Magic In The Storm (19 page)

“A good friend?” the man laughed.

“Of course! Apollo is my friend. We
communicate and look after each other. Is that not what friends
do?”

“You converse with your horse?” the second
one said mockingly.

Morgan was not used to being in the company
of strangers. Perhaps he was saying something wrong that made these
men laugh at him. For a moment, he missed his safe little cottage
where the only cruelty came from his mother. He knew how to respond
to her.

“All right, Marko,” the first man
interrupted. “If he says he speaks to his horse, who are we to
argue? Where do you travel to, friend?”

“To London,” Morgan answered turning back to
the first man, who had now seated himself to Morgan’s left. The
three men must be brothers, Morgan thought. They all had the same
dark, swarthy features, and the same accent.

“Ah. ‘Tis a fine city. Have you
friends you will be visiting?”

“I am going to meet a young lady. A friend of
mine,” Morgan added quickly when the men exchanged knowing looks
between them.

“Ah ha. Well, I hope you have brought her
some fine gifts,” he said, nodding toward Morgan’s bag that was
sitting next to him on the ground. “You know how the ladies like
such things.”

No. He didn’t know. And, in fact, he hadn’t
even given it a thought. But now that he did think of it, that
didn’t sound like a bad idea, especially if she were unhappy with
him. Morgan thought for a moment about what he might give her. He
had nothing, but a change of clothes and a bit of food.

“I have the earrings my cousin gave me!” he
exclaimed out loud as he thought of it.

“Earrings? Are they fine gold. Only the
finest will do. And stones of good quality, of course,” the man
said.

Morgan hadn’t even taken a good look at what
Kat had given him. He fished them out of his bag now. The man
leaned over as Morgan looked at them in the fire light.

“May I see them?” he asked.

Morgan handed the earrings to him. He took
one and handed the other to the second man who was on his other
side. The red garnet flashed in the fire light as Morgan caught the
second man putting the earring to his mouth to test the softness of
the gold.

They handed Morgan back the earrings. “Yes, I
suppose they might do. They are small, but pretty enough. You’ll
have to buy her more and perhaps some fine fabrics as well if you
are to catch her fancy.”

Morgan nearly let his mouth fall open. “But I
don’t have money to buy such things.”

“None at all?” the second man asked.

Morgan shook his head. “All I have is the
gold necklace my cousin gave me with her earrings. I’ll need to
sell that in order to buy food and lodging.”

“May I see it?” the man asked.

Morgan fished that out as well, after
dropping Kat’s earrings back into his bag. The necklace was duly
inspected as the earrings had been.

The second man, upon handing it back to the
first, gave him a nod. “Yes, that will do,” he said.

“I wish you the best of luck,” the first man
said, handing the necklace back to Morgan.

“You wouldn’t happen to have any food in that
bag of yours, would you?” the third man asked in his gruff
voice.

Morgan nodded and pulled out the dried meat
and his water skin. There was barely enough to go around, but each
man had enough at least to stave off their hunger for the
night.

After they had eaten, the men settled
themselves down on the ground to sleep. Morgan stuffed his bag
under his head to use as a pillow, and felt bad that he had nothing
to offer the other men for any comfort. He was so exhausted,
however, that he didn’t worry about it for long.

Before he knew it, Morgan was being tugged
awake by something slipping out from underneath his head. He
couldn’t fathom why Oberon might be plaguing him this early in the
morning. He rolled over to press his face into his bed, but instead
found the cold hard ground.

Apollo’s whinny of fright woke him
completely. As he moved to sit up his head was snapped back and
pain exploded across his cheek. He tried to open his eyes, but all
he saw was the blurry outline of one of the men whom he had met the
night before, and black spots dancing in front of his eyes. A fist
was coming at him a second time, but Morgan moved fast enough to
avoid it hitting him in the face.

He kicked to get the man away from him, and
landed a good blow in his stomach, but that didn’t deter the fellow
for more than a moment. Instead of moving away, the man jumped on
top of him instead, straddling him and pinning him to the
ground.

Apollo gave another cry of alarm, this time
further away, as if he were moving deeper into the woods.

The man took a second to look up toward the
horse, and Morgan used his inattention to his advantage. He flipped
the man over and got the upper hand. That lasted for all of a
minute when he was flipped onto his own back again. With all the
strength he had, he shot his fist upward into the man’s nose.

The man fell off to the side, clutching at
his face, blood dripping from between his fingers.

Morgan jumped to Apollo’s aid, but was
stopped by a fist to his stomach by the second man who must have
been standing off to the side. Morgan fell back to the ground,
doubled over in pain. The man jumped on Morgan’s back and shoved
his face down into the ground. The rich smell of the earth filled
Morgan’s nose as the rough dirt scraped at his face.

“Let the boy go!” a woman’s sharp voice
called out from behind his head.

Morgan struggled to move hoping that the man
would be distracted by this newcomer, but only found his face
pressed harder into the solid earth.

“I said, let him go.” The woman’s voice was
closer now.

Morgan tried to turn his head to see who his
would–be rescuer was, but the man on top of him pulled his head up
by his hair and then smashed it back down onto the ground again.
Morgan managed to turn his head just enough to keep his nose from
being broken, but the pain to his already sore cheek was
excruciating.

“Leave this be, Cosmina!” the man on top of
Morgan said in a rough, commanding voice.

“No! I cannot let you harm him.” She was
right next to Morgan now, but still the man held his face down.

“Return to the camp, now!”

“I will not! Leave him be.”

Suddenly Morgan felt the pressure holding him
down being released. He lifted his head just enough to see a
middle–aged woman in a brilliantly colored dress of blue and yellow
grabbing the man’s arm and pulling it back.

The man jumped off Morgan and smashed his
hand against the woman’s face sending her flying to the ground.
“How dare you touch me, woman! It is unforgivable!”

Fury filled Morgan in a rush and the man who
had dared to lay his hand against the woman was suddenly lifted off
the ground thrown against the oak tree on the other side of the
clearing. Morgan rushed to the woman’s side, gingerly running his
hands down her face.

She looked up at him with a touch a fear in
her eyes. “It’s all right.” Morgan said, gently. “He won’t touch
you again.”

She struggled to sit up, but nearly collapsed
again in pain, cradling her left arm to her body. Morgan touched
her arm. It must have broken when she tried to stop her fall.

He would have fixed it immediately, but
Apollo’s whinny reminded him that this fight wasn’t over yet.

He turned to see his horse rear up on his
hind legs, forcing the man who was holding him to let go.

“Good Apollo!” Morgan called in
encouragement.

The man took one look at Morgan and then at
his fallen comrades, and bolted for the forest The man with the
broken nose hobbled off in his wake.

Morgan turned back to the woman sitting
beside him. Very carefully he took her arm in his hands. Summoning
his magic, he mended the bone quickly and easily.

Her mouth was hanging open and her dusky
complexioned face was already beginning to show signs of a large
black and blue mark along her high cheekbone. Ignoring these, he
asked, “Are you well enough to stand?”

She closed her mouth and nodded.

Gently, he helped her to her feet. “You know
those men. Do you need to follow them? Do you stay with them?”

The woman shook her head. Then, in a quiet,
unsteady voice she said softly, “I cannot go back with them, they
would, would...”

“You need not go with them. You may come with
me instead. I go to London.”

Her dark eyes filled with fear as she looked
back toward the woods where the men had disappeared. Turning back
once again to Morgan, she nodded, “If you would be so kind as to
take me with you. I... I can never return to my clan.”

Morgan did not understand exactly what she
meant by her clan, but he understood she would accompany him.
Retrieving his bag that the men had left lying on the ground, he
helped the woman up onto Apollo’s back. She settled herself on the
horse, pulling her long black hair behind her and fixing her
headscarf back into its proper position on her head. When she was
ready, Morgan led Apollo back on to the road before mounting behind
the woman.

Without a backward glance, they set off for
London.

After they had traveled a safe distance from
the wood, Morgan finally ventured to ask the questions burning
through his mind, “Where do you come from? How did you know those
men?”

The woman kept her head turned toward the
road ahead. But answered him softly. “We... I am a gypsy. Those men
are members of my clan. We travel together, going from town to
town, selling our wares and services. Those men you met earn extra
money by stealing from unwary travelers such as yourself.”

Morgan nodded, now understanding what a fool
he had been. They had managed to trick him into showing them all of
his wealth and then, when he was unaware, had nearly got away with
stealing everything, including his beloved horse.

The woman turned around to look at Morgan for
a moment. “Please, do not blame me. I have told them they should
not do such things, but they will not listen to a woman.”

Deliberately softening his features, Morgan
realized he must have been looking stern. He patted the woman on
the back awkwardly. “It is all right. I don’t blame you. In fact,
if it were not for you, I would be in a very sorry state right
now.” He paused, and took a deep breath, fully realizing just how
much he owed this kind woman. “Thank you. You saved my life.”

The woman shook her head. “No. I merely did
what I felt was right.”

“Why
did
you do it?” Morgan could not
help but ask. He would have hoped that anyone would do the same
thing, but from what Kat had told him of the outside world, he knew
that was not always true.

The woman turned to look back at Morgan once
again, a small smile playing on her lips. “You remind me of my son.
He would have been about your age if he had not died three winters
ago.”

“I am sorry,” Morgan said quietly.

The woman turned back toward the road, and
gave a little shrug. “He was a good boy, although he too let his
hair grow too long.”

Morgan laughed. Kat had often complained he
didn’t cut his hair often enough, but he liked it long.

“He was strong and kind,” the woman went on
quietly. “And he would never have used his strength against another
unless forced to do so.”

Morgan nodded, understanding.

They rode on in silence for some time and
then the woman turned back and asked, “How, how did you... you sent
Petsha flying from me without laying a hand on him. And my arm...”
her voice faded off in confusion as she absentmindedly rubbed her
arm where it had broken.

Morgan thought about this for a few moments.
How much could he tell this woman? Once again he had done magic in
front of a stranger—though this time, his mother wasn’t here to
punish him.

He wondered if the woman would run screaming
in fright from him if he told her he was Vallen. He wondered if she
would know what that meant. He knew that ordinary people sometimes
got them confused with witches and because of that, his people had
been persecuted and wrongfully executed for centuries.

Would this woman tell others that he had
magic? Would she have him killed as so many others had been? How
could he know if he could trust her?

“There are stories told by our elders that
tell of those with magnificent strength, but you did not even touch
him.”

“I... I can move things with my mind,” Morgan
said hesitantly.

The woman nodded. “And you can heal with your
hands.”

“Yes,” Morgan nodded, “And with potions which
I make.”

“We have potions too. We sell them to the
townspeople who do not have the knowledge to make them themselves.
But I have never met someone who could heal the way you do.”

Morgan shifted a little on Apollo’s back. “It
is my greatest strength. And until recently, my only strength.”

“Have you only recently learned to move
things? Is it something you can teach me?”

Laughing, Morgan said, “No. It is nothing I
have learned. It is a power that is developing inside of me. But I
do not know how or why. That is one reason why I am going to
London. I hope to learn more there.”

The woman turned around and looked at him for
a moment and then asked, “One reason? What is the other?”

Morgan saw her raised eyebrows and couldn’t
hide his own smile. “There is a young lady...”

“Ah ha. I knew it. There is always a young
lady,” she said, turning back around to face the road.

Morgan laughed. “She is a friend, but I think
I may have hurt her feelings the last time I saw her, so I’m eager
to see her and apologize if necessary.”

The woman nodded her head. “That is very
wise. I shall help you to find her,” she stated matter–of–factly,
but with a smile that said so much more.