Sword's Call (9 page)

“I’m good with a bow, if you have one. Mine’s in Greenwald,” Cera said.

“I can fix that,” the elf wizard said, “if you’d be willing to catch supper.”

“Of course. Are you up for it, Jorrin?”

“Yes.”

Cera’s heart thundered. She’d be alone with him again. She stared into his blue eyes.

Jorrin didn’t look away, either, making her shift on the chair.

“Well, then, let’s get your bow,” Hadrian said.

Reluctantly she tore her gaze away from Jorrin and glanced at the elf.

He raised his wand and began to recite a spell. It was Aramourian, but it was obviously a couplet, the words had flow and sounded as if they rhymed.

The wand began to glow green, and the elf moved it back and forth several times. His chanting became louder and he closed his eyes. The green glow brightened, slowly moving outward from Hadrian’s wand to surround his arm, creeping up until it encircled his whole body like an aura.

A moment later, a bow and a quiver full of arrows appeared before the four of them and hovered in the air.

Cera gasped.

It was her
own
bow, a gift from Captain Moray, leader of the King’s Riders.

She’d received it upon achieving the rank of Senior Rider. She’d had to leave it at Marshek’s tavern in the room where she’d been staying. Mourned its loss, too. Never expected to see it again. Tears blurred her vision.

“Well, go on, I can’t hold it up forever,” Hadrian said.

“How did you . . . ?” Her voice trembled as she rose from the chair and grabbed her prize. Cera took the quiver, slung it over her shoulder, holding the bow with one hand, and landing heavily in the cushioned seat.

She’d always loved the bow. Cera caressed the smooth wood from top to bottom, fingering the grip and hugging it to her chest.

King Nathal himself had bid his weapons crafter make it for her, and it was the finest bow she’d ever owned. It was short, but performed like a longbow and had the smoothest pull she’d ever used. She’d loved it from the first time she’d shot an arrow from it.

“I’m a wizard, that’s how.” Hadrian winked.

“Thank you, Hadrian. I mean it—thank you. This means so much to me.” Cera planted a kiss on the old elf’s cheek. His cheeks reddened, and she giggled.

Jorrin chuckled.

“Get outta here and get me some dinner, then,” the wizard barked.

Jorrin and Cera hurried out, holding the door open for Trikser. They exchanged a grin and then burst out laughing.

She heard Hadrian ask Avery just what he thought he was looking at and her cousin’s answering laugh as Jorrin shut the door.

“Here lad, eat.” Hadrian set the full bowl of hearty deer stew on the table in front of Avery. The redhead didn’t even look up from the dusty old tome.

They’d been able to down a white-tailed deer.

Hadrian was overjoyed he’d not been required to make the kill himself. He’d explained that due to his gift of understanding animals, hunting was very graphic for him. The elf could hear and feel the animal’s pain. Though it was always for sustenance, he couldn’t bear it. He always bought meat from the nearby village market.

“This is delicious.” Jorrin spooned the biggest mouthful he could manage.

The thick venison stew reminded him of home, and his mother’s cooking. If he closed his eyes, there was no doubt he would relive a memory of his mother in the kitchen of his childhood home, stirring a large kettle as it simmered over the fire of the largest hearth. His heart gave a painful twinge.

He missed his mother.

“It is. Hadrian, thank you. Avery, you really do need to eat. You rode hard from Tarvis, and the dried meat I had wasn’t enough,” Cera said over her own bowl.

“I’m busy.” He still pored over the old book. Avery didn’t even spare her a glance. “I have to find it. I have to find
the
right one.”

“Geesh, no wonder you’re so skinny,” Hadrian exclaimed, shaking his head. “Don’t be foolish, lad.”

Cera’s cousin still did not look up from the book.

“The dedication is appreciated, but you need to eat, or you won’t be able to do a damn thing with whatever you see in there,” Jorrin said.

“Come on, cousin,” Cera encouraged. “It’s getting cold.”

Avery looked up and relented when he saw the inviting bowl of food. “All right, but I’m going to make it quick. I may be getting somewhere. Maybe.”

“Oh yeah?” Jorrin asked.

Nodding between mouthfuls, Avery shoveled food into his mouth.

Jorrin quirked a half-smile.

Was he even pausing to chew?

The younger man would choke at his current pace.

“Slow down and taste your food,” Cera admonished. Had she read his mind? “You’re going to choke to death, then where will we be?” She quirked an auburn eyebrow.

Jorrin looked from one to the other, waiting for Cera to smile.

She’s serious.

Avery made a face at her, but his next spoonful wasn’t at the same top speed.

“You said you almost have it?” Jorrin prodded.

The younger man turned the page in the dusty tome and pointed. He did not, however, put down his bowl or stop eating.

Jorrin was glad the stew had most of Avery’s attention. He didn’t want the redhead to forego his own needs.

His father would arrive in good time; he had confidence in Avery and Hadrian. Exactly what role he’d play at this point, Jorrin hadn’t a clue, but he’d assist in any way he could.

He just wished he could assure Cera everything would be all right, and they’d make it to Tarvis in time.

They’d stop Varthan, especially with his father’s help.

“There are a few possibilities here, and one here.” Avery pointed to both pages of the open book.

Jorrin sighed. He couldn’t see the spells from his seat, and Avery’s gestures were slight, as if he was standing over his shoulder.

“There’s nothing much to see, anyway, at this point.”

Jorrin’s expression must have betrayed his thought. He grimaced. “Sorry.”

“I need to find the right combination, and that’s the problem. The options are not so bad, individually, but I can’t seem to find one that has
all
I need the spell to be able to do,” Cera’s cousin continued, as if he’d not spoken.

“Combining spells can be done. We just have to get the tempo right,” Hadrian said, snapping his fingers and waving his wand. His empty bowl promptly disappeared, as did his fork.

Cera paused her meal, pretty gray eyes wide.

The old wizard shrugged. “What? It’s the easiest way to do the dishes.”

Jorrin laughed.

Avery didn’t even look up. The spell book had sucked him back in again.

Had he even seen Hadrian’s
cleaning?

“But where does it go?” Cera leaned forward in her chair.

“In the cupboard, of course, where dishes belong.” The elf inclined his head, blue eyes twinkling.

Brow knitted, she cocked her head to one side. “But . . . is it . . . clean?”

Jorrin chuckled again, and she glanced at him absently. He didn’t need his empathic magic to feel her disbelief and wonder. Her facial expressions were so vivid and readable.

“Of course. I wouldn’t be much of a maid, if it weren’t, now would I?” Hadrian asked, straight-faced.

“And the fork?”

“Clean also, in its proper place, the drawer.”

Cera looked at her empty bowl, then at the wizard. “Gonna do mine?”

“I shall. I wouldn’t want to leave any dirty bowls out. Draws bugs,” the wizard said.

She blinked at Hadrian’s joke and Jorrin bit back a laugh. “This is commonplace to you?”

“For most elfin households, yes. It’s all right, Cera, really.”

“Can we get back to the issues at hand?” Avery snapped.

Jorrin glanced at her cousin. With his attention on the book, it was a surprise he’d followed the conversation.

Hadrian cleared his throat. “Aye, certainly, but as I said before, combining spells shouldn’t be a problem. Saves the energy needed to write your own and make it work. Show me what you’re referring to.” He stood beside Avery at the table, studying the book.

Standing, the wizard was as tall as Cera’s cousin sitting.

“Hmmm . . . that could work.” His lips moved slightly as he read. Hadrian turned to an earlier page. “This one’s better.” He tapped the tome.

“But how . . . ?” Avery asked, face reddening.

The wizard laid a slender hand on Avery’s arm. “I’ll show you.”

Jorrin’s admiration of him shot up a degree. With that much kindness, there was no doubt Hadrian was a great teacher.

“Cera,” he said after several more moments of watching the wizard and the younger man. “We’re going to be in the way here.”

“Where should we go?” She looked around the small room pointedly.

“Well, I could show you what we talked about before, how to see through Trikser’s eyes.”

“Really? Now?”

“Yes, but let’s go outside. There’s more room, and we won’t be in the way.”

Privacy, too.

He’d be alone with her.

Cera nodded and glanced at the white wolf. He was lying in front of the hearth again, licking the bowl clean from his own portion of venison. He had earned it, because he’d flushed the doe from the woods to allow his mistress a clean shot. She’d told him that Trikser was used to hunting that way with her, and he obviously loved his reward.

Watching her with the bow was intriguing. She was skilled and graceful, even on horseback. Never missed a shot, either. It’d been hard to remember she was highborn.

“Trikser.” Her smile was brilliant when the wolf looked at her, tail wagging. Jorrin’s heart quickened. “Want to go outside?”

Her bondmate rose to all fours and headed for the door before either of them. When they didn’t come immediately, he glanced over his shoulder.

“See? He understands me.” Cera threw him a smug look and crossed her arms over her breasts.

Jorrin chuckled and shrugged.

They slipped out the door, leaving Hadrian and Avery deep in discussion. Neither seemed to notice that they’d left.

“All right, then, elf-boy. Show me what you got.”

He laughed and had to restrain himself from kissing the look off her face.

Chapter Seven

“Cera, concentrate,” Jorrin admonished, biting back a heavy sigh.

“Sorry.” She cut off a giggle.

Trikser hadn’t moved from the spot where he lay near them. He thumped his tail when he noticed Jorrin looking at him.

He flashed a half-smile.

Perhaps Cera’s bond liked him now, or was that just a dose of wishful thinking? “What happened anyway?”

“My nose tickled.” She wrinkled the object of discussion.

“When?”

“A moment ago. Why?”

“Because there was a fly on
Trikser’s
nose.” He paused. “I think you did it.”

“I did?” Her pretty gray eyes widened and her face lit up. Jorrin’s stomach fluttered. “Did you hear that, Trik?”

The wolf caught the excitement in her tone and rose, coming forward to lick her face.

Jorrin’s breath caught when their eyes met. He’d not seen her so lighthearted since they set out to Tarvis, and it was a welcome change; especially with her earlier urging to continue the journey.

Jorrin laughed. “Calm down.”

“But it’s a start,” she protested

“Precisely, a
start.”
He tried hard to keep a straight face. She was adorable, and he ached to yank her into his arms and kiss her again. “Let’s try again.”

Cera sighed, resting a hand on each knee and sitting straighter.

“Now, like I told you, open your mind to Trikser’s. Explain what you’re attempting and tell him to relax.”

Her nose wiggled again, and Jorrin could almost see the question forming in her mind. He probably would’ve been able to pick it up if she hadn’t built walls to keep him out. Now that she knew he was an empath her walls were even stronger.

“What is it?”

“If he has to relax, how can this work in a tense situation?”

“When you become more familiar with joining your mind with . . . or into his, neither of you will need to relax to do it. Concentrating will also become a lot easier. You’ll just be able to slip in, almost without a thought. He won’t fight you even now since you’re bonded, but he’ll become more accustomed to having you there, sharing his mind space with you.”

“Well, I’m ready to try again, then.”

“Go ahead.”

Cera let her eyes slip closed. She explained to her wolf what she was trying to do.

He didn’t send any thoughts in return, but she felt him loosen and become more open to her. Trikser understood completely.

Minutes passed—or was it hours?

She slipped further into concentration, reaching for the magic that bonded them. Cera tried to see it as a rope, thick and woven tightly, something Jorrin had suggested. She pictured wrapping it around her waist, around her wolf’s torso, and saw herself stepping
into
him.

Cera felt almost divided then, as if she was sitting beside herself.

Unsettling, but she excluded it as a distraction.

Delving further into his mind, she kept her thoughts in the
now.

There was no past . . . there was no ability to think of what was to come.

To Trikser, there was only Cera.

She truly understood then how he was bonded to her. He would always look to her, but at the same time, she was something he would
always
protect. Loyal to the end, he would never question or betray her. He wasn’t capable of it.

They
belonged
to each other.

Cera loved him, as her bond and as one who would always be her friend.

Always
be at her side.

This experience was already making her appreciate Trikser more than she ever could have before.

She wanted to go farther; she wanted to learn more from him.

Cera saw Jorrin looking calmly at her and then . . . she saw herself, sitting legs crossed, hands on her knees, and . . . eyes
closed?

The sight was different somehow. The coloring of everything was off, but her vision had never been so clear, so sharp.