Ley Lines

by Lisa Lowell

  “Do you have a place to drive him in mind?” Accordingly Vamilion conjured a large scroll of map and a simple wooden table into being and unrolled the parchment to survey it. Unlike maps of other places, the Land had so few settlements no one bothered to mark the human habitations on this one. Instead this loose sketch, mostly Vamilion's exploratory work in the mountains showed three things: geological forms, bodies of water and ley lines. The lines where magic arched all across the Land, spread like hoarfrost over the geographic features.

  Owailion peered at it. “Where did you find your Queen?”

  “In a village here, on the edge of the Demion forest on the west side of the river where it meets the plains. Halfway between the Vamilion mountains and the Great Chain. Inconvenient, that,” he muttered as he put his finger on the spot midway between the two mountain ranges on the Don River.

  “And this is what attracted him in the first place.” Owailion traced the green line that arched across the map without regards to the geographic features. The magic in these rivers of power must have been attractive to Outlander sorcerers like Soul Eaters who must tap into the power that way. Indeed it lured sorcerers and demons alike to the Land, which held more than its share of untapped magic and the ley lines spread like faults in the surface where the magic welled up to tempt them. “Where should we drive him if we're going to cut him off from the ley lines?”

  “Toward the plains I suppose, though I won't be able to move ahead of them,” and Vamilion slid his finger northwest out into the open spaces between the two rivers where the ley lines petered out.

  “Or up into the mountains west of the lake no one has named,” Owailion moved Vamilion's finger farther to the northwest. “This is where we'll have control.”

  “That's a long way,” Vamilion commented, trying to not think of the thousand mile journey he was proposing. “You'll be the only one who can protect her. I can't go that far from the mountains.”

  “Both have their advantages: we get him so far away from the coast so he won't have a quick escape or access to ley lines. One of the reasons I was willing to come to meet you here is what I've foreseen approaching. Your Soul Eater is just the first in a series of waves. There's a second push of ships in a few weeks, sailing from the west and then a third coming overland from the southeast. They'll be here in a few months and we need to be ready. It would be nice to have a third magician up and trained when they come.”

  Vamilion straightened up from the map and arched his back, as if this news had stiffened him to stone. He wondered again how Owailion could be aware of these things beyond the Land. It was the one skill his mentor refused to teach him and he wondered if the King of Creating thought him incapable of seeing from afar.

  Instead of worrying over that trivial problem, Vamilion focused on the immediate need. “Where will the ships land?” he asked as he dealt with a rising sense of panic. He wouldn't be able to help Owailion face magical invaders and still keep his distance from Gailin over these two new threats. It wouldn't be possible, but he was sworn both ways: protect the Land and protect her.

  Owailion just shrugged. “No idea. I'm keeping an eye on them and it seems the ships are coming from Malornia, and the overland wave is from Marewn and Demonia together. These waves are coming so fast they must be in collusion. And your hunter is at the heart of it. I suspect he's their forward scout.”

  Vamilion took a steadying breath. “Well, it cannot be helped. Let's see if we can kill the soul-eater first and train the queen before we have to confront a full invasion. I just wish there wasn't so much open and tempting land here that they want.”

  “It's not the Land, boy, it's the magic. Outlanders see how we use the magic and assume they can tap into what we have. They're wrong, but you cannot convince them of that. They will always want what they cannot have.”

  Chapter 7 – Strategizing

  Gailin looked through the book with wonder. In a matter of a few weeks she had written more on the human body than she thought she would learn in a lifetime. She had filled nearly half the book with detailed drawings of the body they had dissected. Also she took the time to actually write out a page for each of her favorite herbs and included drawings of the plants, seeds and combinations that seemed to work best. Gailin felt much healing detail still eluded her, but with all this work in one secure place, ready to access, she had never felt more empowered to help heal others.

  However, when she applied what she had learned to her ailing grandmother, she immediately felt helpless again. The old woman continued to fade. Her brain seemed to drift, blending dreams with wakeful understanding. When she was conscious, Grandma seemed to think Gailin was a little girl again and would chastise her about keeping her hair tamed, or her hands clean. When Grandma caught sight of Drake about the house she became agitated, grumbling about strange men stealing from them.

  Drake didn't comment on these accusations. Indeed, he seemed unfazed by anything that happened as they worked. He was tolerant of Gailin's need to tend the garden or when she asked him to run to the village for something since she dare not yet set foot there, lest she be recognized and the witch hunt begin again. Drake willingly slept on the floor, brought in wood, lugged water and put up with her experimental cooking. However, Gailin's suspicions remained hovering and she rarely wrote in her book when he was about, especially when she was writing to Vamilion. She wanted to practice her magic as much as her medicine but she still dare not attempt anything toward invading his mind. The thought chilled her.

  Then, two weeks after Vamilion had left her, Gailin felt a prompting to look at the book. No name magic drove her to do this, heedless of her captor nearby, so she waited until Drake had gone to town to trade her harvested beans and berries for more of her healing spices. Then she snatched up the book to read Vamilion's message in the back of her precious messages.

  “How do you fare?” was all he had written but she could have wept for the caring, for nothing so gentle or concerned came from Drake to ease her mind.

  “Well enough,” she wrote back. “Is there any word of Jonis?” She didn't want to admit it, but she missed the interaction with her farmer friend, or anyone for that matter. Working with Drake almost sucked the enjoyment of talking out of the room. He was so unemotional, almost cold and his personality only served to remind her that he was a sorcerer, unable to love anyone but himself.

  “I'm afraid no one has seen him. I went to his farmhouse that you showed me and it appears abandoned. He didn't finish his pruning and that should have been completed weeks ago. I'm sorry to say he's probably a victim of this Drake, though we'll never be able to prove it.”

  Gailin tried not to cry, but she probably knew this already and hadn't wanted to admit it to herself. She didn't write her next comment immediately and when she did, she changed the subject completely. “I've learned a great deal about healing and …and I think I can heal with my touch now. My grandmother's bed sores are almost instantly cured, the moment I find them. I don't think I'm actually curing her but it is magic and I don't have to concentrate on it so much as it just happens.”

  “That's how I am with stone,” Vamilion's reply emerged with a strong stroke of his pen. “I just hold it in my hand and I know its makeup, where its flaws run and how to break it open. It is part of me being the King of the Mountains. And you are the Queen of Healing.”

  Gailin thought about that and the idea gave her a shiver of pleasure. She had already known her gift before she ever had touched the Heart Stone. Then she wrote further, “I assumed Wise One gifts were within nature, rivers and mountains and such.”

  “Not necessarily. Owailion's gift is to create machines and processes. He's a designer and a builder much like you are a healer. It's a fine gift. And speaking of Owailion, he's come to help us with Drake. Do not be surprised when the snake comes home and announces that you will have to leave soon. Owailion is going to be in the village asking questions, stirring suspicions. We want your sorcerer to feel nervous and
want to leave. When he suggests this we want you to prompt him to head northwest, out onto the plains.”

  “Alright, but can I ask why?”

  “I can try to explain. Magic energy is everywhere in the world. As Wise Ones we draw from the earth itself, which is why we really don't have limits on what we can do, short of the Heart Stone's moral limitations. However, other magicians out in the other countries cannot get their power from the earth. Some need to be possessed by demons which are basically evil versions of Wise Ones, able to tap into almost limitless magic inherently. Then there are other types of sorcerers who need to connect into ley lines. These are like rivers of magic where the power has come close to the surface and these magicians can perform their spells only when they are near one of these rivers. Drake is one of these. We hope that he will follow you and move away from the ley line he's been using here and become weaker because of it.”

  “Won't that make me weaker too?” Gailin asked.

  “No, not in the least. Wise One power does not depend on ley lines. The only reason I'm even aware of them is because of my affinity to stone. Where the stone has borne a river of magic like a ley line, I can sense that and I have mapped those phenomena out of curiosity until I was able to tie these ley lines to where sorcerers had invaded the Land. They instinctively followed these lines to keep themselves magically charged. Drake will resist shifting away from them because he's moving into a void empty of them. He'll have to reveal his magic to move you back toward them or he'll go with you to the northwest away from them because he won't want to lose you.”

  “Lose me? He's practically my slave right now. He's fetching for me in the village as we speak.”

  “Yes, and that's another advantage of this. We cannot continue to risk him feeding on others. He's a Soul Eater. You saw that in your dream. He needs to absorb the souls of the dying…or ones he kills for himself in order to remain alive physically, just as he needs the ley lines to remain alive magically. Up until now he's done well enough without new souls because he's been with you. We don't want to stop that until you are far enough away from other people so that they aren't in danger of becoming his next meal.”

  This puzzled Gailin and she wrote, “How has he been surviving since he took me?”

  “He's been feeding off you. It sounds awful, I know, but since you're a Wise One you are able to replenish without even noticing how you are tapped into the lifeblood of magic. Essentially you live forever because you are part of the magic of the world. And he's feeding on you.”

  Gailin shivered in horror, but she also inevitably felt her heartstrings tugging her toward something more important than her own life. “My grandmother?”

  She could sense Vamilion's hesitancy about this touchy subject. He must already realize how much Gailin loved her only living relative and that would be a priority, even above saving her own life. Still, he did not hesitate to state what must be done. “She would be safer left behind. Would you trust one of us, Owailion or I to watch over her until….until this is finished? She will only be another target if you can talk Drake into leaving here and taking her with you.”

  For the longest time Gailin thought about her dilemma. She did not want her grandmother to end up as one of those horrible trapped souls she had witnessed in her tour of Drake's brain. However, neither could she feel good about leaving her grandmother behind. And physically her grandmother could never endure a trip anywhere, even in the gentlest wagon. Gailin also knew she was fighting a losing battle trying to keep her grandmother's flickering flame alight. Eventually the old woman would die, no matter how many healing and magical skills her granddaughter could acquire. Taking Drake away from here, leaving the old woman safe could be the best prospect for survival.

  “Very well,” she wrote regretfully. “But I want you to be the one to stay behind with her. You, I know…after a fashion and Owailion, I don't. From what you've told me, he's not a patient person…and you have to be to tend the dying.”

  “Then you've not been able to help her with your new gifts? I'm sorry. It is the way of nature and the Heart Stone will not allow you to interfere with it. You will find that sometimes there simply is no answer.”

  Gailin knew exactly what he meant before she wrote, “Like you and Paget?”

  “In precisely the same way. My waiting is simply longer than yours. No, it's a good thing that I stay behind to watch over your grandmother. Owailion will be able to train you face to face once we have dealt with this Soul Eater. Tell him everything you learn about Drake, in your dreams and your other impressions. The answers will come to you more than to us.”

  “Then can I say, I don't think Drake has emotions. He has been here for days and never has initiated a conversation to get to know me or tried to be friendly. I am just another tool and this is not his home, just a laboratory to him. He has interests but he tries to keep them hidden from me: eyes, voices, necks, these fascinate him in a terrifying way. It is disturbing.”

  “Disturbing,” Vamilion confirmed. “Now, how is your progress at getting past his shields? Has he suspected any magic from you?”

  “Not that I've seen. I use so little: warming the creek when I bathe, magically putting my drawings in the book rather than doing so by hand. That reminds me; he cannot read our language. He said something about a spell, a language spell. If you do not intend to stay here in the Land, you may learn our language but you have to study it? Well, he has no intention of staying and so he cannot read our words. He said he was a trader; that he set up connections to make trade with other lands possible, but that the Land was too newly settled and that we had nothing to trade.”

  Gailin again garnered a sense of Vamilion's appreciation of this information, as if he were infusing words on the page with his pride in her work. “Interesting, I knew of the language spell. The Queen of River's doing before she died. It's subtle and few people who immigrate here realize they are speaking words they never technically learned. It's also an excellent way to recognize someone who is not coming to settle. Even if they study the language, their accent will give them away. Good, keep learning about him. Now, how should I treat your grandmother?”

  Gailin chuckled to herself and then wrote carefully, “Not with any of the plants that you added to my book. You'll poison her and be up on charges of murder. I'll leave detailed instructions under her pillow when we leave. Speaking of which, how is Drake going to suggest we move? You said he would probably be willing to admit he's magic in order to leave quickly.”

  “That is the hope. Now….is he returning? I can feel him. Is he near?

  Gailin closed the book without replying, threw the precious record unceremoniously on the bed and went about fixing lunch as if she hadn't ignored all the weeding she had intended to do that morning. Her garden was really taking off and she needed to stay ahead of it but if they would be leaving….well that changed her plans and she wasn't going to worry about it now. Instead she spread out her senses to hear if her nemesis truly was returning.

  Chapter 8 - Confrontations

  When he wanted to, Owailion could be downright scary. The wave of power he pushed up the river path and against the forest unnerved the animals and set the village babies crying before he even arrived in town. The disguise he chose, however, was anything but frightening. He came magically appearing as Jonis, dressed the way Gailin had remembered him, striding into town as if he hadn't been away for weeks. He deliberately hovered at the village market, buying vegetables and purchased an unworked leather skin to put them in and use later as if he might be patching his boots with it. The farmer's face was familiar to everyone and he returned many greetings, but didn't engage in any conversation. He wanted to be seen, to spook the Soul Eater. Had the dead arisen to accuse him? The question lingered in the summer air.

  And Drake on his errand for the Queen of Healing obviously knew something was amiss. Owailion sensed him fluttering against his shields and then retreating. Drake might have caught a sneaking look from around
a building corner and recognized the face of his murder victim. Owailion decided then to stroll toward the northern edge of town, walking for all the world like he wanted to go visit his friend Gailin. Drake must have fled like the hounds of hell nipped at his heels, for nothing else confronted Owailion's magic that washed like a sea wave over the area. Let the sorcerer get to the house and make his plans. Meanwhile Owailion, disguised as Jonis, sat in the summer shade of the forest along the pathway, ate his purchased lunch and began converting his leather into something useful, like a whip. Owailion always liked to have something at hand on which to work.

  * * *

  Even though she knew Drake was coming, Gailin jumped a little when the door slammed open. She almost dropped the pot she was carrying to the fire when he burst in and surprisingly said her name. “Gailin, we've got a problem.”

  She had at first expected panic from him, but then realized a man like Drake, with so few true emotions, would not feel fear or even urgency, no matter what prompted him to return so quickly. He still carried the beans she had sent with him and none of the spices she needed. Instantly she knew where his concern would focus and it came out of her mouth before she had a chance to think about it.

  “They know I'm here?” she asked, letting herself feel the panic that would have engendered in her naturally.

  “Yes,” Drake said frankly, lying with his serpent's tongue. “We'll have to leave or they'll come get you again.”

  “We? You're offering to go with me? What about my grandmother?”

  “We'll find someone to watch over her, but you must go now, before sunset. They're going to come for you and this time they'll burn you at the stake.” Though Drake's words seemed frantic, his voice remained emotionless as he walked over to the clothing chest and began pulling things out of it. He gathered flint and steel, a frying pan, spoon and knife, making a pile in the middle of her bed while she stood there watching him, unable to move.