hand, the silver of the tatt showed a slight luminescence.

  His smile was grim as he flexed his fingers. “Good that it’s on my sword hand, but it was shriveled. Maybe I could use another.”

  “That’s not the real reason.”

  “No,” he agreed. “We’re in this together.” He reached up and sifted his hand through her hair. “I think you should put it up.”

  She stared at him. “What?”

  “I’d like to see a spiderweb tatt on the back of your neck. And, after this is all over, if you couldn’t see it, that might be a blessing.” Again his fingers twitched.

  “You don’t think the shadleeches will be around after everything is all over?”

  “I don’t know, but I’ve never heard of them breeding.” He stared in front of them and Jenni followed his gaze to see more webs between trees. “I don’t think the spiders or webs will hang around after the shadleeches are gone, either.”