Sorceress of Faith

by Robin D. Owens

  Red flushed beneath Chalmon’s skin. “Don’t call me a coward.”

  “Why shouldn’t I? You haven’t plane-walked to that place. I have.” Venetria gestured grandly. “Jaquar has.”

  “Plane-walking is not one of my talents,” Chalmon muttered.

  “You’ll sacrifice her. Is it so easy for you? I always thought you were a man of character,” Venetria said.

  Chalmon’s face contorted in anger. “I want to protect us. If that means sacrificing some stranger, so be it.”

  Venetria said, “I’m not sure we should—”

  “You always vacillate!” Chalmon accused. “I tell you, the worst monsters are about to spew from that maw. Dreeths. Sangviles that could easily target the Tower Community and eat us all!” He grabbed Venetria’s shoulders. “Woman, your island is the northernmost! Close to the damn border where those monsters congregate. Your defensive shields are pitiful. I won’t lose you.”

  She stared at him, eyes wide. Her mouth trembled. “You would go to such lengths to…to keep me from harm?”

  Chalmon shuddered. “Everyone of the Tower Community has seen the memory-vision of how the sangvile attacked Alyeka. I won’t have that happen to you. And that was only one sangvile.”

  Face set in hard lines, he stared at Jaquar. “Dreeths fly, and have you forgotten that if the boundary is not fully Powered between magical fence posts—and there are plenty of gaps—a horror can manifest as far inside the country as one of its own reached?”

  “That hasn’t happened in known history,” said Jaquar.

  “No? But all our Lorebooks say that it’s true. And the sangvile was in Castleton, in the Castle, in Coquille-on-the-Coast! Once the nest opens and another of its kind spews out, it could manifest in one of those places!” Chalmon said. “We have no choice: if Marian can harm the nest, we must Send her.”

  Jaquar fought for the woman he’d come to admire. “We could go to the Marshalls—specifically to the Exotique Alyeka, and ask her help in penetrating the force that shields the maw. She’s a trained warrior—both physically and magically. She knows what we’re facing. She’s fought a sangvile twice. She is one of us, now, a Lladranan. We could use her as a spearhead into the maw, follow her in. That could work.”

  Silence filled the chamber as all three of them considered the plan.

  “I always liked that idea.” Venetria’s face shone. “She can penetrate the nest’s shield and the rest of the Marshalls will follow immediately. We could go, too.”

  Her Song was utterly sincere, and Jaquar relaxed.

  Chalmon sat on a sofa and leaned back, pulling Venetria down and close to him. He smiled patronizingly, his usual expression around Jaquar, and nodded. “A good idea.”

  “And the Marshalls can move fast! They’re used to mobilizing quickly,” Venetria said.

  Eyebrows raised, Chalmon said dryly, “If Bastien and the other Marshalls don’t kill you for mentioning the idea to Alexa.”

  Jaquar decided to speak to Bastien alone, first. Relief flooded him that he’d found a new plan. Chalmon and Venetria had been convinced. “I’ll contact Bastien and Alyeka in the near future, before the maw opens again.” His gaze swept the room. “Alyeka is a very Powerful, strong, experienced fighter and foresighted woman. I think she’ll agree to spearhead our force.” He smiled sharply, “And she is linked to the Marshalls. We will follow. And do you think any Marshall won’t support her? They always work as a team.”

  “The last time the Tower and the Castle tried a joint effort—some two centuries ago—it didn’t work,” Chalmon said, considering.

  “Who will hold the focus of this combined Power?” Venetria frowned.

  Jaquar smiled. “Why, our Exotique, who is bound to Bossgond and Alyeka. I will provide support, since I had a tentative link with Alyeka, and thus the Marshalls, in that last battle.” He met each Circlet’s eyes, impressed upon them his determination and confidence that this was the right path to take.

  When no one denied his logic, he bowed to them all, turned and left.

  Just before he shut the outer door behind him, he heard Chalmon say thoughtfully, “Do you think Jaquar’s bonded with our new Exotique, too?”

  “There is definitely a chord sounding between them,” Venetria said.

  Jaquar closed the door, smiling a little. He had won the game, and Marian would never know the depths he had sunk to, when ravaged by grief.

  For Marian, the books hadn’t been too hard to read after all. At first, the sight of the words seemed to sear into her head as if they were written in neon. But when she put her finger on the words, trying to learn the alphabet and sound them out, she heard the sound-songs of them in her mind.

  By the time she felt too exhausted to continue her search through the Medical texts, she knew how to read. Some of the more complex words still stymied her, and connotations and concepts might be difficult, but overall, she was pleased with her work. She didn’t think she’d be able to read aloud anytime soon, though. And as she dressed in her nightgown and climbed into her bed, she wondered how soon the language of Lladranan—reading and speaking—would vanish from her mind when she returned to Earth. Would she go to France in the future and speak with a Lladranan accent? Or would she have to relearn French?

  She smiled to herself as sleep crept close. Her concentration had been intense, and with the unaccustomed activities of the day, she hadn’t been able to read more than a couple of hours—not even long enough to listen to the entire “Magic Flute.” But she had found small traces of information regarding something the Lladranans called “cortifremi,” which sounded like MS. As she slipped into sleep, hope filled her that she’d be able to find a magical—Powerful—cure she could apply to her brother.

  She awoke to stifling dark and stark terror. The horrible sound of swooping wings accompanied the brush of dusty feathers on her face. She screamed and heard no sound.

  This was not a nightmare. She was awake, cold sweat coating her body. She couldn’t move.

  The thing perched on the bottom frame of her sleigh bed, eyes gleaming.

  18

  Clutching the covers until her fingers hurt, Marian stared at the bird. A black vulture with a bare red head.

  It stared back. There was something about the tilt of its head, the glow of its eyes, the…the…delicacy of its Song. It loomed about a foot high. Weren’t vultures bigger?

  Sinafin? Marian sent the being a mental call. Sweet relief poured through her.

  The glittering black gaze pierced her. She could have sworn a splinter of pain entered her chest.

  Are you sure? whispered like dry dust in her mind.

  Marian wasn’t at all sure.

  The bird lifted wings and sidestepped down the footboard with the sound of sharp claws scritching against the wood, raising gooseflesh on Marian’s arms. Her heart thundered in her ears. What do you want? Even if she could move, she didn’t know if she’d be able to speak.

  Are you trying to talk to me? asked the creature. I can’t hear you. Try harder.

  The tone slapped her mentally—an order, nearly a compulsion.

  Sinafin? Marian mind-whispered.

  A flash of blue lightning blinded Marian, and when the spots faded from her vision she saw the creature was now dead white, a skeletal thing. Only the eyes were alive, and they were cold and demanding.

  But Marian knew what it was. It was the magical shapeshifter, the feycoocu. Sinafin. What did the being want of her? Marian could think only of Alexa’s parting words. Sinafin can be trusted to do what is best for Lladrana.

  I can’t hear you. Lightning flashed again and, blinking, Marian saw the vulture was now covered in a long black robe, a cowl draped over its head, showing only beak and glowing red eyes that stared at her inimically.

  It clicked its beak in threat. Marian moaned. No sound emerged. She could make no sound!

  I can’t hear you. You must call louder. The vulture hopped down from the rail, robe flapping, and lit on her
feet. Claws curled over her toes. It felt heavy, pressing hard against her feet. Marian shrieked silently in her head.

  Marian watched in horror as it extended one clawed foot and set it down on her ankle. It would walk up her body! She thought her heart would burst from the terror.

  Her mind gibbered, then put syllables together in a mental cry. Sinafin!

  I can barely hear you. Try harder. Another step and it settled on her ankles, not heavy now, but moving with a dry rustling that made Marian tremble.

  Sinafin!

  Better. Try again.

  SINAFIN.

  It stopped, foot raised, ready to step up on her shin. Its beak opened in what appeared to be a grotesque smile.

  SINAFIN! Marian screamed with her mind. Pushed aside fear to grasp at the elusive wild Song of the small magical being. SINAFIN!

  Marian envisioned it as a she, a pretty fairy. SINAFIN, FEYCOOCU! The bed seemed to vibrate with the force of her mind-call.

  The vulture flew—backward—to the footboard. Tilted its head. Louder—use all your senses, all your will.

  The feycoocu was a fairy, with black hair and blue wings, with a wild, delicate, fascinating Song. She had smelled of…of…a spicy floral scent. She was not heavy, she was light. An…aura…a rainbow of Power surrounded her. Marian clutched the knowledge to her, built the little being as a three-dimensional entity. Marian used all her senses. Holding the image of the feycoocu in her mind, Marian yelled, SINAFIN!

  The Tower itself seemed to tremble with the reverberation of her cry.

  Sinafin perched on the curving wood of the footboard. That might do. Her wings were hunched up around her head.

  You have learned your lesson. The bird shot by Marian, curved beak skimming her face, leaving a tingle. Tell no one of this. It disappeared through the wall above Marian’s head.

  “L-light,” Marian gasped, and all the wall sconces, every candle and both fireplaces flared to life.

  It wasn’t enough. She was chilled and could think of no spells that would warm her.

  She was so cold she couldn’t think—from the terror? Had Sinafin harmed her somehow?

  As the trembling subsided, Marian began to scrape together some logic and reason. If Sinafin acted in the best interests of Lladrana, why had she terrorized Marian? How could that help the land?

  And she wasn’t going to let a—a vulture intimidate her, keep her quiet. No. Sinafin wouldn’t hurt her. If Sinafin was once a creature like Tuck—or if Tuck could metamorphose into a being like Sinafin—a feycoocu was not an evil or cruel entity. The reasoning cut through the last dregs of terror, let other thoughts well up—how Marian had initially been amused and pleased with Sinafin, had sensed that the fairy had been concerned for her, later approved of her.

  Sinafin had said she loved Alexa. A being like that wouldn’t torture without reason. Would she?

  “Let’s send the hamster ball to the Dark nest,” Chalmon said calmly as soon as they heard Jaquar’s volaran take to the skies.

  Venetria jerked. “What? We decided to follow a different plan.”

  “No,” said Chalmon calmly. “Jaquar decided to remove himself from his original plan and try another. It has merits, but he’ll fail. The Marshalls won’t listen to him, and even if they do, they will take time to think and act. Didn’t they wait nearly a year before informing the rest of Lladrana that the fence posts were falling? Summoning an Exotique was their last, most desperate solution to the problem.”

  “They are committed to fighting the Dark now,” Venetria said. “There are many more of them. They’ll listen to Jaquar and move quickly.” She was speaking fast, but she liked the new plan, didn’t want the worry and guilt that had enveloped her when she’d considered the old solution to the Dark.

  Chalmon snorted. “Have you ever heard of a Marshall plane-walking? They won’t cooperate with us, and they won’t want to fight on an ephemeral plane.”

  “But we don’t have the experience of the Marshalls in working together to do a Sending or a Summoning. We might not be able to send the Exotique into the nest.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “That’s why we need to follow through with the experiment.” He glanced at the water clock. “Other Scholars and Circlets who agree with me will be arriving momentarily to help.”

  “Tonight?” Venetria said blankly.

  Chalmon brushed a soft kiss over her mouth, the pure tenderness in the stream of his Song softening her.

  Then the doorharp trilled and Bossgond answered to the first of fifteen people. Venetria watched, torn, as he calmly prepared for plane-walking, a skill he wasn’t proficient in. Finally, he was ready, and gestured the others to ascend to his Ritual room on the top floor.

  That had been open and ready, too, and Chalmon hadn’t told her.

  “I know you are conflicted on this matter. I want to make it as easy as possible for you.” He held out his hand. “I need our Song, too.”

  “What plane do you visit?” she asked dully.

  “The fifteenth.”

  “One Jaquar does not frequent.”

  Chalmon shrugged and his lips thinned. “You insist on remaining at your vulnerable Tower. I will protect you with my last breath.”

  She tossed her head. “You want information about the Dark—”

  “We all do.”

  “You want to destroy the Dark’s nest.”

  “A worthy ambition.”

  “Not if it means sacrificing an innocent woman!”

  “We’ve had this discussion.” He dropped his hand and turned to the door. “Come or stay.”

  “What if I say I will live with you until the Dark is destroyed?”

  He turned away, glittering gaze meeting hers. “Will you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Promise on your keystone?”

  “Yes.”

  He inhaled deeply, then let out the breath. “Then I’ll say we should go forward with this experiment, just to see what happens.”

  “Will you consider Jaquar’s new plan?”

  “We will wait and watch.”

  How long? She didn’t want to push him, because then he would turn intractable. A great weight bowed her down. She would be making hard choices. Walking up to him, she put her hand in his. “I’ll come.”

  The Ritual passed quickly, as if each person had been practicing it. Only Venetria and Chalmon and a third Circlet with an explosive arrow would actually travel, the rest sang Songs that bonded them temporarily to Chalmon, sending him strength. He, in turn, would allow those left behind to experience what he did. He held the strange orb of the Exotique’s companion in his hand. It still smelled.

  Venetria struggled to stay on the fifteenth plane, and Chalmon helped her. Finally they reached the observation point overlooking the Dark’s maw.

  Watch for me, and tell me the next time the shield darkens.

  Her form wavering, Venetria watched. Now! she cried.

  With a mental grunt of effort, Chalmon threw the clear hollow ball at the nest. Another Circlet lobbed the small arrow of an explosive spell.

  The ball penetrated the shield.

  The seething maw stilled.

  The arrow broke as it hit the shield.

  It worked! the other Circlet screamed. Exotique essence harms the nest.

  Venetria lost control, and Chalmon and the other had to hold her within this plane.

  But the arrow failed. The Exotique Terre artifact was not strong enough. Chalmon’s mental voice held the hollow echoes of doom. Watch the nest, ordered Chalmon. Send me word when it is active once more. He cut all the strands but Venetria’s that sent him energy with a sweep of his arm. His form shuddered, wisped into nothing. She followed, fearing what would come back to his tower, where she would stay with him.

  Finally Marian called Alexa. Alexa! she shouted.

  Through her bond with the other woman, Marian felt a pulse of surprised fear. Shit, Marian, could you scream a little lower? You woke me up.

  Mari
an closed her eyes. It had worked! She’d added a little wind-spell chant to her call and it had worked! She giggled. It sounded high and nervous to her ears. No more crystal balls for her.

  Is Sinafin there? Marian asked, opening her eyes and scanning her place for the dozenth time.

  Mind grumbling, Alexa seemed to check, then said, I don’t see her. She is her own person. I don’t keep tabs on her.

  Marian puffed out a breath. Alexa, she was just here, in my rooms at Jaquar’s Tower. Terrorizing me.

  What?

  I swear she did the best she could to scare me out of my skin. She was a vulture.

  A vulture, huh. Another name for buzzard, right?

  Yes.

  Alexa’s mind-tone almost sounded amused. Marian received the impression that Sinafin had been everything from a cockroach to a chinchilla. Then Alexa’s mind turned to thinking. I hate to say this—

  Marian could almost see Alexa making a face. Yes? She prompted.

  But if Sinafin terrorized you, it was probably for your own good.

  The chill of fear crept back into Marian’s bones. She wrapped the comforter tighter around her, hummed the little fire-tune that had gone out of her head earlier. Warmth enveloped her, but her insides remained cold. That doesn’t sound good. The deductions one makes from that statement…

  Yeah, Alexa agreed. If she’s terrorizing you for your own good, she probably thinks you’re gonna face something even scarier.

  She did say I’d learned my lesson.

  Huh, Alexa said. Then I’d be sure to practice what she taught you. What lesson?

  At that moment a siren shrieked—and it was Alexa hearing it. The sound punched through their connection accompanied by Alexa’s sweeping emotions—feelings spurred by upcoming battle.

  Gotta go. Invasion alarm. They aren’t supposed to attack at night. Something’s up.

  Marian received an impression of Alexa jumping from bed, racing to her chain-mail, baton flashing into her hand and Bastien at her heels.

  Take care.