Soul Magic

by Karen Whiddon

  Familiar with such forceful emotions, Darrick held his tongue.

  After a moment, she lifted her face and met his gaze. “Morfran’s actions rendered such vows impossible.”

  “To whom?” `Twas not an unreasonable question, for she needed to remember there were two involved, rather than only her.

  “To me.” She tossed her head in agitation. “To both of us.”

  He cleared his throat. “Not to me.”

  Disbelief mingled with pain in her emerald gaze. “Say you that you would still wed me?”

  He gave a sigh. “Aye. I could come again to care for you.” He had begun to realize he had never stopped caring for her, that he’d most likely feel that way until the day he died.

  She looked away, the tight line of her lips showing clearly her resolve. “I care only for Caradoc. My son is all I want and all I need.”

  Though her response stabbed him like a sword, Darrick took great care not to show it.

  “You must know,” his next words he must put carefully, though he knew they had to be said. He had fought enough battles to know that good didn’t always win. “There is always a chance we will not be able to regain your son. Or my mother.”

  “No!” She stiffened, hands fisted as though she meant to strike him. “We must. We will. I won’t accept any alternative. We must find them both and bring them home.”

  Again. “And if we cannot?”

  Her shoulders sagged. With a visible effort she straightened them. He saw her remember that she was a princess. A mother first, but a princess of Rune as well.

  She sank back to the ground beside him, giving him her back. “Without Caradoc, I have no reason to live.”

  This he could well understand. He’d felt exactly that way on the morning of their wedding day when he’d realized she’d gone.

  The rest of their watch passed in silence, broken only by the harsh sound of her breathing. When one of Darrick’s men staggered into the light to relieve him, Darrick rose and took Alanna’s elbow. Though she moved stiffly, he helped her up and led her to his tent.

  At the entrance she paused. Sure she was about to protest, his rebuttal died on his lips at the plea he saw in her eyes.

  “I do not wish to be alone right now, and my chaperone seems to have disappeared. Stay with me.”

  His heart skipped at her words. Not trusting himself to speak, he nodded.

  “As my friend,” she clarified, crossing to the blankets and furs scattered haphazardly over the ground. “You are the only friend I have right now among the humans.”

  “I’m not certain I like being a last resort.”

  She gave him a fleeting smile. Crawling beneath the furs, she yawned, finally letting down her guard so he could see the tension seep out of her.

  “I will rest but a moment.” With another yawn she closed her eyes. Sleep took her in less than a heartbeat. Watching, Darrick found himself wanting, inexplicably, to weep.

  Instead, he went to the makeshift bed and lay down next to her, longing to touch her, but daring not. The force of his wanting shook him, nearly beating back an overwhelming need to sleep. At last exhaustion won. Useless contemplation of his futile desires wouldn’t help him. So Darrick closed his eyes.

  Shouts woke him, in what felt as if it couldn’t have been much more than an hour. Judging from the position of the still-wintry, pale sun, more had actually passed.

  Leaving Alanna slumbering, Darrick went outside, gripping his sword.

  A motley group of travelers, troubadours and mistrals, had stopped on the dirt road. Surrounded by his men with their swords at the ready, they appeared less frightened than exhausted.

  “What is this?” Striding over, Darrick made a gesture and his men lowered their swords.

  Geoffrey stepped back, his gaze wary. “They tried distract the guard so one of them could rummage through our supplies.”

  “We must eat.” The speaker, an older woman wearing a hood, waved her arms.

  “We are travelers, sir.” One of the troupe, a young lad of about fourteen, jostled to the front. “We mean no harm.”

  Another nod, and Darrick’s small crew dispersed, most of them heading back to complete their rest. The man who now stood watch resumed his place at the crest overlooking the road. Geoffrey remained stubbornly at Darrick’s side, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

  “Look!” One of the troupe’s women exclaimed.

  Though he had a sneaking suspicion what he’d see, Darrick glanced over his shoulder at his tent.

  Alanna had emerged and stood, rubbing at her eyes. Even in the dim light of the wintry day, her creamy skin appeared to glow, lending her an ethereal beauty. Darrick noted the stunned looks on the weary faces of the small band and braced himself for their reaction.

  “She is Sidhe,” breathed the lad, using another, more ancient name for the Fae. Frowning, Geoffrey opened his mouth to speak but, at a gesture from Darrick, closed it.

  As Alanna approached at a gliding walk, one by one the small troupe dropped to their knees. Whether they paid homage because she was Fae or if they had somehow ascertained that she was a princess, Darrick knew not.

  Amusement warring with impatience, he waited for Alanna to Alanna reach his side.

  “What foolishness is this?” With this quiet rebuke, he bade them to rise. Heads bowed, they ignored him.

  Darrick rubbed the back of his neck, suppressing his anger with difficulty. Exhaustion and rage rode too close to the surface. These were mere peasants, a troupe of entertainers. They’d done little to warrant a warrior’s fury.

  “Rise.” Alanna’s soft voice had the desired effect. In unison, they scrambled to their feet. Their delighted wonder showing on their faces, they all stared silently.

  “From where have you come?” she asked, unsmiling.

  “From the coast,” the young lad replied. Having apparently designated himself as spokesman for the group, his confident grin widened. “`Tis winter, and the cold forces us to travel inland.”

  “I see. And where do you go?”

  He shrugged. “We follow the wind.”

  Though his answer wasn’t a true answer at all, Alanna accepted it with a dip of her chin. Her sharp gaze was somber as she studied each of them in turn.

  “Know you of Morfran, Lord Mortimer?” she asked. “Or of Gorsedd, his advisor. I know not if they travel together or apart, but each would be well-guarded.”

  At the boy’s slow nod, Darrick stepped forward. “What news?” Unsuccessful at tamping his anger this time, he knew his voice sounded harsh and threatening.

  Startled, the boy’s grin faded. Nevertheless, he stood his ground, jutting his chin forward. He did not answer.

  “Please.” Alanna moved, one hand held out before her, beseeching. “We must find Morfran and this other.” She swallowed. “They have taken my son and his mother. If you have news of them, any at all, I must know.”

  Glancing over his shoulder at his troupe, the lad waited for the woman to give a slow nod before turning back to Alanna.

  “We have seen Lord Mortimer’s army,” he said, grimacing. “Most of them travel west, into the setting sun. Many join them and the villages whisper of war.”

  She took a step towards them. “Did you see a child, and another Sidhe, a man with hair the color of frost? Caradoc – my son – is nearly five summers now, and the one who took him is called Gorsedd.”

  At first the young traveler shook his head. Then, seeming to reconsider, he gave a quick nod.

  “What?” Leaning forward eagerly, Alanna dropped her hand. “Did you see him?”

  The boy’s mother stepped forward. “Lucjan,” she rebuked him. “Do not give the lady false hope. Little can we afford such powerful enemies. We saw no such child.”

  Alanna’s shoulders slumped. Then, she straightened. Visibly regaining her composure, she looked at the boy, her face a regal mask. “Tell me what you saw.” Command was in her voice.

  The boy bowed his head. �
�We saw no silver-haired man, Sidhe or otherwise.”

  “Sidhe.” Geoffrey hissed the word. Drawing his sword, he glanced at Darrick. “Bah. They are nothing but liars and thieves. Let me run them off. When they are further down the road I will rest easier.”

  “Hold.” Though Darrick gave his order quietly, Geoffrey sheathed his sword. Still watching Alanna, he knew that despite Lucjan’s denial, she too sensed there was more the boy hadn’t said.

  “Tell me of the child you saw.” Still the thread of authority rang in her voice.

  Now Lucjan’s mother stepped forward, her lined face creased with worry, fear shining from her dark eyes.

  “We are simple wanderers,” she said. “When we came upon their camp, we bartered with them. Services in exchange for food and coin.”

  “Services?”

  “The old one looks into the future,” she indicated the hooded crone who remained at the back of the small band. “This Morfran, he came to us, with much silver. He wanted to know his fate.”

  Though Alanna listened quietly, Darrick saw impatience in her shifting feet.

  “What did she tell him?”

  Terror flashed across the woman’s face. Before she could speak, the wizened fortune-teller pushed her way to the front of the group.

  “`Tis forbidden to speak of what we saw in his palm.”

  “Forbidden?” Darrick raised his sword. “What of the child? Do you see her son?”

  Her eyes narrowed, she stood her ground. “There were two children, both cloaked and well-guarded. We did not see their faces, nor note the color of their eyes or their hair. We know not if one was the son you seek.”

  “What became of them?”

  “After we told his fortune, Morfran separated them. When Morfran and his main army continued north, the children did not go with him. Instead, he sent out two sets of guards. One rode east, the other west. Each took a child.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Alanna nearly cried out. Instead, she took a step backwards, colliding with Darrick. To her surprise, he put his strong arms around her, holding her in place. Fear, as familiar as the sound of her heartbeat, coursed through her. She stiffened. Reluctant to cause a spectacle, she stood rigid and let him hold her, while her breath caught in her throat.

  “How long ago?” Darrick addressed the troupe. “How many days since you saw them?”

  Lucjan tilted his head. “`Twas only yesterday, mayhap the day before. If you ride hard and fast, you may catch them.” Looking pleased with himself, the boy cast Alanna a shy smile.

  A day or two. Glancing at her own group of horses, Alanna wondered how quickly they could go. She herself could easily exist on little sleep or food, but the others were human, and had not rested nor eaten. Though the horses needed time to rejuvenate as well, she could ill afford to tarry long.

  “What now?” Geoffrey spoke into the sudden silence, his voice harsh. “How do we know which way to go? How can we find out which child is yours?”

  No one answered.

  “What of my lady mother?” Darrick’s voice rumbled against her ear. Releasing her, yet keeping one arm loosely around her shoulder, he addressed Lucjan. “Did you see a noblewoman traveling with them? The lady Rowena is also Morfran’s prisoner, and his sister. She bears a strong likeness to him.”

  Slowly both Lucjan and his mother shook their heads.

  “An entire village seemed to journey with them. Many numbered in his retinue, and his army was quite large. There were scores of women, both of noble birth and otherwise.”

  “What of the children? Did he send a woman with them?”

  “Each child had a nursemaid, though `twas commonly assumed they were the children’s mothers. One of them was an older woman, and seemed more refined than most.”

  Alanna heard Darrick’s sharp exhalation. In addition to her anxiety over her son, she feared for Rowena’s sanity. She shuddered. What a hellish nightmare the other woman’s life must have become, subjected to Morfran and his deviant ways. If she’d been lucky enough to travel separately from him, how greatly her suffering would have eased.

  Morfran. Their hated enemy. If he traveled with so many, his progress must be slow. The guards and their young charges, on the other hand, most likely moved more swiftly. Overtaking them seemed a remote possibility.

  Still, they had no choice if they were to find Caradoc and Rowena.

  “What now?” Geoffrey repeated. His gaze raked over Alanna before summarily dismissing her. Frowning, he looked to Darrick.

  Stepping neatly out from under his arm, Alanna turned and did the same. She saw the same man she’d confronted while defending his keep, the warrior Darrick, who seemed almost a stranger to her.

  With his legs spread in a battle stance, feet planted firmly in the ground, he appeared harsh, ready for action, whether spoiling for a fight or riding on.

  This was not the Darrick of her memories, nor the Darrick she was gradually coming to know. So different did he seem from the slender men of Rune, she could not help but stare. So long had she only moved among her own people, she’d nearly forgotten how appealing the raw masculinity of a human male could be.

  Darrick. Who did she seek to fool? As Fae, she could not lie to others, only to herself. Never could she forget the man before her, a man whom she’d once loved, whose children she’d wanted to carry…

  Forcing her attention back to the situation before her, Alanna glanced down at her hands. So tightly did she clutch them together, she’d probably be bruised on the morrow.

  In the dusty road, the small band of travelers continued to wait silently, expectant. Lucjan, the only child among them, kicked at the dusty road, raising clouds of amber-colored dirt. He met Alanna’s gaze, a plea in his, though he continued to wear his lopsided smile.

  “Let them go,” Darrick ordered. “They have done us no harm. Indeed, their news has greatly helped us.”

  Geoffrey made a rude sound but moved back.

  At his mother’s prodding, Lucjan boldly took a step towards them. “Have you food you can spare? Or,” his bright gaze pinned Alanna expectantly, “are there any among you who would like to know the future? For a small price, my nonna will tell you what lies in store.”

  Geoffrey snorted. Darrick shook his head.

  When no one answered, Lucjan took another step towards Alanna, so close he could reach out and touch her. “We will tell yours for nothing.”

  Alanna started. Then, heart pounding, she shook her head. “Even when the Oracle of Rune wanted to tell me my future, I refused. I do not wish to know. So I refuse now.”

  For a moment the boy appeared startled, then gave a slight bow. “I understand.”

  Did he? Resisting the compulsion to ruffle his hair, Alanna concentrated on breathing. Though he was a few years older than her son, he was still a child. Her mother’s heart ached so to hold Caradoc that she could scarcely bear it.

  “Enough of this foolishness.” Darrick moved between them, his fierce frown sending the boy scurrying back towards his family. “`Tis time for you to move on.”

  Alanna touched Darrick’s arm. “Have we food to give them? A small portion perhaps? I can’t bear to see any child go hungry.”

  Glancing down at her small hand, so white on his brown jerkin, he barked an order. One of his men hurried to obey, bringing forth a cloth-wrapped bundle containing bread and hard cheese. He handed this to Alanna, who held it out to Lucjan.

  With a gravity far older than his years, the child came forward and took it. “Blessings upon you, my lady.”

  “And upon you.” Alanna raised her voice, wanting to make certain all heard her. “Go forth in peace. None shall bother you in your crossing. If you go to Thorncliff, tell them we sent you and you will be fed.”

  Geoffrey looked to Darrick, exasperation plain on his face.

  Watching only Alanna, Darrick gave a slow nod.

  The older woman dipped her head and smiled serenely. “As we will. Bless you.”

  A
lanna watched them go. As did Darrick and Geoffrey, none of them speaking. Waiting until they were small specks on the horizon, she turned and walked back to the tent without looking at either man.

  It seemed but an instant had passed when Darrick woke her. She sat up swiftly, nearly colliding with his chin as he rocked back onto his heels to avoid her.

  “What is it?” Her heartbeat hammered in her throat.

  “You must wake. We must go.” His gaze touched on her, bringing heat. “You were sleeping so deeply, I hated to wake you.”

  “Of late, I’ve not slept well.” Still groggy, she shook her head to clear it. With a sigh she combed through her tangled and mussed hair, pushing it back from her face.

  Darrick’s eyes darkened. She heard his harsh intake of breath, noticed his quickening breathing. With horror, she realized her disheveled state aroused him.

  Carefully, she climbed to her feet, keeping a good distance and a raised blanket between them. She found herself looking for a weapon – mere habit that, as she knew Darrick would never hurt her.

  “What is wrong?”

  “I do not wish to speak of it.” Answering too quickly, she continued to back away. The side of the tent stopped her. Still, she held the blanket to her chin, keeping the rest of her from view.

  Darrick scowled. “You behave as though you fear me.”

  She managed to laugh, though to her own ears it sounded hollow. “Mayhap I do. You watch me as though you’d like to bed me.”

  His scowl deepened. “I had forgotten how forthright you are.” He spread his hands. “I’ve always found you desirable, Alanna. You are a beautiful woman.”

  With effort she kept her voice level, not wanting him to see the stark fear that made her insides tremble. “No man has touched me since that night Morfran--” she stopped, unable for a moment to go on. Once, secure in her burgeoning sexuality, she had delighted in the feel of Darrick’s hands on her body. With his brutal, vicious rape, Morfran taken such pleasures from her forever.

  “I am not he.” Darrick’s tone was fierce. “I would never do such a thing to you.”

  “I know.” Quickly she spoke, so quickly that his eyes narrowed further. “I know who you are, Darrick. I remember another time, as do you. But those times, those moments between us are gone forever, never to be regained.”