Heart's Magic (37 page)

Unless she used her magical skills to change
fate.

She was out of breath when she reached the
top of the stairs and stepped from the gatehouse tower onto the
battlements, but her breathlessness was not the result of fear.
With firm and steady tread she moved to where Gavin stood, just a
few feet away from Mauger. Suddenly, Minn was with her, a small
grey shadow at her side.

“I told you to stay below,” Gavin said to
her.

“You should know by now that I do not often
follow the orders of men,” she told him. “You need me here.
Defeating Mauger will require more than a sword. You will want
magic.”

“Your magic is not strong enough to destroy
me.” Mauger laughed at her. Never had the watchman seemed so large
and burly to Mirielle. Or so wicked.

“Alda’s faithful henchman,” Gavin said, not
hiding his contempt.

“Not her henchman. Her master. Her first
lover.” Mauger threw the words at Gavin with a sneer. “She did not
go to your marriage bed a virgin.”

“I know,” Gavin said.

“In my absence from her bed she consoled
herself with Brice before and after you were wed. The female brat
that Alda bore is of his getting, not yours.”

“I know that, too.” Gavin’s voice remained
calm.

Mauger looked surprised. Mirielle thought he
was trying to goad Gavin into attacking with his sword. She decided
the time had come to distract Mauger from Gavin.

“We know about the lines,” she said to
Mauger. “And we know that Alda planned to use the power in the
lines to hold the castle for herself. What we do not know and are
curious about is your part in this scheme, Mauger.”

“Mine was the greater part.” Mauger appeared
to grow in size as he spoke and Mirielle was reminded again of the
scene in her crystal.

“Who are you, Mauger?” Mirielle cried. “Why
are you here? What do you want of us?”

“I am—CHAOS.” Mauger’s voice boomed forth,
resonating with an unnatural quality. “I come to destroy the peace
of the earth. Unlike Alda, I do not need the lines to increase my
power. Torture, murder, destruction, disease and rape are my
delight.”

“Evil incarnate,” Gavin muttered. “This is
the devil’s own spawn.”

“I heard that.” Mauger lifted one finger and
Gavin went down, writhing in pain.

Mirielle did not waste her vital energy in
words. Instead, she constructed a net around Mauger as she had done
around Alda.

Again Mauger lifted a finger, pointing at
her. With a loud sizzling noise the net vanished. Try as she might,
Mirielle could not restore it. Beside her, Minn yowled.

Mauger’s finger moved. Pain lanced through
Mirielle, taking her breath away. She was on her knees, but she was
not finished. She began to gather her strength and to concentrate
it.

“What a pity,” Mauger said to her. “What a
bore. I had hoped that, when our final meeting occurred, you would
prove to be a greater and far more interesting challenge. You have
been wasting your days with herbal preparations, Mirielle, when you
should have been studying a deeper, darker magic. A stronger magic,
like mine.

“Now, behold the power that might have been
yours if you were not so timid about risking your soul,” Mauger
went on. “Watch what I can do.”

Mirielle saw Mauger lift his head and sensed
that he was going to turn the full force of his dark power against
Gavin. Mauger would not kill her first, he would kill Gavin, so he
could watch and draw strength from her grief. He would take great
pleasure in seeing her weep. What he might do to her before he
killed her, she did not want to think. But it would not matter to
her, not if Gavin were dead.

Knowing she had only an instant in which to
react, Mirielle threw at Mauger all the power at her command. She
imagined an arrow winging its way straight to his black heart. She
heard the invisible arrow whistle through the air and sensed the
feathers on its shaft though she saw them only in her mind. She
heard the sound as the arrow struck Mauger in the chest.

He reeled backward, staggering. With a roar
of rage he straightened, lifted both arms, and moved toward
Mirielle. With a glow of white-hot, righteous anger, she resisted
his advance. They struggled there on the battlements in a state of
precarious balance, with Mirielle still on her knees, fighting with
every skill she possessed, with every bit of strength in her body
and soul, every drop of love in her heart. Mauger hovered above
her, arms raised like the wings of some huge bird of prey about to
swoop down on its victim.

A tiny corner of her mind that was not
completely occupied in fighting Mauger was reaching out to Gavin.
Mirielle was aware of her love struggling to his feet, sword still
in his hand. Gavin swung the sword at Mauger, connecting with the
mage’s undefended left side. A black, viscous substance welled and
bubbled around the spot where Gavin’s sword had bitten into
Mauger’s flesh.

Mauger howled with rage and pain. Lightning
flashed along the blade of Gavin’s sword. The blade disappeared,
leaving Gavin holding only the empty hilt. He threw it at
Mauger.

Reaching out one hand, Mauger grabbed Gavin
by the wrist.

“No!” Mirielle was on her feet. Step by slow,
difficult step she approached Mauger, fighting the invisible
protective shield he was using to keep her away. “Let Gavin go!
Release him!”

Mauger only laughed. Gavin continued to
wrestle against the mage’s greater strength, but he could not free
his arm.

Mirielle realized with an icy sensation at
her heart that the only way to save Gavin was to kill Mauger. This
was not the use to which she wanted to put her magic. She had never
hurt another person. The skills she had learned from Hugh were
intended to be used for good. Still, it took her less than a single
heartbeat to make her decision. If she did not stop Mauger at once,
Gavin would surely die and Mauger would go on to destroy the
castle. Besting Mauger would take all the magic Mirielle knew and
she was not sure she could do it, but she was going to try. She
kept moving toward Mauger, pacing steadily forward, focusing all of
her waning strength on him and on the shield that her from getting
too close. Minn, hissing and spitting, moved with her.

Mauger stepped back one pace.

Elated, Mirielle took another step toward
him. And another.

Mauger dropped Gavin’s arm.

Mirielle kept walking toward Mauger, knowing
he was now free to turn all of his force on her. But she was glad
of this, for Mauger could not harm Gavin while he was concentrating
on trying to hurt Mirielle. And he was hurting her. Mirielle’s
chest ached with the effort to draw breath. Her arms and legs felt
as if they were weighted with lead.

Suddenly, a small, round object flew past
Mirielle’s ear, to land just in front of Mauger. On impact with the
stonework the object exploded with a flash of light, a loud noise,
and scattering of a black, powdery substance. Mirielle recognized
the stench of rotten eggs.

She became aware that more people had
appeared on the battlements. Suddenly, someone stood beside her,
staff in hand, joining magic to magic.

Hugh! She could not speak his name aloud. It
was all she could do to hold Mauger in one place. But now Hugh was
helping and he was stronger than she, his energies unsapped by the
contest Mirielle had fought.

“Brice opened the wicket gate for us,” Hugh
said, “and Ewain led us to you. I see we were just in time.”

We? As if she had asked aloud the question
that was in her mind, a youthful voice responded.

“It’s Warrick, Lady Mirielle. With you and my
father in danger, I could not let Master Hugh come alone. It’s time
for me to begin using the lessons Hugh has taught me.”

Though she could not turn to look at them,
Mirielle was aware that Brice and Ewain had come onto the
battlements with Hugh and Warrick, to stand a little behind the
three who had magical abilities. And now, with Hugh’s help and
backed by Warrick’s newfound abilities, Mirielle rewove the net
around Mauger, confining him. The dark mage shrieked his fury, then
went perfectly still.

“When he falls silent, take care,” Hugh
cautioned, raising his staff to ward off the expected impact of
Mauger’s dark magic. “He hasn’t finished with us yet.”

The attack came in Mirielle’s mind. She
thought her head would split open from the ice-cold blade that
slashed across her thoughts, breaking her concentration on the net.
She heard Hugh and Warrick cry out in pain, heard Gavin’s shout,
and someone else—was it Ewain or her cousin Brice?—yelled a curse
on Mauger in a hoarse voice.

The net was gone. Mauger had vanished. In his
place was a large black raven with flaming wings and fire pouring
from its beak. Mirielle could feel the heat but she could do
nothing to protect herself or Gavin, for the icy knife was still in
her mind, driving the very life from her.

The fiery wings flapped, lifting the bird
above the battlements. Minn howled in agony. The bird’s head moved,
its eyes focusing on the cat.

“Damn you, Mauger, you won’t get away! Not
after all the trouble you’ve caused.” With sword in hand Brice
dashed forward to slash at the hovering bird. His blade connected
with a wing. For the second time lightning flashed and a sword
blade disappeared in the glare. Brice fell, screaming at the pain
in his badly burned hand.

Mirielle remained immobilized. Hugh and
Warrick also stood unmoving, held where they were by Mauger’s dark
strength.

It was Ewain who rushed past Mirielle and her
fallen comrades—Ewain, the one person unaffected by Mauger’s magic,
who threw the only weapon he had, his blacksmith’s hammer, at the
fiery raven. The hammer flew through the air and hit the bird
square in the chest. The instant the hammer touched the raven, both
bird and hammer exploded into fire, burning in midair.

A rain of dark ashes fell upon the stone
walkway of the battlement. The charred remnants of the blacksmith’s
hammer clattered down on top of the ashes.

The knife was gone from Mirielle’s mind. Too
weak to stand, she slumped onto the stones. Gavin, apparently
unable to stand, either, crawled to her and put his arms around
her. Nearby, Warrick stretched upon the stones, taking in gulps of
air. Brice moaned softly, clutching his injured hand to his chest.
Minn lay on her side her green eyes wide open.

“Mauger is gone,” said Hugh. He and Ewain
were the only ones left on their feet, and Hugh was leaning heavily
on Ewain’s brawny arm. “Well done, my friends, and thank you all.
That dark mage will trouble us no more.”

Those were the last words Mirielle heard
before she fell against Gavin’s chest in a deep swoon.

Hope is the first and last breath of
life.

Soren Kierkegaard

Mirielle awakened slowly to unfamiliar
sunlight streaming through windows on which the shutters had been
thrown back. A breath of warm air touched her cheek. She lay
quietly, letting the mists of sleep dissipate from her mind and
trying to think what change had occurred to make her feel so
light-hearted and peaceful.

“Meow?” Minn jumped onto her chest,
purring.

The bed was much too wide and its curtains
were green, not blue, as they ought to be. Furthermore, Mirielle
realized, there was someone in bed with her, someone who made a
sleepy noise and reached out a well-muscled arm to brush aside
Minn’s overly inquisitive nose.

“Gavin?” Mirielle sat up, the motion making
Minn pause in her curious inspection of the man to regard her
mistress out of wide green eyes. “This is the lord’s chamber. Minn,
what are you doing here?”

“She refused to leave you,” Gavin said,
yawning. “When she began to howl outside the door and to leap upon
the wood and scratch it, Hugh suggested that I allow her to spend
the night. She has been sleeping on the floor beside you ever
since.”

“Indeed, my lord? And why, may I ask you, am
I in your bedchamber where, I assume, you also have been sleeping
beside me all night?”

“I carried you here,” he said.

“You could have taken me to my own room.”

“I did not want to be separated from you and
your chamber is much too small for two. This room is far more
comfortable.”

“You do realize that by your act you have
ruined my reputation?”

“I know a simple remedy for that problem.” He
caught her hand, carrying it to his lips.

“As my guardian, Brice will feel honor-bound
to challenge you,” she noted before he could explain what his
remedy was.

“Brice is not likely to hold a sword again
for a long time, if ever,” Gavin told her. “Not after the injury he
suffered for lifting his blade against Mauger. Hugh has done the
best he can to repair those terrible burns and he says the hand
will heal in time, but whether Brice’s fingers will recover the
strength to grip a sword is doubtful. At the moment, your cousin’s
right hand and wrist are so thickly bound in strips of clean linen
that he cannot use the hand at all. So, I believe my life is safe
enough. I would say that, deed for deed, Brice and I are even,”
Gavin finished with a look that made Mirielle blush.

“The battle.” Memory flooded back. “It was
Mauger—Mauger all the time. Oh, Gavin, is he really gone?”

“You and Hugh vanquished him.”

“And Warrick. Your son did his part. Not to
mention Ewain’s final, mighty blow. It took all of us to destroy
that wicked mage.” Without warning Mirielle began to shake. Before
her eyes the scene on the battlements replayed itself and she saw
again the dark clouds, with Mauger’s darker figure against the sky,
menacing and certain of his superior power. She could feel once
more the pain Mauger had inflicted on her own mind and body during
their battle and the strength slowly leaking out of her as she
tried to contain the evil mage.