Elaina J. Davidson's Blog, page 92

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Here's a little spell

 

Chapter 10: T I N S A L

 

Fantasy with a twist; akin to analternate Assassin’s Creed, where tarot cards are the weapons.

Bronwyn, a woman scorned, loses herhonour, status, and her leg, and now the time has come to exact retribution.

Zanderin, a sorcerer bound toher, waves his magic over the attention seeking cards, each with a nameattached, and every card becomes a symbol of doom. This is a cosmic deck, dealingin fate. Via his swift carriage, hooded and cloaked, he is the harbinger and assassin.

Terra meets her betrothed,Rhodry, when Zanderin gifts his first card. Rhodry and Zanderin are connected,and everyone linked to them is on Bronwyn’s list of names.

TINSAL is about bloodlines, secrets,and a controlled society. As the cards are dealt, death follows, until theendgame moves to Castle Tinsal itself.

Chapter 10

 

HILL DWELLER

 

 

The simple pleasures are the greatest treasures.

~ The SineHandbook

 

 

INTHE HILL COUNTRY, far beyond the Merripen’s and their landscaped garden, up in theslopes where mist hung, the kind that Terra favoured for romance andinspiration, there was a stone hut hidden amongst other stones, shaded by treesgreat and leafy all year.

Unless one knewof it, one would not find it.

Nearby, awaterfall tumbled into the wide river below, its thunderous cacophony servingto conceal the inadvertent noises which accompanied habitation.

An ancient axehung above the skewed lintel, but its edge, upon close inspection, was revealedas sharp. Clearly someone did not trust to isolation alone.

Amaris knew thisabout the man who chose solitude in the back of this beyond. He trusted few. Hechose this life rather than remain in the proximity of city hypocrites andrural socialites. Many would hang him in an instant; others believed him alegend. No one knew where he hid - for hiding it was; had she not told him thusmany times?

She knew him, thereal man behind the beard and cloud of unkempt hair, and she knew this place. Along time ago she brought him here for healing, a clandestine region known onlyto her family. She was the last who knew of it now; the family secret would diewith her, and he would never reveal it either.

Breathless when shefinally attained the plateau, she took a moment to confirm she had not beenfollowed, setting the unwieldy basket down. A loud meow announced the catssurvived the jostling.

“I’ll let you outnow, darlings,” she whispered, trying to still her uneven breathing. She wasunfit, not that fitness mattered at this point. She would be dead within thehour.

He was a shadowunder the trees above the precipice. She caught movement, a shadow darker thanothers weaving through the trees, and knew he had marked her arrival. He wouldcome when he was ready to face her.

Shaking her headover his stubborn waywardness, she knelt to undo the basket’s clasp. Momentslater four felines stood with tails quivering upright, eyes darting. One was aslim black, another as white as the snows of winter, another was a stripedginger, the loudmouth of the quartet, and the last one was shiny grey, with thebluest cats’ eyes ever. He was the youngest, but also the boldest, and wasalready leader. He was her favourite, although she would never admit to playingfavourites. He cared for his little family very well. The black was hisbrother, the white his mother, and the ginger was a stray who wandered intotheir country cottage one day and never left.

Much like the manin this rocky hideaway.

“Mist, go,” shecoaxed.

The grey cocked ablue eye at her, his tail whisking from side to side, and then he stepped intothe undergrowth. He did not look back, and her heart was heavy. The othersfollowed, and they did look back. She barely swallowed a sob.

And then shesensed him behind her.

Slowly she turned.

Bright green eyesstare into hers. Green into green.

“Kell,” shesobbed, “I have come here to die.”

 

 

ZANDERINHELD TWO CARDS up to the light.

Both were alreadybound to names upon Bronwyn’s whim. There would be consequences if he did notdeliver as she expected. But here, now, there was an alteration in nuance shecould not be aware of. Change he, too, was surprised by.

A choice laybefore him. Did he modify nuance, and therefore the fates of all involved inthis cosmic tarot Bronwyn of Tinsal had set her hard heart to? Or did he turnaround and walk away, to pretend even to himself that he had not witnessed adead man walking along a precipice?

How well the manmanaged to disappear. How enlightening.

His previousself, it appeared, had much in common with this particular man. Both of themmanaged to utterly vanish.

Kell Sindaland’scard went to his niece, Terra. She inherited the Arbiter because justice had to be served, but her card was alsoabout virtue, for virtue was inherent in seeking the truth for justice to reignsupreme. Never mind her skills of negotiation, though; had her virtue beencompromised already? Society would say it was so, purely because she clamberedwithout sanction into a stranger’s carriage, and no matter if that stranger wasalso her betrothed. In which scenario she deserved her card. On the other hand,a priest entered at the opportune moment. Perhaps her virtue could be arguedfor.

As once Bronwynargued for hers.

And yet, whateverthe dispute, Terra and the Arbiter were now bound and it could not be altered. Bindingof such a nature should only be changed once. Or it was moot. Card. Name. Fate.Nuance.

Arbiter for Kell,first binding. Undone.

Now Arbiter forTerra, second binding. Entrenched. It was too late now to alter her fate.

That change ofbinding set a precedent, however, one even Bronwyn would hark to. A precedentZanderin could now employ to save one man’s life … and thereby return the fateof death to one previously marked for it.

His choice nowwhether to allocate one of these two cards within his clasp to Kell Sindalandinstead, thereby saving the life of the one it was originally marked for.

 

 

Earlier

THEWITCH AMARIS DID not see him.

He desired towitness how she would achieve her promised demise, and thus followed when she lefther cottage lugging a basket filled with meowing cats. Their unhappy soundsmasked his tread at first, as the trees hid him from her sharp gaze. She lookedback repeatedly. Later he fell right back and employed his abilities to trackher scent.

The climb nearlyundid him. Too long now had he bent over scrolls and accruements. Little did heexercise his body the way he did his mind. Every gasping breath had been worththe result before him.

The cats hadvanished.

And Amaris andKell stared at each other as if they were of stone not flesh.

Were they loversstill?

 

 

Now

“AREYOU ILL?” Kell asked in his gravelly tones.

He remainedexpressionless, although that could have something to do with her inability toread him, what with all that hair around.

Amaris inhaledbreath for serenity. “No, I am not ill, but there is something very wrong inthe ether of life at present. Bronwyn of Tinsal is on the warpath.”

He finally moved …to spread his hands wide. A gesture to say he could not care less. That was awar he had already fought.

She bit back anoath, knowing it would not aid her now. “I told you years ago that Zanderinintensifies his study of sorcery, and I also told you the day would come whenshe will use his new knowledge. Kell, that day has come. You know what happenedthe first time he unleashed it as an untried boy; imagine what he is capable ofnow.”

His palms, maderough in living off the land, lifted to tame his hair. From somewhere a leatherthong appeared, and he tied the black cloud away from his face. Immediately hisnoble features leapt out. Kell Sindaland might be country born, but someone inhis line of descent was pure royalty.

She caught herbreath. He could still affect her.

Amaris had notmet Lily Merripen, Kell’s older sister, but had no doubt that particular ladypossessed patrician features also. She made a good marriage, after all, for acountry born, and did it without a betrothal waiting in the wings.

“What is Zanderinup to?” Kell asked as he proceeded to tamp his long beard with firm strokes.“And why does that send you here to die?”

In answer shedelved into her skirt’s pocket and came forth with her tarot card. She held itup. “I am marked. Rather than have Zanderin lay his hand or his weapon into meto kill me, I prefer to die in my way. Here, where there are no witnesses.”

He took the Visionary card from her, and stared atit. “I am here. A witness.”

“You must leavethis place within the hour.”

Kell lifted hishead. “No.”

“Yes. Your nieceTerra, remember her? Beautiful, betrothed, with a bright future awaiting her?We spoke of her just last month. She is given a card in your stead. She standsin your place now as marked. If you have anything left there in that cold heartof yours, you will put an end to it.”

“Cosmic Tarot? Truly?This is an Al Kari myth and has no place in this narrow-minded society,” he rebutted.

“Not for Bronwyn.Not when Zanderin waves his crystals over them. And this may be an actual AlKari deck and you must confirm that before confronting her.”

He gazed up intothe sombre heaven. “I have no fucking intention of confronting that crazy bitchagain.”

“Kell, I don’tthink you have a choice but to do so.” Her tone was sad.

“Which card isfor Terra?”

“Arbiter.”

He looked at heragain, frowning. “Arbiter? A speaker, a negotiator … ah. Justice.” Silenceensued for a time as he mulled that over. “The fucking bitch. Amaris, how doyou know any of this is fact?”

She snatched hercard from him and slapped it against his chest. “This is a fact. Zanderin came to me earlier - fact. And as for the rest … well, he didn’t gift me the Visionarycard for no reason, now did he? Whatever you choose to believe about the realmsof sorcery, know now for a fact thatI am a witch. I do see … I haveseen.”

Kell took thecard and tore it into pieces, and then he cursed, the kind of vitriolic expletivesone usually associated with drunkards … and soldiers.

 

 

TWOCARDS. AND GIVEN where Sindaland was and how he was an unknown entity, only one couldbe named for him and thus become his.

Zanderin nodded,returning a card to his pocket, holding the chosen one up. Very well, it wastime to employ precedent.

He placed thetarot selection at eye level against the trunk of a tree Kell Sindaland had topass by if he was to descend his hill enclave for the flatness of society’slands, and proceeded to hammer a nail into it.

Both nail andhammer were of sorcery.

As was the freshbinding.

Somewhere a man wenton with his life, and would never know how close he came to time shortened. He wouldnever now play Cosmic Tarot. Zanderin hoped the man did something with hissecond chance. He might check in on him a few years from now…

He tapped thecard as he left, offering a smile to the peaks yonder. No need to stay, towitness. Amaris would keep her word. And Kell would leave here.

The Outsider suited him.

The Outsider wasa card of contemplation, a man who desired peace and solitude. A lonelywanderer from places far away in abode and thought; clearly what Kell Sindalandsought to achieve when vanishing from society. He was not in this presentseeking action or decision. There might be feelings of frustration anddiscontent in his withdrawal, but he no doubt hoped for illumination andclarity. He was an outsider.

The Outsider couldalso be a wise and inspirational person, someone to shine a light on matterscryptic and confusing; someone who saw issues in a manner that altered nuance.Kell Sindaland was a dangerous man.

Indeed, a fittingcard.

T I N S A L

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