The Marriage Spell

by Mary Jo Putney

  “My father is a well-known scholar of magical history and practice.” In fact, Sir Andrew Barton was an important figure in wizard circles, though she wasn’t surprised that the duke was unaware of her father’s name. Magicians were everywhere, at all levels of society, yet ignorance of magical life was rampant, especially among the nobility. That made it easier for them to pretend wizards didn’t exist. She had to give Ashby and Ransom credit for civility, and the flexibility to ask for her help.

  She stopped by one of the floor-to-ceiling bookcases and scanned the titles. Ah, there. She pulled two volumes from the shelf. “Both of these books discuss healing circles in some detail. I hope that will help you tonight. Now, if you excuse me, I must summon the others.”

  After he accepted the books with thanks, she sat down at her writing desk and began to write short notes requesting that her friends join her for a healing circle. Ashby said, “Do you have enough servants to carry the messages? If not, I could summon some of my own people to speed the process.”

  “Thank you, but that’s not necessary.” She rolled the small note tightly and tucked it into a lightweight tube made from a goose quill.

  “The messages will be carried by pigeons more quickly than a man can ride.”

  His brows arched. “Is this a form of magic?”

  “Not at all. Pigeons have an instinct for returning home. Your friend Mr. Ransom might know about messenger pigeons, since I believe the army uses them. A number of wizards in this area keep pigeons raised at each other’s homes so we can send messages quickly when it’s required.”

  “I suppose that sometimes when magic is required, the need is urgent, as now.”

  “This is one kind of emergency, but there are others,” she said dryly.

  “Even in this modern day, there are villages in England that might burn people like me given any kind of excuse.”

  He became very still. “I hadn’t really thought about that, but I see that it’s a burden you must carry every day.”

  “We all live with death only a heartbeat away. Perhaps wizards are a little more aware of that,” she observed. When she left for the dovecote, Ashby was deeply engrossed in one of the books. She wondered if his study was entirely from his desire to help Lord Frayne, or whether there was a part of him that longed for his own suppressed magic. In her experience, those who possessed a gift yearned to use it. Of course she was no aristocrat. Perhaps a dukedom was power enough.

  After giving the message notes to the pigeon keeper, she returned to the house and gave orders for all the spare bedrooms to be made up. By the time the healing circle was finished, her fellow wizards would be too tired to go home.

  Domestic busyness helped her keep her worries under control.

  By late afternoon, the last of Abby’s gifted friends had arrived. It was time to begin the healing circle. She went to the breakfast room, where the local wizards had been taking refreshments and chatting with each other. Though the work ahead of them was serious, that didn’t mean they couldn’t enjoy this unexpected gathering. “Everyone is here now. Are you all ready? If so, it’s time.”

  With scraping chairs and hastily swallowed drinks, the eight wizards rose and followed her to the dining room, where the patient waited. The group included both sexes, from fifteen-year-old Ella to Mr. Hambly, who was seventy-nine. Though he hadn’t her father’s power and skills, Mr. Hambly’s decades of experience would be invaluable to Abby during the coming ritual.

  The group also included a vicar, a midwife, and Young Will, the son of a farm laborer. When his gift had been discovered, Abby’s father had begun tutoring him in magic and paid his fees to the local grammar school so that Will would have more opportunities than was usual for a laborer. Despite the diverse backgrounds, they were a community drawn together by their gifts. This was not the first time they had worked together, nor would it be the last.

  Abby had kept the wizards away from the aristocrats, since their moods were so different. Expression grim, Ransom had refused to leave Lord Frayne’s side. Ashby had spent most of the afternoon there also, sharing with Ransom what he had learned about healing circles.

  Between receiving her friends and checking on Frayne’s condition, Abby had also studied the notes she’d taken during lessons with her father. She knew the theory. She just hadn’t thought that she would undertake a healing of this magnitude without Sir Andrew’s guidance and support.

  She was the leader of this circle, which meant she must project calm and confidence. She wiped damp palms on her skirts before she entered the dining room. Ransom and Ashby rose, looking bleak but resolute. To the wizards, she said, “Lord Frayne’s friends will be participating in the circle. Though untrained, they are both gifted. Judith, will you stand at my right?”

  Judith Wayne, the midwife, took her place by Abby’s right hand. Using intuition, Abby assigned each of the participants a place in the circle around the table that supported Frayne’s motionless body. Placement would help in creating a harmonious energy flow. She placed Ransom directly opposite her, next to steady old Mr. Hambly, and put Ashby at her left hand.

  When everyone was in position, she said, “I believe that even our novices know the procedure, but I’ll go over it again just in case. I will place my hands on Lord Frayne’s head to channel the healing energy. All in the circle will join hands, with Judith and Ashby placing their free hands on my shoulders. When the circle is complete and sealed, the healing will begin. Please, please, do not break the circle under any circumstance, since that will be painful for all who participate and injurious to Lord Frayne. Does anyone have any questions?”

  Ashby asked, “Do you have an idea how long this will take?”

  She shook her head. “It’s hard to say. Perhaps an hour. It’s difficult to maintain intense energy for longer than that. The longer the ritual, the greater the risk that the circle will be broken from fatigue or some other reason.”

  She glanced around the circle. “Ella, did you have a question?”

  The young girl asked softly, “He’s bad hurt, Miss Abby. Do you think we have a chance of saving him?”

  “If I didn’t believe that, we wouldn’t be here,” Abby said honestly.

  “But success is not guaranteed. Reverend Wilson, will you offer a prayer that divine will be done?”

  The vicar nodded and recited a prayer in a rich, sonorous voice. There were still people who believed that magic came from the devil, even though a substantial percentage of the clergy were gifted. Abby thought that it never hurt to invoke divine aid and to remind others that gifts of the spirit came from God.

  When the vicar finished, Abby said, “Let us join hands, seal the circle, and begin.”

  Chapter IV

  Abby erected her most powerful shields before Judith and Ashby rested their hands on her shoulders. Even so, the surging force of so many energies was disorienting. After she adjusted to the influx of power, she lowered her shields a little so she could separate out the energies of each person in the circle.

  They were like musical notes, each unique, together creating a powerful chord. Ella was light and pure, Judith warm and compassionate, the Reverend Wilson deep and thoughtful, and so on down the line. There was a rawness about Ashby and Ransom, but she could feel their power and sincerity. Their magical abilities might just make the difference in saving their friend.

  Once she had the flowing energies firmly in hand, she closed her eyes and gradually reduced her shields to nothing. Never had she focused so much power, and it was easy to see how the process could go dangerously awry. But she took every precaution, and even when her shields were entirely down, she felt that she was in control of the power that channeled through her.

  In control, but also transformed. In a trance state, both detached and aware of the smallest details, she scanned Frayne’s damaged body, able to see much more deeply than she had earlier. She must learn the full extent of his injuries, and she would probably have to make choices about what to at
tempt, since her supply of healing power wasn’t unlimited.

  She frowned as she sank her consciousness into Frayne’s body. His life force was dangerously low, no more than a flickering ember. Worried that he might not survive the stress of the healing circle, she decided to give him some of her own vital force. Life force was different from magic. Though she could channel magical energy from everyone in the circle, when it came to lending life force, she had control over only her own, and that was as it should be.

  Mentally she spun a golden thread of vital force from her solar plexus to his. Her power caused his flickering life to glow more steadily. The thread connecting them also allowed her to feel the pulse of his personality, deeply hidden now, like a bear in hibernation. He had great kindness and compassion. The world needed him as much as his friends did.

  Returning to her scan, she confirmed that his brain had suffered only the concussion she had sensed earlier. That bruising would heal on its own.

  Next she looked for internal bleeding. As she suspected, he had lost a great deal of blood from both his external wounds and his internal injuries, which included a damaged spleen. The power she commanded enabled the ruptures to mend, ending the bleeding.

  She studied the badly splintered bones in his leg and decided it was worth expending some energy to ensure they would heal clean and straight. She visualized phantom bones that were solid and healthy and would act as a template for the real bones as they healed. If the broken leg had been his only injury, she would have fused the bones outright, but she couldn’t afford the huge amounts of energy for that when his other injuries were so much more life-threatening.

  Noting that inflammation was flaring up at several injury sites, she flooded his body with a spell designed to eliminate all feverishness. Infected wounds were often fatal, and he didn’t have the strength to fight the inflammation.

  Aware that she had already expended a substantial amount of the available power, she focused on the most critical injury: Frayne’s broken neck. Not only must she repair the cracked bones, but also the blood vessels and the ruptured nerves that carried messages from mind to muscle. If those couldn’t be fixed, there was no chance for Frayne to live a healthy, active life. Far kinder to withdraw and let him die in peace.

  She moved her hands down to the sides of his throat, feeling the rasp of whiskers against her fingertips. First, the shattered bones…

  After charting the cracks and breaks, she created a phantom template of healthy bones, as she had with his leg. Then she poured energy into the template with the force of a foundry fire.

  She didn’t have enough power. When she realized that, she wanted to weep with frustration. She was so close to being able to fuse the bones, but there simply wasn’t enough magic available to finish the job. Surely she could do something.

  Desperation reminded her that there might be one last resource available: Lord Frayne’s own power. As Ashby had noted, a magical gift could be suppressed, but it was an integral part of one’s nature and could not be destroyed.

  Would Frayne approve of her using his magic when he didn’t approve of magic at all? Well, he wanted to live, and she would rather save his life and incur his wrath than fail when she was so close to success.

  Maintaining her grip on the energies of the circle, she dipped into the well of Frayne’s self. There she found a deep pool of magic, long ignored but still powerful. She summoned his gift and braided it with the others, then returned to his damaged neck.

  Miraculously, when she added his personal power, the bone shards slowly began to fuse into healthy wholeness. She poured magic in recklessly until the last piece was in place and firmly cemented in the whole.

  Relief made her dizzy, so she paused and inhaled deeply. With her heightened awareness she heard not only the breathing of the other members of the circle but even their heartbeats.

  When she was steadier, she girded herself for the final effort. Re-building his spinal column had required raw, concentrated power. In contrast, nerves and blood vessels called for the delicate skill of a master needle worker.

  Painstakingly she traced each connection, knitting damaged fragments together until each structure was whole. At the edge of her awareness, she heard his labored breathing smooth out and become stronger.

  With one last careful stroke, she melded the final nerve into wholeness. Knowing she was near the limits of her strength, she mentally stepped back for a survey of her patient. Was everything essential taken care of? Yes, the broken neck had been repaired, the spleen no longer bled, and the inflammation had been eliminated.

  He was still extremely weak and would have to recover from the broken bones and blood loss at a normal pace. She frowned, then decided to leave the life force connection between them until his vitality was greater.

  Swaying, she opened her eyes. Her companions appeared as drained as she, but the circle had held. With a tired smile, she said, “The healing is done, and with God’s help, I believe we have saved him.”

  Eyes wide, Ella whispered, “That was incredible.”

  Mr. Hambly sighed and rolled his shoulders. “I’ve never taken part in such a healing circle as this. You did well, lass.”

  “We all did,” she murmured.

  On her left, Ashby made a sound perilously close to a sob. His dark skin had acquired a gray tinge, but he radiated relief. Ransom’s eyes were closed, and she guessed he was saying a prayer of thanksgiving. Or perhaps he was invoking divine protection since he’d participated in the evil of magic.

  Mustering the last of her energy, she said, “This circle is complete, and may God bless you all until we come together again.” She released the energies and braced her hands on the edge of the table, her hands and muscles cramping painfully.

  On her right, Judith said, “Are you all right, Abby?”

  “I’m fine,” she reassured her friend.

  She didn’t even realize she was collapsing until the floor rose up and whacked her.

  He was floating in a boat on a still sea, drifting ever closer to the sunset. His anger and fear and desperate passion for life had faded into weary resignation.

  Then the sun that had been sinking before him began to rise, burgeoning with power. Its rays changed from orange to pure gold as light poured over him. Light, life…

  Jack surfaced into consciousness, feeling like a creature that had lived too long underground. Was he dead and reborn into heaven? Not likely, since he felt pain in every limb of his body. Of course he’d never thought heaven his likely destination.

  Pain? He was feeling his body again? Startled, he tried to wiggle his fingers. They moved! So did his arms. He felt stabbing pains in his side, probably cracked ribs, but he could move!

  He tried to stretch his legs and immediately regretted it when agony seared through his right leg. But his legs moved and his toes wiggled!

  As shock gave way to joy, he opened his eyes and saw a molded medallion in the ceiling above him. This didn’t look like heaven or hell, but a perfectly normal bedroom. Unthinking, he turned his head. Though his neck ached fiercely, there was no horrible crunch of broken bones.

  Ransom was slumped in a chair by the bed, but he shot upright when Jack moved. “Thank God you’re awake and moving!” He leaned forward, his face blazing with relief. “Even though your breathing was better, I couldn’t quite believe you would survive. How do you feel?”

  “Like I fell off Dancer and the whole damned hunting field rode over me,” Jack said in a rasping voice. “Other than that, well enough.” With effort, he raised his right arm, regarding it with amazement before letting it flop back onto the mattress. “I take it my injuries were less severe than they seemed at first?”

  Ransom shook his head. “Your injuries were mortal, Jack. Your life was saved by a healing circle conducted by that remarkable woman whom you pledged to marry if she was successful.”

  Jack gasped. He had promised to marry some female? Patchy memories began to surface. Being carried to the
wizard’s house. An Amazon with startling eyes, his fear of dying, which led him to agree to her terms even though he’d believed his situation hopeless. Dear God, he really had promised to marry an Amazonian wizard!

  Unthinkable. Yet he had given his word, and the Amazon had recalled him from the brink of death. He had been given a second chance, and he certainly couldn’t start a new life by breaking his word. He must make the best of the situation. “I guess you’d better go to London and purchase a special license.”

  Ransom frowned. “Are you serious? Surely you would rather wait until you feel stronger. You still have a great deal of healing to do. Besides, maybe she can be persuaded to accept some other payment for her services.”

  “‘If it were done, ’twere well it were done quickly,’” Jack murmured, wondering how badly he was butchering the quote. “I made a promise, so there’s no point in waiting. Weren’t you the one who suggested that I would enjoy shocking everyone in the ton? Time I got started on that.”

  Ransom rose, a faint smile on his face. “If this is what you want, I’ll leave for London immediately. I’m better at riding than sickrooms.”

  Jack managed to lift his hand and extend it to his friend. “Thanks for being here.”

  Ransom shook his hand, hard. “Ashby’s here, too. We’ve taken turns sleeping.”

  “I am fortunate in my friends,” Jack whispered, his strength fading fast.

  “One makes good friends by being a good friend. I’ll be back by the end of the week.” Ransom touched his shoulder. “Sleep well, Jack.”

  As he slid into peaceful slumber, Jack made a mental note to ask Ashby what his bride’s name was.

  With a groan, Abby rolled over, aching in every muscle. What time was it? She opened her eyes and saw noon sunshine. She also found her friend Judith, the midwife, snoozing in the bed a foot away. What the devil?

  Judith opened her eyes and covered her mouth as she yawned. Though she was several years older than Abby, in the light she looked like a young girl. A tired young girl. “So you’re awake,” Judith observed. “How do you feel?”