Powerful Magic

by Karen Whiddon

  "Have done with your lies, sister. Tell me the whole of it now, so that I will have no other surprises awaiting me beyond every turn in the road."

  Though the light from the full moon seemed bright, it was dark by the time they finished speaking and the fire had burned low. Surprised, he gathered some more wood and built it back up. He had agreed to nothing, knowing deep within himself that there had to be another way. He could never become one such as his sister, wholly of the world of Faerie. There was too much human in him. Nor would he accept being held up as something he was not. He was no savior - merely a warrior with one final task, one last battle, before he might find peace.

  There had to be another way. He promised himself that he would find it.

  Gradually, he realized something was not right. It was too quiet. Glancing around their small campsite, he saw nothing amiss. The war horse had finished grazing and now watched the edge of the woods, his ears cocked forward. With a start, Kenric realized the animal watched for Megan to reappear.

  "Rhiannon," Trying to calm the fear that rose in him, he motioned to his sister, "how is it that Megan has not yet returned?"

  Immediately, she strode towards him, her expression concerned. "I did not realize. We talked for so long, she should be back by now."

  His blood thrumming, Kenric grabbed his sword. "I will find her."

  Lancelot nickered, as if in agreement.

  "I will go with you." Rhiannon told him. Immediately she cloaked herself in her protective magic, becoming a vague outline of shimmering light. He knew she could make herself entirely invisible if she so desired. He knew also that she claimed he had the same power, were he willing to use it. Somehow.

  No. In the world of men, he was a legendary warrior. He would fight as a man. Now and until the battle to come.

  At the edge of the woods he paused, listening. Though the bright moonlight helped, darkness was full among them, making the forest a dangerous place. Wild animals had begun to prowl; with the instincts born through years of danger he sensed their hunger.

  Still, the part of him that was attuned to Megan sensed she had not gone far. If he was careful and quick he could find her.

  A sound broke the silence, then another. The crash of many footsteps, a loud whisper, immediately hushed, then a man's low voice.

  Hand on his sword, Kenric froze. This danger was real and immediate. Whoever it was tried to be silent, and failed. Whoever it was meant to sneak up on them under cover of darkness. Too bad the power of the moon foiled their plans. Still, whoever it was meant business. They had Megan.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Kenric heard her soft cry and fought back the urge to charge blindly into the dark shadows, sword raised. This would be foolhardy, and he had not gotten his reputation as fearsome warrior by letting emotions overrule his head. No, he would approach cautiously and listen. Once he knew what he was up against, then he could save her. Would save her.

  Despite her lies, despite the truth of what she was and where she came from, nothing could alter the fact that she belonged to him, and he to her.

  She was his. He would save her. He had to.

  Tonight he felt ready for anything. Invincible. Though he hated to give credence to it, there must be some truth to Rhiannon's claim that the full moon lent magic its power.

  A soft incandescence moved past him. Rhiannon, going to investigate. Maybe these fools, whoever they were, would see her and think she was a ghost.

  For now, he could only think of saving Megan. Strange as it seemed, he fancied he could smell her scent on the night breeze, light and floral. Beautiful and sweet.

  As his eyes adjusted to the darkness created by the canopy of oaks, he could make out shapes. One of them lit a torch, a small one to be sure, but something no one bent on attacking by stealth would be foolish enough to do. Whoever these men were, they were not professionals.

  The torch helped the moon illuminate the small clearing where they huddled, conferring. Slowly, Kenric moved closer, searching for Megan. He saw the glow that was Rhiannon, shimmering behind a huge, leafy tree.

  "I'm sorry." Megan's voice, sounding both apologetic and frustrated, stopped him in his tracks.

  Kenric froze as she walked into the clearing, unbound and unharmed. From her stance he could tell something had angered her; she stood apart from the other men, arms crossed in front of her chest.

  It took a moment for the significance of this to sink in, then when it did he did not want to believe it. Here was no prisoner, no unwilling captive. Nay, she seemed to know these men. Another betrayal?

  Gritting his teeth against the surge of emotion this thought made him feel - jealousy, or simple rage - he moved silently forward. There would be time to analyze his emotions later.

  Then a large, bulky man moved into the light, halting Kenric in his tracks. Lord Brighton. And there, next to him, the stooped shouldered man who straightened himself, standing remarkable tall. Edmyg, the old mage. Though it might be a trick of the silver moonlight, he looked less elderly now.

  They’d somehow managed to escape their keep.

  "Tell me how," Lord Brighton's pompous tones rang out. "Anyone can manage to get lost so close to their own camp? When you encountered us, long before dusk, you said it was but a short walk away."

  Ah, so this had not been a pre-planned meeting. Kenric did not want to think about how the weight on his chest lightened at this knowledge.

  "It is." Megan insisted. "Or was." Running a hand through her already mussed hair, she kicked one foot at a small rock, sending it scuttling across the ground. "I've always been bad with directions, but I don't know how I managed to take a wrong turn. I wasn't that far from the camp, I swear I wasn't."

  One of the men, a foot soldier from the looks of him, muttered something about enchanted woods. Edmyg quelled this with a glance.

  Something about the ancient mage seemed different. Kenric watched, trying to ascertain what it could be. He stood taller, for one, and his face did not seem nearly so lined, nor his body so slight with the weight of his years.

  Edmyg moved to stand next to Megan, lifting his hand and placing it on her shoulder. Watching this, Kenric tensed, then realized the man meant to comfort her.

  "Mayhap we should wait until sunrise." This came from Lord Brighton, who somehow managed to sound both pompous and weary at the same time.

  "I think that would be best." Megan's voice rang with disappointment. "But I don't want Kenric and Rhiannon to worry. No doubt they are searching for me."

  "Rhiannon," When he said her name, Edmygs's voice no longer sounded ancient nor querulous, "and Kenric will find us. They need us, my dear, though not as badly as they need you. We must help them in preparing for the battle to come."

  "Oh yes," Lord Brighton threw up his hand, "the battle. The one where your Kenric must become some sort of King. And what of your betrothed, this Lord Roger? What will you tell him?" Mockery ran in his voice as he waited for Megan to speak.

  Megan blanched, but said nothing.

  A slight breeze stirred the leaves on the trees, making the chime like silver bells or Rhiannon's laughter.

  Watching, Kenric narrowed his eyes. He had begun to feel like everyone in the world conspired to make him take on the unwanted mantle of power. Yet his Megan, who perhaps had the most to gain were he to do so, did not seem overly thrilled with the prospect.

  His Megan. There it was again.

  About to move forward and announce his presence, Kenric stopped as Megan moved closer to Edmyg. Shoulder's touching, they both watched Lord Brighton, who seemed by his very actions, to wish he was elsewhere.

  "Why are you here?" Megan asked softly. Beside her, Edmyg put his arm around her, a visible show of support.

  Kenric wanted nothing more than to knock it away. With an effort, he forced himself to remember that Edmyg was an old man, even if the moonlit night was kind to him.

  "What do you mean?" Lord Brighton still mocked her. If he kept it up, Kenric wou
ld step forward and challenge the fool with his sword.

  "If you don't like Kenric, if you don't believe in him, if you truly don't want to help him prepare for the battle that is to come, why are you here?"

  Instead of answering seriously, as the question had been meant, Lord Brighton threw back his head and laughed. His laugh seemed to echo in the sudden stillness of the night.

  "Why I thought you knew, dear." Still chuckling, he appeared not to notice how Megan shrank away from his

  outstretched hand. "I want only one thing. You. I came for you."

  Rhiannon chose that moment to appear, shimmering into existence right in front of Lord Brighton.

  With a soft cry, Megan turned to her. "Rhiannon! Thank God. Where's Kenric?"

  His sister glanced at him, then away, her gaze focused on something else, someone else. "He is here, somewhere."

  Kenric noticed his half-sister had eyes only for Edmyg. He vaguely remembered someone mentioning they knew each other.

  Megan turned in a circle, searching for him in the shadows outside of their little, well-lit circle.

  Kenric tried to hang on to his anger, tried to remember that she had lied to him about the land, but when her amber eyes somehow spotted him in the enveloping darkness he forgot everything but the need to touch her, hold her, to assure himself that she was unharmed.

  With a muffled sound of joy, she ran to him. And he, God help him, opened his arms and gathered her close. With her trembling body in his arms, soft breasts against his chest, he knew a stirring of such strong emotion that he trembled with it.

  His.

  Breathing in the feminine, floral scent of her, he bestowed kisses along the top of her dark hair, along her

  cheekbone, her throat, until finally she turned her head and touched her lips to his in an open-mouthed kiss. And then he was lost.

  #

  Megan wondered for the twentieth time how Edmyg, Lord Brighton and his retainers had escaped the spell that had kept them locked in Lord Brighton's keep. And she wondered how they had come to find nearly the spot where she, Kenric, and Rhiannon camped.

  But then magic, or so she had learned, could do both wonderful and terrible things.

  After she had somehow wandered too far into the forest, stumbled around for what had to be an hour or more, she'd known absolute terror. How could she have been so stupid to have gotten lost, barely yards from the small fire Kenric had built?

  She put it down to her emotional state; she'd been so worried that Kenric wouldn't want her anymore that she hadn't been paying attention to where she walked.

  Finding the small group had at first seemed like a blessing. She was both surprised and delighted to learn that they'd somehow mastered the spell and had been able to leave the keep. Then, once Lord Brighton made apparent his intention to possess her, she'd wished for Kenric with every fiber of her heart. It was almost a physical ache, this need for him.

  When he'd appeared. she'd felt such a rush of joy, or need, that she'd run to him without thinking.

  If at first joy had consumed her, passion followed. When they'd kissed, she thought she could drown in him, get lost in the taste and the touch and the glorious feel of him. It wasn't until someone - Lord Brighton most likely - had cleared his throat that she realized they had a audience.

  If she'd harbored any uncertainty in her heart, it vanished in that instant. Kenric was her soul mate and would not leave her. She could no more live without him than live without the very air she breathed.

  Wrenching her mouth from his, Megan gulped in air and tried to find the strength of will to pull away from him. But Kenric merely tightened his arms around her, holding her so close that she knew he had worried about her and missed her too.

  "How did--"

  "What happened to--"

  They stopped and laughed. She knew she sounded breathless, knew too she revealed tenderness and joy in her voice. As did he, in his own way.

  Lord Brighton stepped forward, his florid face set in a grimace. "I would bargain with you for the woman." He told Kenric.

  Kenric's hand went to his sword. "Megan is mine. Have care with what you say."

  The older man's expression changed, from antagonism to anguish. "But she is how I escaped my keep. I have discovered love, just as she said. I... I love her."

  Despite himself, Kenric pitied the man. Megan was easy to love. Still, he could not have Lord Brighton thinking he could have her.

  "You will find another." Kenric said arrogantly. "Megan belongs with me."

  The breeze that had lightly caressed their skin picked up, startling the leaves and stirring a cloud of dust in the small clearing. The small fire sputtered, nearly dying.

  "Hold." Rhiannon's voice rang out, bolstered by moonlight and wind.

  As one they turned, facing her. With Kenric holding her so close, Megan knew he shared her unspoken desire to never be separated again.

  "He comes."

  Was that fear in Rhiannon's silvery voice? The wind seemed suddenly wintry, the bite of it making Megan shiver.

  Next to Rhiannon, Edmyg inclined his head in agreement. Megan glanced at him, then back. Was it her imagination, or had his grey hair gotten darker, more black than silver?

  Beside her, Kenric stiffened. "Now?"

  "Yes. He has overcome my spell of cloaking." It seemed the Faerie Queen stood in the center of a whirling funnel, the likes of which Megan had only seen in dusty West Texas in the middle of a dust storm.

  "I need Lancelot." Kenric moved away from her, leaving Megan feeling cold and alone. Then she realized what he had said. He'd called the war horse by the name she'd given him, without thought.

  "Now is not the time--" Rhiannon began, shouting now to be heard over the force of the wind.

  “I will not leave my horse.” Kenric seemed frantic. Knowing him as she did, Megan knew he would never agree to abandon Lancelot.

  "I'll go with you." She yelled, moving to his side.

  "No time." Rhiannon began to spin, her hair lifting madly about her head. "Myrddin will find you and destroy you. You are not ready."

  "My horse--"

  "I will bring him with us."

  "I will help you." Moving swiftly for one so ancient, Edmyg crossed the clearing to stand at her side. He grabbed Rhiannon's hand, stilling her.

  "We must go." The last word was a shriek, as clouds as black as the surrounding sky covered the moon. The silvery light that had made their clearing such a magical place, winked out. So did the feeble torch and fire.

  Instantly it was dark. Not a comforting kind of darkness, but an enveloping, smothering, heavy blanket that reeked of evil.

  Rhiannon and Edmyg joined hands, chanting incomprehensible words into the face of the storm.

  It got darker. Colder. Ice froze their very breath.

  The sense of doom lay so heavy upon them that Megan staggered, clutching on to Kenric's arm for support.

  Then everything shifted and the darkness vanished. And she knew no more.

  #

  The instant his sister had begun chanting, Kenric had wanted to stop her. He knew what she was doing, though he still had not agreed to it. He did not want to go to Rune, not yet. Only concern for Megan's safety had kept him standing within the circle of power Rhiannon had created.

  Clasping Megan close to him, he closed his eyes, readying himself for the swoop of stomach and tingling of bones that crossing over always brought.

  When he opened them again, they were in Rune. And Megan, his lovely Megan, had fainted in his arms.

  "Is she all right?" Lord Brighton asked, concern

  rendering his normally ruddy complexion a sickly white. He made a move towards her, as if he meant to take Megan from Kenric's arms.

  Kenric stopped him with a simple look.

  "She will be fine." Rhiannon waved her hand again, a fine sifting of shimmers caressing Megan's face. At once, Megan opened her eyes, confusion darkening the amber color to nearly a chocolate brown.

/>   They reminded Kenric of how she looked while lost in the throes of passion. Unfortunately, his body responded

  instantly. He shifted her in his arms to hide this from the

  others.

  Megan's eyes went wide, telling him she felt his arousal. He found himself smiling tenderly into her upturned face, wishing they were alone so he could kiss her.

  "There will be time enough for that later." Rhiannon said, her voice a sharp sword. "For now, we are hidden once again. Safe from Myrddin's evil workings. Our power is still strong enough that we can keep him from Rune."

  Lord Brighton tugged at his collar, shifting his feet and frowning. "Edmyg has told me of this Myrddin. What does he want from you?"

  "He plans to rule the world," It was the voice of a Queen Rhiannon used now, "so that he might destroy everything beautiful in it. We have ancient legends, prophecies that speak of this. Even the humans have knowledge of this."

  "Evil." Lord Brighton repeated glumly, "I don't like the sound of that. And my men? Where are they?"

  "They are no longer needed."

  He opened his mouth, then closed it, looking for all the world like a fish out of water. "No longer needed." He muttered, then lapsed into silence. His normal color had

  returned and he appeared to be perspiring profusely, though the air of Rune was pleasantly mild.

  Another man, human from the looks of things, stepped out from behind Lord Brighton. Tall and ruggedly handsome, he nearly resembled a man of faerie, so beautiful were his features. Crossing to Rhiannon, he knelt gracefully at her feet, head bowed.

  What was this? Kenric straightened, not liking the way Megan's fascinated gaze seemed locked upon this interloper.

  Even Rhiannon wore a look of confusion. Until the man lifted his face and gazed up at her.

  "Edmyg?" She gasped, one hand to her heart. "How is it possible?"

  His answering smile was as bright as any man of Rune. "Another spell, Rhiannon. Don't you remember, years ago when I was taken from you?"

  Speechless, she nodded.

  "You thought I had aged so greatly?"