Kinshield's Redemption (Book 4)

by K. C. May

  “What’re you here for, old man?” the woman asked. “To get your stiffy back?” She cackled.

  “That ain’t far from the truth,” he said with a half-snarl. “What about you?”

  Her smile vanished behind the shadow that passed over her face. “I been seein’ things lately. Strange images o’ghostly cat people in my room. My grandmother had The Gift, you know. She used to see and talk to the departed. I hope Miss Jennalia can tell me if I have it too.”

  Cat people—that sounded like the Elyle. But how could this woman see Elyle? “Tell me about these cat people. When did your visions start?”

  “A couple days ago. I only seen ’em twice, but they’re about your height, though more slender, and their skin looks like short fur.” When she saw he was paying close attention and not laughing, she went on, though she leaned in and lowered her voice. “Their faces look like cats, with pointed ears atop their heads, but their eyes are the strangest I ever seen. They change colors.”

  Gavin stared at her, both intrigued and alarmed. Her visions of Elyle had started right about the time he removed the Nal Disi from the water. That couldn’t be coincidence.

  “Maybe I have The Gift too,” she said, a proud lilt in her voice. “Late bloomer.”

  Gavin smiled, though he feared the answer was much more ominous than that.

  “Or maybe you’ve got a touch o’madness,” the horse trainer said.

  The door to Jennalia’s cottage opened. A woman and child stepped out, smiling and thanking the old mage profusely.

  “You are welcome,” Jennalia said in her warbling voice. She was such a tiny thing, no bigger than a six-year-old child, but with a long gray ponytail and eyes that were white with blindness. “Who is next?” She turned directly to Gavin and offered a wide, toothless smile. “Look who is here, and with vusar no less. I am honored, my friend. Please come in.”

  The people waiting complained loudly that they’d arrived first, but she waved them off. “This is my most important client. He always comes to front of line. Come, come,” Jennalia sang, opening her arms widely and stepping back to let them in.

  “Cirang, wait with the horses,” Gavin said.

  “Yes, my— my pleasure.”

  Gavin didn’t let his and Daia’s disguises fall until Jennalia had closed the door behind them.

  Though her eyes were blind, she saw everything well enough with her hidden eye. “Watch out your head,” she said, shuffling past them to the dresser. “Is light bright enough for you?”

  The glowing ball of dried grasses wasn’t as bright as the light balls he made, but it was sufficient for such a small cottage. “It’s fine,” he said.

  “You are stronger now, more skillful.” She went to the table and sat. “Please sit. I am also glad to see vusar return. Perhaps when you are leaving, I will whack your head and steal her for myself.” Jennalia giggled like a child, with her hands covering her nearly toothless mouth.

  Gavin laughed politely, as did Daia. “You’d have to stand on a ladder to reach that high,” he said, taking a seat at the table opposite Jennalia.

  The old mage cackled. “A ladder. Yes, yes. You tickle my bones. Ah, well, is good to see you again, King. Many changes in you since last time, yes? I am glad for you to follow your path. A ribbon was burned.”

  “What does it mean, a ribbon was burned?” Daia asked, taking a seat at the table between Gavin and Jennalia.

  “It is means you have paid debt owed by your soul. That is not why you are come. How I can help you today?”

  He wasn’t sure he truly believed this business about debts, but she did have one right—his debt to King Arek. It was the only debt of the soul that he knew about, and he’d paid it back by becoming king. “How long have you been using magic?” he asked. “Does it pain you?”

  “I’ve been using magic since I was a small child,” Jennalia said. “The cost is quite high, as you can see.”

  “I beg your pardon?” Daia asked.

  “It’s made you blind?” he asked.

  “Yes, and aged. I probably look about one hundred years old to you. That’s what using magic for so long does.”

  “Sorry, what was that?” Daia asked. “I can’t understand you.”

  “I’ve only had magic power for about a year,” Gavin said. “What’s it going to do to me?”

  “Gavin, do you understand her?” Daia asked.

  “Yeh,” he said in a questioning drawl. “Didn’t you?”

  “Not a word.”

  Jennalia giggled. “I was speaking my native language of Farthan. You use magic to understand me.”

  “Oh, yeh. My ears tell me you’re speaking in Farthan, but in my head, I understand you as if you’re talking my own language.”

  “Forgive me, vusar,” she said in the common tongue. “It is work to speak your language. I can explain better his questions in Farthan.”

  Daia sighed and crossed her arms. “It’s fine.”

  “Having the power to do magic is itself benign,” Jennalia explained, turning back to Gavin. “Using magic has a cost. Magic is fueled by the essence, but essence is like a bucket that must always be full. When you scoop out a cup, it refills itself from the physical body. Your muscles become weakened, your skin shrivels, your eyesight and hearing fade, teeth loosen, bones grow brittle. Magic ages you.”

  Gavin nodded and then remembered that she couldn’t see him. “I get a headache and bloody nose from it. The harder the magic is to do, the more it hurts. Sometimes I faint.”

  “That’s right. You spend your essence like money for every spell you cast, and it refills itself by drawing from your body. It takes its toll in different ways, depending on the complexity and your skill. Simple spells like the light balls cost very little, but they do have a price. Spells like healing and fighting with magic age you the most. It has taken only thirty years for me to age so many years.”

  “You’re only thirty years old?”

  “Thirty six. I lost my chance to have a child when I was only seventeen years old, and I wasn’t yet betrothed. As a man, you can continue to father children as you age, but as a woman...” She shook her head regretfully. “I didn’t realize until it was too late. I didn’t have anyone to explain these things to me.”

  Gavin let that sink in a moment. He was slowly killing himself with every spell he cast, even the simple ones such as creating light balls and freezing water. “I have something I want you to see.” He shrugged out of his knapsack and pulled out the Nal Disi.

  “Goodness! What do you have here?” Jennalia asked. “Something amazing and powerful.”

  “Can you see it?” He set it on the table.

  “Oh, yes, I see it. It can save you from my fate. You’re fortunate, indeed, King.”

  “You mean the aging?” Gavin asked.

  “Yes, yes. Now,” Jennalia said, “let me have a look at that beauty.”

  Seen with his eyes, it was a plain, white crystal, but to his hidden eye, it glowed brilliantly from within, sparkling in all colors of the rainbow.

  The mage put her hands on the crystal, feeling its edges and angles. To his surprise, she didn’t pull back in shock as Daia and Cirang had. “It contains pure, strong essence. It is equal parts zhi and kho. Did you put it in there?”

  “No, not really.” He quickly recounted the events of the previous couple days, explaining how he’d pulled the leaking essence back into the gem.

  “Where did it come from, this crystal?”

  Gavin told her the story of how the two Elyle tried to merge their essence but failed, becoming trapped within the crystal. “I talk to them, ask questions. They help me by telling me what they know.”

  “They? It is the essence of more than one being?” Jennalia asked.

  “Two o’them. I call them the Guardians.”

  “No wonder it is so strong. I wish I’d found this gem myself when I was young. I would still be beautiful and have all the men clamoring for my hand.” She laughed her child-
like laugh behind her hands. “Oh, but this is a marvel.”

  “Are you saying I can use the essence in this gemstone to cast magic and spare my own?”

  “Yes, precisely so. It’s like having free magic.”

  “No, Emtor,” the Guardians said, fading into view. “You must not. The essence is ours.”

  Jennalia gasped, directing her gaze more or less at the Guardians’ ghostly figures. “The stork’s stolen song! The essence speaks. What do they say?”

  “You hear them? They claim the essence as their own.”

  “Bah!” she said. “They aren’t alive.”

  “That’s true, but they have consciousness, which means they’re not dead either.”

  “You harm no one by using their essence. It has no living body from which to replenish itself, and so the essence will gradually diminish as you use it, but it is strong. It is probably enough to use for the rest of your life, depending on how much magic you do, of course. I’ll teach you to use it. It is simple to do.”

  “The Guardians forbid me to use it that way,” he told her.

  “King, you must remember that they have no further need of it, but it can save you. After so many years without a king, this country deserves to see you live a long and healthy life and father many children to carry on your legacy.”

  She had a point. The Guardians had no living flesh to sacrifice. Was it immoral to use the essence of beings that were already dead and buried? The Guardians’ spirits would eventually be freed to pursue their next lives. He would be doing them a service. Still, the notion made him uncomfortable. Until he convinced them to let him use their essence, he had to respect their wishes.

  Jennalia’s face opened into an O, and her eyes widened. With one bony hand pressed to her heart, she gasped. “No, it cannot be.” Her white eyes quivered a moment, and she put up both hands, palms out, and pushed.

  “What’s wrong?” Gavin asked.

  “I refused it. It is gone now.”

  He raised his eyebrows in surprise. Had the Guardians threatened her with illusion? “Refused it? How?”

  “The Guardians, as you call them, created an illusion to intimidate me. By refusing it, I canceled its effect.”

  “Would you teach me how to refuse their illusions too?” he asked, excited. If they couldn’t frighten him with illusion, they would have no power against him.

  Jennalia gave him a gummy smile. “Yes, happily. Then you can use their essence to perform magic without consequence.”

  Chapter 13

  Feanna Kinshield sighed again as she shifted on the hard, narrow seat of the carriage. She’d ridden on saddles more comfortable than this, and she was the bloody queen. She was supposed to be living a life of luxury, and sitting on a sore arse day after day was a far cry from her due.

  “Are we almost there?” she asked.

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” Lilalian answered, riding beside the carriage. “We’ll reach Saliria in a few hours, and Tern is only another six from there. Do you want to stop for a rest?”

  “Heavens no! I’m about to die of boredom. Talk to me, Lila. Tell me about your time with Ravenkind, when you did his bidding.” Feanna plumped the seat cushion under her arse, ready to hear a captivating tale.

  “Those were the darkest days of my life, and I’ve tried to put them behind me.”

  Feanna frowned, considering the notion of dark days. These last few days had been unpleasant because of her imprisonment, though she wouldn’t have said they were dark. Something had changed in her. Gavin and others had told her she’d changed, but more than that, she felt it. Inside, she was the same person, but her outlook had changed. Things she cared little about before were now foremost in her mind. What had recently been her passion was now trite and dull. In her opinion, she was better now. Stronger. She felt free in a way she’d never experienced before. If Lilalian had been like this during her time with Brodas Ravenkind, then why would she think of those days as her darkest? Had she not felt the freedom from the petty morality that kept other people prisoner?

  “You must be quite angry with Gavin,” she said, nodding.

  “No, he freed me from Ravenkind’s influence,” Lila said. “He has my gratitude.”

  “But Ravenkind set you free from morals. Gavin made you their prisoner again.”

  “That’s not true,” Lila said, scowling. “I knew what I was doing was wrong even as I did it, but I had no power to refuse his will. I was truly his puppet in every sense. The conflict inside me was slowly driving me mad.”

  Losing interest, Feanna waved her hand dismissively at the battler. Lila wasn’t the same as Feanna. She was imperfect. If Lila moved closer, Feanna could reach out and feel the cowardice and submissiveness. Damn Gavin for imprisoning her good and loyal guards, Anya, Hennah, Mirrah and Adro.

  Adro. She warmed at the thought of his boyish dimples and deft fingers. He hadn’t managed to consummate their affair before Gavin started beating down the door, but everything about him had promised it would have been a memorable experience. Ah well, there was no chance of that happening now. Gavin had been angry enough to tear his head off and eat it raw. Feanna giggled to herself. What an amusing sight that would’ve been.

  Tennara called for a halt, and the carriage slowed to a stop, as if they weren’t already taking a horrendously long time to reach Tern. Feanna leaned her head out the window to see what was happening. “Why have we stopped?”

  “Stay in the carriage, Your Majesty,” Tennara called.

  How dare she command me? Feanna pulled the latch on the carriage door, ready to demand an apology, but before she pushed the door open, Lilalian leaned over and slapped one of those hideous wooden gargoyles on the door. A jolt of pain snapped up her arm. “Ouch! You wretched whore. Let me out this instant or I swear I’ll have your head.”

  “It’s for your safety, Your Majesty,” Lilalian said. She rode ahead to where the four guards gathered, talking in hushed tones.

  “What are you doing? Tell me right now.” Unable to get their attention, unable to get out of the carriage, Feanna let out a scream of frustration and pounded the seat with both fists. That hurt, too, which only made her angrier.

  Tennara rode back to the carriage door. “I’m sorry for the delay, Your Majesty. We saw an alarming vision in the road and didn’t want to take any actions that might risk your well-being.”

  “Well, what was it?”

  “It looked like a creature not of this world.”

  Feanna pursed her lips and twitched them side to side. “What did it look like? Where did it go?”

  “I didn’t get a good look at it before it disappeared, Your Majesty. One minute it was there, and the next it was gone. There’s no cause for concern at the moment, but we’ll remain watchful. If this being means you harm, we’ll stop it.”

  Lilalian took up her position beside the carriage, and they started off again. Feanna watched out the window, hoping for a glimpse of this being from another world. A mile went by, and then another, and she was bored again. She huffed out her breath, directed upward to blow a stray strand of hair out of her face. This incessant journey through the land of boring and dull was far more dangerous than any otherworldly being.

  She stood, bracing herself against the front wall of the carriage while she poked through her bags to look for something to occupy her time. Her fingers brushed something familiar—a thin leather thong. She hooked one finger around it and pulled it out, a flicker of excitement quickening her pulse.

  Gavin’s warrant tag.

  It was the rectangular, wooden tag that had once granted him the right to mete out justice in the name of the Lordover Lalorian. It was inscribed on one side with the image of a wolf and on the other with his name and the lordover’s official emblem. She’d taken to keeping it with her wherever she went so that she could always stay in touch with what he was feeling, but with everything she’d needed to do in Ambryce, she’d forgotten about it. Let’s catch up, shall we, darling?

&
nbsp; Sinking back down onto her seat, she clutched it in her right hand. With her eyes closed, she shifted. His feelings of excitement and hope filled her. “Ick!” she said, flinging the tag away as if it had turned into a cockroach in her palm. Being an empath had never been easy, but it had been useful. Now the feelings she’d once cherished revolted her. Excitement was a good, strong emotion, but she never wanted to feel hope again. It was an emotion of weakness, for a truly powerful person would be in control of his life and have no use for hope. Gavin Kinshield was many things, admirable things. He’d never struck her as weak until now. Now she saw him for what he truly was: a hapless wretch. He disgusted her, as did the thought of being trapped in a marriage to such a man.

  And she carried his pathetic son, surely another weakling like his father.

  If only there was a way to get it out of her without risking injury to herself. Perhaps the herbs that whores mixed into their tea would kill the princeling and leave her unharmed. Oh, but she’d waited too long. The thing had already ruined her figure and had to be hidden beneath gowns with fuller skirts.

  She punched her belly in frustration. Pain bored into her, clenching her insides like they were caught in the jaws of a starving jackal. She sucked in a breath, hunching over reflexively. So the Gavin-seed could fight back. She would see about that.

  She glared at the warrant tag lying on the opposite seat. This was all Gavin’s fault. She picked up the wooden tag, intending to throw it out the window, knowing it would upset him when he found out. With her arm cocked back and ready to let it fly, she paused, wondering whether she could double-shift through the tag like when touching the subject directly.

  There wasn’t any reason it wouldn’t work. In the past, she used her skill to know whether a missing person was alive or not simply by shifting and touching an article of their clothing, tool, or toy. The warrant tag had been more than that to him. It had represented his livelihood, his morals, his very identity. Until the day he’d given it to her, he had never taken it off.