Spirit Binder (4 page)

“The wards must have a soft spot here, because this is the last memory I have from before, so whatever happened then must have happened here.”

“I … I …” He seemed thrown.

“Are you here to kidnap me again?”

“Kidnap? Why … no, absolutely not.” He turned to address the unseen dreamwalker. “She seems confused. She doesn’t recognize me.”

His image wavered. “I’m losing hold,” the Dreamwalker complained. “It’s hard enough carrying you, but the wards are almost impossible to hold open.”

“Theo!” He reached for her; there was nothing icy or hard about him now. “Where are you? Here? Are you here in the castle that contains this ballroom? Has she got you? Are you hurt?”

“Who are you?” Theo asked, even though she understood she was supposed to know the answer already.

“She doesn’t know me,” he whispered, and dropped his hands as if sorrow had swept through his limbs.

Then he disappeared.

∞

She woke up with the name “Ren” on her lips and Peony’s concerned face hovering over her bed. “Oh! You’re awake! Good. How do you feel? Do you hurt anywhere?”

“My brain. My brain hurts.”

“I can’t heal you there. There’s no wound to close … you just have to wait.” Peony looked upset and turned away after pressing a cup of minty tea into Theo’s hands. She cupped the mug and sank back into the down pillows, not realizing that she’d been ready to spring forward … to where? After the dream man? And to what end? To fight or to follow?

Peony puttered, tidying and sorting, over a table cluttered with herbs and liquids. She wasn’t accustomed to having someone so near all the time, even though, as adolescents, Peony had been the closest friend she’d ever had.

“You’re not my servant,” she snapped, before she could correct her tone.
 

Peony looked aghast. “I am forever in your service, my lady.”

“That’s not … I’m sorry, but that’s not what I meant. It’s just you’re cleaning.”

Peony straightened to her full height, and, though she was making eye contact with Theo’s left shoulder rather than her eyes, said firmly, ”I, Peony, daughter of Jamin, counsellor to the Apex, and healer of Lady Theodora, spirit predestined … and … and …” Peony faltered over the many titles used to describe Theo, not sure which ones to add.

“It’s fine, Peony. I’m sorry. I don’t want … could you just call me Theo?”

“Theo?” Peony clearly wasn’t a fan of this informality.

“Yes. We were once friends, weren’t we?”

“Absolutely, my lady … Theo … sorry.”

“I’m going to see my mother,” Theo sighed, and changed the subject to what had been nagging her since she’d woken from the dream. She was going to have to go to her mother, who was obviously not going to come to her. She wondered if she had to formally request an audience with her own mother, though that would probably cross some line, and Theo had never been completely sure where those lines were drawn.

“Oh. Really? Well … if you think that’s best.”

“Obviously you don’t.”

“Your mother … your mother is …”

“Formidable?”

“Yes.”

“She won’t hurt me.”

“Definitely not! That’s not what I —”

“I know. I’m just reassuring myself.”

∞

The scars were faded further this morning. Theo gathered that Peony was still working on correcting all her “bad heals”, as the blonde had put it, while pursing her lips prettily but disapprovingly. The clothes in the wardrobe fit this time, which made her wonder how much time had passed during this second black-out session, but, it seemed that, given enough money, even a princess’s wardrobe could be partly filled in three days. She selected the plainest dress she could find; a green, unadorned silk. She avoided a headpiece that was obviously designed to go with it.

Thus girded, she headed off to confront, or rather, converse, with her mother. Mindset was exceedingly important when approaching Her Majesty, Rhea Ruden, Apex of Cascadia, who could crumple the strongest man with a single look. Though the look was usually accompanied by the magic of a mind mage, so that certainly contributed to the crumpling and fear-inducing reputation.

∞

“And here I thought you were avoiding me.” Her mother looked up from the pile of papers on her desk. Though the glasses were new, the ten years hadn’t seemed to have touched her mother in any other way.

“Yes, mother. All the healing was just a pretense.”

Her mother always bit her lip — slightly — when she was upset, though there was a good chance that Theo was the only one who noticed such things. Well, her and the Chancellor; nothing got by Hugh’s father’s notice. Her intimate knowledge of her mother’s facial expressions wasn’t due to any keen observational skills on her part, but rather that she was probably the only person who didn’t automatically do the Apex’s bidding. As Apex, her mother had earned her people’s respect, but even respected spiritual leaders had rotten children, as it seemed to be in her case.

“Theodora,” her mother resignedly breathed.

“Yes.” She wasn’t ready to drop the testiness.

“I am genuinely pleased you are home and whole.”

“In body.”

“Yes.”

“And I suppose you have everyone working on my little memory lag.”

“Unquestionably.”

“Wouldn’t you be better suited to aid me? Or is it beneath you to help heal your own daughter?”

Her mother, for all her stature and composure, started to play with the papers on her desk — busy work — this was so human, and such mundane behavior, that it unsettled Theo. It made her rethink her attack position. What could be so terrible to break her mother’s facade? What could shake the unshakeable?

“I’m not going to get it back, am I?”

“It’ll just take time, darling.” Her mother still wouldn’t meet her eyes, so Theo opened up her senses, just a little, to taste the truth of her mother’s words. Rhea’s head snapped up instantly, and invisible girders locked into place around her mother’s mind. These shields were so strong they might even enclose the immediate vicinity. Once again her mother’s power awed her, and she felt the need to apologize.

“I was just trying to assess —”

“I’m your mother. I tell you what you need to know, when you need to know it. I will not allow you to be compromised … not again.”

Which was not the same as simply telling her the truth, but she didn’t say it … not with all of her mother’s direct attention on her … oh, she knew how it felt for others to be in her mother’s presence and that it wasn’t the same for her; she had a natural immunity, as all family members usually did, but still, Rhea was her mother, and the power of that title was also weighty.

All of a sudden, she wanted more than just approval and pride from her mother. She wanted the comfort and solace that others found in Rhea’s presence. She felt a little of the ice shield, so firmly packed around her heart, crack.

“Mom.”

And then her mother was wrapping her arms around her. Theo remembered the smell of her neck and her hair from the precious moments of being held as a child, before her powers had made it difficult for them to touch. She cried and clung to her mother like a child … at least her tears were silent …
 

“Mom,” she choked.

“I know.”

“Mom,” she repeated, and the sound came out as a sob.

“I know. I’m here.”

Then she was on her knees and all the pain was pouring from her. Her mother was taking it all, gathering it all up like she would tidy a messy collection of toys, and soothing it away, or as away as it could be when it felt like she was missing half her life.

“There’s a block in my mind. You could take it away,” she pleaded between sobs.

Her mother’s fingers stilled their smoothing of Theo’s hair, and she instantly missed the sensation.

“No, darling. You know it will give way gradually —”

“I don’t want to wait.”

“It could kill you, to have it all back at once, even if I had the ability to break it.” Her mother pulled back, and with fingers so light they were barely touching, she smoothed the tears off Theo’s face. “Please, darling. Trust me?”

Yes. She so wanted to trust anyone, but especially her mother. She wanted to feel safe, loved, protected … but how could she trust without a full understanding —
 

“It’s a leap of faith, Theodora,” her mother answered her unvoiced question. “You must trust in the very spirit that is you. You must trust that that spirit will protect you, and you must let me guide you until you yourself are the guide.”

There it was; the answer she’d known she’d get. The answer she always got to any of the monumental life questions; trust in your destiny.

Destiny. Faith. Spirit.

“So it was my destiny to be stolen from my home on my sixteenth birthday? To be held and treated in such a manner that my body is hardened and scarred? And then to have those ten years, as terrible as they must have been, stripped away in a single breath?”

Her mother rose and crossed to the windows. These looked south, across the valley and toward the great rebuilt city beyond. She remained on her knees and didn’t take her eyes off her mother. No matter how childish it was, she wanted to lash out, to hurt her mother as she was hurting, to break through and take the answers she was certain her mother had and refused to share.

“Just tell me. Tell me what you know.”

Her mother sighed and slumped a little. She raised a hand to her face but then thought better of rubbing her eyes and in that moment, Theo saw what the missing ten years looked like on her mother; the changes were subtle, tiny lines around the eyes, maybe a slight thinning of the famous vibrant red hair and her hands, her hands looked almost fragile. Not how she remembered them …

“Tell you what I know? You are as demanding as ever.” This last was said with a twist of a smile. “Come up off the floor. Is that carpet following you?”

“No,” she lied, because she liked the carpet. Her mother raised one perfectly sculpted eyebrow, recognizing the obvious lie without needing any of her telepathy.

She wiped her remnant tears, rose, and sat in a chair across from her mother’s desk. Future spiritual leaders of world didn’t wallow … much. It took a while for her mother to speak, as if she was formulating her thoughts, but Theo hoped it was more in an attempt to gain some emotional equilibrium, rather than time spent calculating her upcoming manipulation of the truth.

“I know someone took you. Someone powerful enough to open doors in unbreakable wards, or at least wield the borrowed magic in order to do so. Someone powerful enough to hold you, and thwart my every ability to find you. Then someone trained you, as is obvious by your physique, and either turned you against me or compromised your mind, because you then, after being missing for ten years, led an assault against this castle, three days ago. Granted, I came to Hollyburn early this year, so perhaps the goal wasn’t the forfeit of my life, but still …” Her mother trailed off, as if consumed by her own thoughts. Theo itched to prompt her narrative, but managed to stay quiet. “Your fellow assassins, if that’s what they were, must have fled, for we found no trace of them in the tunnel. Though, perhaps I am leaping to conclusions. Perhaps you came alone. The castle is defended by intricate wards that predate me by hundreds of years.”

“And there’s a demon in the basement.”

Her mother turned to look at her, surprised but not surprised. “You saw him?”

“He thought about eating me, but settled for slurping up all the blood.”

This seemed to unsettle her mother for a moment, as if she now had to readjust her perception of the events. “I see. That explains the lack of … trace evidence. He came with the castle, and, ah, decided he’d like to stay when I asked him to leave. I am pleased he didn’t make you a snack, even as I must admit to being pleased he provided an extra defense, intentionally or not. His loyalty is not mine. It is disturbing that he consumed your blood.” Rhea started to wander over to a warded book shelf. “I should consult with Jamin.”

“Then what happened?” Theo prompted quickly, so she didn’t lose her mother’s focus.

“Ah. Yes, well … then you triggered a spell. A spell I had painstakingly constructed for you, a spell to bring you back to me, just in case this had been his plan all along.”

“His plan?”

“Dougal.” Dougal? She’d only ever met him once … that she could remember, the evening before her sixteenth birthday. Her mother had barely spoken to him all through the meal, though he was seated at Rhea’s right, a spot formally reserved for Chancellor Madoc, who hadn’t been in attendance at dinner that evening. Lord Dougal Rudan, Chief of the Cascadian Guards, Chancellor of the Midlands. Her mother’s brother. Her uncle. “The only man, the only person of whom I know could take you, and keep you from me all these years. He was actually here by invitation. I had thought to use the opportunity to mend some old wounds.”

“But if you knew he had me …”

“I could never prove it.”

“And the spell? It’s the backlash that’s caused the memory loss?”

“Or, if he had you under spell to keep you with him, it’s interference. My spell was powerful enough to overcome his, perhaps.”

“But not without consequences.”

“Yes. It seems. I am sorry.”

“Why do you think it’s your brother? Does he want to be Apex?”

Her mother laughed harshly, and very unspiritualy. “No. He doesn’t think we should be governed by Spirit. He believes magic is a tool, not a way of life.”

“And, because of my prophecy …”

“Yes, his interpretation of your prophecy was always different from mine. I just didn’t know he’d … had I known, I would have … I would have … I didn’t know.”

“How could you not know?”

“He’s strong, agile, a master sword-fighter, practically invulnerable with incredible healing powers.”

“But not a mind mage, just a magic wielder.”

“Yes, but it would be foolish to underestimate him even if he does not possess our type of power. We share the same blood, we are in fact … twins.”

Twins. That was news. She’d known her mother had two siblings. Almost every history lesson ended with the Apex’s glorious unification of Cascadia under the Worship of Spirit. This unification was brought about by Rhea, her brother Dougal, and their sister, Rowen. But if siblings were rare, twins were unheard of, though, supposedly, it hadn’t always been so. Stories of the Before spoke of the overpopulation of the Vanquished, who all but destroyed everything they needed to survive. And still now those without magic, or the Lackings, bore more offspring than those with magic … Theo pulled her thoughts back to the ramifications of Dougal as Rhea’s twin.