Sword's Call (8 page)

“
How
do you know our names?” Cera demanded, throwing a glance at Jorrin.

He shrugged and looked at Avery, who just shook his head.

“I know your name, my dear, and that of young Lord Lenore, from him.” The elf pointed to Trikser, who wuffed to reassure his mistress. “Animals have always been my gift. Young Master Aldern, on the other hand, I’ve been waiting for.”

“What?” Jorrin sputtered. “Just
who
are you?”

He’d dreamt someone was calling him—for months.

When the wizard said he’d been waiting for him, Jorrin’s magical senses tingled, warming his arms and legs, making his fingertips quiver.

He shook his hands as everything clicked into place.

The wizard had been calling him . . . that’d been the reason he’d had no real objection to Cera’s travel route. He
had
to journey this way, to this cabin, to this wizard.

There was something
familiar
about him.

“Well, I’m glad you finally asked,” the elf said with a laugh and a wry smile. “My name is Hadrian Rowlin, and I know your parents.”

His heart thundered. Shock rolled over him, and he stifled a gasp. Jorrin locked his gaze on the wizard, ignoring curious looks from Avery and Cera. “
You’re
Hadrian . . . Mother spoke of you often, though she thinks you dead . . .”

“Your mother was always beautiful, yet she never had much faith in wizards, or magic, for that matter.” The elf chuckled and waved his wand.

Four goblets materialized and settled into each of their hands as if they had reached for them.

Jorrin focused on the old elf’s face. Intelligent pale blue eyes, so pale they were almost clear, stared out from under the brim of the hat.

“You should have finished your training, lad,” Hadrian admonished with a shake of his wand in Jorrin’s direction. “Your powers are greater than you know.”

He ignored the comment and muttered thanks for the drink. Cera and Avery did the same. “Where’s my father? You left to find him . . .”

“Aye, you were just a baby. He and your mother were my dearest friends. I owed it to her to find him.” Hadrian shook his head. “But I never did.” His sorrow hit Jorrin’s magic, making him wince.

“But you left
to
find him, and you never returned. Mother
mourned
you.”

Sorrow shifted to regret, and Jorrin’s heart ached for the elf wizard. Though he’d never admit it, Hadrian was lonely and sad. He had no desire to talk about Jorrin’s father, but he felt it was necessary.

The rush of emotion was more than Jorrin normally felt from someone he didn’t know well, but the wizard’s mind was open. And he was aware of the information Jorrin had just absorbed from him.

“I searched and searched for him . . . not far from
here
is where I sensed him last. There’s a small village nearby, on the outskirts of Berat, but you know that.” He glanced at Cera. “I decided to settle here temporarily, in hopes he’d return. I meant to go back to the mountains, to Aramour, but I had nothing to lose by staying here. I had nothing there . . . I’d lost my lifemate, my child was gone . . .”

“But you had
us.
You
promised
my mother. You could’ve sent word . . .” Jorrin clenched his fists so tightly his knuckles smarted.

“The pain was too great. My gift is animals. I can heal, as well as understand them, and the villagers often call upon me. I was fortunate to have found a place that does not mind our kind. I settled here, trying to forget what I had lost, trying to forget Aramour. The battle was more than I could deal with, and I was wrong to promise your mother I could find him. He had to run, you know. Did she tell you that?”

“Yes.” Jorrin’s whisper was bitter.

“I looked for him, Jorrin, using magic and tracking alike. Whenever I sniffed him out, the trail was cold. He was just
gone.
When I got here, I felt a sort of finality about it, and I knew until he
wanted
to be found, he’d not be, by friend
or
enemy. His powers were as great as my own.” Hadrian chuckled. “When I train someone, I do my job well, even if they are not born an elf.”

“You were his closest friend.” Jorrin swallowed hard. “He always promised to come back when it was safe. Mother said he held me for hours before he left. That
used
to comfort me . . .”

“He left to protect you,” Hadrian said.

“I would rather he stayed, so I could know my father.”

“You might have been killed. With him gone, he knew his family would be protected.”

“Yes, well he entrusted that to
you,
his closest friend, but even you left.”

“She made me promise to find him, you know that,” the wizard snapped. His fists clenched and his blue eyes flashed.

Jorrin had hit a nerve, but he didn’t feel guilty. He leaned forward, glaring.

Cera laid her hand on his arm to keep him in his seat, and he glanced at her—half grateful, half annoyed.

He didn’t take a moment to revel in her touch. “Something you’ve struggled with?”

“I see you have talent as an empath,” Hadrian said.

Jorrin nodded.

“He was a great empath, you know. Quite a strange natural trait in a human mage. And may I say, you favor him, in height and coloring. Of course, your mother’s ears and eyes may give you away. Yet, that doesn’t seem to bother the lovely lady here.”

Cera blushed scarlet, yanking her hand from his forearm.

Jorrin let her reaction go, his stomach fluttering. He wanted to save her embarrassment, but wished he could reach for her. Their kiss danced into his mind, but he pushed it away.

Not now.

He cleared his throat and met the wizard’s pale eyes. “So, why were you waiting for me?”

“Because
you
have to find your father. He will be needed.”

“He’s not dead?” Jorrin held his breath for the elf’s answer.

“I never said he was dead. I just said
I
couldn’t find him.”

“I left Aramour against my mother’s wishes to find him, Hadrian. It’s been three turns . . . I have yet to come across the smallest clue to his whereabouts. How can
I
find him, and
why
will he be needed?”

“Only you, his son, can find him. He’ll be needed, of course, to help
her
cause.” The wizard pointed to Cera with his wand.

“
What?”
Cera, Jorrin, and Avery exclaimed at the same time.

Chapter Six

“But we have to get to Tarvis
now.
We can’t wait,” Cera argued for what seemed the thousandth time. She looked at Avery, who was nodding. At least her cousin agreed. “The more time we waste, the more damage Varthan will do. We
have
to go now.”

“I’m afraid it would do you no good,” Hadrian’s tone was quiet, but firm. “The lad’s father is your only hope.”

Jorrin sighed, his chest heavy, shoulders slumped. How was he supposed to find a man he’d been looking for since he’d left home three full turns earlier? He hadn’t run into
any
signs.

Hadrian was master of magic, and
he
couldn’t find him . . . so how was he, a half-trained mage, supposed to?

When he’d left Aramour, finding his father had been the original plan, but his search for months had proved fruitless, the task near impossible. He’d refused to crawl home, proving his mother right, so he’d focused on living. Moved around from place to place, feeling for magic, continuing to half-search, but finding nothing. He hadn’t exactly given up, but his search had fallen into the background.

He had to eat, so he picked up coin any way he could: tracking, and selling himself as mercenary a time or two. Jorrin had even lowered himself to performing magic tricks in busy parts of the cities he’d been to, though that was only when he had been especially desperate. He wasn’t proud of it, and definitely wouldn’t admit it aloud.

Of course he wanted to find his father; that fact had never changed, but never in a million turns did he think Cera would play a part in the search.

Time was everything right now; he had to agree with her about that.

Gray eyes wide, her desperation poured from her, making his magic ache.

The last thing Jorrin wanted to do was hurt her. “I don’t know what to do,” he admitted.

She deflated, and his heart skipped a beat when her eyes welled with tears.

“Cera . . . don’t . . .”

“Wait a moment . . .” Avery broke in. Three pairs of eyes looked at him expectantly, “Hadrian, do you have spell books?”

“Of course, but why?”

Avery’s expression was sober and serious, more so than Jorrin had ever seen him.

“In some reading I’ve done in the past, I’ve come across some spells that allow wide geographical scrying. Maybe we can leave a message tuned to Jorrin’s father that only
he
can see.” Avery sounded so grown up, Jorrin saw him in a new light.

“Hmmm, that may be possible, but it’ll take some time. I know a few spells, but you’re right to want to look in a book. There’re many variations. Maybe we can find something more powerful than I’m familiar with. Or fashion our own?”

Crafting an original spell that would work was tricky. The words, tone, rhythm all had to line up to form a powerful incantation.

Could the wizard and the boy do it?

Blessed Spirit, give us something.

Hadrian rose from his stool and went over to a large bookcase in the corner of the room. Muttering in Aramourian, he spoke too low for Jorrin to catch what he said. He moved his hands back and forth, squinting to gain a better view.

Just like the rest of the small cabin, the books were full of magic, too. They came forward of their own accord one by one so Hadrian could examine the titles. If it was not the book he was looking for, it would return itself to the shelf in order, and as if it had not been disturbed.

“One of the reasons I failed when I tried was because I didn’t have anything that belonged to Braedon.” Hadrian returned to his stool, three thick tomes on his lap.

The spell books looked old.

Jorrin blinked away sudden emotion at the first mention of his father’s name. “It should work then, this time.” Without another word, he rose and went outside to where their horses were tied.

Grayna neighed, so he took a moment to caress her nose, whispering to her and dropping a kiss on her wide forehead. She lifted her head and lipped his cheek, making him smile. With one last pat to her neck, he went to his saddlebag.

He only had one thing that belonged to his father. His mother had given it to him when he was a little boy, and it’d comforted him many a time when he didn’t understand why his father had left. His hands bumped the cool metal.

“Got it,” Jorrin whispered.

He stared at the belt buckle, his heart pounding. It was meant to be decorative, a fire-breathing dragon etched into it. He ran his thumb over it, feeling the smooth embossed edges. Kissing the buckle, Jorrin sent a small prayer to the Blessed Spirit.

Avery had to be correct, the scrying
would
work.

When he returned to the dwelling, he tossed the buckle to Hadrian.

The wizard hastily caught it. Hadrian smiled. “I remember when your mother bought this for him.” Jorrin just nodded, his voice caught in his throat.

Avery sat at a wooden table Jorrin hadn’t noticed before, already poring over one of the spell books, the other two close beside him. His concentration on his task was complete. Had Cera’s cousin even noticed that he’d come back inside?

“This is going to take a while,” Hadrian remarked, gesturing to Avery. “He’ll need my help. He caught me up on the goings on of that evil man and his shades. Magically speaking, there is much to do.” Then the elf smiled very gently at Cera. “Not to worry, Lady Ryhan, we’ll be as speedy as we can.”

****

Time was slipping through her fingers.

No one was listening to her.

She needed to get to Tarvis.

Cera needed to save what was left of her family, and she
needed
to defeat Varthan. “Time is what we don’t have.” Her voice came out cracked, week. Barely containing her threatening sob. Her throat ached.

“Cera, we need to try,” her cousin urged, not looking up from his task.

She sighed, her body limp, but her chest heavy.

Avery was supposed to be on her side . . . they were
his
parents, after all.

She hadn’t moved from the seat the wizard had first invited her into.

Jorrin laid a hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently.

Cera refused to acknowledge how his comfort made her heart skip a beat, how welcome it was. How she wanted more. When he’d held her by the fire that morning she’d never felt so safe, despite the fact she’d been crying like a weakling.

Trikser whined and rose from the hearth rug, sitting at her feet and looking up at her, amber eyes warm, concerned. He rested his large head on her lap. She placed a hand between his ears, but it was an automatic response. “It’d better work,” she whispered.

“It
will
work, cousin.” Avery looked up from the old tome. His gray eyes bored into her. “I’m as worried as you for my parents, but my mother wouldn’t have sent me away if she thought she couldn’t handle things, believe me. She can scry for us, too. Mother will know what we’re doing.”

Cera shrugged.

What did it really matter?

She didn’t have a choice but to wait.

“Your father had better be
good,”
she told Jorrin, looking up at him.

One corner of his mouth lifted, but he didn’t respond.

Hadrian chuckled. “I trained him . . .” the old elf winked, his blue eyes sparkling.

Cera managed a small smile, leaning into Jorrin as he gave her another comforting squeeze. She didn’t want to resist his touch, she wanted more of it.

“This is going to take me some time, and I need to concentrate.” Avery took a deep breath. “I
will
find what I am looking for, Cera, I promise. And we’ll find your father, Jorrin.”

She grudgingly admired her cousin’s determination.

Jorrin whispered his thanks.

“In the meantime, I’m rather low on supplies . . .” Hadrian grimaced, looking around the room. “It’s a bit late to go into the village . . . can either of you hunt?”