Ley Lines

by Lisa Lowell

  * * *

  Vamilion stood frozen on the edge of the forest in utter terror. He didn't know how to act and the Wise One instincts at first provided no guidance. He easily recognized the menacing presence of this sorcerer who had stalked him for years. The hunted had watched his hunter for some time and knew the evil of which Drake was capable. Vamilion's fear came from that understanding and while he had tried to warn Gailin, it would have been impossible to prepare her by giving her that knowledge. Better to arm her than warn her, he told himself. But that didn't comfort him as he stood helpless, staring blindly into the darkness, unable to see the cabin that his magical senses told him sheltered just beyond in the trees.

  How could he help her? Vamilion used magic to listen in on the conversation and approved how Gailin's shield over her thoughts remained steady, but that also meant he had no idea what she was planning. He didn't want to get close enough to understand her. Could he get past the sorcerer's own shields and snap that neck with a well-placed magical blow before Drake knew of the attack? Again Vamilion had to battle with the completely ridiculous idea of letting her perish, allowing him to go home to Paget, content in the knowledge that he would one day find another Gailin, long after Paget had died and he would not be faced with this moral dilemma. Or would that even work now that he had given Gailin the Heart Stone? Probably not.

  Of course it was an idle and evil thought, unworthy of a Wise One. He had sworn himself to help all the citizens of the Land, including Gailin. He had just put her into the viper's den and would immediately pull her back out if he could. Vamilion knew he would sacrifice himself rather than let a single strand of that brilliant warm hair be harmed. He remembered its stunning shade from when he had touched her braid, ever so briefly, as he placed that noose around her neck and now it remained burned into his mind. He wanted to study the color, like amber or a topaz in the deep wells of the mountains.

  Stop it! Vamilion snarled at himself as he reined in his wandering mind and concentrated again. The grandmother was alive and asleep. Drake had no idea how much magic, if any, Gailin possessed and she seemed in no immediate danger. That left Vamilion safe to watch closely and craft a few ideas of how to kill Drake the instant Vamilion sensed his motivations turned and would be a threat to Gailin. How long until Drake gave up trying to puzzle out Gailin's powers and revealed his true self? Part of Vamilion wished it would not be long. He wanted her out of danger, off Seeking on her own. The patience of the mountain within him only built up the tension until it snapped in an earthquake; hopefully one that could bury Drake forever, despite his interminably long life.

  While he waited, to distract himself, Vamilion crafted a letter to Paget, carving it into his tablet rather than using ink or graphite. He had set up this system years ago so that she would see a corresponding tablet in their home in the mountains and know he was thinking of her. It was not unlike the book he had given Gailin, but the act of carving his little notes to his wife was more to his liking, comforting even. He chiseled his message and then blew away the chips and stone dust to read what he'd crafted.

  “I'm in the forest, far from you. It will be a while longer. I am finally going to challenge the snake. Sleep well, my love.”

  After he finished, he wrote some commentary in Gailin's book, giving her his thoughts on what Drake had revealed in the evening's conversation, but he didn't put the compulsion on it, only giving her the desire to look when it was a safe time. That could wait. Nothing urgent. But as he set aside his stylus, Vamilion shuddered. It felt wrong to write to both women in such a similar, intimate way. Was he already being unfaithful? His message to Paget was only of love, while the words to Gailin would keep her alive. He didn't want to see the similarities, but they were there, waiting to come out in the light of day and he knew it. Vamilion sat in this virtual cavern of avoidance, choosing not to come out even though he knew the passageway was right before him. He would rather wait in his dark isolation a bit longer, under the crushing mountain of indecision a few more years.

  Resolutely, he decided to think of his own comfort and conjured himself a camp since he probably would be there on the forest edge for a time. Fire, tent, and a warm meal appeared while he listened to Gailin's conversation with Drake. Part of him wanted to be jealous of the charm the magician was implementing, but Vamilion also wanted to resist it. Gailin had a right to be courted by any man she chose. However, the Mountain King also yearned nothing more than to burst in on them and warn her, preferably while throttling the lying demon, that everything he was saying was an evil seduction. Another part of him hoped that she was seeing through his deceptions for herself. Vamilion couldn't tell without going into her mind and he almost swore himself into not doing anything, at least until he was free to love her. However, an oath by a Wise One was binding, so he didn't dare.

  * * *

  Gailin felt terribly tired after her long day but also too afraid to close her eyes. Could she dare sleep with this man in her house? Could she keep her shields up even in her dreams? What about the awkwardness of sleeping arrangements? There were only the two small beds and Grandmother already occupied one.

  “So, where do you live?” she asked conversationally, trying to bring up the uncomfortable topic as she washed up the dishes and Drake banked the fire.

  “Anywhere you want me to,” he replied, not looking back at her, but his voice had changed, turning even more matter-of-fact. Abruptly Gailin realized he had not answered her question, but instead made it a proposition. This could be dangerous for her in more ways than one. Was he trying to seduce her? When he could have just commanded her? Perhaps he wanted to have her come to him willingly. The thought had not occurred to her, for she had been so concerned about the magic. She had not considered what he might want to do to her body. She had never imagined herself a beauty or that someone would want her that way. Even Jonis had held back, uncertain and awkward, after he realized how busy she was with her healing.

  Just as she felt she might panic at these terrible considerations, an inspired Wise One idea emerged. “I think there are extra blankets in the attic. I can get them for you and we will make you a bed.” At the same moment she was creating the blankets so it wasn't a lie until she knew if she had been successful or not. It was subtle magic that he hopefully would not notice. Instead she went to the ladder that led up into the rafters to the attic – really a few planks placed across the ceiling joists – and found what she had created and then tossed down to him.

  Why was she accepting his invasion of her life? If she truly had just returned home, unaware of the name magic, Drake should be on his way. Wouldn't that be how it would be if she found Jonis here waiting for her, watching over Grandmother? Perhaps not this late, but he would definitely be heading home in the morning. So why was she expecting Drake to stay? Was it because she knew he held her name over her head, because he had offered the lure of medical training, or was she attracted to him?

  More questions than she could count, let alone concentrate upon. Witlessly she blew out the lantern and lay down fully dressed in her bed, letting Drake make his own way with the blankets. She wasn't being a courteous hostess but at the moment, she really didn't care. Gailin wished privately that she had the energy to open up her book and write a bit, but it could wait until morning. Since her grandmother had fallen ill, Gailin had developed an internal clock, allowing her to waken at whatever time she must to tend to Grandmother's needs, and she did so now. She wanted to wake an hour before dawn so that she may go out and write to Vamilion without observation. Hopefully she would feel better, safer in the morning light, with a dangerous stranger on the other side of the room from her.

  Much to her surprise, she did sleep and dream.

  The dream came as an unexpected shift from her fear. For one thing, Grandma guided her on the way, wandering through twisting, spongy tunnels that pulsed with a squishing beat. The disgusting surroundings didn't seem to faze Grandma, who took her hand, cheerful and chattering, heal
thy and whole again, as she had been in Gailin's oldest recollections. “Memory and knowledge are on the outer sides, vision in the very back and while these would be good, let's go down some levels and see where the emotions are. It could take ages to get to where he truly resides. It's his feelings we must seek.”

  “What do you mean, Grandma?” Gailin asked, pulling back against her guide's firm grip. Indeed it felt like she was a child again, being dragged from her parent's funeral after the plague had taken them and now she must go, willing or no, with her Grandmother. She wanted to remain behind, but that was not an option and now these sticky, oozing passageways must be navigated. Where was Grandma taking her?

  “You'll want to see this. There are the souls you must free,” Grandma insisted as they ducked down deeper and the passages grew darker; a sickly purple red and the floor over which they stepped grew slick with the moisture that seeped off the surface. Meanwhile the throbbing that seemed to echo through the paths grew louder, more insistent. Gailin thought it familiar but when she realized it was a heartbeat, she pulled back again mightily.

  “Grandma, are we inside someone?”

  The elder woman looked back at her as if this was obvious. “The mind of a murderer, a Soul Eater. You must seek for the light and snuff it out. Find the fire within and douse it. And his resides in the lower places. Where it is dark and warm. He has kept them there, trapped and has fed off them.”

  “Them?” Gailin asked with a chilled thought. She suspected where she had been transported but she dare not think it, let alone say it aloud even in her dreams.

  “The Eaten Ones,” Grandma insisted and then pulled her back into moving down through the brain of a demon, past Drake's memories and into the cortex where emotions dwelt. The fascinated healer of Gailin's personality wondered at the pulsing and texture of the material about them. How did it store information, process life and encase a soul? She wanted to reach out and touch, but the wiser part of her knew that would be dangerous. She was within an evil brain within a dream. There would be better places to study and learn.

  Grandma had at last brought her to the destination she sought, down at the base of the skull, almost black with blood and the dark of Drake's thoughts. Gailin wanted, and yet dare not try to see better, or call up some light. She could barely make out the wall of a membrane before her. It was ribbed, but thin as gauze and translucent. Encased in the sac of tissue that filled the passageway, she saw faces and hands pressed against the barrier, straining against it, stretching out the material. She could almost imagine their screams, for she could see their mouths, open in horror, pressed, breathless and struggling to be free. She coiled back in terror.

  “The souls he feeds on,” Grandma confirmed. “Remember and do not be deceived.”

  Chapter 5 – Lessons in Hard Things

  Gailin burst awake gasping. Her eyes saw nothing, for dawn had not yet lifted. She struggled to control her breathing and oriented herself. Greatly daring, she reached her mind out to brush against Grandmother, and found she too was just coming out of a dream but she would not waken for a while. The poor old woman slept more than anything nowadays, which was probably for the best. If she knew what the granddaughter she had raised was going through Grandmother would die of fright right there.

  Next Gailin reached very carefully toward the front of the room where she had heard Drake make his bed the evening before. To her surprise, he was gone, or she could not sense him. She pushed out farther, seeking in the darkest hour of the night. With her magic she brushed against Vamilion's shields, sleeping a few miles beyond the river. She needed answers and she needed them now. Ruthlessly, she shook Vamilion awake with a jarring thought and then snatched up the book, realized she couldn't see to write and had to fumble with the lantern to get enough light while she listened to Vamilion's mind groggily come to awareness. By the time she knew he could concentrate, she had hastily scratched dozens of questions into a randomly opened page.

  “He's not here. What should I do? He just assumed he could stay here and I'm frightened. He hasn't done anything overtly magical, but he spent the night and I was able to conjure blankets without him noticing but…but I think he wants more than magic from me. His tongue is split like a snake…”

  Her hand froze and she realized what she'd done again. Vamilion had to stop her in order to get a word in edgewise.

  “Relax, you're doing well,” Vamilion wrote. “He suspects, but he does not know. You talked about medicine and apparently you've come to an agreement to teach each other. This is good. He left toward town soon after you fell asleep to get something, I suspect, for that teaching. He will be back soon. He won't leave you now that he's got you in his trap. You saw his forked tongue because the Heart Stone shows you the truth when you need to see it. If you put him fully under a spell of truth you would see a monster. Don't do that. It's unnecessary and he would know. So what have you learned about him that I couldn't hear in a conversation?”

  “Does a dream count?” she wrote, having forgotten that in her panic at realizing Drake had gone. For all she knew the dream was a foreshadowing of him returning with a command for her to die.

  “No, he values you. Tell me about your dream,” Vamilion ordered.

  Slowly she set out for Vamilion all she had experienced in Drake's brain during the tour led by her grandmother. Though the imagery haunted, she had no problem interpreting it. “You are right,” Vamilion declared as she finally stopped writing. “This confirms that he is a Soul Eater. He uses the lives of his victims to keep his going. We will have to release all of the souls before he can actually be killed. It's a good thing I did not challenge him or you would be dead. Now, other than in his brain, did you gain any understanding of where these souls are stored?”

  “It's at the base of his brain. My grandmother made it a point to say it wasn't in his vision or knowledge areas or movement, or any of his senses, but down near the base, where emotions reside.”

  “It seems a study of anatomy is necessary on many levels then,” Vamilion commented. “This is good. I had not learned that he was a Soul Eater. Has he shown you any magic at all?”

  “Not unless you count making himself at home without me being offended. I don't know if I'm being seduced, bespelled or if I really want to learn what he's offering to teach me. All I know is that he's staying in my home and I can think of no safe way to kick him out.”

  “Then his goals and your Wise One instincts are on the same path, at least for the time being. Do you feel safe enough to go on your own for a bit. I want to speak to Owailion about this situation and I cannot persuade him to come from here. I must go north for a while.”

  “Can we still write?” she asked.

  “Yes, the book will still reach me no matter how far the distance. I will come back as quickly as I can. I'm still Seeking an efficient means of magical travel. If Owailion would simply answer me when I call him I would not need to go to him at all.”

  Gailin stopped him with one more question. “Before you go, can you find my friend Jonis? He would have come to protect Grandmother while I was gone, and Drake said he went back to his farm, but I saw the tongue flick at that and I don't believe him.”

  He sensed no reluctance at this request, as if Vamilion would have done anything for her. “Where does this Jonis live? Can you show me a picture?” he asked.

  Gailin hadn't tried this magical skill before, but she concentrated, imagining Jonis' apple farm set half a mile south down the river from the village where the young man had homesteaded by planting a struggling orchard. The apples were the only thing that distinguished it from all the other hardscrabble homes in the area. Then Gailin imagined herself bundling that image into a folded page and passed that impression toward the book where it made an imprint of her vivid detail right on the page.

  “I've got it. That was good work. You should add pictures of your plants that way. It's better than drawing,” Vamilion commented. “I will return as soon as I can.”

>   Gailin felt Vamilion's mind fading as he departed into the dawn that began dusting the window outside. She didn't dare go back to sleep right now, but thought longingly of a bath while Drake was not here. Resolutely she rose and went to get the water bucket. Usually she bathed in the river if it was warm enough and she would use magic right now to warm the water a bit rather than wash in the cabin in case Drake were to return. Grandma would sleep a while longer.

  By the time she got back, having also washed her shift, Drake had returned with a strange load that he had heaved onto the table, wrapped in canvas.

  “Good morning,” he said without comment at her absence.

  Fearfully she murmured the same. Since he did not begin to explain his huge package, Gailin began her own project for the morning. She carefully poured a measured amount of water into her pot. Then, as she began adding the various ingredients for her healing broth, she also started instructing. “I add cayenne for arthritis, cinnamon for the heart.”

  “Is this all written in your book?” Drake asked as he watched her pulling powders out of the larder.

  “They will be. I've not had a chance to write much yet. I will put the drawings of the plants as well as how to prepare the ingredients and their uses. It's best to memorize this, for few can read here in the Land.”

  “So I've noticed. How is it that you learned?” Drake asked with little sincere curiosity.

  Gailin recognized that he only wanted to know more about her to manipulate her, so she kept her instructions interspersed, making it seem less intimate to have him know so much about her that was harmless. “Cloves for inflammation,” she added and then looked over at Grandma. “She taught me. She's from Malornia, where they learned to read, but could do little else because of the magic. She taught me all I know.”