Chapter Six

“But we have to get to Tarvis now. We can’t wait,” Cera argued for what seemed the thousandth time. She looked at Avery, who was nodding. At least her cousin agreed. “The more time we waste, the more damage Varthan will do. We have to go now.”

“I’m afraid it would do you no good,” Hadrian’s tone was quiet, but firm. “The lad’s father is your only hope.”

Jorrin sighed, his chest heavy, shoulders slumped. How was he supposed to find a man he’d been looking for since he’d left home three full turns earlier? He hadn’t run into any signs.

Hadrian was master of magic, and he couldn’t find him . . . so how was he, a half-trained mage, supposed to?

When he’d left Aramour, finding his father had been the original plan, but his search for months had proved fruitless, the task near impossible. He’d refused to crawl home, proving his mother right, so he’d focused on living. Moved around from place to place, feeling for magic, continuing to half-search, but finding nothing. He hadn’t exactly given up, but his search had fallen into the background.

He had to eat, so he picked up coin any way he could: tracking, and selling himself as mercenary a time or two. Jorrin had even lowered himself to performing magic tricks in busy parts of the cities he’d been to, though that was only when he had been especially desperate. He wasn’t proud of it, and definitely wouldn’t admit it aloud.

Of course he wanted to find his father; that fact had never changed, but never in a million turns did he think Cera would play a part in the search.

Time was everything right now; he had to agree with her about that.

Gray eyes wide, her desperation poured from her, making his magic ache.

The last thing Jorrin wanted to do was hurt her. “I don’t know what to do,” he admitted.

She deflated, and his heart skipped a beat when her eyes welled with tears.

“Cera . . . don’t . . .”

“Wait a moment . . .” Avery broke in. Three pairs of eyes looked at him expectantly, “Hadrian, do you have spell books?”

“Of course, but why?”

Avery’s expression was sober and serious, more so than Jorrin had ever seen him.

“In some reading I’ve done in the past, I’ve come across some spells that allow wide geographical scrying. Maybe we can leave a message tuned to Jorrin’s father that only he can see.” Avery sounded so grown up, Jorrin saw him in a new light.

“Hmmm, that may be possible, but it’ll take some time. I know a few spells, but you’re right to want to look in a book. There’re many variations. Maybe we can find something more powerful than I’m familiar with. Or fashion our own?”

Crafting an original spell that would work was tricky. The words, tone, rhythm all had to line up to form a powerful incantation.

Could the wizard and the boy do it?

Blessed Spirit, give us something.

Hadrian rose from his stool and went over to a large bookcase in the corner of the room. Muttering in Aramourian, he spoke too low for Jorrin to catch what he said. He moved his hands back and forth, squinting to gain a better view.

Just like the rest of the small cabin, the books were full of magic, too. They came forward of their own accord one by one so Hadrian could examine the titles. If it was not the book he was looking for, it would return itself to the shelf in order, and as if it had not been disturbed.

“One of the reasons I failed when I tried was because I didn’t have anything that belonged to Braedon.” Hadrian returned to his stool, three thick tomes on his lap.

The spell books looked old.

Jorrin blinked away sudden emotion at the first mention of his father’s name. “It should work then, this time.” Without another word, he rose and went outside to where their horses were tied.

Grayna neighed, so he took a moment to caress her nose, whispering to her and dropping a kiss on her wide forehead. She lifted her head and lipped his cheek, making him smile. With one last pat to her neck, he went to his saddlebag.

He only had one thing that belonged to his father. His mother had given it to him when he was a little boy, and it’d comforted him many a time when he didn’t understand why his father had left. His hands bumped the cool metal.

“Got it,” Jorrin whispered.

He stared at the belt buckle, his heart pounding. It was meant to be decorative, a fire-breathing dragon etched into it. He ran his thumb over it, feeling the smooth embossed edges. Kissing the buckle, Jorrin sent a small prayer to the Blessed Spirit.

Avery had to be correct, the scrying would work.

When he returned to the dwelling, he tossed the buckle to Hadrian.

The wizard hastily caught it. Hadrian smiled. “I remember when your mother bought this for him.” Jorrin just nodded, his voice caught in his throat.

Avery sat at a wooden table Jorrin hadn’t noticed before, already poring over one of the spell books, the other two close beside him. His concentration on his task was complete. Had Cera’s cousin even noticed that he’d come back inside?

“This is going to take a while,” Hadrian remarked, gesturing to Avery. “He’ll need my help. He caught me up on the goings on of that evil man and his shades. Magically speaking, there is much to do.” Then the elf smiled very gently at Cera. “Not to worry, Lady Ryhan, we’ll be as speedy as we can.”

 

****

 

Time was slipping through her fingers.

No one was listening to her.

She needed to get to Tarvis.

Cera needed to save what was left of her family, and she needed to defeat Varthan. “Time is what we don’t have.” Her voice came out cracked, week. Barely containing her threatening sob. Her throat ached.

“Cera, we need to try,” her cousin urged, not looking up from his task.

She sighed, her body limp, but her chest heavy.

Avery was supposed to be on her side . . . they were his parents, after all.

She hadn’t moved from the seat the wizard had first invited her into.

Jorrin laid a hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently.

Cera refused to acknowledge how his comfort made her heart skip a beat, how welcome it was. How she wanted more. When he’d held her by the fire that morning she’d never felt so safe, despite the fact she’d been crying like a weakling.

Trikser whined and rose from the hearth rug, sitting at her feet and looking up at her, amber eyes warm, concerned. He rested his large head on her lap. She placed a hand between his ears, but it was an automatic response. “It’d better work,” she whispered.

“It will work, cousin.” Avery looked up from the old tome. His gray eyes bored into her. “I’m as worried as you for my parents, but my mother wouldn’t have sent me away if she thought she couldn’t handle things, believe me. She can scry for us, too. Mother will know what we’re doing.”

Cera shrugged.

What did it really matter?

She didn’t have a choice but to wait.

“Your father had better be good,” she told Jorrin, looking up at him.

One corner of his mouth lifted, but he didn’t respond.

Hadrian chuckled. “I trained him . . .” the old elf winked, his blue eyes sparkling.

Cera managed a small smile, leaning into Jorrin as he gave her another comforting squeeze. She didn’t want to resist his touch, she wanted more of it.

“This is going to take me some time, and I need to concentrate.” Avery took a deep breath. “I will find what I am looking for, Cera, I promise. And we’ll find your father, Jorrin.”

She grudgingly admired her cousin’s determination.

Jorrin whispered his thanks.

“In the meantime, I’m rather low on supplies . . .” Hadrian grimaced, looking around the room. “It’s a bit late to go into the village . . . can either of you hunt?”

“I’m good with a bow, if you have one. Mine’s in Greenwald,” Cera said.

“I can fix that,” the elf wizard said, “if you’d be willing to catch supper.”

“Of course. Are you up for it, Jorrin?”

“Yes.”

Cera’s heart thundered. She’d be alone with him again. She stared into his blue eyes.

Jorrin didn’t look away, either, making her shift on the chair.

“Well, then, let’s get your bow,” Hadrian said.

Reluctantly she tore her gaze away from Jorrin and glanced at the elf.

He raised his wand and began to recite a spell. It was Aramourian, but it was obviously a couplet, the words had flow and sounded as if they rhymed.

The wand began to glow green, and the elf moved it back and forth several times. His chanting became louder and he closed his eyes. The green glow brightened, slowly moving outward from Hadrian’s wand to surround his arm, creeping up until it encircled his whole body like an aura.

A moment later, a bow and a quiver full of arrows appeared before the four of them and hovered in the air.

Cera gasped.

It was her own bow, a gift from Captain Moray, leader of the King’s Riders.

She’d received it upon achieving the rank of Senior Rider. She’d had to leave it at Marshek’s tavern in the room where she’d been staying. Mourned its loss, too. Never expected to see it again. Tears blurred her vision.

“Well, go on, I can’t hold it up forever,” Hadrian said.

“How did you . . . ?” Her voice trembled as she rose from the chair and grabbed her prize. Cera took the quiver, slung it over her shoulder, holding the bow with one hand, and landing heavily in the cushioned seat.

She’d always loved the bow. Cera caressed the smooth wood from top to bottom, fingering the grip and hugging it to her chest.

King Nathal himself had bid his weapons crafter make it for her, and it was the finest bow she’d ever owned. It was short, but performed like a longbow and had the smoothest pull she’d ever used. She’d loved it from the first time she’d shot an arrow from it.

“I’m a wizard, that’s how.” Hadrian winked.

“Thank you, Hadrian. I mean it—thank you. This means so much to me.” Cera planted a kiss on the old elf’s cheek. His cheeks reddened, and she giggled.

Jorrin chuckled.

“Get outta here and get me some dinner, then,” the wizard barked.

Jorrin and Cera hurried out, holding the door open for Trikser. They exchanged a grin and then burst out laughing.

She heard Hadrian ask Avery just what he thought he was looking at and her cousin’s answering laugh as Jorrin shut the door.

 

****

“Here lad, eat.” Hadrian set the full bowl of hearty deer stew on the table in front of Avery. The redhead didn’t even look up from the dusty old tome.

They’d been able to down a white-tailed deer.

Hadrian was overjoyed he’d not been required to make the kill himself. He’d explained that due to his gift of understanding animals, hunting was very graphic for him. The elf could hear and feel the animal’s pain. Though it was always for sustenance, he couldn’t bear it. He always bought meat from the nearby village market.

“This is delicious.” Jorrin spooned the biggest mouthful he could manage.

The thick venison stew reminded him of home, and his mother’s cooking. If he closed his eyes, there was no doubt he would relive a memory of his mother in the kitchen of his childhood home, stirring a large kettle as it simmered over the fire of the largest hearth. His heart gave a painful twinge.

He missed his mother.

“It is. Hadrian, thank you. Avery, you really do need to eat. You rode hard from Tarvis, and the dried meat I had wasn’t enough,” Cera said over her own bowl.

“I’m busy.” He still pored over the old book. Avery didn’t even spare her a glance. “I have to find it. I have to find the right one.”

“Geesh, no wonder you’re so skinny,” Hadrian exclaimed, shaking his head. “Don’t be foolish, lad.”

Cera’s cousin still did not look up from the book.

“The dedication is appreciated, but you need to eat, or you won’t be able to do a damn thing with whatever you see in there,” Jorrin said.

“Come on, cousin,” Cera encouraged. “It’s getting cold.”

Avery looked up and relented when he saw the inviting bowl of food. “All right, but I’m going to make it quick. I may be getting somewhere. Maybe.”

“Oh yeah?” Jorrin asked.

Nodding between mouthfuls, Avery shoveled food into his mouth.

Jorrin quirked a half-smile.

Was he even pausing to chew?

The younger man would choke at his current pace.

“Slow down and taste your food,” Cera admonished. Had she read his mind? “You’re going to choke to death, then where will we be?” She quirked an auburn eyebrow.

Jorrin looked from one to the other, waiting for Cera to smile.

She’s serious.

Avery made a face at her, but his next spoonful wasn’t at the same top speed.

“You said you almost have it?” Jorrin prodded.

The younger man turned the page in the dusty tome and pointed. He did not, however, put down his bowl or stop eating.

Jorrin was glad the stew had most of Avery’s attention. He didn’t want the redhead to forego his own needs.

His father would arrive in good time; he had confidence in Avery and Hadrian. Exactly what role he’d play at this point, Jorrin hadn’t a clue, but he’d assist in any way he could.

He just wished he could assure Cera everything would be all right, and they’d make it to Tarvis in time.

They’d stop Varthan, especially with his father’s help.

“There are a few possibilities here, and one here.” Avery pointed to both pages of the open book.

Jorrin sighed. He couldn’t see the spells from his seat, and Avery’s gestures were slight, as if he was standing over his shoulder.

“There’s nothing much to see, anyway, at this point.”

Jorrin’s expression must have betrayed his thought. He grimaced. “Sorry.”

“I need to find the right combination, and that’s the problem. The options are not so bad, individually, but I can’t seem to find one that has all I need the spell to be able to do,” Cera’s cousin continued, as if he’d not spoken.

“Combining spells can be done. We just have to get the tempo right,” Hadrian said, snapping his fingers and waving his wand. His empty bowl promptly disappeared, as did his fork.

Cera paused her meal, pretty gray eyes wide.

The old wizard shrugged. “What? It’s the easiest way to do the dishes.”

Jorrin laughed.

Avery didn’t even look up. The spell book had sucked him back in again.

Had he even seen Hadrian’s cleaning?

“But where does it go?” Cera leaned forward in her chair.

“In the cupboard, of course, where dishes belong.” The elf inclined his head, blue eyes twinkling.

Brow knitted, she cocked her head to one side. “But . . . is it . . . clean?”

Jorrin chuckled again, and she glanced at him absently. He didn’t need his empathic magic to feel her disbelief and wonder. Her facial expressions were so vivid and readable.

“Of course. I wouldn’t be much of a maid, if it weren’t, now would I?” Hadrian asked, straight-faced.

“And the fork?”

“Clean also, in its proper place, the drawer.”

Cera looked at her empty bowl, then at the wizard. “Gonna do mine?”

“I shall. I wouldn’t want to leave any dirty bowls out. Draws bugs,” the wizard said.

She blinked at Hadrian’s joke and Jorrin bit back a laugh. “This is commonplace to you?”

“For most elfin households, yes. It’s all right, Cera, really.”

“Can we get back to the issues at hand?” Avery snapped.

Jorrin glanced at her cousin. With his attention on the book, it was a surprise he’d followed the conversation.

Hadrian cleared his throat. “Aye, certainly, but as I said before, combining spells shouldn’t be a problem. Saves the energy needed to write your own and make it work. Show me what you’re referring to.” He stood beside Avery at the table, studying the book.

Standing, the wizard was as tall as Cera’s cousin sitting.

“Hmmm . . . that could work.” His lips moved slightly as he read. Hadrian turned to an earlier page. “This one’s better.” He tapped the tome.

“But how . . . ?” Avery asked, face reddening.

The wizard laid a slender hand on Avery’s arm. “I’ll show you.”

Jorrin’s admiration of him shot up a degree. With that much kindness, there was no doubt Hadrian was a great teacher.

“Cera,” he said after several more moments of watching the wizard and the younger man. “We’re going to be in the way here.”

“Where should we go?” She looked around the small room pointedly.

“Well, I could show you what we talked about before, how to see through Trikser’s eyes.”

“Really? Now?”

“Yes, but let’s go outside. There’s more room, and we won’t be in the way.”

Privacy, too.

He’d be alone with her.

Cera nodded and glanced at the white wolf. He was lying in front of the hearth again, licking the bowl clean from his own portion of venison. He had earned it, because he’d flushed the doe from the woods to allow his mistress a clean shot. She’d told him that Trikser was used to hunting that way with her, and he obviously loved his reward.

Watching her with the bow was intriguing. She was skilled and graceful, even on horseback. Never missed a shot, either. It’d been hard to remember she was highborn.

“Trikser.” Her smile was brilliant when the wolf looked at her, tail wagging. Jorrin’s heart quickened. “Want to go outside?”

Her bondmate rose to all fours and headed for the door before either of them. When they didn’t come immediately, he glanced over his shoulder.

“See? He understands me.” Cera threw him a smug look and crossed her arms over her breasts.

Jorrin chuckled and shrugged.

They slipped out the door, leaving Hadrian and Avery deep in discussion. Neither seemed to notice that they’d left.

“All right, then, elf-boy. Show me what you got.”

He laughed and had to restrain himself from kissing the look off her face.