Not Your Average Love Spell, page 9
Yes, a contact. That’s all they were to each other, and Camille knew she shouldn’t romanticize it. The awkward silence felt warm with hopes dashed.
“Is that all?” the Hawk asked after a moment.
Camille sighed, trying to tell herself that the Hawk was a busy witch. Hadn’t she just said that transportation spells took a lot of time and energy? And since they didn’t know exactly what Sir Robert planned to do, the Hawk no doubt had other preparations to make.
“Yes,” Camille said. “I’m looking forward to seeing what happens tomorrow.”
“I’ll try to make it entertaining.” Still sarcastic, but her words also had a humorous edge.
“And I look forward to speaking to you again and to one day sharing hugs and air kisses,” Camille said.
After a braying laugh with a huge snort following, the Hawk cut the contact. Camille laughed, too, delighted by the fact that the Hawk might have retreated because that snort was incredibly embarrassing.
* * *
Rowena sat back from the crystal ball even though she’d dismissed the image. She had a strange fear that Camille could still see her even though Rowena was the one with the power.
Where in the world had that snort come from? She’d sounded like a pig in heat. She rubbed her temples. Why did just speaking with Camille put her on edge?
And why did she offer to help Camille get home? That wasn’t part of the plan, but worry had leaped into her mind. Then her annoyance at the lack of planning had faded in the face of Camille’s anger. Seemed they both felt their lives were somewhat beyond their control at the moment. A familiar feeling and one she couldn’t ignore in a…
Friend?
Since when did she care about making friends?
Since Ember had mentioned the buggery concept, of course.
Rowena nearly leaped out of her chair. Now wasn’t the time for pondering. As she strode into the workroom, she felt Ember nearby. Ever since their argument, Ember had left her blessedly alone, though Rowena felt a little guilty now.
“Want to help?” she called.
Ember peeked around the door. Her hair was neatly combed, something she did only for important occasions. Rowena felt the anticipation running through her and winced. Ember had been hoping that Rowena would call for her? Guilt piled atop guilt.
“Here, take these feathers and put them at the four compass points,” Rowena said.
Ember took the bag of feathers and the compass. Her tongue poked out of her mouth as she concentrated on placing a long feather on the floor’s chalk circle, then consulted the compass again and moved the feather ever so slightly.
“Feathers because…” Rowena said.
“Creatures of the wind for movement,” Ember said, not taking her eyes off her task.
Rowena beamed proudly. She consulted a book that lay on the table amidst a jumble of ingredients and reagents. It was an old book of spells she’d annotated over the years. The original version of the transport spell called for freshly killed birds at the compass points, but Rowena found that feathers worked just as well, and nothing had to die. Her way required more energy from her and therefore a longer recovery time, but her energy replenished itself. The birds couldn’t spontaneously resurrect after a few days.
Not that they appreciated it. She’d had to putty quite a few bird bites in the husks sent to collect discarded feathers from the mountain-dwelling raptors.
“Ungrateful buggers,” Rowena muttered as she set candles between the symbols drawn inside the circle.
“Flame for its speed,” Ember said. “I don’t remember why we need ungrateful buggers.” Her grin said she was joking, but it wasn’t so long ago that she would have been serious.
“You’ve come a long way,” Rowena said, fighting the desire to get emotional. Too many bloody things were happening. “You could start practicing on your own if you wanted.”
Ember shook her head emphatically. “Too much sitting.”
Rowena chuckled. Learning how to meditate and harness one’s life energy did require too much sitting. That was probably the real reason the knights hated creation magic. Turning one’s negative emotions into destruction magic was so much easier.
But it was still magic.
They worked for hours to complete the preparations. Transportation spells were difficult. The fact that she had to move so many living somethings—and have them remain alive—added to the difficulty tenfold.
And if it went wrong, they could all get scattered to the ends of the world or wind up inside it.
No pressure.
Thankfully, she’d cast this spell before, though there were more knights than there’d been pirates, and she wasn’t bringing the knights here. One of her contacts near the border had scouted a desolate arrival location.
The spell would be so much easier if she were standing at the sending or receiving end, but she couldn’t get in reach of Sir Robert, the bastard. So, she had to add diamond dust to the circle for permanence, and there went the money she’d been saving for a new stove. She needed copious amounts of limestone and red clay, the former being the most common stone found at the starting place close to Kingston, and the latter covering the end point. The rock would help ground the spell and keep the knights from being flung to the four corners, but she’d had to repurpose nearly every husk to gather and grind it up. She tiptoed among the piles of grit as she made her final check.
Now all it needed was her energy. Rowena yawned and stretched. Everything was fresh and should remain intact for a few hours while she—
A chime came from the other room. Someone was handling one of her crystal balls.
“Bugger, bugger, bugger,” she said as she stomped in that direction.
“You could ignore it and get some sleep,” Ember said.
“Ha. Since when?” She suspected who it would be as she concentrated. Sir Robert was trying to catch her on the hop.
“Hawk? Are you there?” Camille’s voice.
“It’s not even dawn,” Rowena said as she cleared the picture. Camille’s face was lit by a candle, which brought out her rounded cheeks and made her dark eyes flicker orange.
Camille yawned, making Rowena copy her. “Sir Robert wants to arrive at the border before dawn, so he wants to leave now.”
“Of course, he bloody does.” Rowena sighed. She’d pulled plenty of all-nighters ending in spellcasting. What was one more? Thwarting Sir Robert’s plans to kill her would at least give her sweet dreams later.
“He wants to know when you’re getting here,” Camille said with a smirk.
Rowena grinned. “Tell him soon, then have everyone who’s traveling pack themselves together as tightly as possible, a real squeeze.” She smiled wider. “Tell them to get as close as they would if chained below decks on a ship.”
Camille laughed, a sweet sound that begged to be heard again. “Okay.”
Rowena cut the line, went to the workroom, and sat on the floor at the northern point of the circle. At a light touch on her back, she turned.
Ember laid several pillows behind her. “In case you fall back afterward and just want to sleep.” The connection hummed with affection and concern and a hint of Ember’s guilt, no doubt from their spat.
Rowena squeezed her hand. “Thank you.” She faced the circle again and began her mental exercises, preparing to pull a bugger-load of energy out of herself, not for the bigoted egomaniac and his knights but for the lives they’d hopefully save.
* * *
Sydney’s heart wanted to pound out of her chest. She’d gone into battle many times and was used to the dry mouth and the sound of her pulse in her ears, but this was different. She was about to participate in magic. On purpose.
And Sir Robert expected her to clap the Hawk in irons as soon as she finished the spell. He’d even had his aide deliver a set of manacles to Sydney, and though he stood calmly at the head of their mashed-together company, she caught the occasional glance from the corner of his eyes.
The knights behind her shifted uneasily, and she was glad she stood near the outside of the mass. They stood in a large, open field of grass and little else. As instructed, the knights had tried to take up as little space as possible, and they couldn’t stay this way for long.
The Hawk was probably waiting at the border, and Sydney was supposed to leap on her right after the knights appeared. The Hawk would resist, and Sir Robert would expect Sydney to kill the person responsible for making sure the knights were able to defend their people. If Camille was right, he’d act mortified and denounce Sydney’s actions. He would lie, though she didn’t know how he’d manage it. Maybe he planned to have Sydney taken prisoner before she had a chance to accuse him. Camille had said he probably wanted to get rid of a too-honorable knight and rid himself of a dangerous witch in one go.
And rob the other knights of a fellow warrior just when they needed all the help they could get.
But what made him think he needed to get rid of Sydney in the first place? Did other officers suspect his dishonor? Had he committed other uncharitable acts? Maybe when his plan failed and she spoke out against him, a chorus of voices would agree.
No doubt the Hawk would be one of them. When Sydney made no move against her, Sir Robert would have to call for her death and reveal himself to be the kind of man who’d use someone and then kill them. Maybe he even hoped she would appear here to cast the spell, and he’d have Sydney attack her then.
Before she helped them? What good would that do?
Sydney swallowed, her throat so dry the movement hurt. Yes, she was more than a little nervous. There were just too many unanswered questions.
Camille stood off to the side of the squashed column, a lantern at her feet. Sydney smiled, sorry about the harsh words between them, about her worry for her reputation, and for having dragged Camille into all this in the first place. She hoped her look conveyed the apology she’d make on her return.
After a moment, Camille returned the smile, and it seemed a little apologetic, too. She was such a good person; she’d sulked the night before, but they were all stressed. When Sydney got home, she’d try harder to be whatever Camille wanted, and maybe Camille could look past the physical side of things and see…
What? Who Sydney really was? Besides a knight planning a coup against the leader she’d pledged her life to. Sydney didn’t even want to date herself at the moment.
She gasped as pain built in her temples, and her head throbbed as if she’d jumped in the ocean and sank too quickly. She could no longer hear her fellow knights, the snorting horses, or the creak of the wagons in the back.
The spell? She glanced around the empty field. The Hawk hadn’t appeared. Maybe at the back? Sydney pushed through her pain and stood on tiptoe but couldn’t see past everyone else. She looked to Sir Robert.
He stared at her, his gaze triumphant.
She tried to speak but couldn’t. Sir Robert pulled something from his pocket and tossed it in her direction. Without thinking, she lifted her hands to catch.
* * *
Rowena gasped. The spell had been going well, the energy flowing from her seamlessly, though it made her feel as if her lifeblood was leaking. She felt a small tug as if the spell was trying to move her, too, but that was normal. She just had to redirect that pull…
She yelped as the spell resisted, and she moved inches toward the circle, yanked by a powerful force. The circle glowed, the candles flaring. The pages of her books fluttered in an impossible breeze.
“What’s happening?” Ember yelled.
A howl built around them, echoing through the cavern, a moan building to a shriek.
“I don’t know.” Rowena redoubled her efforts, trying to focus the power that now wanted to rush from her and take her body along with it. She felt the knights begin to shift through space, but something was drawing her with them. She resisted, holding them in place, but now that the spell had begun, it wanted to finish. Spells in progress couldn’t be stopped by the caster. They took on a life of their own, especially the complicated ones. It was up to the witch to hold them to their purpose.
Even when it felt as if they were tearing her in half.
She closed her eyes and fought her rising panic. “Breathe, idiot, breathe,” she mumbled. She heard the voice of her old teacher in her ear. “You control the magic, not the other way around. It wants order; it wants to be directed.”
But now the magic felt as if it bloody well wanted her dead.
No, not dead, just moved. Last time she’d cast this spell, it hadn’t fought so hard. Maybe this was because she wasn’t at the departure or arrival end? No, that shouldn’t matter when she was using the right materials.
She was still holding the knights, knowing that if she sent them, she’d go with them, but she couldn’t hold them forever. She’d eventually appear in their midst, drained and weakened, and then Sir Robert would…
Rowena’s eyes snapped open. Sir Robert had to know she wouldn’t give up without a fight, even if she was weak. He was an ignorant man, but that didn’t mean he was stupid. He’d planned something to make her show herself.
On the other side of the circle, a person-shaped shimmer hovered in midair. Ember gaped at it. Rowena cursed. Someone was coming through, and Ember stood too close to the circle, close enough to be caught in the spell, and as she stared, she seemed confused and almost…happy.
“Ember, get back. Someone’s going to appear, and it might be a knight.”
How was Sir Robert doing any of this?
The answer came to her in her teacher’s voice again, a witchstone.
The bane of all magic, some witchstones drained a witch’s power and held them to one spot. Apparently, others could draw a witch to them. The person fighting to appear was no doubt the knight holding the stone, though it wouldn’t be cowardly Sir Robert himself. Rowena would either have to go to the knights, or the knights would come to her.
She had to get away from the circle, but as she tried to lean back, her body felt like solid lead. The witchstone pulled her forward, trying to push her into the circle to become part of the spell.
Rowena snarled. She clamped down on the energy leaving her body, wrestling with it to obey her and not the stone. She would not be moved, and she would not let this knight appear. Since she couldn’t stop the spell, she would complete it on her terms.
Or she’d die trying.
Rowena cried out as the witchstone fought her, twisting the magic. The spell didn’t care how it was being used as long as it was completed. She felt herself slipping.
“Ember,” she cried, “they’re using a witchstone. If a knight appears, stop them.”
* * *
Ember chewed her lip. She’d wanted a friend for Rowena, and when she’d seen the silhouette, she’d rejoiced. Here was a friend appearing from thin air.
But now Rowena was in pain. The magic wasn’t acting like it was supposed to, and Ember had to do something, but what? She’d planned to jump in the circle and move with the knights, but Rowena was straining away from the circle as it was pulling her, and she couldn’t go. The knights would kill her.
When she cried out for Ember to stop the knight trying to appear, Ember made up her mind. Rowena didn’t want a knight as a companion, she still wanted to move the knights, and she didn’t want to go with them. So, someone besides a knight had to appear here, the knights had to move, and someone else would have to go in Rowena’s place.
Ember grinned. Easy peasy.
She’d have to act fast.
Simple. She’d been born fast.
Ember backed up a few steps to Rowena’s side and leaped, shoving Rowena out of the way. She felt the spell pulling at her and gave herself up to it.
* * *
Camille shook the crystal ball. “Hawk, what’s happening?”
Still no answer. Most of the knights were on their knees, some shrieking, others holding their heads. Even Sir Robert was doubled over in pain, so if this was his doing, he hadn’t thought it through.
Sydney stood unfazed at the edge of the press, holding a stone to her chest and gaping at those around her. Like the rest of the knights, she stood engulfed in a shimmery haze that roared like a living thing.
“Sydney,” Camille shouted, stepping closer. “Are you all right?”
Sydney looked as mystified as Camille felt. Her lips moved, but Camille couldn’t hear her. She stepped closer. “What?”
With a pop like a cork leaving a bottle, a woman appeared in front of the column. Even though Camille had never gotten a good look, this couldn’t be the Hawk. Her dusky red hair was too short, and a long scar bisected her face. She looked at Camille, then at Sydney. The knights were growing dimmer now, though they appeared to be in less pain. Sir Robert pointed at the redhead and shouted something.
The redhead darted forward, snatched the stone from Sydney’s hand and leaped for Camille. Camille cried out as the redhead grabbed her arm, slapped the stone into her palm, and yanked her toward the knights.
The air lurched. Camille’s stomach turned sideways, and the ground fell away from her feet. The light dimmed, and Sydney faded as she called Camille’s name.
For a moment, all was darkness.
With a snap, reality came back, but Camille staggered across a stone floor in a room lit by candles. From across a large chalk circle, a woman stared at her with wide green eyes.
“What…” Camille gasped for breath and put a hand to her chest, but she wasn’t hurt. The knights and the redhead were gone. Camille dropped the stone and watched it roll into the circle, scattering a pile of dirt. “You’re the Hawk.”
The Hawk gaped at her before saying, “Ember.” Her eyelids fluttered, and she fell back onto a pile of cushions.
Chapter Seven
Sydney turned in one full circle, then another. She stood in a field of purple heather, and craggy hills rose in the distance. The lush forests and fields of long grass near Kingston had disappeared, replaced by land that seemed barren and inhospitable.
