Spellbinder
Page 66
Locating Warrick and Harrow was easy since they made no effort to be stealthy. Carefully, he followed as they walked along the path that led to an area of high ground. The place they were headed to was an excellent lookout point, as it offered the most complete view of the castle, the town around it, and the harbor where the fishing and sailing boats were docked.
Once there, the men paused. Weighing the relative risk of overhearing something he didn’t want to hear versus the need to know what they were up to, Morgan eased closer until he could catch snatches of their conversation on the wind. He fingered pieces of the beeswax, molding them into earplugs even as he listened.
“I agree with you,” Harrow said. “The scent was fresh, especially in the stables…”
Realization struck.
The stables, where Morgan had lain unconscious and bleeding for quite some time. He had forgotten to do anything to disguise or get rid of his scent after he had recovered enough to get back to the cottage. Angry at his own oversight, he swore under his breath.
Warrick replied, “So if he came back from Earth like we think he did… any number of places where he could be staying… Also I want to know why the bastard sneaked back into Avalon after sneaking out in the first place….”
“Seems pretty clear…” Harrow said. Doesn’t want to be found?”
“Yeah, looks like… go back and tell the others…”
As Morgan took in the gist of their conversation, he faced facts grimly.
The game had changed.
Now that Warrick and Harrow had grown suspicious he might be in Avalon, plugging his ears with beeswax wouldn’t do much to protect him. If just one of them thought to try to reach out to him telepathically to made contact—and if they told him Isabeau wanted him to return whether he was injured or not—he would be forced to obey.
Tensing, he ran through his capacious repertoire of spells to see what might be useful in blocking telepathy. The obvious one would be a null spell. For it to last for any length of time, he would have to cast it into yet another item and wear it. It would protect him from telepathy, but it would hamper his abilities severely too.
As he stalked the other two Hounds, Morgan’s mind switched over to cold, ruthless logic. It sounded like Warrick and Harrow hadn’t told anybody else yet. Did he have it in him to kill them, even though they presented no immediate physical danger?
But the danger they did represent was very real. If they took their suspicions back to the other Hounds, and to the Queen, the search for him in the immediate area would intensify.
It hadn’t happened yet, but now that they were suspicious he could be within range somewhere, sometime very soon, someone would get the bright idea to start calling for him telepathically.
If he got trapped again, he would be sent away from Avalon to continue his attack against the Dark Court.
Sent away from Sidonie.
And maybe she would solidify her position at court that very evening, but if for some reason Isabeau stayed adamantly turned against her, Sidonie could continue to be in danger, and Morgan would not be able to do anything to help.
He watched as, in the distance, the two men walked farther up the path and paused at the highest point to look out across the land. Now they were too far away for him to overhear their conversation. Harrow pointed west, and Warrick shook his head.
All it would take was one massive push of air. With a quick spell, he could throw a blow like a battering ram and both men would go flying over the cliff. They might not die from the fall, but they would be severely injured enough he could reach them to finish the job before they recovered.
Warrick was a brute, and Morgan would feel nothing but relief at his death, but Harrow was a decent enough man.
At war with himself, he tensed.
There was a small rustle in the underbrush beside him. Robin remarked in a quiet voice, “It’s a fine day for a little murder, don’t you think?”
Morgan’s heart kicked. Robin always did have a knack for seeing through his best concealment spells. Whirling, he grabbed the puck by the throat and slammed him to the ground. Robin did nothing to try to stop him.
Morgan hissed, “Are you fucking crazy? I should have killed you before, when I had the chance!”
Robin met his gaze. For the first time in a very long time, Morgan saw a sober kind of sanity in the puck’s eyes.
“It would be most unfortunate if you chose to carry through on that threat, sorcerer, since I’ve come to offer help,” Robin told him. “For the first time in history, a member of the Dark Court is choosing to offer his services to one of the Light.”
“What nonsense are you spouting now?” Morgan snapped, his fingers tightening.
Robin’s face darkened from the increased pressure, but he still showed no signs of struggle. He whispered, “I had a most illuminating conversation with Sidonie.”
Instantly, Morgan relaxed his hold. A quick glance up at the lookout point told him the other two men had disappeared from sight. He had not only lost his chance to kill them, but he had lost track of where they were.
“Come on.” Hauling Robin upright, he dragged the puck back to the concealment of his cottage. Once there, he shoved the puck inside and followed, slamming the door behind him. As Robin turned to face him, he snarled, “Start explaining.”
“I was spying on her,” Robin said simply as he adjusted his clothes. “I have this compulsion to witness the damage I’ve wrought. Somehow she sensed me watching. Instead of denying my presence and remaining silent, I chose to reveal myself. She was… violently furious, as you may imagine.”
“If you did anything more to hurt her…,” he growled, feeling his face change.
Robin’s eyes widened, and he threw up his hands. “Peace, sorcerer! Your lady is fine! I took every one of her blows, because I deserved them, and when she calmed down enough to talk, she told me of the geas you’re under.”
Morgan hesitated, breathing hard, and his features eased back into their normal shape. Warily, he asked, “So what now, Robin?”
“Sidonie was right,” Robin breathed, staring at him. “Now I know the geas exists, I can see it lying over you, like fate’s shadow. Before, I always thought it was the shade of your dark arts. Now my reasons for her kidnapping no longer exist, but she made it clear she doesn’t want my help to go home. She said she won’t leave Avalon without you.”
Once there, the men paused. Weighing the relative risk of overhearing something he didn’t want to hear versus the need to know what they were up to, Morgan eased closer until he could catch snatches of their conversation on the wind. He fingered pieces of the beeswax, molding them into earplugs even as he listened.
“I agree with you,” Harrow said. “The scent was fresh, especially in the stables…”
Realization struck.
The stables, where Morgan had lain unconscious and bleeding for quite some time. He had forgotten to do anything to disguise or get rid of his scent after he had recovered enough to get back to the cottage. Angry at his own oversight, he swore under his breath.
Warrick replied, “So if he came back from Earth like we think he did… any number of places where he could be staying… Also I want to know why the bastard sneaked back into Avalon after sneaking out in the first place….”
“Seems pretty clear…” Harrow said. Doesn’t want to be found?”
“Yeah, looks like… go back and tell the others…”
As Morgan took in the gist of their conversation, he faced facts grimly.
The game had changed.
Now that Warrick and Harrow had grown suspicious he might be in Avalon, plugging his ears with beeswax wouldn’t do much to protect him. If just one of them thought to try to reach out to him telepathically to made contact—and if they told him Isabeau wanted him to return whether he was injured or not—he would be forced to obey.
Tensing, he ran through his capacious repertoire of spells to see what might be useful in blocking telepathy. The obvious one would be a null spell. For it to last for any length of time, he would have to cast it into yet another item and wear it. It would protect him from telepathy, but it would hamper his abilities severely too.
As he stalked the other two Hounds, Morgan’s mind switched over to cold, ruthless logic. It sounded like Warrick and Harrow hadn’t told anybody else yet. Did he have it in him to kill them, even though they presented no immediate physical danger?
But the danger they did represent was very real. If they took their suspicions back to the other Hounds, and to the Queen, the search for him in the immediate area would intensify.
It hadn’t happened yet, but now that they were suspicious he could be within range somewhere, sometime very soon, someone would get the bright idea to start calling for him telepathically.
If he got trapped again, he would be sent away from Avalon to continue his attack against the Dark Court.
Sent away from Sidonie.
And maybe she would solidify her position at court that very evening, but if for some reason Isabeau stayed adamantly turned against her, Sidonie could continue to be in danger, and Morgan would not be able to do anything to help.
He watched as, in the distance, the two men walked farther up the path and paused at the highest point to look out across the land. Now they were too far away for him to overhear their conversation. Harrow pointed west, and Warrick shook his head.
All it would take was one massive push of air. With a quick spell, he could throw a blow like a battering ram and both men would go flying over the cliff. They might not die from the fall, but they would be severely injured enough he could reach them to finish the job before they recovered.
Warrick was a brute, and Morgan would feel nothing but relief at his death, but Harrow was a decent enough man.
At war with himself, he tensed.
There was a small rustle in the underbrush beside him. Robin remarked in a quiet voice, “It’s a fine day for a little murder, don’t you think?”
Morgan’s heart kicked. Robin always did have a knack for seeing through his best concealment spells. Whirling, he grabbed the puck by the throat and slammed him to the ground. Robin did nothing to try to stop him.
Morgan hissed, “Are you fucking crazy? I should have killed you before, when I had the chance!”
Robin met his gaze. For the first time in a very long time, Morgan saw a sober kind of sanity in the puck’s eyes.
“It would be most unfortunate if you chose to carry through on that threat, sorcerer, since I’ve come to offer help,” Robin told him. “For the first time in history, a member of the Dark Court is choosing to offer his services to one of the Light.”
“What nonsense are you spouting now?” Morgan snapped, his fingers tightening.
Robin’s face darkened from the increased pressure, but he still showed no signs of struggle. He whispered, “I had a most illuminating conversation with Sidonie.”
Instantly, Morgan relaxed his hold. A quick glance up at the lookout point told him the other two men had disappeared from sight. He had not only lost his chance to kill them, but he had lost track of where they were.
“Come on.” Hauling Robin upright, he dragged the puck back to the concealment of his cottage. Once there, he shoved the puck inside and followed, slamming the door behind him. As Robin turned to face him, he snarled, “Start explaining.”
“I was spying on her,” Robin said simply as he adjusted his clothes. “I have this compulsion to witness the damage I’ve wrought. Somehow she sensed me watching. Instead of denying my presence and remaining silent, I chose to reveal myself. She was… violently furious, as you may imagine.”
“If you did anything more to hurt her…,” he growled, feeling his face change.
Robin’s eyes widened, and he threw up his hands. “Peace, sorcerer! Your lady is fine! I took every one of her blows, because I deserved them, and when she calmed down enough to talk, she told me of the geas you’re under.”
Morgan hesitated, breathing hard, and his features eased back into their normal shape. Warily, he asked, “So what now, Robin?”
“Sidonie was right,” Robin breathed, staring at him. “Now I know the geas exists, I can see it lying over you, like fate’s shadow. Before, I always thought it was the shade of your dark arts. Now my reasons for her kidnapping no longer exist, but she made it clear she doesn’t want my help to go home. She said she won’t leave Avalon without you.”
