by C. A. Szarek
“Cousin, I think you put too much stock in your skill.” Avery’s voice was quiet and he squeezed her hand again. “Do you really think you could have changed anything?”
She should’ve been hurt by the words, but she was numb.
“I should’ve been there,” she protested, but her energy was suddenly gone.
“No, Cera, then you’d be dead, too,” Jorrin said.
“Maybe that would be for the better. Then he’d still be puzzling over how to use the damned thing.”
She cast the sword to the ground.
Trikser wuffed softly and left her lap to inspect it.
Jorrin knelt in front of her. He cupped her face and forced her to meet his eyes. “No . . . if you were dead, he’d find some other way to override the spell. There is always more powerful magic. And if he hadn’t killed you, you’d probably be wishing you were dead now. No, Ceralda Ryhan, too many people value you.” He drew her into his arms.
Cera buried her face against his neck. She wrapped her arms around his waist and felt him pull her even closer. She closed her eyes as she inhaled the pleasant mixture of Jorrin’s clean scent and leather. Fighting tears, she swallowed against the lump in her throat, but quickly lost the battle when Jorrin started making comforting circles up and down her back, rubbing with just the right amount of pressure.
The first sob slipped out, then the second, but he only held her and let her cry as her body shook against him.
****
“What I don’t understand,” Jorrin remarked sometime later, “is why the king didn’t do anything to prevent this. And why didn’t he send an army to Greenwald?”
“Ah . . . I have an answer for you,” Avery said as he groomed Valor. “Varthan may not have magic of his own, but his shades are the most powerful human mages on the continent. Believe it or not, some work for him willingly. He knows they have a gift and offers them training. In return, they are indebted to him for a time, but they usually stay in his service out of some demented sense of honor. It’s rumored that he has them trained by even more powerful mages than they are . . . elfin mages. Many other shades though . . . they never had a choice. For them, there’s nothing else. No other way to be.”
Jorrin shook his head. It disgusted him to think that any of his mother’s race would assist a madman like Varthan.
“It’s the darkness that makes them stay.” Cera’s tone was quiet. “They can’t break away. Dark magic makes them hungry . . .”
Avery nodded.
Jorrin looked from one to the other. The family resemblance was obvious. They had the same gray eyes. Avery’s hair was several shades lighter than Cera’s red, and it curled more than his cousin’s.
Avery was young. He’d confessed to Jorrin he was a few months shy of his eighteenth birthday, and he was tall—almost his own six feet three inches. And though he was somewhat lanky, he probably had girls all over Tarvis flocking after him.
“What does obsession with dark magic have to do with the siege on Greenwald?” Jorrin asked.
“The power of his mages has everything to do with it. Varthan isn’t stupid. Wouldn’t life be simpler if he was?” Avery mused. “Unfortunately, evil people are often intelligent, and Varthan is no exception.” When Jorrin smirked, he continued. “Magic is stronger when performed in a group, correct?”
“Well, yeah.” Jorrin sighed.
Spit it out, kid.
“The night of the siege, Varthan got all of his shades together and cast a large shield, a bubble if you will, over the capital city, over the castle . . . everything.”
“Over all of Terraquist? Couldn’t King Nathal’s own mages do anything about it?” Jorrin asked.
“They could cast inside, but anything they threw at the bubble bounced back.”
“They got zapped with their own magic?” Jorrin gasped.
“Yes, but it was gone the next day. Investigation yielded nothing. Perhaps they thought a powerful mage was experimenting and it was a side effect.” Avery frowned, shaking his head. “Then they got word of what happened. The king was frantic.
“They left Terraquist that very evening, the king himself leading his best knights and their men, along with his most powerful mages. But when they got to Greenwald, Varthan and his mages cast the bubble spell again, but this time it was to keep something out. A few of King Nathal’s mages were injured when they tried to dismantle the shield at Terraquist, but they tried to get in anyway . . . nothing worked.”
Cera shot a glance to her cousin. “But I was in Greenwald then . . . how?”
“The wall was virtually invisible, and even though you didn’t know it, you passed through it. And when Varthan fled to go after you, he let it fall. He also left in secret, before the king and his men entered Greenwald, and then Castle Ryhan. Mother sent me to find you, so I don’t know what happened after I left.”
“But how were we able to pass through?” Jorrin asked.
Why hadn’t his magical senses picked anything up?
He’d always been able to tell when there was magic around him.
Always.
How the hell had he missed something as large—and as serious—as a spell covering a whole Province?
“The shield over Terraquist was designed to keep something in. I’m sure people entered the city when it was up, but they couldn’t get back out. The shield over Greenwald was made to keep something out, which is why you were able to leave. If you’d tried to return to the Province, you wouldn’t have been able to. Movement through the shields differed because of the nature of each spell.”
“Aunt Em saw all this?” Cera asked.
“Actually—” Avery blushed. “I figured out the nature of the shields, but yes, Mother saw everything.”
She nodded and chewed her bottom lip.
“You really don’t fear for their safety?”
“Not right now. Father will hold the castle with his personal guard. There are no stronger men in the entire Province. Mother saw Varthan coming. She sent me to find you because she needs you to come to Tarvis. Varthan is using them to draw you and the sword.”
“Bait. And since he wants her to come, he definitely won’t set up a shield to keep her out,” Jorrin said.
Avery nodded. “Varthan is still planning to kill King Nathal and take over the kingdom. If he succeeded, he’d kill the remaining Dukes of the Provinces, my father included, and possibly their heirs.” He pointed to his chest, then to Cera. “And though he needs you to handle the sword now, I’m sure as soon as he disposes of the spell, he’ll dispose of you.” He winced.
Cera nodded, her eyes misty, and Jorrin’s stomach jumped. He couldn’t abide her tears.
“I’m pretty sure—and Mother agrees with me—in order to break the spell on the sword, Varthan’s mages need you to be holding it when they attempt the counter spell. I’d hoped we could try to break the spell ourselves. Unfortunately, I have no idea what spell would do it. I’ve looked in many spell books—even ancient texts, researching—but I’ve come up with nothing. I don’t think anything I could write would work, either, since I don’t know what Uncle Falor’s spell contained.” Avery’s shoulders slumped and he sighed.
“What do we do now?” Jorrin whispered.
“We go to Tarvis, that’s what. Wasn’t that always the plan?” Cera made a fist, her chest rising with her deep breath.
He reached for her hand and smiled when she didn’t pull away.
Chapter Five
They left at sunrise, following Cera’s original route.
Avery argued that if they turned off the westerly road and continued due south, they could make Tarvis in four days, even with stopping for the night.
She pointed out that Varthan might have sent shades out to find them, and if they were to turn onto the main road, they’d be intercepted. And although Varthan was expecting her to arrive at Castle Lenore, if they were caught they’d lose any element of surprise they had.
Jorrin listened to them both, leaning toward Cera’s plan, because she was right about needing any advantage they could muster. He said nothing, and hid a smile from time to time during their bickering.
“I made it in three days,” Avery muttered, just loud enough for both of them to hear as they were tacking their horses and preparing to move out.
“Yes, you may have; but you rode seventy-two hours straight, strapped to your horse so you wouldn’t fall off,” Cera barked.
Jorrin ducked behind Grayna, reaching for his saddle pack to hide his amusement.
“My way was clear and safer.” Avery crossed his arms over his chest.
“Not with shades after us. Discussion over, Avery. We go the way I say, or we don’t go at all.” Cera glared, making a cutting gesture with her hand.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Cera. We have to go!”
“Exactly. So shut up and get on your horse.” Her expression declared an end to the argument as she mounted Ash. He whinnied and Trikser wuffed.
Jorrin could feel her sudden remorse at being rough and saw her caress the stallion’s neck before they tore off to the road.
He sighed.
It’s gonna be a long day.
They caught up quickly, but Cera rode at least ten feet ahead, nudging Ash faster if either of them got too close.
He chuckled and Avery threw him a black look. “So . . . how long do you think she’ll stay mad at you?”
The younger man sighed. “One time, when we were little, I put a frog down the back of Kait’s shirt when we were swimming. She screamed, went under and swallowed some water. She coughed and coughed, but was all right. Cera beat me up, got me in trouble, and then didn’t talk to me for a whole sevenday.”
Jorrin laughed. “Somehow, I can believe that about her.”
Avery gave a small smile and glanced around.
“Don’t worry about Cera, anyway. Her pride was only a little hurt at the thought of you challenging her prowess, I think,” Jorrin said.
He shot him a sharp look. “Prowess? She’s my cousin. I know her a bit better than you do. After all, you have only known her for a sevenday.”
“A sevenday is a long time to get to know someone, sometimes.” Jorrin shifted in his saddle, looking away. Without waiting for an answer, he gave his heels to Grayna’s sides.
The mare bolted forward and soon she and Ash were abreast.
Trikser barked a protest at being nudged over by the bigger animal, but neither horse, nor humans paid any attention.
“Hi, there,” Jorrin ventured, giving Cera a once over.
She was brooding; her emotions positively reeked of it; his magic tingled.
Cera glanced in his direction and their eyes locked.
Jorrin’s heart pounded, his voice caught in his throat. She was absolutely stunning. All thought fled as she flashed a half-smile and he tried not to stare at her full lips. Tried not to remember them moving beneath his.
“Hi, there,” she responded in the same light tone.
“What were you thinking about?” He swallowed a cringe at the crack in his voice.
She cocked her head to one side. “Varthan, mostly . . . Aunt Em and Uncle Everett . . . what we’re going to do when we get to Tarvis . . . the list is a circle that doesn’t end.”
“Those are very dark thoughts. Too dark, in fact, for such a lovely day.”
Cera harrumphed.
“Just trying to lighten your mood. Did it work?”
“Not really.”
“Still angry with Avery?”
“Avery? No, I wasn’t mad at my cousin. I was . . . annoyed.”
“Annoyed? Sheesh . . . I hope you never are annoyed at me like that.”
Cera giggled, and Jorrin grinned. He’d succeeded in lightening her mood, and her laugh made his heart stutter.
“I’m not annoyed with him—anymore, at any rate.”
“Did you hear that, Avery?” Jorrin called. He glanced over his shoulder.
Cera’s cousin was riding closer to them, within hearing distance.
“Yes. Thank the Blessed Spirit,” Avery said with exaggerated relief, allowing them all a small laugh.
****
Trikser made a barking-growling noise Cera had never heard before.
She glanced over from the banter with Jorrin and Avery in time to see him fly like an arrow—disappearing into the woods edging the entire length of the road.
The three of them exchanged a look, and then Cera turned Ash off the road.
“Can you call him?” Jorrin asked.
Cera paused. “I suppose I could shout.” She tried not to roll her eyes.
“I meant with your mind.”
“I can’t. My abilities are limited by distance. Besides, I’ve never seen him do this before. He seemed pretty hyped about something. He probably wouldn’t respond right away, even if he did hear me.”
“But he’s your bondmate.”
“Yes, and sometimes things work as such.” Cera frowned. “Look, I don’t have time—”
“I could teach you.”
“Teach me what?”
“I could teach you to expand your abilities. Even to see through his eyes, as if you were riding beside him while he ran. I’ve done it before, but your influence is too strong for it to work if I tried now. There are spells, as well as simple techniques to widen and deepen your magic—your bond with him. I could also show you how to understand him better.”
“Like words?”
“Not that advanced. It’s possible, but not with a wolf, I don’t think.”
Cera loved Trikser, and though she considered herself rather skilled at communication with him, she’d love to learn more.
When they’d bonded, her teacher hadn’t been the most adept mage. Karolyna had been bonded to Trikser’s mother, though, and had taught Cera all she knew.
“That’s all well and good, cousin, but don’t you think we should find him now?” Avery cocked his head to one side, and gestured toward the woods with his dagger.
Jorrin drew his sword and Cera reached for her own dagger with a nod.
“Back, beast, back I say,” someone shouted as they struggled through the underbrush.
Cera kicked Ash harder, ignoring Jorrin’s shout to wait. She had to stop Trikser from being hurt, or even killed.
She followed the continuing shouts, yanking Ash to a halt when she came to a small clearing. Straight ahead was a bedraggled cabin with smoke drifting from the chimney.
A ragged horse, its ribs showing, was tied to a post outside. The old nag gave a curious whinny, which Ash returned.
Cera swung her leg over the saddle, sliding down his side in a hurried and improper dismount.
She listened hard, not seeing the owner of the shouting voice, nor did she see her wolf. There was a small barn to the left, perched at the edge of the woods. It was in better shape than the cabin.
“Cera . . . what . . . ?” Avery asked from his seat on Valor.
Jorrin dismounted Grayna beside her at the same moment, and she shushed them both.
“Did you hear the shouting?”
“Yes,” Jorrin whispered. “It was over there, I think.” He pointed into the woods to the right of the clearing.
“Stop,” the voice shouted again. “Bring that back, you scoundrel! Thief!”
Trikser ran out into the clearing, something clutched between his strong jaws. His tail wagged wildly, and she received playful thoughts from him.
The owner of the item and voice didn’t follow her bondmate.
Cera stared as he skidded to a stop at her feet. “Trikser, what . . . ?” She shot a look at her cousin when he gasped and dismounted his white gelding.
“Look at that!”
She exchanged a glance with Jorrin, and then followed Avery’s gaze to see what Trikser had dropped at her feet.
Her wolf was very proud of himself and gave a small wuff
as she bent to retrieve it. Cera absently scratched his ear as she tried to determine what she’d picked up.
Trikser leaned into her hand, sitting heavily on his hindquarters.
The piece was about a foot long, and looked like a refined stick. It was light and flexible, and Avery bristled when she shook it, then bent its end.
“Cera, don’t. Do you know what that is?” He snatched the stick from her hand.
“It’s a wand,” Jorrin said matter-of-factly.
“Yes,” Avery breathed, “but I’ve never seen one this . . . this . . . well crafted.” He looked at them, gray eyes full of wonder.
The shouting in the woods became louder, but Cera couldn’t understand the words.
Cursing? What the heck language was that?
Wait.
At least one word was something Jorrin had said at the Dragon’s Lair.
“That’s because it’s an elf wizard’s wand.” Jorrin looked toward the wooded area with wide eyes, his lips parted.
“Really?” Avery asked, turning it over. Green sparks flew when he bent it. He jumped back, yanking his hand away, almost dropping the wand.
Cera snorted. “I thought you said not to do that.”
“Never mind that. Don’t you think we should find its owner?” Jorrin gestured. He glanced at her bond, but Trik only wagged his tail.
“Why?” Avery asked. “If it’s an elf’s wand, shouldn’t we keep it? I mean, I don’t know of any elves around here, do you?” He went on before either could answer, “I mean, whoever Trikser took it from probably stole it.”
Jorrin cocked his head toward the voice that was still shouting. “Since I’m the only one with expertise in that area, I can assure you the cursing from the woods over there—and it is cursing—is Aramourian. Last time I checked, the only beings who speak it with the correct accent—again, as he is—would have to be elfin.”
“Oh . . .” Avery muttered, crestfallen.
Her cousin had always been intrigued with magical items, and he’d have given almost anything to keep the wand.