Marked For Magic

by Daisy Banks

  Where would the next attack on the land come? Would who launch it?

  Farel seemed convinced Cassandra’s visions and his own, as he’d described to his lordship, were linked. He had also decided these were signs of an attack on the eastern borders by the aggressive, slaving, military rulers of the Hasenites.

  Though Lord Farel was usually an astute commander, on this occasion Thabit doubted the lord’s judgment. It was understandable perhaps that Lord Farel had fallen back on his normal expectations, rather than make use of what little information they had gathered.

  The Hasenite realm had suffered repeated bouts of a strange plague in recent years and though the Magean council of his homeland had sent aid at the request of their chief priest, still the Hasenite population suffered. Perhaps to the point their forces were depleted enough to prevent any military action. They had been quiet for near six moons.

  The danger did not come from that warlike nation.

  More might come from this scrying than Lord Farel believed. Perhaps more than he anticipated himself. Maybe whatever visions he received would help the doubts in his mind and convince his lordship to think again.

  The sun moved through noon while his thoughts settled. The distractions of the day left him. As ever, the faint hope he would once again commune with the immortals hovered at the back of his thoughts. He squashed the desire, for vanity alone gave him hope he might be honored on more than one occasion in his life. The gods spoke clear at his dedication, and he should expect no further direct attention. He stood and took his place, now ready to open his mind to messages from other realms.

  “Gods of the waters, gods of the stones, gods of the skies, and gods of the flame, hear my plea. Use me for your will. Take my strength and use it for your will. Hear my call and allow my mind to hear yours.”

  He picked up the vial he had prepared and lifted it in salutation to each of the candle sconces. Bitter on his tongue, the earthy taste of the mushroom brew soured his stomach.

  The brew is strong.

  The effect near instant, he staggered. The empty vial slipped from his grasp as he sank down to the floor. He let the intensity of sensations sweep over him as he waited for the images gifted from the gods to fill his mind.

  The first sprang strong and mouthwatering sweet. Golden hair shimmered before him. His fingers itched to unravel the long thick plait so he could stroke through the rippling, silken strands.

  A flash of red caused a surge of desire. He would take her slow and gentle, revel in each sweet sigh she made. The weight of warm, plump, soft flesh filled his palm. He squeezed a nipple between his fingers until it became rigid and hot. The pounding heat in his groin grew painful, and tearing himself from the experience, he pushed his thoughts on, away from the temptation of Nin. He waited while the intense mirage of colors shivered and moved.

  Riders suddenly leaped sharp into focus. The horse’s manes splayed out with a golden sheen like Nin’s hair. Armed riders in blue and scarlet uniforms charged forward. Horses pounded over autumn leaves that scattered in the wind. Lord Farel’s starry standard flashed proud before the troops as they rode toward the mountains, the western frontier, and the lowland marshes, bound for all the borders of the land.

  Is it from here attacks will come?

  He saw no sign of an enemy, merely the season’s changes to ready the land for winter’s grip.

  Smoke filled his mind. Sweet incense and bitter wood fires. Each aroma took him deeper into the visions.

  The nagging doubts of the last few days returned, his apprehension and confusion intensified by the brew. He sought control, and turned his mind again to the pictures wheeling above him in living, breathing colors.

  Smoke and flame.

  Death and the reek of the unburied.

  Screams of pain he could do little to aid rang out from the people. The lifted voices of hundreds called, and he could not even give them water for their parched throats. Hands clawed at him. Fevered eyes stared blind. The open mouths of the dead still seemed to cry their terror.

  All of it streamed through him.

  He closed his eyes, but could not shut out the images of corpse after corpse, all disfigured by black bruises and swollen, purple skin.

  A breathy yell strangled in his throat. Piles of dead multiplied until a yellow, sulphurous flame consumed them. A small, mottled purple hand, extended from a red sleeve within the blaze.

  “Gods, no!”

  Echoes of his cry reverberated around the chamber until they diminished to a whisper. The vision continued, unrelenting. He could not tear free. His body shook, muscles tense with the effort as he tried to close out the pitiful sights. The images pinpointed into blackness.

  Darkness came as a relief, but only lasted for seconds before the harsh wheeze of breath, the scent of smoke and ash filled him. He caught the shadows of rasped words, but they were too hushed to be clear. The slow sweep of a brush rustled over them, and the murmurs vanished.

  Grotesque sights piled in fast, one after another. Grain rotted in the fields as men fought on horseback at the forest edge. At the base of the mountains, they fought hand to hand, armed with staves and clubs, and in what had been the fertile, orchard-filled plains, women stood to ward off any who would challenge their children, who scrabbled, busy in piles of waste and among the dead.

  The land shriveled and died before him. All became desolate. The trees of the forests fell. Yellowed grasses bent, blasted by harsh winds. Spasms racked through his body as fires broke free to consume the land he had known as one of frequent plenty.

  Tears filled his eyes, but he could not weep, only lie still as the misery rolled through his mind.

  “Please, there must be a way! Gods, there must be something to be done.” His plea tore into the silence. He begged for the people, for the land, and himself.

  “The weapon is yours, if you will use it.” The sheer might of the voice reverberated through his chest, rolled and thrummed through him as if he were a harp string, the power so great his body hovered above the polished wood floor.

  He tried to grasp the deep voice, create a shield from all he saw, but the power slipped from him, lost in gloom. His head thudded with pain, and with all his control lost, he crashed to the floor. He twisted onto his side. The voice of the gods had been clear. They had not deserted the realm as his visions made him believe, but still cared, had spoken to give hope and guidance.

  A last wavering vision spilled through his thoughts. A gentle, sweet image of brilliance shone in the familiar, night-darkened land. A white pony stepped through the forest. The fresh smell of the grasses rose from its tread. The sturdy, smooth-coated beast bore a fair girl who rode alone. Light spilled from her, illuminating the branches until she journeyed out of his view.

  Exhaustion took him into deep blackness, where this time, he found peace.

  Chapter 11

  While Nin chatted with Tab and Cecile, Lady Cassandra returned to collect the cooled brew.

  “Shall I come with you, my lady?”

  “No, Nin, rest your feet. I think it will be after moonrise before the Mage is ready to go back to the tower. Perhaps you would like to go into the grounds with the girls?”

  She shook her head, comfortable here. Her feet no longer burned hot. Cecile and Tab were becoming her friends. Lady Cassandra smiled at the three of them and took the goblet away.

  “So, Nin, tell us, what’s he like? Is the Mage kind?” Cecile asked.

  “Yes, he’s kind, but sometimes he’s cross and grumpy. Today, he made me walk a lot farther than I would like.”

  Both the girls laughed, and she joined in.

  “Do you really love him?” Tab asked, as their laughter subsided.

  “I think so.” How could she explain it to them? “When I am with him, I am happy to be there. He makes me cross sometimes, but it doesn’t matter because I am with him. When he smiles at me, my insides turn to jelly.”

  Cecile
wore an understanding smile. Tab’s brown eyes glowed with inquisitive mischief. “Have you kissed him?”

  Nin closed her eyes. A long time seemed to have passed since she enjoyed sharing secrets, but she wasn’t sure she wanted them to know, or if she could explain how beautiful it had been for his warm mouth to be on hers. Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes.

  Both girls grinned.

  “As Lady Cassandra would say, your silence tells all. Was it so good, Nin?” Tab asked.

  Heat burned her cheeks, but she nodded.

  Tab’s hushed voice dropped even lower. “Will you share his bed?”

  “I’m his.”

  The door opened and the cobbler approached with a bow. He handed her the two pairs of shoes Lady Cassandra had ordered, then gave another low bow before he left.

  Cecile looked down to Nin’s bandaged feet, and her full lips narrowed. “You can’t wear the shoes without stockings. Even the summer ones will rub your feet. Do you have any stockings at home?”

  She shook her head. “I’ve no stockings at all.” The gray suede of the summer shoes were an expensive gift, but with her feet still sore, she was uncertain she’d be able to wear them today.

  “I thought not. Tab, we’ll go get a few things for Nin to take back with her to the tower.” Cecile dropped a light kiss on her cheek before she and Tab walked to the door.

  “We won’t be long,” Tab called as they left.

  The star caught Nin’s attention, and even though she didn’t sit on the cushions near it, she focused on the glow. Twice she had to clear her thoughts of the dark cloud seeping into her.

  She must ask Thabit if it was right to see so much darkness.

  “Hello, little blossom.”

  The male voice broke into her musings, and she swiveled on the chair. Behind her stood the youth who had ridden out to the tower.

  “I’m looking for Cecile. Have you seen her?”

  Pieces of the puzzle dropped into place. He was why Cecile understood.

  “Yes, she will be back shortly. I’m Nin.”

  “I heard. The news is all around the castle. Your name is on every guard’s lips. Nin, who is most fair to look upon and the new apprentice to the Mage, is here. There is much interest in the pages quarters, too. I think you will have many admirers.” His smile enchanted as he joined her at the table. “I am Rollo, esquire, messenger, general dogsbody to my uncle, Lord Farel.”

  “I’m pleased to meet you off horseback.”

  He laughed. “Speaking of horses, I’ve been ordered to find you a pony. Of course, as it’s for you, it has to be a white one. When Cecile gets back, we could go to the stables to see him.”

  A thrill ran over her. She nodded, unable to say anything in her excitement.

  Cecile came in with a large satchel in her hands. She gave a little cry as Rollo turned toward the door. “Rollo.” She dashed across the room, dropped the satchel on the table, and threw her arms around him.

  He winked at Nin. “It’s a disgrace. You see how roughly I’m handled.” He kissed Cecile’s cheek and moved from her embrace. “Do you all want to come down to the stables and see the pony that will take Nin home?”

  Cecile, who held Rollo’s hand, beamed. “Oh, yes!”

  “Do you think you can walk down to the courtyard?” Tab asked Nin.

  “To see a pony I’ll manage it.” She winced as she stood, but nodded, grateful for Cassandra’s gift, which meant she had no need to walk the distance back to the tower.

  “You two go ahead. We’ll meet you in a few moments when Nin has these socks on.” Tab waved her hands to usher Rollo and Cecile out the door. “Here, Nin.” She rummaged in the satchel for a few moments before she took a pair of long socks out of the leather bag. “We were certain these would fit.”

  Nin took off the loose bindings so she could pull the socks on. They were thick, comfortable, and cushioned her feet when she stood. “I can’t thank you enough.”

  “Oh, nonsense, we have to help each other, those of us with the mark. We only put a few bits and pieces in the bag. The kind of things we thought you might like. You know, perfume, a comb, a couple of spare petticoats, oh, and a nightgown. We know the tradition. You left the village barefoot with nothing. We didn’t think the Mage would have such things for you.”

  She’d not expected to find such generosity here. “I can’t begin to thank you and Cecile.”

  Tab smiled and wrapped an arm though hers. “We’re happy to share with you. Shall we go down to the stable to look at this pony?”

  * * * *

  The stables smelled of straw, heat, and horse sweat. Rollo led out a pony, its coat a snowy white, so it gleamed like a star in the twilight. Almost afraid to touch, Nin reached up and stroked along his strong neck. One dark eye held hers while she rubbed her hand over him.

  All her childhood, she had dreamed such an animal would be hers, and with his bright, intelligent eyes, this pony fulfilled all those dreams. A huge swell of gratitude to Cassandra surged through her. No one had ever been so generous, apart from Thabit, but his generosity was different. “What’s his name?” she asked.

  Rollo rubbed his hand over the pony’s ears. “He’s called Ice. The stable master here is not the most original of souls when it comes to names. Ice is a good little beast, and he will bear you safely. I’ll make sure you get a supply of winter fodder for him later in the year.”

  “Oh, I think I will be back here by then. The lady wants me to come and study.”

  Tab and Cecile cried out and wrapped her in their embrace.

  Tab pressed a kiss to Nin’s cheek. “Wonderful, I am glad. We can all look forward to the autumn celebrations. We will have a marvelous winter together.”

  When Rollo led him back into the stables, the pony snorted and stamped a dark hoof as though loath to leave Nin.

  Cecile lingered behind with Rollo, and neither Nin nor Tab looked back at the young lovers’ farewells in the shadows.

  “She’ll probably marry him in the next couple of years,” Tab said with a sigh as they headed back into the castle. “I’ll miss her.”

  “I’ll miss you both until Samhain.”

  “Not to worry. You’ll join us for a while, and just think, Nin, you will have all summer with your Mage.”

  The last of the twilight lit the sky above the towers and turrets. A speckle of the first stars gleamed in the lavender blue. She hadn’t seen him for hours.

  Should he have been away so long? Where was he?

  They walked slowly back to the comfortable workroom and sat by the fire. Lady Cassandra arrived. “Nin, can you be ready to leave soon? The Mage has spoken with my brother. I’m afraid Thabit only took a little of the potion we made. The rest, I have bottled for him to have when he gets back to the tower. You must see he drinks all of it. Do you know the way back well?”

  “The Mage knows the way. I’ll be with him,” she said.

  “I’m afraid he is a little woozy still. I wish he would stay, but he won’t. I’d give him a horse, but he refuses to ride. I’m afraid there are times when he can be a little stubborn.”

  She gave a nod, and though her feet weren’t right yet, she stood to give Tab a hug, then one for Cecile, who had just entered the room, face flushed and smiling. “I’ll see you soon. Thank you both so much.”

  The satchel clutched tight, Nin followed Cassandra back to the courtyard where the pony waited. Rollo held the bridle, and next to him, stood the Mage.

  The yellow hood of the magnificent embroidered robe covered his head. She could not see his face in its depths. When she got closer and looked up inside the shadow, his eyes took her breath. The flicker of light from the torches at the castle entrance showed his pupils dilated, like huge, black tunnels in his pallid face. He swayed slightly.

  She bit at her lip and glanced to Cassandra.

  Was he able to walk the distance to the tower? He looked as though he might collapse at
the first puff of breeze. How would she keep the wolves off him if they attacked? Could he manage to walk through the forest?

  He nodded, swept a hand toward the ground, and then on up toward the sky. “Yes, I need the earth beneath my feet and stars above me, and so we will go.”

  Rollo, who shook his head, tied the satchel to the pony’s saddle.

  “Good-bye, Nin, and remember our conversations. Mage, until we meet again, good journey to you.” Cassandra dipped into a curtsey.

  Nin returned the gesture while the Mage stiffly bowed his head.

  Apprehension filled her even with Cassandra’s smile of encouragement. Rollo helped her up into the saddle while the Mage held the bridle.

  “Good-bye, my lady, and thank you,” she called back as the pony stepped out.

  Cassandra waved to them from the great entrance.

  “Good journey.” Rollo’s voice carried to her as they headed down the causeway.

  Thabit swayed with each step as they crossed over the drawbridge to take the path back to the forest. The Mage reeled and weaved, mumbling strange words that made the pony nervous.

  She prayed Thabit’s condition would improve the more he walked. The forest path, all darkness and deep shadows, did little to still her fears. Occasional patches of bright moonlight relieved the gloom.

  The novelty of sitting the pony faded, and she grew uncomfortable after they had gone some distance. They entered the next pool of moonlight. Snatches of a tune reached her for the Mage sang to himself. His words were unfamiliar, but their rhythms lulled her, and his tone was one she’d like to hear again.

  Was it a love song?

  He hadn’t tripped over anything for a while. Perhaps the effects of the mushroom brew had begun to wear off. She had no idea it would make him like this. Thabit lurched like Crispin who tottered through the market square when he got drunk.

  Crispin’s stumbles had always made her laugh, but the Mage did not. The power Thabit possessed, he often hid, his skill veiled by his rare smile or his more usual frown. The intensity of his magic surged around him. Not since the night in the cage had she been so alone.