Deathspell

by Peter Dawes

  Jane glanced at them. “Oh. Pay them no mind,” she said, her pleasant, cryptic smile emerging in response. “They know better than to divulge our household affairs.”

  The younger female met my gaze while placing a loaf of bread before us. I watched her turn and depart, lost in the thought of such a host of people being so trustworthy. “I imagine they do. Speaking of cooking people in the bathwater.”

  “Now, let’s not be so gruesome over dinner.” I considered it worth noting that she didn’t dismiss the implication entirely. Jane tilted her head. “You were telling me about your reading.”

  “Yes, I suppose I was.” With the last of the food placed before us, all but one of the servants departed from the room. The final one who lingered – the man who had helped with my grooming – disappeared when Jane nodded at him, and with that, we were left truly alone. “So much of it is in Latin,” I continued. A common trait between your sorcerers and the church. You both seem to take exception with the common tongue.”

  “Bound by our traditions,” she said. Her smile faded, surrendering to a bout of sobriety. “Have you been able to make out any of it, though?”

  “A bit.” My eyes flicked quickly to a healthy portion of meat that had been placed upon my plate. “It still sounds strange for me to confess I’ve uttered such nonsense.”

  “And what did the words do when you spoke them? Did you sense anything different afterward?”

  She lifted her fork and stabbed at a potato with an unaffected air. Reaching for my cup, I brought it to my lips and imbibed a sip of wine before reaching for my utensils. Manners and customs still eluded me, but mimicry seemed like it could cover a multitude of sins. “Far more than that,” I finally responded. “They created fire. Wind, too, in gusts strong enough to throw open a barn door.”

  “Basic enough of a task, though impressive you were able to manage results even on your own,” she said, the air turning pensive while she weighed my words. She continued to nibble at her food while musing and I finally gave into the compulsion to lift a piece of mutton to my mouth and take a bite. Her brow furrowed while I chewed. “I’d wager more that fire is your natural element, which is curious. Are you a volatile man, Christian?”

  I snorted. “I believe most people would say that’s accurate, yes.”

  “You do bear that posture. Like a storm passing through the night.” Her smile broadened. “It begs the question of what made you this way, however.”

  “What made me what way? Volatile?”

  “Yes. Tempestuous men always have some penchant for violence. This is why fire seems to favor them.”

  Her words rendered my tongue mute for a moment. I continued picking at my food while deliberating on her observation. “I had a rather unsettled youth,” I responded, weighing my words carefully. “I suppose if anything contributed to the type of person I am, that did.”

  “It certainly would,” she said, the smile on her face dissolving to a mere half-smirk when my eyes met Lady Cavendish’s again. Hers seemed to be examining me, peeling back the layers one at a time in search of something. What, I had no way of knowing. “Many men have unsettled youths, even men of privilege. I think you’re playing coy with me.”

  “Whether I am or not is my choice in the matter.”

  “Such bold words for a peasant. Did you never learn your station, rogue?”

  A slow, mischievous grin spread across my lips. “I am no peasant, my good lady, neither am I a noble. No law binds me. If this means that I’ve never learned that station, then I will confess without hesitation.”

  “Miscreant.” The sparkle in her eyes defied the issuance of the word, bearing mirthful appreciation. She set aside her fork and took her turn drinking from her cup. “Surely there’s something you can tell me about this unsettled youth of yours. It might help me to understand you better.”

  “And why is such an understanding important?” I asked.

  Jane sampled her wine, holding her gaze steady over the rim of her glass. As she lowered it, her posture straightened. “Magic isn’t simple, nor does it seep from the skin of one man the same way it does another,” she explained. Resting her elbow on the table, she cradled her hand in her palm and narrowed her eyes playfully at me. “The words in a spell book have no actual power in and of themselves. I could hand the book to Leonard and he could repeat the contents of every page, but you could make them do more than he ever could. Trust me when I say he’s tried.”

  “And why is it that I can and he cannot?”

  “I’m not completely sure, rogue, you won’t answer my questions.” Her smile broadened, an eyebrow arching again. “You were born with it, whatever the matter. Anybody who can break a spell without being taught inherited the link which binds man to magic. Before you even knew that you had such a thing, you went through the crucible, and fire became your friend. For what it’s worth, I prefer water. This is why spend more time in this manor than the one my family owns in Exeter.”

  “I suppose that makes sense.” The barest hint of temptation traced across my thoughts for a moment, weighing her small confession and prodding me to at least reveal something to her. Breathing a sigh, I determined that the barest of details would not be damning in and of themselves. “I watched a man murder my father. He had fallen ill and a band of mercenaries caught up with him. Needless to say, the experience has lingered ever since.”

  “Were you close to him?”

  “Yes, quite. And I never forgave either God or man for taking him from me.”

  “Little wonder you bow a knee to no man. You won’t even to a higher power.”

  The nonplussed way she responded to such blasphemy said much for her caliber, where it had been my intent to scandalize her. A smirk chased away the sobriety which had fallen over me, seeing before me a challenge to counter. “God has never given me a reason to. And milady spits in His face with her witchcraft, if we were going to listen to what the priests have to say.”

  Jane snorted. “They speak whatever words will fill their coffers. I’m not stupid enough to confuse the actions of men with the directive of the Almighty. Remember, rogue, I was raised around power. It creates the largest hypocrites of them all.”

  “Finally, something we both can agree upon.”

  “Will wonders never cease?” The way her eyes settled on me bore many layers to them. As we regarded each other, she gave me a quick, curt nod and glanced away, but I continued staring, weighing what might be racing through her mind. Jane picked up her fork and pointed toward my plate with it. “Finish your supper,” she quipped. “I’ll leave you in peace now.”

  “Yes, milady,” I said, watching the shift in her demeanor and hesitating first before obeying her command. She ignored me and together, we ate in silence, consuming food and drink until we were both sated. Jane excused herself for the evening, permitting me back to my room, where I finally rid myself of her ridiculous clothing and flopped onto the bed in just my undershirt and pants. For some reason, I held no taste for reading further. Instead, I spent the time musing on Paolo, and what he might say about me sojourning in such lavish lodgings before I surrendered to the call of sleep.

  I rose with the first rays of the sun and dressed again after relieving myself. A small grin tugged at the corners of my mouth while the thought occurred of the cavalcade of servants being forced to clean up after me. Making my way downstairs, I watched two of them wrap bread and dried meat into cloth and slip it into a knapsack. Jane oversaw them, dressed in riding clothes, and accepted the bag when it was presented to her.

  “Ah, good, you’re awake,” she said when she turned to see me. “I’ll have Frances fetch you a cloak. Go and get Lawrence’s spell book. We’re going for a ride.”

  She slipped the bag over her head and raised an eyebrow at me. I mirrored the expression, somewhat befuddled at the command. “Where are we headed toward, milady?” I asked, making quick eye contact with the matronly woman as she shot me a displeased glare.

  “O
ut of town,” Jane said, grinning when our eyes met once more. The look on her face was just as cryptic as ever, her demeanor just as carefree as she nodded toward the stairs. “Away with you, then. Time won’t pause to allow us to dawdle. We have a light ride ahead of us and you have lessons to begin.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “A pity Leonard was unable to join us,” I said as we passed through the city gates, leaving Plymouth behind. Before us lay the coast, and though I preferred the company of my thoughts to entertaining her in conversation, a few things yet had me unsettled. I had been asked to accompany her unarmed, and though her bodyguard had been present in the stables when we retrieved our horses, he made no attempt to shadow us this time. This left me alone in the presence of a noble woman.

  Even my lack of piety couldn’t ignore the taboo of our situation.

  “Small mercies,” Lady Cavendish responded with a small grin. As always, she appeared completely unaffected, both bound to societal contract and liberated from it. “Though if we’re being honest, neither of us are that disappointed.”

  The cryptic way she issued the comment prompted me into silence again. We exchanged a glance before both of us looked away, entering another period of quiet I felt apt to recognize this time. The road stretched out for several miles, running parallel to the coast. Fishermen nodded at us as we passed and once I settled into the ride, I lost myself toward appreciation of the scenery. In the distance, ships sailed into the harbor, the air carrying the scent of rain with clouds rolling in from the sea. It wasn’t until we ascended another hill leading eastward that I felt the first drops of rain hit my face.

  “We’re almost there,” Jane said, breaking the silence at last. She glanced at me as I peered heavenward. “Perhaps it’s time we picked up speed.”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” I said. In unison, we dug heels into our horses’ sides and gripped on tight to the reins. Tempest galloped in tandem with her equine compatriot, leading me to the idle thought of how often she gave Paolo’s gelding less cooperation. By the time we wove around to the top of the hill, the noble lady and I had been drenched from head to foot, and our mares along with us.

  Jane led me to a cottage and took shelter with me in a small stable which had been constructed against the side of the house. Tempest shook her mane. I laughed as I lowered myself from her back and tied her reins to a hitching post. “Bloody animal. We’re not much better off than you,” I said, patting her neck before letting go of her completely. I walked up to Jane and offered her a hand, helping her to alight from her own steed.

  “They need to voice their discontent one way or the other,” Jane observed while lowering the hood of her cloak and shaking out her hair. She took a deep breath and pointed at the small house before us. “My secret hideaway,” she explained. “My father’s father built it to watch the ships sail into port. He wanted to travel, but never had much chance.”

  “A pity, that.”

  Jane regarded me with a raised eyebrow when she noticed the words had been genuine. I mirrored the gesture and followed along with her until we entered the cottage and stepped into the main room. “Light the hearth, rogue,” she said, pulling off her riding gloves and unfastening her cloak. “Maybe we can get dry before the journey home.”

  “If the rain favors us with letting up by then,” I said. Walking closer to the cold hearth, I knelt beside it and frowned. It had plenty of kindling available, and spied an ample amount of firewood stacked beside it, but as I freed myself the burden of Jane’s knapsack, I recalled my tinderbox had been left behind in my satchel, my instructions having been only to fetch Lawrence’s spell book. “I assume this means you have some flint somewhere.”

  “Cheating, are we?”

  Her question caused me to peer up at her and furrow my brow. She nodded toward the firebox. “I thought you a pyromancer,” she explained. “Light the hearth.”

  “As the lady commands,” I said, mirroring the amused smile I saw spread across her lips. Jane turned her back to me and I directed my focus toward the dark pit, pulling off my gloves and drawing a deep breath in preparation. My hands extended outward, and softly I spoke speaking the words Lawrence’s book contained, aware that the spell had become an old, familiar friend already. As such, it came as no surprise when a flame rose from the midst of the kindling, consuming a small patch of brush, but failing to ignite the logs in the process.

  I narrowed my eyes and fixed my gaze on the fledgling fire. Reaching out to it with every measure of my being, I pressed it more into existence and jumped when the hearth roared into life. A bark of surprise sprang from my mouth, produced as I fell backward and crawled a few paces away from the sudden inferno in front of me. Jane laughed and dashed for the firewood, plucking a log from the pile and tossing it onto the pyre. “Rogue, I said light the hearth, not the whole cottage,” she said.

  Nervously, I chuckled, settling only when the fire died down to a manageable size. Jane glanced at me, and I grinned coyly at the bemused expression on her face. “I believe I might have overdone it,” I said.

  “You’re a fledgling in need of control. At least you didn’t endanger us both.”

  “This much is true.” My eyes stole back to the hearth, watching the flames I had summoned lick over the logs and settle into a steady burn. Lifting myself up, I settled into a crouched position on the balls of my feet. Something inside of me swelled with pride, as though beholding the closest thing I would ever have to a newborn child. Jane stood beside me while I ran my fingers through my drenched hair. “How do we have the ability to do something so remarkable?”

  “Remarkable or destructive?” We regarded each other again, her expression still bearing a hint of humor. She nodded toward the knapsack. “Bring that over to the table. We’ll light a few lamps and eat first before we get started.”

  “As you wish, milady.”

  Rising to a stand, I lifted the bag with me and carried it over to where Jane indicated. She nodded, giving me silent permission to sit while she drifted toward the far side of the room, where a trunk had been situated against the wall. Lady Cavendish bent to open it, digging through it for supplies before shutting the lid. “Your first lesson will be control,” she said, waiting until she had my attention to offer a knowing grin. “It seems it’s become a necessity.”

  For as much as I wanted to bristle at the quip, I found myself smirking at it instead. “You said I was a fledgling,” I countered.

  “And I’d like not to die before you become a novice.” Jane strode back toward where I sat and handed a candle to me. As she took a seat across from me, she arranged several others into a collection of brass holders and placed them in different corners of the table. An empty holder sat idle in the center, and Jane pointed at the charred wick of the one I held. “Now, concentrate on the size of the flame,” she said. “We’ll light these first before we have you attempt one of the lamps.”

  “Very well,” I said, nodding. Another deep breath passed through my lips, my eyes squinting at the wick while I began to murmur the spell. Jane leaned forward before I could finish it, however, stopping me when she pressed a finger against my mouth.

  Glancing at her, I raised an eyebrow. She smiled. “You didn’t need the spell to cause the fire in the hearth to grow. Remember, this is your natural element. Speak to it from your heart.”

  The direction confused me enough to cause me a moment’s pause. Jane nodded at the wick and I shrugged while focusing on the candle again. Everything else in the room ceased to matter, my entire attention being taken up by the item in my hand while I thought about fire, willing it into life. I thought of each time I had effortlessly turned a spark into a flame, and this time, rather than speaking words from a book, I heard my own voice in my head. ‘Come now. Show yourself. You’ve cooperated with me in the past, now behave for me again.’

  Slowly, a flame sprang into existence, stopping once it had engulfed the wick altogether.

  “Much better,” Jane said, exten
ding a hand to take the candle. I passed it to her, watching as she settled it into the empty holder and sat back in her chair. She pointed around at the remainder of the collection, the curl of her lips possessing a dare. “Now, let’s see you light the rest of these.”

  With a nod, I lifted both hands and held them aloft, focusing on the candle nearest to me. The tingles I had experienced other times surged through my veins once more, my eyes dancing from one wick to the other while the words I used to coax each flame diminished into nonexistence. Jane watched the symphony of fire that I directed, and chuckled at my expression when I made eye contact with her again. The firelight cast a glow across her face I was certain she saw reflected back on mine.

  For the first time since we departed from my town, I relished being able to share the moment with her.

  We both stood and wandered around the room together, walking from lamp to lamp with me repeating the process anew each time. Lady Cavendish would point at one and once I had it lit, moved onto the one following until we paused by the last one and lingered near it. Jane’s gaze bore a dare in it, not a word spoken, but the gauntlet taken by me as I flicked a quick glance at the lamp and looked away again. In my periphery, I watched light burst forth from within its sconce and directed a broad smile at her reaction.

  “Now you’re showing off, rogue,” Jane said. She shook her head. “Hardly becoming on you.”

  “I thought plenty of women found that trait desirable,” I countered as we drifted back toward where we had been sitting.

  “You men all think that and we simply don’t argue otherwise.” At the same time, the way she peered over her shoulder at me bore sultry undertones to it. Jane nodded at the knapsack left discarded near my chair. “Take out our food and Lawrence’s book. If you want to learn something worth boasting about, then we’ll get started.”

  “As the lady wishes.” Nodding once at her, I continued to the table and hefted the bag on top, pulling out the cloth-wrapped meal and tome it contained before setting it back down. It took a matter of moments for us to consume our bread and far less time after that for us to open the book and page through it. I chewed idly on an apple while Jane flipped to the beginning, forcing us to commence our studies there.