Mistweavers 01 - Enchanted No More (23 page)

“Urgh,” said Jenni.

He pressed on her shoulders until she was about the right height. She bit her bottom lip and he tapped it. “Don’t do that, you don’t want to bite through it.”

“No.” She sucked in a breath, thought about breathing through pain and took three steps back.

Fire! Ice! Acid! Jenni’s scream got trapped, her eyes watered. Aric jerked her close and held her. She writhed, not in a good way. One breath in, and, “Uh, uh, uh!” Her knees went out as the fire raced up and down the lines of the web searing her skin. She didn’t fall because Aric’s arms were wrapped around her.

“Use your
magic!
”

More fire on her skin? She didn’t think—

He shook her and her head went back on her neck and she cried out.
“Use your magic!”

She summoned it, hot, hotter, hottest. Maybe hotter than that which ate her skin. Pushed it out, along the tracery she
felt
on her neck.

Relief. She turned her head against Aric’s solid chest and wiped her tears away. Then she just trembled in his more relaxed grip, gulping air. Glad she hadn’t peed herself.

“Shh, shh,” Aric soothed.

More than a minute passed before she felt she could stand on her own two feet. The real pain had subsided, but left a stinging. She could deal with it.

“Let’s take a look,” Aric said.

Jenni’s breath broke on a cracked laugh. “Not like you to be impatient.” Now that his arms weren’t clamped around her, she dug into her left jeans pocket for a nice large handkerchief and wiped her eyes, blew her slightly runny nose.

He let her stand by herself, cupped his hands and a greenish-gold ball of light pulsed into being. “Turn around, lovey, let me look at the pretty tatt.”

Jenni grunted, but did as he said. “Don’t touch it.”

“I won’t.”

“I think it would have been less painful with damn needles.”

“Mmm-hmm. Very beautiful. Tiny lines of silver outlined in red.” He kissed it, but instead of feeling more hurt, the touch of his lips brought balm. He’d put his mouth on the complicated center of the tatt and ease radiated out along the previously aching lines.

“It doesn’t hurt anymore! You helped. Thanks!”

When she turned back, his eyes were dark and serious. “Kisses can be magic. I wondered if one might help, backed by intent….” He paused. “I plan to always help.”

That had her shifting feet, scuffing the thick bed of needles.

“Your turn,” he said lightly.

“What?”

He jutted his chin to several webs strung between trees and began unbuttoning his shirt. “Find a pattern you like for me.”

The odd tension of increased intimacy settled on Jenni. Yes, they were doing this together, and the more adversity they faced as a couple, the more they bonded.
Was
Aric her heart’s desire, or a part of it? Was she being stupid again to fall in love with him? Would he do the same?

She walked away in a hurry, scanning the trees. Now that she’d survived the tatt, she’d use a bit of her magical energy for a lightball. When she called her glow globe into being it was yellow-orange and much brighter than Aric’s had been. Of course, she used fire energy, not plant energy, and the basis of Treefolk light was the luminescence of mosses and mushrooms and the like.

“Pretty light,” Aric said shortly, and she knew he’d tensed, too. He wasn’t looking forward to being marked again, either.

“You don’t have to do this. Certainly not for me.”

“Yes, I do.”

She didn’t know whether he was answering one or both of her statements, but she knew from his attitude that she wouldn’t move him.

“All right.” She could feel the creeping edge of exhaustion, but if he wanted a partner, she wouldn’t disappoint.

Scanning the webs and the trees, she looked for a small spiderweb. An image of one about three inches large by Aric’s shoulder and under his collarbone had come to her as pleasing. She spotted one. Simple, a few lines, and wisps. “There.” She pointed.

His face changed and she wasn’t quick enough to read his expression. “Not this one?” He flicked a hand at a huge drape that would cover his chest.

“I wouldn’t put you through the pain of that!”

“No?”

“Ar-ic.”

“I’m just wondering how you feel about me.”

“I care. And the wondering’s mutual. I wonder how you feel about me,” Jenni said, heart thumping hard.

ARIC ANSWERED, “I CARE, TOO. MORE THAN
I should.”

That eased Jenni’s emotions a little—at least about their relationship. “And I’m sure I don’t want to talk about this. Particularly not now in a deep and gloomy forest at night.”

“You’re sure you don’t want the big spiderweb to mark me?” But his gaze was examining the smaller web she’d chosen, his pecs flexing as if already feeling the sting.

“If the big one would protect you better, then maybe. But we don’t know that, do we?”

“We know very damn little.”

“More than we do,” said a new voice.

Jenni didn’t jump, and neither did Aric, as the guardians walked into the small clearing. Now that she thought on it, she’d sensed the potent magic of the two guardians.

Aric bowed. “Greetings.”

The dwarf snorted. “You don’t have to be courteous. You don’t want us here.”

“Not much,” Aric admitted coolly. “But you’re here for a reason?”

“Yes. The Eight heard of this protection for the dryads against the shadleeches.”

“I told them myself,” Aric said. He glanced around. “Did they send you to check it out?”

“Not quite.” The dwarf’s laugh was the low rumble of settling rock.

The elf bowed to Jenni. “Princess Mistweaver Emberdrake.”

She inclined her torso. These two were completely out of the status game, beyond noble rank. “Greetings.”

“The Eight didn’t ‘quite’ send you here?” Aric pushed the question.

“We go as we please,” the elf said.

Jenni didn’t completely believe that. She figured that what spurred these two were responsibility and curiosity. Good qualities in guardians.

The dwarf went over to a low stump and sat. “Though they do believe halflings tell the truth most of the time, and they’ve seen your skill…” he nodded to Jenni, then looked at Aric “…and should know your magics, Paramon, the Eight sometimes don’t appreciate how important information from and about halflings can be.”

“We do,” the elf said. He made a casual gesture. “They are wrapped up in discussions of the ritual for the bubble event, what they want to do with the energies, how they want to shape the creativity.” He smiled and stopped Jenni’s breath at the beauty of the expression.

“Politics, maneuvering,” the dwarf grunted. He looked around, pulled a face. “Pretty forest but the trees are too big.”

“Thank you,” Aric said.

The elf waved and a good-looking staff appeared in his hands. Jenni thought that it might have even been part of the forest around them, but now appeared polished and just the right size for him. Of course. This was a being who had more magic than any she’d ever met—including Kondrian. Despite the guardian elf’s charming ways, she should remember that.

“We are interested in this shadleech protection.”

“We are interested in any armor against any Dark,” the dwarf said. “Tell us all about it.”

So Aric did and when he was done, the guardians scrutinized his thumb and the back of Jenni’s neck and stared at the spiderwebs around them.

“No idea what the effect of such web-etchings have on Lightfolk, huh?” asked the dwarf.

“Leafswirl didn’t mention any full Lightfolk who have been marked and tempted shadleeches,” Aric said.

“Why are we always the first to try something new?” the dwarf said.

“Because we are.” The elf went up to a web. “I think this tiny one would suit you.” He cut the web with such skill that it suspended from his blade in a complete pattern.

“Huh.” The dwarf stripped off a couple of layers of armor and shirts. He looked at Aric. “Were you going to do this, or not?”

“I am.” Aric smiled. “It hurts.”

“You said that. Both of you.” The dwarf bobbed his head at Jenni. “And it’s a pretty forest with too-big trees and close to the damp ocean in
March
. I’m cold. Let’s do it.” He glanced up at his companion. “And why am I always the one of the two of us who goes first?”

“Because you’re tougher.”

“Huh.”

“And I have a bit of healing.”

“Jenni?” Aric called her attention back to him. His smile was easy, now. He trusted these two.

Well, with all they’d done for her, she trusted them, too. She only wished they’d arrived before she’d had to back into the web herself. She turned to the web she’d chosen for Aric. It had lost a little definition in the middle, but was still beautiful. Linking arms with him, and bringing the lightball closer, she said, “I think we can angle you just so.” She positioned him so that the web would hit the top of his pec under his collarbone, near his shoulder.

“Ready?” she asked.

“Yes,” Aric said. His chest rippled.

“Try not to tense.” Though she knew that was easier said than done.

The elf brought the dangling web toward the dwarf’s hairy shoulder. “Ready?”

“Right. Lay it on me.”

There was a sizzle and a yelp. Dwarven curses.

Aric turned to look at the two and Jenni gave him a little push into his web. His cry of surprise turned into pain and heavy breathing. As soon as she saw the thin silvery lines sink into his skin and leave equally silvery scars, she placed her lips on the design and kissed him.

He sighed, put his hands on her shoulders. “Thank you.” He closed his eyes and his magic rose and traces of blue-green outlined the delicate silver.

“You aren’t doing that to me,” the dwarf said to the elf. He shifted from foot to foot, not quite hopping.

“Summon your own magic to deal with it, then,” the elf said. Then he clapped a hand over his friend’s shoulder and the dwarf shouted—but cut off his yell with a huffing sigh.

“All right. I’m good.” His lips curled as he slanted the elf a glance. “Your turn, and I think you should have a nice line down your manly torso.”

“What?” the elf asked.

“A pattern down your side. Strip.” Stalking away, the dwarf plucked a long web from a branch, whisked it around once so that it doubled and redoubled into a few inches wide.

“Ouch,” Aric said and Jenni kissed his shoulder again. He smiled. “Thanks, but that’s not what I meant.” He nodded to the elf, who stood bare-chested.

“They’re good companions,” she said.

“Partners, but not lovers.”

“No. But such friendship is rare.”

There came a long, hissing sound and the air around Jenni’s ear shuddered with oaths beyond her hearing.

“Kiss me again, Jenni,” Aric said.

She looked up at him and his gaze was quiet, his lips tender, and she knew she’d fallen in love with him. Again. Perhaps had always loved him since her brothers had brought him home and she’d seen him that first evening. Stupid. But she kissed him again.

She sank into the kiss, quietly inhaled his scent that matched the forest, but had an extra little spice that she recognized as his elven nature. His lips were soft and when she opened her mouth and his tongue touched hers, all of her inflamed.

The kiss lasted an eternity of seconds and she thought she saw magic bloom in the darkness of the forest.

Aric broke their embrace. His smile was lopsided and his hand slid from her shoulder to link with her fingers. He turned and they looked at the guardians. The elf and dwarf were studiously watching a white, sparkling spider spin its web and vanish.

“Maybe you should tell your mother about the kiss thing,” Jenni said, trying for lightness.

She saw Aric shift into mental-communication mode, then grin. “She—they—all the dryads know.”

Jenni frowned. “I bet we didn’t get the full story on that butt tatt.”

“Nope,” Aric said as he donned his shirts.

The elf glanced over his shoulder at them. “This forest is well-protected.” Jenni couldn’t see his eyes, but his manner was measuring as he looked at Aric, then his lips curved in a slow smile again, and Jenni was glad it wasn’t aimed at her. “But then, you, Aric Paramon, Treeman, asked for help for the dryads, your mother and this forest, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Aric said.

“And you got it,” the dwarf said. “Looks like a good job.”

The elf chuckled, patted his companion on the shoulder that didn’t carry the tatt. They were both clothed again and Jenni was trying to forget how well they looked without their armor and shirts. Not as good as Aric, but really good.

“And we aren’t as fussed about the next bubble event ’cause we’ve already participated in one,” the dwarf pointed out. This time he made a full bow. “Thanks to you. And we are grateful for that and won’t forget it.” He touched the line of a broken web and didn’t flinch, Jenni couldn’t tell if he felt pain at it or not. “If our wishes are fulfilled like yours, we will be well pleased.”

The elf cocked a brow at Aric. “Though we made sure to phrase our intentions as generally as possible. It didn’t take very long for the sweep of magic from the Yellowstone bubble to make it here.”

Aric didn’t move beside her, but Jenni sensed his discomfort. His chin jutted. “The dryads need help. Some of the drain in magic and power you Lightfolk have felt over the centuries was because of what was done to the Treefolk and the forests.”

“Can’t argue that,” the dwarf said. He’d found a faint track and started walking.

The elf made a sweeping gesture to them to fall in behind the dwarf. Aric tugged on her hand and she reluctantly went with him. “Where—”

“To the most open area to the outside. Now we wait,” he said.

“We wait,” Jenni repeated as dread curled inside her.

“For the shadleeches.” Aric loosened his long knife in its sheath. Neither the dwarf who’d become a barely visible moving shadow ahead of them, nor the elf behind them, made any noise, so it was as if they were alone again. There was no more smile from Aric. His lips had firmed. “I want to make sure you’re protected. We all do.”

“And there’s only one way to find out,” Jenni said.

“Yes.”

She wanted to cling harder to his hand. Her own palm had gone sweaty, but she kept her fingers loose. “I will point out that you now have two tatts.”

His smile showed briefly. “As I said before—if you want another…”

“No, thanks!”

“All right, then.” He dropped her hand to touch her nape and it tingled. She knew she’d always be extra sensitive there. Not something that had occurred to her earlier. Was the back of her neck an erogenous zone? She thought so. It was now, anyway.

Had Aric wanted her tatt to be on an erogenous zone? She should have thought of
that
before, too, and figured out somewhere she could have asked him to do the same. But he was soft inside for her, she could tell. Because she didn’t want him to hurt from a big spiderweb. Fierce and protective on the outside. From the little she knew of warriors, that was the best kind.

Soon they reached the edge of the forest and the moonlight illuminated more paths that appeared to be human-made instead of by wildlife or the dryads. Jenni let her lightball fade.

The dwarf settled in the low crook of a tree, leaning rather than standing. The elf chose another tree, half in shadow, half in moonlight, and seemed to disappear. She was the odd one out in this little adventure, with no forest craft or background. City girl.

Aric reached into his coat and pulled out a dark tarp that he spread between the wide roots of a tree, dropped down onto it and drew Jenni after him. She shouldn’t have been surprised at the cover’s softness, but she was. He leaned back against the tree and spread his legs so she could sit and spoon against him. Lovely.

After a minute, the dwarf said, “Shadleeches.” Jenni thought she heard him spit. “It goes against grain for me to stand here and wait for an attack,” the dwarf said through gritted teeth, as if every word were a curse.

The elf sighed. “It’s not going to be one of those waits, is it? The kind where you talk my ear off?”

The dwarf said something in dwarvish that sounded derogatory.

Aric said, “I don’t think the shadleeches will be put off by our talk. Likely, they’d hone in on us as food.”

“My thought, too,” the dwarf said sourly.

“An elf, a dwarf, a Treeman and a half human, half Lightfolk. A banquet of tastes for the discriminating shad leech,” the elf said.

Jenni muffled a snort.

“What?” asked the elf.

“It just sounded like the beginning of a joke—an elf, a dwarf and a Treeman walk into a bar…”

The dwarf groaned. “Please, don’t encourage him. He has thousands of those jokes, and he accuses
me
of nonstop talking.”

“Jokes, songs…” the elf mused. “Reminds me that I saw your father, Aric, and he sends his greetings.”

Suddenly Aric wasn’t so nice to rest against. Every muscle behind her tensed. “You can give mine back to him.”

The next silence was weighted as if the elf or dwarf intended to say something. Jenni could almost feel the mental communication between them. Finally, the elf said, “You are a man a father should be proud of.”

Aric grunted and no one said anything else.

Soon the animals they’d disrupted with their talking began to move around again and Aric eventually relaxed behind her. Tension crept through Jenni, tightening her nerves. Waiting in the forest for shadleeches to attack was one of the worst things she’d ever done.

She didn’t know what the others were doing, but all of her magical senses were extended to the fullest. She wouldn’t be able to keep that up long, but a twitchy feeling on her neck warned her that the shadleeches were coming. She shifted time and again, and Aric closed his arms around her.

I’ve got you, you’re safe,
he sent her mentally.

He wasn’t even on his feet! Though his sword was right beside her.

Are your tatts tingling?

He stiffened a little, then raised his hand with the spider mark on his index finger. The silver tracery had darkened until it was black.

Lean forward
, Aric said in her mind.

She complied.
Early warning system?
Jenni asked.

Looks like,
Aric agreed.
Your spiderweb is no longer silver and red, but black against your skin.
For an instant he brought her close, held her. Then lifted her and set her on her feet, rose himself.