After he had straightened back up, Garin nearly jumped out of his skin. Arion had leaned forward a bit before seeming to disappear from the other embankment within a streak of silver. Then the beast suddenly appeared right in front of him, the movement taking less than a second!
“You can remove your hand from that hilt,” said Arion with a nicker while he took a step to the man’s right. “No harm will come to you from me.”
Reluctantly, Garin complied with the request. It was amazing how the feel of steel under his hand had helped steady his nerves. Now they were going wildly in every direction trying to comprehend why this ancient being was here. And after meeting Helka and Kylene during their time in the North, how many more whispered myths and legends would the couple run into?
“What is your steed’s name?” asked Arion politely, his head tilted towards the trembling black stallion.
Garin sympathized with his horse’s nervousness. “His name is Blackheart.”
Those deep, dark eyes filled with starshine began to stare a hole through Blackheart, who finally whinnied his discomfort at the inspection. Tossing back his silver mane, Arion returned his attention to Garin. “My daughter could have made worse choices when it came to her child’s sire,” he said after giving the man a rather uncomfortable once over with those strange eyes. “So too could have her rider. But you both seem to come from good stock, so I won’t complain.”
Unsure on whether or not that was a compliment, Garin’s jaw clenched tightly.
“Arion, old friend!” called Leto’s voice from behind him, saving him from being tempted to respond rudely to an ancient being. “What brings you this way?”
Blackheart lost his self-control completely when the silver beast calmly strode forward to meet the Draconian. One ancient creature of power had been nerve-racking enough; two in the same area was more than the animal could bear! Garin forgot everything but going over and calming the rearing stallion down. He missed most of the conversation as he grabbed the reins and made soothing noises to the terrified animal, wishing for once they had as deep an understanding as what Mattie had with her horse, Firestorm.
That thought brought him up short, until a fierce snort from Blackheart reminded him to pay attention to the task at hand. While it seemed like an eternity until the horse stopped trying to escape, Blackheart eventually gave up and rested a head against Garin’s chest. The man gave his steed’s neck a comforting rub until he felt the animal’s trembles of fear cease.
“Well done, young one,” said Arion with admiration.
Garin wasn’t sure if the ancient being was talking to him or the horse. Still he nodded his gratitude for the compliment and kept his hands on Blackheart’s reins. Then his eyes narrowed when Leto began to chuckle.
“He is a handful, I must admit,” the Draconian said a little too jovially. “So you were here to visit with your daughter?”
“She’s doing better than I could have imagined, and she’s happy to know she’ll be reunited with her friend and rider soon,” answered the silver stallion, puffing himself even fuller with pride. “Those two have been perfect for each other during these uncertain times.”
Garin decided to keep his mouth shut. Leaning against Blackheart’s flank, he was glad his constant presence was beginning to calm his steed down even more. And the information he was gleaning from the conversation was being locked away to tell Mattie later. This revelation answered a lot of questions he had about Firestorm. He knew from the beginning that she wasn’t just an ordinary horse.
Leto’s voice almost sounded like he was hunting for more information when he said, “If she had inherited your ability to speak, those two would have become even more inseparable. As it is, the young Fury has been a great help to the girl.”
“Growing up together has a tendency to do that,” answered Arion as his silver tail swished. “Why do you think I never pirated that one away to Arcadia?”
“You always have your reasons to keep some of your children away from the Great Herd.”
A loud snort issued from the gigantic horse’s nostrils. “Stop trying to figure out what I know about the coming storm. The Fates reveal their plans to each of us differently for a very good reason.”
“Am I that obvious in my attempt, old friend?”
Yes! thought Garin, who had been trying to figure a way out of the nastier possible futures since his accidental landing into the Dragon’s Heart nearly three weeks ago. Now he wished Leto had waited to come. Any small chance of stumbling on information he might need was truly gone.
Arion shook his head and let out a whinny that sounded like a dark chuckle. “We’ve played this game too many times in the past for me not to know what you were up to. Still, I will give you but one bit of advice in this regard—check the Watchtower as soon as you are able.”
“And you, old friend?” asked Leto as the wrinkles on his face multiplied from the troubled expression that formed. “What will you be doing next?”
The silver monster turned his head towards Blackheart and Garin. “Now that I have satisfied my curiosity about all three, I will be returning to Arcadia. My people will need me to be there for the foreseeable future.”
Leto let out a sigh but amicably said, “Then this will be another long farewell between us, unless our paths accidentally cross yet again.”
The great horse bowed his head low, and then the muscles in his shoulders began to ripple like water. When gossamer wings burst out and folded against the creature’s back, Garin barely refrained his gasp! Artists had tried to place such things on ancient depictions of angels, and they had failed mightily in the magnificence of how the softly glowing feathers were without blemish.
“There are no chance meetings in life, as you well know, my friend,” said Arion as he lifted his head and gave the new appendages a few quick flaps. It reminded Garin greatly of a man stretching his back after sitting still for too long. “Train this one well, Leto the Fate Changer, and the world might make it to the other side.”
Arion then nodded his head respectfully at Garin and at Leto before taking to the air, the beating of his great wings producing a fierce wind. There was a loud final neigh before nothing was left to see but a silver streak heading towards the East. Blackheart let out a relived huff while Garin snuck a glance at the wizened figure who was still watching the sky.
Fate Changer? thought Garin uneasily. Even though he knew full well the stories surrounding the Draconian, he was having a hard time matching that title with the frail looking man before him. Especially when there were tears in the ancient one’s eyes.
***
Leading Blackheart quickly along, Garin did not want to converse with Leto one bit. Between meeting the ancient one’s doppelganger inside the Dragon’s Heart and being stuck traveling with the real thing, Mattie’s agreement now rankled at the core of his very being. There had already been three teachers in his life, ones he greatly respected. He felt no need for a fourth!
Especially not one in magic!
As if the creature had read his mind, Leto called out: “Running away again will only make matters worse! Remember what happened with your foster brother, Emory!”
Halting because he needed to take a calming breath, Garin turned to face the Draconian. The leisurely pace at which Leto traveled was not interrupted one bit by the shaking of that white head of his. Concern seemed to be written on the wrinkled face, but Garin wasn’t focusing on that. He was concentrating on containing the power begging to be violently released. How dare this creature mention his deceased brother’s name!?
“Sorry if I hit upon a sore subject,” said Leto while he paused a good twenty feet away.
“What in the hell do you know about my brother?” snarled Garin, wondering if the whirlwind in his mind could take actual form.
“To be honest,” said Leto as he leaned wearily upon his unusual cane. “I’ve kept track of you all since you were born. Never interfering, of course, but each of you matched my sister�
��s prophecy so perfectly that I had to keep an eye on you from time to time. Which I did from a distance for your protection.”
“Which is also why Mattie said you didn’t seem a damn bit surprised when she showed up at your front door unannounced!” growled Garin as he took a step forward.
The rage Garin felt wasn’t unfounded. Both he and Mattie had gone through hell because of one damn prophecy or another! And here was a creature that could have warned them from the start, except he hadn’t! Why? Because of some misconceived notion that he had been helping to keep them safe!?
The temptation to tap into the swirling magic and use it against this conniving creature swiftly became impossible to resist. Seemingly out of nowhere, a tornado funnel crashed down directly behind Leto! The howl of the wind was almost deafening even as Blackheart immediately screeched, reared, and tore the restraint out of Garin’s hand. He let out a curse because he had once again managed to chase his steed away, but another profanity left his mouth when his eyes fell on Leto.
What appeared to be a frail old man took a step backwards and entered the whirling vortex. Wind whipped his white hair and beard out of the braids within which they were kept, and the robe billowed wildly. But Leto merely took in a deep breath and closed his eyes. The funnel slowly grew smaller and smaller, almost as if the creature was sucking the thing down into himself. In a matter of seconds, the tornado was completely gone.
Then Garin took a stumbling step backwards when Leto’s eyes snapped open, a glowing light within them. Mattie had told him that she believed the Draconian could absorb spells, but he hadn’t truly believed such a thing was possible! After a long moment of eerie silence, Leto closed his eyes again and took in another deep breath.
“Powerful. Brutal. But clumsy,” lectured the ancient being before he opened those bright eyes again. “Which is always the way with pent-up power.”
Garin never liked being afraid, so he turned to the other emotion he knew all too well. “It went where I wanted!” he snarled. “That has to take some control!”
“Yes,” acquiesced Leto before he lifted his hand.
A blast of air then hit Garin like a flying boulder, hurling him backwards a good twenty yards! Luckily, he crashed to the ground, knocked out of breath and short of hitting a rather large tree. Pain laced his every muscle as he lay there groaning for a second, wondering what in the hell had just happened!
A wrinkled old face he was beginning to despise came into his view when Leto leaned over him and chided, “But why send the wrath of the heavens after me when a shove of air would have gotten your point across just as well?”
Because I was pissed off! thought Garin as he glared at this self-appointed teacher.
Leto just sighed in response at the angry silence. “You should have learned this lesson long ago from Lord Gregory when you had almost lost yourself while fighting your ability to transform. Once you finally accepted it as a gift, did you know that you were one of the most powerful shapeshifters I had ever seen? No one else within the royal families could ever change forms that many times in one day and not be in a coma by the end of it.”
Garin didn’t bother to form a response and just let his skepticism be written all over his face.
“Never doubt that there’s a lot of power in you, young one,” said the ancient one, reaching down with a helping hand. “Trying to hide from the truth by bottling things up never works. Fear of what you hold will lead to that power consuming and controlling you, destroying whatever innocents might be in its path. A truth you already painfully know.”
It hurt to admit this annoying person had a point. A part of that discomfort came from stubborn pride, the other from remembering how he had lashed out at his foster brother. One of the worst days of his life was when he had nearly killed the kid with Earth magic.
Garin reached out and accepted Leto’s help to stand. Once sure his wobbly legs would hold him, he asked, “Where do we go from here then?”
The white-haired one leaned on his staff “My offer to teach still stands. As you just witnessed, I have a rather unique ability that makes me suited to train you.”
Torn between all the uncomfortable truths he had faced today, Garin’s reply was a bit snarky, “Fine, I’ll consider it. Now let’s find my damn horse again before Mattie sends out a search party for us.”
Chapter 3
Lightning flashed and revealed an all too familiar face leaning out the door. Safe from the downpour by the wraparound porch’s awning, the red-haired woman opened her mouth and caused Mattie to cringe when she angrily shouted, “Mathilda Hawksthorne Von Bos! Get your ass in here before you and your friends catch your death from the cold!”
“Seems like a charming woman,” muttered Leto sardonically as he stomped along with the rest of them through the mud, heading for the small two-story house left wide open by the disappearing hostess. Garin made a noise of agreement as he pulled his hood down lower to protect his eyes from the rain’s onslaught. The silent one for once was Selina, but that might have been because her teeth were too busy chattering from the frigid edge in the wind.
Mattie sighed as the group trudged along. The homecoming she craved was greatly delayed. Clouds of black had begun filling the sky as soon as they had greeted the morning, but at least the thunderstorm Garin had been predicting hadn’t arrived until they had drawn close to the Silver Pheasant.
With the estate still being quite a few miles down the southern road, they had hoped to find temporary shelter in her Uncle Thaddeus’ establishment and wait out the maelstrom. Unfortunately, George Avery, the groomsman, had explained that the tavern was packed to the walls this evening. And rowdy, if the boisterous sounds coming through the closed windows were any indication.
The man’s suggestion to see if Henriella Brewer would take them in for a spell hadn’t been a surprise. After all, the owner’s home was located on the southwestern edge of the Pheasant’s property. The advice was sound, yet it still had Mattie’s heart sinking for a variety of reasons. Not the least of which was the fact that the she and her aunt got along like a hawk and a viper.
Thunder began to crash as the small group arrived at the dry house. Safely within the tiled foyer as the rain outside increased in strength, they began to shuck off their wet coats and boots. Then Mattie had to make absolutely certain that those pegs and hooks were put to use. Her aunt was a stickler for order, and the last thing anyone needed to do was to get off on the wrong foot. After all, the woman was probably ready to give her niece a verbal lashing for not visiting her even once in the past year or so.
I do not want to do this, Mattie groaned to Garin.
We’re already committed, he gently pointed out as he took her hand and gave it a squeeze. She had told him about some of the fights she had in the past with this woman. Besides, she is family.
Mattie growled at that. Don’t remind me.
His chuckle had Selina rolling her eyes. After being around the couple for so long, the girl knew when a silent conversation had occurred. “Can we please go find a fire?” she groused as she began to rub her hands together.
“Mattie!” called Henriella in her shrill way. “Stop being rude to our guests and take them into the sitting room!”
Leto failed to hide a chuckle at Mattie’s expense. Wasting only enough time to glare at him, she led the trio to a cherry-red room filled with cushioned sofas and a roaring fire. The splashes of yellow along the walls here and there almost made the place seem to be awash in flame. Mattie had never liked the fire-like décor because it often made her feel as if she was entering an oven.
The others took no note of the color scheme as they headed directly to the fireplace, trying to get warm and dry. Seeing Henriella across the hall through the doorway that led into the kitchen, and standing there with her arms crossed, told Mattie that she had better wait to join them in that luxury. After letting Garin know where she was heading, Mattie soon entered the woman’s domain.
The kitchen was sti
ll the way Mattie remembered it. One of the most modern in the kingdom, complete with an iron stove that her uncle had traded nearly thirty barrels of ale to acquire. A small table that could be expanded to barely fit within the window-filled nook had cost nearly half as much. Just a couple of the many reasons the man often joked that he pointed at this room whenever his wife complained that he never did anything for her.
Green eyes were glaring in a way Mattie clearly remembered as well. Though there were a few more lines about her eyes and mouth, Henriella’s appearance hadn’t changed that much. She wore a simple emerald-colored dress that hugged her shapely at the waist, her wedding ring the only piece of jewelry she ever wore. The wild red hair had been smartly tied back with a green ribbon, making the numerous freckles on her face stand out.
Mattie crossed her arms and responded with a glare of her own. That brought a bark of laughter out of the woman, and she quickly pulled Mattie into a hug. Startled, it took her a second to return the gesture.
“I’ve missed your spunk, girl,” said Henriella as she stepped back, keeping her hands on Mattie’s shoulders. “Though I should be furious at you for getting married without a damn ceremony I could have attended. Tell me this rogue of a husband is here so I can give him an earful.”
“He is, Aunt Henriella,” Mattie said, searching the woman’s face with confusion. What happened to the unyielding bulldog she remembered? “But please don’t kill him.”
Henriella chuckled before releasing her. “I’ll leave such messy things for your uncle.”
A whistling noise split the air from a teakettle on the stovetop. In one seemingly fluid motion, the woman swiftly removed the boiling water from the heat on her way over to the pantry. While Henriella disappeared within what the family affectionately referred to as her “food vault”, Mattie decided to be helpful and went to the cupboard that held all the ceramic cups. After staring at the myriad of choices, the decision soon went with the items most likely to annoy her aunt’s sense of decorum. She had to test this new side of the woman in a big way. By the time Henriella reappeared, five large mugs of various colors were sitting on the counter by the stove.
Unraveled Homecoming Page 2
