A Tapestry of Spells (34 page)

Ruith cursed silently and thoroughly as he walked away to tend to horses. Daniel apparently knew what he wanted, even if he wasn’t precisely sure how to have it. And if he knew where the well was and what it could provide him, there was no reason to believe he wouldn’t go to Ceangail’s keep itself and see what could be had there.

Unfortunately, Ruith knew exactly what Daniel would find there. Darkness. Unrelenting darkness and souls wallowing quite happily in it. His mother had suffered her time there only because she’d known her husband might become suspicious of her if she refused to accompany him to his adopted home.

Perhaps Daniel intended to find the rest of Gair’s book there, then bind it all back together, and attempt to work magic from it. Ruith wasn’t so much worried about what Daniel might do, but he was very concerned what someone more powerful might do if they have that collection of immensely powerful spells in one place.

Once the company was ready to go, he sent them off and remained behind with Sarah. He squatted down and sketched out a map in the dirt for her. They were traveling along the northwest corner of the forest that sheltered Ainneamh within its magical boughs. Ruith wished he could claim that he couldn’t feel that magic, but the truth was, he could. It was only the faintest echo of song teasing the back of his mind, but aye, he could feel it.

It was beautiful.

He supposed he could leave the company to its fate, take Sarah, and beg asylum there. After all Sgath was the son of Ghèillear of Ainneamh. Though King Ghèillear had long since passed from the world, his name was revered and a kinship with him would have been honored. Ruith could have found a corner of the kingdom, built Sarah a house with a weaving chamber for her, a library for him, and an enormous hearth for them both where they could sit in the evenings and speak of the simple things of the day. They would have been free from darkness and the road ahead that led places he knew he wasn’t going to want to go.

“Ruith?”

He looked at her, kneeling in the dirt next to him, and had the overwhelming urge to lean over and kiss her. Or ask her to wed him. Or perhaps both, or one right after the other.

She frowned. “Are you unwell?”

He had no idea how to answer that. He could only shake his head and look down, trying to remember where he’d been before his mind had wandered off into paths he dared not tread. He couldn’t take her into Ehrne of Ainneamh’s kingdom for two reasons: Daniel of Doìre and monsters that were looking for him alone. He couldn’t bring the latter with him and he couldn’t ignore the former.

“Ruith?”

He dragged himself back to the map before him. “This road here,” he said, clearing his throat roughly, “winds past the elven kingdom of Ainneamh—”

“Does it?” Sarah asked in surprise.

“We won’t go for a visit if you’d rather not.”

“I might say something I shouldn’t,” she admitted. “About their terrible beauty or enormous arrogance.”

He smiled. “You would perhaps be justified—at least in the latter. The truth is, not many manage to cross the borders of Ainneamh and even fewer escape to tell what they’ve seen. Though we could attempt a quick peek, if you wanted.”

“At this point, Ruith, I would be happy to see anything that wasn’t on fire.”

He reached out and smoothed his hand over her hair before he thought better of it. He had to do it a time or two more until he had the urge to put his arms around her and never let her go completely under control. He attempted a smile.

“I’m sorry.”

She shook her head. “This is my quest. I knew when I set out that it would be difficult.”

He imagined that was true, but he also imagined that she had, as he had, grossly underestimated just how difficult it would turn out to be.

He looked down at the map in the dirt and fiddled with the lines for a bit, drawing the road north and west that led first to Coinnich before it wended its way south of Chagailt and caught up with the main road that led from Angesand north to the crossroads. From there, it was a long and difficult journey to Tor Neroche, the palace of King Adhémar, or an easier road could be taken east to the country of Penrhyn where the wine was tart and the princesses acidic.

Not that he knew that personally. He had traveled as a child, of course, but not after—

“You didn’t sleep well.”

He focused on her with an effort. “Forgive me,” he said with a sigh. “I’m not particularly tired. Just lost in thought.” He forced himself to concentrate on the map before him. “We’ll travel north a bit longer, then turn east, skirting the northern border of Ainneamh. The road will become more difficult there as it winds up into the mountains. If we turn north again, we’ll eventually reach Slighe, the crossroads that is, surprisingly, the last village of any size before the plains of Ailean. I suppose if you cared to, you could travel past the Sgùrrach mountains and turn north. Léige is there, the dwarvish kingdom, as well as other places that I’m not particularly familiar with.”

She looked down at his map. “And that place of power that Daniel spoke of? Do you have any idea where that might be found?”

He traced the road with the tip of his knife. He watched as that blade wound its way northward from Ainneamh, through the mountains, to the keep of Ceangail. It was a fairly simple journey west to a forest near the grim, unrelenting mountains that had protected his father’s keep. So, aye, he had a rather good idea where Daniel’s destination might be found.

Would that he didn’t.

“There is a forest here,” he said, having to force himself to trace and not stab the innocent ground in front of him. “In that forest there is rumored to be a well of power.” He looked at her to find her watching him without any sign of distaste or terror.

He couldn’t guarantee she wouldn’t feel both if he allowed her anywhere near the place.

Which, now that the reality was staring him in the face, he would do only if he were too dead to stop her.

“We’ll scout out a few less dangerous locales first,” he said, fingering the hilt of his knife. “Just to see if they’ve seen him.” Just to see where he might safely leave her behind.

She studied the map, then pointed to a crook in the road. “There is a barn here. We should see what’s there.”

He had to force himself to breathe evenly. “Can you see your brother?”

She shook her head slowly. “Just the pages, and perhaps not even those. I could just be dreaming. I can’t see the ones he has, but I’m not sure why not.”

He had no answer for that. He couldn’t imagine Daniel was clever enough to bother using a spell of concealment.

“I’m not sure there are words to describe how much I don’t want to do any of this.”

He rose and pulled her to her feet. “I imagine every Hero of note said the same thing at one time or another. I don’t blame you for it.”

And he didn’t. There were, as it happened, no words to describe how much he didn’t want her to come any farther along the road that lay before them. His only comfort was that her road would end soon. He would go to the well, stop Daniel, then go back and fetch Sarah. They could collect the pages in relative safety, destroy them, then move on with their lives.

She nodded, then watched him silently as he erased the map with the toe of his boot. She didn’t move, though, when he reached for the reins of their horses. He paused and looked at her in surprise.

“What is it?”

She hesitated. “Now that I can see the pages, do we need Daniel?”

Ruith considered the reins in his hand for a moment or two, then handed her hers. “I think that he still has a part to play in this all,” he said slowly.

“I suppose you have it aright.”

He couldn’t blame her for questioning the plan, or for worrying. He had spent his share of time wondering if he was making a terrible mistake.

But the alternative was to unearth what he’d buried a score of years ago. It was one thing to briefly use magic for the purpose of healing Seirceil; it was another thing entirely to use it to seek out and destroy another human being. He had been faced at every turn with what his father had once been and then become, and he couldn’t set a single foot to that path.

Nay, he would find Daniel and stop him by normal means. If he couldn’t track and subdue a simple village witch’s brat without the aid of his magic, then the past score of years had been ill spent indeed.

Nay, he would do it without magic and succeed.

He had no other choice.

 

I
t was nightfall before they reached the barn Sarah had indicated. They sent the company on to make camp, then stopped on the pretext of needing a bit of horse liniment. Ruith chatted with the farmer as Sarah looked at things no one else could see. The expression on her face was difficult to watch. He would have given anything to have spared her the fear that was plain in her eyes, but he could do nothing for her save hold her when her task was through. If he knew nothing else, he knew that there were some things that one could only do alone.

She walked into the barn behind the farmer, then paused in front of a tack trunk pushed up against the wall. She looked at the farmer and smiled. It was more of a grimace, which the farmer seemed to notice right off.

“Are ye ill, miss?” he asked, a worried frown on his brow.

“Nay,” she croaked. “I’m finding myself ... ah ...
called,
if you will, by a collection of, er, spells—”

The farmer’s face brightened immediately. “Ah, a witch’s get, are you?”

“Um—”

“My best draft horse fell lame yesterday,” the farmer said promptly. “Rock in his hoof and now he won’t put weight on it. Don’t suppose you’d want to fix that, would you?”

Ruith was impressed by her ability to master the panic he could see flash in her eyes.

“My powers are unpredictable so far from home,” she said quickly, “so I wouldn’t dare promise anything. In case it went awry, of course. But if I could just have a wee look inside your trunk just the same?”

The farmer frowned. “Then I don’t know, missy.”

Ruith held up two pieces of gold behind Sarah’s back, which the farmer immediately saw.

“Look away,” the man said, taking and pocketing the gold with alacrity. “The trunk isn’t mine, actually. My brother bought it from another lad clearing out and moving south. Makes a handy seat for a bit of ale in the afternoons, but I’ve never looked through the gear inside. Mind if I watch?”

“Of course not,” Ruith said, though he imagined Sarah did. He watched her hands shake as she opened the lid. He caught that lid before it fell back down on her fingers, then made a great production of moving things about to give her time to catch her breath.

“Where?” he murmured.

“On the left,” she managed. “In that rolled leather cover.”

He pulled aside layers of rags and cracked leather halters and reins to reveal just what she’d said would be there. He took out the rolled-up sheaves, then untied the leather strands that held them together. And there in his hand he held the unthinkable.

A scorched but imminently legible copy of his father’s spell of Shapechanging.

“Roll it up,” Sarah said harshly. “Before it burns my eyes to cinders.”

He did so, startled. He turned to the farmer and made him a low bow. “Many thanks, good sir. This is precious to my lady here. I’m sorry we can’t do anything for your horse.”

“Horses,” the farmer corrected. “I’ve a mare just foaled who isn’t doing well. Even if your lady could just try, I’d be much obliged.”

Sarah looked as if she would have been much obliged to have shaken the farmer’s hand and bolted, but she seemingly suppressed the impulse. Ruith considered, but not overlong. He took a deep breath, then silently uncapped his magic. He was more prepared than he had been the last time, but still he stumbled as it rushed back through him. He caught himself heavily against a stall, then felt Sarah’s arm go round his waist immediately.

“Are you unwell?”

He shook his head. “Nay, just hungry. I don’t think I want to stay for pleasantries.”

“I certainly don’t,” she muttered under her breath. “I don’t think I can heal his animals.”

“They don’t look like they need it,” Ruith said. “We’ll give them a pat and be on our way.”

“You did pay him, I suppose.”

He would have agreed with her on that, but he was too busy trying not to be crushed by what he’d managed so easily at the age of ten. Obviously, he’d become soft in his dotage.

He had also obviously lost any finesse he’d once possessed. He healed those two horses on his way out of the barn, thoroughly and hastily. He supposed the beasts were grateful, but not overly. The mare snorted at him in disgust and the draft horse tried to bite him.

Nothing more than he deserved, no doubt.

He gathered up every last drop of what he had and shoved it back down into the center of himself before he could think about it, or spare the effort to realize how quickly he’d become accustomed to even that small, unruly bit of his birthright leaping and tripping through his veins.

“You look terrible.”

Ruith put his arm around her shoulders because he had to. “I feel terrible.”

He listened to her thank the farmer again for the look in his trunk and apologize for healing spells seemingly unexecuted. Ruith could only concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other until they reached their own horses. He managed to get himself into his saddle without causing his mount undue discomfort, then held down his hand for Sarah. She looked up at him in surprise.

“What?”

“Ride with me,” he said hoarsely. “I need aid.”

She put her foot on his, then swung up behind him and put her arms around his waist. “I think you need less aid than you do coddling. Or is it all just a nefarious plot to grope me whilst I’m otherwise engaged in the all-consuming task of keeping you from falling off your horse?”