A Distant Magic Page 11

  Jean also wavered, too weakened to maintain the flow of desert air. Immediately, the whirling storm energy began to coalesce again. Grimly she dug deeper into herself. Her ancestor Adam Macrae had almost died when he tried to conjure a hurricane to stop the Spanish Armada, and he was infinitely more powerful than she. If she died, so be it, but by God, she would take this damned storm with her.

  She pulled more power from Gregorio, but it wasn't enough. In a last desperate attempt, she reached a thousand miles to the north, hoping she could connect with her brother. It should have been impossible, yet miraculously, she realized that she had established a tenuous connection. His power flowed into her. Not much, the distance was impossible—but it was Macrae power, and it sang the song of the winds.

  Knowing she had only one last chance, she pooled all the available power and stabbed it through the heart of the tempest, driving toward all the quarters of the compass to shatter its structure.

  The storm lost its coherence and fell apart. Clouds scattered in all directions, bringing welcome rain to the shores of the Middle Sea. As the winds died to normal breezes, the Justice ceased its wild rolling. The damaged section of the hull stopped taking in water. Though the waves were still high, the ship could now handle them.

  The storm was broken, and so was she. As her knees folded under her, she said in a raw whisper, "You said I would have my freedom if I saved the whole crew. Remember that, my demon captain."

  She was unconscious before she hit the deck.

  Far to the north, Duncan Macrae shot up in his bed, his temples blazing with pain. "Dear God in heaven!" he gasped.

  His wife woke instantly and took his hand. "What's wrong?"

  "Wait." He concentrated on the energy that was being pulled from him. The drain lasted only a few minutes, then faded away. "Jean tapped into me," he said as the pain disappeared. "I think she's discovered that she has some of the Macrae weather ability, because she needed help rather badly."

  "Did a storm hit Marseilles? Or was she trying to end a drought?"

  "It was a storm, a very bad one, but not in Marseilles." He leaned back into the pillows and put his arm around his wife. "I think she was at sea. Perhaps she decided to come home early."

  "Then we will see her all the sooner," Gwynne said comfortably.

  Duncan didn't reply. He was no seer who could read the future, but he had a strong sense that his little sister was not having a normal journey home.

  Chapter

  FOURTEEN

  A part-time husband was better than none, but Adia missed Daniel desperately during their months of separation. It was harder to have a family, too. Miss Sophie, who lived with her husband, managed to produce three children in the years that it took Adia to have only one. One blessed daughter, Mary Monifa—one name Christian, one name African—and called Molly.

  With the aid of an old, infirm Watson slave, Adia was able to keep her baby with her in Charleston. Miss Sophie was tolerant of the times this made Adia a little late, as long as it didn't happen often. But the situation gave Adia another wish. She wanted not only freedom, but to be able to live free with her family.

  Someday, Grandmother whispered. Someday.

  In the meantime, she and Daniel shared what precious hours they had.

  A revolt is blood, fear, and violence. It is also opportunity. When the colonies rebelled against the British masters in 1776, they were much stronger than the slaves who had revolted in Jamaica. Adia read newspapers avidly when she could, trying to make sense of the matter. It appeared that the colonists wanted liberty, though only for themselves, of course. John Watson, head of the Watson family, despised the rebellion because it would be bad for business.

  That is, he hated it until the British offered to free any slave who fought for the British. That pushed Watson to join the rebels. How could he run his plantation with the British threatening his labor? He chose to support the rebels so colonial life could return to normal.

  News of the British offer to free slaves who joined them spread through the black community like wildfire. Familiar faces vanished from Charleston. The Watsons lost their coachman and two of the young footmen. One of the footmen was recaptured, whipped, and sent to the plantation to become a field hand.

  With a battle being fought over Charleston, the Watson women and children and house slaves were sent to the safety of Magnolia Manor. Sophie's husband, Joseph, stayed in the country to protect the family while his father returned to the city to look out for the Watson business interests.

  When they reached the plantation, Adia had to spend the rest of the day unpacking and settling Miss Sophie and her children. It was near midnight when she was finally free to find Daniel. Half mad with yearning, she rushed outside toward the slave quarters.

  He was waiting for her outside the big house. She gasped when his great dark figure loomed out of the shadows, then fell into his arms. "Sweet wife," he breathed. "Beloved."

  They kissed frantically, trying to melt their bodies into each other. As he laid her down in the privacy of the bushes, she thought dizzily that this was the only good part of their long separations: when they came together again, the pleasure was shattering.

  After, they lay in each other's arms, silvered by moonlight. "I had to wait until I saw you again," he said huskily.

  She stiffened, knowing what this meant. "You're going to run to the British?"

  He nodded. "It's our chance, honey child. The British will win, and we'll be free."

  "Or dead." She started to sit up. "I'll get Molly. We should leave immediately."

  "No." He sat up also, drawing her into his embrace. "I must go alone. I will send for you when I can." He laughed softly. "I wondered why you said I must learn to read and write, but now I can send you a letter."

  "And if you go and I never hear from you?" she said, tears running down her face.

  "That will mean I am dead, honey child." He traced the lines of her face, as if trying to memorize them. "When I have a safe place for my family, I will send for you. And if I die, my spirit will watch over you and Molly."

  She caught his hand, weeping, but she would not ask him to stay because he was right: this was a chance for them to be free, and he could travel more swiftly if he was alone. Grandmother, will I see my husband again?

  Yes, child. Have faith.

  "Be careful." She thought. "Stay another day. I will make you a protection charm and a pathfinder stone, and you will have a chance to see Molly. One day will not matter."

  He hesitated, then nodded. "Your magic will help, and I want to see our baby girl again. If...the worst happens, maybe she is old enough now to remember me."

  "I will tell her what a strong, brave man her father was, and how much he loved her." She leaned into a kiss, and then they were making love again. Delay meant not only giving him magic and Molly, but one last chance to share flesh and spirit. She had yearned for his touch and scent for months, and now he would be gone in another day.

  The protection charm she made herself. The small, painted pathfinder stone came from a wise woman who lived on the neighboring plantation, and the paint used to mark symbols on the pale surface was colored with Daniel's blood. When Daniel was ready for Adia and Molly to join him, he could send her the stone, and it would guide her to him.

  As she instructed him on how to use the stone, she refused to believe they would never be together again.

  After three days of freedom, Daniel was captured and brought back to Magnolia Manor. The overseer tied him between two trees and flayed the skin from his back.

  But perhaps Adia's protection charm worked, because he didn't die. With salves and prayers to Grandmother, plus the skilled nursing of the plantation wise woman, he recovered with surprising speed, though his back was ridged with scars. Adia didn't realize how much she'd loved the feel of his smooth, taut skin beneath her palms until it was gone. But the rough scars were potent in other ways, reminding her always of her husband's courage.

 
As soon as Daniel had recovered enough, he ran again. This time, he was not recaptured. Adia worked quietly and looked obedient. When questioned about Daniel by the overseer, she said bitterly that she'd begged her man not to run away, damn him. It was so easy to lie to the masters.

  A month later, she received a message written on a small, tattered scrap of paper. "I safe, luv you and baby. D." She gave thanks that she'd taught Daniel to write, and that the secret network of slaves passed such messages on.

  There were occasional messages, but two years passed before she received the small, painted pathfinder stone. It was wrapped in a ragged piece of cloth on which Daniel had written, "Follow north. Luv. Daniel Adams."

  The pathfinder stone had been quiet when she gave it to Daniel, but he had been carrying it for two years, and before sending the stone he had activated it with his prayers for her presence. Now it glowed with power. She held it in her palm and tried walking in different directions. The stone warmed when she headed north. If she headed that way, she would find Daniel. She liked the idea of having a family name. She'd ask Daniel why he chose Adams when they were together again.

  She consulted the wise woman and an old sugar mill man who knew some magic, and with their help she created pouches to be hung around the necks of herself and her daughter. The charms would make people less likely to notice them on their journey. Adia had used a similar magic to keep herself from being bothered by unwelcome male attention, but this was stronger because the wise woman had greater power than Adia. She made a couple of extra charms, just in case they might prove useful. The pathfinder stone went into her pouch, which was made of thin cotton so she could feel the warmth against her breast.

  She had few other preparations. A small bag that could be slung over her back contained a few garments and food. She concealed a small, sharp knife in her waistband. Everything else she left with the wise woman, to be given out after she was gone, assuming she was not recaptured. Adia owned some fine clothing, given to her by Miss Sophie. It would be appreciated by others. She also had a little money that she'd received from guests when she'd performed special services. Using it to run away pleased her.

  She chose a moonless night to leave. Mr. Watson was in Charleston for a few days, which meant slow pursuit. Before she left her small, hot attic room, she spent a few minutes communing with her grandmother. Protect us, Grandmother. Let me live to hold my husband again. There were no words in reply, but she felt encouraging warmth.

  She headed down the stairs, thinking it was strange that if she was lucky, she would never see this place or these people again. With a twist of her heart, she accepted that she would never see Miss Sophie's children. When she reached the second floor, she impulsively turned right to go to the nursery rather than continuing down the servant stairs.

  A lantern turned low burned in the nursery since young Amy was afraid of the dark. She and her big brother would soon be given separate rooms for propriety's sake, but for now, they enjoyed being together. The middle child, Henry, had died of a fever. Adia had held Miss Sophie in her arms as her mistress wept for the loss. There had been no white or black then, only two women mourning.

  Amy was curled around her battered rag doll, the fabric worn from being taken everywhere. Adia was tempted to touch the soft childish curve of cheek, but dared not risk waking the girl. Young Joseph was sprawled across his bed, looking ready to run at any minute. Lord, she would miss them—they were almost as much her children as Molly was. She hoped they would grow up in a better world, one where there was no more slavery, but that was unlikely.

  After saying her silent good-bye, she left the nursery. Defiantly, she headed to the great sweeping staircase that was used only by the family, never the slaves, who had to use the hidden servant steps. She rested one hand on the mahogany railing, lifted her skirt with the other hand, and prepared to descend grandly to the first floor.

  She was just starting when a hand touched her arm. "Addie?"

  Adia swung around, instinctively pulling her knife as she damned herself for stopping by the nursery. She would have been out of the house by now if she hadn't. But she would not be stopped now, not by anyone.

  In the moonlight, she saw Miss Sophie, aghast as she stared at the knife. "Addie?" she said again, her voice quavering. Her gaze darted to the bag slung over Adia's shoulder. "You are running away!"

  "I am." Adia held the knife ready while she wondered frantically what to do. She might kill a stranger or anyone threatening Daniel or Molly, but could she kill Miss Sophie?

  Her mistress stared at the knife. "Would you murder me, Addie?"

  Adia lowered the knife a little, thinking how Miss Sophie had taught her to read, about the moments of honesty that they had shared despite being mistress and slave. "I could not do that. But I can and will bind and gag you if I must." If that happened, her chances of successful escape were slim. But she could not change her mind about running, not now. She yearned to breathe the air as a free woman almost as much as she yearned for Daniel's arms.

  "Why?" Miss Sophie breathed, less tense as she stopped fearing for her life. "Have I not treated you well? I thought we were friends, Addie."

  "You have been a good mistress, Miss Sophie. I am grateful for that." Adia lowered the knife, but did not return it to its sheath. "But slave and master can never be friends. You cannot understand, not truly. How would you feel if forced to work and threatened with whipping or death if you refuse? What if you knew that any white man might rape you at any time? What if you had only a few precious hours a week with your children? Have you thought about such things, Miss Sophie?"

  "No, I haven't." The other woman became very still. "You are going to Daniel?"

  "Yes. We will be a family again, or I shall die in the attempt." Urged by a feeling from Grandmother, Adia said, "If you promise not to tell anyone that I have left until well into tomorrow, I will not bind you. Will you give me your word?"

  Miss Sophie hesitated, then gave a nod. Perhaps she realized that after tonight, things could never be the same between them. "I promise not to raise the alarm. May God protect you and your family, Addie."

  "Thank you." She sheathed her knife. "And my name is Adia." She turned and silently descended the steps.

  On the way to the slave quarters, Adia suddenly wondered how much she would have earned if she had been paid for her labor all these years. It would be a fair amount of money. Certainly enough to buy a mule. She took a detour to catch and saddle the placid mule, Daisy, that she sometimes rode. Once more her desire to learn was proving useful.

  She hung a don't-notice charm around the mule's neck. Then she collected her sleepy daughter, hugged the wise woman, and started her long journey to freedom.

  Miss Sophie must have kept her word, for there was no swift pursuit. Though the trip to Daniel was long and tiring, no one paid dangerous attention to the runaways. Adia's charms seemed to be getting more effective. Now that she was free, perhaps she could find a teacher of magical ways.

  Every day the pathfinder stone grew warmer. They traveled the back roads as they made their slow journey north. They asked only black folk for directions. From the Carolinas to Virginia, across Maryland, into New Jersey. She had never dreamed that Daniel had gone so far.

  After weeks of traveling, they reached the Hudson River and were able to look across the water to the great city of New York. They hid in the reeds all day, and crossed the river that night in a moored rowboat that Adia found and cut loose. The faithful mule swam behind them while Adia clumsily learned how to row, fighting the current. Stay with us, Grandmother!

  They reached the island of Manhattan as the sun was rising. A Black Pioneer who was cutting firewood for the British Army pointed them toward the military encampment. The pathfinder stone seemed likely to burn Adia's skin as she guided the mule into the sprawling camp. Molly rode on the soaked saddle, tired but excited. A whole section was occupied by black soldiers. Adia halted her mule, weary to the bone and wondering what to
do next.

  Then a bass whoop sounded over the encampment and she saw a familiar, powerful figure running toward her. Her Daniel was a sergeant, she saw. And his face blazed with the same happiness that threatened to burst from her. As she slid into his arms and he hugged her and Molly, she said with a shaking voice, "Never again will we be separated."

  "Never again," he said, weeping, his arms threatening to crack her ribs. "Never again."

  Chapter

  FIFTEEN

  The Scottish witch fell to the deck. Though Nikolai's wrist bore bleeding wounds from her nails, she looked fragile as a child.

  Yet she had succeeded. The wind had dropped to almost nothing, and his battered ship rode the waves in peace.

  He reached down, and almost fell over. He was weak to the bone, barely able to stand upright. Bracing himself on the door frame, he managed to kneel. When he fumbled for a pulse in her throat, he couldn't find one.

  "Captain, what happened?"

  He looked up to see Tano, drenched and battered but intact. Tano acted as ship's surgeon when necessary, and he had an uncanny knack for appearing when needed. He also understood about magic since he had some himself. "This female is a weather mage," Nikolai said gruffly. "She saved the ship, but she may have killed herself in the process. Can you do anything?"

  Tano frowned as he knelt beside the unconscious girl. After checking her pulse, his frown deepened. He pulled out his knife and held the blade in front of her mouth. A small film of condensation formed. "She's alive, but barely. A great work of magic drains body and soul. She has consumed herself like a candle." Tano glanced up. "You don't look well, either, Captain. Were you helping her?"

  Nikolai nodded. Even that effort seemed too much. "She said she didn't have much power and would need some of mine. While fighting the storm, she entered my mind and...drew out my soul."