Autumn (32 page)

             
The cries of the wounded and tortured finally ceased.

             
From what seemed to be far away, Arabel heard a low chanting and when she was able to look around, she saw that it was Francesca, Xavier, Mireille, Baltis, Madame de Lorimar and a few others she did not know, engaged in a solemn chant. The flames licked the edges of the circle and Zander held his hands overtop. He uttered some strange words Arabel had never heard before.

             
“Entis-one-linosia!” Zander said, which sounded nonsensical to Arabel’s ears, but the words magically calmed the flames around the circle until they became tiny embers of light and the circle returned to its former state of white powdered dust. Zander closed his eyes and Arabel waited to see what was next. Eli took hold of Arabel’s arm as Zander reopened his eyes and smiled at his two companions.

             
“Well done,” Zander said heartily, and taking hold of Arabel’s other hand, he led them out of the sacred circle, their task for the evening completed.

             
Arabel felt keyed up and energized, although she had been certain destroying the shield would be a draining endeavour. She made her way with Eli to the Frankel caravan along with Mireille and Baltis, feeling strangely anti-climactic. The other Gypsies had dispersed and Arabel was going to have a quick meal with Eli’s parents and then Eli would take her home via Jovah, after which he would return to Murphy Estates in order to be ready for work the following morning.

             
“I’ve been painting,” Baltis remarked to Arabel and Eli as they reached the caravan and he held the door open for his wife and the others to enter. Arabel was glad the caravan was warm inside and the lingering scent of fresh baking and fragrant herbs permeated the space. Arabel felt her adrenalin slowing and was glad for both the comfort of the caravan and the solid pleasure of trusted company.

             
“I would love to see what you are working on,” Arabel replied immediately and Baltis favoured her with a wide grin which showcased his strong cheekbones. Baltis took Arabel’s arm and brought her into the small living area, where he’d covered the painting work-space with rags to protect the rug and floor.

             
Arabel stood and stared at Baltis’ newest painting. It appeared to be roughly three quarters finished and was absolutely stunning. Baltis had painted an alternate view of the Land of the Red Orange Sun and Arabel once again felt drawn to within the very depths of the artwork. The painting pulled at her, called to her, and she wished they could mend the bridge so she could enter this strange and wondrous land and experience its magic firsthand.

             
The painting depicted a majestic mountain range with the grand Elmatuo Bridge in the foreground. The long and regal bridge was unbroken and painted a gay citrine. The water underneath the bridge shimmered in various shades of bright blues, sea-greens, and teals. The sky was bursting with living light and no clouds marred the orange skyline. In the distance, climbing the mountain, Arabel spied a group of Gypsies. The figures had been painted in so that they were scaling the great peaks along what looked to be a winding path which began around the base of the tall mountains and carried on up to the highest peak. Baltis had yet to fill in the surrounding areas of the mountain range and the very top of the painting canvas, he’d left blank.

             
“It’s amazing!” Arabel exclaimed and Baltis beamed at her.

             
“Thank you, Arabel. I only wish I could show you the real thing!” Baltis sighed. “Perhaps one day we can all return together,” he added and Mireille smiled at her husband fondly.

             
“You keep the magic real for us, my dear, by enabling us to remember what still exists. Though it may be hidden from our eyes, we know, and we remember, and that is indeed a great gift for all of us.”

             
Mireille embraced her husband and Arabel was touched by the authentic connection between them, and honoured that Eli’s father would want to share his passionate artistic creation with her.

             
“Now,” Mireille said, turning her astute gaze to the young couple, “who’s hungry?”

             
The next morning, before either her grandmother or Mrs. Peyton-Peggison could find her and set her to begin the onerous task of scrubbing down walls and scouring floors, Arabel snuck out of the house just after dawn broke. Cook seemed to be getting used to Arabel’s strange new habit of leaving the house every day before the household had properly stirred - and then returning only after dinner -but she said nothing to Arabel about this. Cook just nodded her normal good morning and kept on with the baking while Arabel packed foodstuffs into her haversack and helped herself to a strong cup of tea.

             
Arabel was pleased no one was around to question her actions or prevent her from leaving the house. She quietly left via the back door and hastily made her way toward Blue Jay Hollow. Ira came immediately to see Arabel and the bird sent her some interesting, mental images of Jonty Governs. Apparently Jonty was under some sort of house arrest at his mother’s caravan and Ira was most amused at the constant lecturing he was receiving from the petite and irate woman. Ira crowed and chortled in mischievous delight and Arabel could not help responding in kind.

             
“Most amusing, Ira,” Arabel acknowledged to the bird as he showed her pictures of the thief bemoaning his fate, and of his mother telling him in no uncertain terms exactly what she thought of his errant, criminal ways.

             
A slight rain was falling and the weather had returned to the regular pattern that was to be expected for autumn in The Corvids. It had warmed enough so that all of the snow had melted, creating massive puddles, and the steady rain continued to add to the corresponding mud that seemed to be all-pervasive. Arabel picked her way through the mucky path as best as she could as she traveled the distance to Murphy Estates. She was going to visit Shelaine to see if she could unearth further information about her grandparents.

             
Arabel realized it very much bothered her that she had no idea as to how her grandfather, Markus Leon, had died. Had she ever known? Arabel searched her memory banks but came up with no recollection. It was puzzling. Arabel very much hoped the Murphy’s maid would be able to recall any incidents or scraps of information which could shed light on her grandmother’s eccentric behaviour and perhaps help Arabel to understand what had precipitated the feud between her grandmother and her mother. The past seemed to be very much a part of the present and Arabel sought to understand how one fit into the other. It seemed a prudent line of thought, as the mystery of what was currently happening in The Corvids did seem to be linked irrevocably to the events of the past.

             
The fever which had claimed Arabel’s parents and destroyed a quarter of the population of The Corvids was forefront in Arabel’s mind. She kept turning the information she was already familiar with, over and over in her mind, as if by over-analyzing it, she would make better sense of it. Unfortunately, it was not working out that way and instead, the analysis only served to twist Arabel into further knots of old grief and frustrated apprehension.

             
Since Arabel’s paternal grandparents had passed before her birth, and Patrick Edward Spade had been an only child, Arabel knew none of her father’s folk. Thus knowing the real truth as to the misfortune of her maternal grandparents felt that much more important to Arabel to discover.

             
Arabel absently turned the ring Mireille had given her around on her finger. Today Arabel wore both the ring and the red stones from Baltis for protection, and she could feel the strength from the magical gifts filling her with a small sense of calm amidst the wild turbulence of her thoughts. Arabel kept the bejewelled athame from Xavier upon her person as well, and was further strengthened by its reassuring presence.

             
Last night had ended on a very cheery note as Arabel had said goodbye to Eli’s parents after they’d consumed a lovely supper of split pea soup, rosemary thyme bread and a creamy ginger and carrot dish Arabel had never tasted before but had found to be most satisfying. Baltis had promised he would paint her a small picture of the Land of the Red Orange Sun for her bedroom and Arabel had been delighted. Mireille had sent her home with more protective herbs as well and Arabel had made sure to have a teaspoonful both last night and before leaving the house today.

             
And Eli. He’d been silent on the return journey and Arabel had wondered what was bothering him. She’d sensed it had to do with her grandmother’s decree that they could not be together and she had sought to reassure Eli by telling him that it did not matter to her what her guardian thought.

             
Or said. Or did. Arabel had vowed to Eli that she would do as she liked in this matter and Eli had been torn; she could see it plainly in his expressive brown eyes. Eli hadn’t wanted to cause any sort of disagreement between Arabel and her only living family and a fair amount of guilt was consuming him.

             
Eli had held Arabel tightly, as if he would either never let her go, or would never see her again. He had also refrained from coming into the house with her. They’d kissed for some time on the back veranda, lingering, in order to postpone their inevitable separation, and Arabel was certain Eli was more troubled than he would admit. His kiss had been tender and loving, but ultimately, somewhat sad.

             
Arabel had rained kisses on Eli’s beautiful face, she’d wound her arms around his neck, her hands framing his cheekbones and she’d told him again how she would defy anyone who dared try to come between them.

             
“Nothing matters to me as much as you,” she’d said.

             
Thinking over it now, Arabel wished again for some way to make Eli understand that convention and reputation meant little to her and she would forsake both to keep their union intact. As Arabel got closer to Blue Jay Hollow, the rain ceased its relentless drumming upon her head and Arabel’s excitement over questioning the maid increased.

             
First she would venture to the stables to see Eli, and then she would make her way up the long, tree-lined drive to the large mansion Shelaine called home. Arabel felt somewhat guilty, thinking of her friend. She’d barely seen her in ages and there was so much Arabel could no longer share with her. At least not right now, anyhow. Maybe in the future, when the rampant evil was laid to rest, Arabel could come clean with her friend and tell her of the adventures she’d been experiencing. For now however, Arabel would need to remain as vague as possible. She wanted to protect Shelaine and she was concerned that if Shelaine possessed the knowledge of what was occurring, it could perhaps bring evil to her doorstep as well. Arabel would do everything possible to avoid that outcome.

             
Arabel’s mind set itself to wandering and she pondered the response she’d gotten from Mireille and Baltis last night when she’d inquired if they thought any of the fever victims had had ties to the dark magic of the Dorojenja, or any other sort of black wizardry. Neither of Eli’s parents had answered right away and Arabel was not certain they had told her everything they knew. Despite their fondness for Arabel, and their obvious willingness to help solve the mystery, and therefore destroy the evil which threatened all of them, Eli’s parents had been vague with their response and had only said that they did not think any of the stricken fever victims had been practitioners of the dark magic.

             
Something in their answer had not sat quite right with Arabel but she hadn’t realized it until just now. Puzzled, Arabel thrust the intrigue from her mind and was pleased by the distraction of the first view of Murphy Estates. Ira cawed loudly and flew off of Arabel’s shoulder, racing ahead of her toward the tall treetops by the stables, where a few of his feathered friends were already engaged in a morning cackle-fest. Arabel increased her pace and in a short while was outside of the stables as well.

             
Arabel spied Eli in the paddock where he was working with some of the horses, putting them through their paces with his ingrained patience and kindness. Unobserved, Arabel watched Eli for a few moments, delighting in his easy manner with the great beasts, and the athletic grace of his movements. Arabel’s heart was filled with love and she made her way over to him, a smile lighting her beautiful face.

             
“Good morning,” Arabel called out and Eli turned at the sound of her voice.

             
His face broke out into the now familiar slow, honeyed grin and his eyes drank in the sight of her thirstily. As usual, Eli’s almond eyes saw everything and he moved to Arabel immediately to catch her in a quick embrace and to deliver a firm, scorching, and decisive kiss upon her waiting lips.

             
“A good morning, indeed, now that you’ve come along,” Eli replied, his eyes twinkling in humour. Arabel was pleased to see the troubled expression of yesterday had been banished from Eli’s countenance and he seemed easy again within himself.