Powerful Magic (29 page)

          
"Yes."
 
He chuckled, the shadows making his face look decades younger.
 
"I know Rhiannon, Queen of Rune.
 
Someday I hope to look upon her lovely face again."

          
Wanting to squirm on her stool, Megan forced herself to hold still.
 
She hadn't spoken, yet he'd answered the question she'd only thought.
 
"Can you read my mind?"

          
"No child.
 
But there are things I know."

          
"How?"
 
Interested despite herself, Megan leaned forward.

          
He tilted his head, appearing to consider her question.
 
"Thoughts are patterns."
 
He said finally.
 
"As are deeds, and wishes."

          
"And dreams?"

          
"Those too I can sometimes see."

          
Since she had nothing to lose, she decided to be blunt.
 
"Can you help me get back home?"

          
He laughed, a dry chuckle.
 
"You are home."
 

          
His cryptic answer made no sense. Rhiannon had said the same thing.

          
"Am I even on earth?"
 
With all the magic and other weird things that had been happening, she wouldn't have been
surprised to find out she'd space traveled as well as time
traveled.
 

          
"Place is relative."

          
"Please."
 
If this man knew the truth, she had to get it from him.

          
He sighed, giving her look full of enigmatic sorrow.
 
"Though it may seem at the whim of fate, everything happens for a reason.
 
Your coming has been foretold for ages.
 
You and Kenric of Blackstone are the stuff of legends."

          
That made no sense. But since she'd been able to make very little sense out of anything that had happened to her since she'd gone to meet Roger, Megan shrugged it off.
 
Desperate times called for desperate measures.
 

          
"Please.
 
I need to know if you can help me return."

          
His silence seemed almost a refusal.
 
Behind him the candles flickered, the light wavering, the shadows dancing.
          

          
Why would no one help her?
 
Not counting the evil Myrddin, she'd met two supposedly magical beings since she'd been here - Kenric's sister and this man - and neither one of them seemed the least inclined to assist her.
 
What she couldn't figure out was why not.
 
   
It must have to do with this legend nonsense that both Rhiannon and Ed seemed to believe so implicitly.
 
Odd how Kenric didn't seem to know he was a legendary figure.
 

          
Gorgeous, magical Kenric.
 
She started.
 
For the first time it occurred to her to wonder if Kenric could use this magic she'd seen in him to catapult her back into the future where she belonged.
 
When she was ready to go, that is.
 
She'd have to ask him when he got here to rescue her.
 

          
Somehow, she knew he would.
 
Whatever else he might be, Kenric of Blackstone was a man who was true to his word.
 
He would be here.
 
Now all she had to do was find out if this ancient man, this Edmyg whose name meant honor, meant them any harm.

          
Raising her head, she found him watching her.
 

          
"What do you want with Kenric?" she asked.

          
"That is between him and me."
 
The old man said, his sharp eyes glinting with something close to amusement.
 
           
"Fine."
 
Disgusted, Megan turned away and pretended to study the intricate tapestry on the wall.
 
"I don't know why I even bother to ask, since no one around here will give me a straight answer."

          
Ed chuckled.
 
"All will be revealed in time, child."
 

          
Time.
 
The very word was enough to send shivers down her spine.
 
Since she had nothing to lose at this point, she decided to try again.
 

          
"Do you know about me, where I'm from?"

          
He gave an immediate nod, his gaze sharp.
 

          
"Then you know how I got here?"

          
"Lightening."
 
He told her promptly, smiling a pleased smile.
 
"And the sacred tree.
 
Two lightening strikes in the exact same place, though many years separated them."

          
Two?
 
Had this happened to someone else? If so,
 
it dawned on her how awfully old that oak tree must be.
 
But no, it made no sense.
 
If she was in Wales, she was a continent away.

          
Deciding to argue, she tilted her head.
 
"It couldn't have been in the same place.
 
I was in Texas, now it seems we're in Wales.
 
How can this be?"

          
His eloquent shrug told her that he had said all he was going to say on the matter.
 

          
"Is it even possible to go back?"
 
She held her breath waiting for the answer on this one, though the odds were against him even bothering to answer at all.

          
"Anything is possible.
 
Though your destiny is here."
 

          
Another riddle.
 
Megan decided she was beginning to hate them.
 
"Am I a prisoner here?"

          
Ed laughed at this, a dry and raspy sound that turned into a cough.
 
"A prisoner?
 
More likely an honored guest."

          
She wondered.
 
"Lord Brighton doesn't think so."

          
He nodded wisely.
 
"Ah, but he will.
 
Once we have you outfitted as befits a woman of your stature, he will be

surprised and pleased.
 
Though a good man, he never was one for looking beyond the surface to the beauty below."

          
Inordinately pleased that this wise old man thought her beautiful, it wasn't until much later that Megan thought to wonder what he had meant by the phrase "a woman of your stature".

#

          
As soon as first golden fingers of sunlight began to lighten the sky, Kenric climbed on his war horse and resumed his headlong rush of a ride.
 
The night before he'd ridden until he could no longer ride upright.
 
Finally, he'd had to rest, knowing he would be of no use to anyone were he all but reeling with fatigue.
 
Though rest had been a forlorn hope; his sleep had been fitful at best.
 
All during the night he had been unable to shake a sense of pending disaster.
 
Megan was in trouble, trouble that somehow he had created.
 
Though he had no doubt he would find her, he could only hope he would be quick enough to save her.

          
The few hours rest seemed to have refreshed the war horse.
 
He charged forward with renewed purpose.
 
The closer they rode towards the keep, the more desolate the landscape seemed.
 
Parched and barren ground gradually replaced the lush greenness of the empty countryside.
 
What trees there were - and there were few - had knarled and knotted bark and sparse, dry husks for leaves.
 
He saw no beasts here.
 
No cattle or goats or even the occasional wild dog.
 
Even the birds seemed to absent themselves from this place.

          
Kenric thought it odd that he came across no village nor any people of any kind.
 
Twas his experience that the wealthier the Lord, the more serfs he had dependent on him.
 
Unless this Lord was only recently installed, one of those like his family, valued Englishmen who had been granted Welsh land by the King in exchange for some sort of service or favor.
 

          
The possibility that the very kind of man he most despised might have Megan for a prisoner chilled Kenric to his bones.
 
That, coupled with the fact that some kind of misguided magic of his own making had sent her here, worried him doubly.
 

          
The closer he got to his goal, the more intense the feeling of foreboding became.

          
When at last he sighted the keep, perched like some overweight stone gargoyle on the top of the desolate hill, he reined in the war horse and stared long and hard at it.
 

          
The horse, until now stolid and steadfast, seemed to sense his growing unease and tried to turn back in the direction from which they'd come.
 
With a heavy heart, Kenric restrained him.
 
           

          
"We go forward."
 
he muttered, wondering at himself.
 
Never before had he felt this uneasy, this knawing sense of wrongness.
 
The stark grimness of the landscape, combined with the slumbering evil he sensed in the air, made this a place to avoid.

          
No tenants, no farms.
 
Not even a herd or two of sheep or cattle.
 
Something was wrong here, something that most likely lay within the realm of magic rather than the real world he preferred to inhabit.
 

          
Magic.
 
He grew weary of the very word.
 
Ever since he had found Megan in his cave, he had been around more magic that ever before in his life.
 
He would be glad when this quest was over and he could settle on his land, an ordinary man once more.
 

          
Then he thought of Megan's eyes, her beautiful amber eyes, and wondered if he would ever be ordinary again.

          
The slate stone of the castle seemed to glow in the setting sun.
 
It was a somber, yet strangely beautiful place, though its very comeliness seemed to mock him.
 
What kind of trickery lay within?
 
And, more importantly, what did Lady Megan of Dallas have to do with it?

#

          
After her meeting with Edmyg, Megan was led to the upper floor of the castle and taken to her room.
 
The young servant girl who showed her the way told her she should be honored, as this was the former sleeping chamber of Lord Brighton's daughter, married but two fortnights past.
 

          
Though it was nothing like her beautiful room in Rune, Megan sank down gratefully on the lumpy bed, letting her eyes drift closed and trying to dispel the worried feelings that still churned inside of her.

          
Where was Kenric?
 
She knew as surely as the sun would set that he would look for her.
 
And, once he found her and came to this place, would he be safe?

          
Could Myrddin be watching them even now?

          
She let her eyes drift closed again and fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

          
As she woke, muddled and full of a nameless longing, two more serving women arrived, claiming they were here to help her get ready for the evening meal.
 
Crossing the room, they opened an ornate chest and began pulling out dress after dress after dress.