The Thirteenth Scroll Page 25

  She would not try a spell on it again; she had been lucky enough the first time that the scroll had not been completely destroyed, and she would not underestimate Tambryn’s powers, or his intelligence, again. None of the tales she had heard ever mentioned magic, but Aurya now knew Tambryn had been a mage of great power. It took nothing less to set such a spell and have it maintain its cohesion through six centuries.

  But though the Mirror Spell was protection against her magic, it had granted her a revelation that might well be the salvation of her quest. She had been taking the words of the scroll too literally. She had indeed found that which was hidden—when she found the spell upon the scroll. And she had found the forgotten by realizing the truth about Tambryn himself.

  This new knowledge would have filled her with satisfaction had it not been for the dream that had disturbed her sleep last night. In it, she had seen two birds racing through the skies. One had been the black griffin of Giraldus’s crest. The other had been a dove, a small bird by comparison, with bright white plumage and a body that was sleekly plump.

  They were racing toward the same goal, a glowing spot upon the northern horizon. The griffin, much larger and more powerful, soon overtook the dove and closed its black talons around the snowy body. But even as the griffin brought its long hooked beak down to close upon its prey’s neck, to sever its head and destroy it in one swift move, the dove drove its own sharply pointed beak into the griffin’s heart. Then, from the dove’s beak, bright flame erupted, shooting deep within the griffin’s body and consuming it. In its death throes, the griffin released the dove to fly onward, free and unchallenged, to its goal.

  Aurya had awakened from this dream two hours before dawn. Rising from beside the sleeping Giraldus, she wrapped a blanket around herself and went to sit before the remnants of the fire, in the cramped and dingy room they had rented the night before.

  The dream could only have one meaning. Someone else possessed a copy of Tambryn’s scroll and was also trying to find the child. But whom? To that question she had no answer; she knew of no Baron or House that used a white dove as its symbol.

  Aurya stared into the embers, watching their red-orange glow slowly become covered and dimmed by ash, while she asked that same question over and over. It was not until the glow was almost gone that she moved.

  She grabbed the poker and quickly stirred the dying fire to life, adding new wood. Her heartbeat counted the seconds until little tongues of flame began to appear, licking the undersides of the logs. Then, satisfied, Aurya sat back on her heels thinking, trying to decide the best way to deal with this unexpected threat.

  Magic was the only answer, but she must move carefully—the scroll had taught her that. And, who but another mage would own the scrolls of someone like Tambryn, whose writings had been forbidden by the Church? To use magic against another who practiced in the arcane could be very dangerous—and to use too strong a spell would drain her, both of body and power, leaving her defenseless.

  Finally, Aurya settled upon a spell that would only work if the one against whom it was cast carried any unresolved doubts. If he or she were moving with confidence, completely convinced of their course and action, the spell would dissolve into the ether. But, if such doubts existed, this spell would find them, cast a cloud of darkness and malaise that would keep its victim mired.

  Once the fire was burning brightly, Aurya focused her eyes and mind upon the flames as she called forth her place of power and began to Cast…

  Now, in the bright light of late morning, as she and Giraldus rode away from the little village of Fintra, she was certain she had made the right choice. She needed all of her strength today if they were to reach the town where Giraldus’s soldiers were to be waiting.

  Tonight, she thought as her horse settled into its smooth canter, when I’ll have time afterward to sleep and regain my strength, perhaps I’ll try a Spell of Finding. That will show me just who this white dove is—and then I’ll know how to stop him. No one will get to the child before I do… No one.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  When Talog finally led the others out of the bogs, Renan released a silent sigh of relief. The sun was up, but thankfully it was a dark and cloudy day. Although the heavy overcast signaled a spring storm by nightfall, it also meant they could cover some extra distance before needing to stop.

  Renan was still worried about Lysandra. She insisted she was fine now and that whatever strange humor had taken hold of her earlier had passed, but she still looked… “deflated” was the word that came to Renan’s mind.

  She looks as if a part of her has been drained away, he kept thinking every time he glanced at her. But what part? Of purpose? Of self? How can I—we, he reminded himself—help her get it back?

  He was relieved when they finally found a safe place to settle for the day. This time it was a cave, one of many etched into a tall stony ridge on the north border of the boglands. The cave they chose required a small amount of climbing to reach, but it was safer than one close to the ground, where anything might enter while they slept.

  Renan and Talog helped first Cloud-Dancer and then Lysandra clamber up to the cave. Then Renan signaled Talog to follow them.

  “I’ll find some wood for a fire,” he said softly, aware of how sound might carry.

  Foraging in solitude gave Renan a chance to sort through some of his feelings. They were in an uproar. Just a short time ago, he had thought all of his major life-decisions were made, his future in place. But now, it seemed that each day something new happened to call them into question.

  Lysandra was at the heart of most of his turmoil. His feelings for her grew with every day he spent in her company, until now his respect and admiration had deepened into something infinitely richer. They were also the very reasons he would never speak of his feelings to her.

  He would never put Lysandra into the emotionally uncomfortable—or spiritually dangerous—position of being the unacknowledged “hearth-mate” of a priest who held his vows in little esteem. Renan knew that many of his brethren thought nothing of such a relationship, especially in the more isolated parishes. In a Church where younger sons and daughters were given into the Religious life at ages as young as five or six and for reasons of economics rather than true vocation, such abuses were inevitable —and frequently overlooked by the disciplinary hierarchy.

  But Renan was not one of these. He had sought out this life of his own accord, with a willing heart and a belief that this was the vocation he was meant to follow. Now, whatever his feelings elsewhere, he must honor the dictates and responsibilities of that decision.

  The greatest danger to his vows was not Lysandra; it was Lady Aurya. She threatened not his vocation, but something that went even deeper. It was the vow that had sent him into the Church and that defined who he was and what he wanted to be.

  Before all this was over, he feared it would be something he would be forced to break.

  But he was not the only one to whom Lady Aurya posed a danger. Lysandra’s recent behavior, so completely out of character, could only be of Aurya’s design. He could not say how she knew of their presence, or what spell she used against Lysandra, but the more he thought about it, the more certain he became that it was her handiwork.

  He was also increasingly convinced that she and her companions were on the same quest to find the Font of Wisdom. This made it all the more imperative that his party be the first to find the child. Aurya’s purposes could bode no good for either the child or the kingdom. Whatever plans she might have once she could claim whatever powers the Font of Wisdom might hold, they no doubt began with putting Baron Giraldus on the throne of Aghamore.

  Renan admitted that, alone, Giraldus might make a passable, perhaps even a good King. But Aurya was by his side and partner in every aspect of his life. It was well-known that in the ruling of Kilgarriff, Aurya’s whims were Giraldus’s laws. What that promised for Aghamore’s future was not something Renan wished to see.

  As gr
eat a threat as that might be, the more immediate danger lay in Aurya’s knowledge of Renan and the others. Her weapon was magic—and he feared that only more magic could turn it aside.

  Filled with this dread, his heart now as heavy as his laden arms, Renan headed back toward the cave where the others waited. He did not yet know how much he would tell them—he would wait to hear what Talog had to say—but he did know they must do all in their power to keep the child they sought away from Aurya. If they failed, then just as both the scroll and the Holy Words of the Cryf had forewarned, a future of darkness awaited the people of Aghamore.

  It was not until the fire was going and their food had been cooked that Renan again asked Talog about the danger he had mentioned in the bog. The young Cryf’s face grew grave as he set aside his cup of chamomile tea.

  “We face now a troubled path,” he began, “and not only such danger as can be found upon thy maps. I ask thy forgiveness that I saw not the warning marks left by the ancient ones. Had I seen with clearer eyes, never would we have rested in that place. It be a place of greatest evil.”

  Although Talog’s use and understanding of their language had greatly improved, he still used the archaic form of many words, and Renan was not certain Talog meant evil. How could a place be evil? Dangerous, yes—but evil?

  “I don’t understand,” he said. “People can be evil, certainly, or they can do evil deeds—but how can you say a place is evil? Are you sure of the word?”

  Now Talog looked as confused as Renan. “Do not Up-worlders have holy places? Have ye no places wherein the Spirit of the Divine may be felt?”

  Renan considered carefully. Certainly there were churches and even great cathedrals—but were they holy places or were they places made holy by the people and the practices they contained? Yet throughout history, all religions had mentioned places where the Divine, by whatever name, was said to abide. Mount Sinai for the ancient Hebrews or Delphi where the Oracle of the Greeks and Romans prophesied, to name just two.

  “Yes,” he said at last to answer Talog’s question. “Yes, we do.”

  “Why then dost thou not believe some places may be evil?” Talog asked.

  Renan had to acknowledge it was a fair question. “I don’t know,” he replied honestly.

  “The Cryf know,” Talog stated, “for the Divine hath made us to know. The land speaketh always unto us, and those of wisest hearts have learned to listen. Always do the Cryf feel of the land both the good and the evil therein.

  “At the time of the beginning, all was good, all was holy. In perfection all was made and in perfection did abide and the First Ones of all living things did live in peace unto one another, for peace is the Gift of the Divine Who giveth all Life. Even the First Ones of the Cryf and the Up-worlders did know peace together and fear did not yet grow in any hearts.

  “But peace did not satisfy every heart and thus greed was born into the world. Though it saddened the Divine to behold it, it was left to be, for the Gift of Life had been freely given. Greed be a thing of greatest danger, for it cometh never alone. With greed cometh jealousy, envy, selfishness, and these give birth unto anger, hatred, and fear. Thus was the peace of the first times destroyed.

  “Then did the First Ones of the Cryf cry out unto the Divine, pleading to be set free from the world wherein greed abideth. Then did the Divine lead the Cryf unto the Realm and did place us as guards upon the peace that abideth there.”

  Renan realized, fascinated, that Talog was telling him the Cryf story of Creation. How much is he not saying? he wondered, certain that Talog was telling it in a much-abbreviated form. Was he doing so because of his listener’s lack of knowledge in the history of the Cryf, as one would tell a child, or because of his own limited, though increasing, vocabulary?

  “Are there Cryf in other lands?” he asked Talog. “Are there other Realms?”

  The young Cryf shook his head. “The Divine did gather the Cryf from every land to enter unto the Realm. These did become the twelve Clans of the Cryf who now live together. We came, led by the Hand of the Divine, unto this place thou callest Ag-ha-more.” He pronounced it slowly, each syllable separately formed to make certain he said it correctly.

  “But why here?” Renan asked.

  “Thou truly knowest not?” Talog asked in return, his voice both sad and surprised.

  Renan shook his head. When all of this is over, he promised himself, I’m going to return to the Realm and ask Eiddig to tell me all the stories. If they’re not already written down, they should be.

  “Onto this place thou callest Ag-ha-more,” Talog continued, “was the Hand of the Divine laid and power given. There be but few places in this world where such power abideth. It dwelleth within the land, the water, the air, the plants, and all that doth live.

  “In the first times, when the Voice of the Divine was heard by all, the power that dwelleth in this land was freely felt and freely used. When the greed was born unto thy kind and many turned away from the Path of the Divine, then did some use the power of this land unto their own evil deeds. Then were born such places as we did encounter. Deed upon evil deed did gather the darkness unto these places, and the darkness twisteth the Gift of the Divine, marring the beauty that was first created and meant to dwell there.

  “The Divine speaketh not to those who will not hear nor taketh the heart withheld. Thus did the Voice of the Divine cease to be heard, save by the few, and the power within this land was soon forgotten, for what hath been forgotten may not in evil be used.

  “But the Cryf remember, for unto us was it given to remember, and always we guard the Truth. The Divine Hand is laid upon the Realm of the Cryf. No power may enter unto the Realm nor touch upon the Cryf. This hath the Divine given unto us. Thus Darkness may not enter unto our hearts and we remain ever true unto the Will of the Divine.”

  Power, Renan thought, wondering at Talog’s use of the word. What kind of power is in the land, the air… does he mean magic? There is magic in everything here, but it cannot touch the Cryf? If that is true, Talog may have just saved… everything.

  Renan smiled and leaned forward as he began to question the young Cryf, wanting to know everything Talog could tell him.

  * * *

  Another day lost, Aurya thought with frustration. It had taken all day to ride from Fintra to outside Diamor, where Giraldus’s men were waiting. Now it was too dark to travel, and the time they were losing made Aurya fume with annoyance.

  She begrudged every second lost not looking for the child. A part of her whispered to use the spell and force Giraldus to order his men to break camp and head north with her at once. But there were no fresh mounts waiting along the road for them. These horses, which they had ridden across the kingdom and halfway back, had to be treated with care.

  At least there’s fire and food, she thought as she and Giraldus entered the soldiers’ camp. In truth, she was glad of both, and glad to see that the soldiers had erected tents—including the large one bearing Giraldus’s arms with which he usually traveled. Although it would proclaim Giraldus’s identity to any who saw it, it would also provide shelter and far more comfort.

  The weather had been cool and damp all day, and two hours earlier it had begun to drizzle. The soft but constant rain had saturated Aurya’s cloak and begun to seep through her clothes. It was not unseasonable weather for the northern part of the kingdom, but it was uncomfortable.

  As they entered the camp, the soldiers scrambled to their feet, two of them rushing to take the horses. Their leader, Sergeant Maelik, did not rush. He swaggered a bit, as if confident of his master’s approval.

  Which he had. He and Giraldus greeted each other as the old friends and comrades-in-arms that they were. They had known each other since childhood, had been often partnered when training as young men, whether with sword or bow or staff, or lance and quintain. Side by side they had also fought in such campaigns as a kingdom most often at peace had to offer—which was not enough for either of them.

&n
bsp; When she and Giraldus had first become lovers, Aurya had felt a little jealous of the special bond the years had forged between them. But now, after nearly a decade, she regarded Maelik with a sense of familiar ease, even trust.

  “God’s Blood—it’s good to see you, Maelik,” Giraldus said as he all but vaulted from his stallion’s back and strode forward to grasp the sergeant by the shoulders. “What a time we had getting here, I tell you.”

  “Aye?” Maelik replied, gripping Giraldus’s shoulders just as warmly in the rough male substitute for an embrace. “My men and I’ve been ‘ere for two days, waitin’.”

  “My stallion threw a shoe in some God-forsaken hole,” Giraldus explained as he went to help Aurya from her saddle. “It might not have been so bad if the local ale had tasted better. Like warm horse piss it was—and the food was little better.”

  “Well, we’ve ale with us,” Maelik said, “and wine for m’lady. Young Rhys here would na’ let us leave without ‘em. ‘E said you and Lady Aurya ‘ad been traveling long enough and would want a taste of your own. ‘E’s who insisted we bring your tent, too. We put it up as soon as this blasted rain began. There even be a bit of a fire on the brazier so’s it’d be warm and the damp’d be gone.”

  “Well, bless you for that,” Aurya said as she, now dismounted, nodded a greeting to the sergeant. “But just how many others know where we are?”

  “No ‘un knows exactly, m’lady,” Maelik answered. “I didna even tell my men until we was well under way. I only told young Rhys we was ordered to ride out and meet you so’s ’e could order up our supplies from the kitchens. Me orders was to tell no one, and obey them I did.”

  “Of course you did,” Giraldus boomed. “I had no doubt otherwise. Now, where’s that ale—and food? We’ve been astride too many hours, and it’s only my outside that’s wet. My throat’s as parched as an August day.”