Soul Magic

by Karen Whiddon

  “If they are what we think they are, they cannot appear in daylight.” Alanna looked up at the still-black sky, frowning. “How long `til sunrise?”

  “Several hours. What are they?”

  “Demons from a place much like your hell. Ride faster.” Now they urged the horses into a gallop. Hooves thundering, they rode into the black night. Behind them, their pursuers kept coming, narrowing the distance.

  The night air became more chilled, more foul.

  “Ugh.” Alanna shuddered. “They are nearly upon us. We must find a solution quickly.”

  In the gloom ahead, something white and ghostly appeared.

  “A church.” Geoffrey spoke up, pointing.

  They burst upon it, the fog having grown so thick they could barely see the place until mere yards away.

  The wooden structure would afford scant protection. Yet in these type of battles Alanna knew that belief counts for more than most swords. If Geoffrey and his men truly thought the church would provide protection, who was she to say otherwise? After all, most of these old churches were built on top of pagan temples.

  And, `twas better than nothing.

  The church was deserted, the heavy wooden doors unbolted. They brought the horses inside too, dismounting and tying the animals to a post inside the door.

  On foot, they entered the sanctuary as a group. It was a small, country church, simple and unadorned. In all the commotion, Ellette stirred in Alanna’s arms and woke.

  “Mama?” she cried. “Mama?”

  Feeling as though her heart might break, Alanna hushed her. “Shhh, little one. It will be all right.”

  Blessedly, the child fell silent.

  A few steps later, they reached the altar and stopped. Like the rest of the church, the holy place was simple and unadorned. Wide-eyed, the men huddled together, Geoffrey at their center. Darrick, Sarina and Alanna stood apart. Ellette cried out again, squirming to be put down. She began to sob, her piteous cries seeming to ring out in the tiny sanctuary.

  “Shhh.” This time the child ignored her. Finally Alanna set her down, holding Ellette’s hand tightly while she jerked against Alanna’s arm.

  Outside the wind began to howl.

  With a gulp, Ellette ceased her crying. She held out her arms to Alanna, wanting comforting. Alanna scooped her up, murmuring wordless sounds and smoothing back the baby-fine hair.

  The building creaked and groaned, shuddering. The horses grew restless, nervously whickering and stamping their feet. The wooden structure began to shake, and Alanna heard the roof thatch screech as parts of it peeled away as though by giant claws.

  Falling to his knees, Geoffrey began to chant his prayers. A couple of the men joined him. Alanna looked to Darrick, to see what he would do.

  Instead of praying, Darrick came forward. He motioned to Alanna to set the child down. Slowly, she did, watching as Darrick held out his hand to Ellette. Peering up at him, unafraid, she chortled and took it, her chubby fingers swallowed in his larger ones. He then motioned to Sarina, who understood immediately and went to him, grasping the child’s other hand.

  In turn, Sarina looked at Geoffrey, beckoning to him urgently. Continuing with his prayers, he ignored her, closing his eyes and raising his voice.

  Darrick shook his head as she closed the circle by taking Alanna’s other hand in his.

  A circle! An ancient way of gathering power. Pleased that Darrick remembered, Alanna reached deep inside herself, knowing Sarina would do the same. Whatever spark of magic remained within her, Alanna sought to call it forth, fanning it and urging it to blossom. She had little left, not nearly enough for such a Herculean task. But she had to try. Otherwise, they would all die and she would never see her beloved son again.

  The roar of the wind became a bellow. A summoning.

  “Close your eyes,” Alanna shouted, even as she watched the walls of the church began to bleed in oozing sores. She could not wait to see if the men obeyed her, instead shut her eyes and continued to focus on her tiny flame of power that fluttered to life in her mind.

  The answer came to her in a rush.

  “A shield. We must erect a shield.”

  “How much can you summon?” Sarina gasped, her grip on Alanna’s hand painful. “Please tell me you can call upon more than I.”

  Alanna could tell her no such thing. Even as she sought to erect a protective shield, the thing’s full fury reached them. Blackness. Jagged bolts of energy. Roiling hatred. All with bludgeoning force.

  “Aiyeee.” One of the men screamed as the altar tumbled, crashing on top of him.

  A second later, the dark riders rode full tilt into the church. They crashed into the wooden structure, and the building began to fall.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Heat. Burning. Fire. What the--? It felt as though flame seared his flesh, pain shooting up his arm to his hand and out through the tips of his fingers. Agony. Darrick grunted, the edges of his vision turning gray. With a shout he tried to yank his hand free from Alanna’s.

  He couldn’t. Their fingers seemed melded together.

  Head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut, her mouth worked in a soundless grimace. Evidently, she too felt the torture of the inferno generated by their touch.

  Human – Fae – poet and nobility - one pair of pairs. The legend, come to life?

  Looking at her, he tried to speak. Couldn’t – Dragon’s blood, he couldn’t even hear his own thoughts for the roaring in his ears. Or was it? Dazedly he realized the roaring wasn’t inside his head, but all around them, sweeping through the tiny church.

  Miraculously, most of the wooden structure still held. Buffeted by the force of the attack, ripped apart in places, one wall was down but three still stood upright. Still a structure, still a holy place. A church.

  Kneeling before the altar, Geoffrey continued to pray, his loud voice doing battle with the wind.

  Foul darkness swirled around them.

  Darrick could not see the horsemen – he wasn’t even certain they had corporeal forms. But as they attacked, he could hear them, their vicious shrieks and threats tainting the sanctified air.

  Then this, this blazing from him and the others. What was it? What did it mean?

  Exultation filled him as he realized it did battle with the dark forces.

  In the clash, the church shuddered. Held.

  Again Darrick suffered the heat, and when it felt as though the skin would surely peel from his body, he bellowed. A moment later Alanna screamed out his name.

  A second burst of White light. Blazing from his and Alanna’s joined hands. The force of it surged through him, from him, filling the sanctuary. It flashed, sweeping, cleansing, driving out the intruders.

  Darrick shouted again, this time in victory. Never had he felt such might, an elemental welding between himself and the forces of nature, culminating in power.

  Magic.

  Another flash, another shuddering of the air, and it ended. Instead of the awful roaring, Darrick heard a low-pitched hum. Then this too subsided into the ringing shock of silence.

  The pain in his arm subsided to an ache, then a tingle. He looked at Alanna. Still gripping his hand, she opened her eyes and laughed.

  Darrick found himself grinning back. He could not yet put words to what they had created between them, but they were alive and the threat was gone. It was enough.

  Ellette giggled, jerking her hands free. Lifting them skyward, she spun around in a joyful dance. A laughing Sarina joined her in her jubilant celebration.

  “What in the name of God was that?” Picking himself up off the floor and brushing away shards of wood, Geoffrey, goggled at them.

  “Magic,” Alanna said softly, still smiling at Darrick. “Somehow we made magic.”

  Belatedly he realized that he still gripped her hand. Releasing her, he glanced at the others.

  “Magic,” he said, seconding Alanna. “We made magic and it saved us.”

  “And what magic it was.” Still twirlin
g, Sarina dipped and spun over to Geoffrey. “I’ve not seen the like in my lifetime.”

  Geoffrey frowned, obviously trying to puzzle things out. Darrick knew he would not rest until he came up with what he deemed a rational explanation. Never would he believe the simple truth – that by magic they’d fended off the forces of darkness.

  One by one the rest of the men dusted themselves off and joined them, all of them unharmed.

  Ellette continued to pirouette and twirl, humming gaily.

  “Will you dance with me?” Standing before Geoffrey, Sarina smiled and held out her hand.

  Glaring down at her, his jaw worked. “I—no.”

  “Suit yourself.” With a spin, Sarina danced away, rejoining Ellette, who chortled with glee.

  “Have they lost their minds?” Geoffrey’s words rang out with conviction. “`Twas my prayers that saved us, nothing more. God chose to save us and we should fall on our knees and give thanks.”

  With all that he had seen, Darrick could not fathom how Geoffrey could still think in such a way. He shook his head, trying to clear the fog from his mind. “They merely celebrate in their own way.”

  Beside him, still laughing, Alanna shook her head. She tapped her feet, as though she’d like to join the other women. “We won, Geoffrey. Be glad.”

  Be glad. Darrick’s heart pounded in his chest. He still could not clear his head. First he’d need to make sense out of what had occurred this day. But when had he ever been able to make see clearly around Alanna?

  Feeling his eyes still on her, Alanna lifted her head. Their gazes locked. A spark of magic still lingered between them. Undeniable. Hot. Compelling.

  She gasped. Her lips parted.

  He focused on her mouth. So warm, so inviting. He wanted to—

  Magic.

  Alive.

  With a groan, he gave into the longing and bent his head. Capturing her mouth with his, he kissed her.

  Her lips were soft – impossibly so. A man could drown in the feel of them.

  So sweet…. He realized that, while she stiffened, she didn’t pull away.

  Then her mouth moved beneath his. Shocked, and more aroused than he would have believed possible, he stood stock-still while she kissed him back.

  Ah, another kind of flame blazed between them.

  Alanna. Darrick. It seemed the air whispered their names.

  His body still hummed from the magical force. His pulse pounded from Alanna’s touch and his breath came hard and fast. As they kissed, Alanna sighed with pleasure, and Darrick wrapped his arms around her. He pulled her closer, so that the entire length of their bodies touched.

  At this, she gasped and jerked herself away.

  Eyes wide, she breathed as though she’d been running.

  “I--”

  Someone made a sound and Darrick grew conscious of the others. Geoffrey appeared stunned, Sarina contemplative. The rest of his men seemed more concerned with their own survival than worrying about who their lord kissed.

  Finally, he let himself look once more at Alanna. Hand to her mouth, she’d backed away as though he’d forced himself on her.

  “Alanna, no.” He would not let her turn something so beautiful into a thing of base ugliness. “You felt it too.” He willed himself to calm. “I know you sensed what coursed between us. It heated your blood, the same way it heated mine.”

  She didn’t deny it – she couldn’t. Still, she watched him like a cornered doe, which frustrated and infuriated him.

  At first he nearly turned away, not wanting her to see his agitation. Then, realizing she needed to see how she affected him, he forced himself to hold still.

  Slowly, the color returned to her pale face.

  “Bravo!” Sarina clapped, her wide grin not entirely hiding her concern. “Nice to know you two still get along so well.”

  Not everyone shared her sentiment. Geoffrey looked as though he’d swallowed a live rat, whole.

  Suddenly, Darrick was utterly, totally tired of the entire mess.

  “Let’s get out of here.” He didn’t look at Alanna – or anyone - as he spoke. “We must find your son and I want to collect my mother and go home.” He wanted to deal with Morfran as well, though he would take each task one at a time.

  The horses were miraculously still tied where they’d been left. In silence the shaken group mounted and, with Darrick in the front and Geoffrey bringing up the rear, they rode forth from the broken church into the still pitch black night.

  Again they traveled until their horses were lathered and their sides ached. They rode until the rising sun chased off the moon. Blessedly, in the mad dash west they encountered no one.

  By the time they pitched camp, they were all exhausted. Conversation was limited as they rubbed down their horses and made ready to rest.

  Though Darrick knew Geoffrey wanted to speak with him, he did his best to avoid the man. Geoffrey however, was doggedly persistent. He tailed Darrick until he finally had no choice but to stop and give acknowledgement.

  “May I speak with you?”

  “A few hours sleep would do wonders for my disposition,” Darrick warned.

  “This won’t take long.”

  “It better not.”

  Grimacing, Geoffrey nodded. Darrick saw that he clutched something in his hand.

  “Is that a rosary?” Darrick studied the smooth beads in disbelief. He ran a hand through his hair, wishing just once Geoffrey would open his mind to other possibilities.

  “Yes.” Geoffrey tugged at his ears. “Since it seems the entire foundation of the world is shifting under my feet, I find comfort in the steadfastness of prayer.”

  Darrick nodded.

  “We need to find an abbey,” Geoffrey blurted, rubbing the rosary beads between his fingers.

  “An abbey?”

  “Yes.” Swallowing, Geoffrey bowed his head for a moment as though uttering a quick prayer.

  Of all the things Darrick might have expected him to say, it hadn’t been this.

  “Why an abbey?”

  “If we leave the women there, we might still be able to salvage our souls.”

  Ah, the temptation thing again.

  “I do not think Alanna and Sarina would go willingly to an abbey.”

  “I have thought of this. If we could convince them that by doing such a thing, they might help us--”

  “No.” Darrick pulled off his tunic, not bothering to hide his yawn. “`Twould never work.”

  “You don’t want it to work.”

  “Mayhap not.” With a shrug, Darrick indicated his blankets. “Right now I need to rest. You’d best find your own tent and do the same.”

  When the tone of command was in his lord’s voice, Geoffrey knew better than to argue. Mumbling under his breath, he took his rosary beads and left.

  Darrick hardly noticed him go. Exhaustion turned his bones to water. Hopefully he could claim a few hours of uninterrupted sleep before some other crisis disturbed him.

  Closing his eyes he tried to clear his mind and drift off to sleep.

  While he lay motionless the tent flap opened, letting in a flash of sunlight. She came to him, moving quietly, but not silent enough for a man with warrior’s instincts. Darrick sat up, his heart pounding. He peered at the silhouette standing in the tent flap, blinking against the sudden brightness as she dropped the flap closed and advanced on him.

  “Alanna?”

  “No.” Her throaty laugh sounded nervous. “`Tis Sarina. I wish to speak with you.”

  Disappointment flooded him. Concealing this, he groaned. “First Geoffrey, now you.”

  “Geoffrey came to talk to you?”

  With a gruff nod he patted the blanket beside him. “Aye. Sit.”

  “Thank you.” As she dropped to the ground beside him, he saw her face looked puffy, as though she’d been crying.

  He thought of Geoffrey, and the man’s almost palpable nervousness. Now Sarina.

  “Has something happened between you and Ge
offrey?”

  She gave a tense laugh. “No. Despite my every effort, your man wants nothing to do with me. But Geoffrey is not the reason I have come to see you.”

  Lifting a brow, he suppressed a yawn and waited.

  “`Tis Alanna.” The words burst from her in a rush. She looked away and he saw to his disbelief she was blushing. “I… I observed the way you kissed her.”

  “So did everyone. I made no attempt to hide. What of it?”

  Chewing her bottom lip, she looked down. She twisted her hands, which she clasped in her lap. “I would give much to have Geoffrey kiss me like that.”

  “Like what?” Impatient now, Darrick looked longingly at his blanket.

  “As though she was your entire world.”

  “So?”

  “I don’t want to see her hurt.”

  Without dismay he studied her. “Sarina, if you believe nothing else of me, know this - I would never hurt Alanna.”

  “I think you mean what you say.”

  “Of course I do.” Now he let his impatience show. “Is there anything else?”

  “I’m not finished.” With careful dignity she lifted her chin. “I know you wouldn’t ever intentionally hurt her. But there is the boy to consider.”

  “You mean Caradoc?”

  “Yes. Alanna loves her son.”

  Dragging his hand across his mouth, he shook his head. “So?”

  “Caring for her as you do, would you be able to love her son? Knowing how he was conceived? Aware that he is heir of your sworn enemy, Morfran?”

  “What of it? I will love her, and that is all that matters.” He lay back on the blankets, closed his eyes and hoped she would take the hint.

  “That’s not all that matters, Lord Tadhg. If you cannot bring yourself to care for her son as if he were your own, then you and Alanna have no future.”

  “You are wrong.” This time he didn’t bother to pretend alertness. Keeping his eyes closed, he yawned. “I think you’d better worry about your own difficulties, Sarina. Mine and Alanna’s are none of your concern.”

  “But--”

  “Go.”

  She made a sound of frustration and, when he didn’t open his eyes, made her way out of the tent.