was gone and I laughed even harder knowing that he had failed at whatever he planned. Have I mentioned that I sometimes lack all common sense? Finding his target unreachable, Devon did something I should have expected, if I had been thinking rather than laughing at him.
My courser, the beautiful horse that was galloping beneath me, froze. I don’t have a better way to describe it. One moment we were racing the wind, the next every muscle in the poor beast’s body locked up. It went down immediately, legs snapping as it struck the earth like thunder, twisting and rolling. I might have felt sorry for it, but my own problems were nearly as great. Still laughing I suddenly felt as if a giant hand had plucked me from my seat. As the horse went down I sailed forward, like some great misshapen bird flying headlong into the trees. I probably would have flown a great distance but for a large oak tree that stopped my forward progress.
I woke on the ground. Something wet was running down my face, making it hard to see, so I reached up to wipe it off and my hand came away covered in blood. I could hardly breathe; each shuddering breath came with stabbing pains in my side. Some of my ribs must have been cracked. Miraculously both arms and legs seemed functional, but I could not help but think that if it hadn’t been for my shield I would be dead already. He tried to kill me! That thought ran through my mind and it seemed extremely important, although I was having trouble remembering why.
A shadow fell over me and I looked up, Devon stood over me with a smile so evil I knew he had not tried to kill me. He was there to finish the job. “Grethak!” he spoke and my body went rigid. I was beginning to understand what my poor horse had gone through and perhaps Penny as well, but I didn’t have time to worry about that. “Poor Mordecai, you really shouldn’t have been riding so fast!” he said.
In his hands he held a large leather pouch, “And here I was just trying to catch up with you, to give you the money I owe!” I was struggling internally now, my lungs were locked and I could not breathe. Imagine drowning, tied and unable to move and you’ll be close to the sensation I was experiencing. Nothing worked and my heart was beating faster and faster, pounding in my ears as my body starved for air. Within my mind I could feel his magic, wrapped like a snake about my brain, paralyzing my movement centers. I tried to pull it loose, but it was difficult, more so because I had no way to speak. Even so, I could eventually have gotten free, with or without words, but I didn’t have that much time.
Devon was standing over me, gloating, but I could no longer hear his words over the pounding of my heart in my ears. I felt a fool as I stared up at him with my eyes bulging. My vision grew dim and then I could not see at all. Trapped in darkness I wondered if the next life would be better, this one had been nothing but trouble. At last the darkness left me and I sank into oblivion.
Chapter 14
Frequently misunderstood are the gifts of those who are sometimes called prophets, or seers. They are thought to be similar in nature to channelers in that they do not possess a large amount of native aythar, in many cases they also show little emmittance as well. The visions that frequently haunt them seem to be largely unintentional in nature. Possibly they possess some sort of subconscious sensitivity similar to magesight, but below the threshold of awareness.
Penelope’s shoulders moved steadily, the muscles tensing and relaxing as her arms swept the floors. She was young and healthy, long practice had given her ample stamina for the task so that she hardly broke a sweat as she worked her way down the long corridor. It was one of those jobs that never seemed to end. By the time you had finished sweeping the entire labyrinth of Lancaster Castle the floors were dirty again back where you had started. Consequently the maids had someone sweeping almost constantly as Genevieve Lancaster would not tolerate dirty floors.
Penny didn’t mind though, the work was steady and unlike most of her other tasks she was able to think or daydream without interruption while she swept. Today she was thinking about Mordecai. She had watched him that morning as he had ridden out with the hunting party. Tall and slim, the riding leathers had looked uncommonly good on him, accented by his dark hair and bright eyes. To be so good looking and so stupid at the same time, she thought to herself. Their conversation the night before had upset her, and she was still angry with him. She kept telling herself that, but she just didn’t feel it. In all honesty as she thought back, she was more ashamed and embarrassed than anything else.
When he said he knew what had happened… I just couldn’t bear it, she realized. Obviously Devon had been bragging, and so bold that he had even told Mort. And he was upset that Devon had called him a blacksmith! She knew Mordecai wasn’t so insensitive as that, he hadn’t meant it that way. Yet to tell her he knew what had been done to her, and then say something else was more important? “What the hell could he have wanted to tell me then?” she said aloud to herself. Now that she had slept and her mind was clear she could see that something had been bothering him, something important.
She kept sweeping, letting the rhythmic movement of her body relax her mind. She drifted, daydreaming as she worked, but Mordecai kept returning to her mind, until finally she saw him, as he must be now. He was riding hard, driving his horse through sparse woods and past large oaks. The sun was shining on his face, lighting his eyes up like sapphires while he laughed and rode on. He looked over his shoulder to see something, and then he was flying. The horse fell and she could see that it would never recover from such a fall. Mort flew from the courser’s back at the speed of a full gallop and flew head first into the trunk of a large oak.
The force had been so great his head had sheared the bark from the tree where it struck; while his body lay on the ground, blood running from his nose and mouth. He must surely be dead, yet even at that thought new hope arose. His eyes fluttered and she could see his chest heaving as he fought to draw air. The wind had been knocked out of him, or perhaps his ribs were broken, in either case it was a miracle he was alive. No one should survive such a blow, no one could survive such a blow. Magic! she thought, and she knew it had to be true.
Then she saw Devon Tremont approaching. He had dismounted and was walking up with a sinister gleam in his eye. He stopped when he reached Mordecai and she saw him speak, gloating over his fallen foe. Mordecai went rigid and his face began to turn red, while in the background Penny could hear a woman screaming, a raw ragged sound. The voice of someone beyond hope, someone with nothing left but one long note of despair rising up from the depths of their soul. Finally she realized it was her own voice.
Someone was shaking her, “Snap out of it! Penny! What’s wrong?!” Her eyes focused on the face of Ariadne Lancaster. She was staring at her with a worried look.
“He’s dead, he’s dead, oh god I saw this before! Why? Why didn’t I tell him?” Penny was beyond distraught now. “Devon’s killed Mordecai.” The words fell from her mouth like dead leaves in autumn, dry and empty.
“Penny you’re dreaming… you’re in the hall. Mordecai isn’t here… he’s out hunting, everything is fine.” Ariadne tried to calm her down.
“I have to go… do you know where Lady Rose is? She’ll know what to do, please Ariadne you have to help me.” Something in her eyes must have gotten through to the younger woman because she answered her without further questions.
“She was in the parlor just a moment ago, taking tea with mother and Elizabeth,” she replied. “I don’t understand what’s wrong though…”
Penny was already running, and she reached the Duchess’ parlor well ahead of the younger girl. Without pausing to knock she burst in, something she normally would not have dared to do. Inside she found Lady Rose sipping tea with Genevieve Lancaster and Elizabeth Balistair. They looked up in alarm at her sudden intrusion. The Duchess spoke first, “Penny you really should knock before you come bursting in…”
Rose laid a hand on her arm, “Wait Genevieve, something is wrong.”
Penny shook her head, “Yes, yes, your grace, might I have a word with Lady Rose?”
Genevieve nodded, clearly annoyed but she kept her peace. Rose stepped out into the hallway with Penny. “What’s the matter dear?” She sounded calm but she could sense Penny’s desperation. Sparing few words Penny described what she had seen, including the fact that this was not her first vision of the event.
