“I must warn you,” she began.
“Then consider me warned. And believe me on this, you didn’t have anything to do with my being at Tordenet. Hall and I made that decision on our own.” Or Hall had, anyway. He’d just tagged along because what else was he going to do but go where the Faeries sent him?
“But I did,” she protested. “You dinna ken the whole of it.”
“Then tomorrow, when you’re all rested, you can fill me in on the whole of it. But for now, you need your sleep.”
“I dinna want to sleep. I dinna want to see those apparitions again this night.” Already her eyelids drooped, belying her protest.
She reached out a hand and he took it. Soft andsmooth, it fit his grasp as comfortably as if it were meant to be there.
Again he dropped to his knees, meeting her gaze at eye level.
“Don’t you worry about a thing, Christy.” The name Orabilis had used fell easily from his lips as if he’d known it always. “I’ll stay right here to guard you while you sleep. Whatever came after you before has no chance of getting to you with me here. I promise.”
She smiled, her eyes closing even as the corners of her mouth curved up and he was lost, determined to spend the whole night right here, protecting her from the hallucinations that plagued her dreams.
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Twenty
SUNSET, AT LAST.
Torquil carefully laid the old scroll on his desk, glancing at the open wooden chest that held its twin. Another fruitless afternoon of chasing the elusive Magic had eaten away his hours. When he returned, he would replace the scroll on its silken bed where it lay with its companion, one on either side of the ancient sword. He hadn’t the time to roll it properly now. He had overly much that required his attention this night.
He began the process of clearing his mind as he removed his clothing, folding each piece and placing it in a neat stack beside the bed of pillows. Lowering his body to the pallet, he ignored the aches and pains of a day spent trying to force the Magic to work. It would come. It would be his. These spells were more challenging than anything he’d done before, but he would master them just as he had the others.
With a glance to the door, he dismissed any concerns about being interrupted. Ulfr usually guarded his lair when he set out on a spirit journey, but hehad nothing to worry over. No one in the entire castle would ever consider entering his tower chambers without his express permission. No one but his sister, and it was her absence that instigated the need for what he was about to do.
Still, caution was his ally. He spared an extra moment for a spell of protection before turning his attention to the task at hand. Now, his only concern was to concentrate, a task made more difficult by the beast within, demanding its freedom. He wrestled the beast back into the dark corner where it lived and reached once again for the concentration this task demanded.
Focus on the breathing. See the shape of what he would be. Will his spirit to take that shape. Feel the great owl claiming him. Become one with the great owl.
In an exhale of breath he rose above his body, taking no time this night to admire the shell that housed his spirit. There was no time for such small pleasures.
Onto the ledge and over it. With a swoop he was airborne, his great wings beating against the cold, damp air.
He circled the courtyard, where the castle’s activity had begun to settle down for the night, and allowed the air current to sweep him up and over the massive walls that protected his keep. Just below and off to the right, the Tinkler wagons camped. He circled, but as he’d expected, the pale green glowof Faerie Magic hung over the encampment like a shroud, all but obscuring the people themselves.
Unexpectedly, a movement within the camp stood out. A glow of red spiked from the canopy of green, like a ruby tumbling through sluggish waters.
What had the Tinklers got their hands on? Some new trinket they’d likely stolen from an unsuspecting host somewhere along the way, he’d guess.
It intrigued him, and at any other time it might bear further scrutiny. But not on this night. He had too many miles to cover, and after a day spent pushing his mind to its limits, he could already feel his energy flagging.
With a flap of his enormous wings he turned west, following the trail he knew all too well.
All sorts of small creatures made their way across his lands this night, but none of them the human prey he sought. He came across Ulfr’s party camped in a small clearing near a stream, their fires burning brightly. Nothing out of the ordinary there.
Torquil lowered his head against the wind and flapped his wings, covering great swaths of ground. Ahead on the right was the wagon his men had abandoned. He circled, dropping lower to inspect the scene more closely. The wagon lay on its side, one wheel clearly broken. From what he could see, only one barrel of flour had been lost, its contents spread all around. The others appeared to be fine. His sister and her witch would have to make do with those because he had no intention of sending more.
Not much farther to go, now. He could already see the glow up ahead.
He couldn’t fly any closer. The dome of color covering Orabilis’s home prevented his approach. Not the soft fuzzy green blanket that masked the Tinklers’ encampment, but a hard, emerald green shell dominated here, with random sparks of color shooting out into the sky. Sparks that could, and had in the past, singed his feathers.
It was the damned rowan trees ringing her property like a chain of sentinels on guard.
He’d known he’d see nothing there, but from here, he’d begin his search, spreading out in ever-widening circles, covering all the distance a mortal on horseback might have covered in the day since Ulfr had last laid eyes on Christiana and Chase.
