A Family Oath

by Auburn Tempest

  I rise from the table and hold out my hand for his elbow. As we strike off, I tap the inside of my forearm and smile. “Birga is never far. We two ladies will be fine.”

  “As ye wish, but do try to remember we’re not here to cause trouble.”

  * * *

  I walk with Fionn until we get back to the main juncture of where the staff quarters open up to the east wing. The girl from the lodging assignments is there, standing with a girlfriend. The two of them look quite excited. Oh, like that, is it?

  Fionn waggles his brow. “Duty calls.”

  I snort and wave him off.

  Alone in a castle of hundreds, I breathe it all in and wish, not for the first time, that Sloan was here. He would die to see this.

  I have to record a little of it for him.

  Exploring unpopulated corridors, I take a selfie with a bronze dog, film a bit of drunken strip-and-shuffle as a couple disappear into one of the curtained alcoves, and take a panoramic of the torchlight lining the streets of the town below from a balcony off the fifth floor.

  After slipping my phone back into the cloth brooch bag that came with my dress, I draw a last breath of the night air and move to continue my exploration.

  I stop with my hand on the latch of the door.

  A heated scuffle inside has me stepping back into the shadows. When my back presses against the stone of the castle, I fall still and envision the shade around me intensifying.

  Shadowed Darkness. The darkness grows denser and wraps around me, concealing me completely. I slide my hands under the flap of my poncho and take a calming breath.

  The argument spills out onto the balcony and cuts off my exit.

  “—a cheat and a liar,” one man says. “Do you think because you live in the tower and have the king’s ear you get to swindle the hard-working folk out of their coin with impunity? You don’t. Give me back what’s mine, or I’ll report what you’ve done.”

  “Who do you think the guard will believe, a trusted royal advisor or the boy who paid me to cast a love spell on the stablemaster’s daughter?”

  I recognize the deep timbre of Merlin’s voice, and my heart quickens. He’s a legendary druid. Surely he’ll sense me.

  I’m so busted.

  Shit. I close my eyes and focus on my concealment spell.

  “Knowing who and what I am, is it wise to threaten me? I warned you that love spells are fickle, but there are a great many other spells I could perform to silence a boy who chose to become my adversary.”

  It doesn’t take long for the argument to fizzle out after that. The door opens again, and the balcony falls quiet.

  Thank you, baby Yoda.

  I hold my position and draw a few deep breaths as my heart gears down from total panic to racing like a rabbit. I’m surprised Merlin didn’t hear the pounding and discover me lurking in the shadows.

  “You can come out now.”

  Annnd we’re right back up to panic. I flex my fingers and shake out my sweaty palms. As I step out from my stony nook, I release my concealment spell. “Hello again.”

  “Are you following me?”

  I chuckle. “I was here first.”

  He throws me a look and his gaze narrows. “It’s dangerous to spy on powerful people. Especially for a woman.”

  I raise my palms. “I have no interest in whatever that was, but I’m glad to see you again. I know it sounds crazy, but I told you the truth before. You and I are to become friends in the far-distant future.”

  He moves to leave, and I throw out my hand.

  “Wood Wall.” The wood of the door seals to a solid sheet and the hinges and latch disappear.

  Merlin turns and pegs me with a scathing glare. “Do you not understand how dangerous it is to cast here?”

  “No. Not really. I thought in the days of Merlin and Arthur in Camelot, magic and dragons abound.”

  He makes a pinched face. “Magic and dragons abounded at one time, but the age of the One God is upon us. Now, all magic is viewed as evil sorcery, and casters are drowned or burned alive.”

  I remove the spell, and the door is a door once again. “Then I’m glad I don’t live in this time because I’d be fried extra crispy before you know it. It sucks that you aren’t able to live your authentic life yet—but it’s coming.”

  He eyes me and arches a brow. “How and why would we ever be friends?”

  “Ouch. Harsh. Because you agree to ink the spells for my brothers and me.”

  “That doesn’t sound like me.”

  I shrug. “You’re very different. In my time, you’re happy and authentic and flamboyant, and you sing.”

  He huffs and turns for the door.

  “Wait! I can prove it. Give me two minutes…please.”

  I pull out my phone and scroll through saved messages. “In the time I come from, we can send messages through devices like these. They’re like magical carrier pigeons. This is a message you sent me before I came to this time. Just listen.”

  I call up the message and play it.

  “Hey, cookie. I don’t want you wasting time searching for the Eochair Prana. Focus on Myra and her home tree. No one will find the original of Morgana’s book. Trust me when I say we took care of it. You’ll understand soon enough and when you do, know that I’m sorry I was such a drunken prat. Chin up, Fi. And good luck.”

  The call ends, and I see the first glimpse of the person I know in those eyes.

  “In my time, you shed your life as Merlin and live as a nightclub entertainer named Pan Dora. May I show you? I sat in on one of your practice sessions a few weeks ago and recorded it.”

  He’s glaring at me but doesn’t say no, so I push forward and press play. When the video of Pan Dora comes on, and she’s singing Burlesque, I feel the shift in the force.

  “You’re really good. You live above your nightclub, and you decorated it in wild colors and sexy pictures of naked men. You read my Tarot, and you’re friends with my spirit bear—Killer Clawbearer—do you know him yet?”

  He staggers back a pace.

  I’m getting through to him, so I press on. “Your club is called Queens on Queen, and you throw outrageous theme nights and parties.”

  He scrubs a hand over his face and his rings catch the light of the moon. “I’m lost to drink. It’s some kind of bafflement magic I don’t understand, and you’re ensnaring me.”

  I shake my head and put my phone away. “No. We’re friends. You’re a good person. Hell, you run a soup kitchen and feed the homeless and the hungry in your spare time.”

  He holds up his finger. “In that message, I speak of the Eochair Prana. What is it and why would I say we took care of it?”

  I spend the next twenty minutes explaining everything that happened over the past week and end with us standing here. “I think you’re supposed to help me steal the book so I can take it with me back to my time so no one can use it.”

  His face twists in horror. “I’m not the man you think I am. Maybe at one time I was—or maybe even will be—but that’s not who I am now.”

  “I get that. You told me a little about your past, and I don’t care. That’s not who you are to me.”

  “What did I tell you?” His eyes filled with equal parts of hope and fear.

  “You said over time, you wore many titles, some you were proud of and others you weren’t. Wizard. Prophet. Drunk. Confidant. King’s advisor. Mentor. And while you believe we learn from the past, you don’t enjoy looking back.”

  “That’s true. I don’t.” He points at where I put away my phone. “Show me again.”

  I play him both the video and the message a second time. If he doesn’t yet believe me fully, that’s okay. He’s not dismissing me altogether.

  “What do you know about Morgana’s book?” I ask.

  “Rumors stir—whispers really—that the witch did something vile and dangerous. No one has seen her for years. She’s mad, that one. Darkness always dwelled inside her, but it took root and festered. The
kind of magic she embraces is evil and gnarled. It will get the rest of us killed by association.”

  “So, you didn’t know there is a book?”

  “A week ago, I was in another part of the country attending to another matter. I dreamed of a sleek, black raven riding the wave of a violent storm cloud. She covered a great distance, calling darkness to feed the storm. When she finally landed, she perched on a balcony of this castle.”

  He raises a pointed finger and frowns. “A cloaked man stepped out of one of the upper levels and called the storm. He welcomed the raven. It ended there, but I knew if that great storm entered the castle, it would darken the days to come.”

  “So you came to stop it?”

  He shrugs. “Whether a prophecy or a warning, I saw it for a reason. I’m not so lost to the ways of the goddess that I would ignore something like that.”

  “So, you think she’s here?”

  “Morgana? No. I would feel her presence. But if what you say about this book is true, it would take a very powerful sorcerer to wield the summoning and bring her back from the clutches of the dark forces that claimed her.”

  “Any idea who that powerful sorcerer would be?”

  “Now that I know more, yes. The only magician in the castle with that kind of fixation on power is Bathalt of Anglia. It’s said he had a dalliance with the she-devil herself. Perhaps he thinks himself her chosen one. Those of us who know the witch better might consider him her unwitting fool.”

  “So, you think he would release her from her prison?”

  “Men do a great many stupid things for power and love.”

  “And does this Bathalt have the goods to deliver? Do you think he could do it?”

  “He has the skills as a practitioner. I don’t question that. The lusty lure of immortality and the reward of Morgana’s favor might blind him to being her pawn. And tomorrow is the equinox. If I wished to attempt something momentous, I would time it to line up with the wheel of the year.”

  “So, we take the book from him before he has a chance to complete the spell and make sure he doesn’t call her back to the living plane.”

  “We’ll need to do more than steal the book. We’ll need to resist its charms ourselves.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I know how Morgana thinks. If you say the book is ensorcelled, it will desire to be used. It will collect power by having its spells cast. Temptation and seduction will be part of her plan, to ensure if one practitioner fails, it will draw another to take up the task.”

  “So, we steal it, seal it shut, and ensure no one uses it.”

  By the arch of his brows, he’s not convinced.

  I look out at the flickering light of the town below and the stars above and wish I could talk to Granda or Da or Sloan. They always know how to tackle an impossible situation. Unfortunately, the past only got me. “Another question. If and when we get it, how do I take it back with me?”

  Merlin lifts a shoulder and frowns. “If you truly come from days yet to happen, shouldn’t you know?”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Fionn and I get to breakfast late because I’m lost in layers of dresses, but that’s fine. I’m a toast and coffee girl most mornings, and since neither is offered, I make do with a rock-hard chunk of stale bread from last night and a swig of warm wine. Yum.

  Fionn watches me with amusement in his eyes but says nothing. When he’s finished eating his fill, the two of us head off to meet with Davant in the apothecary. Although it was only our cover to justify being in the castle during the harvest festival celebration, we follow through.

  The devil is in the details, right?

  “Davant, I am Fionn mac Cumhaill.” He lays the brogue on thicker than usual. “I come bearing herbs, dried plants, and poultice ingredients you might find useful here in the castle.”

  Davant, a slim, pale man with shoulder-length white hair looks over the wares Fionn has set out and seems unimpressed. “Why would your offerings interest me, Celt?”

  Rude much?

  Fionn winks at me but doesn’t seem put out. “Because ye seem like a wise man and ye know that as the leaves turn and the trees go dormant, yer halls will fill with all manner of aches and ailments. What does that mean, Fiona?”

  I blink and say the first thing that pops into my head. “Winter is coming.”

  I almost can’t keep a straight face, but since no one here heard that in the voice of Kit Harington except me, what’s the point of giggling?

  They do however sense my mirth and look at me funny.

  “Excuse the child.” Fionn looks somber. “She’s a beauty, but she does come off addle-minded at times.”

  “Hey. Be nice.”

  The physician looks me over like I’ve suddenly become his patient. “Have you tried wormwood tea?”

  “I shall do that.”

  I roll my eyes and wander around the room while positioning my phone in front of me so I can take pictures of the apothecary for Sloan and Wallace. I bet they’ll get a kick out of seeing a medieval healer’s clinic.

  Nothing sterile about this place though. There is no stainless steel, and I’m quite sure the stench coming from the closed cabinet at the back of the room is decomp.

  I continue out to the hall to let them insult me in private. Even here, in the lower levels of the castle, the excitement of tonight’s banquet is building. Little do they know that there’s a powerful sorcerer among them who’s planning on raising a psycho-powerful dark priestess.

  Oh, to live in the unburdened bliss of the ill-informed.

  I used to. Hanging out at Shenanigans and drinking with Liam and my brothers, I thought I knew more than most because of what Da and the boys dealt with on the daily.

  Ha! I was in “tip of the iceberg” territory.

  I wander to the end of the corridor, and my shield tingles against my back. While looking around, I search the smooth, stone corridor for any sign of what might be triggering my survival instincts.

  It isn’t the burning itch of Moira’s illusion and ill intent. There’s no gut-twisting nausea like the time I was hexed. And it doesn’t feel like a million tiny spider feet racing across my back like when a breeze catches your hair, and you shiver from the tickle.

  It’s a warning tingle.

  Fionn finishes with the court physician and joins me in the hall. “What is it?”

  I shake my head and look up and down the long hallway again. “Not sure. My Spidey-senses are tingling.”

  He doesn’t understand, but he gets the gist. “Yer instincts ye mean? Like the fairies ticklin’ the little hairs on the back of yer neck?”

  I nod. “Yep. Like that. You too?”

  Fionn takes a firm hold on my elbow and turns us toward the stone staircase that curves up the tower to the main floor. “Aye, me too. Perhaps a breath of clean air and a bit of time under the rays of the sun will do us both some good.”

  * * *

  I feel better as the two of us descend the stone steps of the castle entrance. The stone courtyard is busier today than it was yesterday. The fountain is filled, and all around it are little carts and stalls with merchants selling their wares and making crafts and—“Juggling.”

  I tug on Fionn’s arm and go over to where two men in velvety costumes and striped tights are amusing the crowd. They are very good. “I signed up for juggling in a summer camp elective once. It’s not as easy as it looks.”

  Fionn studies the men who have set aside the balls and fruit and are now juggling daggers. “Those blades must be well-crafted and weighted with precision for them to be able to manipulate them like that.”

  “I bet they practice for hours every day.” A gentle push of the wind hits my face, and I turn to see what it was.

  Merlin is across the courtyard and lifts his chin in acknowledgment before turning and heading toward the stables.

  “I think we’re being called to a meeting.”

  Fionn glances around, but Merlin is gone. “Lead on.”r />
  We find Merlin in a small alleyway behind the stables. He greets Fionn with a nod, then looks at me. “I’ve done some investigating. Do you see the manservant in the brown tunic there by the blacksmith’s door?”

  I cast a subtle glance. “Yes. Who is he?”

  “He’s the manservant to Sir Bathalt of Anglia, the sorcerer I spoke to you about last night. It seems he’s asked the stableman to have his master’s horses saddled and ready to leave tonight at midnight.”

  I take another cautious look, but there’s no need for my discretion. Everyone has their attention set on the festivities, and we’re far enough out of the stream of excitement that we’re practically invisible.

  Or maybe…

  “Did you cast a spell to keep us from notice?”

  Merlin smiles. “Would you prefer we announce ourselves to the boy and have him mention it to his master that strangers were staring at him in the courtyard?”

  “No. Okay, so why are they leaving at midnight and not staying until morning?”

  “Why indeed? I assume the man expects his business here at the castle to be complete. We were right about him using the power of the autumn solstice tonight. He plans to use the turn of the wheel of the year to increase his power.”

  “All right, what’s our play?”

  Merlin smiles at me. “The pretty girl goes and makes nice with the servant boy so he leads us to his master’s chamber and the evil grimoire.”

  Fionn frowns. “Your plan hinges on her charming the boy into betraying his master?”

  I prop my hands on my hips. “You could at least try to hide your skepticism. I can be charming. I’ve got game.”

  Fionn chuckles. “You have a charm unlike any other I’ve known. I simply meant the boy might not have the sophistication to appreciate your particular graces.”

  I snort. “Yeah, yeah. Watch and learn, oul man. I’ve got this. The best way to find out what I can do is to tell me what I can’t do.”

  “That’s obstinance, not skill.”

  “Some would disagree.”

  “Aye, and that would be you. Point made.”