Elementals small magick, p.11
Elementals: Small Magick, page 11
“You have too much Power to risk not controlling it. Who knows what you might do, unsupervised and untutored? Let me consider what I must add to your exercises this evening.”
“Thank you for your instruction so far. I would not have found the key to accomplish this today without your help. You say you have never heard of anyone being cured who was afflicted as Betsy was. Can I do such a thing because I’ve always worked as a healer?” An unspoken question hung between them. Or am I truly a mage of immense Power? She both yearned and dreaded confirmation of her suspicions.
Kelsh frowned for a moment before answering. “It may be that. ‘Twill take time to determine where your greatest talents lie. Most mages have an affinity for one thing or another. Your strength may indeed be the healing arts but I caution you to not be hasty. Do not seek to extend your efforts beyond your control. There is no need to put the cart before the horse. You are doing very well, better than I expected. Continue your studies and you will find where you are comfortable.”
Pleased with his words, Drey walked along beside him in comfortable silence.
Her mood changed when they neared the path to her cottage. Cyrus stood in the lane, watching them approach. The set of his shoulders, indeed every line of his body, was rigid with disapproval.
She hurried to introduce the two men, mage and air spirit. How should she describe what Cyrus was, in and of himself, as well as to her? Should she invite Kelsh to her home for refreshment before they continued the trek back to his holding? The social obligations of having her master in her home were beyond her.
“Master Kelsh, this cottage is where I live and this is Cyrus.” What more could she say?
The men shook hands.
Kelsh stumbled back a bit and paled. “You…you…you are—”
“Aye. That I am.” Cyrus leaned forward. His blue eyes shifted to a stormy gray. A stiff wind sprang up, blowing the mage back another step. “You would do well to remember it.”
The air crackled between them as the wind strengthened.
Kelsh straightened and pushed back, a narrow nimbus of fire surrounding him. The embroidered band on his mantle pulsed as if the flames were real. Drey blinked twice to clear her vision but they still leapt and swayed.
“I have wondered where you came from, what lies in your past,” Cyrus said, his eyes locked on Kelsh’s. “I have a better idea now. Do not harm her.”
A particularly hard gust buffeted Drey. She pulled her skirts close and struggled to keep her balance.
“Or you will do what?” Kelsh smiled, his lips thinned with effort. He strove to maintain his footing and his fiery aura flared darker and wider. “You should keep in mind that fire consumes air.”
“And enough wind can extinguish flame.” Cyrus grinned. He widened his stance. The wind increased again. “I am willing to wager I command enough. Are you?”
Sweat broke out on Kelsh’s brow. His cloak billowed out behind him, the embroidered flames around the hem seething as they flapped. He visibly struggled to gain control.
All at once, the fight went out of him. He relaxed and smiled. “Why are we arguing? I have no intention of harming Drey. She’s the most talented apprentice I’ve ever seen. How could I benefit from hurting her?”
Cyrus backed down as well, although his eyes still glowed tempest-dark and the breeze persisted. Drey had the sense that the storm still threatened, out of sight over the horizon. “I have no idea how you might but then I do not know you and the ways of mortals defy logic. Remember that she is under my protection.”
“I will not forget.” He turned to Drey. “Perhaps you would like some time at home before you return to your work. I will expect you by suppertime. We will discuss your additional exercises after the meal.” Before she could answer, he turned and strode away.
Cyrus drew her close. Together they watched him until he was out of sight.
“I still do not trust him.”
She responded simply, “I know.”
“He is too much of a cipher. Where did he come from? Who trained him? The answers are important.”
Drey nodded. “I know they are—to you. I have seen more of the man in these last few days. He is compassionate. He’s devoted to his work.”
“I care nothing for his work. I care about you.” He turned her to face him. Fiercely he gazed into her eyes. “Should he harm you, I will kill him.”
A chill ran through her. Whom should she trust, the spirit who loved her or the mage who could teach her to harness and control her Power?
Chapter Ten
She returned to her apprenticeship to find Kelsh closeted with guests. The dark man Gregor was among them. When she rode into the yard that morning, he stood amid the herbs. A shiver ran through her, for the morning sun shone brightly all about him yet he remained in shadow. ‘Twas as if the light avoided him.
He constantly found something that required her assistance. One day ‘twas a missive he asked her to pen, another he had a parchment to be translated. The texts were unremarkable, a description of his travels and a list of accounts at a large estate. She’d seen similar ones in the many boxes tucked away beneath the benches in Kelsh’s tidy work shed. She acquitted the tasks quickly, to be out of his presence as soon as possible.
One day her master requested her presence in the great room after the noontime meal. She left Rose to finish cleaning up the kitchen and did as he bid. She found herself facing his assembled guests, including two she hadn’t known were visiting.
A tall man with stooped shoulders and a beak of a nose had been in residence for several weeks, keeping mostly to himself. He carried an odd smell about his person, something Drey could not quite identify although she was certain she’d encountered it before. Stains on his fingers and robe indicated that he was some sort of alchemist, working on a formula for anyone, mage or no, to turn cheap metals into gold. He wore an absentminded expression, as if he were not quite sure why he was there.
“Come in, my dear Drey, come in.” Lord Parren, one of Kelsh’s most frequent visitors, answered her knock on the door. With his ready jokes and friendly banter, he was the entire staff’s favorite guest. He smiled and took her hand, leading her into the room. “Thank you once again for a delicious meal. I look forward to my visits here, for the table is always laden with delights.” He showed her to a seat.
“Thank you, Lord Parren. It is my pleasure to serve you.”
He lowered his voice and winked. “Don’t tell your master but I sometimes go a little bit out of my way to stop here.”
“I heard that, Parren.” Kelsh chuckled. “I told Rose to prepare cold meats and cheese for our late meal, so don’t bother flattering her to get a prime serving.”
A movement in the shadows caught Drey’s attention and she missed Parren’s jest in response. The small, disheveled man who often brought a load of meats to the kitchen door almost blended into the woodwork, dressed as he was in shades of dark brown and dust. She wondered at his inclusion in this company of men who appeared to be his betters. He watched her curiously as Kelsh asked her to be ready to make notations as they spoke.
The self-important and well-dressed Lord Roland had claimed the seat by Kelsh at dinner and occupied that place here as well. He spoke continually to Kelsh and Gregor in an undertone, ignoring the others seated around him while Drey sharpened her quill and opened the inkwell.
“Parren, if you’re done flirting with the help, we can begin.” Gregor spoke in a dry tone, clipping his words. He was clearly in charge of this meeting. Surely it must be a meeting, for she could not imagine it could be other than planned. So many diverse characters would only gather by mutual and prior agreement.
The subtle tingle of the wards she had felt as she crossed the threshold confirmed her suspicions, for Kelsh only protected his rooms when he felt it necessary. Whether his intention was to prevent something from getting in or getting out was what she didn’t know.
Kelsh spoke first, welcoming them all, but Gregor was the one who barked questions and controlled the order of presentation. What they discussed, Drey never knew. She hadn’t felt the spell take hold but she was certain they bespelled her. How else could she be rendered unaware of what they said? Although she did write constantly, the words streaming from her quill without her volition, the sounds they voiced meant nothing to her.
Whatever the first topic, they were not all in agreement. Drey did not have to hear the words to tell that Lord Parren and Kelsh were at odds with the alchemist, the butcher and Lord Roland. Gregor appeared not to take a side, pitting the two factions against one another as tempers frayed and voices rose in anger.
Gregor watched her closely, appearing to pay as little attention to what he and his companions were discussing as she did. His eyes were strange, with no contrast betwixt the pupil and iris, totally black. That unwavering regard disturbed her. Once she glanced up and caught him wearing a curious little smile, one that looked as though he were anticipating a particularly nasty pleasure. The expression chilled her blood and made the hair on her neck stand up.
They finally reached an impasse and Kelsh introduced another subject, one on which they were of one mind. In short order, the details were agreed upon and Drey’s services were no longer required.
She fled as soon as she was dismissed, to hide in the work shed and shake the lingering horror by playing a soft song on her little reed pipes. The song and thoughts of Cyrus soothed the upset caused by the strange mage Gregor. There was no question in her mind that Gregor was no servant of the light. She wished she could discuss with Cyrus the meaning of the gathering she’d just left but he would only remind her of the concerns he’d voiced before her apprenticeship began. He’d been wrong about Kelsh, as far as she could discern, but the frightening company her master kept was clearly what he’d expected. She owed him an apology.
What would she do without Cyrus? She’d come to depend upon him in so many ways. He was not only caring for her home and creatures in her absence, he cared for her. He was a calming presence in her life. He filled her with happiness and completed her in a manner no man ever had. In his company, she’d seen wonders and discovered unparalleled joy. She owed him far more than an apology.
No matter how great a void he would leave in her life, she owed him a swift return to his true form. She believed her apprenticeship to Kelsh, however little time she had spent here so far, had furthered her skills and confidence and unlocked that ability.
When her hands no longer trembled and she could write, she set herself with a heavy heart to craft the spell to return Cyrus to his natural state. What was appropriate to include, what would properly convey her intent?
The four elements were important and sky images. His mortal form had been sparked by her imaginings of desirable men. She wrote a series of words across a scrap of parchment.
Soar.
Eagle.
Returning him to his world would make his journey come full circle.
Symmetry.
What would best describe Cyrus? He was an elemental, a wind spirit. How did that make him different? She stroked the feathery quill across her lips and spent some time thinking about this. He was not mortal but did that make him immortal? She wasn’t sure enough about that to describe him using that term. An incorrect reference might negate the spell at best and cause it to blow up in her face at worst.
A spirit. Not mortal. Called from the sky.
Not of woman born.
Perfect. Deciding what elements to include and what not to say soothed her frazzled nerves. Gradually she calmed enough to sleep. She filled several pages with notations before her eyelids grew heavy.
*
Her next respite from study and work came a fortnight later. Arriving home at dusk, she found Cyrus still disconsolate at his imprisonment, though he tried to hide it.
She could barely contain her secret. Tomorrow she would send him back!
He’d not only cared well for her livestock, he’d cleaned the cottage and weeded the beginnings of her garden. When she thanked him, he shrugged and said he’d been bored and needed activity of some sort. She found a pot of hearty beef stew simmering over the fire and flour measured out for biscuits.
A short time later they sat down together to enjoy the meal.
“Your precious Mousie has missed you. I often see him climbing the path up the mountain or coming down from there. I think he hikes up to the meadow to see if he can see you.”
She gave a gurgle of laughter. “I can hardly credit him undertaking that kind of exercise, all for the missing of me. He considers it to be an extreme effort to climb the wall so he can soak up the heat from the sun and the stone.”
Cyrus put out a hand, touching her lightly on the arm. “I’ve found my feet taking that path as well.”
Their eyes met. She read sorrow mingled with desire. He, too, must be torn with conflicting desires. She could take care of one of them for him now and the other in the morning.
Drey pushed her bowl back and rose. “I’ve had enough for now. Come.” Holding her hand out, she invited him to her bed.
Neither spoke as they shed their clothing. Drey paused to crumble a few sprigs of lavender on the bed. Cyrus knelt among the dried flowers to touch her gently where she stood.
“I have missed you.” His fingers caressed her shoulder, moving up to cup her cheek.
She turned her face into his palm and kissed him. “As I have missed you.” As I will miss you, spoke her heart.
His work in her garden had left him with darker arms, hands and neck where sunlight had tanned his fair skin. Where he had been slender and firm before, he had acquired sculpted muscle. His pale torso almost glowed as she ran her hands over his contours. She could feel the increased strength and power.
He sucked in a breath as her hands traced the flexing muscles, caressing and expressing her love for him with each touch. He caught her hand and brought it to his mouth, pressing kisses on each knuckle and fingertip.
“I never realized the work you do. Since I have experienced the rigors of housekeeping and caring for your garden, I marvel anew at your abilities. Mortals have lived thusly for so long and you must work so hard, just to keep your families clothed and fed. I now know this body was not made only for pleasure, although I find a different satisfaction in wielding a hoe or an axe.” Turning her hand palm up, he lightly nipped at the base of her thumb. “I have calluses to match yours.”
“But we are still very different.” She was thinking of how his attitudes were still those of an elemental but he took her comment otherwise.
He grinned and moved her hand down to his cock. “Aye, and blessings on those differences. Enough of serious matters. I have spent hours in the care of your concerns. Now I wish to spend myself in you.”
When she would have pulled her hand away, he arched a brow. “Do I not deserve a reward? You have been off playing at magick, while I dug up weeds and carried your great beast of a cat up the mountain.”
“Oh, you did not!” She gasped and slapped his shoulder. “Do not spoil him so! He will expect it and grow even fatter, until he must be carried everywhere!”
Cyrus shrugged, looking a bit sheepish. “He commands me and I must obey. Much like his owner.”
“Hmph. There is still a question of who owns whom here, although I do try to keep the upper hand.”
“Upper hand, lower hand, it’s all the same to me, as long as your hands are on me.” He lay back and stretched out with his hands behind his head. They both stared at his rampant cock, jutting out of the pale curls between his thighs. He twitched an unseen muscle inside his belly and the head bobbed in her direction. “Now tell me, what is your pleasure?”
“You appear to be awaiting your pleasure,” she complained with a laugh.
“Nay, ‘tis not so! I am yours to command.” His mouth turned down in a pout. “Do not gripe so. I command you to kiss me.”
“Where?”
“Everywhere!”
They came together in heat and tenderness. The desire to create the best of memories infused them both with bittersweet passion. When one moved, the other responded instinctively.
He took her at her word, beginning with laughter to find the most unlikely places she would expect to be kissed. The top of her head. The soles of her feet. The point of her elbow. Her laughter changed to sighs of delight as he moved from the unlikely to the most sensitive. He laved her breasts with his tongue, took her fingers completely into his mouth and stroked them gently with his teeth, he even made her squirm with pleasure as he licked between her toes.
When Drey moaned softly in the back of her throat, Cyrus sucked a little harder at her nipple. It seemed that skin glided against skin for a lifetime, or perhaps only a heartbeat. She had to work to stop the tears that threatened to spill. Never before had she shared such love and ecstasy and instinct told her she would never find it again.
When he had covered her entire body with kisses, he gathered her in his arms. “I saved the best for last,” he told her hoarsely as he claimed her lips in a kiss. By turns demanding and devouring, tender and sweet, he showed her how much he loved her. She felt her soul respond, opening to him and welcoming him as she hadn’t before. She knew this would be her last night with him. She concentrated on savoring his flavor, the pressure of his lips and the texture of his tongue as she caressed him with hers.
When she could stand the bittersweet torture no longer, she broke the kiss, panting, “Now, love, ‘tis my turn.”
Following the same path he’d made over her body, she gifted him with a similar laving of his bronzed skin and kisses akin to those he’d given her. When he shivered under her mouth, she prolonged the enjoyment for him, returning again and again to those places she’d learned gave him pleasure. He gasped and shuddered when she finally closed her mouth over the head of his cock. She traced the contours of his shaft, burned them in her memory for the future, her future, which stretched before her in empty years. Without him.
He did not give her long enough to lap up the drops of seed that welled up in her mouth. With a sharp, indrawn breath, he shifted her until she straddled his hips and drew her down into a tight embrace. His heart pounded so hard she could feel it thundering where her thighs were pressed against his chest. His hard cock nudged her back. With his head buried between her breasts, he warned, “You will kill me, should you keep at that.”
