Echoes of Magic

by Donna Grant

  Echoes of Magic

  Title Page

  Chapter One

  C hapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Thirty

  Epilogue

  ECHOES OF MAGIC

  By

  Donna Grant

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  ECHOES OF MAGIC

  Copyright© 2011 Donna Grant

  Cover Artist: Croco Designs

  Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  www.DonnaGrant.com

  Chapter One

  Summer 1127

  Western England, near the coast

  Adrianna stretched her neck and flexed hands that had gripped the reins for far too long. When the gypsies she’d traveled with for the past three years halted for a rest, she gladly hopped down from the seat of her wagon.

  The stretch of road they’d journeyed was narrow and surrounded by woods. She loved wandering with the gypsies but, for the past week, she couldn’t shake the feeling something was wrong. Or was about to go wrong.

  No amount of magic had given her a clue, either.

  As a bana‐bhuidseach, a witch, she had spent her time trying to decipher just what was out of alignment. Each bana‐bhuidseach had a special gift, and hers was seeing the future.

  Adrianna was many things, but she wasn’t courageous enough to look into her own future. Not when her kind was cursed and slowly fading into legend. As far as she knew, there was only one other bana‐bhuidseach. Where once they covered all of Britain, soon no more would see the beautiful land.

  The bana‐bhuidseach had been around for so long that none remembered their true origins, though some text claimed they hailed from an ancient land of sand and sun.

  Adrianna pushed a stray hair behind her ear and moved into the forest. She leaned against a tree and let the beauty and nature of the area soak into her. The need to be alone had driven her into the trees, but it would also help to calm her and the constant fear that something...evil...was about to descend.

  The other bana‐bhuidseach she had met, Serena, had been followed by a man drenched in evil. Ever since Adrianna had sensed a growing malevolence throughout the land.

  Her hands traveled down the elm tree, the bark scratching her palms. She sighed and began to turn back to her wagon when she caught a glimpse of something in the underbrush. Adrianna leaned down and peered through the ferns to find a bloodied hand.

  With her heart hammering in her chest, she pushed aside the underbrush and discovered a man lying on his side. His long black hair covered his face and was matted with leaves, blood, and mud. By the look of the fine material of his tunic, he was a nobleman who had been ambushed most likely by a roving band of outlaws.

  She sighed at the loss of life and began to rise to her feet when a moan stopped her.

  “By the saints,” she murmured and gently pushed his hair from his face.

  With her finger beneath his nose she felt his slow, shallow breathing. If she hurried, and his injuries weren’t too extensive, she might be able to save him.

  “Milosh! Yoska,” she called.

  As tenderly she could, she turned the man onto his back. Blood had pooled beneath him and stained his light blue tunic. She saw no weapons, no jewelry.

  “Drina!” Milosh shouted.

  Adrianna lifted her head when she heard the gypsy leader call out the pet name he had given her. “Over here.”

  When the tall Romanian burst through the trees, his brother, Yoska, was right behind him. The men had the same black hair, dark eyes and tall, rangy build. They had welcomed her into their family when she found them, never asking questions of her past. For that she would be forever grateful.

  Yoska said something in Romanian that made Milosh nod absently.

  “Please help me get him back to my cart,” Adrianna said. “He’s wounded, but alive.”

  “And soon to die,” Milosh said.

  “Please. I cannot just leave him.”

  The two brothers glanced at each other before they bent down and carried the man toward her cart. He groaned as soon as they lifted him, his head lolling to the side. Adrianna winced and hurried ahead of the brothers to make room for her new patient.

  She quickly moved things out of the way and cleared the bed. Then she began to tear one of her old gowns to use as bandages.

  “Strip his tunic,” she ordered the brothers as she dug through her herbs.

  All bana‐bhuidseach were able to heal, but only a few had the true gift and were able to heal others without the addition of herbs or magic.

  She turned just as Milosh lowered the man, now bare-chested, to the bed. For a moment, Adrianna couldn’t move. The man was a giant, most likely larger than even Milosh. His body was corded with muscles, and even unconscious he emanated power and stealth.

  Danger.

  “Drina?”

  She jerked and tore her gaze from the man. “Thank you,” she murmured.

  “You’re going to need help,” the leader said as he glanced at the warrior. “He’s a big man and, even wounded, he’ll be strong.”

  Yoska stepped near her. “I’ll stay.”

  Milosh nodded and jumped from the cart. “I’ll have one of the other men drive you.”

  Adrianna raised her hand to let him know she’d heard, but her attention was on her patient. “Yoska, can you roll him to his side?”

  The big Romanian pushed the warrior toward the side of the cart, exposing his back and the wound to Adrianna. She cursed under her breath and hurriedly wiped away the dried blood. “It’s an arrow.”

  “It’s in deep. By the looks of it, the arrow was cut off.”

  Adrianna paused. “He couldn’t have done that. Not where the arrow penetrated him.”

  “Nay. Most likely one of his attackers sliced it off while taking a swing at him.”

  “However it happened matters little now. We need to get it out. Already a fever has taken root.”

  Yoska’s lips flattened at her words. “Hold him.”

  She crawled onto the bed and gripped the man’s arms in a vain effort to keep him down. With one swing of his thick arm, he could send her flying off the bed. She found herself gazing into a face that, even covered in dirt, couldn’t hide the ruggedly handsome hallowed cheeks, strong jaw and chin, and wide mouth.

  He murmured something when Yoska gripped the edge of the arrow.

  “Make it quick,” she told the Romanian. The last thing she wanted was to try and take the arrow out while traveling over the rough roads.

  Yoska shook his head. “I don’t like where it’s at, Drina. We could do more
damage by removing it.”

  “We don’t have a choice. I cannot heal him unless it’s gone. Please, Yoska.”

  The big man gave a single nod of his head to prepare her before he reached down and jerked the arrow out. The warrior stiffened before he bellowed in pain, his hands painfully gripping her arms. When Adrianna looked down, she saw eyes the color of silver winged with thick, black lashes staring at her a moment before he fell back unconscious.

  For a moment, she couldn’t move, couldn’t think beyond the man she held.

  “I don’t think it was mere thieves after him, Drina.”

  She turned to Yoska and the arrow head he held up for her view. The arrowhead was unlike anything she had seen before. The tip was thin, the sides jagged, causing it to go deep and tear flesh, bone, and organs when it was removed. She was amazed they had managed to get it out of the warrior, but it explained his immense pain when they did.

  “Hold him,” she bade Yoska as she scooted from the bed to examine the arrowhead herself.

  The metal was different, thinner, almost as if it were made of magic. It oozed evil, making her skin crawl. She touched the tip of the arrow, and blood instantly beaded on her finger.

  “Careful, Drina.” Yoska’s voice was low and filled with trepidation.

  She set aside the arrow and licked her lips. She wanted to toss the arrow from her cart, but decided against it as her wagon lurched into motion. There might be a need for it later.

  For the next few hours, she cleaned and bandaged the warrior’s wound, trying to ignore the hard body and warm skin beneath her fingers. Each time she glanced at his face, she expected his unusual silver gaze to be on her and, when it wasn’t, she found herself disappointed.

  When she was done, she sighed and motioned Yoska to lower the man gently to his back. Adrianna wrung out another strip of bandages from the bowl and wiped the dirt and blood from the man’s face.

  “I’ve a bad feeling,” Yoska murmured. “This man was supposed to die. That much is clear. Whoever is after him will return to finish the job.”

  She glanced at her friend over her shoulder. “I also have a bad feeling, but I refuse to leave a man to die when I can save him.”

  “This has to do with the group we met last year, doesn’t it? The one that had the woman like you, the witch?”

  “Serena. Aye, I believe it does. The arrow smells of the same evil that followed Serena and Drogan.”

  “Was this man with Lady Serena’s group?”

  “Nay.”

  “You’re sure?”

  She was positive. There was no way she could have missed a man so imposing and powerful...and good-looking. “I’m sure.”

  “I’ll report to Milosh. He’ll want to know how the man fares.”

  Before she could respond, the Romanian was gone from the slow‐moving cart. Now that she was alone, she could look her fill at her patient. It had been quite awhile since a man had caught her attention. Though she wasn’t sure if it was because he was wounded or because she sensed something else in him, something powerful yet to be unleashed, she found she couldn’t keep her hands from him.

  She smoothed her hand down his sculpted chest and over the ridges and valleys of his abdomen corded with sinew. It had been a long time since she’d given her body to someone, and she had never thought to find another who would tempt her so, not when the curse had already touched her.

  The man stirred, mumbling in his sleep and tossing his head. The fever’s hold on him was strong.

  “Shh,” she whispered near his ear while stroking his face. “Rest easy. You’re safe.”

  Her words soothed him after a moment, and he settled once more into a deep, even sleep. As imposing as he was in sleep, she couldn’t imagine the warrior he was awake. And she could hardly wait to find out.

  It gave her pause, her sudden and unstoppable interest in her patient. It was almost enough to make her throw caution to the wind and give into the desires awakening in her body just by looking at him. But with the longing came the reminder of what she was, of what kept her from happiness.

  The curse.

  While he dreamed, Adrianna’s thoughts turned to the curse and her people.

  Every bana‐bhuidseach was destined to feel the curse. Since only women held the gifts of their people, it was the women who were fated to fall in love with a man who would leave them as soon as a child was born.

  Many bana‐bhuidseach let the anger and resentment turn their gifts to hate, souring everything around them until finally death took them, their magic lost to the wind.

  The women were all cautioned to accept their fate if they gave in to the desires of men for, once you gave in, there was no turning back.

  Adrianna hadn’t wanted to live her life alone, never having a child or knowing any kind of joy. She thought it would be worth the pain, worth being alone for the rest of her days.

  Until she lost both her lover and her child.

  Chapter Two

  The first thing Grayson noticed when he opened his eyes was the swaying and gentle music of the chimes above him.

  He licked his lips, craving water for his parched throat. Almost instantly, there was a cup at his mouth and a small hand lifting his head. Grayson drank deeply and sighed as the cool liquid eased him.

  When he was able, he turned his gaze to find a woman with the most amazing golden hair that trailed over one shoulder to fall into her lap. Her heart‐shaped face held a gentle smile as her kind, pale blue eyes returned his stare.

  He had seen those eyes before, but he’d thought it a dream. He’d thought her an angel come to ease his passing to death. He was more than pleased to find she wasn’t an angel but a woman with full lips that would tempt any saint.

  “My name is Adrianna,” she said, her voice soft, musical. “I found you wounded in the woods.”

  Grayson closed his eyes as the memories came rushing at him. The blood, the pain...and the knights meant to kill him. He tamped down his anger and took a deep breath before opening his eyes to look at Adrianna.

  “Thank you,” he said, his voice coming out sounding more like a frog than a man. “I’m Grayson of Wolfglynn.”

  Was it his imagination or had her eyes widened at the mention of Wolfglynn? He continued to claim Wolfglynn as his home until he could shrug off his secrets and live in the present. He’d been hiding for too long to ruin things now.

  “What happened to you?” she asked.

  Grayson raised his right arm and sucked in a breath at the blinding pain that ripped through him. It was several moments before he could breath again, and once more form thoughts. Saints, what had happened to him? He remembered the sting in his shoulder, how it made it impossible for him to lift his sword and defend himself. An injury for sure, but he’d had many injuries, and none had ever felt so damned awful.

  “Don’t break open the wound,” Adrianna said tersely as she touched his shoulder to still him. “It took me quite awhile to stop the bleeding. You’ve lost a lot of blood and are weak and feverish. You need to hold still.”

  Never one to want to be confined, Grayson found it difficult to not get up and find the men responsible for his wound. “Where am I?”

  “On the road west toward the coast. I’m traveling with a band of gypsies.”

  He inwardly chuckled. While he’d been lying on the ground bleeding, all he could think about was Hawksbridge. And even now he was on his way toward the castle that could give him all his answers.

  With gypsies of all people.

  The cup was once more placed at his lips. This time she let him drink until it was empty. He swallowed the last of the water and watched as she set aside the cup.

  “The last I remember was being surrounded by a group of knights.” He wasn’t sure why he told her the truth. He hadn’t spoken so plainly since...well, never. Yet, she’d saved his life, she deserved some truth.

  “Knights?” she asked, her head cocked to the side.

  He snorted. “Aye, kni
ghts. There were nine of them, but I managed to hold my own before I was wounded.”

  “You got away,” she said. “And hid well enough that I almost didn’t see you.”

  “I’m glad you found me. I don’t know how long I’d been lying in those woods.”

  “The knights wanted to kill you then?”

  “Aye, though I’ve no idea why. Their helms were down so I couldn’t see their faces, but I’ve never fought any of them before. I’m sure of it.”

  “Did they know who you were?”

  He paused at her question and recalled one of them had shouted his name. “Aye.”

  She licked her lips, drawing his gaze to them. “What will you do now?”

  “I was on my way to Hawksbridge. This time I’m going to reach the castle.”

  He didn’t miss the way her hands shook when she clasped them in her lap. There was something about her, something in the way she held herself and the way her eyes seemed to see far beyond the here and now, that made him think of Serena. Wolfglynn’s very own witch.

  Had you asked him a month ago if witches existed, he’d have laughed, but now he knew better. Witches did exist, at least a certain type of witch. He’d meet Serena while he was still commander of Drogan of Wolfglynn’s castle.

  That’s the first time Grayson had encountered evil so intense even the air seemed to darken around them. The evil had been after Drogan, intent on slaughter. Yet, Serena had stepped between the man and Drogan. She saved Drogan but nearly lost her life in the process.

  Thanks to another witch living just on the isle across from Wolfglynn, Serena had been saved. Even now, knowing two such powerful bana‐bhuidseach lived in Wolfglynn made Grayson a little uneasy. It wasn’t just the witches though. It was the evil. Some thought the man dead, but Drogan, Grayson and the others knew differently.

  “You seem lost in thought.”

  Grayson turned his gaze to Adrianna. “My apologies. A lot has happened over the past month.”