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

by E. Rose Sabin

  Marta shook her head. “I know Dreama’s in danger here, but she’ll be in just as much danger back in Kyla’s house. Here I can give her some protection.”

  “But for how long?” Veronica said.

  “I’ll go with them.”

  Veronica hadn’t sensed Ed’s presence until he spoke. He must have been standing right behind her for some time.

  “Oh, Ed! That’s all right then!” Marta said, her objections erased.

  Veronica hid her annoyance that her plan to get Lore away from Jerome and talk some sense into him was ruined.

  But then Ed said, “Lore can go, too. That way, I can come back, and when the girls are ready to return here, Lore can bring them back. Will it be okay, you think, to leave Dreama there with Leah?”

  Veronica guessed that Ed really meant, Is it safe to leave Lore there with no one to keep him in check?

  “I can stay there to help her,” Renni offered as Marta hesitated. “I’m not doing any good here.”

  Renni must have understood Ed’s concern also. She was clever and might be of great help in defending against an attack by Jerome. But she would also be helping to keep Lore away from Jerome’s evil influence.

  “All right, but be sure that Lore returns with Ed,” she said. “Let’s get Dreama from Kyla, and we’ll check our plans out with her.”

  “No, stay here. I’ll get Dreama,” Veronica said and ran to Kyla without giving Marta a chance to object. She’d been keeping an eye on Jerome, and she saw him strain visibly against the mysterious bonds that held him in place. He could break free at any moment.

  She grabbed Dreama from Kyla’s arms. “Good luck with Jerome,” she said. “We’re taking Dreama back home.”

  She ran back to where Marta, Ed, and Renni waited. “Lore,” she called, after handing Dreama to Renni. “Come here.”

  He came. He’d been watching their discussion and also, Veronica guessed, watching for any sign that Jerome was only toying with them, pretending to be bound, and would soon burst into laughter and punish them all.”

  “You can see Jerome isn’t the all-powerful wonder you thought he was. We’re giving you a chance to prove that your loyalties still lie with the Community. Give me your hand.” She reached out her hand.”

  Lore, looking embarrassed and puzzled, took the offered hand.

  “Now transport us back to Aunt Kyla’s house,” she ordered, using her power to supplement his and adding an element of coercion, a power she’d known she had but had kept that knowledge to herself.

  A brief sensation of bitter cold and the two of them stood together in the sitting room of Kyla’s house.

  Ed lingered long enough to hug Marta and kiss her cheek. “I know you’re worried, and I know how much you hate being away from Dreama. Be brave. We have to trust the girls. Leah will keep them in check. And she’ll take good care of Dreama until we can get back to her. Not only that, but here’s a surprise. A man named Petros has been sharing my consciousness and was trapped along with me in the fountain. He’ll be going back with me and going back into his body. So he’ll be there with Veronica and her friend. He’ll be a help to Leah, I’m sure.”

  That unexpected news cheered her a bit. Marta had completely forgotten about Petros. He was clever. He’d be another person to help Leah with Dreama and help keep Lore under control.

  Ed kissed her again, on the lips this time. “I love you, Marta. I’ll be back as quickly as I can.”

  “I know you will. I’m relieved that you’re going with them. They can be so reckless. And I know you’ll keep a close eye on Lore.” Marta reluctantly withdrew from his embrace. “Go now, before I start to bawl.”

  She blinked back tears as he walked away. Ed will see that no harm comes to Dreama. I have to concentrate on the situation here. With that thought, she resolutely set her mind back on the present need to find out who was binding Jerome before that person’s strength ebbed. Why was Renni so certain that Marta could figure it out on her own? There must be something that made it obvious.

  Whoever it was had accomplished something no other member of the Community had succeeded in doing. Since it was the only attempt against Jerome that had had any effect, Marta felt that the best hope the Community had of defeating Jerome was to feed power to the person responsible, thus holding Jerome helpless while they found another way to deal with him more permanently.

  She reviewed what she knew of each member of the Community Kyla might have the power, but she’d said she wasn’t doing the binding, and anyway, rightly or wrongly, she was too preoccupied with other things. Abigail was a spell caster, but she’d been busy healing, as had Winnie. It wasn’t Veronica or Renni.

  Lore? No, or Renni wouldn’t be helping Veronica take him away from this world. Professor Morence could certainly be eliminated. He’d been mindspeaking, attempting in his own way to discover the binder. Gorvy Mack had been in the fountain with Ed, and at the time of Jerome’s binding he was getting the burns healed that he’d suffered from Veronica’s fire. His wife Darnell was hovering over him, so concerned that Marta didn’t think she’d have had the presence of mind to perform a binding spell, if she had that talent, which she didn’t, according to the professor.

  That left—Marta thought carefully—Zauna, the crystal ball gazer; Marchion Blandry, the enhancer; Winter, the empath, and Trille, a singer who used song in her feats of power, which, according to the professor, always involved water. Could he be wrong about her abilities? She and Winter consistently stayed off to the side, apart from the rest of the group. It could well be one of them, and Trille was more likely than Winter, who the professor said had no power other than being empathic, which, since he hadn’t yet learned to shield, was more of a liability than a gift.

  It must be Trille. Marta walked over to where the young woman stood, looking forlorn and uncomfortable.

  As soon as Marta reached her side, she said, “Please tell me what I’m doing here? There is nothing for me to work with in this desert—not a drop of water. I’m utterly useless. And the monster seems to be restrained, so someone’s power is effective. I want to go home.”

  “So—you aren’t using your power to … do anything?” Marta frowned. She’d been so certain Trille was the one she was looking for.

  “No, how can I? Without water to work with, there is nothing I can possibly do.”

  “I’ll see what I can do to help you get home then,” Marta said, understanding the young woman’s frustration all too well.

  If it wasn’t Trille, could it possibly be Winter? Or had she overlooked something? It occurred to her that Renni, too, had probably concluded that Trille was the binder, but she hadn’t bothered to check.

  Marta supposed she should go and talk to Winter. But then another thought came to her. She recalled that Ed had met Claid in the ruined building on this world. Could the Dire Lord be somewhere nearby? He certainly had the power to bind Jerome. And really, it didn’t seem that anyone among the gifted gathered here had that much power. It had been Kyla’s idea to bring all of them so they could pool their power, but they hadn’t done that and weren’t doing that now. Maybe collectively they could overcome Jerome, but separately none of them, including Kyla, had enough power.

  She glanced at Winter. He sat cross-legged on the sand, hunched over his sketchpad just as he had since they’d all arrived here. He seemed to have closed out everything and everyone. Sitting well away from everyone else, his shoulders slumped, his head lowered, gazing only at his drawing, he had isolated himself so thoroughly that Marta doubted he’d seen or been aware of anything that had happened.

  Still, she started toward him. She’d taken only a few steps when she heard a cry that sent her whirling around.

  Veronica ran toward Kyla. Ed followed much more slowly. It was Veronica who had cried out, calling, “Aunt Kyla! Aunt Kyla!”

  Renni and Lore had not returned.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  WIND AND SAND

  Alarmed, Kyla glanced aroun
d as Veronica raced toward her. The girl’s shout had drawn everyone’s attention, including Jerome’s. His head turned to follow Veronica as she skidded to a stop before Kyla.

  His head turned! He hadn’t been able to move at all. The power that held him in check had lessened. The panic in Veronica’s voice and her dash to Kyla must have distracted the person who’d bound Jerome enough to allow him some movement.

  “Look!” Veronica thrust a paper at Kyla. “Leah’s gone. Isham has her.”

  She hadn’t bothered to lower her voice. Kyla took the paper and read it hastily.

  I came for you, Kyla Witch, but no one was here but your friend Leah, so I’ve taken her. I’ll exchange her for you, or I’ll do to her what I wanted to do to you—the same thing that was done to Mayzie. I want your answer by Dora rise. Isham

  Dora rise—the moon would rise toward mid night. Here it was midday, but time ran differently here than back home. She had no way of knowing when it would be the midnight there. Even if she knew the time, how could she return?

  “What did you say about Leah?” a very agitated Abigail demanded, reaching them and grabbing Veronica’s arm.

  “Ouch! Aunt Abigail, you’re hurting me.” Veronica tried to pull free of Abigail’s tight grasp.

  Kyla handed Abigail the note. Abigail read it and burst into tears. “I have to go back. I’ll talk to Isham, offer to trade myself for her. He’s got to release her.”

  “What time is it there?” Kyla asked. “How much time do we have?”

  “It’s midafternoon, but that doesn’t really help, does it?” Veronica answered. “I mean, we don’t know whether time here moves faster or slower or sometimes one and sometimes the other.”

  Loud laughter burst over the area. Jerome strode toward Kyla and those grouped around her.

  He’d broken free.

  Veronica looked up in shock. Jerome was free, and it was her fault! She’d distracted everyone with her yelling, causing Aunt Abigail to panic and Aunt Kyla to divert her attention from Jerome. And whoever had bound him had lost that hold. So how could they go and rescue poor Aunt Leah when Jerome was loose and threatening everybody again?

  Aunt Kyla was screaming at her. Jerome was bellowing now—something about punishing all of them. Aunt Abigail was wailing that they had to go rescue Leah. Veronica couldn’t think.

  “Maybe if everybody just calmed down a bit—” she said, trying to make herself heard. Nobody was listening.

  Aunt Kyla put her hands on Veronica’s shoulders and shook her. “Listen to me! Where is Dreama? Who’s taking care of her?”

  Veronica tried to focus. Dreama. Yes. “We left her with Renni and Petros. Petros is okay now. He said she’d be safe with him.”

  “Safe?” Kyla groaned. “Renni’s not reliable, and Petros can’t take care of a baby.”

  “Where’s Lore?” a man’s voice asked. In all the confusion Veronica couldn’t tell who’d spoken.

  Ed came up beside her then. “He’s going to try to rescue Leah. Said he wants to redeem himself.”

  “And you believed him? You trusted him?” Marta’s voice verged on hysteria. “Kyla, I’ve got to go back.”

  “So do I,” Abigail said. “Right now. Ed, send us back.”

  “Ed, why didn’t you stay and take care of Dreama?” Kyla demanded. “She’s your daughter.”

  “I had to bring Veronica back. I would rather have brought Renni, but she wanted go with Lore to rescue Leah.” He paused when Kyla groaned at that announcement, but when Kyla didn’t speak, he added, “Veronica thought she should be the one to break the bad news to you—and to Abigail.”

  He added Abigail as though she were just an afterthought, but Abigail was growing hysterical, insisting that they needed to return right away. Veronica’s sense of guilt increased. She should have sent Renni and stayed to go with Lore. She had more power than he did and could more easily have overcome Isham. What could Lore do?

  Truthfully, she didn’t know what new powers Jerome might have given Lore.

  Jerome. Why isn’t anyone worrying about Jerome? He’s threatening to kill us all. And why do they act like transferring between worlds is as easy as walking from one room into the next?

  Trille—where did she come from?—was saying, “I want to go back. I can be of more help there than here, where there’s no water anywhere, so I have nothing to work with.”

  No. She’s wrong. She needs to stay here. Before Veronica could say anything, something slammed her to the ground. She lay helpless on her back, feeling as though a great weight was pressing down on her, though nothing was there.

  Jerome had chosen to start his acts of vengeance with her.

  Aunt Kyla gasped. “Veronica! What’s wrong? What happened?”

  What does she think happened? Why does she keep ignoring Jerome? Veronica tried to ask the questions aloud, but she couldn’t make a sound.

  I’m helpless! she thought, trying desperately to move or even to speak. If she could have, she would have burst into tears, but even that was denied her.

  Veronica’s collapse urged Marta into action. She had to do something before Jerome picked them all off, one by one.

  Winnie fell to her knees beside Veronica and placed her hands on her, apparently attempting a healing. But Veronica wasn’t injured. Jerome’s power held her in some sort of paralysis. Winnie could do nothing for her. Marta sensed power flowing from someone near her toward Jerome. She looked around. Gorvy. A quencher, he was trying to quench Jerome’s powers.

  It was like trying to stop a flood with only a few sandbags. She moved to Gorvy’s side, placed her hand on his arm to lend him power. Too late. He sagged, and she carefully lowered him to the ground beside Veronica. Gorvy’s body felt as stiff as a wooden carving. And, like Veronica, his open eyes stared unblinkingly at nothing.

  Marta rose, leaving Gorvy and Veronica to Winnie’s useless ministrations. Remembering that she’d been going to check on Winter when Veronica’s loud arrival deterred her, she almost turned and looked at Winter before stopping herself, lest she draw Jerome’s attention to him. Anyway, how could Winter have bound him?.

  Kyla whispered, “Marta, what shall we do?”

  Jerome heard the whisper. “Do?” he crowed. “Why, my dears, there is nothing you can do. Nothing at all.”

  As if to prove his point, Winnie flopped over on top of Veronica. A short distance from them Professor Morence toppled to the ground beside Gorvy.

  No point in whispering. Marta rebuilt her shield, moved beside Ed to include him in it, and said, “Ed, Dreama’s in danger, and Petros can’t protect or care for her. Take Abigail and … and Zauna. And go. Now.”

  Ed’s frown told her he didn’t want to leave her here with Jerome.

  “Hurry! For Dreama!” Marta prodded, recalling that Ed needed to feel a sense of urgency in order to transport back from his world.

  Abigail had grasped Ed’s arm and hung on as soon as she heard Marta’s plea. Zauna came up behind them and put her hands on Ed’s shoulders.

  “Oh, no!” Jerome said. “I mean to have fun with Simple Eddy. He’s not going anywhere.”

  Marta poured all the power she had into her shield of protection. It had to hold! A force pummeled against it, causing her to stagger.

  Jerome let out a roar of rage and the force increased, doubling, tripling, until she was gasping for breath and sweat poured down her face and arms. Then with a suddenness that jolted Marta the pressure was gone.

  Ed, Abigail, and Zauna were gone, too. As she toppled to the ground her last thought was, Thank the Power-Giver, the shield held just long enough.

  When she saw Marta fall and lie still like Veronica and the others, Kyla felt a sense of despair. She steeled herself, expecting to fall like the others and, like them, lie helpless on the hot desert sand.

  A hot wind blew sand eddies around her feet, reminding her that she was not helpless. She could sing the wind again. Filled with sudden rage, she raised her voice in an angry summoning
song.

  The wind swirled around her, hot and wild. As she poured her fury into it, it matched her anger with its own. Catching up sand, it flung it about, until she stood at the center of a swirling tornado of sand. Someone screamed—Trille, she thought. Someone else was coughing. The sand must be blinding them all and making it hard for them to breathe. The others weren’t important right now. The sandstorm had to affect Jerome as much as it did the others. She could see nothing but the sand roaring all around her. She concentrated on hurling the wind and its burden of sand toward the spot where she hoped Jerome was still standing.

  The wind howled and screamed around her, drowning out all other sounds, but still she sang. Until a voice spoke over the wind and the pelting sand. “Enough,” it said.

  The wind stopped. The sand fell. For a moment she found herself in utter darkness. Then a strange light—neither sunlight nor moonlight nor artificial light—blinded her for a few moments. As her eyes adjusted, she saw that she had been brought to a place she had visited once before, in the company of Alair. At that time the being who now stood before her had been in chains, but he had not been chained for some time. He now looked every bit the fearsome Dire Lord that he was.

  A Dire Lord! One of those dread beings that inhabited the Dire Realms and are often spoken of in frightened whispers. But this Dire Lord was well known to her, although she had known him best in another form. His bearded face smiled down on her from a height well above her own. “Greetings, Mistress Kyla,” he said. “We must talk.”

  She sank to her knees before him. “Lord Claid,” she said.

  He bent, took her hand in his, and raised her to her feet. “Come, Mistress, no need for that. It’s just Claid. I’m still your friend. Though what I must say to you will not please you, I fear.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  SO MANY DEATHS

  Fortunately, Renni knew where Isham lived. Not only did Lore have no idea, but it was all he could do to keep walking beside her while he struggled to shut out the voice in his head. The voice that urged him to do terrible things—and gave him the power to do them.