Born to Magic: Tales of Nevaeh: Volume I

by David Wind

  A half hour into their journey, Mikaal stopped. Dismounting, he withdrew one of the scrolls. The map his father had given them was intricately marked. It showed Morvene, and its capital, Troit, and all the charted roads.

  He pointed to Handlebridge Lake and to their approximate position. “We are headed west, Northcrom is north. There is another road a few miles from here that turns northward,” he said, pointing to the thin line and following it with his finger. “From here, we can intersect the closest border of Northcrom.” He paused. “Perhaps, when we reach Northcrom’s borders, instead of going to Syrak, we turn east and go directly to Aldimor.”

  “We cannot,” Areenna said, thinking back to last night’s conversation with Layra. “We must go to Syrak and speak with Queen Ilsraeth. It is important.”

  “Why?”

  Areenna shook her head. “My instructions are firm. Your mother has sent us this way for a purpose. You need to trust her.”

  His eyes narrowed as he stared at her. “You are hiding something.”

  “I am telling you what we are required to do to make this journey. It is important I speak with each queen before we go to the east. You must trust your mother and trust me as well.”

  “I trust both of you implicitly. But you are still hiding something.”

  “Mikaal, there are things you do not need to know, not yet. It has nothing to do with you, only me.”

  He continued to stare at her, wondering what it was until, finally, he shrugged. “As you say, Princess.”

  By midday they reached the road that had been marked on the map and Mikaal said, “We take this north, if you still insist on going to Northcrom.”

  Areenna glanced around and urged Hero to the side of the road where several trees had been downed by a past storm. She dismounted, stretched and untied the linen package attached to her saddle. “A little food before we continue,” she said and sat on one of the downed trees.

  He dropped Charka’s reigns so the kraal could forage along with Hero and joined her on the tree to share the meal.

  As they ate, Areenna sent out a questing thought for Gaalrie. It took a moment but when the reply came, it shook her. She closed her eyes and concentrated on what the treygone was seeing.

  “That is how,” she whispered.

  Mikaal was instantly alert. “What is how?”

  She opened her eyes and looked at him. Then she grasped both his hands and stared deeply into his eyes. “We are being followed by scent. Gaalrie has seen the wraith again, and it is following us. We need to hide our scent.” She opened her thoughts to him to let him see what she had seen. From high above, Gaalrie had watched the wraith drop to the ground outside the homestead and lower its head. He watched as it rose no more than a foot above the ground and flew slowly in the direction they had taken.

  “You have no magic to hide our scent? No spell?”

  “The first wraith I ever saw was at Tolemac. How can I know how my powers will affect it?”

  Mikaal unrolled the map and began to scan it. He traced every road between where they stood and Syrak, looking for a way to hide their trail. When he found what he believed would work, he said, “According to the map, there is a large lake an hour distance from here. There are markings on the map showing a ferry crossing. The lake is wide and if I am right and the ferry is there, it will completely stop our scent. But it will take us a half day out of the way.”

  “A half day is nothing of concern. We have a destination not a schedule,” Areenna said.

  “Then our only concern is if the ferry is on this side of the lake,” Mikaal offered.

  Puzzled, she looked at him for a moment. “Where else would it be?”

  “The other side…. How can we be certain? But even if it made a morning trip, it would be back by the time we reach the lake.”

  “If the ferry is not there, the wraith will find us.”

  “I see no other choice.”

  “No, you are right, there is none,” Areenna agreed.

  “You could send Gaalrie to check on the ferry.”

  Areenna shook her head. “She tracks the wraith. We must know what it is doing.”

  Mikaal slid the map into the case on Charka’s flank. “We should leave now.”

  “Not yet. Join me here,” she said, kneeling in the middle of the road. When he was next to her, she raised her arms, her palms facing the road. “Pay attention,” she said. “Create a picture in your mind of a slungk. Close your eyes and picture its pure white fur, see the wide black streak running from the tip of its nose to the very end of its tail. Picture its eyes so small and pale blue. Look at its paws of white fur and black nails. See it raising its tail, the tail widening, bulging. Watch it squeeze itself from its shoulders to its tail and send its spray outward and downward onto the road. See it, create it…do it!” she whispered into his ear as she created her own slungk.

  The air turned nauseous, the scent of slungk erupted everywhere. “Come,” she commanded him, “we ride. Do not let the image go. Hold it strong.”

  “How did you—“

  “—no, you did that as well. Be quiet and concentrate. Keep expelling the scent.”

  He did what she asked, and for the next quarter mile held the vision of the slungk. When Areenna told him to stop, he did so gratefully. “I don’t understand,” he said, weary of the amount of times he’d had to say those words.

  “What did you not grasp?”

  “How could a slungk be created by thinking of it? What of the formula?”

  “Mikaal, you must stop thinking like a man who has heard too many stories of how women create magic. It comes from the mind, not from words. The formula is one of your mind’s making.”

  He shook his head. “I—”

  “—Stop talking. Would you have believed me if I said all I have to do is create a picture in my head of what I need to happen and it will?”

  He gazed at her for a very long minute. “Before we left Tolemac, no. Now, yes.”

  “Finally,” she whispered, more to herself than to him. “There is no secret among women that the creation within one’s mind is the formula—not the words men so badly need to believe are spoken—to create magic.”

  “So there are no formulas?”

  She smiled again. “I didn’t say that, and of course there are formulas, but for the most part the formula is…the construction of what needs to be done—a notation, if you will, to remember how it was created. Mikaal, it is the power of the mind, not of the words.”

  “It is complicated,” he admitted.

  She edged Hero next to him and reached across to take his hand. His skin was warm and comfortable. She squeezed firmly. “No. You’re making it complicated. It’s simple. When you want your powers to be there, clear your mind and think only on what needs to be accomplished. It is not a matter of attempting to do something but the act of doing it. Accept it as accomplished and it will be.”

  Mikaal looked down at the small hand covering his before looking at her. “I shall do my best, Princess.”

  <><><>

  Roth and Enaid were walking in the courtyard when a silver and blue winged traimore flew low over them. Reaching up, Enaid presented the small falcon-like bird her wrist. The traimore fluttered above it for a moment before settling gently on her soft skin.

  Roth smiled at the bird, remembering its pre-mutated ancestor, which was known as a Peregrine falcon. It was about a quarter bigger than its predecessor, with a longer beak, but identical in all other aspects.

  “It is from Morvene, from Layra,” she said and untied the small cloth on its clawed limb. She read the inscription and turned to Roth, her eyes troubled. “They have been discovered. Layra says it is the same as was at Tolemac. She tried to put a block behind them, but it did not hold, the dark magic was too strong.”

  Roth stared at the traimore balanced so lightly on Enaid’s wrist. “What choices are there now?”

  “None except to trust that together they are strong enough to ou
tmaneuver her.”

  “They are children.”

  “Oh how I so wish they were,” she whispered before exhaling sharply. “Together they are stronger than any who come against them, stronger even than you and I.”

  “How can you be so certain?”

  She smiled lovingly at him. “Solomon, it is time to let go. Mikaal is no longer a boy. He is a man, a special man. And Areenna…”

  When she paused, he stepped closer to her. “And Areenna?” he prompted.

  “She is the one you have been awaiting. And Mikaal is her complement.”

  “Areenna…is the woman of your foreseeing?”

  “She is, My Lord. Mikaal as well.”

  He took a step back, his eyes locking on hers. “You are certain of this? When did you know?”

  “I think it was at the very moment she was born.”

  The words should have struck him hard, but they did not. He smiled. “Why did you withhold this from me? Because of Mikaal?”

  She shook her head slowly without taking her eyes from his. “I wish I had known. But if I had, you would have treated him differently. Perhaps that is why I was blind to his powers.”

  “Do you really think so?” he asked.

  “Absolutely.”

  He laughed despite the way his stomach had tightened. “I’m sure you’re right. But knowing this you still sent them to the Island?”

  She drew a faltering breath. When she settled her mind, she said, “It is where they both must find the abilities that truly lay within them. If they do not, we…all of Nevaeh, are all lost.”

  CHAPTER 15

  “THE FERRY IS there,” Areenna said. It was mid-afternoon as they approached the ferry landing. The wraith had been thrown off their scent for a little while, but had picked it up again and was barely an hour behind.

  Once she’d known the wraith had recovered their real scent, she had called Gaalrie back. The aoutem was now flying above, watching all areas.

  “Then we will be on the water and away from that thing,” Mikaal declared.

  “Do not be overly confident. It will be only a matter of time, but if all goes well, it will be enough time.”

  They crested a small hill just as she finished speaking and saw below them the lake and the ferry at the end of a short dock. The ferry looked especially small. Areenna hoped it would be large enough to accommodate the kraals.

  Drawing closer, she saw the ferry was bigger than she’d first thought. It was long and flat, with short sides and two sets of oars on each side. There was a long pole at each end for guidance. In the center was a mast with ropes attached to a furled sail.

  A few hundred yards north of the dock stood a small stone cabin. A plume of smoke wafted from its chimney. Two small children played in front of the cabin while a woman watched over them.

  At the dock, a stocky man watched them approach, arms akimbo, his fisted hands on his hips. Behind him, two younger men worked on the ferry. Areenna turned to Mikaal. “Your ring, take it off,” she said.

  Mikaal looked down at his right hand. His ring bore the crest of the high king and would identify him as a member of the high king’s family. He slipped the ring from his index finger and put it into the small pouch at his belt.

  They rode slowly toward the ferry. Areenna watched the ferryman observe their approach. A strange sensation traveled through her mind, and as she studied the ferryman, she was able to sense he was a simple man who worked hard and was a forthright and honest. It was the first time she had ever sensed another in this manner and was grateful for the blessing Queen Layra gifted to her—the ability to know the truth of another by looking at them.

  Five minutes later they reached the footing of the dock and dismounted. The ferryman approached them. “You seek passage?” he asked and, with a practiced eye, judged their worth by their clothing.

  “We do,” Mikaal replied.

  “It is late in the day,” the man said, “and it—”

  “—is understood the fare will reflect the hour,” Mikaal finished for him.

  “You can afford such for two so young?” He stared openly at them.

  Areenna, sensing Mikaal’s anger at the question, stepped forward. “Please, ferry master, we need to cross. My brother and I must get to Syrak as soon as possible. Our parents await us. My father is King Maslo’s record keeper and we carry documents for the King.” She pointed to the rolls of maps attached to Charka’s saddle.

  “King’s mission or not, the ferry will still cost you passage.”

  “Which is only fair,” Areenna said. She turned to Mikaal. “Brother, please pay the man.”

  Mikaal gave her a lopsided smile. “Of course, Sister.” Pulling two coins from his pouch, he tossed them to the ferryman. “Is that sufficient?

  Mollified by both coin and Areenna’s words, the ferryman put the coins in his pocket without a glance. “Walk the kraals to the ferry. Tie them securely. Kraals do not like the ferry.”

  “Take them both, Brother, I need to…I need privacy before we cross,” Areenna said, giving Mikaal a sharp look.

  Mikaal led the kraals to the ferry while Areenna walked toward the ferryman’s small house. She waved at the man’s wife and walked up to her. Before she could say anything, the woman directed her to the rear of the house.

  When she reached the small outbuilding, she did not use it, but she knelt and melded with Gaalrie, who followed her command and swooped down to chase a rabt toward her. When the white and gray spotted rabt saw Areenna, it froze, its tall ears rotating back and forth between Gaalrie who had landed behind it and Areenna. While a dozen feet from it, Areenna created another scent pattern, this time covering the rabt with her scent.

  Then she stood and, with a sharp asking, had Gaalrie chase the rabt in a westerly direction. The rabt would run for at least an hour, spreading Areenna’s scent in every direction it darted. Hopefully it would confuse the wraith, giving them enough distance from the shore not to be seen should the wraith find their scent by the ferry dock.

  <><><>

  It was long after dark when they reached a clearing deep within the forests of Northcrom. They were ten miles from the lake and had been moving in the northeasterly direction to where Syrak was situated. According to the map, Syrak was a least two days further, perhaps three.

  The crossing had been uneventful, and once on the far side of the wide lake, they wasted no time in putting distance between themselves and the water, their scent cut off from detection. After leaving the ferry, the ride had been easy and, with the aid of Gaalrie’s sharp night vision, they had located the spot where they now made camp.

  While Mikaal finished gathering firewood, Areenna set up the lean-to. When she was done, Mikaal lit the fire. “We have been fortunate not to not meet other travelers.”

  “That will not be the case tomorrow. Northcrom is more populated than Morvene.”

  “Then we shall have to be careful. We must wear our cloaks.”

  Nodding, Mikaal went to their belongings and spread out the food the housekeeper had given them. He selected the smoked dar meat and a few slices of bread and brought them over to where Areenna sat.

  As the flames of the fire settled into a low glow, they ate their cold meal in silence. After, Mikaal opened one of the map scrolls and laid it out. The firelight was just strong enough to make the writing on the map visible.

  “We have three choices,” he said, his finger going to the lines on the map showing the routes to Syrak. “These two are the major roads. They will be well traveled.” Then he pointed to a line set off from the others. “This one is a rarely traveled route. It will also hide us from that thing, should it pick up our scent on this side of the lake. If my father’s notes are right,” he said, pointing to the hand written lettering across the line, “and it is what I believe it to be, this road will not carry our scent.”

  Areenna’s brow furrowed. “How is such possible?”

  Mikaal smiled. “Not with magic. You must see it to unde
rstand,” was all he would say.

  “I look forward to it.” She fell silent then, studying him. She had watched him during the ferry ride. He had been unusually quiet and she was concerned he had begun doubting himself and his powers. “And now, perhaps after a day of riding might I impose on you for a lesson with the sword?”

  Mikaal tilted his head and gazed at her. There was something he was picking up from her, but was unsure of what. “If you would like,” he said.

  “I would.” She stood and went to where her sword lay. Sliding it out of the scabbard, she turned to him. “Whenever you are ready.”

  He hefted his sword. “Defense?” he asked.

  “You are the teacher. You decide.”

  Without further prompting, Mikaal started forward. He struck almost before she was set, slashing at her with a vicious cut that seemed to come from nowhere. She deflected his blade just in time, but the force of the strike knocked her back. She spun, putting a yard between them and grasped her short sword in two hands. He came at her again, this time with an overhead swing, which she blocked, twisted beneath and came around.

  Her reaction was instinctive. She did not think, only reacted and came close to catching him, but he blocked her thrust and side-stepped away. Then he spun and, with his sword perpendicular to the ground, came at her.

  This time she was prepared and before his sword came within a foot of her, she drew on herself and with her left hand open, sent a flood of power at him. He was lifted from the ground and thrown down hard.

  Seeing him sitting on the ground, staring up at her in bewilderment, Areenna began to laugh. She was laughing so hard she could not stop and ended up bent double, leaning on the sword with one hand, the other holding her belly.

  “Very funny,” Mikaal growled. “I told you no magic.”

  Areenna gasped for breath and finally gained enough control to stop laughing. She straightened and offered Mikaal a hand. He looked from her face to her hand and slowly extended his hand to her and, with a smile growing on his face, let her help him to his feet.

  As he stood, his hand tightened on hers and before she had a chance to react, spun her half around while he grabbed the sword from her other hand. Slamming her against him, he pulled the sword free, raised it, and laid the edge of the blade against her throat.