But not now.
The pulsing of the ring persisted.
She followed it. It didn’t take much for her to know just where to go. She was thankful Ceran had responded. There was a part of her that had worried he wouldn’t, and that he would decide she needed to handle this on her own. She could to a certain extent, but at this point, she wanted his help.
As before, it guided her to the outskirts of the city, to the forest just at the edge. Darkness settled around the city, with the heavy fog of humidity layering over everything, almost oppressively so, making it difficult for her to even take a simple breath. The ring pulsed steadily, telling her she was in the right place, but it didn’t do anything more than that. Just a steady rhythm of power.
As she ran, her mind continued to race through everything she needed to create the tracking spell. Maybe Ceran could help her find fairy fingers. Especially in a place like this that had once been home to the El'aras.
She almost skidded to a stop.
The El'aras.
She had believed they had what she needed.
What if they didn’t? It would be just like sorcerers to use a misnomer. They wouldn’t necessarily be referring to El’aras fingers, but. . .
Spells required natural items. The spellbook was not a dark spellbook. Which meant it wouldn't include spells that required fingers. It had to be something else. A plant, maybe?
The ring vibrated.
She had to get moving quickly.
What she wouldn’t give for some more reliable way to communicate with Ceran so she didn’t have to go venturing out into the forest like this, so she didn’t have to only hope he would respond. There were times when all she wanted was an answer to a simple question. Of course, he had no obligation to answer any of her questions. He was Sul’toral, and she was Toral, power given to her by him through ancient magics she did not yet know, simply because he had detected potential in her—or so he said.
The fog in front of her started to part as Ceran approached.
Shadows lingered around him, seemingly alive, and as he stepped clear of the fog and the humidity, he came to a stop a few paces in front of her, tipping his head to the side as he regarded her.
“Have you found them yet?”
“Not yet. I still haven't found what I need.”
“You said you had a spell you could use to track them.”
“It would be easier if you could point them out for me.”
“And it would be easier if you hadn’t summoned me away. There is danger in my leaving.”
Jayna suppressed her own frustration. “Yeah? There is danger in the dwaring, as well.”
He chuckled, some of the annoyance fading, but not completely. “You can handle the dwaring. You have handled other dark creatures. They are similar enough.”
“And Gabranth?”
“That is another matter.”
Sorcerers had incredible power. They could create amazing magic and use it to work with enchantments, turning simple things into much greater things. Sul’toral had power that surpassed that of sorcerers. They had items of power far beyond mere enchantments. They could use those items and perform magic unlike anything any sorcerer could do, manifesting power in the world that could change entire cities—or destroy them.
He smiled as if knowing her thoughts. “Your uncertainty is but a step, Jayna Aguelon. Understanding that you don’t have the answers is key to the world you find yourself in. Once we stop Gabranth, we will further your understanding. I think it is increasingly imperative that you know.”
“And what world is that?”
“The world of power.”
“I’ve been a part of the world of power for a while now.” She had trained at the Academy for the better part of five years—a long time when it came to working with and mastering magic. She had been close to finishing there, at which point she would have moved on to continue her training elsewhere, similar to what Char had done.
“You know the power they have been willing to show you, but you don’t know power.”
She started to smile, but Ceran had a serious look on his face.
“I thought I needed El'aras fingers—”
Ceran started to laugh, and she glowered at him.
“I realize now that was a mistake.”
“There are some uses for such items.” He said it with a note of curiosity rather than distaste. Had he actually used El'aras fingers? “But I doubt you would find any spell in this part of the world that would call upon that.”
“I think they intended to use the captured El'aras as part of the festival.”
“That would have been dangerous. You did well freeing them.” He glanced at her, arching a brow. “You did free them, didn't you?”
She nodded.
“Good. The last time I witnessed a festival with El'aras involvement, it was a bloody, violent mess. The dark energy released was terrible. It took days to clean up.”
“The mess or the magic?”
“Both.”
He stepped off to the side, and the fog in shadows seemed to follow him. It reminded her a little of the smoky haze that had been in Master Raollet's shop.
“All for power.”
“Many would do much worse for power,” Ceran said.
“I know,” Jayna said softly.
That had been the reason she had gone to the Academy in the first place. She had chased power, no differently than any other person who went after it. She couldn’t deny she had, and she didn’t want to deny it either. She had wanted to be a sorcerer because she had wanted to know what that would feel like—what that would be like.
And the more she had learned, the more she had come to realize that serving as a sorcerer was not quite what she had believed it to be.
The study was part of it. The magic was another. The knowledge was what she had truly wanted, and while she had learned a significant amount, there was some other aspect of sorcery she hadn’t anticipated.
It was the part of her that had become a bit jaded.
It was the part of her that had begun to question whether the kind of power she learned was used in the way she believed it should be used.
After learning the truth about how her parents died, what choice did she have but to go after more power—the kind that would help her keep the same fate from happening to someone else? Like her brother.
For everything sorcerers taught and allowed her to learn, there was a delay in how quickly and effectively they permitted somebody who was not a part of the full Society to rise within their ranks. She understood the hesitation to a certain extent. There was a need to protect against those who might use power in more nefarious ways, but it seemed to her that the Society didn’t always offer that protection.
It was why she had gone to Ceran.
Finding him had been difficult, but not impossible. The trail had been placed all throughout the Academy, like Ceran had wanted her—or someone—to find him.
Ceran had been watching her, as if he knew what she was thinking.
“Do you believe you came after power or power came after you?”
“I came after power,” she answered quickly.
“Perhaps. But you wouldn't have been capable of using it if you did not have potential. Not all can serve.”
She had wondered about that. Ceran rarely spoke about the Toral magic, and what it meant for her to serve him the way she did.
“That you didn't seek it out is why you are even less likely to be tempted by that power. It is why I thought you could be helpful. And why I think Gabranth will underestimate you.” His accented words made it difficult for her to understand him sometimes, but he was clear now.
“Can you stop Asymorn if he is released?”
Ceran's eyes narrowed. “We must stop Gabranth before it gets to that—which means you must find him. And you must find out about the timing of the festival.”
She didn’t really know the extent of Ceran’s power. She suspected it, and
there were times when she thought she understood what exactly it was he could do with that power, but she didn’t know with any certainty. That power had given him strength, and had made him something more. It was that power she had borrowed from.
If anyone could handle some dark god, then it had to be Ceran.
“Will you be here if they succeed?” she asked.
“You must ensure they don’t.”
Ceran walked her deeper into the forest, stopping in front of a small clearing. He leaned down and clutched a fistful of long, slender reeds before turning back to her.
“Fairy fingers. That is what you needed, I believe?”
She blinked, thinking about what she had been tempted to do.
“Not quite what you thought they were.” She shook her head. “Good luck, Jayna Aguelon. So much depends upon you—more than you can even know.”
18
Jayna found the home quiet. The flames burning in the hearth made it far warmer than she preferred, though Eva loved it that way. She paused, looking at her a moment, before her gaze swept down to the game board resting on the ground in front of Eva. They were in the midst of playing a long game, each of them moving a piece every so often, but not with any regularity.
Jayna noticed one of her pieces had moved and she leaned down to lift it.
When Eva looked up, Jayna frowned. “Why'd you put my piece back?”
“I'm not letting you move it there,” Eva slurred, spilling a bit of wine on the floor. “It was a stupid move and you didn't even want to play it.”
“It was the safest move.”
“That's how I know you didn't want to do it. You're letting that man get into your head. If you start playing like Char then I'm done.”
“I give up, Eva. What do you want me to do?”
“I want you to play the move you intended.” Eva's eyes met hers, looking clear and lucid, though she slouched even deeper in the chair and her wineglass hung loosely in her hand.
Jayne knew what move Eva was talking about. Of course she had seen it. Her brother had used it on her a dozen times. But every time she had tried it, he'd shut her down. Jayna glared at Eva, then at the board again. She had talked herself out of it. How had Eva known?
“Fine,” Jayna leaned over and plucked the assassin piece from behind her phalanx, and moved it to the center of Eva's guard formation. “There. Are you happy?”
“Quite.” Eva's mouth curled up in an impish smile and she swayed to her feet, cradling the wineglass. She nearly knocked the candle over when she placed the glass on the table.
She hiccupped and moved off toward the kitchen.
“Oh, come on. I know you're going to capture it. Just make the move.”
“I might. I might not.”
This game would never be finished. Jayna sighed and rubbed her shoulder. It was time she figured out if the fairy fingers would work, now that she had them. Eva banged around in the cupboards and came out with another wine bottle. She settled in the chair again and began fumbling with a corkscrew.
“You can go now.” She looked up at Jayna, almost impatient to be left alone again. “Unless you'd like to help me get this bottle open.
“Not yet. I’ve got to work on the spell.”
Eva was too busy wrestling the cork out of the bottle to answer. Jayna only shook her head. Eva could drink all night and still be fresh as a field rose the next day. Jayna was the one who needed sleep.
Still, she grabbed the spellbook and her supplies, then spread them out around her, making a mess of the table. The pile of fairy finger reeds rested next to the spellbook, along with Char’s hair. She had a bucket of iron nails sitting on the ground, as the blacksmith from whom she had sourced them had only been willing to sell them to her in a certain quantity. She had little choice but to agree. How could she argue with him that she only needed the one?
The spell ingredients were harder to acquire than they needed to be. Not the nails. Those were easy enough. The hair had involved a sacrifice she wished she hadn’t needed to make. But the fairy fingers . . .
Those were hard to get because of her ignorance.
Had she stayed at the Academy and studied, she might have known better. Though had she stayed at the Academy and studied, she would not have gotten into the situation.
And Gabranth would possibly have succeeded.
Now that she had the ingredients for the tracking spell, she was ready to proceed.
Eva remained in one of the stuffed chairs with the fire crackling near her. It was late, late enough that she worried she should wait, get some rest, and then try this again in the morning. Still, even though she was tired, she recognized she couldn’t linger too long before completing this task. If she did, Topher would suffer. Already she feared what happened to him.
What was happening to him.
And it wasn’t only Topher who suffered. There were others.
“Are you sure you want to do this now?” Eva asked, taking a sip of wine.
“Ceran wants me to find the festival as quickly as possible. He’s waiting.”
“He could have stayed with you.”
“Apparently, he has something else he needs to do that is of equal importance.”
“Did he say what it was?”
“That isn't really how Ceran operates. But if he says it's important, I have to believe it is.”
Eva glanced in her direction, and Jayna focused on the spellbook, the proper mixing of the three ingredients, and the pattern that was needed to merge them into the contours of the spell.
Not all spell work required ingredients. Most of the time, there were simple patterns that created spells, though at times, it was a matter of using specific words, or phrases, to create the kinds of patterns and power needed to work the magic she attempted to summon. The ones that required ingredients were often far more complicated than those that did not. It wasn’t a surprise to her that this one in particular would use a mixture of ingredients. Tracing magic tended to be more complicated, mixing the power of sorcery with the art of the natural world. It was why she hadn’t questioned the need for fairy fingers.
She traced out the pattern on the table first. It was a simple series of interlocking triangles surrounded by a looping of power. She had to use a bit of sorcery in order to do that, and hoped there wouldn’t be any sorcerers paying attention to the power she used at this time of night, but there was nothing she could do about that right now.
Once she was done, she focused then on adding the first of the ingredients: the lock of a lost love’s hair. She sprinkled that across the top of the pattern. It was a strange ingredient, but she thought she could tell why it would be a part of the spell: desire.
Intent had to be a part of all spells. In this case, she had to find something she wanted, and the lock of lost love’s hair represented that desire.
She added the iron nail next. She was unsure why she needed that ingredient, but she suspected it was tied to neutralizing any other forms of magic. Iron could often neutralize El’aras magic, as well as the magic of others. It ensured that this was simply sorcery she detected.
As for the last ingredient, the fairy fingers, she remained completely clueless about their purpose. The nail had started to soften, and as it did, it melted across the surface of the tabletop, though it didn’t seal down to the table. It melded with the hair, and when she placed the fairy fingers on top, she watched as they quickly dissolved, wrapped up in a strange surge of power.
Suddenly, the reeds formed the same pattern she had created on the tabletop, mixing in with the energy she had added, and gradually shrinking down ever smaller until they constricted into little more than a coin shape.
A tracking coin.
It wasn’t too different from what Topher had given her.
An enchantment, though unlike any other enchantment she’d ever made.
She grunted. “It worked.”
“You doubted it would?” Eva slurred.
“I didn’t kno
w. For one, I wasn’t sure if Char’s hair was going to be compelling enough to make the spell work. For another, I didn’t know if the fairy fingers Ceran had given me were real.”
She held the coin, then looked at the spellbook, trying to figure out what she needed next. It was designed to help find what she wanted, so long as it had magic. With a spell like this, she had to wonder if she could even find Jonathan . . . Her brother didn’t have any access to magic, and the spell was designed to search for it.
It felt warm in her hand, and unsurprisingly it throbbed a little bit, reminding her of how the dragon stone ring pulsed, carrying power through it and drawing her along. It was probably a similar kind of magic.
“What now?” Eva asked.
The smart thing to do would probably be to wait, but when had she ever done the smart thing?
“Now we see if this works.”
“Are you sure you want to do that?”
She looked over at Eva. She had sat up, and there was a strange clarity in her eyes. It seemed as if the flames danced in them—more brightly than Jayna would have expected.
“I can use this to find Gabranth. Once I find him, we can find the festival, then I call Ceran and be done with it before it gets out of hand.”
“Even if we stop it, we’re going to have to remove the dwaring.”
She knew that. She wasn’t prepared for what that would take quite yet.
“If this works, then we can just check him out. We don’t even have to do anything with Rendal yet.”
Eva watched her. “I’ve never known you to refrain when there’s opportunity to take action.”
She chuckled. “I suppose I would do something.”
She grabbed Raollet’s cane before heading out.
Jayna had no idea what it did—if anything—but it might serve as a weapon in the dark. She could use that much at least.
They stepped outside, closing the door, and she held the tracking coin in one hand. She focused on the sorcery she had detected earlier, and pushed a tracing of the painful Toral connection out through the coin, trying to use it to find that sorcery again.
At first, there was no sense of anything. She began to fear that the power pulsing through it had been nothing more than her imagination. Gradually, though, the coin started surging.
Festival of Mourn (The Dark Sorcerer Book 1) Page 19
