Elementals small magick, p.9
Elementals: Small Magick, page 9
“Pick up this scroll,” he ordered, tossing one of the smaller ones before her on the table. “Tell me about it.”
The writing had been penned by some parsimonious scribe, who’d packed as many words on a page as was humanly possible. He—or she, Drey quickly amended her automatic assignment of the male gender to the writer—had squeezed every letter close to its neighbor, barely preserving the integrity of each.
“Aye,” she began, “I remember this one. The writing is as cramped as can be, as if the scribe knew there was little more vellum to be had and needed to lay out the text in only one sheet.”
“Look at the words. Read them aloud to me.”
Drey cleared her throat and quashed the fluttering in her stomach. Opening her mouth, she stammered, “Ah…ah…ah…” and nothing more came forth.
Finally she confessed in wonderment, “I cannot.”
“Do you know why?” His dark eyes bored into hers.
“Nay, the words make sense to me but I cannot say them.”
“That is because they are in a dead language, one you have not encountered before. This is written in a language of the ancients, one long lost to human tongues.”
Drey gaped at him. How could she understand words she’d never seen before? Surely he must be jesting with her.
“You wished to understand them and so you did.” He grinned at her, an unexpected flash of bright teeth against his black beard. “I told you that you were capable of great things.” He waved a hand at the shelves of scrolls she’d spent the last two days reading. “Most of these are in languages foreign to you. I set you the task to evaluate your suitability to me as an apprentice. You have passed the first test, with ease and better than I had hoped. Now go home, think about what you’ve learned and return here in three days. Be prepared at that time to assume the full duties of an apprentice.”
He quickly gathered up the crockery and crumbs from their meal. “From that time on, I will expect you to prepare our meals, in addition to other tasks I will set before you. I can guarantee it will be interesting, having new worlds opened before you, but you will work harder than you ever have worked before.”
Kelsh cocked a dark brow at her. “Your arrival is timely. I’ve just sent my cook to look after a friend who is ill. I hope your cooking skills are up to the task. I feed all my workers. That’s two gardeners, the stable lad, a kitchen drudge, the fellow who does my spinning and weaving, two guards and a courier who is sometimes here. With the two of us, that’s ten. Occasionally one or more friends or associates of mine will come for extended visits.”
She opened her mouth to ask about provisions. He forestalled her with another wave of his hand.
“The larder is well stocked. You will find whatever you need.” Balancing the tray on one hand, he herded her out the door. “Your mule is in the stable. Egan has him bridled and ready for your departure.” At her questioning glance, he continued, “I prefer a household that runs smoothly, which means I am in command. Now go and return in three days.”
Drey found her mule contently grazing outside the stable. She poked her head into the building to thank Egan but found it empty save for another mule and the horses, a dappled gray and two blacks. Shrugging, she swung onto the mule’s broad back and turned it downhill toward the bustling village and the river.
Mousebane greeted her warmly in the shed tucked against the side of her cottage, ignoring the rustling of what must be rodents in the hay.
“I’ll be adding a friend for you soon, one I hope will take the duties of a cat more seriously than you do,” she told him as she knelt down to give his neck and cheeks a good scrubbing with her knuckles. “Lazy fellow.” He stretched under her attentions, putting his shoulder down and rolling onto his back to offer his belly for the same treatment. She kneaded the incredibly white fur he exposed. “How you can keep so clean, I’ll never understand.” He gave a little meow and writhed in ecstasy. “Of course, you don’t do anything to get dirty, do you?” she chided him before straightening.
Cyrus met her at the door to her cottage. “I didn’t expect to see you before nightfall.” He hugged her to him. “I was concerned about him letting you go at all.”
She smiled at him, grateful that he wasn’t still angry with her. “Relax, my love. He’s a mage, not a monster.”
Chapter Eight
“He’s a man. That’s reason enough for me not to trust him.” Cyrus nuzzled her neck. “You smell a bit different.” He inhaled close to her skin. The rushing air cooled her enough to cause a shiver. “Like spices.”
“Oh, Cyrus, it’s incredible! He’s got the biggest workroom I’ve ever seen, filled with all manner of herbs and tools and exotic things. I can learn so much from him.” Drey slipped from his embrace and grabbed his hands, pulling him into the cottage. “I actually read scrolls in different languages!”
He gave her a tolerant smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “What else did you do?”
She babbled on about Kelsh’s unorthodox teaching methods, of how she’d discovered so many different voices and ideas in the scrolls. He let her go, until she rambled to a halt.
“So, what did you do whilst I was gone?” She arranged her skirts about her on the stool.
“Oh, I did a little of this and a little of that. Mostly I missed you.”
His lopsided smile touched her heart. He’d had naught to do but miss her, whilst she explored new worlds and new skills. He’d been alone but for Mousie, tending her cottage and livestock, no doubt dwelling on his predicament. And here she was, bubbling over with all that she’d seen and done. How selfish could she be? “Did you spend much time on the hill, listening to the whispers of the wind?”
“Aye.” He avoided her weak smile. “I asked them about your friend the mage.”
“And?” she prompted. Her smile fled. There was more to this conversation than she had expected.
“They cannot find any memory of him, any indication of a past.”
Although his words sent a chill through her, she protested, “He’s newly arrived. Mayhap his studies have taken him far afield, to lands you and your fellow spirits wouldn’t know.”
“We wander all over the land, in its entirety. I myself have swept across mountains, fields and oceans, eventually finding myself back where I began. If he’s studied anywhere on this earth, we would know him. Who was he before he came here? Where was he before he came here?”
“How can that be important?”
He regarded her with serious eyes. “You must tell me. You’re the one who made a blind bargain with him. His identity and his past might tell us more about what he’s likely to ask for the price of training you. He could be a creature of the light but he could also be a creature of the darkness.”
“I believe I would feel it if he served the darkness,” she scoffed. “There is no taint or stench of evil about him.”
“Then he feels normal? There are some old and powerful beings who are able to mask their true natures, both dark and light, from others, even those with Talent such as yourself. You never have an odd feeling when he’s near?”
She hesitated. “Aye, he feels somehow different from the mages I know but, never having encountered his like before, I have no idea how the presence of a male mage should feel. He trained elsewhere, so I would expect him to have a different command of his Power.”
“I see by your eyes that you’re not sure. I hope I’m wrong but you are better off keeping a close watch on him.”
Dismay filled her. She’d never been good at dissembling. “The man can read my thoughts! How am I to shield my—or rather, your—suspicions from him?”
Cyrus shrugged. “Don’t. Let him know you wonder about his past. Would that not be normal on your part? If he has nothing to conceal, he’ll satisfy your curiosity. If he explains nothing, you’ll then know to watch him closely.”
She stared at him, digesting his reasoning. “That’s sound. He could have any number of reasons for leaving his past behind. Let him decide if he’s to tell me or not.”
A sizzling and crackling from the fire snagged her attention. A frying pan sat on the edge of the hearth, with steam rising from its contents. She jumped up with a cry. “Have you prepared sausages and onions?”
He had. He’d also prepared their bed, strewing it with small, fragrant, early roses.
She took the time to savor her favorite meal and then went eagerly into his arms.
“Don’t you have exercises to do, before you go back to your master mage?” Cyrus teased.
“Nay, he only wants me to consider what I’ve read.” She plucked at the ties of his braes. “Oh, and to return to him prepared to cook for his entire entourage. Now that I’ve passed his test of reading the scrolls he’ll not be waiting on me any more! ‘Twill be the other way around.”
Cyrus growled and tugged at her sleeve with his teeth. “How’d you like me to wait on you for a while? While you’ve been gone, I’ve been thinking of a few things we could try. Want to come out and play with me?” he breathed into her ear, following the words with a flick of his tongue.
Without haste she drew her gown up and over her head. Undoing the ties at her neck, she loosened the chemise until it dropped to her waist. Standing before him half-naked, she delighted in the hunger on his face. Cupping her breasts with both hands, she held them up for his appreciative inspection. “I’d rather stay in here and play. How about you? Will you insist on going out there by yourself?”
“What are my choices? Hmm… I could be here with you,” he touched her lightly with one finger on her shoulder, “or I could be out there, in the sunshine, with all of nature to keep me company.” Shivers ran through her as he trailed his touch from her shoulder to the hollow at her neck to her other shoulder and back again. With each pass, he dipped lower and lower. She arched forward and up, seeking his touch on her breasts. He held her off, lazily tracing invisible lines of excitement across her skin, taking his time, drawing out the tension as her nipples tightened in anticipation.
“All in all, I’d prefer to have you out there, along with all of nature. However, I will make the sacrifice and remain inside here, with you.” At last he touched her where she longed to be touched, lightly flicking a fingertip across the pebbled peak of each breast. At her indrawn breath, he looked up and their eyes met.
The tenderness in his gaze stole her breath. This was what she’d been missing with Stefan; this was what Robert shared with Jenny. Her vision blurred as hot tears gathered in her eyes and rolled down her cheeks.
He caught one on his finger. “You weep?”
“Only with happiness. You bring me joy.”
“Then I but return the favor, for you are the most beautiful and intriguing mortal I have ever beheld.” His eyes narrowed in sly humor and he gathered her up in a tight embrace. “And the only one I’ve held.”
She smiled into his dear face. “Ah, my love, you are the best gift I could ever receive. I cannot tell you how happy I am that I summoned you and, at the same time, how I am saddened to have bound you.” She began to cry in earnest, sobbing as the tears came.
He rocked her gently. “Hush, I know. Do not think of sadness. Here, with me, today, there is only joy.”
In perfect harmony, they moved together, skin against skin. Not willing to wait any longer, not long enough to permit them to cross to her soft bed, he stripped her skirts from her and laid her back across the table.
While she watched, he tore off his braes. Impatient to possess her, he left them pooled around his ankles while he parted her knees and slid her closer. With one hard thrust, he claimed her. She arched up to meet him with each thrust, matching him stroke for stroke, clawing at his back, pulling him ever closer. His mouth took hers and he possessed her with his tongue and his cock, alternating thrusts of each, seesawing through her, in and out, in and out.
The tension he’d begun with his fingertips escalated, sucking her into a maelstrom of sensation and emotion. Ah, but he felt good, filling her, embracing her. Each time he surged forward, she welcomed him home with a parting of her legs and a relaxing of her inner muscles to ease his way. Reluctant to let him go, she squeezed his cock tightly in protest of his withdrawal.
“Ah, love, you are more than I could ever have asked for,” he panted into her mouth as he drove into her once more.
Emotions assailed her, robbing her of the ability to respond in speech. She dove headlong into the feelings, reveling in their conflicting tugs. So often, she’d longed for such a chance at true happiness but having it was much more complicated, richer and a greater challenge. Desire spread through her, desire and the need to let him know she agreed completely. Regret that she had left him alone. A tenderness she’d not experienced before, mingled as it was with the poignant knowledge that, wonderful as Cyrus might be in his mortal form, he was hers for only a short time.
She suckled at him, encircling his tongue as she encircled his cock, grasping as he pulled back, welcoming him as he thrust in again. By the Goddess, this was ecstasy beyond deserving. She’d been so occupied with her first days of mage-study that she’d barely had time to realize she’d missed him while she was gone but now the scent and the feel of him consumed her. She longed to somehow merge with him, to become one in truth with this man—or whatever he was—who had crept into her heart. He had become a part of her, a necessary element in her life.
How then was she gladly to bid him farewell? How was she to bear watching him return to his ethereal form?
She shied away from the thought, seeking refuge in feeling—feeling the magick dance over her skin, tingle in her toes, throb in her breasts and shiver up her spine. She turned herself over to the welcome weight of his body, the substance of him in and around her, the sheer ecstasy of sensation he gave her as she climaxed. She clenched his cock in a tighter grip as her womb contracted. He surrounded her, filled her and carried her with him to the skies.
*
When she returned to Kelsh, she found him already busy at a cluttered table in the workshop. Before him lay a scroll, held open by the weight of several small clay jars. Around the scroll were scattered various tools and containers, some holding dried leaves, some oily liquids. His fingertips were stained olive green.
“Ah, just in time. I have several passages I want you to translate for me into other words. Your Talent will guide you. I need to be able to make sense of them in light of what I have available here to make the potions.”
She hung her cloak on a peg and came to look over his shoulder.
He waved her to a stool at the next table over. “One is a cure for persistent coughs. The other will require the one who drinks it to speak only truth.”
Her heart leapt within her. He was concerned with healing! Did she dare ask him about Betsy’s malady? Aye, she would dare, she decided. This matter was important enough and he had instructed her upon her arrival to ask what questions she would.
“Have you come across anything to help a woman struck suddenly with a brain problem?”
“Describe her symptoms.” He set down the jar he held and turned to face her. His attention remained riveted on her as she spoke.
“She has bad color, far too pale. Her breath comes quick and shallow. She lies, eyes closed, unaware of her surroundings. A feeling of wrongness in her head.”
His eyes gleamed with interest. “What do you mean, a wrongness in her head?”
She hadn’t anticipated trying to explain how she knew what was wrong with Betsy. She took a deep breath. “When I close my eyes, I see a darkness has settled over her head.”
“And what do you see the rest of the time? Nay, do not bother trying to explain.” He pursed his lips. “That is most likely a tumor, or mayhap a swelling in the brain. I have seen mention of it in several places but no one agrees on the proper treatment. Some claim the skull must be opened to release the evilness within, ofttimes repeatedly, and others say hot compresses are effective. They do not say where one is to apply the heat, however. I myself have never seen anyone recover once afflicted to the point of losing their senses.”
Her disappointment must have shown on her face, for he laid a hand on her shoulder and said, “You must be asking because you know someone who has been stricken. I’m sorry. If I think of something more useful, I will tell you.”
Drey tried to smile. “Thank you. I thought you might know of a treatment I had not come across.”
He gave her shoulder a squeeze. “You learn much when you first realize how little we know. Your Power comes with responsibility. The work we do here in this workshop, and work done by others in sheds and lofts like it across the land, will help fill the gaps in our knowledge. Someday we will be able to help those stricken like your friend.”
His words rang with sincerity. Emotion clogged Drey’s throat and she could only nod her understanding and agreement. If Cyrus had heard this declaration, he’d not think Kelsh served the darkness.
How could she have suspected Kelsh was capable of employing the black arts? Her tension and concerns about working with him had sprung largely from Cyrus’s objections. She had not yet found a way to ask her master about his past. Mayhap she should trust her instincts and cease worrying about his past.
“Work will take your mind off your cares, at least for now.” He picked up the little jar once more and turned his attention to the workbench.
In this, too, he was right. Drey pulled her thoughts away from Betsy and her family.
Pen and ink awaited her, with a stack of clean flat sheets of vellum. She picked up the top sheet, marveling at the pristine whiteness and smooth surface. Every trace of hair had been scoured from the hide. ‘Twas truly the work of a master craftsman. The pages before her alone must have cost a small fortune. With a new respect for the contents of the building, she surveyed the shelves again. There were more stacks of such vellum, and row after row of glass jars and bottles of all sizes and colors. She’d never seen so much wealth in one place.
