The Thirteenth Scroll Read online

  They all dropped gratefully to the floor, giving their muscles a chance to recover. Renan squatted next to Lysandra for a moment.

  “Where are they?” he asked her softly. “Can you see?”

  This ability, this Far-Seeing, was still too new to Lysandra for her to use easily. In time, perhaps, that would come—but for now it took concentration. She closed her eyes as she endeavored to turn her Sight backward along the route they had just traveled.

  “They’re still at the church,” she told Renan after a moment. “They’re searching it. Father Peadar is talking to Lady Aurya. She’s very angry that he is not telling her what she wants to hear. I think they’ll leave the church very soon. We don’t have much time. How long do you think it will take us to reach the boats again?”

  “That depends on how many hours a day we can travel,” he said. “If Talog can stand more light so we can keep going longer, we should be there in two days instead of the three it took us to get here. Are you strong enough for that after—“

  He did not have to say the rest. She knew what he meant; he meant after the magic pursuing them had almost destroyed her.

  “I’m fine,” she told him. “The Darkness is gone. I don’t believe it will be a danger again.”

  What she did not need to say was that many other dangers were waiting to take its place. Renan’s touch on her arm said he understood.

  He rose and went back to Selia’s side. The girl needed more reassurance than any of them and Lysandra was glad Renan was here to give it.

  There was joy ahead for Selia—if they survived this journey and the many trials that still stood between her and the throne. When that joy came, it would be carried on the wings of trust and friendship, and it would forever replace the dull ache with which Selia had lived for so long.

  Lysandra could hear Talog’s breathing where he sat by the entrance to the tunnel, surveying the landscape outside. Feeling her way along the wall, she crawled over to him.

  “What do you see?” she asked him softly, grateful again for his eyes, formed to see in the realm of the Cryf.

  “We be two miles, mayhap three from the town,” Talog told her. “But, the way before us crosseth open ground—and if we find not shelter before the rising of the Great Light, we shall be revealed unto our enemy’s eyes.”

  “How far to the bogs?” Lysandra asked.

  Talog shook his head slowly. “I know not.”

  “The maps—Renan’s maps—will they show where we are?”

  “Again, I know not,” Talog admitted. “The maps reveal the land, but not this passage. The map of the Cryf showeth what the Hand of the Divine hath devised, not the hands of the Up-worlders.” Talog took a deep breath. “But for thee, Healer, and for She-Who-Is-Wisdom, I shall try.”

  Talog joined Renan, and Lysandra heard the rustle as the priest unfolded the map of Rathreagh. The two conferred over their possible location. After a moment, Selia’s voice joined them.

  Good, Lysandra thought. She’s getting involved. The shell she has built around herself is beginning to crack. Youth heals so quickly.

  And Selia has grown up here, Lysandra’s thoughts continued. Perhaps she will know something that can help us, something Renan and Talog can’t see on the map.

  Talog returned. “Healer,” he said. “She-Who-Is-Wisdom hath said the first of the boglands lie but a night’s travel east and south. If we go swiftly and rest not, we shall be there in safety before the coming of the Great Light.”

  “And then?” Lysandra asked. “How long into the day can you travel, Talog?”

  “I am Cryf,” he answered solemnly, “whom the Divine named Strong. I shall go as long as is needed. She-Who-Is-Wisdom must reach the Realm of the Cryf. Eiddig awaiteth our return. He knoweth the Holy Words. He shall know what must be done.”

  I hope you’re right, Lysandra thought but did not say. Someone had better know.

  Lysandra stood. One of them had to signal the end of their rest—it might as well be her. Once more she sent her Sight back along they way they had just traversed.

  “They are leaving the church,” she said just loudly enough for all to hear. “They have to find their way out of town and gather their men, but they will not be long behind us.”

  “I shall lead,” Talog said again. Lysandra nodded, and winding her fingers deeply into Cloud-Dancer’s fur, she prayed that in this darkness would lie their salvation.

  The same prayer was in all their hearts as, one by one, they emerged from the tunnel. Then, with only the moonlight and Talog’s wondrous eyesight to guide them, they set out at as quick a pace as they could manage, hoping to cross the open land before the dawn.

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Aurya and the others picked their way back through the town with the same frustrating slowness that they had entered. But the cobbled streets were becoming more treacherous with each moment. The wind had shifted and now blew straight in from the sea, picking up the spray of high tide and beginning to deposit a light, slick layer of moisture over the stones.

  Inwardly, Aurya screamed; outwardly, she gritted her teeth and forced herself to keep her horse to a safe pace, reminding herself that a fall and a destroyed animal would mean a delay that could put any hope of overtaking her quarry far out of reach.

  Finally, the narrow, winding streets gave way to hard-pack and the horses’ hooves could once again gain purchase. But even now she would not let her control slip. She could not just follow her enemies, hoping they were soon found—but a Spell of Finding took both time and energy.

  Outside of town, she reined her horse to a stop and called to Sergeant Maelik. “Gather your men who are guarding the roads,” she ordered. “Baron Giraldus and I will await you at the next open field. And do not delay, Maelik—is that clear?”

  Aurya’s voice grew hard as she said this. She was gratified to see the understanding flash in Maelik’s eyes; it held a spark of fear, assuring her he would obey, even without the use of magic. For all his swagger, Maelik was a superstitious man, and men of his type were more easily controlled than they appeared to those who did not know the truth of human nature.

  As Maelik motioned to his men, Aurya turned to Giraldus. She reached out and laid a hand gently on his cheek.

  “I know you’re angry,” she said, her voice more gentle this time. “But shortly you will see that I’ve only done what was needed—for both of us.”

  The light of anger in Giraldus’s eyes faded a little with her touch. Not completely, but enough to let her know that when the time and circumstances were correct, she would be able to persuade him into forgiveness.

  She gave him the smile that he alone ever saw. “We’re close,” she said, “so very close to having all we’ve ever dreamed of together.”

  Aurya clicked her tongue and gave her horse a little nudge. The gelding sprang forward as if it, too, was tired of the sedate pace necessitated by the cobbles. She did not need to look back to know Giraldus followed; the Spell of Obedience was too well set for him to have a choice—and Aurya liked this control far too much to give it up.

  As soon as he was able, Aurya knew Giraldus would demand the spell’s removal, and her explanation. She had to be ready for that moment. Giraldus loved her—but he was also someone whose temper rivaled her own, while his control did not. She could, of course, magic away his anger… but she preferred to persuade it away, using that magic all women possessed but too few used adequately. As she rode, she prepared herself with the arguments she would give Giraldus for the spell’s necessity and yes, she would make a great show of removing it.

  She would also reset it as soon as he was once more asleep.

  A half hour outside of town, Aurya found a clearing to suit her purposes. Rathreagh was not a province of forests, like Camlough, where meadows had to be discovered among the trees and farms cut out and claimed from the woodlands. It was a province of bogs and stones.

  But here, in this clearing south of Caerryck, the stones had been remove
d. The place, though not large, lay uncluttered and level in the moonlight, as if waiting for Aurya to come along and make use of it. She rode into the center of the area and dismounted, giving her reins to Giraldus. While he saw to the horses, she walked the perimeter of the clearing. It was a circle, nearly perfect, of ancient design and made by human hands. This had been a place of power; Aurya could feel lingering traces of it still, as if the earth itself had absorbed some of the magic once performed here.

  Who, she wondered, had cleared this circle, and what had been its purpose? What magic was powerful enough to have left its imprint still discernible? Here and there around the perimeter, she found little piles of stones. There was no doubt they had been put there deliberately, but they told her nothing of the hands that had so placed them.

  She returned to where Giraldus was standing. “Maelik and the men should be here soon,” she said, “and then I can begin. But I need a fire—there, in the center.”

  “Why?” Giraldus said harshly, forcing the words out through gritted teeth. “Why do you need them—and the fire?”

  Aurya was surprised to hear Giraldus question her. She could feel that her spell still held him and that he spoke at all was a testament to his strength of will and his concern for his men. With every word, speaking became easier for Giraldus. His voice became more clear, more normal, and Aurya could plainly hear the anger and the accusation it contained.

  “What are you planning?” he demanded. “You charge us into that town like the devil’s burning your tail and now, instead of chasing your prey, you have us stop and build a fire. Tell me in plain words what you’re planning. They are my men, and I’ll not see them harmed.”

  Aurya was annoyed by his questions. But for the sake of their years together and the future to come, she answered him.

  “Yes, we have to chase our prey,” she said, “but look around, Giraldus… which way did they go and how many are they? What road did they take and what is their destination? Where along the way can we catch them? What I’m about to do will tell us all that—that and more. Now, do as I have ordered and make the fire. I must be ready when the men arrive.”

  Her last words were spoken as a command, and though Giraldus did not like it, he obeyed. It took him several long minutes to collect enough wood from the fallen branches of the sparse and twisted bushes that dotted the landscape to make enough of a fire for Aurya’s needs. He was just setting it when Aurya finally heard the sounds of the soldiers’ horses.

  Once they arrived, she sent them to gather any remaining wood they could find and set it beside the fire. It was neither as big a flame nor as large a stack of wood as she wanted, but it would serve—it would have to.

  Finally ready, she ordered the men to form a circle around her. Then she faced the flames, using them as her focus as she called forth her powers. Soon, she felt the magical fire burning, filling her with heat as surely as that coming from the flames before her. She began to chant.

  “Elements of night and darkness, into this waiting vessel flow;

  Power given, Power taken, Power rule, and Power know.”

  Her magic, already astir, flared with a sudden rush that sent Aurya’s senses reeling. Rarely had she felt such a burst of power.

  The men waited nervously in the circle she had directed them to make. Now she turned from the flames to face them. She began to walk withershins around the circle, chanting her spell. She found the fear and fascination on their faces invigorating as three times she made the circle, weaving a thread of magic behind her.

  She stopped at the head of the circle, the north where Giraldus stood. She stepped closer and closer, finally forcing him to take three steps back. When he was in position, she touched his forehead with her fingertips.

  “Element of Fire, I name thee,” she said. “Power of Fire, I claim thee. Fire, in might, stand guard this night.”

  As her fingertips left his forehead, Giraldus’s body stiffened slightly. The first sentry was in place. Giraldus, as anchor of the spell she was now casting, would feel the connection of powers meet in him most strongly of anyone here, save herself. Aurya wanted him to feel it, to know something of what she felt each time she called her magic forth.

  Still walking withershins, Aurya stepped back into the circle and went a few more paces, to the soldier whose back was to the west. Here, too, she stepped forward, forcing him three paces back. She repeated the words of the spell, naming him Water.

  South was Earth and east was Air; the guards were set at the four corners of the ancient magical elements. Aurya once more made three circuits around, this time outside the main body of men; three circuits walked between the elemental sentries and those whose energy she would soon be harvesting.

  Finally, Aurya stepped back into the center by the fire and raised her arms, up and out, palms turned toward the night. In a louder voice, she completed her spell:

  “Fire, Water, Earth, and Air

  Summoned by my power here;

  Here to watch and here to guard,

  Here to protect—this circle Ward.

  Close this circle with ancient might,

  My magic and my will alone

  May pierce the strength of Ward and watching

  Until I break thy web of stone.”

  To the others within the circle, it felt as if they suddenly stood beneath a clear canopy. Only Aurya could actually see the charge of power all around them. To her, the stars overhead dimmed, the outer landscape blurred, and the sounds of the night were muted to silence.

  She glanced at Giraldus. His eyes were wide with surprise as he felt the arcane forces meeting in his body. Aurya knew this spell could not continue for long, not if she wanted to ride on tonight. If held too long, even such a basic casting as a Warding Circle could drain those through whom the magic flowed.

  Aurya would not need much time. All of the men were woven into a single current of power. She was ready to harness that energy, gather it into herself to mold and shape and cast it outward again. What returned would tell her all she needed.

  Aurya knelt. She shrugged off her cloak to let herself be bathed more fully in the heat rising from the fire and in the Goddess-light of the moon. She looked deeply into the heart of the flames:

  “All are one within this place,

  This circle now by magic shielded;

  In one combined and woven strong,

  One in power, shaped and wielded.

  Into me now I do command,

  For magic’s sake, the life force flows

  Until my words shall send it forth;

  My will commands where power goes.”

  Aurya felt the spell working. At this moment she was a creature of magic, her tether to her mortal life was anchored only by ambition and the greed for what this life could still give her.

  “On wings of Will, my magic flies

  To find the ones now from me running,

  And see more clear than eagle’s eyes

  My enemies’ acts of stealth and cunning.

  Reveal my prey and let me see

  Within these flames, this province wide;

  One path to find, one path to follow—

  Let none from me have power to bide.”

  Aurya waited, glowing from the heat within and without. In the dream of several nights ago, she had been the black griffin of Kilgarriff. She used that image to send her Spell of Finding flying on magic wing, colored and shining as onyx, searching for the white dove that was its prey. But this time she would be the destroyer, not the destroyed.

  The flames flared as a picture began to form. It was hazy, hard to discern—as if some magic she did not know was blocking it. Had she been alone, she might have been defeated. Now she drew even more greedily on Giraldus and his men. She channeled the power outward on her will and through her eyes, to force the revelation she desired from the unwilling night.

  There, she had it; she wanted to shout her victory, but she dared not break her focus. She saw the little band of tr
avelers she thought of only as The Others. In the flames she saw the outline of two women, one accompanied by a large dog; she saw a man—a priest, his clothing proclaimed. And there was someone else—something—else, but its identity her magic refused to penetrate. Whatever it was, had a power to shield itself such as she had never before encountered.

  But where is the child? The thought contained a touch of panic she refused to acknowledge. Perhaps it is the child who is shielded.

  That had to be it. If these were not the ones she sought, her magic would have passed over them, as it had all the other inhabitants of Rathreagh.

  She saw where they were heading—through the bogs to the river. Fools, she thought with a renewed sense of triumph. Who did the child have for protection—a priest, two women, and a dog… and now those protectors were leading the child straight where it should not go. The bogs were dangerous enough by day, but trying to traverse them by night was an act as foolhardy as it was desperate.

  Aurya smiled, for she and the others had only to ride to the far side, between the bogs and the river, and catch this weak band as they emerged. Perhaps the bogs would even decrease their number before she caught them.

  But before she broke the circle, Aurya would do one more Casting, this time directly against her enemies.

  “Hearts of haste and footsteps running,

  Falter on the path ahead;

  Muscles fail and focus wander

  Each step make feel like feet of lead.

  Slow and slower become thy travels,

  Each breath exhaled thy strength doth spend;

  Cease thy passage, end thy running,

  And thus our separation mend.”

  Aurya’s smile grew for she could feel that this spell was well cast. It would find those toward whom it was directed, further ensuring that her company would be able to overtake them. Before the next night was through, the child would be in her control.