Spellweaver
Page 1
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-one
Twenty-two
Twenty-three
Twenty-four
Twenty-five
Twenty-six
Twenty-seven
Teaser chapter
Praise for the novels of the Nine Kingdoms
A Tapestry of Spells
“Charming, romantic, and verging on the wistfully sweet, Kurland’s paranormal serves as a strong start to a new series ... Kurland deftly mixes innocent romance with adventure in a tale that will leave readers eager for the next installment.” —Publishers Weekly
“Ruith and Sarah captured my interest from the very first page ... Lynn Kurland’s time travel series might occupy a favored place on my shelves, but I think she truly shines in the Nine Kingdom books. I am beside myself with anticipation of the next book—it’s going to be a long and agonizing wait.” —Night Owl Romance
“Lynn Kurland takes her audience back to the Nine Kingdoms with a strong opening act. Fans will feel the author magically transported them to her realm.” —Midwest Book Review
“Once again [Kurland] uses her gift for place and character to weave an adventurous tale that will have readers breathlessly awaiting the next chapter. Good stuff indeed!” —Romantic Times
Princess of the Sword
“Packed with enchantment, adventure, terrifying battles, and a love so strong that no wizard or mage can affect it ... Beautifully written, with an intricately detailed society born of Ms. Kurland’s remarkable imagination, this is an extraordinary tale for fantasy readers as well as those who just want to read a good love story.” —Romance Reviews Today
“Over the course of this splendid trilogy, Kurland has provided an action-packed fantasy as well as a beautiful love story between characters who respect each other’s talents.” —Romantic Times
“An excellent finish to a great romantic quest fantasy ... Readers will relish Ms. Kurland’s superb trilogy.” —Genre Go Round Reviews
“An intelligent, involving tale full of love and adventure ... If you enjoy vast worlds, quiet love stories, and especially fantasy, I would suggest you give this trilogy a try.” —All About Romance
The Mage’s Daughter
“Engaging characters—family, friends, and enemies—keep the story hopping along with readers relishing every word and hungering for the next installment. [A] perfect ten.” —Romance Reviews Today
“Lynn Kurland has become one of my favorite fantasy authors; I can hardly wait to see what happens next.” —Huntress Reviews
“The Mage’s Daughter, like its predecessor, Star of the Morning, is the best work Lynn Kurland has ever done. I can’t recommend this book highly enough.” —Fresh Fiction
“I couldn’t put the book down ... The fantasy world, drawn so beautifully, is too wonderful to miss any of it. I highly recommend this book, the series, and all of Ms. Kurland’s other works. Brilliant!”
—ParaNormal Romance Reviews
“This is a terrific romantic fantasy. Lynn Kurland provides a fabulous ... tale that sets the stage for an incredible finish.”
—Midwest Book Review
Star of the Morning
“Kurland launches a stunning, rich, and poetic new trilogy. The quest is on!” —Romantic Times
“Terrific ... Lynn Kurland provides fantasy readers with a delightful quest tale starring likable heroes ... A magical beginning to what looks like will be a superb romantic fantasy trilogy.” —Midwest Book Review
“Entertaining fantasy.” —Romance Reviews Today
“An enchanting writer.” —The Eternal Night
“A superbly crafted, sweetly romantic tale of adventure and magic.”
—Booklist
More praise for the novels of Lynn Kurland
Till There Was You
“Expertly mixes past with present to prove that love endures all things and outlasts almost everything, including time itself ... Spellbinding and lovely, this is one story readers won’t want to miss.” —Romance Reader at Heart
With Every Breath
“Kurland is a skilled enchantress ... With Every Breath is breathtaking in its magnificent scope, a true invitation to the delights of romance.”
—Night Owl Romance
When I Fall in Love
“Kurland infuses her polished writing with a deliciously dry wit, and her latest time travel love story is sweetly romantic and thoroughly satisfying.”
—Booklist
Much Ado in the Moonlight
“A consummate storyteller ... Will keep the reader on the edge of their seat, unable to put the book down until the very last word.”
—Para Normal Romance Reviews
Dreams of Stardust
“Kurland weaves another fabulous read with just the right amounts of laughter, romance, and fantasy.” —Affaire de Coeur
A Garden in the Rain
“Kurland ... consistently delivers the kind of stories readers dream about. Don’t miss this one.” —The Oakland (MI) Press
From This Moment On
“A disarming blend of romance, suspense, and heartwarming humor, this book is romantic comedy at its best.” —Publishers Weekly
Titles by Lynn Kurland
STARDUST OF YESTERDAY
A DANCE THROUGH TIME
THIS IS ALL I ASK
THE VERY THOUGHT OF YOU
ANOTHER CHANCE TO DREAM
THE MORE I SEE YOU
IF I HAD YOU
MY HEART STOOD STILL
FROM THIS MOMENT ON
A GARDEN IN THE RAIN
DREAMS OF STARDUST
MUCH ADO IN THE MOONLIGHT
WHEN I FALL IN LOVE
WITH EVERY BREATH
TILL THERE WAS YOU
The Novels of the Nine Kingdoms
STAR OF THE MORNING
THE MAGE’S DAUGHTER
PRINCESS OF THE SWORD
A TAPESTRY OF SPELLS
SPELLW EAVER
Anthologies
THE CHRISTMAS CAT
(with Julie Beard, Barbara Bretton, and Jo Beverley)
CHRISTMAS SPIRITS
(with Casey Claybourne, Elizabeth Bevarly, and Jenny Lykins)
VEILS OF TIME
(with Maggie Shayne, Angie Ray, and Ingrid Weaver)
OPPOSITES ATTRACT
(with Elizabeth Bevarly, Emily Carmichael, and Elda Minger)
LOVE CAME JUST IN TIME A KNIGHT’S VOW
(with Patricia Potter, Deborah Simmons, and Glynnis Campbell)
TAPESTRY
(with Madeline Hunter, Sherrilyn Kenyon, and Karen Marie Moning)
TO WEAVE A WEB OF MAGIC
(with Patricia A. McKillip, Sharon Shinn, and Claire Delacroix)
THE QUEEN IN WINTER
(with Sharon Shinn, Claire Delacroix, and Sarah Monette)
A TIME FOR LOVE
THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP
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Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
This book is an original publication of The Berkley Publishing Group.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
Copyright © 2011 by Lynn Curland.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
BERKLEY® SENSATION and the “B” design are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
PRINTING HISTORY
Berkley Sensation trade paperback edition / January 2011
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Kurland, Lynn.
Spellweaver / Lynn Kurland.—Berkley Sensation trade pbk. ed.
p. cm.
eISBN : 978-1-101-47836-3
1. Magic—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3561.U645S64 2011
813’.54—dc22
2010038743
http://us.penguingroup.com
One
The magic was a mighty wave that rose with terrifying swiftness toward the sky, hovered there for an eternal moment, then crashed down again to earth, washing over everything in its path.
The lad who had been standing at the edge of a glade watched with horror as the wave rushed toward him. He started forward to save his mother from being washed away only to remember that he had another task laid to his charge. He took hold of his younger sister’s hand only to feel her fingers slip through his grasp despite his efforts to hold onto her. He shouted for her, but his calls were lost in the roaring of the evil as it engulfed him, sending him tumbling along with it. He groped blindly for his sister in that uncontrollable wave—
Only to realize he wasn’t a lad of ten winters, but a man of a score-and-ten, and it wasn’t his younger sister Mhorghain he was so desperately seeking.
It was Sarah of Doìre.
And it wasn’t a wave of evil from a well he was running from, it was a terrible storm washing down the hill from the castle that had collapsed in on itself, the castle at Ceangail where his sire had lived for centuries, endlessly honing spells that never should have been created ...
Ruith woke with a gasp.
He forced himself to remain motionless and breathe shallowly, simply because it was his habit. When one had to rely on more pedestrian means of protecting himself than magic, one learned early on to not give an attacker any more advantage than necessary.
It took him longer than it might have otherwise simply because he was still fighting against the memories that flooded back in a rush that was unpleasantly similar to the wave of spell that had overcome him in his dream, and, it would seem, in his waking life. He kept his eyes closed and felt for Sarah’s hand—
Only to realize that he couldn’t move.
But that could have been because he was sitting with his hands tied tightly around the tree behind him. He opened his eyes a slit, then fully when he found that no one was watching him. His companions were none but a trio of rough-looking lads who stood twenty paces away, arguing not over the best way to put him to death, but the quality of his weapons and how they might reasonably poach the same without harm to themselves. He prayed their discussion might go on for quite some time so he might determine where he was and why he seemed to be the only one within earshot who wasn’t talking about his knives. He took another slow, careful breath, then looked around himself.
There was no one else there.
Sarah.
He suppressed the urge to panic. Anything could have happened to her. She could have been lying where he couldn’t see her, or been slain, or carried off beyond his reach. There were any number of mages infesting not only the keep up the way, but now no doubt the woods surrounding the keep, mages who would have taken her and ...
He wrenched his thoughts back from that unhelpful place. He couldn’t rescue her if he were dead, so the most sensible thing to do was get himself free and make certain he remained alive. Sensible sounded so much more reasonable than frankly terrified at the thought of what could have befallen her, which he was.
He quickly assessed his own situation. His knives were both still down his boots and two others were still strapped to his back—not that he could have reached either set at the moment, but he would remedy that as quickly as possible. He also still had his magic, safely buried inside himself in an impenetrable well capped with illusion and distraction that he knew from recent experience was impervious to all assault. Lastly, and perhaps most fortuitously, the lads in front of him weren’t paying him any heed.
He kept those lads in his sights as he focused on his hands, working the rope binding them against the bark of the tree and finding the knots poorly tied indeed. If he had been in the market for potential guardsmen, he would have invited them to tie a knot or two so he might examine their work before entrusting them with anything more complicated than securing a bedroll to a saddle—
The rope gave way without warning. He froze, partly because he didn’t want to reveal what he’d just managed to accomplish and partly because the pain of blood rushing back into his hands was so intense, it almost rendered him senseless. He closed his eyes and concentrated on breathing evenly until his hands stopped throbbing enough that he could think clearly again. And once he could, he turned his mind quickly to how best to escape.
Fortunately, luck was with him. The lads were so involved in their conversation, they weren’t paying him any heed. Then again, they hadn’t paid heed to the mage standing just outside the circle of their torchlight either.
Damn it anyway.
It was Amitán of Ceangail who stood there, watching silently. Ruith held out no hope that his bastard brother hadn’t seen him. He was only surprised Amitán hadn’t already plunged a knife into his chest.
Then again, that might have been because it would have been deflected by a spell of protection Ruith suddenly realized he was covered by. It was, he had to admit, a rather elegant thing, fashioned from Olc—if such grace were possible from that vile, unwholesome magic. He was so surprised to find it there; he could only stare at it in silence for several moments. Given that he certainly hadn’t provided the like for himself, he had to wonder who had. Obviously someone wanted him alive and unharmed.
He wasn’t sure he dared speculate on who that might be.
He supposed he could at least eliminate from the list his half brother, who stepped close to the spell, had a look at it, then swore at him in a furious whisper.
“Don’t think that will save your sorry self,” Amitán hissed. “Once I have what I want from you, I’ll kill you in spite of that rot. And once you’re dead, I’ll find that pretty little wench of yours and have what I want from her as well.”
“But she has no power,” Ruith said, because it was true. Sarah had no magic, and the sooner he convinced everyone within ears
hot of that, the safer she would be.
“You fool,” Amitán said scornfully, “she sees spells. Did you think we hadn’t noticed?”
Ruith didn’t have a chance to respond before Amitán strode out into the light cast by the fire. Aye, he’d very much hoped his bastard brothers hadn’t noticed what Sarah could do. But if they had and if they thought they could force her to use that gift to further their own ends ...
Nay, he wouldn’t let that happen to her. He rubbed his thighs as surreptitiously as possible to bring the feeling back to his legs and watched his guardsmen spin around to face Amitán, their hands on their swords.
“Oy, what do ye want?” the largest of the three demanded, with an admirable amount of fierceness.
“Tidings,” Amitán said shortly, jerking his head in Ruith’s direction. “Who captured that one?”
“Can’t say,” the first said stubbornly.
“Can’t, or won’t?” Amitán asked in a low, dangerous tone.
The second stepped up to stand shoulder to shoulder with the first. “I don’t see as that matters, friend, do you?”
“It matters, friend, because I want the answer. And if you have two wits to rub together, you’ll give it to me before I reward your refusal in a way you will find very unpleasant indeed.”
The lads stood firm, but Ruith imagined they were beginning to regret having taken on the task of guarding him to begin with. He couldn’t blame them. He had his own very vivid memories of encounters with his elder half brothers. They were, to a man, unpleasant and without mercy. He supposed he could concede that they were justified in their hatred of him and his siblings given that he was certain they had looked upon them as usurpers, but he’d suffered enough as a child thanks to their abuse not to feel compelled to extend any undue understanding their way now.