Read Haven 5 Blood Magic BOOK Online
Authors: B. V. Larson
“Have you come to escort me to your lands, then?” Brand asked when he had regained some of his composure.
Oberon cocked his head. He stared for a moment with his very odd eyes. “After a fashion,” the elf said.
“Shall we be on our way?” Brand asked. He noted the elf’s eyes had drifted to the rucksack on his back which contained the axe.
Oberon snapped his eyes back to Brand’s and a smile flickered there. “Certainly! Let me show the way! Long has it been since I’ve entertained a human lord in my lands. I’m not quite sure how to be the perfect host.”
With a pasted-on smile, Brand delicately extricated himself from Telyn’s grasping fingers and followed Oberon out into the yard. For a time, he feared Telyn would trail after them. He glanced back over his shoulder to see her staring, eyeing the elf with stern distrust.
Oberon’s white goat stood waiting just within the trees. The axe twitched on Brand’s back when he laid eyes upon it. The beast turned its head and eyed him in return with one red eye. There was an unnatural intelligence in its gaze. Brand frowned at the creature as Oberon threw a leg over its back and grabbed up the reins. Brand had seen the creature only once before, at his own wedding. Had the beast been red-eyed and intelligent then? He could not recall.
Another thought struck him as he followed Oberon down through his apple orchards. Could this be the same mount Oberon had been riding when he led King Herla into the mountain passages so very long ago? A normal goat would have aged and died a hundred times over…but this one seemed anything but normal.
“I’ll need to take my boat,” Brand said, veering from the path Oberon took.
The elf lord turned and looked at him quizzically. “There’s no need for that!” he said, and laughed musically. “Come, I’ll show you.”
Oberon led him not to the low side of the island, the eastern side that looked out toward the Haven Woods. He went instead to the western shore which Brand and his family had often called the ‘high side’ of the island. On this shore, facing the tall trees of the Deepwood, there was a drop of some twenty feet into the flood of the Berrywine. The water moved faster past the high side as the channel narrowed and became more rocky. The high side was almost a cliff, although a crumbling one.
Trying to seem unperturbed, Brand followed the elf and the white-furred rump of his goat. He wondered if all this was somehow a great joke played upon him. Feelings of anger flared at the thought, and had to be stifled down. The axe was merely tense and looking for trouble, he told himself. He knew its sensitivities and paranoid concerns well by now. Still, he was on his guard.
When they reached the highest point on the western cliffs of Rabing Isle, Brand saw their goal. He stopped walking and sucked in his breath.
“A bridge?” he said in wonderment.
Oberon leapt from his goat and performed a sweeping gesture toward the river. “For you, Lord Rabing! I’ve toiled all night to construct it!”
The bridge was not made of stone, as the Kindred might have done. Nor was it assembled from cut tree trunks as the River Folk would have built it. Instead, it seemed to have been
grown
there, and was formed of a single, looping vine of bright green foilage.
Immediately, Brand thought of Myrrdin. He’d not seen or heard of the wizard this last year. Not since they’d had a falling out and warred with the elves upon Snowdon’s shoulders. Surely, this growth was his work.
“Am I mad?” Brand asked Oberon. “Or is this the work of Vaul?”
Oberon looked at him sharply. He paused before answering. “Not exactly. It is an experiment of sorts. You see, I wield the Red—”
“And Myrrdin wields the Green, yes, I know.”
Oberon continued as if the interruption had not occurred. “This is a blended thing. An intertwining of both.”
Brand blinked at the bridge, trying to absorb Oberon’s words. “You mean…you’ve mastered both Jewels? You’ve worked the Red and the Green together—upon my island?”
“After a fashion,” said Oberon. He hopped back upon this goat as he spoke further. “You see, I grew a seedling…a very special seedling…using the power of the Red and the nodules that the Green naturally produces.”
“So you plucked seeds from the Green? Did it turn into a tree again?”
Oberon turned him a slit-eyed stare. “You know about that, do you?” he asked. He shook his head and made a tsking sound. “Ever was Myrrdin’s tongue loose in his head.”
The elf guided his goat out upon the vine bridge. Huge leaves wavered as he brushed by them. Brand followed hesitantly, feeling his way with wary, shuffling boots. The bridge was little more than a two-foot thick growth that arched over the river. It was worse than walking along a fallen tree. A log was at least straight and had bark to give one’s boots something to grip upon. This vine was not
slick
, but it was freshly-grown and smooth. There were huge triangular leaves thrusting up on stalks all the way along the path as well, obscuring it and providing things for a man to kick and stumble over.
Oberon pressed ahead, crossing the bridge without concern. “Come along!” he cried over his shoulder. “There is something on the far side that may interest you.”
Brand stood on the vine and grimaced. He looked down into the river, and gauged he could survive the plunge if he went down. He would probably lose his boots and his dignity, but at least none could say afterward that he’d quailed and balked in fear. What was the elf’s purpose? He had to wonder about it. The entire affair could be a matter of idle caprice, or it could be a sinister game with a definite joke to be played upon him at the end.
He took two more steps out, and found the going reasonable enough. As a river-boy, he was not frightened by the water, nor was his balance less than excellent. But still, some part of him was wary and annoyed with the elf for taking his plans and dashing them all from the outset. As he reached the half-way point of the bridge, he thought he should perhaps take charge of this farce. Perhaps he should draw the axe and slash this vile bridge down. A single stroke—that was all that would be required! Fresh green sap would run like warm blood.
Brand shook his head and continued. Oberon watched him from the far side now. Brand increased his pace, wanting to be across it and done with the whole thing.
“What do you think of your unique gift?” Oberon asked him.
“I thank you for the thought,” Brand said as he drew closer to shore. “I would have rather you put the bridge on the far side, however, spanning to the Haven Wood.”
“Of course,” Oberon said. “Unfortunately, that was not within my capacities.”
Brand approached and hopped off the vine with a sense of relief. He stood now at the foot of the tall, dark trees of the Deepwood. Already, the land seemed hushed on this bank. Even the river babbled more quietly in his ears. Brand marveled at the vine, admiring it.
“Quite an amazing thing,” he said. “And I’ve always dreamt of making a connection between the island and the riverbanks.”
“I know,” said Oberon. “I need your help in this matter, you see.”
“My help?” Brand asked incredulously.
“Yes,” Oberon said. “To grow a more substantial bridge would require a fine work, more control. I envision a safer structure, with a dished out center and leaves growing only along the sides.”
Brand stared at the vine. “You could do that?”
“Yes. I believe I could, but as I said, I would need your help. You once wielded two Jewels once. None I know who draw breath today have managed the feat. I’ve tried, but failed. This beastly thing was one of my few partial successes, you see. Blood and plant can work together, but the results aren’t always as desired, and the greater problem lies in containing both Jewels as they war within one’s mind.”
Brand stared that the elf, who stared back intently. Did Oberon really expect he could be describe the process of containing two Jewels in simple words? He’d worn the Blue Jewel Lavatis and carried the axe with Ambros embedded in its head for a brief time, but he’d never tried to work the two together. He’d never tried to get the Rainbow to pick up and swing the axe, for example. He had barely managed to keep from going mad. Just having both the Jewels in contact with his person at once had threatened his sanity.
“I bore them, but did not seek to twist together their magic as one might braid hair,” Brand said.
“But how did you even manage that much? Tell me your secrets, if you would.”
“There is no secret,” said Brand, shaking his head. “I think if there is one, it is in the utter innocence of the bearer. By not knowing I could not wield two Jewels, by not understanding what it would be like, I managed to muddle through. Call it beginner’s luck. It was nothing I’d care to repeat.”
Oberon gazed at him, and slowly nodded. “You’ve answered as well as you could. And your insight might not be as valueless as you think. In return, let me show you how I managed to grow this wondrous bridge.”
Brand followed Oberon, who walked to a spot where the huge leaves grew in profusion. They stood at the base of the growth, where a wild spray of greenery erupted. Brand expected to find roots there, tangled and thick. What he saw at first baffled him, and then as understanding sank in, it caused his stomach to roll over in his guts. A pile of furs lay about—but they were
not
furs, they were empty sacks of hide. They had recently been living animals he knew, with their insides leeched away.
“What’s happened here?” asked Brand in disgust. “Is that an elk carcass I see?”
“The two Jewels,” Oberon explained. “I needed
big
animals, you see, to feed this large of a growth. The kind of animals which only flourish in the Deepwood.”
Brand looked at him in alarm. “Are you telling me this vine is grown with blood as well as leaf and stalk?”
“Exactly!” cried Oberon, almost dancing in agitation. “Isn’t it fantastic? It was my greatest experiment.”
“It’s disgusting!” shouted Brand. His breathing caused his sides to heave and he gulped air. His teeth bared themselves as might those of angry wolf. His hand trembled, but he did not yet reach for the axe.
“Not perfect, no,” Oberon said.
Brand stared, barely able to credit what he was seeing and hearing. He kicked aside leaves and stalks to get a better view of what lie here on his riverbank, hidden by the massive, fluttering leaves. There were feeding tubers, operating like hoses or straws, which ran from each carcass to the plant’s thick root. This elf had gone too far. He had intruded with his magical experiments upon Brand’s own home isle. He’d practiced his vile research upon Haven lands without permission.
“What of Myrrdin?” Brand demanded. “Why is he not bearing his Jewel? Why does he not instruct you on the use of the Green, if that is his wish?”
“He is…missing.”
“I see,” said Brand. He stood tall and grasped the haft of his axe. Strength and resolve surged through him, and later he could not recall drawing it forth—but there it was, in his hand. He walked to the root of the thing that had been grown across the Berrywine. With a single flashing stroke, he chopped it down. A massive, rippling roar went up as the living bridge splashed into the churning river. The vine cracked and snapped on the far side, breaking away from Rabing Isle. A section of the cliff tore free with it, showering clumps of soil and stones into the river. Brand watched in satisfaction as the entire thing collapsed and was washed downstream.
“Your latest abomination befouls Haven waters,” Brand complained. He watched the bridge roll over and partly sink. The fast-moving waters tugged at it, however, pulling it downstream.
At Brand’s feet, a vile substance bubbled and spat. It was a mix of blood and sap, as far as Brand could see. It came up from the roots which had simultaneously drunk at the river, suckled the dead animals dry and consumed the soil of the riverbank.
Oberon watched the proceedings coldly. “I take it you did not approve of my gift,” he said.
“No. Please never grow another new evil upon my lands.”
“Will you still come to the weddings?”
Brand thought about it. He wiped the axe clean on huge leaves nearby and dipped the blades in the river. The shining edges were soon clear. He shoved the weapon back into his rucksack and let go of it. He could think more clearly once he’d released the handle.
“I will come, because I’ve said that I would. But I will not help you master Myrrdin’s Jewel.”
“Tomorrow night at the mound, then,” said Oberon, touching his hat in salute. He turned his goat into the Deepwood. Soon, he’d vanished into the gloom under the trees.
Brand looked after him, wondering what this was all about, and wondering how far he would have to walk to find a boat. Cursing every elf the worlds had seen fit to birth, he began walking downriver toward Hamlet. If he walked all night, he could get a ferry from there to Riverton.
END Excerpt
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Books by B. V. Larson
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