There was a certain delicacy involved in delivering a love charm, if one did not wish the victim to be aware of its existence. It was not as easy as it sounded in fables and village lore. One did not merely buy the charm, carry it within close proximity of the girl one wished to tumble and walaa -- instant lust. It was one thing to make the charm and recite the incantation and quite another to secret it about the person of the charmee and have them not notice it for long enough for the spell to take effect. Schneider had never in his long and prestigious career as a wizard, had the occasion to personally deal with a love charm. He had certainly never needed one for himself, and it had never crossed his mind that there was any other person who deserved adoration other than himself that might need one. He had always tended towards extreme egotism, though he might be loath to admit that it was anything but deserved.
He had gone back to the witch with a lock of greenish hair -- the old woman had lifted her scraggly brows curiously at that, but made no comment -- and sat in the back of her tent impatiently while she chanted and sweated over a burning tray of incense, reciting the spell. Herb based magic was so tedious, reserved for those that hadn't the actual power to perform a simple summoning and have some demon, spirit or elemental do one's will.
He took the finished pouch back to Yoko, along with lunch and discussed with her the possible ways he might secret the thing on Thrax without the man knowing it.
"Well, did he invite you back to his house?" she asked, munching on a crust of hard bread. There was a bottle of ale between them that she took delicate sips at, screwing her face up in distaste after each taste.
"No." He admitted. "I believe I took too much of his gold the last time. He probably would, if I pushed it."
"He seems to like you."
"Why wouldn't he?"
She smiled, as though his honest question amused her. "It probably wouldn't work in his home anyway. In the comfort of one's own house, an inconsistency is more likely to be noticed."
"He plays Pirates and Kings every evening at the tavern. That place is always crowded. Perhaps it might be slipped into a pocket and he would never be the wiser in the press."
"That sounds good. You said it needed a couple of hours to really take effect. Will he stay that long?"
"It can probably be arranged."
"Can you get it off him once it has. So he doesn't find it later and suspect?"
"I suppose I'll have to."
She tidied up the remains of lunch. "What will you do in the meanwhile."
A sly smile crossed his lips. "I believe I could think of something."
"But, my Lord. It could be weeks before we can follow through the mountains. The passes might be snowed in. The weather could turn bad. I highly recommend against this."
Kiro was upset. Kiro stood in the trampled snow around the trading post and gestured at the gray morning sky with his one good arm. Kall-Su intended to send him, the other injured man and two others back to Sta-Veron to marshal troops. Kiro would have had to go, regardless of his injury, being the captain of Kall's guard the only man he would trust to lead a legion south on his heels. The other fifteen men of the hunting party would accompany him.
"I am decided." Kall said quietly. "And you are wasting time, captain."
Kiro was too much an officer to whine. He merely nodded, hearing the finality of his lord's words and spoke sharply to the men in his command who were to accompany Kall south. Gave them orders of conduct, stern directions to keep their lord from harm, as if he were not capable of it himself. Then with a frown that neatly told how disconsolate he was with the path events were following, mounted and signaled his small party into motion.
Kall watched him go. His own men finishing the final packing of supplies onto the backs of their horses. By the time Kiro was out of sight within the shadow of snow crusted pines, he was mounting leading his men down slope. He kept them at a steady pace, the trails on this side of the mountain winding and sloping at a not too treacherous angle. The composure he had experienced when Arshes Nei had first told him of Schneider's resurrection having turned to an urgent expectancy over night. He had an itch of a sudden to see Schneider in the flesh. To prove that it was real, because he could not quite accept it from the ghostly tidings brought by Arshes.
The day passed, cold and clear and the heavy footed horses blew gouts of steam from their nostrils, heated by the exercise, keeping to a pace that was unnaturally vigorous, by benefit of Kall's impatience. He lent them strength of his own, a casual gifting that his men did not comment on, but were sure to have noticed, since their mounts never exhibited a weariness of step. It did wear of course, by the end of the day. On him more so than the animals. A simple, prolonged lending of strength was more draining than a quick, large exhalation of magical prowess. They had covered, by rote of many twists and turns, perhaps no more than twenty miles of terrain and that only be great effort. There were easier trails through the relatively mild Great Northern Range, but this one had been the closest at hand. Kiro and the forces he would gather would travel further west and take a less harsh route. Even then, they would be many weeks behind, an army traveling generally at a slower pace than a small group of men. Knowing this, Kiro would go damned light on the supply train, hoping for faster travel.
When they broke for camp, after dusk, he settled in his cloak while his men picketed the horses and prepared a meal. He closed his eyes, regathering energy he had spent all the long day. Someone offered him a cup of hot tea and he took it wordlessly.
He flung out his senses, hunting for that aura that he knew so well. He had always been aware, at some degree or another, of Schneider. The utter force of his personality made a mark. The extreme degrees of his magic were unique and left a scent. He had never been circumspect in his wizardry. One tended to know he was about. But there was nothing of him in the eather tonight. No slight trace of the presence that was Schneider. A mind that familiar he should have been able to locate and there was emptiness. Arshes had mentioned a binding. That was perhaps the reason. What power could create a binding ward strong enough to suppress Schneider? He knew of places where magic was null. Small inconsistencies of place and dimension which certain holy sects had discovered and warded into sanctuaries against unholy intrusion. Elementals could be bound, as any creature without a true soul could be, with an effort of will, if one was more powerful than the elemental itself. One could bind a minor wizard with relative ease, though the binding spells themselves were complicated, heliciously monotonous things to perform, though why one would bother when it was just as easy to place a geas of loyalty or if one were particularly callous an Accursed spell. One just did not bind the magic of a powerful wizard. It was not done, not with any spell that he had ever heard of. The notion that the Prophet had at his call such wardings made Kall uneasy.
Snow began to filter lightly down through the pine canopy. A few delicate flakes warning that a front moved somewhere. He broadened his awareness, hunting for the source of the storm and found a great boiling disturbance to the north east. Bad weather coming. The passes through which his army needed to pass would be snowed in. That would be a great inconvenience. He rose and waved a hand at his men that he needed no escort, and walked away from camp and into the grayness a snowbound landscape made of night. He preferred to avoid working magics before his men. They were well used to it, but still he did not like the wariness that came even into the eyes of his most trusted knights when arcane things were afoot.
He stood in the snow and whispered words of summoning. One need not shout to gain the attention of an elemental. One need merely be prepared for a battle of wills. A wind elemental answered the summons, one of the gusty northern ones with cores as cold as the tundra and spirits as strong as the winter was long. He knew its name. Eheezarha. That knowledge was power and it swirled about him in a tantrum that he had pulled it to him and sought to bind it to his will. It raged and howled and the snow flew up in a maelstrom, coating the rough bark of the trees. None of it touched Kall-Su. He stood with his cloak billowing about him and witnessed the tantrum without remark, exerting control and power over the Thing while it thrashed and exhausted its strength.
What do you want, halfling? It hissed, finally subsided and hovering insubstantial before him. It trailed streamers of conical wind behind its main body.
"Careful." Kall rebuked its discourtesy. "Or I shall send you to a void where there is no air for you to play with."
It shimmered, humming. What is your wish, master? A much humbler hissing.
"A game. Keep the storms from the mountains -- twenty miles west, twenty miles east -- clear and free of snow for the next month. Blow the storms elsewhere."
Where, master?
"South." Kall said. No use to dump all the weather on Sta-Veron and one thought that if armies were traveling north from Meta-Rikan, a bit of bad weather would slow their pace.
Is that all?
He waved a hand. "That's all. Go."
It dispersed with hardly a gust. Satisfied that Kiro would find little to block his passage when he returned with the army, Kall returned to camp.
Schneider watched Thrax from beneath his lashes, sitting at a place of honor around the gaming table, but not invited to play. At least not here under the gazes of the unsophisticated louts who worked for the lumber baron. Thrax's ego could only take so many defeats in the public eye. But he was more than willing to share his dreadful wine and his overfriendly mistress, who's hands kept wondering under the table.
The spell pouch was in Thrax's pocket, an easy enough task to accomplish in the press of bodies within the tavern. It had been there all night, throughout twelve games of Pirate's and King's and countless bottles of wine and rounds of hard liquor. There was not a sober soul in the tavern, Thrax chief among the inebriated. Schneider's vision was starting to tunnel. It was considerably easier to hold one's liquor when one had the arcane ability to banish intoxication at whim. That simple skill -- or the lack of it at the moment -- had slipped his mind when he'd sat out at the beginning of the night to wait for the effects of the love charm to start. Thrax's concentration hardly wavered from the game and lording his skills over his loggers. He was single minded and stubborn and entirely frustrating, which made Schneider consume all the more wine in the boredom of waiting.
The midnight hour was long past before the congregation began to break up, staggering home to their tents to get some sleep before they had to rise in the morning and trek back into the forest. Thrax rose, bellowing out what a fine night it had been. He finished off the last dregs of wine in his cup and banged it down on the table top. His body guard began gathering the playing pieces together and handed them and the board to the barkeep, who put them under the bar.
Schneider rose and staggered a step sideways, prepared for cooperation from the room at large and not getting it. Thrax laughed, grabbing a his shirt to steady him.
"Maybe I should play you now, Darshe and get all my gold back."
Schneider refrained from answering, busy trying to make the floor settle under his feet. The reflex urge to magic the intoxication away was so strong the wards at his wrists tingled warningly.
"Come on, you can sleep it off at my house tonight." Thrax offered good naturedly, putting one arm about Schneider's shoulders and the other about his mistress. They made it to the street, with Thrax's body guard trailing behind, the lot of them none to steady on their feet and Schneider cursing the old witch for making a dud charm.
"Go on ahead. See her home." Thrax told his bodyguard and put his mistress into the man's care. "I want to talk with Darshe."
When they were a good ways up the street, Thrax sighed and belched, then laughed at himself. Schneider watched him warily.
"You know, I like you, Darshe. I really like you." Thrax squeezed his shoulder and Schneider had a moment's fear that the old witch had miserably screwed up the charm.
"And I couldn't talk with her around -- by the gods, I've had these urges all night. I can't get them out of my head."
Cautiously, Schneider took a step backwards. Thrax threw out his hands in frustration. "I just --- these feelings -- in my head I hear a voice. I see a face. She's so lovely I can't think of anything but her. I know her and yet I've never met her."
Ah, that was better. "Really? A woman?"
"A woman. The woman. My woman. She's somewhere. I know she is, but I don't know where. It's like an itch, knowing she's out there somewhere and -- and I know she's waiting for me. I need your help to find her."
"Well," Schneider said slowly, careful with his words. "Do you know what she looks like?"
"Like night. Like the brightest sun. Like flowers. Like the most beautiful thing you've ever laid eyes upon." Thrax was looking up into the night sky with rapture on his face. He swayed slightly, whether from inebriation or the effects of the charm, one was uncertain. Regardless the spell seemed to have taken rather sudden and devastating effect.
Schneider held up a finger to comment on Thrax's energetic description and lost his train of thought. He took a breath, in efforts to clear his head. "I believe -- that I've seen a lady that fits that description in the forest."
Thrax stared at him in drunken hope. "You haven't."
"Well, actually, yes."
Thrax grasped his arms with enough gusto to force him back a step. "Where? Who is she?"
"Her name is Glyncara. I might show you."
"Glyncara." Thrax breathed the name like sigh. For a moment his eyes grew dreamy and far away. "Show me. Show me where she is."
One had to be incredibly grateful to strong spirits imbibed in mass. No sober man, even one altered by a love spell would so blindly follow a stranger into the forest to meet a heretofore unknown woman. Whether one had a hard on for said woman or not.
Thrax only fell down once on the pitted trail that lead into the great wood. Schneider managed to avoid that indignity only by the grace of having Thrax to catch hold of when his balance left him. Thrax kept asking how far. Schneider wasn't quite certain himself. He stopped in the darkness, well into the wood, and Thrax stopped with him, peering into the night.
"Where is she?" he whispered.
"Glyncara." Schneider called out. "Come out. Come out. You've company."
"There's no one here." Thrax complained, sounding spooked, alone in the forest that he was destroying.
Schneider laughed and flung out his arms. There was fog on the ground around them. Thrax didn't notice. Thrax wasn't so subtle in his perceptions.
She came up out of the ground like a banshee, a sudden formation of mist and fog and wind that rustled the limbs on trees and sent debris up into the air. Thrax cried out in fright and threw up his arms to shield his face from flying leaves and dirt. Glyncara stood before them, clothed in nothing but hair, a greenish glow infusing the air about her. Her eyes were alight with power and anger.
Is this the man who destroys my forest?
"This would be him." Schneider said and leaned against a tree, picking leaves out of his hair.
Thrax stared at her, eyes globes of awe. His lips trembled, sweat stood out on his face. "It's you." He whispered. "You're so beautiful."
You foul human refuse. Glyncara spat. She actually spat on the ground at Thrax's feet. Thrax stared at the spot her spittle had landed with reverence.
"My love. My beautiful Glyncara. Don't speak so. You wound me to the heart."
I shall tear out your heart. You have destroyed in a few years time what has taken a millennia to grow. And you care not. You do it on a whim.
"No. No. I do it build an empire. An empire I shall devote to making you happy. Tell me what I need to do. What will make you love me?"
Love you? She cried, then turned her forest colored eyes to Schneider in stupdification.
"Give him a task to win your love." He suggested, shrugging.
"Yes. Anything." Thrax agreed, a dog willing to please. It was a very good charm. The hedge witch deserved a bonus.
Bring back my forest. Glyncara cried. Renew the life you stole.
"But -- how?" Thrax dropped to his knees, almost crying. He looked from Glyncara to Schneider helplessly. "I would do anything. Tell me how?"
Glyncara fumed, her skin changing colors like a chameleon in her anger. Brown to green to yellow.
Stop cutting down my trees.
"Yes. Yes. Of course, my love." Thrax nodded enthusiastically.
"Plant a tree." Schneider suggested and laughed. The whole thing seemed so terribly funny, he was having a hard time controlling his mirth.
"A forest of trees." Thrax agreed. Glyncara lifted a brow in thought.
Yes. A forest of trees. Set your murderers to planting saplings on the land you devastated. That is as good a start as any.
Thrax smiled. Schneider had a thought and chuckled. "Of course, when he does all this, it will only be fair to consummate your love."
Thrax absolutely beamed and nodded. Glyncara, in control of her composure again ignored Schneider completely. Go then, if you wish my good will and prepare the seeding. She flung out an arm imperiously and Thrax started. He blinked, looking miserable at the thought of leaving her. Miserable at the notion of disobeying his true love. Then he climbed awkwardly to his feet and stumbled past Schneider, fleeing into the wood towards Thraxtown.
Schneider laughed so hard tears ran down his cheeks. He slid down the tree and sprawled in the leaves, holding his sides. Glyncara glared at him a moment then started to fade.
"Don't you even think about it, wood witch." He snapped, humor evaporated. "You owe me."
Do I? It remains to be seen whether the devastation ceases.
"It will. He's your lap dog, now. Direct him as you will." He did not see fit to mention that the spell would probably only last a few short weeks.
"I lived up to my part of the bargain. You live up to yours. Take these damn things off." He lifted his wrists savagely. She stood there, half transparent, her legs faded into mist.
I cannot.
"What?" It came out a low, viscous hiss.
I do not have the power. Perhaps not even when my forest was whole.
"You lying bitch. You tricked me."
I did not. You mislead yourself into thinking that I did. I never said as much.
He started cursing. He struggled up, willing to attack her with nothing but hands since there were no other options open to him.
"She didn't. Say that she would." Yoko's voice quietly said.
He whirled, caught at the tree to his right to steady himself, and saw her emerge from the shadows, wrapped in her cloak and his, limping only slightly.
"How--?"
I summoned her here. Between the two of you, she has more the head for reason.
Schneider glared. Yoko looked down, arms wrapped about herself.
"Damn you." He felt sick. He was so angry the whole of his body shook. His vision blurred and he blinked wetness away, furious. "I hope your forest burns."
"Rushie. She never promised. She only said perhaps."
"To hell with you too. You would take her side."
Yoko blinked at him, shocked, hurt. He didn't care. At the moment his own hurt was worse. He needed his power back. He had to have it back. He could not endure this helplessness.
Go to Saldorn. In the mountains to the west.
"What's in Saldorn?" Yoko asked when he refused to.
Mother.
"Who's mother?"
Everyone's. Glyncara smiled serenely. Mother will have the power to grant your request. Mother can grant all requests. Here. Take this and the way will be clear. Present this and Mother will honor your wish.
Something glowed in the air before Schneider. An intense, blue green light that hovered at his chest. He put a hand out under it, and it dropped into his palm. It was not hot or cold, it merely was. The light faded and all that was left was a simple acorn. He stared at it dubiously. Yoko shifted closer to see what he had been given.
"An acorn?" Yoko murmured.
Schneider lifted a brow caustically. "You have got to be kidding? First you lie to me, then you suggest I go on some fools errand after some great being I've never heard of and you give me an acorn to trade for a wish?" He let it drop to the ground disdainfully.
I never lied. I have given you the way to freedom. It is not my concern that you are so jaded as to not accept it.
"Jaded? You crazy bitch. Play your games, then. And may the gods help you when I do get my power back."
"Rushie." Yoko knelt to pick up the acorn. She held it against her breast.
"Shut up, Yoko." He whirled, stalking away.
"Please." She cried. "You're not being reasonable." She turned desperate eyes back to Glyncara, who was fading into mist. "He didn't mean it. He didn't."
He did. But he may change his mind. It is his way, is it not? Your curse is gone. Farewell. And then she was gone.
"Where are you going?" Yoko paced him, despite the dull discomfort in her ankle. The healing spell had cured all but the residue ache. The gash in her leg was almost gone. Mentally, she still favored the leg and probably would for several days to come. He wasn't talking to her. He was in the midst of a tantrum, she realized, having not gotten his way and not used to it. He was also weaving slightly in his step. Which was unusual and worried her.
"What's wrong with you?" she demanded. He sniffed and pulled at the strip of cloth at the end of his braid. The discarded tie dropped to the ground as he began pulling his hair out of the braid.
"Ooohh." She hissed, exasperated. "You are so impossible. Its like you never led anyone astray or used someone to your own ends. Noooo. Not you. You were always so angelic and honest in your dealings."
He turned on her, eyes flashing dangerously, a finger stabbing at her face. "When have I lied to you? When have I not said what I meant? What need did I ever have to lie, when the truth was always so much more fun?"
"Oh, as in, why bother with a lie when you can piss more people off with the simple truth? Is that what you mean?" She smacked his finger away and matched his glare.
"Exactly." He snarled back. "But it doesn't answer the question."
"To hell with the question, you idiot. She's told us where we can find someone who can remove the wards. Isn't that enough?"
"And you believe her? After she made me jump through hoops leading me to think she could remove them?"
"YES. I do."
"Naive, foolish girl."
"I believe in a lot of things the rest of the world thinks are terrible. You tell me how naive I really am?"
He opened his mouth, then snapped it shut and started walking again. He careened off a tree and cursed.
"Are you drunk?" She accused.
He refused to answer.
"Fine. Be that way. Stubborn man. I don't care what you do." She sniffed, crossing her arms, veering off from the trail in the direction of the little brook that had become her temporary home. She plopped down next to her stolen sack of goods and listened to the sounds of the forest, brooding. Angry at him being angry at her. As if he had any right, when she was just trying to make him see reason. Irritating, nasty tempered wizard.
She heard him crashing through the underbrush, ungainly and noisy in his present state and presently he stumbled into the little glade. She glared up at him. He ignored her. He slid down a tree to sit in the soft moss, his arms resting on his knees, his hair obscuring his face. The silence began to wear. She hated it.
"She took the curse off me." She finally said to break it. "She kept her word on that."
He said nothing. She sniffed. His head was bent. All she could see was a fall of hair.
"Rushie?"
Nothing. She rose to her knees and crept over to him. Touched his shoulder and he started so violently that she shied back, afraid that he might hit her out of reflex. He blinked at her, blurry, blue eyes veined with red.
"I'm sorry." She said.
"Forget it." He murmured, reached out and caught her, pulling her in towards him. He smelled of cheap wine. She placed her hands against him, trying to push away, not ready to forgive him yet, but he wrapped his other arm about her and without twisting and turning violently, she was trapped. However he did not seem to have more in mind than holding her, for he relaxed back against the tree, shutting his eyes and was very soon asleep. Wonderful. An irritating, nasty tempered, drunk wizard. She only preyed he might be more open to reason in the morning when he was clearer of head.