A Mix of Magics (Arucadi: The Beginning Book 3)

by E. Rose Sabin

  Gorvy—the man trapped with Ed. No, it didn’t do any good—unless they could free him and Ed.

  The stuff of which the “fountain” was made was a waxy substance. Would fire melt it? The professor had said Camsen the priest could throw fire. Veronica had that talent, but she wasn’t here and Camsen was.

  She rocked Dreama in her arms and bent down as though murmuring comforting words to the child. Actually she whispered to Professor Morence. “Tell the priest to throw fire at the fountain to try to melt the wax. And if it works, tell Abigail to be prepared to heal them if Ed and Gorvy are burned.”

  Kyla had not moved; she must be trying to break Jerome’s power over her, but she could not. But by expending power to keep Kyla in the humiliating position in which he’d placed her, he’d had to allow Marta more freedom. His power was not limitless.

  Jerome’s attention again focused on Marta. “No muttering and whispering,” he ordered, glaring at Marta. “But you never could keep your mouth shut, could you? I’ll have to impose silence on you.”

  A force pounded against her shield of protection. The professor’s thought popped into her mind: He’s sealed my lips shut. I can’t speak aloud. Fortunately he must not know I can send my thoughts.

  She wished she could send back to tell the professor that her shield had protected her. But she had to pretend it hadn’t. She clamped her lips shut and glared at Jerome, who laughed at her. Yet the laughter had a hollow ring. He might know that she was shielded and therefore had to be faking the inability to speak. But he must not know about the professor’s gift of sending his thoughts.

  I’ve relayed your instructions to the Honorable Camsen Wellner, and he’s thinking it over. At least that’s what I presume he’s doing. He hasn’t thrown fire as yet. Abigail also received your instructions, but as yet she has nothing to do.

  So Camsen, the idiot, was holding back, afraid to use the power that could save them. If only Veronica were here! She could throw fire, and she wouldn’t hesitate.

  As though in answer to her wish, Veronica appeared, with Winnie clinging to her arm and looking terrified. They materialized almost on top of Marta. Coincidence? Or was someone helping out?

  “Oh, thank the Power-Giver, you have Dreama!” Veronica said to Marta, thus foolishly issuing a challenge to Jerome.

  Did Professor Morence know that Veronica could throw fire? That particular gift of hers carried with it sad memories that led her not to speak of it. She considered it unlikely that Veronica would have told the Community of that gift, but Kyla might have.

  But as moments passed and no fire was thrown, Marta could only conclude that Kyla had not. She looked, no, glared at Camsen. Winnie gradually released her hold on Veronica and said, “Veronica brought me with her in case Dreama needs me. Do you want me to hold her?”

  “No, we may need your healing talent,” Marta said without looking away from Camsen, hoping he’d understand and act on the thought the professor had sent him. Hadn’t he received and understood it?

  “What’s the matter with Aunt Kyla?” Veronica demanded, going to Kyla, bending over her, and trying unsuccessfully to lift her to her feet.

  “Just teaching her humility,” Jerome said. “Maybe you need a similar lesson.”

  No! Camsen had to act. Now! Marta called out, “For the glory of Ondin.”

  The priest turned toward the false fountain with its trapped occupants, regarded them, his expression sad, almost apologetic. Slowly he lifted his arm and pointed toward the fountain.

  Flame shot from his fingers and struck the fountain. Flame swirled around it. Jerome let out a roar of rage and pointed at Camsen. The priest fell backward and lay still. Had Jerome killed him? If so, Marta had to accept part of the blame.

  Veronica reacted by throwing fire at Jerome. It faded out without touching him.

  “Be careful, Veronica,” Kyla called out. “He’s shielded. You can’t harm him like that.”

  Marta turned and saw that Kyla had lifted her head and risen to her knees. Veronica must have distracted Jerome enough to partially free Kyla. Good.

  “So what was The Honorable Camsen Wellner trying to do?” Veronica demanded.

  “Melt the fountain,” Marta said, abandoning any attempt at secrecy.

  “Oh. Great idea.” Veronica sent a stream of flame arcing toward the fountain.

  “That’s it for you, you little meddler,” Jerome said. He took one step toward Veronica, swung forward as if to take another step, and jerked back as though caught on something. He looked behind him, but nothing or no one was there.

  Again his foot moved forward, and he seemed to try but fail to take a second step. His face reddened with rage.

  Marta gave the professor a questioning look and heard his answering thought: I don’t know what’s happening. It’s nothing I suggested to anyone.

  Could Veronica have caused it? But the girl was concentrating on sending fire at the fountain, careful, Marta noted, to narrow the stream of flame and aim it at those portions of the fountain not directly touching Ed or Gorvy.

  Slowly the wax began to melt. Jerome let out a bellow of rage. “I’ll get you, you little brat. You won’t survive this.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  SMALL VICTORIES

  Ed found it maddening to see what was happening but be totally helpless to lend aid. He rejoiced to see little Dreama safe in Marta’s arms, but what Jerome did to Kyla frightened him. Marta could be next. With Veronica’s arrival he saw Jerome’s attention shift from Marta to the girl. His hope soared, followed by pangs of guilt for feeling relief that Marta would be spared while Jerome punished Veronica.

  That concern was forgotten in an instant as one of the men in the group outside pointed at Ed and Gorvy, and flames shot from his finger and danced around the waxy fountain that imprisoned them. Was this an attempt to kill them?

  The flames stopped as suddenly as they had come. Ed saw the man who had sent them lying on the ground, perhaps dead.

  Only moments later Ed watched Veronica step toward the fountain and launch a stream of fire at the fountain, more carefully aimed than the man’s had been. Hey, fellas, I think they’re trying to melt this thing and get us out. He passed the thought to Petros and Gorvy.

  Hope they know what they’re doing and don’t fry us, Gorvy sent back.

  Looks like Veronica’s being careful, Petros put in. But is it working?

  I think so. It’s getting uncomfortably warm. As he spoke, Ed tried to move his arms, and the waxy substance holding him immobile gave a bit.

  He pushed harder. It’s loosening up, he told his companions. It’s working!

  I’m burning up! Gorvy said. Those healers better be good.

  Ed pushed harder against the imprisoning stuff and felt it give way. A block of it fell, and one arm was free. The flames shifted to another area. Marta thrust Dreama into Winnie’s arms, ran forward, and grabbed Ed’s hand. He pushed and she pulled, and in moments, as the fire stream shifted away from his side, he tumbled free.

  “Get Gorvy out,” he gasped. Sweat poured down him. Marta drew him well away from the melting wax fountain.

  Darnell ran to Gorvy and thrust her hand through the soft wax. Ed watched her worriedly while Abigail fussed over him, finding and healing minor burns. Ed could see that Gorvy would need her far more than he did. Darnell pushed and pulled at the softened wax until she could grasp Gorvy’s arm. She tugged. The flames stopped; they’d done all they could without endangering Darnell.

  Marchion hurried to help her, and the two of them were able to extract Gorvy from the melting wax. “Go heal his burns,” Ed told Abigail.

  Ed expected Veronica to go to Gorvy’s aid too, but she went to the man who’d first thrown fire and knelt beside him. “He’s still alive. Winnie, come help me heal him,” she called.

  Relieved at that report, Marta took Dreama back from Winnie, who then hurried to join Veronica.

  “What—or who—is stopping Jerome?” Ed asked.


  “I don’t know. And neither does Professor Morence.” Quickly, speaking in a low voice, Marta told Ed how the Professor had listed for her the talents of each member of the group. “Gorvy’s a quencher,” she said. “Could he have been able to do that from inside the fountain?”

  Ed shook his head. “I’m sure he couldn’t. It had to be someone out here.”

  “No one out here has that talent. Well, Kyla probably does. I’d ask her, but if she’s doing it, I don’t want to distract her.”

  “I just hope whoever it is, they can hold him,” Ed said, looking around. Marta was probably right. It must be Kyla. She was staring fixedly at Jerome.

  Abigail had Gorvy stretched out on the sand and knelt beside him, her hand on his chest. The redness that had infused his flesh when he fell free of the waxy substance was rapidly fading. Abigail took on the red hue, but only briefly. Soon she rose, and Darnell helped Gorvy to his feet and embraced him.

  Relieved to see Gorvy healed of his burns and heat sickness, Ed smiled at Marta and the baby in her arms. He touched a finger to the infant’s cheek. “So this little girl is ours now?”

  “She is, and we must keep her safe.”

  Yes, they must. It no longer mattered that his memories of first meeting her had been taken from him. The sight of her in Marta’s arms awakened his paternal feelings. This was their daughter, and he would keep her safe no matter what the cost.

  Veronica knelt beside the Honorable Camsen Wellner. She’d felt clearly the pulse in his throat when she’d pressed her fingers against his neck. It was strong and steady, yet now with her hands on his chest she should sense healing taking place, but she sensed nothing.

  Winnie came and knelt on his other side, opposite her. “Do you get the feeling that there’s any healing going on?” Veronica asked her.

  Winnie, too, placed her hands on him. “No,” she said after a long pause. “I don’t feel anything.”

  “Let’s keep trying.”

  Winnie nodded assent, but soon said, “It isn’t working. Could Jerome have taken our power?

  Veronica was still considering that possibility when Abigail joined them. “I don’t have much strength left after healing Ed and Gorvy,” she said. “I’ll use what I have.”

  “It may not do any good,” Veronica told her. “Neither of us can sense any healing happening.”

  “Well, let me try anyway.” Abigail crouched beside Veronica and reached out to put her hands on the priest’s arm. “Oh!” She jerked her hand away as if it had been burned.

  “What happened?” Veronica asked.

  “I don’t know,” Abigail answered, examining her fingers. “I’ve never felt anything like that before. It was like putting my hand into a fire.”

  “Maybe that’s where the trouble is centered,” Veronica suggested. “That’s the arm he used when he threw fire. Maybe that’s where the healing has to be concentrated.”

  “Maybe,” Abigail said, but her dubious tone told Veronica she didn’t believe it. “It didn’t feel like healing. Why don’t you try it?”

  Abigail rose, allowing Veronica to scoot over a bit and reach for the Honorable Wellner’s hand.

  “Be careful,” Abigail cautioned as Veronica wrapped her fingers around the priest’s wrist.

  Flames shot up Veronica’s arm before she could pull it away. She rolled over on the ground and scooped sand onto the flames until they were extinguished. She cradled her badly burned arm with her other hand and arm. “It hurts so bad,” she said, sobbing. “Why did it do that?”

  Abigail was beside her, gently touching the burned flesh.

  “I’m cursed. Ondin has cursed me.”

  Veronica turned her head and was amazed to see the Honorable Camsen Wellner sit up, tears streaming down his face. “I shouldn’t have accepted or used the cursed gift,” he said. “Ondin has punished me for it.”

  “Looks more like he punished me,” Veronica snapped. “I don’t see any burns on you.”

  “Now, now,” Winnie soothed, “be calm, both of you. Veronica, I can see that Abigail is healing you, so you’ll feel better in just a moment or two. And Camsen, I understand your feelings as a priest of Ondin, but I strongly suspect that it was Jerome and not Ondin who cursed you.”

  “Of course it was Jerome!” Veronica said, still feeling snappish despite Winnie’s spreading her mantle of calm. Winnie was right; Aunt Abigail’s healing already eased the pain of the burns, and the flesh of her arm was returning to its normal hue. It would be Abigail who’d feel the pain now, though only for a short time.

  “Maybe Ondin is dealing with Jerome right now,” Zauna put in, nodding toward Jerome, who still remained immobilized though he was clearly struggling to free himself.

  Kyla walked toward Veronica, shaking her head. “It isn’t Ondin. I feel power flowing from someone in the group, but I don’t know who it is. I can’t trace it to its source.”

  “Well, whoever it is should say so,” Veronica stated, gazing around the group.

  “Maybe they don’t know,” Marta put in, joining Kyla and Veronica. “Could it be a newly awakened talent?”

  “That’s possible,” Kyla said. “I’ve suspected that the newer members of the Community may have talents they haven’t yet discovered.”

  Veronica cast a nervous glance at Jerome. “Instead of talking we’d better find who’s doing it, and feed the person more power before Jerome breaks free.”

  “Marta, try tracing the source,” Kyla said. “You’re better at that than I am. I’ll hold Dreama.”

  “Hurry!” Veronica said, barely able to keep herself from shoving her adoptive aunt into action.

  Marta surrendered Dreama to Kyla and moved away. Veronica looked around, craving action, searching for something—anything—she could do.

  Marta went first to Professor Morence. “Professor, can you speak now?”

  He shook his head, and his voice spoke in her mind. Alas, it seems our foe is physically bound but retains his powers.

  “Who are the newest members of the Community?” she asked, as though musing to herself.

  The professor’s answer formed in her mind: Winnie Calder, Renni Natches, and Winter Salas. Marta knew Winnie and Renni. “Winter’s the empath, right?” she asked in a low voice.

  Yes. He’s sitting a considerable distance away from the rest of the group, doodling on a sketchpad, came the disdainful response.

  An empath would be suffering and trying to shut out the rampant emotions flowing from the group. That wouldn’t leave him with energy for anything else even if he had the ability.

  Winnie had been busy healing, so she wasn’t likely to be the binder. That left Renni, assuming it was one of the newer members of the group. That wasn’t necessarily a valid assumption. A long-time member could discover a new talent, especially under great pressure. She couldn’t rule out anyone.

  Marta cast a nervous glance at Jerome. His muscles taut, he strained at the invisible binding that held him immobile. It wouldn’t hold much longer. His face was scarlet with fury. He met her gaze with a stare so filled with hate that she couldn’t repress a shudder. Quickly she looked away, located Renni, and headed toward her. She felt his eyes drilling into her back, his hatred buffeting her. She refused to turn around to meet his gaze but kept her eyes fixed on Renni. The girl was standing away from those clustered near the priest and the healers and idly moving one foot, making circles in the sand. A random motion, or was it some sort of spell casting?

  She hurried to Renni’s side. The girl gave her a startled look. She apparently had been so deep in thought or deep in casting and maintaining a spell that she hadn’t noticed Marta’s approach. If the latter, Marta didn’t want to interrupt her and break the spell. Again she wished she could mindspeak.

  Renni looked down at the circles her foot had traced. “Distraction,” she murmured so softly Marta wasn’t sure she’d heard correctly.

  Distraction? Did she mean that Marta was distracting her? In that case it would
be best to leave her alone and let her work.

  Marta backed away. As she did, Veronica came up to them. “Hey, Renni. I need you,” she said, making no effort to lower her voice. “We need to get Dreama back to the house and get her some milk. And you’re nominated to milk the goat.”

  Marta’s cry of “Veronica! No!” made Veronica aware that Marta thought Renni was responsible for binding Jerome. Veronica was certain she wasn’t.

  “It’s okay,” Renni said quickly, confirming Veronica’s belief. “But is it safe to go back?”

  “Safer than here,” Veronica said. “But we have to persuade Lore to send us.” Although she could probably transfer them herself, she’d expended a lot of power using her fire-throwing gift to free Ed and Gorvy, and she’d expended even more trying to heal Camsen Wellner. Besides, she wanted to talk to Lore away from Jerome and from Aunt Kyla.

  “I don’t trust Lore. Do you?” Renni asked.

  “Keep your voices down,” Marta cautioned. Dropping her own voice to a whisper, she asked, “He may be bound physically, but he can still cause trouble. Do you know who’s binding him?”

  “Not for certain,” Renni whispered. “But by process of elimination, I’ve figured who it must be.”

  “Who?” Marta asked eagerly. Veronica leaned closer to Renni, as eager for the answer as Marta was.

  Renni shook her head. “Jerome’s listening, and I’m guessing he can hear every word we say, even when we whisper.”

  “But we need to know who—”

  “Marta, I figured it out. So can you,” Renni insisted.

  “Then so can Jerome,” Veronica said, growing impatient. “But come on. If you’re not going to tell us, then let’s get Dreama and talk Lore into sending us back.”

  “Wait a minute,” Marta held out her arms as though she could hold them back in that way. “I don’t want you taking Dreama and going off by yourselves. And I don’t trust Lore.”

  “We don’t trust him either,” Veronica said. “We’ll be careful. Dreama has to eat, and there’s no way to feed her in this place.”