Hearts in Cups (48 page)

"Well...I don't
know, but..." She stopped again to think. Her face expressed the reaching
of a decision, and when she spoke again there was excitement in her voice.
"You know that all of the House Gifts are keyed to elements," she
began. "Creon is keyed to air or wind. What if I could bring a wind to
blow the spears back at Brescom's army?" Her small, fine-boned face
regarded him earnestly.

"You think that
you could do this?" His face sparked and reflected her excitement.

"I can try,"
she shrugged her shoulders philosophically. Now that she had made the
commitment, she teetered between apprehension and confidence. She had spent
many hours since her talk with Ian in the study, considering the hastily made
assertion that she could make use of the House Gift of Creon. Eventually she
concluded that the House Gift lying dormant within her could be tapped into,
but she was still uncertain about how to call it forth or exactly what its
effects would be. She had never seen her own father use his powers, but she had
heard him speak of them to Owen when neither knew that she was near.

Taking her hand, Ian
guided her hastily through the main hall and out of the castle's keep. As they
passed through the castle gates and onto the great field, Angharad saw one of
the flaming missiles coming over the wall. To their right, one of the barns had
caught fire and as they crossed the field the cattle that had been housed there
bellowed and ran about the field while men fought to keep the blaze from
spreading. Little attention could be spared for the young man and woman dodging
missiles as they made their way to the main gate towers. Still moving hand in
hand, Ian led Angharad up the stone steps to where Griswold continued to wait,
pronouncing imprecations on Brescom's head.

The old warrior turned
and furrowed his brow in astonishment when he saw Angharad clutching at Ian's
arm for balance and panting from the exertion of climbing the many stairs. A
bit bewildered herself in this strange environment, his welcoming words set her
little more at ease. "Tis glad I am to see your ladyship, but I don't
quite understand the reason for your being here with the danger as great as it
is." He looked to Ian for an explanation.

Ian caught his breath
enough for speech. "Lady Angharad has the House Gift of Creon, or thinks
that she does," he favoured her with a slightly doubtful look.
"Anyway, I thought that since nothing else was being done, we could see if
she might work something to our advantage."

Angharad expected
almost any reaction to the one she received. "What luck! Come forward
then, your ladyship, and have a look." Griswold's look of concern dropped
and was replaced by one he might give to any soldier whose talents he
recognized and appreciated. It was disconcerting for her to be taken seriously
so quickly.

She came forward and
Griswold stepped aside so that she might see what it was they faced. Peering
gingerly over the stonework, she got her first glimpse of military men engaged
in acts of war. She found it very intimidating. Ignoring the coil of fear that
settled in her stomach, she carefully studied the machines and methods being
used to launch the deadly missiles before stepping back and confronting the two
men.

"Well?" they
asked simultaneously, matched expressions of expectancy on their faces.

She drew a deep breath.
"I think I know what has to be done. I will need a safe place to stand,
yet one where I can still see the machines."

With a curt nod,
Griswold led them up another two flights of stairs until they stood on the roof
of the guard tower. A parapet ringed them and made viewing them from the ground
difficult, but they had a bird's-eye view of the enemy below. Griswold handed
Ian an extra shield that he had pulled off the wall on the way up, and they
moved forward in order to protect her should a missile or arrow be loosed at
her.

Closing her eyes, to
center herself and block out visual distractions, Angharad sent her mind roving
to find that one harmony that she knew beyond all doubt was the key to the
House Gift. She almost felt that it drew her mind to it, so abruptly did it
take hold of her. It was like opening a door, or portal, on something so
incredible that it could not be comprehended. One minute she was Angharad
d'Aurilac standing on the gate tower of Castle Lir, and the next there was a
mind-reeling black void with the howl of a violent wind rushing through her
ears. For several panic driven moments all of Angharad's will was channeled
into trying to control this force that whirled about her, blotting out
everything else. Slowly she fought her way out of the maelstrom until she stood
in the light once more, and could see the real world around her.

Against the parapet,
Griswold and Ian crouched, their shields gone, desperately clinging to the
stones to keep from being blown off the roof. In her mind, Angharad willed the
wind to rise and aimed its power at the enemy's machines. A portion of her rose
up with the wind, making it difficult to concentrate. It was as if the fabric
of her own mind was being blown apart by the force of the gale; only an
exercise of will kept her whole. Labouriously, she extricated her mind from the
wind and, bade the wind to turn its power towards Lord Brescom's army and his
machines. Instantly the blast, now under nominal direction, tore at the
machines, knocking them over and scattering the men in its path as if they were
of no more substance than a drift of dry leaves. The fire they had used to
ignite their missiles, leaped up and was blown out of existence. Men clung to
trees and rocks as the wind picked up dirt and debris and pelted them with it.
The wind grew stronger and Angharad realized that she was rapidly loosing her
control. Gathering together every scrap of willpower and self-command that she
possessed, she bent her mind towards closing the portal, halting the flow of
power and sending the loosed storm high and far into the sky to vent its wrath
and fade.

The scene that now
confronted her of the enemy camp was one of disorder and confusion. The men
that could, walked dazedly about and stared at their machines, now broken into
useless bits of wood and iron. Those officers who recovered first ran shouting
orders to the men, sending them back to their camps. Carrying the dead and
wounded, the stunned soldiers complied. Lastly, the earl, who had managed not
to be thrown from his horse in the furor, kicked the animal, and with a
parting, baleful look, turned his back on the castle.

Angharad reeled with
exhilaration and fatigue. Her mind seemed to be moving at twice its normal
speed, but her body trembled and shook so that she needed to sit down or she
would fall. Dimly she was aware of Ian and Griswold kneeling on either side of
her, asking questions that she could not quite understand. Ian began to chafe
her wrists, while Griswold called unintelligibly down the stairs. In a moment a
soldier appeared carrying a wooden drinking cup which was brought to her lips.
After several gulps of the fiery liquid, Angharad hiccoughed and looked at them
with sensible eyes. She allowed herself to be helped to her feet and escorted
down the stairs to a room within the gate-house where she sat and regained her
composure.

"Ye did it! Ye did
it!" Griswold crowed exuberantly, as he stalked the room. "Brescom
was forced to slink away with his tail a'tween his legs. He'll be thinkin' two
or three times a'fore he launches another such attack."

The room had filled
with more men, officers and plain men-at-arms, come to question and
congratulate. In the midst of them, Ian stood with calm detachment. She caught
his eye and he smiled at her, but she felt that his lack of enthusiasm was more
than just a reserved nature. When the excitement wore down, Ian asked Angharad
if she would like to return to the castle keep with him.

Together in the long
shadows of late afternoon, as they strolled, side-by-side, back across the
green sward of the field, Ian gave voice to what was nagging at him. "How
much control did you have up there?"

Stung by what she
perceived as criticism, she replied shortly. "Enough to get the job
done!"

"That is not what
I asked," he said patiently. "You were more than efficient in dealing
with the threat, but what I want to know is, how much of the power were you
controlling and how much of it was controlling you?"

"I'd never tried
it before!" She growled defensively. "I told you that I knew that I
had the potential and that I thought I knew of a way to use it. I never said
that I was an arcane adept!"

Beyond the bristling
temper of pride and discomfiture, Ian saw fatigue in her pale face and bruised
eyes. Schooling himself to wait until a more propitious time, he soothed her
with the assurance of his gratitude and his respect for her ability. Mollified
but still touchy, Angharad bid him good-bye in a brittle voice once they were
within the confines of the castle keep. Wearily she dragged her feet in the
direction of her rooms.

A hungry Ian wandered
off in search of supper and to tell Alaric what had occurred outside of the
castle walls that afternoon. Alaric was alarmed by the description of the
violence wreaked by the arcane winds and, while he applauded the halt put to
Brescom's offensive, he voiced Ian's fears that such a power out of control
could easily harm them as well.

"Did you ever see
your cousin, the late duchess, use her powers?" Alaric finally asked with
great diffidence. He, more than anyone else within the castle, knew of Ian's
great love and friendship for his cousin and the pain that her death had
brought him. Because of this sensibility he usually avoided the subject of the
late duchess whenever possible.

"No," Ian's
reply was subdued, "but I know that she had some sort of arcane training
from her mother. Lady Angharad has admitted that she has had no arcane training
at all. That might explain why she seemed to lose control. Perhaps now that she
has actually used the House Gift, she will be better equipt to handle it next
time."

"Perhaps."
Alaric agreed more to reassure both himself and Ian than because he was
convinced.

Dinner was waiting to
be served in the main hall and, washing his hands in the basin of water that
Evan brought to him, Ian looked around for Angharad. Told that her ladyship had
requested a tray in her rooms, Ian was surprised at the disappointment he felt.
After he had eaten, Ian retired to his own rooms for solitude and rest.
Kathryn, however, was there before him and in an amorous mood. She had seen the
healing of the breach between Ian and Angharad and it pleased her not at all.
Whilst she held the unofficial position of the duke regent's mistress she held
a corresponding amount of power over certain other people in the castle. If she
was to be deprived of that position, she feared that her loss of status would
be irredeemable and those over whom she now lorded would be the ones wielding
power over her. Thus, she tried to spend as many nights as she could in Ian's
bed and use what wiles she possessed to secure him. In this she had only been
partially successful. He did not openly object to her being in his bed, but
paid scant attention to her when she was there.

This evening, dressed
in very little, she was trying in a very determined fashion to engage his
interest. He put her off at first, saying he had some documents to read, but
she continued to persist until he undressed and joined her in bed, more to have
her be quiet then because of any desire on his side. The result was mutually
unfulfilling but at least it gave him an excuse to feign sleep.

Much later that night
Ian woke, hearing Evan in conversation with a female voice in the room adjacent
to his bedroom. Feeling Kathryn's body beside him and hearing the regularity of
her breathing, Ian slipped out of bed, threw a mantle about himself and went to
investigate. The lamplight was dim and both Evan and his late night visitor
jumped when Ian opened the door.

"Oh, my lord, I
was just coming to get you." Evan, in his rumpled nightshirt with his hair
falling into his eyes, had evidently just been awakened. "Lady Moira here
has come from the Lady Angharad's rooms."

Ian saw a neat, plump
figure come forward and curtsey to him. "I beg your lordship's pardon but
it's about her ladyship that I've come." She sounded nervous, as if she
was not certain that it was here that she ought to be.

"What is wrong
with Lady Angharad?" Ian asked, disconcerted. None of Angharad's women had
ever come from their mistress to him before, and certainly never at such an
hour.

"We were put in
such a fright that we didn't know what to do," the woman exclaimed as she
worried her hands together at her waist. "Her ladyship came to her rooms
early this evening saying that she was too tired to eat and was going straight
to bed. We saw that she was tucked in and she fell asleep almost at once. She
didn't sleep soundly though, and a short time ago she woke the girl who sleeps
in the anteroom with her thrashing and moaning. She didn't wake up when we went
in to see what the matter was. She's never been like this and we didn't know
what to do. Dame Edwinna wasn't in her room when we went to ask her what to do,
and we thought that someone ought to be told. Anyway, since you are her husband
and all..." The woman's embarrassment overcame her and her words trailed
off as she lowered her eyes to the floor.

Taking little notice of
the woman’s discomfort, Ian lit a candle and returned to his own room for more
adequate attire, and ordered Evan to go and rouse the castle's healer and meet
him in her ladyship's rooms.