Sorceress of Faith (63 page)

Marian took a seat on the old, soft sofa, sinking into the
cushions, leaning back. GoldenRaven closed the room's door and re-lit some of
the candles.

"Close your eyes," GoldenRaven said and Marian did.

She relaxed as she'd learned to do, allowing the flow of
GoldenRaven's voice to carry her into that state where her body was very heavy,
but her mind was clear. Marian had told herself that she wasn't really losing
control, GoldenRaven couldn't make Marian do anything she didn't want to. She
knew this. More, she trusted GoldenRaven, sensing an ethical woman. Marian had
run across enough scams and cons in her exploration of New Age classes to know
when a voice didn't sound true.

Thinking of music brought the chimes and chants flooding through
her mind. GoldenRaven must have turned on her system again, but that didn't
explain why Marian kept hearing the music outside of class—when she was
dropping into sleep, or awakening, or even when her mind got caught in a
daydream. Must be some sort of conditioning, some lingering game her mind
played to send her into the meditative state.

"Why do you continue to take classes like Finding Your Totem
Animal, Introduction to the Tarot, Feng Shui, Wiccan 101? Not just for your
goal of being a professor of Comparative Religion, I'm sure. Why?"
GoldenRaven asked softly.

Marian had told the class of all her other studies during the
introductory portion. "Because I'm interested in all those."

"Because the magic you feel inside you pulls you to such studies
Now sink into your core, visualize a root going from the base of your spine
through the couch, through the floor and deep into the earth of our world. What
do you feel, Marian?"

"I hear an ancient, intricate song," Marian said,
confessing for the first time that this melody had been with her for a long,
long time, ever since she could remember. And still it throbbed with beautiful
rhythm. As she focused on it the chimes and chant and occasional gong seemed to
lift and diminish. Interesting trick.

"A song? Hmmmm," GoldenRaven said, and Marian heard the
nuances in her voice, too, the initial surprise, the amusement. She was acutely
aware of the sounds in the room, the house—the small rush of a table fountain,
the tiny hiss of flames as they ate candles. The mewing of a cat upstairs.

"You love this song?" asked GoldenRaven?

What wasn't to love? "Of course."

The song surged and for one shining instance Marian felt
completely whole, completely accepted and loved. Total joy nearing ecstasy.

"That is your connection to Mother Earth, Marian, and just a
part of your magic. Don't you sense the winds that swirl around our world, and
fire of the molten core, and tides of her oceans?"

"Yes," Marian breathed.

A distant clomping of male footsteps down the stairs broke the
moment.

"Time to end this exercise. I will count from ten to
one...." GoldenRaven continued with the patter that pulled Marian from her
alternative mental state. The ceiling light flicked on, brightening the light
beyond her eyelids.

"If you want to fulfill your true potential, and what scholar
does not, you must find another teacher. One who will help you with your
control and need for perfection issues."

Marian flushed. "Are you starting a new class, soon?"
Marian was sure that the Native American spirituality that GoldenRaven taught
wasn't what she was looking for, but the woman was the best New Age teacher
Marian had ever had.

"I'm afraid not. As a matter of fact, WoodElk and I have
decided that we aren't really 'mountain' people. We miss deciduous forests. So
we're heading to the West Coast, Oregon or Washington." She shrugged.
"Wherever Spirit takes us."

Marian bit her lip. "I need to talk with you."

The older woman returned her gaze to Marian. "I'm sorry, but
it's impossible. We can talk a little now, but otherwise, it
will be a while before I'll be
settled. There's email, of course."

"I'm having trouble with my meditation. I hear things."
She waved. "A gong, chimes, chants." She hadn't wanted to blurt out
her problems, but didn't see any choice. And she'd had her hearing checked at
the student health center. Nothing was wrong with her ears. She felt as normal
mentally as usual, and sensed the problem wasn't one a psychologist could help.

GoldenRaven's eyes widened. She tilted her head. "Then
perhaps you should quit for the moment."

"But this thing you said was inside me—" Magic.
"Shouldn't I continue? My path—" Marian's tongue felt thick,
unaccustomed confusion stopped her.

"We didn't determine your Path, Marian," GoldenRaven's
voice mellowed, lowered as if comforting. "We only agreed that your Path
and mine are not the same. My training would not fill your needs." She
grasped Marian's arm, then stiffened, her eyes going blank and unfocused.

Marian realized then that this was really why she'd come to
GoldenRaven, because the woman was a brilliant forecaster, because Marian
wanted to be told what to do, what direction to go instead of trying to figure
it out on her own.

Understanding her own motives made her feel guilty, but not guilty
enough to break away.

"The full moon. Three days." GoldenRaven sucked in a
breath and stepped back from Marian, breaking the physical connection. She
shook her head, then met Marian's eyes. "I don't know what it means."
GoldenRaven lifted her hands in a helpless gesture. "I can't tell you.
Except that this full moon ritual is very important for you. It will free your
magic. Life changing. For you
and
your brother. Ask for your teacher
then." She opened her mouth, then shut it and shook her head again.
"No, I should not tell you even if I could. I'm sorry, Marian. Go now, and
Blessings upon you." With a little duck of her head she glided from the
room.

Marian barely saw her go. She had never mentioned her brother,
Andrew, to GoldenRaven or anyone in the class. Automatically, Marian picked up
her bag, emotions churning inside her. Her feet didn't work well. She stumbled
from the living room, over the threshold of the house.

The cold night, wind slapping at her, whipping her long hair into
tiny lashes across her face, only increased her inner chill. Though she walked
fast, she couldn't prevent shivers.

She might have shrugged off the continuing auditory illusions,
might have ignored GoldenRaven's advice to find another teacher. Might have
continued to "dabble" in New Age spirituality on her way to receiving
her doctorate in Comparative Philosophies and Religion. But she would
never
ignore any threat to her brother.

If a full moon ritual was that important to him, she'd do
it. And take it seriously by God
—
or by All The Powers That Were.

Sorceress of Faith, Cut Scene-Jaquar

All rights reserved;
copyright © Robin D. Owens. The text contained within may not be reproduced in
whole or in part or distributed in any form whatsoever OR SOLD without first
obtaining permission from the author.

T
his is one of the
first scenes I wrote
—
as you can see, much change occurred in the story.
Jaquar has not suffered the loss of his parents and the sangvile that killed
them was still on the move. I actually toyed with putting this in the end of
Guardian of Honor or as a preview of Sorceress of Faith.

***

The next day, Jaquar leaned back in his seat in the amphitheater
on Parteger Island and watched the show. All thirty of the sorcerers and sorceresses
who lived in towers on the islands off Lladrana had showed up except the
greatest—and oldest—Bossgonde. And most of them were down in the
stage-pentagram area in the middle arguing. It was
supposed
to be a
rational debate as to whether to have the Marshalls Summon an exotique for the
Towers—and when.

He looked on the scene with mild amusement. They couldn't get
along, the "discussion" had deteriorated into raking over old
insults, but he'd rather be among this outspoken, individual bunch than with
the Marshalls, whose politics were among friends and quietly nasty.

Just as well the acrimony was taking place down in the middle, the
magic would prevent any sorcerous duels and the pentagram would be soaking up
all the excess energy and storing it. Just as well he was up here instead of
down there, too, or he'd be word-slinging with the rest of them.

Jacquar felt sure that the others agreed with him that they would
need the Exotique. Anyone with the slightest foresight knew that the next step
in the fight to save their land—their world, fell to the Towers. His fellows
weren't even quibbling about the price—essentially a library of spell books
concerning the weapon and battle magic and the horrors that invaded.
Were
sent to invade
Lladrana. Every sorcerer worth his or her salt had extra
copies of those books already. Price wasn't an issue.

When
was a bit of a concern—there were five more times the dimensional
link would be made with the Exotique land over the next year and a half. He
held the opinion that the very next Summoning should be theirs. No opportunity
should be missed.

His mouth grimmed. He sensed they would need every chance and
every Exotique they could Summon. The soul of his world, Amee, was struggling,
weak, and they must ensure it lived.

He closed his eyes and imagined himself on his island, in his
Tower, sitting at his desk. He wafted a sheet of paper onto his desk, uncapped
the purple inkbottle and picked up the pen to compose a note to the Marshalls.
"Your price for Summoning an Exotique to work with the Towers will be
met."

Then, he listed the books they'd receive. The best, the most
important—not too many that they wouldn't read or cherish them, but if he
gauged the thirst for knowledge by the loremarshall, Bastien and Alexa right,
they'd be used. And he wasn't giving them enough time to refuse what the
Marshalls needed.

Jaquar attached a standard list of qualities needed for an
apprentice, and ended. "She must be of wide and flexible mind, must have
the twelve tones of power." Alexa had had ten, and ten was fine for a
Marshall, but the Towers would need twelve.

Frowning, he wondered if the Marshalls normally counted the tones
of power. Then he shrugged. The Marshalls would use his letter and the
qualifications for their Summoning spell, and when the chant went out to the
Exotique land, the proper one would respond. He rippled distance and placed the
paper on the loremarshalls desk with a little spell that it be discovered at
the correct moment.

Smack!
The sound jerked his attention back to the amphitheater to see a
red hand mark on Charlmon's face. Jaquar winced in sympathy, that must hurt.
Venetria stood in front of Charlmon, hair rumpled, magnificent bosom heaving.
Jaquar deeply admired Venetria's looks and skills, as did most of the younger
sorcerers, none of them was fool enough to mix in the love-hate relationship
between Charlmon and the lady.

Jaquar's mind drifted back to the love between his parents he'd
seen the night before. That was what most wanted—a matched pairing. The love of
the couple who loved each other and rescued him from the streets of Sparee
City, brought him into the warm circle of their love, was what had saved him.

Unfortunately the relationship between Charlmon and Venetria was
what most sorcerers and sorceresses got.

Jacquar stood and projected his voice. "Has this quarreling
deteriorated to pointlessness? For myself, I want the Exotique Summoned, and at
the next proper conjunction of moon and stars. I am willing to pay the
price."

"And get an Exotique of incredible power for an
apprentice," a sorceress said.

Jacquar smiled. That was what most of the fighting had been about,
who would carry the new Exotique off to their Tower.

"I think we should consider this whole topic most
carefully," quavered an old man and Jaquar wasn't sure which of the trio
of minor sorcerers spoke.

Smiling, Jaquar said. "Consider all you want. That is my
opinion and the option I cast my vote for. As for having the Exotique as an
apprentice, I would imagine that would depend on his or her power bent."
He lied. From what he could tell, Alexa could have turned her hand to any sort
of magic, and he'd wager the new Exotique would be strong enough to do the
same.

"But Summoning the Exotique is not the only item of
discussion. There's the matter of a loose sangvile, and an upcoming
battle." He'd shared the feycoocu's sight of the sangvile attacking Alexa
and the words it had said to Alexa. "My forecasting has not shown a
battle, but it is not my best magic." No lie there.

Silence thundered.

Charlmon took Venetria's hand, kissed her fingers, brought her
close, then glanced up to Jaquar. "If we are to discuss blood and battle,
I would prefer to be in a warm hall with wine and mead."

"I take it your forecasting showed the battle then."

Charlmon jerked his head. "Of course. It was a hovering smear
a couple of days ago. Now it's a deep, jagged line on my forecast chart. My
island and Tower is closest, let's adjourn to it."