The Viking's Consort (Clan Hakon Series Book 3) Page 12

  “Earth can create spells for beautification or for life. Wind or air can create spells that suffocate or cleanse in a different way than water. They can be combined to increase their power. But I cannot create magic without them.”

  “And my magic? Is it not tied to the elements?” I asked.

  She slowly shook her head. “Your magic is tied to your very essence. It is a living part of your body. In your blood, your skin, your bones, and your soul. There is no Allete without your magic. It cannot be taken from you and should someone try, it would kill you.”

  “Well, that’s encouraging.”

  Myra shrugged. “Just a fact. A witch can be stripped of her magic. But oracles are special in a different way. I have no idea everything an oracle is capable of, but I know their magic isn’t limited to healing or seeing the future.” She paused. ”Tell me briefly about your encounter with Gisele. How did you have the unfortunate luck of meeting her?”

  I told Myra all about what happened after being kidnapped by Magnus. About the awful time on the ship before arriving at Calder’s clan.

  “My sister must be blocking me in some way because I have not seen her in any of my scrying. I knew you’d come in contact with Calder, but Gisele was never present in anything I saw. She must have a reason for working with Calder,” Myra said, speaking more to herself than to me.

  “What might that be?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “Gisele never does anything that won’t benefit her.”

  “Well, I didn’t get that impression at all. She seemed entirely altruistic when I met her,” I said, my tone of voice in complete contrast with my words. “I found her quite lovely.”

  “About as lovely as sitting on a cactus.” Myra chuckled.

  “Was she always that way?” I asked. I still found it unbelievable that this woman was Gisele’s twin sister, not the least of which because Gisele appeared young and beautiful. Myra appeared to have been around when dirt was invented. And I couldn’t for the life of me picture Gisele as a child. How could anyone so wicked ever have been an innocent little one?

  “In some ways, yes, she was always…I’m not sure evil is the right word, but she was certainly willing to do evil things to get what she wanted. I think she was born with an innate need for power, for control. But she hid it well. And she didn’t know how to get the power she craved. Until she came into contact with magic for the first time. Then, I believe, her path became crystal clear to her,” Myra explained.

  “How did she first encounter magic?”

  Myra hung her head, letting out a laugh that sounded anything but amused. “Where do you think? Her lovely twin sister.”

  My eyes widened. “You?”

  She nodded. “You see, I was born a witch. Gisele, however, was not. She had no magical ability to speak of. When I started to realize I was different, that I had power, I wanted her to experience it, too. She was, after all, my twin sister. We did everything together. But when I began to come into power and she did not, a wedge was driven between us. I’d do anything to remove it. So, I thought I could remove the wedge by allowing her to feel what I was experiencing. But from the moment she felt my magic for the first time, things changed. She changed.”

  “She saw all the ways the magic could benefit herself?” I said.

  “Exactly. It was all about her and what she could gain.” Myra sighed. “I lost my sister that day. After that, she was never the same.”

  “I’m sorry, Myra. I miss my sisters, even Lizzy back home, who I am not as close to. I can’t imagine what it was like to lose your sister to something that was more captivating to her than your relationship.”

  “A lot of time has passed since then. The girl I once knew is long gone now.”

  “I’m going to ask you this and I hope it doesn’t sound rude, but why does she appear so young?”

  She chuckled. “And why do I look old?”

  “You said it, not me.” I laughed, rolling my eyes.

  “She uses blood magic to keep herself young and beautiful. Mixing blood with any of the elements makes it stronger. The addition of blood gives a witch the power to make the magic obey their commands and follow their will. With that type of magic a witch can do almost anything, including make oneself beautiful. She has kept herself young by using the life force of others,” Myra explained.

  “What do you mean by life force?” I asked.

  “I mean, I doubt she stops with a little scratch on the hand as you did.”

  My eyes went wide. “You mean she has killed people to get their blood?” My stomach turned. How could someone take another person’s life for their own personal gain? I could understand self-defense. But I couldn’t understand cold-blooded murder.

  Myra shrugged. “She is what she is, and nothing will change her at this point. She is too far gone.”

  We just quietly sat there for a few minutes. I wondered if, like me, Myra was taking a moment to mourn the loss of someone to the clutches of evil. I didn’t know Gisele, other than the brief, awful, encounters I’d had with her, but it made me sad she’d chosen the path of evil.

  “Enough with the history lesson and the stroll down the dark, morbid memory lane,” Myra said as she rubbed her hands together. “We need to figure this out.” She pointed to the book that was sitting in the center of the table.

  “I say we chuck it in the ocean and let the fish eat it,” I grumbled.

  “I know you’re frustrated. I am, too,” Myra said. “But time is of the essence. If there’s anything in this book about what is to come of the battle with Cathal and the joining of the clans, or even the fall of Calder, we need to know. Are you sure you haven’t had any dreams? Maybe something that feels like more than a dream?” she asked.

  I shook my head. “Nothing. I’m so tired I don’t even dream at night.” Frowning, I glared at the book. It had become the bane of my existence. “Tell me your secrets, you pesky leather-bound nuisance.”

  “I’m sure that should work,” Myra chortled.

  “We’ve tried all of your bright ideas.”

  “Not peeing,” Myra interrupted.

  I ignored her. “Maybe it is time to be a little ridiculous—without the urine,” I added quickly. “Hilda, after all, could be quite ridiculous.”

  Myra tapped her chin as she rested her elbow on the small table. Every evening after my training for the past two nights, we’d come back to the hut and worked on trying to open the book. Now that it was open, on this third night, we were trying to figure out how to get the pages to reveal their contents. I was certain Hilda hadn’t buried a blank book. If she had, I might have to bring her back from the grave just to hit her over the head with it.

  “You may be right,” the witch finally said. “Hilda was nothing if not unconventional.”

  “We’ve said spells. We’ve used blood. We’ve used herbs.” I ticked them off on my fingers. “What are we missing that the crazy, old oracle would find amusing?”

  “There doesn’t seem to be any oracle magic on it. Otherwise, your spit would have worked again,” Myra pointed out. “Perhaps she used elemental magic.”

  “But you said she wasn’t a witch.”

  “True, but maybe she knew you would have a witch’s help.”

  “Are you telling me the woman knew you would be here helping me? That would be the only reason she would use elemental magic, right?”

  “She was an oracle, Allete,” Myra pointed out for the hundredth time. “I’m sure there is much she saw she never shared with anyone. Things only she needed to know. Perhaps she saw my assistance in a vision.”

  “I remember her telling me once the future wasn’t set in stone. Even the things she saw could change because of people’s abilities to change their minds. What if you had changed your mind and not decided to come help me? If she knew there was even a small chance you might not come, why would she take such a great risk?”

  “Whatever she saw must have convinced her I wouldn’t veer from my course
,” she answered. She stood then and headed out the door. “Just stay there. I’ll be right back.”

  I sat there, eyes on the open door, wondering what she was doing. After less than a minute, Myra returned with a handful of dirt.

  “I don’t think this will be it since the book was buried in the earth, but we will try,” she explained as she sprinkled the dirt onto the book pages. “Earth, rich of life-giving soil, show us the words for which we toil.”

  We both stared expectantly, but nothing happened. After a couple of minutes, I sighed. “That would have been too easy.”

  Myra dusted the dirt off the book, and I made a mental note to sweep the floor later.

  “What now?”

  “Air,” she said as she picked up the book and held it up to her face, flat on her palms. “Breath of life, I breathe on thee. Reveal your treasure, let us see.” She took a deep breath, then slowly blew the air out, moving her face around so her breath touched the pages.

  Ironically, I was holding my breath as I waited, hoping this would work. But again, several minutes later, there was nothing. “I’m beginning to hate magical books.”

  “I’m beginning to think they don’t like us too much, either,” she replied.

  I snorted. “Hilda probably enchanted the thing to loathe royal blood.”

  “I’m sorry, but if she did, I will laugh my backside off,” Myra said unabashedly.

  “Water next?” I asked, because I didn’t see how she could use fire without burning the damn book to a crisp. “I wonder if it has to be consecrated somehow.”

  “It shouldn’t matter,” Myra said. “Water is water.” She set the book on the table, then walked over to the pot of water hanging in the hearth. It was cool now since I had boiled it the day before so we would have clean drinking water. She dipped the ladle in before returning to the table. Dipping her fingers in the water, Myra sprinkled the droplets on the blank pages and said, “Cleansing water, refreshing flow, reveal the words and what they show.”

  When that didn’t work, I threw my hands up in the air and growled. “You have got to be kidding me! Fire?”

  “Or smoke,” Myra said.

  “You know it’s not smoke. Not after all this. That old bitty made fire the thing that would reveal the words. It has to be, and it’s perfect because she would think it was hilarious. The fact that fire would usually destroy a book in a matter of minutes would be the thing that actually makes the book reveal its contents.”

  “Might as well get it over with,” Myra said.

  We moved the pot from the hearth, then lit the wood. When the fire was crackling nicely, we both got on our knees in front of it. I held the book open in my hands. “Now what?”

  “Hold it into the fire,” Myra said as if that were the most normal thing in the world and the act wouldn’t melt the skin from my bones.

  “Of course,” I muttered. “Why wouldn’t I hold a book into a fire? How silly of me to even have to ask.”

  “You’re stalling.”

  “No shite, witch,” I growled. “I’m not eager to feel the pain of fire. I usually try to avoid getting burned, if possible. It’s not high on my list of pastimes.”

  “Just get it over with. If Hilda wants fire to reveal the words, then she will have made it so the fire wouldn’t hurt you.”

  “I hope you’re not just blowing smoke up my petticoat.” I raised up a bit on my knees so I could lean forward. The heat of the fire was intense, but it wasn’t burning me so far. After another second of hesitation, I plunged the book into the fire along with my hands. I gasped. I could feel the heat on my skin, but the searing pain I expected never came.

  “Told ya,” Myra muttered.

  “Yeah, yeah. Gloat all you want. It wasn’t your hands going into the fire,” I said.

  Myra ignored me as she began another spell as she’d done for the previous elements. “Refining fire, bright and bold, reveal on your pages what you’ve been told.”

  I took a sharp intake of breath when I began to see a subtle change in the open pages. “Something is happening.”

  Myra scooted closer. I worried she might topple into the flames if she wasn’t careful. Then I couldn’t help but wonder if I fell into the flames while holding the book, would the rest of me burn or would the magic prevent me from going up in a fiery inferno just like it was doing with my hands?

  “Well, I’ll be a witch’s cauldron.” Myra chuckled.

  Refocusing my gaze on the book, I nearly dropped it as I read the words that appeared.

  “Took you two long enough. I was beginning to think I’d be reincarnated into a second life before you figured out how to read my book.”

  “Is she insulting us from the grave?” I glared at the book as if it were Hilda sitting right in front of me. What could I say—the woman brings out the best in me, even in death?

  “Looks that way.”

  I shook my head. Starting to pull the book from the flames, I stopped abruptly. “Do we have to leave it in the fire to read it? Or can we take it out now?”

  “You’ll have to pull it out and see. There’s no telling with that oracle.”

  I was beginning to sweat from the heat of the fire, so I decided it was worth getting out of there, even if for a few minutes. If the words faded, I’d go back in.

  When we were both seated at the table, the book angled between us, I was relieved to see the words hadn’t faded. “Thank the gods for that. I really didn’t want to have to sit in the fire to read the blasted thing. I would have, but I would have complained the whole time.”

  “I’ve no doubt you would,” Myra said, a smirk on her wrinkled face.

  “All right, time to dig in,” I said. I flipped all the way back to the beginning of the book. “Shall I read out loud?”

  Myra nodded, getting comfortable in the chair.

  “Within this book are the prophecies, spells, magics, and thoughts of Hilda, Oracle of Clan Hakon,” I began. “Those who read this book and do not possess the magic to deserve it will understand nothing and face consequences for their breach of privacy. Heed my words, interloper. I will not let your attempt at thievery go unpunished.”

  Pausing, I lifted my brow as I grinned at Myra. “Sounds like she expected someone to find the book, someone besides us.”

  Myra’s face was grim as her eyes met mine. “Let’s hope she was wrong.”

  “There are many reasons to go to into battle. Many things have driven me to fight. And I’ve never been afraid. Not of losing, not of dying. But today, I fight for the one I love. And, for the first time ever, I’m scared. I’m terrified I won’t come through for her.”

  ~Brant

  The fresh, salty air assaulted my senses as I carried another box of supplies onto the longboat, then handed it off to one of Albric’s men. I loved being on the sea. It was home away from home for me. I loved the salt in the air, the heat of the sun off the water, and the crisp coldness when I dipped my hands below the surface

  The week had crawled. I’ve been waiting on pins and needles for Albric’s men to gather from the far reaches of his kingdom. Other than gathering supplies and weapons, I’ve had little to occupy my mind over that period. Albric made the decision to take his forces to war and leave only a handful of men behind to guard the palace.

  As far as he knew, there was no Calder, no evil witch, and his daughter, Dayna, wasn’t being held prisoner against her will. Thomas had stuck to his agreement not to tell his uncle anything about Dayna. The decision wasn’t an easy one. I’d turned it over in my mind the entire journey to England. With every oar stroke, my mind changed. On the one hand, if I had told the king his daughter was being held captive, he likely would have immediately summoned whatever forces he could and flown toward Clan Thornag’s settlement to try to rescue her, declaring war on any northern clan he passed along the way. At first, I thought this preferable, as it might mean my Dayna was back in my arms sooner rather than later. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized it
was the wrong strategy. Not only would it hurt relations between the Northmen and the English, something Torben was trying to repair, but it also put Dayna at greater risk.

  Dayna wasn’t a high-value prisoner. She had no special gifts like her sister Allete. Beyond being a bargaining chip because of her royal status, what use was she to Calder and Gisele? None. If Albric landed with an army, Calder or Gisele would likely slit Dayna’s throat without a second thought. No, the more sensible move was to utilize stealth to rescue Dayna. I wasn’t the stealthiest of men, but I was much quieter than an English army. I’d just have to slip in and steal her back before anyone knew she was missing.

  I already had a plan, well…the beginnings of a plan. Actually, it wasn’t so much of a plan as I’d simply made up my mind to slip away when no one was watching and sail as fast as possible to Clan Thornag under the cover of darkness. I’d figure out the rest along the way.

  I decided to take the ship in which I’d arrived. Torben and I had originally planned to use this ship to transport Albric and his men back to Ravenscar. But Albric had salvaged two more ships from the burned wreckage Cathal had left behind and made them ready to sail to travel to meet Torben. While my third ship would be of value in transporting additional men, Albric would just have to do without it. Sorry, Your Majesty, it’s for your daughter.

  Much more difficult was finding a skeleton crew to help me pilot the thing. I could have asked Thomas for assistance, but I didn’t want him to know my plans. I’d already asked him to lie about one thing to the king. I wouldn’t ask him to tell even more lies. All Northmen prided themselves on their seafaring acumen, and I was no different. I could sail a hollow log across the English Channel blindfolded with both hands tied behind my back. But the lumbering English cog I was forced to pilot was cumbersome and would take more than just one man, no matter how skilled. Unfortunately, I was completely alone in this foreign land and had no idea who I could trust. I couldn’t simply grab a couple of Albric’s guards and force them to accompany me across the water to the crags of Scandinavia to rescue the king’s daughter. And by the way, guys, don’t tell the king where we’re going You know, just in case he asks. But I would have to figure out something quick. Every day that passed brought with it more anxiety, more fear that Dayna was being hurt, tortured, or worse.