Magic In The Storm (40 page)

“I’m sorry,” Morgan began, but his brother
interrupted him. “No, no, it’s quite all right. I don’t mind. I
mean, it wasn’t a bad suggestion. It was what I had wanted to do
anyway, but still...” A note of awe crept into his voice. “Still,
I’m impressed. You truly have become quite powerful, but can you
truly stop Mother?” he asked.

“I have before, and I can do so again,”
Morgan reassured him once again.

Vallentyn looked up at him, clearly lost in
indecision for a moment. Finally, he got up and went to the table
that held their drinks. He opened a drawer and pulled out a piece
of paper, a pen and ink and sat down again.

Using the small side table next to his chair
as a desk, he began to write.

“This is a note to the steward at Stoneside,
and I’ll write another to my solicitor informing him of what I’m
doing.” He stopped speaking so as to concentrate on his letter.

Morgan finished his drink as he sat quietly
while his brother wrote. When the letter was finished, Vallentyn
folded it and handed it to Morgan.

“If you give this to Mr. Black, he is the
steward there, he will teach you all you need to know about running
the estate. It’s not so very difficult. I’m sure you’ll pick it up
quickly.”

Morgan took the note and asked, “So, I’m to
run the estate for you? This Mr. Black won’t be upset that I’m
taking over his position?”

“What? No, oh, no!” Vallentyn began to laugh.
“You’re not taking over Black’s position. He’ll stay on, unless
you’d like to replace him with your own man, of course. No, the
estate is yours.”

“Mine? The entire thing? You’re just giving
an estate to me?” Morgan was shocked.

“No. It is yours. It has been ever since our
father died. I’ve just been caring for it since, well, you were
only five at the time, and then there was all that nastiness with
Mother. When you were old enough she had you confined to the forest
and well... But I’m sure you’ll find everything in order. The money
the estate earned has been kept in a separate account for you—aside
from what was needed to keep the estate running, you know, maintain
the house and a skeleton staff. Everything’s on the up and up, I
assure you.”

Morgan swallowed hard. “I own an estate? I
have money in an account?” he repeated, dumbfounded. “A house and
staff?”

“Yes, of course. What, you didn’t think our
father would leave you destitute, did you? He knew Mother would
never allow you to enter the army or the church. The estate has
been well taken care of for you. It doesn’t earn an enormous
living, but you won’t starve, and you’ll have a good roof over your
head, and one that won’t leak, I promise you.”

“I don’t know what to say. This is much more
than I expected,” Morgan finally said, as all this began to sink
in.

“Well, don’t thank me. It’s Father who
provided for you.”

“Yes. Well, thank you for taking care of it
for me.”

“Oh, no problem. No problem at all. Quite
enjoy it, actually. If you need any help, don’t hesitate to
ask.”

“Thank you.” Morgan stood to go, the letter
still clutched in his hand. But then he stopped, and turned back.
He gave an embarrassed little laugh, then asked, “Er, where is the
estate?”

“What? Oh!” Jonathan laughed. “It’s near
Stonehenge, in Wiltshire.”

<><><>

With his brother’s letter tucked safely in
his pocket, Morgan had one more important call he needed to make.
He knew that now was the right time to face his mother.

He had no concerns about Adriana, he knew
that she loved him and there was now nothing to stop him from
taking her away from this horrendous life that she was living. He
had the wherewithal to care for her as she should be, and the
determination to force Lord Devaux to allow her to marry him.

He had tried every avenue to find the answer
to where his powers had come from, and what his destiny was going
to be. But there was still that one thing that had been missing
when he’d let himself be enthralled by Adriana’s painting. There
was something he needed that only he could get—but what was it?

All roads seemed to lead him to his mother.
She was the only one who knew the answers he needed. And so he
followed that path and walked through the city to Vallentyn
House.

Somehow his mother wasn’t surprised to see
him. In fact, she was practically purring when he was shown into
the drawing room. She sat back like a satisfied cat after a big
meal and practically licked her lips. “Morgan, I was wondering when
you’d come by.”

“Good afternoon, Mother,” Morgan bowed
formally.

She extended her arm, indicating that he be
seated.

As he settled himself in the chair across
from her, she said, “So, you’ve finally given up, have you? I knew
it was only a matter of time before you realized that there was
nothing for you here. When do you leave for Vallentyn?”

Morgan was silent for a moment wondering if
he should let his mother continue on in her beautiful daydream. But
no, that would be cruel, better to get right to the point, he
decided.

He sat forward and gave his mother smile. “I
am sorry to disappoint you, Mother. But I’m not here to tell you
that I’m returning to Vallentyn. Quite the opposite. I’m looking
forward to joining you at Stonehenge on the summer solstice.”

Lady Vallentyn’s face lost all trace of
emotion for a moment, before it turned dark. “Who told you?” she
hissed.

“No one needed to tell me. I know.” It was a
lie, but he wasn’t about to tell his mother about Adriana’s
painting. “Now, I want to know what I need to attain my destiny.”
He inlaid strong magic into his voice. He was certain that she
wouldn’t tell him unless she were compelled to do so. He just
didn’t know how much magic would be necessary to get her to do what
he wanted.

His mother’s eyes widened as she realized
what he was doing. “Don’t even try,” she said unpleasantly. “Your
magic wouldn’t work on me anyway.”

“Oh, I’m not too certain of that.”

She brushed his words aside with her hand.
“All I know is that you need your full powers.”

“There is nothing else?”

“Not that I know of,” she said, shrugging her
shoulders as if she didn’t care.

“Oh, come now, Mother, you don’t really
expect me to believe...”

“The knowledge is closed to her,” a voice
said from near the fireplace.

Morgan started. He was on his feet within
seconds, looking for the source of the voice, but there was no one
there. His mother was by his side faster than he had thought she
could move.

“Who said that?” Morgan asked, his eyes
darting everywhere a man could hide.

There was no answer right away.

“The chalice,” his mother whispered.

And indeed, the stone chalice, which always
sat above his mother’s fireplace no matter where she was, was
glowing. Morgan sensed his mother leave the room, but he didn’t
take his eyes from the cup. He wasn’t certain he could.

Drawn to it, he moved closer. Slowly,
carefully he lowered the cup from its special stand above the
mantle.

A jolt of magic shot through his body as he
touched the chalice. He almost dropped it. Never had he experienced
anything like this! The power within the stone was incredible.

His mother was back by his side, panting.
Where ever she had gone, she must have run. She touched his arm so
that he lowered to chalice to a more comfortable height for her,
and then she poured a clear liquid into the cup from a leather wine
skin.

He would have said it was water, but he’d
never smelled any water like this before. It smelled crisp and
clear, like a bright summer’s day. The scent of fresh flowers, and
the sweetness of fruit tickled his senses. It smelled like the most
wonderful place on earth, someplace he’d never been before, and yet
it was home. Yes, the liquid smelled like home—comfortable, happy,
joyous even. Warm and, even when it was dark and rainy, beautiful.
Morgan just closed his eyes and inhaled this lovely, comforting
smell.

When he opened his eyes again, he was looking
down into the chalice and looking back at him was the face of an
old man. Moving his eyes from the length of the man’s white beard,
Morgan saw a happy mouth surrounded by deep creases from too much
smiling. His nose was long and thin and ever so slightly crooked.
His deep blue eyes twinkled with good cheer and something else...
wisdom, Morgan realized after a moment.

“Who are you?” Morgan whispered, not certain
the man could hear him.

“I am Merlin,” the man answered, his voice
sounding hollow as if it was coming through a long tunnel.

“Oh,” Lady Vallentyn breathed. She sounded as
if she was going to cry, but, although her brows were drawn
together, her eyes were clear.

“Merlin?”

“I do hope you have heard of me. I was wizard
to the great king, Arthur, lover to Nimuë, and dear friend to the
high priestess of Avalon after whom you are named, Morgan.”

Morgan’s hands began to tremble with the
enormity of who he was speaking with. It wasn’t possible. It just
wasn’t possible, his mind screamed out to him. The words nearly
left his mouth, but he closed it tight against them. If this was
the famed Merlin, he certainly didn’t want to offend the man.

“How... where...” Morgan stopped. He wasn’t
able to form even a simple question!

Merlin chuckled. “Yes, yes, I’m certain you
are quite shocked, but at least you haven’t dropped the chalice.
When I visited the last Vallen to hold your position, she did.
Nearly broke it too! Thank goodness I made it well.” The old man’s
eyes became mere slits as he laughed.

“Maybe you had better put it down, Morgan,”
his mother said, resting her trembling hand on his arm. She didn’t
seem to be any steadier than he.

He nodded and together they moved to the sofa
where his mother had been sitting earlier. Carefully, Morgan placed
the chalice on the low table in front of them.

“Actually, what I’ve got to say won’t take a
great deal of your time,” Merlin said after they had settled the
cup safely on the table. “You were asking about your destiny,
Morgan.”

“Yes. Do you know what it is? What I need to
attain it?”

“Naturally. I’m not certain if you’d heard,
but I am also a bit of a prophet.” The old man smiled up at them,
but then became serious as his focus toward inward. “Listen
carefully for this is the prophecy which I gave to your ancestor,
Bridget, many, many years ago when she defeated the most powerful,
the Vallen Nimuë. Within it you will find your answers.

The seventh child of the victor’s kin

Will lead the people away from sin

Guide them through the Wind and Fire

Through difficulties cold and dire

The Magic’s seventh child shall keep

The laws intact or penalties they’ll
reap

To the Seventh of Seven shall be
assigned

A task of soul, of will, of mind

To re–empower the world with love

From east to west, below, above

Our work is to move progress along

Seventh of Seven will keep us strong.”

As the voice faded away, so too did Merlin’s
image.

Morgan sat back thinking about this, trying
to make sense of it. He was certain that it would make sense and it
would tell him all that he needed to know. He just needed to think
about and put the pieces together.

What he needed was Adriana.

T
hank you Mrs.
MacAllister,” Adriana said, dismissing the housekeeper.

That would be the end of it. Three menus
chosen for the three dinner parties Lord Devaux would host—which
meant that Adriana would organize them, send out the invitations,
and act as hostess at each. It was a lot of work, but it was what
she did, what he expected of her, what she had always done ever
since she was old enough.

She turned to Henrietta who was writing out
the invitations to the first of the dinner parties. “Henrietta, you
never did tell me what Mr. Vallentyn said when you gave him the
painting.”

Actually, since Henrietta hadn’t volunteered
the information the minute she’d returned, Adriana had been too
nervous to ask. Now, she was desperate enough. She had to know.

But Henrietta was silent, clearly thinking
over her answer. Finally, she took a deep breath, gave Adriana a
nervous little smile and said, “You shouldn’t think about him,
Adriana. He’s not right for you. Why don’t you go to more parties?
There are so many eligible young men out there. You would have so
much fun dancing and flirting. I just don’t see why you avoid all
that.”

Adriana pulled her shawl closer around her
body. “He didn’t say anything?”

Henrietta pursed her lips together and then
shook her head. “Nothing of consequence.”

“Did he even open it? Look at the painting?”
Adriana hated herself, but she had to know.

“He glanced at it and then set it aside,
uninterested.”

“Oh.” She whispered, unable to make her voice
do more than that. The pale world shimmered around her for a moment
until she blinked her eyes clear. Perhaps Henrietta was right.
Perhaps she should go to parties, if Lord Devaux ever allowed her
that privilege.

<><><>

“You do want to continue being Vallen, do you
not?” Tatiana said in her sweetest voice. She didn’t think it would
sit very well with the man who was slouching against the wall next
to her if she used a threatening tone. Jack the Lad wasn’t the type
to be scared or intimidated by anyone. She had to respect that.
What she didn’t like was the dark, dirty ally where she had finally
run him to the ground.

“What do ye want? I know ye’re not going to
just let me go with a rap on my wrist and tell me not to do it
again.”

“I have a job for you and your... cronies,”
she admitted.