Binding Spell (Tales of the Latter Kingdoms)

by Pope, Christine

  How I wished it were simply a night of vigorous love-making that had me weary enough to faint.

  I finished my wine in silence, then handed the goblet to Beranne and told her I wished to be alone for a while. Truly, it was more that I had grown weary of not meeting her eyes, of avoiding the questions I knew she wished to ask. Besides, Tresi would keep me company well enough until Kadar returned.

  So my maid took the goblet and left, although not without a reproachful backward glance. The ensuing silence did seem rather overwhelming, but I reached down and patted Tresi on the head again, then settled myself on the divan and tried not to stare overlong at the darkness gathering outside the windows. Surely Kadar should be back by now.

  Perhaps it was the wine, or simply the soul-weariness that had come upon me with the realization of Ulias’ passing, but I actually fell into a light doze, my cheek resting on one arm of the divan. I skirted only the edges of true sleep, but my mind was fogged enough that it took me a second or two to realize the door had opened, and Kadar had entered the room.

  I pushed myself upright and began to smile. But then I realized the odd sound at the edge of my hearing was Tresi growling. Puzzled, I glanced down to where she had been resting near my feet, and saw that she looked toward Kadar, small white wolfish teeth bared as her snout wrinkled.

  What on earth? Tresi had always loved Kadar — I had joked on several occasions that she seemed to be more his dog than mine, since she was always making up to him.

  Blinking, I pushed myself to my feet so I faced him. As I did so, another wash of cold passed over me.

  That face was his, of course, the straight nose and wide, friendly mouth, the high cheekbones and whimsical eyebrows. But something unfamiliar looked back at me through those golden eyes, and it was not Kadar’s inflection as he said, “Good evening, my dear.”

  The cold in my midsection congealed into a single lump of ice. I knew then what Maldis had done with that final burst of power.

  By some foul magic — I knew not how — he had invaded my husband’s body.

  Chapter 18

  I took a step backward, although I knew there was nowhere I could run, nothing I could do to save myself.

  “Shut up that vile little beast,” Maldis said through Kadar’s lips, “before I break her neck.”

  Shaking, I bent down and stroked Tresi along her back, murmuring, “Shh, dear. Everything is fine. Be calm.” Eventually she did subside, although her small body trembled and her ears were laid back against her head. Not taking her eyes off Kadar — Maldis — she slunk along the wall until she reached her basket and crept into it.

  Slowly I stood and faced him, staring at that visage which once was so dear and now already seemed strangely altered, the lips thinner, the eyes cold, without the hidden laughter that usually danced within them. “What have you done to him?”

  At least he did not bother to pretend. “Very insightful of you, Lark. I am surprised you could tell the difference so quickly.”

  “I would think a woman would know her husband,” I retorted, amazed a little at my own boldness. “And since that husband has been consorting with a black magician, it does not take much effort to realize what might have happened to change him so.”

  “Indeed.” He moved toward me, and although I wished more than anything to retreat, to run away, I knew there was no place for me to go. Instead, I stood my ground, tried not to flinch as he came within a hand’s-breath of me. “One would think that you should know him well, save that he is no true husband to you, nor you a true wife to him.” His breath was hot on my cheek as he leaned closer. “A situation I plan to remedy.”

  My stomach curled in disgust as I realized what those words meant, and yet at the same time I felt the smallest sliver of hope. He did not know that Kadar and I had been intimate, which meant, although Maldis had stolen my husband’s body, he did not know anything of what was in his mind.

  Which also meant he still most likely had no idea I possessed powers of my own, that I was anything but some foolish young woman the Mark had decided to make his wife.

  I did decide to disabuse Maldis of one notion. “I fear your information is not entirely correct, however. Kadar and I do have a true marriage, so if you thought to amuse yourself by deflowering me, you are too late.”

  A scowl pulled down the dark brows, and I thought again of how much of a person’s face was determined by the soul that inhabited it, and not the simple physiognomy of nose and mouth and chin. His eyes narrowed, and he said, “No matter. I misdoubt his clumsy efforts did much to please you. I shall teach you differently.”

  “As you attempted to do with the scullery maids?” I inquired in tones of icy scorn, then couldn’t help wincing as he raised a hand.

  The blow never fell, however. Instead, his fingers dropped to my cheek, where they traced a line down to my jaw, and then to my mouth. A shudder worked its way through my frame, and he smiled. “Good. You do right to fear me, Lark. But if you are a good little bird and do as you are told, then you can remain my consort, and watch as I bring this land the greatness it deserves.”

  So that was his plan — to steal the Mark’s body, and then his kingdom, to do…what? I had no idea which powers he still had to command, how much of Ulias’ stolen energy he had used up to transact this unholy possession of my poor husband’s body.

  And I saw how Maldis watched me with greedy lust in his eyes, and wondered how I could avoid his vile appetites. Luckily, my wits had not completely deserted me, and the idea came to me soon enough. A simple subterfuge, and most likely one used by women in far less dire straits than I.

  “Your timing is poor, my lord,” I told him. “For my moon courses have just come upon me this morning, and you know it is ill luck to take a woman in that way.”

  A fearsome frown greeted this revelation, but I noticed he made no more moves to touch me. “An unwelcome delay. But a delay only. Do not think this changes anything.”

  I allowed an expression of worry to cross my features before replying, “I understand that. As you have taken poor Kadar, so you will take me…some five days hence.”

  “And not a moment longer.”

  “Understood, my lord.”

  He stood there, watching me, his narrowed eyes causing a chill to work its way down my spine. How terrible it was to gaze at that face and know that the man I loved was not what stared back at me. I told myself that Kadar still had to be in there, buried beneath Maldis’ dominating will.

  I had to learn how to break that will, to set my husband’s soul free. I would do it, even if it killed me.

  * * *

  A terrible evening followed. Of course we must go down to supper as if nothing had changed, and although his touch on my arm made my very flesh crawl, I had to allow him to take my hand, to lead me into the dining hall in the same way Kadar had done dozens of times before. And although he laughed at the appropriate intervals and said nothing terribly untoward, from time to time I saw Althan shoot a puzzled glance in his master’s direction, as if he had sensed something was amiss, even though he could not put his finger on what it was.

  For myself, I assumed what I hoped was an air of unconcern, smiling at Maldis’ jokes, even offering him some of the choicer morsels from my plate, and yet the entire time my stomach was a mass of knots, my brain churning as I tried to determine what I should do next. Yes, I had stolen myself some breathing room, but in five days — or sooner, if the dark mage discovered my subterfuge — he would claim me as his, and all would be lost.

  When we ascended the stairs to our chambers after that dreadful meal, we did so in silence. It was only after he shut the door that I said, “I shall sleep on the divan.”

  “You will not.”

  My spirit quailed at those words, but I replied firmly, “I am quite restless…during. You would not want me to disturb your sleep.”

  Another one of those narrow-edged frowns, and then he gave me a very thin smile. “Ah, well, if it pleases you. It wi
ll change nothing, in the end.”

  And I pray to God that you are wrong. I only nodded, however, and went to fetch my nightdress from the wardrobe in the bedchamber. It was an awkward business to undress, for unlike Kadar, who at least those first nights had shown me the courtesy of being otherwise occupied while I changed into my night things, Maldis loitered at the doorway to the sitting room, clearly amused by my discomfort as I turned my back and attempted to pull off one chemise at the same time I slipped on the other. I do not know if I was entirely successful at concealing everything during this procedure, but at least since my back was to him, I was spared the ignominy of witnessing his lecherous gaze.

  Finally I was more or less covered, and in silence I retrieved the sheets and blankets I required to sleep once more on the divan. At that point he appeared to give up the game and, after smirking at me one last time, retired to his bed. The door, unfortunately, he left open, no doubt not trusting me enough to leave me entirely to my own devices.

  Not that it really mattered. What I planned to do next would not be apparent to the watching eye, and I had to hope that Maldis was so occupied in maintaining his hold on Kadar’s body that he would not be watching for other forms of magic.

  I settled myself down on the divan and pulled the covers up to my chin. What an odd echo of my first night here, all those weeks ago, and yet I had never feared Kadar the way I feared Maldis. I knew there was quite literally nothing the dark mage would not do in pursuit of his ambitions…or his desires. Thank God he at least shared the same foolish superstition most men seemed to possess, that women experiencing their moon blood were somehow unclean, unlucky. I had never before thought I could use such a thing to my advantage.

  What I meant to attempt next was risky, and I had no confidence in its success. But it seemed that Maldis, while he could steal the power of others, had no intrinsic power of his own, and so could not necessarily sense when I worked magic, or cast my mind out into the void to touch others of my kind. True, Ulias had feared detection when he and I were communicating, but that, I thought, was because Ulias and I had shared a connection, and Maldis even then was draining Ulias’ power and therefore could detect my presence through that stolen power.

  We shared nothing now. And that was what spurred my hope.

  I shut my eyes and breathed deeply, knowing I could not force the relaxed state I required, and yet at the same time resenting every extra second it took to push away the tension within my body, the fear clouding the edges of my mind. All those things would prevent me from casting my consciousness forth so I might seek the only assistance left to me.

  The darkness behind my eyelids began to flicker with light, and once again I saw all those errant sparks spreading out in every direction, those delicate pulsing points that indicated another mage-born soul. There it was again, that gleaming beacon far away, the one that glowed almost as brightly as the lighthouse on Ralistare Point did back in South Eredor.

  I reached out to the light, feeling in its radiance something warm and welcoming, reminding me of home, of warm summer afternoons and a delicious breeze from the sea. Father.

  A long silence, and then, the silent-sounding word sharp with surprise. Lark?

  Yes, Father, it is I.

  But how — how are you doing this?

  It is something I was taught by a very wise wizard. Despite my best attempts at remaining calm, my breath caught, and the thickness of tears unshed choked my throat. But I had no time for that now. Father, I need your help.

  Are you in trouble? Is it that Kadar Arkalis? Thani wrote and said you insisted all was well, that you wanted to stay, but I still could not believe —

  I am in trouble, Father, but it is none of Kadar’s doing. As quickly as I could, I explained the situation with Maldis, and how he had stolen the Mark’s body, intending to rule in his stead. And I asked, Have you ever read anything of such a spell, of how it might be broken? For Ulias told me I was a Protector, but I have no experience of such things, and it is a spell unlike anything else I have ever encountered.

  A pause, heavy with thoughts I knew my father wanted to conceal from me. Then he said, My dear Lark, would it not be better if you simply fled? These people are none of yours, and it seems this doom was brought upon them by the Mark’s own ambition.

  Anger flashed, hot and bright, across the darkness in my mind, and I had to force it down, maintain the concentration I required to maintain this most difficult type of conversation. I cannot do that. This is my home now, and these are my people. I cannot simply abandon them — abandon Kadar — to their fates.

  Ah. It seemed as if my father’s mental voice sharpened. You care for him, then, this Mark of North Eredor?

  More than I ever thought possible.

  Well, then. My father was silent for a second or two. You cannot fault me for wanting to see you safe.

  No, I suppose not, but running away is not something I can or will do. There must be some way to reverse this spell, to send Maldis’ black soul back to his body.

  Ah, that is the trick.

  So you do know something?

  Only bits and pieces, scraps of lore preserved and handed down through the years.

  Lore you never bothered to teach me.

  He gave the mental equivalent of a weary sigh. Lark, I taught you what I could, and what I thought would be helpful. Certainly I had no idea you would ever encounter someone powerful enough to use the sort of dark magic you have described. But I will tell you what I can.

  Ironic that a father’s love and desire to protect his child might have the very opposite effect. But I could not fault him for that — after all, I had no children of my own, and so did not know what I would have done in a similar situation. Please, Father. I do not know how much time I have.

  Again the sensation of him drawing in a breath, and he said, This Maldis has seized control of the Mark’s body, but his own body must be elsewhere, in a state close to a living death, but not dead. There is the subtlest of threads still connecting him to that body. You must find that thread and sever it. The jolt will send his consciousness back whence it came, and the Mark should be freed.

  Will it — will doing so kill Maldis?

  Possibly. Lhars told me once, as he talked of the ways in which mages warred upon one another, that the shock alone was sometimes enough to cause the mind and heart to collapse. But this is not guaranteed.

  So I may have to kill him myself, afterward.

  Lark!

  What, Father? I snapped. I see no point in dancing around the issue. Surely you cannot think that, having come so far, I will not finish the deed if necessary? It would not be murder, to rid the world of one such as Maldis. More like breaking a rat’s neck, I should think.

  The silence that met my speech told me all I needed to know of my father’s thoughts on the matter. Obviously he feared the ordeal had changed some part of me, made me cold and hard. Perhaps. I could not worry about that now. I could only think of how to break the spell, and return my husband to me.

  And if doing so required that I bury a dagger in Maldis’ black heart, well, then, so be it. I did not think the world would judge me too harshly for doing such a thing.

  Thank you, Father, I told him. If you hear from me again, you will know I have succeeded. If not…

  I let the words trail off. Indeed, there was not much more to be said.

  * * *

  After that, I did sleep, if fitfully, waking several times an hour, my eyes flying open as if I expected to see Maldis staring down at me with that hateful, lecherous gaze of his. But the snores drifting from the bedchamber where I had shared one sweet night with my husband told me the dark mage slept the slumber of the just, even if he certainly did not deserve it.

  During one of those times I wondered if I should simply rise from my bed, take up the fireplace poker, and stab Maldis where he slept. But I knew it would not be that easy. He might give the appearance of drowning in oblivion, but I thought if I even dared to a
pproach him as he slept, he would wake quickly enough. Men such as he generally could not be disposed of that easily.

  My mental conversation with my father had wearied me enough that I likewise knew I could attempt nothing until I was more rested. I had tried to reach out with that strange power of mine, the one that told me when spells were being worked and how, and although I did sense something like a dark, gleaming trail moving out from Maldis, I could not detect where it went. Strange stabbing pains burst through my skull and I doubled over, forcing myself not to vomit, knowing that I had exerted myself too much within too short a period of time. My revenge would have to wait until my faculties were completely restored.

  So I slept here and there, and tossed and turned, until the sun pushed its way past a chink in the draperies and woke me up fully. I blinked and put a hand to my throbbing head.

  “You would have slept better in a proper bed, I think,” came Kadar’s voice.

  Only I knew it was not my husband speaking, but the dark mage. I refused to look up at him. “I slept well enough.”

  “Indeed.” He moved around the corner of the divan and gazed down at me, one corner of his mouth lifting in a smirk entirely unlike any expression my husband would have worn. “I will allow you your tired back and cricked neck for now. But you must rise, and begin your day with me.”

  “Which will include…what? The assassination of the Emperor of Sirlende? The conquest of Keshiaar?”

  “All things in their time, Lark. And ours will come soon enough.”

  I had no true reply to this, and so I scowled and pushed the bedcovers away. This time I gathered my courage and slammed the door to the bedchamber so I might change in private. Outside the door I thought I heard him laugh. Apparently my weak attempts at rebellion had amused him. So be it. At least this way I could dress in peace.

  However, I knew open warfare was not a productive course of action. He had to think me defeated and meek, so I might have more opportunity to bring about his destruction. I chose a gown I had not worn before, of shimmering sea-green silk, and took more than my usual care in combing my hair.