Powerful Magic

by Karen Whiddon

  Opening her eyes, she realized she now lay in a hospital bed, hooked to numerous machines, an IV in her arm. The air reeked of antiseptic, the smell of hospital and illness.

  A riot of flowers of every color lined the window sill and shelf. The elaborate arrangements seemed lacking somehow; none of them looked as vibrant as the flowers had in Rune.

  Rune. Kenric. Had it been a dream? She glanced at her finger. The silver ring of crystalline beads seemed to shimmer and glow. Her betrothal ring, Kenric's ring. She sighed with relief. Fine. Now all she had to do was wait. Rhiannon had brought her to him once. Surely she could do so again.

  Or could she? Heart heavy, she remembered when she’d asked her, Rhiannon had said she couldn't send her home. What if Megan's traveling through time had been a fluke, a one time spell that's effectiveness had faded?

  Panic coursed through her. She had to get out of this

  bed. Now. Surely there was something she could do to get back to Kenric, some way she could help ignite the magic that would send her there.

  At her sudden movement, one of the monitors hooked to her began beeping a frantic warning. A nurse came running into the room, skidding to a stop when she saw Megan sitting up.

  "Oh my." The plump, fortyish woman put a hand to her

  ample chest. "Let me call the doctor."

  "I don't want a doctor." Megan knew she sounded peevish, but didn't care. "I want my clothes. I need to go home." She needed to go home all right - home to Rune and to Kenric.

  The monitor quieted of its own accord. After checking it, and several others, the nurse nodded. "You wait right there. I need to call the doctor. He's left explicit instructions that he was to be notified if there was any change."

  She shook a finger at Megan, clucking. "You're a very lucky young lady. Struck by lightning! It's not everyday that someone comes out of a coma, you know."

  A coma. Megan's heart began to pound double time. Only by touching the crystal beaded ring, turning it on her finger, was she able to keep calm.

  "How long?" Licking lips gone suddenly dry, Megan cleared her throat. "How long was I in a coma?"

  The nurse looked pleased by the question, as though by asking it she’d expelled her doubts that Megan was entirely in full possession of her facilities.

  "Nearly a week."

  Megan frowned. A week. She'd been back in the past much longer than that, close to two months, maybe even longer because of the time she'd spent in the land of Faerie. The seasons had even changed. And Kenric had told her time passed differently in Rune.

  She swallowed. "What happened?"

  The nurse smiled then, a kindly smile that made Megan want, irrationally, to cry. "Don't you remember? You were hit by lightening. You were barely alive when they brought you in. Now lay quietly while I go page the doctor and your fiancé. "

  Fiancé? Roger. Dear God, she'd forgotten about Roger. At the beginning of all this, she'd been about to hand him back his ring, the huge diamond that she'd given to Kenric as a form of payment. What had Kenric done with it? She'd never seen it again after she'd given it to him as a sort of token proof. She knew Roger would insist she return it to him. Which she would, as soon as she could.

  After all, now she wore another's ring. Lifting her hand, she admired its delicate beauty. The tiny crystals reflected the artificial light, shimmering with such a magical glow that it made her heart ache. The ring of her soul mate, her soul half. Kenric, the only man she would ever love, in any place or time.

  Urgency seized her. She had to do something, get away from this place. She didn't want to see Roger, nor a doctor. She only wanted Kenric and Rhiannon and Edmyg. She wanted Lancelot, the ability to pet his shaggy neck. She wanted to go... home.

  Home. Tears ran down her cheeks. With a muffled cry, she swung her legs over the side of the hospital bed. Dizziness hit her the instant she did, and she had to hold on to the edge of the rail until her head cleared.

  Only it didn't. Every time she moved, the room moved with her. With a groan, she gave up. She lay back down, fighting the nausea that came with the vertigo. For now she had no choice but to rest, gather her strength, and pray.

  Roger arrived within thirty minutes of her awakening. In his arms he carried a hugely elaborate bouquet of blood-red roses. Shoving aside the other arrangements, he placed his front and center in the most conspicuous place on the window sill. Once he’d finished setting this up to his satisfaction, he dusted his hands off and turned to face her.

  Megan considered pretending sleep. But no, she needed to finish this, so she could go to Kenric with a clear conscience.

  Once she had found Roger terrifying. Now, after all she'd been through since being hit by the lightening, she felt nothing. Not even fear.

  And it helped that she was in a public place, where he couldn’t touch her.

  She attempted a weak smile. Staring, Roger did not smile back. Something about his pinched expression and narrowed eyes... She stifled a gasp. He looked like Myrddin, though he wore a thousand dollar suit instead of Myrddin's mage's robes.

  And, like Myrddin had been before the final battle, Roger looked furious. Why, she had no idea.

  "Hello." She said softly, swallowing back her fear.

  Casually, Roger glanced around to make sure no one could see. Capturing her hand, he squeezed so hard it brought tears to her eyes.

  "I've been worried about you," he told her, though the hard glint of his gaze belied his words. "At one point they thought you might die."

  She nodded, unsure how to answer. More than anything she wanted to tug her hand free but knew if she did he would find some other inconspicuous way to hurt her. Roger, she had come to learn, delighted in tormenting creatures weaker than he.

  "Well, I didn't." Her attempt at pulling off a cheery

  response fell flat.

  Increasing the pressure, Roger leaned closer. "I checked with my attorney. He said you never came in to have him redo your will."

  Closing her eyes, she tried to breathe slowly. She knew better than to exhibit fear or rebellion. Her only hope of getting through this without him hurting her worse was to somehow remain calm and focused.

  "I didn't have time." It was a lie, but she didn't want

  to tell him she had no intention of changing her will. Not

  now, not ever. Since she had no living family, her original will left everything to charity, most particularly to shelters for abused and battered women. She meant to keep it that way.

  "You will make time." Increasing the pressure on her hand, he watched with satisfaction gleaming in his eyes as she bit her lip to keep from crying out.

  “Let go of me."

  Surprise flickered across his face. Then he laughed, a low, chilling sound that made her want to flinch.

  "Certainly." With one final hard squeeze, he released her. Moving back from the bed, he glanced at his watch and smirked. "After they called to tell me you were awake, I asked my attorney to come by here and meet with you. He should be here within the hour."

  She pushed herself up, using her elbows, ignoring her throbbing hand. After all, he couldn't seriously harm her in here. There were too many machines monitoring her condition, too many nurses at the station outside her room.

  "I’ll send him away,” she declared. “You've wasted your time. I won't be changing my will."

  His gaze narrowed. If he'd had a sword in his hand,

  Megan had no doubt that he'd lop off her head with it.

  Then his handsome face smoothed. "Obviously they have you on some strong medication. I'd better ask the nurses to discontinue it before your attorney arrives."

  "Don't bother." She thought of facing down Myrddin and felt a surge of boldness. She could do this. She would do this. "I won't be marrying you either, Roger. I need to break off our engagement."

  She thought she saw a surge of panic flicker across his expression. Then it was gone, replaced with the arrogant determination that he used when engineering a hostile t
akeover.

  "Oh yes you will. You will marry me." His tone told her he believed she would have no choice. Again he glanced around, then leaned close. "You belong to me." He hissed, his cold gaze traveling over her, pausing when he reached her clasped hands.

  Cursing, he grabbed her hand again, staring at her ring finger with an expression of furious disbelief.

  "What the hell is this?" He yanked at Kenric's ring,

  attempting to take it off. "What have you done with the

  diamond I gave you?"

  She curled her hand into a fist and yanked it away from him. The truth, she told herself. She would tell Roger the truth.

  "I've met someone else." Swallowing, she heard the ring of pride in the simple phrase. "I'm going to marry him instead."

  Mouth twisted, he raised his hand then, a reaction that came naturally to him. Her reaction was equally instinctive, she flinched, anticipating the blow.

  But they were in a hospital, with monitors and nurses and people who would see. Roger was a public person, well known in the upper echelon of Dallas' movers and shakers. Though she had never dared to defy him so boldly before, he’d have to wait to seek his retribution.

  Forcing a smile, he lowered his hand, the glare he shot her telling her that he would extract his pound of flesh later, when they were alone.

  Another reason, she thought with a shiver, that she'd make certain she was never alone with him again.

  "You don't sound like yourself." Though his eyes were hard, he spoke in a soothing tone that she knew he meant to sound conciliatory. Instead, without realizing it, he sounded patronizing. "I know you don't really mean that."

  "But I do." She closed her eyes, no longer afraid of him, no longer worried about hurting him either. She'd seen everything she needed in the expression on his face when she'd told him the news. Roger didn't love her, no. He loved her money, the money he could use to boost his company's assets. He loved controlling her, cowing her with fear and threats of retribution. She suspected he also loved inflicting pain, that he was one of those men who secretly enjoyed hurting others,who'd pulled the wings off flies as a child and tormented small, helpless animals.

  "Well," he finally said, standing. "I'd better be going. I think they must have you on some heavy duty drugs. You don't sound like the Megan I know. Maybe I'll check in with you later, see if you've regained your senses yet."

  Patting her shoulder, he turned to leave. His carefully jovial tone rang false to her ears. From past experience she knew he hadn't given up. To the contrary, now he would go and plan a strategy, one that he carefully designed to make certain he was a winner. Like usual. So many things had come easily to him. No doubt he expected to obtain her capitulation with relative ease as well.

  "Don't bother." She told him, enjoying the surprise she saw in his expression. She didn't sound like the Megan he knew because she wasn't. Before she'd gone to Rune, she'd been a frightened, terrified girl, taking months to summon up the courage to leave an abusive relationship. Now she'd become a woman, bold and confident in Kenric's love. Roger would find she wasn't so easy to intimidate now.

  Without another word, he spun on his heel and left.

  She sighed, relief flooding her. That was one hurdle she'd made it over. Though she knew he would be back, in good conscience she had told him the truth and broken things off.

  As weariness overcame her, she fought sleep, knowing she had to concentrate on matters of real importance, like figuringhow to get out of here and back to Kenric.

  #

  "This has happened once before." Pacing, feeling like a caged lion in the too small confines of Rhiannon's council chamber, Kenric continued talking. His words were more to reassure himself than the others. He had to find Megan. The alternative was unthinkable.

  "The last time I met Myrddin, on the road. Before I knew how to control my power. Before--" His voice cracked, broke.

  Taking a deep breath, Kenric straightened his shoulders and continued. "Before I believed Megan came from the future."

  "That was when you found her in Lord Brighton's keep?" Edmyg, calm and serious, sat at Rhiannon's right hand. Kenric knew a flash of irrational fury. Of course Edmyg could sound composed. He had not lost his soulhalf.

  Immediately ashamed, he bit back the angry retort he'd been about to make. Instead, he nodded. "Yes." He held up a hand, anticipating the next question. After all, they'd been over this ground once before, to no avail.

  "You claim you don't know how you found her." This from Arwydd, the sage teacher. Of all the beings present in this room, man or faerie, Kenric believed Arwydd would be the greatest help.

  "No." Stopping long enough to spread his hands, Kenric fought back panic. Panic. Him, one of the fiercest warriors in England or Wales. He resumed his pacing, knowing it was probably driving the others crazy, but not caring. Right now, it was the only thing keeping him sane.

  "Do you think Lord Brighton has her?" Edmyg continued to use his soothing voice in much the same manner as one trying to tame a savage beast. "After all, he did offer for her."

  "And was turned down." Kenric snarled. "Lord Brighton would not dare. He knows the repercussions should he attempt such a foolish thing."

  "Then where is she?" Arwydd scratched his head.

  Rhiannon stood, bringing them all to silence with one regal wave of her hand. Kenric wondered if he was the only one who realized that this would be the first time she'd spoken since they had entered the room.

  She looked only at Kenric as she spoke. "I believe she has been returned to her own time."

  His heart sank. He had not wanted to think on it, not wanted to even consider the possibility that... Ah, but there it was. He did not sense her here, no trace of her essence lingered to show him where to follow.

  She was not here. Not in this place, not in this

  time, not within his reach.

  Stifling a growl of frustration, he barely kept from showing his rage. If she had gone forward in time, then he would follow. Immediately.

  He didn't realize he had spoken out loud until Arwydd shrugged, his expression carefully blank.

  It could be done. There had to be a way. And he, Kenric of Blackstone, would find it.

  Relaxing, he forced himself to look upon his options dispassionately. It was all a matter of learning how. This he could do. After all, he'd learned how to fight and vanquish Myrddin.

  The others, taking his silence as permission to go, began filing out the door. As the council chamber emptied, he focused his thoughts inward. Methodically, he searched through the magical knowledge he had learned for something, anything, that might help him find the answer he sought.

  But he came up empty. Inside he felt empty too; hollow and yearning for Megan.

  When all had left except Arwydd, Rhiannon placed a small, elaborately carved wooden box on the table.

  "What is this?"

  She motioned at him to touch it. He did, feeling ancient magic in the smooth curves and polished wood.

  "This comes from the Hall of Legend."

  Not comprehending, he continued to run his fingers over the wood, wondering if the warmth emanating from it was real or imagined.

  Arwydd stepped forward, his expression reverent. "It is older than anything in this palace. Since time began it has been bequeathed from Faerie Queen to Faerie Queen."

  Kenric frowned. "But Faeries live... forever."

  Sadly Rhiannon shook her head. "It may seem like that, to a human with their short life span. But you my brother, know better than that. Our mother's passing is why I have had to assume the heavy mantle of Queen all these years."

  After a moment of respectful silence, Arwydd cleared his throat. "The box." he reminded.

  Once again Kenric smoothed the sleek wood. "How does it open?"

  Rhiannon shook her head. "I do not know. Some time ago, a dream led me to the Hall of Legend. The entrance was not barred to me like it usually is. I found the box inside. It was already open, as if it wai
ted for me. When I touched it, I knew the time had come to use what I found inside."

  Curious, Kenric searched for a latch or some hidden mechanism that would release the lid. By accident or by design, he must have found it, for it popped open.

  It was empty, save for a scroll of yellowed parchment bound by a faded ribbon that might long ago have been blue and a scrap of even older parchment, curled with age.

  Kenric read the scrap first. "The scroll herein contains a powerful spell. It may be used only once, in the hour of greatest need. Use only when half-human, half-faerie must become a whole, and the power of love is needed to vanquish darkness."

  "Yes." Rhiannon nodded, her voice a shaky whisper. "And so I used it to bring Megan to us."

  The words she did not say echoed in the chamber.

  It may be used only once.

  Megan. Even her name had his throat aching with longing. "How did you know?"

  Rhiannon and Arwydd glanced at each other, both of them appearing uncomfortable.

  "A vision." Rhiannon said finally, seemingly engrossed in the study of her fingernails. "The same vision I always have when it is time to link soul mates, only this one spoke of the fulfillment of the legend, of love and of war."

  Though more questions hovered on the edge of his tongue, Kenric pushed them away. Impatient, he untied the faded ribbon with clumsy fingers. A sense of foreboding stuck him, the same sense that apparently gripped both Rhiannon and Arwydd.

  He hesitated before unrolling the scroll. "This is it, then." No question this, but a statement that needed only his sister's confirmation.

  With reluctance, Rhiannon gave it. Odd, but she seemed almost afraid for him to know the spell, as if now that the battle had been won it would not be safe to use it. Hah - how could she not know that he would brave the fires of hell itself if it would bring Megan back to him.

  Fumbling, he opened the scroll. When he’d finished, he stared in shock.

  The scroll was blank.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  "It's blank." Shock gripped Kenric, shock and the absurd sense that someone played a horribly misplaced jest. Fighting back panic, he turned the paper over, searching for the magical words that would bring Megan back to him. Nothing. "Blank."