Stone's Kiss (12 page)

“Yes.”

“And with your help I escaped to this realm and the Riven followed us here? If I hadn’t gotten captured, none of this would have happened. That makes this mess my fault. It’s up to me to make it right. You said the Lady of Battles wanted my power. If I have power, it must be good for something. What can I do to force the Riven back to their prison?”

“You claim responsibility that is not yours to take. You were a child, innocent of any wrongdoing. Before you think to challenge the Riven, you must first be trained in your magic.” Panic weighed heavy in Gregory’s stomach. If she started to probe for her magic, there was no telling what would happen.

Until he had time to discover what had happened to her in the Black Kingdom, he couldn’t trust her, no matter how much his heart wanted to.

“Then tell me what I need to know. Teach me.”

“You make it sound so easy. There is so much you must learn. I scarcely know enough of your words to explain in a way you’ll understand.” He sighed, his brows drawing together in thought. What was safe to tell her? He rubbed at his forehead, mildly surprised when he didn’t encounter horns. Already this hybrid body was beginning to feel ordinary. Natural—like the tenderness he felt for his lady. And that was the danger.

There was so much
he
didn’t know.

For now, a half–truth would have to do. “Think of Realms as worlds within worlds. The smallest, centermost one, is the Mortal Realm, where we are now. The one surrounding it is the now–segmented Magic Realm, where the Twins were banished. The last and greatest, the Spirit Realm, surrounds the others. All the Realms are protected and separated by the Veil—a great weaving of magic composted of all the elements. As I said before, when I came to the Mortal Realm, I damaged a small section of the Veil separating the two realms. Something from the Magic Realm may have followed us here.”

“Is the Veil repairable?” Lillian questioned. “Can I send the Riven back to the Black Kingdom and seal them there?”

He hesitated while he chose the next fragments of truth he hoped would satisfy Lillian’s curiosity. “Depending on how many of these Riven are here and how strong they have grown, I might require help to kill them or banish them to the Black Kingdom. Once the enemy is defeated, I can seal the tear which permitted their invasion in the first place. But all of the Riven must be routed from this land or they may be able to reopen the rift.”

“How do you know all this?” Lillian asked. “You’re less than a week old.”

“Like all gargoyles born of a dryad mother, I carry many of her memories with me—absorbed alone with the food and water while I was a part of her tree. And as I’ve said before, I have memories from my other lives, more awake each day.”

“Right.”

Lillian’s word was one of agreement but her tone and the set of her shoulders said otherwise. Sighing out a deep breath, he wondered if he’d even understand his lady in this lifetime. She was so different in her speech and her manner.

“Why do you remember all this and I don’t? What happened to my memories if it wasn’t a drowning accident?”

His stomach contracted into a tight knot. “You were not strong enough to travel through the Veil. You were damaged.” His words sounded rushed to his own ears.
Merciful Divine Ones, please don’t let her guess, not yet.

“You did mention the Veil before,” she said, her eyes thoughtful, “Will I heal in time?”

“I believe so.”
Please, don’t let that be another lie.

“In the meantime, what are we going to do about these Riven? And why this Realm? You call it the Mortal Realm, like it’s the poor cousin. What benefits would they gain by coming here?”

Gregory nodded his head, pleased she’d asked a question he could answer without lying to her. “Here they have the freedom to gather both strength and numbers, free from the Lady of Battles’ notice.”

“They’re planning to set up their own dictatorship. Lovely.”

“Yes, I fear that is so. However, I have more immediate concerns,” Gregory rumbled as he looked at her anew. She was coping to her new situation remarkably well. It was time to test her magic to see if he could detect any taint upon it. “Your hamadryad—your tree,” he explained, when he saw the look of confusion on her face, “was wounded during the attack and I didn’t have the strength to heal both the tree and you. I placed a weaving over the injuries to protect against further damage, but the wounds need tending. I would appreciate it if one of the dryads would guide you in learning a dryad’s magic.” He pointedly focused on Sable. “I can supply strength and my blood if needed, but the actual act of healing isn’t one of my greater skills.”

“I would be honored.” Sable bowed, and then straightening, she glided up next to Lillian. “Come, little sister. I will direct you in the use of a dryad’s power.”

Lillian glanced back at him questioningly, but Sable tugged on her arm and dragged her in the direction of the back door. He tracked the pleasant sway of his lady’s hips as she descended the stairs. Alone now, shadows curled around his body, hiding him as he summoned his gargoyle form. When he had his familiar shape back, he dropped to all fours and followed the lingering scent of dryad.

****

Hot, humid air hinted at the chance of an evening thundershower. Gregory hoped for one. Perhaps it would wash away some of the stink. He wrinkled his muzzle in distaste. The mixed odors of slaughter, old death, and burnt flesh hung over the grove. If they managed to awaken Lillian’s dryad magic, it might help purify the grove. Her natural dryad magic wasn’t linked to her powers as the Sorceress, so it should be safe for Lillian to summon without triggering any trap left by the Lady of Battles. He hoped.

Shadows cast by the maze’s west wall stretched across the glade as the sun eased closer to the horizon. A slash of white glowed among the darkness. As it came closer, the pale shape glided between the slender trunks of the trees, weaving and bucking in his joyous frenzy. Had the unicorn kept his antics up all day? Probably.

Gregory had eaten rabbits with more intelligence.

The stallion bolted straight toward Gregory. He wished the unicorn’s natural power wasn’t to see past deception. Dirt and bits of grass bombarded him as the unicorn skidded to a halt within arm’s reach. Gregory’s displeasure increased when the unicorn pranced over to Lillian with his neck arched and tail sailing like a banner in the wind. The unicorn bobbed his head and rubbed his muzzle against the dryad. Lillian laughed and stroked the unicorn’s nose, and then moved up to scratch the base of his spiral horn.

Gregory directed his thoughts at the stallion.
“Have you forgotten it was a woman who tempted you into taking human form and caused your … predicament?”

“I have not forgotten.”
The unicorn rolled an eye in Gregory’s direction.
“But she’s very pretty and she smells delicious.”

“And you look and smell like food, too.”
Gregory warned.

“Predators are all the same, but you’re worse than most. Do you even know what a sense of humor is?”

“No.”

The unicorn inched away from Lillian.

Content, Gregory returned his attention to Sable. She and Lillian had come to a stop at the base of the hamadryad. Sable began the first lesson, unaware of what went on between gargoyle and unicorn.

“Feel your tree,” Sable was saying, “her life force humming under your hands. She is the source of your power and your strength. From her you draw life. Without her there is only death.”

Lillian glanced back at him and then beyond the arch of his wing to the remains of the shattered stone circle. She paled. But a moment later, she straightened her shoulders and placed her hands on her tree in a decisive move.

Pride swelled in his heart. His lady was strong. The Sorceress always had been—but this lifetime he had worried she would not be strong enough. For once he was happy to be proven wrong.

Lillian leaned forward until her forehead rested on the rough bark of the tree, scant inches beneath the lower of the two long slashes. The blue lattice of his weaving still glowed in the shade cast by the upper canopy.

“Even though she doesn’t know the first thing about being a dryad, she has the nicest hamadryad I’ve ever seen.” Kayla appeared at Gregory’s shoulder, standing so close she might as well have leaned against him.

Taking a step in Lillian’s direction didn’t get his point across and Kayla shadowed his move, coming along side him again. Gregory cleared his throat. “My lady has many skills.”

“The way you say ‘lady’ makes it sound intimate, yet she isn’t your lover, is she? Don’t try to lie to me; I’ve seen how she looks at you, and it isn’t lover–like.”

“We’ve know each other a very long time. I use it as a mark of respect. I don’t suppose
you
know anything about that.”

Kayla had been studying the Redwood, but snapped her head in his direction. “I’ve insulted you.” Her eyes narrowed. “Or perhaps ‘upset’ is a better word.” She leaned forward, eager as a hound to the hunt. “She might not desire you, but you desire her, don’t you?”

Gregory squashed the urge to groan. Once again he’d revealed more than he wanted. There was no point lying to her. Perhaps she’d leave him alone if she thought he had already made his choice of mate. “Yes, what gargoyle would not?” He hoped she’d believe the simple truth and deem there was nothing else to it.

She studied him an instant more and then turned back to watch what was unraveling at Lillian’s tree.

“Do you feel it?” Sable asked her student.

Lillian nodded her head. “Yes, it’s … it’s so much, such strength. Why did I not know of this before?”

“I’d ask your gargoyle that question, were I you. Perhaps because you didn’t know your true nature, you had no idea this was even possible, so didn’t try.” Sable gestured at the hamadryad. “Now direct some of the power you feel into the Redwood. Visualize the wounds. Imagine all signs of dirt and disease pushed from those wounds. Good. Now envision the wound knitting together, the edges closing, the bark intact once again.” Sable patted Lillian on the shoulder. “Excellent, young one. It comes so naturally to you. It will not be long until you are truly a dryad in all ways—
what are you doing?
”

The startled edge to Sable’s tone jolted Gregory into action. Power raised the hair at the back of his neck and tingled in his lungs as he drew another hasty breath. This was not a dryad’s weaving. This was energy drawn from the Magic Realm—an act of power as the Sorceress, not just a dryad. He rushed to Lillian’s side and placed a hand on her shoulder. When she turned to him with power bright in her eyes, he knew how dangerous the situation had grown while he’d been distracted by Kayla’s probing. Power bled from Lillian. It bubbled up from the Magic Realm, flowing across the land like a spring–fed brook, Lillian its headwater. The current caught at his wings, tugging at them.

“What are you doing, my lady? You have healed your hamadryad and using more magic now might be too taxing.” He spun another web of half–truths, not caring if she figured out later she had been lied to. If he didn’t stop this now, she might draw power directly from the Spirit Realm.

“I don’t feel tired at all. This is wonderful … I can feel the evil shriveling and dying all around the meadow. It’s magnificent. Look,” she said as she point toward where the stone circle lay shattered. Magic shimmered along her arms, barely visible, like heat waves in the desert. “I can fix it and make it stronger, watch.”

Sable took one look at Lillian’s arms and took several steps back. With shock replacing her normally serene expression, the older dryad’s gaze followed where Lillian pointed. Gregory held his breath.

Fragments of stone rose up from the grass as Lillian returned the shattered stones back to their proper places. Stone pillars formed out of the rubble. Not a stone ring or piece of gravel was out of place or showed even a hint of damage where her magic touched. Power continued building. She’d said she could make it stronger. No doubt she could, but not with the supplies she had at her call here. She needed additional materials and better–quality stone if she wanted to create a more powerful ward.

Small tremors under his feet warned him he needed to stop this now. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, subtly absorbing the power she’d summoned before it could cause an unbalance in the natural world. “Enough. Listen to me. You’re not yet ready for this.”

“But I’m doing it. Look, it’s wonderful.”

“You don’t have what you need to make the circle stronger—if you try to force extra power into those stones, the circle will erupt like it did when the Riven attacked you.”

“I can control this. I know I can.”

He shook her. “Do you want to be responsible for the deaths of Sable and Kayla?”

His meaning must have penetrated her power–drugged mind. She froze, and then paled. “I wouldn’t harm you or the others. I’d stop before the stones became stressed.”

“How would you know when they reached that point?”

“I …” Her shoulders hunched and the vast flow of magic dwindled. “You’re right. What am I doing?”

He held her until the trickle of power died away. Magic strained under his skin, filling him to the point of pain. A neigh from behind him had never been so welcome. A moment later the unicorn started siphoning power. When the magic was a more manageable presence, Gregory looked over his shoulder and inclined his head in thanks. The unicorn echoed the motion, and then with a spray of grass and clumps of mud, the stallion bound off into the shadows of the grove.

“I’m sorry.” Lillian’s voice broke. She swallowed and tried again. “That was stupid, so stupid. But it felt natural, so right. Forgive me. I’ll always listen in the future.”

Gregory snorted with humor. “You’re forgiven. Thought I doubt you’ll obey that last oath. You’ve never been very good at listening.”

She didn’t rise to his baiting. Her thoughts were too guilt ridden, and he worried for her. If he released the block he’d put on her memories, all the knowledge and skills she’d learned in her past lives would return, and she could wield her magic safely. But the memory of what the Lady of Battles had done would return as well. Gregory couldn’t risk it. He wanted his Sorceress restored in a way that ate at his resolve, but it would have to wait for now. The healing of her hamadryad hadn’t confirmed anything. While he hadn’t detected any evil taint on her magic, she’d acted in a dangerous manner and that was something the Sorceress would never do. But Lillian had no memories of being the Sorceress; instead, she’d reacted like a child with a new toy. Her loss of control could have been an accident due to inexperience. Or it could have been the Lady of Battles’ influence.