Read Wandering Lark Online

Authors: Laura J. Underwood

Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Science Fiction & Fantasy, #Fantasy, #Sword & Sorcery

Wandering Lark (2 page)

BOOK: Wandering Lark
12.64Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

“So what now?” Alaric asked.

“That’s going to depend on you,”
Ronan said.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, first off, as much as I enjoy the company of your demon friend, it is important for you to break the bond and rid yourself of his mark,”
Ronan said, and Alaric glanced at his own palm. The white scar was still prominent, displaying the rune that bonded him to the demon as its master. Alaric sighed and made a fist of his hand.

“And how am I supposed to do that?” Alaric asked.

“You know that I am not Ard-Taebhean by birth,”
Ronan said.

Alaric made a face. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was sure he did know that, but at what time in his life he had learned it, he could not say. Perhaps, it was one of those memories once concealed behind the wall that no longer locked him away from parts of his own mind.

“I was born in Garrowye, which is far across the Ranges to the north east.”

“Garrowye?” Alaric said.

“Aye,”
Ronan said.
“I know that it is a land shrouded in myth, according to folk in Ard-Taebh.
That you think of it as a place where no humans live.”

Alaric shrugged. “I know little more than a few songs that tell about people known as the Hidden Ones.”

“No, Hidden Folk are found in the forests of old Haxony and parts of the Ranges. In truth, Garrowye is a land of unusual heritage. Its people are said to have descended from the Aelfyn.”

“Aelfyn?” Alaric wrinkled his nose and tried to remember where he had heard that word.

“Yes, and the Aelfyn are distant cousins of both the Hidden Folk who were known as Aelfar in the ancient days. The White Ones were Aelfar too. As were the Old Ones.”

“Wait a minute, are you telling me that the Old Ones lived in Garrowye?” Alaric asked.

“Yes, in a way. They still do.”

“And why should I care about any of this?” Alaric looked into the flames.

“Because, you need the help of an Aelfyn to break the bond with Vagner without hurting the demon or yourself—or me. And in order to do that, we must go to Garrowye.”

“Fine,” Alaric said. He picked up a stick and poked the peat, watching sparks ascend into the chimney. “There’s just one little problem.”

“Which is?”

“If I am remembering correctly, it could take half a year or more to reach the borders of the Ranges overland.”

“True,”
Ronan said.

“And even if I could get to the coast of Mallow, which I am not so eager to do since from here it means passing through the Mallowan swamps and perhaps meeting the Demon of Mallow, it would still take several months at sea to get there.”

“Also true,”
Ronan said.

“And I rather doubt Vagner knows how to get there through his demon gate, which would be dangerous for me since I doubt I could hold my breath so long.”

“Oh, I agree with that,”
Ronan said.

“And I cannot cast a gate spell myself or I would not be here now, so even if I knew the way, I could not get there.” Alaric shook his head. “And finally, if I took the overland or the sea route and managed to rid myself of Vagner’s company, by the time I was able to get back and defend my innocence before the Council of Mageborn, it’s very likely Fenelon, Etienne and Shona will have been sundered and executed for their part in this mess.”

Alaric sighed and dropped the stick. The weighty thought of his friends and their dilemma was not one to make him feel cheerful. He leaned his elbows on his knees and his chin on the fist his hands formed, and glared into the fire.

“Ah, well,”
Ronan said.
“There is that. Which means time is of the essence. The sooner we get to Garrowye, the sooner we can get back and...”

“You’re not listening,” Alaric said, standing up and kicking at the stool in anger. “I cannot execute a gate spell, and I will not stand aside and let my friends die while I take a sea voyage to some distant land just to rid myself of a demon bond.”

“No, it is you who is not listening,”
Ronan said, and his voice took on a honeyed tone that sent shivers through Alaric. He crossed his arms over his chest for his nerves started to tingle as though Ronan’s presence was growing stronger within him.
“There is a way to get there quickly. But it does mean you will have to let go of yourself and trust me.”

“Trust you?” Alaric said sharply. “You are the cause of all my troubles. You saddle me with a legacy that I have no desire to keep. You cause me to come to the attention of Tane Doran. I am kidnapped and tortured for something I never asked for, and you have the balls to ask me to trust you?”

“Alaric, sit down,”
Ronan said, and his voice had a different quality that was so compelling, Alaric could not resist or disobey. His own limbs betrayed him, and he sank to the floor.

“What did you just do?” Alaric asked.

“I lied to you,”
Ronan said.
“Under ordinary circumstances, a mageborn spirit cannot control the host unless the host is willing. But I made you willing all those years ago. When I placed the wall in your memory with a bit of my essence, I bound it there with certain ancient spells that the world has not seen the like of since before the Great Cataclysm. I have many powers I have never revealed to the world.”

“Fenelon said you were selfish with your magic.” Alaric said.

“Fenelon has no right to the things I know and can do,”
Ronan said fiercely, and Alaric shivered.
“The powers I possessed in life were ancient powers that he would merely misuse.”

“Oh, and what you’ve done to me is not misuse of your
powers?
Forcing me to be your vessel? Turning me into a fugitive?”

“I have done what I must for the sake of the world,” Ronan protested.

“And what about the sake of me?” Alaric asked.

“Enough of this arguing,”
Ronan said.
“Stand up, Alaric”

“No,” Alaric said, determined to retain some of his will.

But he might as well have said so to a mountain. He felt the ring on his left hand go so cold, it burned and a numbness travel over his nerves. His limbs once more betrayed him. He stood and started for the door, and he had no power to stop himself from stepping outside.

“I can control you, Alaric,”
Ronan said.
“I can possess you and force you to do whatever I desire, even though it would hurt both of us for me to do so.”

Alaric struggled in himself, struggled to fight the saturation of Ronan’s presence. His nerves began to throb with a dull ache as he fought relentlessly — and futilely — to regain control. The ring became a firebrand of ice, and he thought his whole hand was going to be destroyed.

“But I know that you would never fully consent to my control,” Ronan said softly, using Alaric’s mouth to speak. “And I would never do anything to hurt you, Lark. I think of you as a brother... a son... a worthy heir to my powers.”

“No!” Alaric cried. The warmth let go, and he fell to his knees, suddenly breathing as though he had been swimming against a current and had just reached a quiet pool of water.

Ronan sighed within him.
“But I do not want to force you into anything against your will,”
Ronan said.
“I know you hate me, and I never intended for that to happen. So I will offer you this instead. Let me take over long enough to open a gate to Garrowye. As one born there, I know the way. Once we are there, you will have control, and I will not interfere unless I think your actions will get us both killed. Then, we can find an Aelfyn Elder to break the demon bond, and once that is done, we will come back and rescue the others from Turlough. Agreed?”

Alaric closed his eyes. Part of him longed to tell Ronan to go to the deepest pits of Annwn and rot there for an eternity. But to do so would not solve the present problem.

“All right,” Alaric said. “But I want to make one change in that bargain.”

“Which is?”
Ronan said with a hint of mockery.

“Once we do find the Elder and I am free of the demon, and once the others are free, I want you out of me as well.”

There was silence. Alaric waited. For a moment, he thought Ronan was about to refuse, but then he felt the bard stir.

“If that is what you truly wish, then I promise that once we find an elder, you will never be bothered with my presence again.”

“You swear?” Alaric asked.

“I swear,”
Ronan said.

“On Marda’s grave?”

Ronan chuckled. Alaric sensed that hint of Marda’s essence stirring in the mist outside, but even as he tried to focus on it, the presence vanished again.

“If it pleases you, I will swear on Marda’s grave,”
Ronan said.

Slowly, Alaric nodded. “All right,” he said.

He opened his eyes as a great raptor filled with the essence of a demon came swooping out of the indigo sky. Vagner had half a dozen live coneys trapped in powerful claws.

“Dinner is served,” the demon called and offered one of the wriggling coneys to Alaric.

He took it with a sigh. It struggled in his grasp as the demon shifted back into its own form and wolfed down the rest of the creatures in its grasp.

“Vagner,” he said. “I rather prefer my dinner less lively.”

“Oh?” the demon said and turned into a rather lovely, unclad woman who blinked from demon eyes. “In that that case, sir...”

She
took the coney back, and with a quick motion, wrung its neck. “Shall I clean it and prepare it for you.”

“Put some clothes on first,” Alaric said and shook his head.

“Everyone’s a critic,” the demon said. But at least, Vagner’s form shifted so the beautiful young creature was turned into a matronly figure in a dress.

TWO

 

They treated her with a great deal
of dignity, for which Etienne Savala was grateful. She and Fenelon were taken to the warding towers of Dun Gealach and placed in separate chambers. A pleasant enough prison, Eitenne was wont to admit, and certainly welcome in some way. Mageborn prisoners were generally put into the lower cells which were marked and warded against spellwork, and had no windows. But “special” criminals were taken to these lofty towers to await the decisions of the High Mage.

At least I have earned myself the title of “special”
she thought with a wry hint of amusement.

How long Etienne waited, her hands fettered in ridiculously fragile looking bracelets that were ensorcelled to keep her bound, she could not say. The gag was growing slightly uncomfortable, but not so much that she feared it would leave blisters at the corners of her mouth. She was thirsty, all the same, and wondered if she should request water. Her captors had been as gentle as old nurses, seeing to it that she was assisted and comfortable, in spite of her obvious confinement. They even sent one of the women to stand guard over Etienne. That one, a matronly mageborn of advanced years, now stood at the door in quiet contemplation of her charge. Etienne was trying to remember if she knew the woman’s name, but she was too tired to care.

It had been late afternoon when they were captured far to the northeast in the Ranges. Here, it had been dark when they were first brought to Dun Gealach. But as she sat there, waiting and wondering how long she would be subjected to this silent semi-isolation, the sun rose and spread its pink and amber glow across the land. 

At length Turlough Greenfyn came into the chamber where Etienne sat in a cushioned window-seat looking out at the vast sprawl of Caer Keltora under the seepage of morning light shining through the ensorcelled bars that crisscrossed the windows. He gestured to the woman at the door who quietly curtsied and left the chamber. Turlough then fixed Etienne with a stern glower, like a father about to scold a child. Etienne met his gaze unafraid.

BOOK: Wandering Lark
12.64Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

Stalina by Emily Rubin
A Gentleman Undone by Cecilia Grant
Drip Dry by Ilsa Evans
Little Chicago by Adam Rapp
Ruin by Rachel Van Dyken
Her Special Knight by Lisa Fox
014218182X by Stephen Dobyns