Authors: Lindsey S. Johnson
A Ragged Magic (30 page)
The chapel grows dark and quiet, silvery light fading, with only dusk from the windows to see by. Connor and Linnet stand panting. Connor turns stiffly to offer Linnet his arm as she wavers on her feet, but she stands taller and waves him away.
I hang dazed where I am.
Cardinal Robere looks around at all of us. He walks over to Gantry and looks down at him. He still lives, I can feel it. But I don’t think it will be for long.
“Orrin,” I say, and I feel his fear like a weight in my mind. “Oh Dorei, the spell is still going,” I whimper, and stumble to the altar.
Bare to the waist and bloody from a beating, from the teeth and fire of demons, Orrin looks far worse than when I saw him on the stairs. The scars on his skin look angrier than mine, as if they cut deeper. His eyes open, and he looks at me. “It is too late,” he says.
I can feel the magic pulsing through him. Beside him is the still-wrapped form of Absalom, still tainted, magic going between Orrin and the corpse.
Hugh and Cardinal Robere push me aside, and the cardinal starts a spell.
I can See the darkness of the spells already on my friend, and I reach for his hand. “It is not too late, Orrin. Fight,” I whisper.
Robere’s spell breaks and the threads scatter. He closes his eyes, rubbing at his temples.
“It didn’t work,” I say.
“No. I don’t have enough power left. I need help, Hugh. Link to me.”
Hugh reaches to grasp Robere’s left hand. I watch them meld their magic together — silver and blue — and wrap it in and around Orrin until he begins to glow.
The demons that tear him apart inside howl through his pores and rip at the spells they weave. I feel them weaken, and I add myself into the warp and weft of the spell, linking to Hugh.
My lungs burn, my joints burn, and I am inside Orrin. His wounds bind the demons to him; they drink his blood and enter his spirit. Absalom’s body is still a vessel — his body carries the demon taint, and now I feel it, like a disease that can mar the very air.
If the spell continues, the demons will use Orrin as a conduit from their plane, wreaking whatever havoc they can. He is demon-torn: his spirit bleeds as they try to meld with him. Though he fights them, he can’t hold out for long.
Neither can the others. I feel them weakening, the drain on me. I open to the well of wild magic under the castle again, feel it burn through me. My scars singe and sear, the air driven from my lungs with the pain. I wheeze and gasp, but the warp is full again and our spell sings strong.
Magic whispers in my mind. At first I think it is demons, but I see the shape of a spell, the shape of runes, the glorious arc and movement of words and shapes and color and power. I start to chant through the pain of it all, chant words that suddenly spring to life, on Orrin’s body. On my body. I take control of all of the magic, Hugh’s and the cardinal’s and mine, and I weave it all together.
I can feel the shape of my runes change with the force of the wild magic. I chant though my skin burns, my eyes burn, all I see is the white-hot spell.
Voices cry out around me, but they are driven back. Orrin twitches, I can feel him cringing away from the flame that is me, but I reach my burning arms around him. His body crackles in my arms.
I feel the power rush out of me, rivers of power. It fills me, pours out of me in fountains of white so hot it is stars. I feel it enter Orrin and drive the demon-sickness from him, burning the reservoirs of his power until they boil away. The power encases us in a cocoon of light: Dorei protect me, I am fire.
I take hold of this power with charring mental hands, direct it inward and away from Orrin before I kill him. The magic answers my call sluggishly, whirls in my veins, along new runes seared into my skin. I cut myself off from the wild magic, let it drain away. I think it drains all of me away with it.
My eyes clear of the light. The heat of the magic has forced everyone back, and I see them staring, calling out to me, their eyes wide. They move as though slowed in time.
I look at Orrin — his body seems whole, I do not see the sickness or the spell on him. His eyelids flutter, and he looks at me.
I lie down beside him, so tired. It all aches. My cheek presses into cold and gritty stone. I reach for his arm. “No more demons,” I say, and I breathe a laugh because I can say it. “No more demons, and no more demon spells. We are free,” I tell him.
He lifts a shaking hand and lays it on my cheek. “Don’t die,” he whispers.
“You either,” I whisper back.
Robere reaches Orrin at the same time Connor reaches me. Connor pulls me into his lap. It hurts, everything is pain. I gasp and shudder, try to speak again but I can’t. I open my eyes to Connor patting my face. I can’t hear him but his mouth forms words. “Breathe, Rhiannon! Look at me! Breathe!”
My ears fill with a frantic beating. I drain away in dribbles and I can’t hold on any more. Darkness comes for me as Connor’s voice rings in my ears.
Chapter Thirty
I
wake to the sounds of water pouring, voices, someone weeping quietly. When I open my eyes, I find I’m looking at high pointed arches and white marble. The great hall. I turn my head and see cots lining the walls, much more organized than when I last saw it. Someone lies on the cot next to me, the blanket pulled up and cocooning. Turning my head to look the other way, I see much the same thing.
I spend some time trying to convince my body to move, but give it up as a bad idea after awhile. I only hope my bladder will hold out.
“Rhiannon?” I look back to my left. Linnet stands next to my bed, a mug in her hands. Her left arm is bandaged to the elbow, her sleeve rolled up to stay off of it, and her face looks sunburned. “Are you really awake?”
“Yes,” I croak, surprised at the state of my voice.
“I mean it. What’s my name?”
“Linnet,” I cough, try to lever myself to my elbows, give up. “Don’t be silly. Can I have that tea?”
“There you are.” She smiles. “You’ve been either raving or asleep for days. Time you woke up for real.”
“Days?” I cough some more. She has to help me sit up to drink from the mug.
“Orrin,” I start to ask.
“Look for yourself,” she says, and points to my other side.
When I turn my head, I realize it’s him lying on that cot. He’s turned his head to look at me. One side of his mouth quirks up a little. “Hello, sleepyhead,” he whispers.
A weight I didn’t know was holding me down lifts, and I feel my mouth widen and grin, my eyes close. I reach across to the edge of his cot, and grab at the blanket. “Hello, you.”
“You sound terrible.” I stick my tongue out at him.
“Your breath stinks, too,” Linnet adds, and Orrin smiles a real smile and turns his face to his pillow to chuckle weakly.
“How kind of you.”
“The rest of you doesn’t smell any better,” she adds.
“Shut up, Linnet,” I say, but with no heat. She’s probably right. “So help me get up. I need the guarderobe.”
My head pounds and my body shakes like a newborn calf as she helps me to the makeshift privy in the corner of the hall. Blankets have been put up as a little tent, and old-fashioned chamber pots for people to use. It’s not pretty, but with what looks like twenty or thirty people still in beds in this impromptu hospital, the guarderobe at the end of the hall is too far. At least it’s kept as clean as can be.
There’s another blanket tent, with wash water warm from the fire, and several clean shifts and tunics on a bench. Linnet helps me wash and dress. All my scars are still there, but now there are new ones on my wrists — faint and white and more like filigree than the others. My magic changed the runes.
Linnet stares, and stares at me staring. “Don’t ever do any of that again,” she says.
I look up at her, wary. “Do what?”
“Almost kill yourself. Nearly burn down a chapel. Fall into a fever for days. But do try to stay awake for an hour altogether this time, will you?”
“Did you miss me?” I tease, but she looks sad.
“Yes.”
I sit blinking, and she presses her lips together and pulls the shift down over my head, walks me back to bed.
I try to be careful of her arm. “What’s the bandage for?”
“Your, uh, magic. Burned me. Us.”
I take a breath. “Oh.” She arranges the covers around me, fusses with my pillows. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s nothing,” she says. “Lie still. Do you want soup?”
I look over at Orrin, who stares up at the ceiling. He doesn’t look back. “Who is — who didn’t —” I take a breath. “Who has died, then?”
“Marla cook, Mary, Robert, Samuel. Gervaise. Lady Geneve. That new seamstress. Some guards. A lot of people in town.” Linnet clears her throat. “Really a lot.”
“And Gantry —”
“He’s dead.” Orrin’s voice stays flat, and his gaze stays to the ceiling.
“And the demons?” I keep my eyes on Orrin, but I feel my mouth say the word, and I feel my breath even in my lungs, and I can’t help but say it again. “Demons. He called demons.”
“I know that,” Linnet says.
But Orrin turns his face to me. “He called demons, and he killed the queen, and he tried to kill Princess Julianna, and Princess Eleanor,” he says in a rush. “He is no true bishop. He is no true anyone anymore.” He takes a deep breath, shudders. “He called demons.”
“He’s dead,” I say, to confirm it. To let breath into my lungs. I reach my hand over to him, and he reaches back to grab it. We hold on for a moment, but we are both so tired.
“I’m getting Asa,” Linnet says.
But I can feel myself slipping back into sleep, now I’m lying down again. I try to shake my head, mumble something, and the voices go fuzzy and far away above me as I fade back into darkness.
～
I jerk awake in the blurry half-light, lamps turned down and a rocking weight on my cot. I blink my eyes to focus them, see who sits with me. A spike of fear clears the sleep from my mind as I recognize Archbishop Montmoore.
“Well, see who joins us. Good evening, young lady,” he says quietly.
I try to cry out, but his magic is strong, and I am still so weak. His power ruffles through my mind, and I can’t reach out while he keeps my magic quiet.
“So much power here. I think you could share,” I hear him mutter.
I can’t do anything magical, but I can move. The cot lists already from him sitting on it, so I throw myself against him, which dumps us both onto the cold floor.
Montmoore shouts in surprise, and I hear other voices raised, people coming closer. Montmoore extricates himself from the tumbled mess that is cot and blankets and me, and stumbles to his feet, swearing. “Cleverness can only avail you so much, child,” he whispers. His magic releases me as he hurries away.
I send to Hugh for help, wincing at the ringing in my head as I do.
We’re coming
, Hugh sends back.
Don’t let him take you anywhere.
The message bangs in my head like drums, and I cut myself off from everyone. Montmoore is gone, out toward the barbican.
When I look up, Orrin’s face peeks over the edge of his cot, his eyebrow raised. “You do seem to find yourself in trouble a lot, don’t you?” he rasps.
I try to make a rude gesture, but the pain and exhaustion overwhelm me, so I give up in favor of a vague glare and wandering out of consciousness.
Arms lift me from the floor, arms that feel familiar. I squint up at Connor’s face as he walks out of the great hall with me.
“Where are we going?”
He glances at me, his mouth pressed into a thin smile. “Somewhere a tad more private. And guardable.”
“Tell Montmoore,” I drop my head against his chest, “tell him sharing is overrated.”
Connor’s chest shakes lightly with a laugh or something else, and I let myself drift away, feeling safe.
I rouse a bit when Connor lays me down in a bed — in my bed, in the room I share with Linnet. He pushes curls back from my face and looks stern.
“Did he get away?” I ask.
“Yes. I have people looking for him …”
“But there was a ship waiting,” I finish. The vision of Montmoore on a deck slips sharp and painful into my mind. I wince away from it.
Connor sighs and shakes his head at me.
“I have to leave tomorrow for Corat. I have reports to deliver to the king, and Julianna needs to present the baby to court as soon as possible. Try not to get into any trouble while I’m gone.”
“You either,” I say.
He snorts at me. “Who in this room is currently laid low by immense over-use of magic?”
“Who told me himself he has enemies everywhere?” I retort. My voice is weak, and I can’t focus my eyes fully. “When are you coming back?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t know. Soon, I hope. It will take us a week of travel at least, with the carriages. And I may need to stay in Corat for awhile, to deal with some matters.” He strokes at my hair. “Hugh sent the bailiff to arrest Guildmaster Aman and the others we know about, but it’s likely Stephen still has agents in town, possibly in the castle. So do me a favor and be careful. Do what Hugh tells you. Mostly.”
I roll my eyes. “Who gets to tell you what to do?”
“Almost everyone.”
“Then do what I say, too. Stay safe. Remember you’re not your brother.”
“I am most decidedly not my brother. Be well, Rhiannon.” He smoothes my hair again, kisses my forehead. Bending further, he touches his lips to mine, soft, gentle.
A shiver runs through me and my hands spasm in fists in the blanket, then on his arms. I kiss him back, pulling him closer, dizzy from exhaustion, from him. When he draws away to rest his forehead on mine, we’re both breathing harder.
“I’ll look for you when I return,” he says, his voice maybe a little rough. He stands and leaves the room, abrupt as ever.
“I bet you say that to all the exonerated witches,” I rasp at the closing door.
I see the gleam of his eye, a hint of a smile as he turns, and then he’s gone.
～
The next few days I wander in and out of wakefulness, slowly regaining my strength. Julianna left instructions for me, as did Cardinal Robere, on what to eat and when I can stand up. Asa and Hugh check in on me, but Linnet is the one who spends her time making sure I follow instructions.
I haven’t seen Orrin since the night Montmoore escaped. Linnet says Orrin doesn’t want to see anyone. She’s the only one he’ll speak to right now.
I walk across the hall to the guest room where they’ve put him. I knock and crack the door open, so he can’t send me away before I peek in. He looks up from the bed, where he’s propped against the large wooden headboard, staring at nothing. Afternoon sunshine dapples the woven hanging on the wall opposite the bed. The window looks out over the sea.
“Hi,” I say. His curly hair is a little bushier, his skin less ashy, than the last few months. I think not being trapped in Gantry’s spell agrees with him. I think magic scars that live on your skin is hard for both of us. I think he needs a friend. I know I do.
He still says nothing.
“I missed you,” I say, feeling stupid.
He glances at me, then stares at his fingers picking at the rosy embroidered counterpane. “I didn’t know how to stop him.”
“I know. I knew. I wasn’t — I didn’t know either.” I walk a few more steps into the room, biting my lips.
“You saved me,” he says quietly.
“You saved me first. A couple of times. I wish I’d saved you sooner.”
“So do I.”
And we are weeping in each other’s arms, arms scarred with runes that mark us, change us, make us different. Our skin is marred, but we own our souls.
“What’s going on in here?” Linnet stands in the doorway with a tray, frowning at us. “Rhiannon, are you making people cry again?”
“Linnet, do you have a handkerchief?” Orrin asks.
I start to laugh, and he smiles at us both, but his eyes are still sad.
Linnet sighs and brings the tray to the side table. “You both are so strange. Here, have a napkin. And I have letters for you.” She draws papers from her skirt pocket.
“Letters? From whom?” I wipe my face and take the papers, look through them quickly. Julianna has sent something, and Robere for both Orrin and me.
“A certain Earl of Dorward has sent a missive.”
I look up; both Orrin and Linnet are smirking at me. “Shut up.” I fight my own smile down when I see his name. “Shut up both of you.” I look at Orrin as he scans his letter from Cardinal Robere, his expression tense. “What does he say?”
“He wants me to come to Corat to work with him. He thinks we both should go.”
“As an acolyte?”
“He doesn’t say.”
“Do you still want to be an acolyte?” Linnet asks.
Orrin shrugs, his face very carefully blank. “I don’t know.”
I press my lips together and work to keep my thoughts private. Orrin should get to make up his own mind. I don’t know what I want to do now, either. I pick up the next letter, the one from Julianna, but a piece of paper falls out of it, folded smaller with my name — my full name, Rhiannon Owen, on it. It has no other seal, and no greeting when I open it.
“Who is that from?” Linnet asks.
It doesn’t say, but I know.
I can’t wait to meet you, clever Rhiannon.
No signature, but I know it’s from Stephen, Connor’s brother. My stomach drops and my hands tremble, and I’m so very cold.
Orrin reaches for the paper, and when his hand touches mine, the vision swamps us both.
An angry woman, a queen, rips up a treaty, calls it an insult. A dark-eyed man smiles and makes her promises for when he is king. An army gathers in a mountain city.
We both drop the note and stare at each other, panting.
Linnet picks it up. “What is it? What does it mean?” she demands.
Orrin and I speak at the same time. “War.”