Embrace the Mystery (The Blood Rose #3)(16)
Author: Caris Roane

“There,” Davido cried out. “I can see more of Grochaire. It’s working.”

“How do we sustain it,” Batya asked, “so that we can all see?”

Davido tapped the top of Quinlan’s hand. “I think your devotion to Grochaire might just do the trick. Use your other hand and caress the map, in the same way you’ve been doing, but while you do it have Batya cover that hand as well.”

Quinlan didn’t question the troll’s suggestion. The Nine Realms had thousands of forms of magic, one of the things he loved about his world, one of the mysteries, something that changed with each succeeding generation.

When Batya covered his left hand with her right palm, he felt a cool vibration travel up his wrist, all the way up his arm to his shoulder. He focused on the map and in slow circles pressed his fingers over the newly created area. He could see the land unfolding before his eyes, the symbols for mountains, for streams, for caves, everything. The names stunned him, however, because they could be found in the age-old children’s tales of the Nine Realms: the Great River Caverns of Pickerne, Gem Meadow, the Dead Forest that continued through the Pleach Mountains, and the Snowfields of Rayne. All on this map.

At the same time, he worked their joined hands east, pushing toward Walvashorr in small increments, until at last an entirely new section of map emerged, a bordered space called, of course, Ferrenden Peace.

Davido offered, “Vojalie said that once the location has been revealed, that you should contact Mastyr Seth.”

Quinlan turned toward Davido. “Then you knew Ferrenden Peace would be revealed in this way?” His temper shot up a couple of notches as Davido shrugged. “Anything else, old man? Anything else you’ve got in your satchel or any other words from Vojalie-the-wise? Any more instructions? Should we call on the eastern mastyrs and involve them as well?”

“No need to get snippy, Mastyr Quinlan. I do as I’m bid and part of that means holding back until the moment is ripe.”

Quinlan lost the rest of his patience. He lifted a brow, crossed his arms over his chest and waited.

“Oh, very well. Here is what my beloved wife told me. I’m sure she wouldn’t object, especially if she knew her dearest husband was being threatened by a powerful vampire.”

These taunting words slid right over Quinlan’s thick skin. “Spill, troll, or I’m likely to turn you upside down.”

At that, Davido, rather than being offended, laughed heartily. “I have not been troll-turned in a donkey’s age. Ah well, but I can see your nostrils are flaring now.” He glanced at Batya and Lorelei. “You must each pack several changes of clothing, sturdy footwear, and of course a toothbrush. Vojalie was not certain how long the journey would take.”

Batya’s brows rose. “These are very specific instructions.”

“She also said you weren’t to worry about warm clothing, that what you needed would be amply provided along the way.”

“Warm clothing?” At that, Quinlan turned to the map again and once more caressed the new section. A new reality emerged, “Sweet Goddess, will you look at that.”

“What?” three voices intoned.

“Do you see this section of the mountains?”

“Yes?” Three voices again.

“Two hundred years ago, I built a stronghold right here, right at the edge of the hidden section. Some part of me must have known.”

“Did you feel a connection to the place?” Batya asked.

He met her gaze. “Only that I thought it rugged and magnificent.” He glanced down at the map once more. “Holy shit.”

Again, three voices, cried out. “What?”

He met and held Batya’s gaze. “Your paintings, the ones you won’t sell, I think you laid out the entire journey for us.”

* * * * * * * * *

Batya’s flowered canvas satchel rested beside her right foot on the solid wood planks of her gallery floor. She stared at all four paintings and knew Quinlan had called it right. Each subject indicated some aspect of the places they’d have to go through to get to Ferrenden Peace. Traveling through the air, a meadow, a forest, and finally dense snowfields.

In the space of forty-eight hours, she’d gone from artist, gallery owner, and clinic healer to an adventurer trying to save a fellow realm-woman from enslavement, on a journey she’d painted years ago. Incredible.

Very realm.

Lorelei drew close and took Batya’s hand. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

She met her friend’s gaze, then smiled. “This is the right path.”

“And you’re happy about it?”

At that, Batya laughed, pivoting toward Lorelei. “Hell, no, but it’s still the right path.”

Lorelei’s eyes grew bright in the way that Davido’s did quite often. Still holding Batya’s hand, she gave her fingers a squeeze. “Then, thank you.” She swallowed hard and drew in a deep breath. “But there’s something else you should know.”

“Oh, sweet Goddess, there’s more?”

Quinlan, having reached the bottom of the stairs and still barefoot, called out, “Are you two ready?”

“Almost.” Batya stepped back so that he could see them both. “Apparently, Lorelei needs to share one more bit of news with us.”

Quinlan’s brows grew together in a tight, concerned frown, a familiar look for him. “What now?”

Davido moved up beside Quinlan. “It’s probably about Margetta. Vojalie said we’d get one more surprise. Tell us, child.”

“My mother will be here in a few minutes and she’s bringing a powerful wind with her, as well as a few chosen wraith-pairs.”

Batya turned to stare at her. “But how do you know that? A vision?”

“It’s a mother-daughter thing, part of the reason she wants me under her control. I can, to a small degree, predict her movements.”

Quinlan hurried toward them. “Then we’d better go.”

Davido joined them, leaning up to kiss Batya on the cheek. “Farewell, daughter. We part here. I must return to Vojalie. We have a strict agreement about the first year of a child’s life.”

“I know. I love you, papa.”

“And I you, my most precious, most beloved offspring.”

“Hug Bernice for me.”

“Of course I will.” His gaze moved past her. “But I fear your visitor has arrived.”

Batya glanced at the plate glass window and saw that a red wind flowed down the street. Margetta had arrived in a glow of golden light accompanied by a formidable array of wraith-pairs. She hovered beyond the window ready to attack surrounded by a thin enthrallment shield of her own making, which would in turn keep her Invictus brigade invisible to human eyes. The original mastyr vampire wraith-pairs flanked her.