Tolivar nodded. “Does your sword have magic?”
“No. But it’s dwarf made,” he said proudly. “By Wobble folk.”
Tolivar nodded. “Do you think you could handle Meredith?”
“Me?” said the man with surprise. Tarah wondered why he hadn’t seen it coming. “Well yeah, but . . . what exactly does she do, sir?”
“She makes you angry,” Tolivar said with a warning tone. His dark eyes burned like coals. “She’ll help you shrug off wounds, but she’ll push you to the edge and make you fierce on the battlefield. If you’re not careful you can lose control. Many men died wielding her before I had her. Can you handle that kind of magic, son?”
The man blinked in hesitation and Helmet Jan elbowed him. “C’mon, Dinnis! This is exactly the sword you need.” She nodded to Tolivar. “The kid’s great with a sword, he just gets hesitant in the field. I think he saw too much in the war.”
“That ain’t true! I killed my share of monsters,” said Dinnis, and Tarah knew he had to be mortified at being called out in front of everyone. “But I don’t have much money to pay you with.”
“I’ll tell you what, Dinnis,” Tolivar said. He gestured to Bettie and she brought the sword over to the graduate. “I’ll make you a deal. A trade. My sword for yours.”
“Seriously?” Dinnis said.
“Holee mother of mud,” said Lenny. He whistled between the gap in his teeth. “That’s the deal of yer lifetime, son.”
“Is that responsible, Tolivar?” asked Miss Becca, her face concerned. “If that sword’s as dangerous as you say-.”
“I’ll take it!” said Dinnis, unsheathing his own sword and handing it to Bettie.
The half-orc passed Meredith over to him and he handled it with awe. It was immediately obvious to Tarah that it wasn’t going to fit his sheath. Meredith had to be a half inch wider and maybe a full inch longer than his old one.
Dinnis discovered this as he tried to slide it in and Bettie tapped his shoulder. “Gimme your sheath and I’ll alter it for ya.”
With that business done, Tolivar sat back down, a troubled look still in his eyes as he watched the young academy graduate remove his sword belt.
Djeri cleared his throat. “Well now that you’re all here, you’re probably wondering about the reason for our visit.”
“Not all,” said Bettie. “We’re still waiting on Samson.”
“He was on the far side of the farms when I asked him to return, but he’ll be here soon,” Tolivar said. The infant in Nala’s arms chose that moment to let out a squeal, drawing the warrior’s eyes to it. He looked at the woman as if noticing her arrival for the first time. A little bit of the stress left his features. “Morning, Nala. What brings you here?”
She smiled slightly, watching him with a calculating expression. “It’s going to be midday soon. I was hoping I might convince you to come down and show Stephen some of that knot work you told him about.”
“Oh,” he said, nodding. “I would, but I’ve got some business to take care of here. Maybe later?”
“I can wait,” she said and turned her eyes back down to the baby. She smiled and reached in, jiggling its chin. Tolivar opened his mouth as if about to say something in reply, but instead shrugged it off.
The door to the outside opened again and an enormous man ducked his head in. He was huge. The way he stooped over as he leaned in through the door, he had to be part giant. “Sorry I’m late,” he said in a deep voice and proceeded to squeeze his way trough the door. He was wearing a winter coat that seemed a bit small for him, but there was something else wrong. Tarah heard a clatter of hooves and had to twist around completely and stare. The man’s upper body was somehow attached to the front end of a large warhorse. He grunted. “Tolivar? Do you think you could help, here?”
“I’m trying,” Tolivar replied, grimacing, his eyes squeezed shut.
“Don’t you think you should learn to do this yourself like Gwyrtha?” Willum suggested.
“You know I’ve tried,” the man replied with a grimace and his body underwent a slow change. His body shrank proportionately until his upper body was the size of a normal man. Now his coat looked far too big for him and his lower body was similar to the size of a small pony.
“Much better,” he said and entered the room all the way, swinging the door shut with one of his rear hooves. The top of his head still nearly brushed the ceiling, but he didn’t have to bend over. He noticed Tarah’s stare. “Sorry about that. I usually patrol in a larger size in case I need to help out with some of the farm work.” He stuck out his hand and smiled. “Nice to meet you. I’m Samson.”
Tarah realized that she was the only one surprised by his appearance. “I-I’m Tarah Woodblade,” she said and reached for his hand.
The moment her palm touched his, Tarah felt a shock. A flood of memories poured into her mind and she realized that he was the rogue horse Djeri had told her about. Samson had experienced so much; so many things, both wonderful and horrible. The scenes flashed past her mind so quickly she couldn’t understand most of them and yet there was one thing that stood out, one momentary flash of memory that she held onto.
She jerked her hand back with a gasp. Samson looked startled and Tarah didn’t know how much of that he had felt. She licked her lips nervously. “Y-you . . . you know Esmine!”
“What did you just do?” Tolivar asked. He was on his feet again, one foot up on his chair as if he was about to jump over the table. Bettie let out a growl and grasped Tarah’s arm. Her hand was incredibly strong.
Tarah instinctively turned and twisted her body, giving her the leverage to tear free of the half-orc’s grip. She backed away, bringing her staff around in a defensive posture. “I didn’t do nothing to him.”
“You did something,” Tolivar said, his dark eyes murderous.
“You were in my mind,” Samson said, his tone wary.
Djeri had stood as well. “Now everyone calm down.”
“He knows Esmine, Djeri!” Tarah said, keeping an eye on both Tolivar and Bettie for possible attack. “He’s seen her before.”
“You bent my fingernail back!” Bettie shouted, clutching her hand and glaring.
“Stop it!” There was a loud crash and everyone’s eyes jerked to the table, where Miss Becca had slammed a loaded platter down onto the table. Several sweet-smelling pastries rolled off and hit the floor. Tarah hadn’t noticed her leave and come back in. The loud noise startled the baby, who started crying. “This is not a place for fighting! Sorry about that, Nala.”
“He’ll be fine,” Nala said, picking up the infant and holding it against her shoulder. She patted its back and started humming.
“Now,” said Becca. “Everyone return to their seats and eat one of these sweetbuns.”
“Becca, you don’t understand,” said Tolivar. “She was-.”
“Eat, damn it!” She said, thrusting a pastry at him. The legendary warrior took it from her and sat down, taking a bite. “You too, young lady!” she said with a commanding tone, grabbing another pastry from the platter and gesturing to Tarah.
Tarah took another step back. What was she supposed to do now? Tolivar and Samson knew she used magic and everyone else in the room was looking at her. If it weren’t for her responsibility to Esmine, she might have run.
Tarah Woodblade don’t run away from anything, said Grampa Rolf. That said, there is such a thing as a tactical retreat.
“Better do as she says,” said Bettie. The half orc flexed her fingers, wincing as she moved around the table to sit by Lenny.
Djeri sat down as well and gave Tarah a meaningful look, nodding at the empty spot beside him. Tarah reluctantly followed his lead, sitting down and taking the proffered sweetbun from Miss Becca’s hand.
The older woman nodded and passed out pastries to everyone else at the table, even tossing one to Samson. “Good. Now nobody talks until they’ve eaten one. I mean it.”
“But Becca, this is-,” said Willum.
> “I said nobody,” she replied, fixing him with a glare.
The table grew quiet as everyone ate their sweetbuns. Tarah had never tasted anything like it. The bread was flaky and buttery and the sweet berry preserves inside were surrounded by a soft white cheese. The end result was both sweet and savory and caught Tarah so off guard that for a period of time she closed her eyes and forgot all about her anxiety.
The pastries must have had the same effect all around the table because, when Tarah remembered to open her eyes, the tension in the room had ceased. Tolivar’s dark eyes were watching her still, but they were no longer angry, just thoughtful.
“Are these magic?” Tarah asked, eyeing Miss Becca. What was this woman?
“Herbal remedy, dear,” Becca replied. She gestured to the platter and everyone began piling their dirty dishes onto it. “Now that you’ve all settled down, I need to go back into the kitchen and clean some of these dishes. If I hear another row begin to start, I will be back with something far more unpleasant than dessert.” With that, she lifted the platter and backed through the door into the kitchen.
“Was she always this good?” Willum asked in awe. “Do I just not remember it?”
“Nah,” said Benjo, who was busily licking his fingers. “Mom’s got way crazier since Coal died.”
“I should go help her,” Nala said, standing. “Bettie, would you watch Coalvin for me?”
Bettie looked up from her still-smarting finger. “Yeah, sure.” Nala handed her the child and walked into the kitchen. Bettie looked down at the baby, smiled, showing a set of slightly pointed teeth, and said in a syrupy sweet voice, “Hey little guy. My son’s gonna be whupping your butt in the sparring circle for decades. Oh, yes he is.”
“Alright, Tarah,” said Tolivar, looking at her over steepled fingers. “Why don’t you tell us what you just did with your spirit magic? It felt like a little bit of bonding magic to me.”
“Spirit magic?” she said, scoffing. His words triggered a memory, though; something that little nobleman’s kid had said while she was taking him to the Mage School. He’d said something about spirit magic being something new. Then he’d touched her and sensed her fear. Tarah swallowed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Djeri gave her a meaningful look and she could feel him urging her to talk. She widened her eyes at him. What was he suggesting? That she share her secret among a room full of strangers? Something so private that in her whole life she had told only him?
Tolivar didn’t back down. “You can’t hide your magic. Now that I know what to look for, I can see it. It’s like a faint shimmer coating your entire body. You have talent, there’s no mistaking it.”
When someone catches you in a lie, remember these three simple rules. Deny, deny, deny, advised Grampa Rolf. She remembered his training. He had her do it every morning for a year. Keep your face straight, look ‘em right in the eyes, and deny. You can come up with a story if you want, but keep it simple. If there’s no proof, they’ll have to let you walk.
She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table, and shook her head, giving Tolivar a dull look. “Tarah Woodblade don’t need no magic. I didn’t do nothing to your rogue horse. He’s fine. Look at him.”
“I’m not hurt,” Samson said with a shrug.
Tolivar frowned. “Don’t help her case, Samson. And you, Djeri the Looker,” He said, pointing. “You’re connected to her in some way. I can see it between the two of you, almost like a true bond, but it’s not quite complete.”
Everyone’s gaze shifted to the dwarf, including Tarah. What was Tolivar talking about? What bond? Could he somehow see that they had feelings for each other? She knew Tolivar was supposed to have some kind of magic now, but was that something that was possible to see?
Djeri’s face paled under all the scrutiny. Tarah grit her teeth, willing him not to talk. He opened his mouth but Tarah pressed her boot down on the top of his foot and he closed it without saying anything.
“I think it’s about gall-durn time you two spat it out,” said Lenny, his large arms folded in front of him. His bushy red eyebrows had drawn close together in disapproval. “We all heard your yammerin’ bout Samson. Ain’t no use lyin’ to us now.”
“You can’t hide things from Tolivar. Believe me,” Willum agreed.
Tolivar’s eyes shifted back and forth between the two of them and when neither one chose to talk, he sighed. Then his left hand shot out so quickly Tarah didn’t have time to pull her arm out of the way. She felt the thickness of the naming rune on his palm as his fingers wrapped around her wrist.
The world froze still.
Tarah couldn’t move. No one was moving. She was breathing but the air was sluggish as if it were flowing against its will. Was this a dream? She was very aware that the eyes of everyone at the table were fixed on her. Some of them were curious, some of them concerned. What were they thinking of her?
Then Tolivar cocked his head. He stood from his place at the table across from her, never letting go of her wrist. The rune on his palm was hot, almost uncomfortably so.
He moved towards her, walking through the table as if it were insubstantial. No, that wasn’t quite it. It was more as if the table bent out of the way to let him through. Then he was standing beside her. Both of them were standing. She didn’t remember leaving her seat, but they were beside the table now, standing next to Samson’s frozen form. No one else moved. Their eyes were still focused on the spot where she had been sitting.
“There,” he said, his dark eyes boring into her. “Now that we are alone, perhaps you’ll talk.”
Tarah wanted to back away from him, but her body wouldn’t obey. She waited for Grampa Rolf to restart his litany, but perhaps he was frozen too. Could she even talk if she wanted to?
“How did you do that?” she asked. Her voice came out unexpectedly, her mouth moving a fraction of a second later, as if trying to catch up with her words. “What’s happening?”
“I pulled you away from the others for a moment,” Tolivar said, then paused as if rethinking what he had just said. “Mentally, that is. I pulled your thoughts away from the situation. Your body is still where you left it.”
“And where is my mind, then?” she asked, trying to wrap her thoughts around the concept. This time her mouth moved in time with her voice. Perhaps it had just needed to get used to the situation.
“You’re in mine, I suppose,” Tolivar replied. “My mind, that is. I believe I pulled you in here with me. It’s complicated to explain and, to tell you the truth, I’m doing most of this by instinct. That’s the way I use my spirit magic most of the time.”
She glanced back at the table. “So is my body okay? Is it just sitting there drooling or something?”
“No. Or I don’t think so, anyway. We are speaking at the speed of thought right now and that moves a lot faster than the waking world. I suppose if we speak long enough, people will start to wonder what’s going on. So-.” He gave her a brief smile. “Let’s get started, shall we? Tell me what you did to Samson and why you’re here.”
“I just shook his hand is all,” she said honestly. “I didn’t try to do anything. But when I touched him I just started seeing visions, glimpses of his past.” She blinked, surprised that she had shared that bit of information. Was this something he was doing to her or was it just that she couldn’t think of any reason not to tell him?
“So this magic you use is involuntary?” he asked.
“Well, no. Not most of the time, anyway. If I’m tracking and I want to know what an animal was thinking, I touch their track and I know. It’s, uh, not always the information I wanted to know, but I do it purposefully,” she said. Funny, this was only the second time she’d tried to tell someone this information. It was strange to hear the words coming out of her mouth. “What happened with Samson wasn’t normal, though. It’s only happened that way a handful of times maybe. The magic doesn’t usually happen when I touch somebody, just when I touch something
that they touched.”
“I see,” he said, nodding. “So this is a form of bonding magic you’re using. But you see the past? Past thoughts?”
“I see past thoughts, yes,” she said, then frowned. “Do you have to keep holding my hand like that? You’re naming rune burns.”
“I do, actually,” Tolivar replied. “But what you’re perceiving as my hand touching your wrist is actually the part of my mind that’s connected to yours. In reality, though I am grabbing your wrist right now, we are both still sitting at the table. And the rune isn’t burning. Or at least it’s never done that before.”
“Alright,” she said, trying to wrap her mind around his explanation. “So since I told you about the magic, can I go back now?”
“Not quite yet. First I’d like you to tell me why you refused to admit what you had done,” he said.
“I don’t tell folks about my magic,” Tarah said. “First of all, I don’t really understand what it is or why it works. Until recently, I thought the ability came from my staff. I didn’t want anyone to think my success with tracking had to do with anything but pure skill. Then I lost my staff and I could still use the magic and . . . Wait just a blasted minute. Why am I telling you this? Are you making me tell you these things?”
He smiled a bit sheepishly. “Not intentionally. But since you are here in my mind, it’s probably difficult for you to resist my questions. The prophet told me I have a ‘forceful personality’. He thinks it’s why I was named.”
Tarah’s frown deepened. “I feel like that should make me really mad, but I’m having difficulty holding on to my anger.”
“I’m okay with that,” Tolivar said and quickly changed the subject. “Tell me, what did you see in Samson’s memories that made you so animated? Who is this Esmine?”
“She’s the reason we’re here,” said Tarah and her mind drifted to the moment Esmine had revealed herself to her. It all flashed through her mind again, Esmine’s milky white scales, her scarlet tail and mane, and her lizard-like head with the sharp protruding teeth and her solid red eyes. “She’s the rogue horse we’re trying to rescue.”
Protector Of The Grove (Book 2) Page 10
