A Tapestry of Spells

by Lynn Kurland

  “Again, why?”

  “Because I dreamt of books that were on fire. I think I can find them again if I have a map.”

  He sat up so quickly, she almost earned a kink in her neck for her trouble.

  “What?”

  She rubbed her neck and looked at him crossly. “There’s nothing more to it than that and there’s no use in describing anything tonight because you can’t draw a map in the dark.”

  “You vile wench, you can’t leave me with that and no more,” he said faintly. “Besides, the moon is almost full. I could draw quite a few things you could see.”

  “It was likely only a dream.”

  “Or a vision,” he countered. He looked at her, then sighed. “You’re right. There’s nothing to be done about it tonight. But I’ll draw you a map in the morning, then we’ll see whether you were dreaming or not.”

  “And if I wasn’t?”

  He rubbed his hand against her back. “If you weren’t dreaming, then we’ll have a few pages to collect, I suppose.”

  She nodded, then met his gaze. “Do you want me to tell you what else Daniel said tonight, or shall I wait until the morning?”

  He closed his eyes briefly. “Am I going to be happy about it?”

  “Are you happy about any of this?”

  He put his arms around her and gathered her close again. “I refuse to answer that lest it reveal me to be overly sentimental and dispel any lingering fear you have of me.”

  “I don’t fear you.”

  He sighed lightly. “When was it you stopped?”

  “The night you caught up with me in the forest. I bruised you terribly—”

  “You didn’t.”

  “Liar, you still have a mark on your chin. I knocked you flat, yet you did nothing but build me a fire and save my life. I think I knew then that you were a softhearted sap.”

  He laughed, apparently in spite of himself. “You have an appalling lack of respect for my reputation, but I’ll let that pass. Tell me what that fool said before we must needs discuss these more uncomfortable subjects any longer.”

  She shrugged. “He said he knew of a place of power, a hidden place where he would obtain more power. And after that, I think he intends to look for more pages to add to his collection.”

  Ruith was very still. In fact, he was so still that she finally tilted her head back to look at his face.

  “Ruith?”

  He shook his head, started to speak, then shook his head again. “I don’t worry about him finding spells. If Connail couldn’t, your brother won’t manage it. As for the other, that place he seeks, let me think on it whilst I watch over you.” He tightened his arms around her briefly. “May you have a peaceful, dreamless sleep.”

  “I’m sorry that my brother has caused you this trouble.”

  “I fear, love, that your brother is the least of our worries,” Ruith said quietly.

  She wished she could believe that so easily, though she supposed that was preferable to the alternative. If he thought Daniel was only a small, insignificant problem, then what other horrors did he think they would face? She closed her eyes and hoped for sleep.

  She didn’t suppose she would manage it.

  Eighteen

  The day was full of sunshine.

  Ruith stood on the bank of a river and watched the boat bobbing gently there. The river was one that flowed from Tòrr Dòrainn and the boat was one of his grandfather’s.He knew that because the wood whisperedits pleasureat being calledon to carry the daughter of the king and her chilaren, and the river whisperedsweet Fadairian spells as it lapped against the dock. Ruith started toward the end of the pier, but found he suddenly couldn’t move.

  A spell bound him in his place.

  He frowned, then felt a chill slide down his spine as he watched his father step onto that boat, drawing all the light to himself. Ruith’s siblings huddled suddenly together. His elded brother, Keir, drew their mother behind him, as if to protect her. The boat ceased to whisperand the river fell silent.There was nothing in the air but an anxious stillness.

  His father cast off and the boat floated away down the river. Ruith watched it go, trapped on the dock by things he could not best. He would have called out a warning, but he was mute.

  And then he was suddenly no longer trapped, but he stillcould not speak. He found himself flying above his family in the shape of a mighty eagle, crying out to them in his harsh voice, trying to warn them with words they couldn’t understand.

  And then he realized where the river led.

  He shook his head, for it made no sense. The rivers of Tòrr Dòrainn might have flowed north until they reached lower elevations, but then they wended their way around the mountains and south where they gathered with other rivers that turned into mighty waterways that were eventually diverted into lands owned by farmers grateful for even the echo of magic that aided their crops.

  The river he flew above flowed north, up into the mountains, through rugged terrain, until it flowed into a forest. A particular forest that he’d seen before, walked in before, run from before. He knew what lay ahead for his family in that forest, but he could do nothing to stop their progress. Their course was fixed and there was no turning back.

  No matter how loudly he cried out ...

  He woke and found himself standing, holding on to someone so tightly he was half surprised he hadn’t hurt them.

  Only he realized he had.

  He released Sarah immediately, then took her hand and looked at her arm. He didn’t dare push her sleeve up lest it do more damage to her skin than the spell had already done. He drew a knife from his boot and slit her sleeve up to her elbow.

  His fingerprints had joined the black trails there.

  “I’m sorry,” he said hoarsely.

  She shook her head. “I didn’t feel it, truly”

  He didn’t believe it, for there were tears streaming down her cheeks, but there was no point in arguing with her. He cut off her sleeve so it wouldn’t touch her skin, then tucked the material down his boot with his knife. Perhaps there was something there, something buried in the cloth that would eventually tell him what was buried in her flesh.

  His grandfather hadn’t been able to tell. Sgath had tried to heal her whilst she slept, but said there was something in the wound he could not cure. He suggested that once Ruith had the spell that had assaulted Sarah in the first place, he might find the answer. Ruith hadn’t mentioned his own wound, and he knew his grandfather hadn’t noticed it or else he would have said something about it.

  Odd that Sarah could see things Sgath could not.

  Ruith wasn’t sure if Sarah’s scorched flesh had to do with his father’s spells, or his book, or things he couldn’t yet see. All he knew was he was going to have to do something about it very soon or she wouldn’t recover.

  He put his hand lightly on her shoulder. “Daniel first, then we’ll turn the Nine Kingdoms upside down to find a healer who can remedy that.”

  She shook her head. “Too much trouble.”

  “Then we’ll just turn one of the Nine upside down, but we will find a way to see you whole.” He rubbed his hand over his face. “Was I talking in my sleep?”

  She looked up at him, clear-eyed. “You weren’t, but I was sitting in your arms, watching over you after a fashion, and I saw your dreams.”

  He dropped his arm to his side and felt his mouth slide open. “What?”

  “Not that I understood your dreams, of course,” she said. “I simply saw a forest, and a river running into it. That’s when you started to scream, but apparently I was the only one to hear it.”

  I thought you didn’t have any magic was almost out of his mouth before he could stop it, but fortunately his self-control hadn’t left him entirely.

  “You see too much,” he managed.

  “I know.” She paused. “It seems to be growing worse with every league we travel.” She looked up at him. “I’m back to thinking I’m going mad.”

&n
bsp; “If you are, I’m traveling along that long, sloping road with you,” he said with a sigh. He touched her arm lightly. “I’ll help Master Franciscus with the horses, then perhaps you and I will ride on ahead.”

  “After you draw me a map.”

  He nodded, for he hadn’t forgotten. He would have preferred to dwell on the happy pleasure of having Sarah of Doire in his arms, but all he could think about was what she’d told him.

  She knew where pages of spells were.

  And her damned brother was going to go to the well and see what he could have from its innards.

  Ruith cursed silently and thoroughly as he walked away to tend to horses. Daniel apparently knew what he wanted, even if he wasn’t precisely sure how to have it. And if he knew where the well was and what it could provide him, there was no reason to believe he wouldn’t go to Ceangail’s keep itself and see what could be had there.

  Unfortunately, Ruith knew exactly what Daniel would find there. Darkness. Unrelenting darkness and souls wallowing quite happily in it. His mother had suffered her time there only because she’d known her husband might become suspicious of her if she refused to accompany him to his adopted home.

  Perhaps Daniel intended to find the rest of Gair’s book there, then bind it all back together, and attempt to work magic from it. Ruith wasn’t so much worried about what Daniel might do, but he was very concerned what someone more powerful might do if they have that collection of immensely powerful spells in one place.

  Once the company was ready to go, he sent them off and remained behind with Sarah. He squatted down and sketched out a map in the dirt for her. They were traveling along the northwest corner of the forest that sheltered Ainneamh within its magical boughs. Ruith wished he could claim that he couldn’t feel that magic, but the truth was, he could. It was only the faintest echo of song teasing the back of his mind, but aye, he could feel it.

  It was beautiful.

  He supposed he could leave the company to its fate, take Sarah, and beg asylum there. After all Sgath was the son of Ghèillear of Ainneamh. Though King Ghèillear had long since passed from the world, his name was revered and a kinship with him would have been honored. Ruith could have found a corner of the kingdom, built Sarah a house with a weaving chamber for her, a library for him, and an enormous hearth for them both where they could sit in the evenings and speak of the simple things of the day. They would have been free from darkness and the road ahead that led places he knew he wasn’t going to want to go.

  “Ruith?”

  He looked at her, kneeling in the dirt next to him, and had the overwhelming urge to lean over and kiss her. Or ask her to wed him. Or perhaps both, or one right after the other.

  She frowned. “Are you unwell?”

  He had no idea how to answer that. He could only shake his head and look down, trying to remember where he’d been before his mind had wandered off into paths he dared not tread. He couldn’t take her into Ehrne of Ainneamh’s kingdom for two reasons: Daniel of Doìre and monsters that were looking for him alone. He couldn’t bring the latter with him and he couldn’t ignore the former.

  “Ruith?”

  He dragged himself back to the map before him. “This road here,” he said, clearing his throat roughly, “winds past the elven kingdom of Ainneamh—”

  “Does it?” Sarah asked in surprise.

  “We won’t go for a visit if you’d rather not.”

  “I might say something I shouldn’t,” she admitted. “About their terrible beauty or enormous arrogance.”

  He smiled. “You would perhaps be justified—at least in the latter. The truth is, not many manage to cross the borders of Ainneamh and even fewer escape to tell what they’ve seen. Though we could attempt a quick peek, if you wanted.”

  “At this point, Ruith, I would be happy to see anything that wasn’t on fire.”

  He reached out and smoothed his hand over her hair before he thought better of it. He had to do it a time or two more until he had the urge to put his arms around her and never let her go completely under control. He attempted a smile.

  “I’m sorry.”

  She shook her head. “This is my quest. I knew when I set out that it would be difficult.”

  He imagined that was true, but he also imagined that she had, as he had, grossly underestimated just how difficult it would turn out to be.

  He looked down at the map in the dirt and fiddled with the lines for a bit, drawing the road north and west that led first to Coinnich before it wended its way south of Chagailt and caught up with the main road that led from Angesand north to the crossroads. From there, it was a long and difficult journey to Tor Neroche, the palace of King Adhémar, or an easier road could be taken east to the country of Penrhyn where the wine was tart and the princesses acidic.

  Not that he knew that personally. He had traveled as a child, of course, but not after—

  “You didn’t sleep well.”

  He focused on her with an effort. “Forgive me,” he said with a sigh. “I’m not particularly tired. Just lost in thought.” He forced himself to concentrate on the map before him. “We’ll travel north a bit longer, then turn east, skirting the northern border of Ainneamh. The road will become more difficult there as it winds up into the mountains. If we turn north again, we’ll eventually reach Slighe, the crossroads that is, surprisingly, the last village of any size before the plains of Ailean. I suppose if you cared to, you could travel past the Sgùrrach mountains and turn north. Léige is there, the dwarvish kingdom, as well as other places that I’m not particularly familiar with.”

  She looked down at his map. “And that place of power that Daniel spoke of? Do you have any idea where that might be found?”

  He traced the road with the tip of his knife. He watched as that blade wound its way northward from Ainneamh, through the mountains, to the keep of Ceangail. It was a fairly simple journey west to a forest near the grim, unrelenting mountains that had protected his father’s keep. So, aye, he had a rather good idea where Daniel’s destination might be found.

  Would that he didn’t.

  “There is a forest here,” he said, having to force himself to trace and not stab the innocent ground in front of him. “In that forest there is rumored to be a well of power.” He looked at her to find her watching him without any sign of distaste or terror.

  He couldn’t guarantee she wouldn’t feel both if he allowed her anywhere near the place.

  Which, now that the reality was staring him in the face, he would do only if he were too dead to stop her.

  “We’ll scout out a few less dangerous locales first,” he said, fingering the hilt of his knife. “Just to see if they’ve seen him.” Just to see where he might safely leave her behind.

  She studied the map, then pointed to a crook in the road. “There is a barn here. We should see what’s there.”

  He had to force himself to breathe evenly. “Can you see your brother?”

  She shook her head slowly. “Just the pages, and perhaps not even those. I could just be dreaming. I can’t see the ones he has, but I’m not sure why not.”

  He had no answer for that. He couldn’t imagine Daniel was clever enough to bother using a spell of concealment.

  “I’m not sure there are words to describe how much I don’t want to do any of this.”

  He rose and pulled her to her feet. “I imagine every Hero of note said the same thing at one time or another. I don’t blame you for it.”

  And he didn’t. There were, as it happened, no words to describe how much he didn’t want her to come any farther along the road that lay before them. His only comfort was that her road would end soon. He would go to the well, stop Daniel, then go back and fetch Sarah. They could collect the pages in relative safety, destroy them, then move on with their lives.

  She nodded, then watched him silently as he erased the map with the toe of his boot. She didn’t move, though, when he reached for the reins of their horses. He paused and looked at her
in surprise.

  “What is it?”

  She hesitated. “Now that I can see the pages, do we need Daniel?”

  Ruith considered the reins in his hand for a moment or two, then handed her hers. “I think that he still has a part to play in this all,” he said slowly.

  “I suppose you have it aright.”

  He couldn’t blame her for questioning the plan, or for worrying. He had spent his share of time wondering if he was making a terrible mistake.

  But the alternative was to unearth what he’d buried a score of years ago. It was one thing to briefly use magic for the purpose of healing Seirceil; it was another thing entirely to use it to seek out and destroy another human being. He had been faced at every turn with what his father had once been and then become, and he couldn’t set a single foot to that path.

  Nay, he would find Daniel and stop him by normal means. If he couldn’t track and subdue a simple village witch’s brat without the aid of his magic, then the past score of years had been ill spent indeed.

  Nay, he would do it without magic and succeed.

  He had no other choice.

  It was nightfall before they reached the barn Sarah had indicated. They sent the company on to make camp, then stopped on the pretext of needing a bit of horse liniment. Ruith chatted with the farmer as Sarah looked at things no one else could see. The expression on her face was difficult to watch. He would have given anything to have spared her the fear that was plain in her eyes, but he could do nothing for her save hold her when her task was through. If he knew nothing else, he knew that there were some things that one could only do alone.

  She walked into the barn behind the farmer, then paused in front of a tack trunk pushed up against the wall. She looked at the farmer and smiled. It was more of a grimace, which the farmer seemed to notice right off.

  “Are ye ill, miss?” he asked, a worried frown on his brow.

  “Nay,” she croaked. “I’m finding myself ... ah ... called, if you will, by a collection of, er, spells—”

  The farmer’s face brightened immediately. “Ah, a witch’s get, are you?”