Weaving the Strands of Love

Weaving the Strands of Love

  By

  Lazette Gifford

  Copyright 2011 Lazette Gifford

  An ACOA Publication

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  A storm invariably gathered over the mountains when Prince Idas visited his brother the magician. He'd come to expect the weather and dressed for rain no matter how sunny the weather had been at the Dendari castle. By the time he reached the mountainside, the weather would always have turned cold and wet.

  He'd asked Pelias why this always happened, but his younger brother shrugged the question away. Idas suspected the weather reflected Pel's moods. If so, this boded ill. Pelias was on his way to becoming the most powerful magician in the world. Someone who possessed such inherent ability could be a danger to others, until they learned self-control. No one had realized the boy had magic until his teens, long past the time to begin training. So Pelias lived alone in his far tower.

  "Damn weather," Idas mumbled as the clouds opened up yet again. He grabbed at the slick pommel of the saddle, and cursed under his breath.

  Marl, the Centaur he rode, gave a quick flick of his head and a snort of amusement. "You say the same thing every time. You still make this journey every few months. You might think about taking one of the horses next time and at least let me stay dry."

  "You know a horse won't come near this place because of the magic."

  "Oh, true. You'd have to walk, wouldn't you? What a horrible thing that might be, the fine prince putting his dainty feet in the dirt."

  Idas refrained from pushing his not-so-dainty feet into the Centaur's ribs. He'd learned not to give in to Centaur wit, because a Centaur would leave even a Prince of the Line sitting in the mud. Marl's grandfather had once bucked off the King himself, and lived to tell the tale to several adoring generations of Centaurs.

  He appreciated Marl's companionship, which took his mind off the reason he came here. Prince Idas's fingers touched the pouch beneath his cloak. Under the fine silk he could feel the small mass of thirty long, golden hairs wrapped in a circle and placed them within. These were the last ones he would have to bring to his brother. Soon the spell would be finished.

  Marl stomped through the mud puddles, either having a lot of fun or very mad. Idas could never be certain of centaur temperament, despite having grown up with Marl. Idas had spent more time with Marl then he had with Pelias, in fact. His brother, younger by five years, had always seemed odd to him, though he had liked the boy.

  He watched ahead, hoping to see his brother's tower. He couldn't judge how long the journey might take since the tower moved from trip-to-trip, another vestige of his brother's vigorous magic.

  "I think we're getting closer." Marl lifted a hand to the air, and felt for magic, which a centaur could sense.

  "Good." Idas pulled at his cloak and tried not to think fondly of the castle hall, and the warm hearth he'd left behind. He'd be glad to see Pel. He missed his younger brother. Pel had come here when the priests realized the boy had magic, but not learned any control. And Idas. . . .

  Idas knew his life would soon change because their father wasn't well. The Prince already handled most of the daily work. The King wouldn't live through the next winter, and after the passing Prince Idas would become King Idas of Dendari. He shivered at the thought.

  "You can't be that cold, and I know you aren't afraid of Pel, so what's bothering you now?" Marl asked.

  Damn the centaurs, who never missed anything. He almost shrugged off the answer. However, they were alone here, and he could trust Marl, who was an old friend. "I'm thinking about the future, Marl."

  "Ah." Marl stopped and twisted his head to look at him. "You'll make a good king."

  Idas couldn't have been more stunned if the Centaur had thrown him in the mud. "Thank you. Your words help. Everyone accepts the change is coming but I doubt they've thought about what will happen when the king dies."

  "Oh, some of us have considered the situation," Marl replied, starting along the trail once more. He still found every mud puddle. "The general consensus is you'll throw a damn big party. You won't disappoint us, will you?"

  "Ha!" Everyone knew Idas loved gatherings. "We'll have to wait until it's . . . seemly. Besides, I'll need time to settle in."

  "Just don't settle in so well you're no fun anymore," Marl answered. He sounded serious. "We've had enough of dourness with your father. He never was much for enjoyment. He should have remarried."

  Prince Idas didn't answer. The conversation felt uncomfortable, touching on why he made this gods-be-damned trip.

  His fingers brushed the silk and he thought about his wife, waiting for him to come home. He wished he could trust she would always be there.

  "You're too quiet," Marl complained.

  A clap of thunder startled both him and Marl, saving Idas from having to answer. Idas grabbed at the pommel, wishing Centaur saddles were a bit more generously proportioned. He suspected the Centaurs made them this way because they liked to dump humans who annoyed them.

  "And there the tower is," Marl said.

  The sudden appearance of his brother's keep still amazed Idas. He couldn't get used to the magical materialization of something so substantial which should have been rooted in one place. The building rose in several odd layers, as though different architects had made designs and then someone jumbled them all together. The trees and plants which had been displaced by the arrival still moved a bit, settling back in. He couldn't watch those rearrangements without feeling a chill of distress so he watched the tower instead. He saw a glowing light in an upper window; a promise of warmth and someplace dry, at least for a while.

  The gate opened without one around. They entered the courtyard as the storm let loose once more. Idas scowled at the sky, growling a little curse at the weather. He slid from Marl's saddle as Pelias hurried out into the rain.

  "Idiot!" Marl shook his head in disbelief. "Get in out of the weather!"

  "Come in, come in!" Pelias grinned with delight to see him so Idas refrained from complaining about the ride and the weather.

  "Is Ela around?" Marl asked, looking off to the left where a light flickered.

  "She brought me books earlier so she might be," Pelias replied. "Check the stables. If not, come and join us. I'll leave the door unlatched."

  Marl pranced off toward the stable. Idas grinned, watching him go. No wonder Marl had been so willing to bring him here if he thought the lovely centaur Ela might be around.

  "I wasn't sure you'd return," Pel said.

  "Is there something I should know?" Idas asked. "And is this something which must be discussed in the rain for some arcane reasons which are beyond the understanding of poor, magic-less humans?"

  Pel grinned and glanced into the sky, shaking his head. "I don't know why the weather keeps changing. I had a lovely, sunny afternoon. Come in. The fire's warm."

  Pel led the way inside. Idas always enjoyed visiting is brother, despite the weather. Pel didn't treat him like the heir-apparent or the soon-to-be-king, bowing and simpering at his presence.

  Well, maybe the most powerful mage in the world didn't need to bow and simper to the king of any country, including the one at the base of his mountain. There was a humbling thought. He needed humbling now and then.

  They climbed one set of stairs past the ground floor storage area and to the living quarters. The place felt warm, but lacking in the trappings of civilization. The tower room held no more than two chairs placed by the central hearth and a table stacked with books and papers sat by the open window. A soft breeze blew
through the opening, though no rain penetrated his brother's warding spell. A parchment lay half uncurled and weighed down with an odd shaped rock. He wondered what Pel studied.

  Pel reached the fireside damp dark hair falling across his eyes. Idas couldn't make out his expression, though from the sudden flash of lightning and the crash of thunder, he could guess something troubled his brother.

  "What's wrong?" Idas asked. "You're bothered by something."

  Pel paused for a moment. "There's nothing you can help with."

  "Not surprising. You can still talk to me anyway. Pel, I've been worried about you here alone. This life can't be easy, despite your magic."

  He started to speak and stopped himself yet again.

  "You could always talk to me," Idas replied as he settled into one of the chairs by the fire.

  "This place is empty," Pel admitted softly.

  Idas suppressed the urge to answer with something trite or to order Pel home. Neither would help. "I'm sorry," Idas replied. "Perhaps you should get a servant or two at least."

  "No. I can't. They wouldn't