Dragon's Tongue (The Demon Bound) (39 page)

Vagner dove through the window, circling the chamber with a giddy “Whee!” and fluttered to a landing on the back of Alaric’s chair. “So where are the mice,” he said, bobbing his head up and down. “I could use a bit of sustenance just now.”

“If that thing makes a mess in here,” Fenelon said.

“I’ll clean up after him,” Alaric insisted.

“Damn right you will,” Fenelon said and started for the door.

“Where are you going?” Alaric asked.

“To the books,” Fenelon said. “The sooner we figure out how to break your attachment to that fiend, the sooner we can banish the bloody beast back to the demon realms from which it sprang…”

The slam of the door in his wake sent an echo vibrating on every ear. Alaric sighed.
Horns, what have I done?
he thought, and gave in when Brother Storne’s hands took Alaric’s shoulders and started him towards his bed.

Looking as delighted as an owl could, Vagner began to preen.

FORTY

Vagner was quite pleased with his new captivity. Over the next few days, he had little to do other than eat and sleep. Alaric was a most undemanding master, and the demon felt relieved he was able to relax. There were very few mice to be found inside Eldon Keep, but plenty of game flourished in the forest below. The demon ravenously devoured more than a dozen rabbits a night, plus whatever squirrels, field mice and small birds he could capture. He even ate a newborn lamb. The latter, however, got him into trouble with the Greenfyn who promised a hearty lightning bolt in the demon’s near future if he dared to take another from the farms that lay outside the forest around his keep.

Alaric quickly recovered under Brother Storne’s care to the point of being well enough to dress and wander the grounds, and even practice a little spell casting on the side.

And to sing, much to Vagner’s delight. The demon would gladly forego fresh prey of any sort to hear the young man sing.

Interestingly enough, Vagner thrived on and delighted in the female attention he received. The woman called Etienne was such a dignified beauty, and quite curious enough to want to discuss matters of magic with the demon on a serious level. The younger woman Shona was uneasy at first, but she overcame her fear of the demon, obviously so she could be close to his master. That she was fond of the young man was no secret to Vagner. He sensed her desire to mate with the young bard, a desire she worked hard to keep in check. As did Alaric. Vagner would gladly have suggested that the two of them should go ahead and consummate their need, but both seemed wary of showing any sort of affection in front of Etienne. Too bad, the demon thought. He would rather have liked an opportunity to watch humans mating by mutual consent. If only so he could understand their attraction for one another. He knew the Greenfyn mated regularly with Etienne. Demon ears could hear their passion at night through even the thick stone walls of the keep.

Three nights after becoming an owl, Vagner sat on the high back of a chair before the fire. Young Alaric plucked his psaltery, and would occasionally stop and stretch his hands, looking at the fading scars left by Tane’s torments. The late hour found them alone since the others had long ago retired. Alaric danced a lively tune from the psaltery when he stopped abruptly and held his left hand out so the silver band around his finger glittered in the firelight. The demon’s senses buzzed, and sharp eyes picked up the slight waiver in the young bard’s essence, as though another overlapped it.

“What in the name of Cernunnos…” Alaric muttered and frowned at his hand.

“What’s wrong?” Vagner asked.

“My hand,” Alaric said. “It doesn’t feel like it belongs to me.”

“It is attached to you,” the demon said. “So how could it not be yours?”

“I know that.” Alaric rolled his eyes. “But sometimes, I feel like. Like I don’t really control this body, like I’m not entirely alone.”

“Of course, you’re not alone,” the demon said. “I’m here.”

“I’m not talking about this here,” Alaric said and shook his head. He thumped his own chest. “I’m talking about in here, inside myself. It’s as though sometimes, I’m not alone.”

“Then it must be the other who resides in you now,” the demon said and stretched his wings as though bored with the whole matter.

“What other?” Alaric asked, rising and turning to face the demon.

Vagner hesitated. Perhaps this was something he should have mentioned before? Or not at all? “You…have another’s essence in you,” Vagner said. “You have carried him since that night. I know because when you took my essence, he took it as well. I felt him then. Sometimes, he is very quiet, but other times, I hear him speaking to me through you.”

“Who?” Alaric insisted. “Who is he?”

“The one you spoke to in your dreams,” the demon said. “The one you call Ronan.”

Alaric grew rapidly pale, and he grabbed the arm of the chair and seated himself once more. He closed his eyes, and with a deep breath, he whispered mage words. Vagner could feel the whisper of magic tracing through the air. The demon hunched down small and watched with an air of uncertainty and dread.

I should not have said anything at all,
Vagner thought.

~

The
other
? Alaric slowed his breathing and drew bits of essence to himself. Then as Fenelon had taught him, Alaric began to slowly drift into himself, searching with a mageborn’s inner eye.

Ronan? How could it be? Ronan was dead. Ronan was just a dream…

“Not exactly,” a familiar voice said in a gleeful manner, and the merriment echoed through Alaric, filled with familiar mischief.

“Ronan? How?”

“Well, it’s rather long and complex, Lark,” Ronan said. “It’s a very ancient spell. A rather good one, I might add. Apparently, it works quite well…”

“But, you’re inside me,” Alaric said, and through his mental eye, he saw shadows and light take form. Ronan appeared, dressed in bardic greens.

“What you carry is my spirit essence, and my knowledge,” Ronan said. “It’s quite well known a dead mageborn’s spirit can share flesh with a living one…so long as that living one gives consent. It’s also known a mageborn’s spirit can be bound into an object, allowing them to leave the place where they actually died.”

“The ring you gave Marda…” Alaric said, and his thumb subconsiously twisted it about the finger on which he wore it.

Ronan smiled. “I knew you would figure it out sooner or later. I put a piece of my essence into that ring when I was alive and set a pathway spell on it. I put part of my essence in you as well, hidden behind that wall I built in your head along with the song. Something to give me an anchor when the time came. The rest of my essence, Tane kept trapped in my own hand, the one he cut off that night I died. He used my own bones to trap my spirit. But when you touched that hand, or rather when my ring touched my old bones, it opened the pathway I needed, and all I had to do was follow it while I used my essence in the wall as a focus point so I could break free of Tane’s little prison.”

“Then you
are
inside me?” Alaric asked.

“Yes,” Ronan said and grinned. “Isn’t it grand?”

Alaric sighed. “This isn’t right,” he said. “I want you to leave.”

“I can’t leave,” Ronan said softly. “I’m afraid you are stuck with me, Lark.”

“I don’t like this!” Alaric said. “I don’t want to be stuck with you.”

“It’s a little late for that, I’m afraid.”

“You lied to me. You used me and now…I’m stuck with you forever!”

“Well, only until the time of the Darkening, Alaric. Only until Na’Sgailean rises once more to throw her shadow across the land. It will happen one day, though no one can truly say when…”

“Well, that may not be so far from happening as you think,” Alaric said. “Tane broke that wall. He knows the secret of the Dragon’s Tongue, even if I do not…”

“Not all of it,” Ronan said and shook his head so the dark hair fluttered about his eldritch face. “Tane does not have the key, thanks to me. Who do you think struck Tane out of your mind when he breached the memory wall?”

“You?”

“Exactly,” Ronan said. “Now, we will have stop him. Even without the full secret, he can still set the Dark Mother free, and that is what we must prevent.”

“We?”

“You and I, and your demon…and Fenelon and his friends, but only if Fenelon behaves.”

Alaric shook his head. “I don’t want to be part of this!” he snapped. “I never wanted to be part of it!”

“You have no choice,” Ronan said with a bitter smile. “Besides, look at it this way. With me as your internal guide, your chance of becoming the greatest bard in all Ard-Taebh is increased tenfold. Quite a good thing for you, if you want my opinion.”

Alaric blanched. “Are you telling me the only reason I am a bard is because of having you inside me?” Anger surged. Was his whole life one big lie?

“I did not give you the talent and skill you already possessed, Lark,” Ronan said. “You were meant to be a good bard. I saw that the first day I met you. That’s why I chose you.”

“And how can I believe that? How do I know you’re not lying to me now?”

A brief hint of grief swelled inside Alaric. Ronan looked pained by the accusation. “I’m sorry, Lark. I never meant for you to hate me so. I promise, I will not interfere in your life. I’m part of you now, as translucent as air. Look at me, Lark. You know I speak the truth!”

Alaric sighed. He could feel it, though he was hard pressed to believe it was so.

“All right,” Alaric said slowly. “But we must get one thing perfectly straight.”

“And that is?”

“I am in charge,” Alaric said.

Ronan smiled. “I won’t take that from you unless you relinquish it of your own free will. This flesh belongs to you. I am only here for the ride.”

“And I don’t want you to go chattering in my head all the time,” Alaric said. “The last thing I need is people deciding I have gone insane.”

“I will only speak to you when you speak to me.”

Alaric sighed. “Then you can stay for now,” he said.

“Thank you, Lark,” Ronan said and looked amused. “You won’t regret my company.”

“Just don’t
make
me regret it,” Alaris said.

Ronan smiled again and started to fade. “By the way,” he said. “Tane is not having much success at finding the Dragon’s Tongue just now.”

“Why not?” Alaric asked. “How do you know this?”

“I crippled him when I attacked his mind…” Ronan said, sounding quite pleased. “He had to go into hiding to recover. The life of one measly bandit was not enough to feed his power and give him back his health. And besides, while you’ve been asleep, I’ve been watching…”

Alaric would have asked how Ronan could do that, but the bard’s presence slipped away. Oh, Ronan was still there. Alaric could still feel that essence now as a separate entity from his own.

An ancient spell, and I’m stuck with you for the rest of my life.
Wait until he told Fenelon about that.

~

“This was a dream, right?” Fenelon said at breakfast the next morning, and Etienne could see his disbelief and dismay. Of course, knowing Fenelon, it was probably coupled with jealousy. He was forever coveting ancient spells.

“No, it wasn’t a dream,” Alaric said in a testy fashion. She felt sorry for him. Fenelon’s response would have drowned her enthusiasm too. “I was wide awake. Vagner said he could see the other in me, and when I looked for myself, I could see him too. I’m carrying Ronan’s essence right now, and he’s laughing at you…”

“That’s impossible,” Fenelon said. “I would have noticed.”

“Look, I told you he said it was an ancient spell,” Alaric said.

Fenelon frowned, and his gaze flashed briefly at the demon’s mark on Alaric’s hand. “And how can you be sure Vagner didn’t put this dream in your head?” Fenelon asked, and his narrowed gaze moved from Alaric to the great horned owl perched on the young man’s chair. “Demons, after all, do possess spells of mind control.

“I most certainly did not,” the demon said with a mad flutter of wings. “The other was already there when I gave the little master my essence. And anyway, I cannot control the mind of one who wears my mark and is master of my True Name.”

“What?” Fenelon glowered now. Etienne picked up a piece of bread and tore it into small bits. This was becoming quite entertaining. It wasn’t often Fenelon looked so flustered at not being on top of things.