Old Magic(72)

‘I’m all right, don’t struggle. I won’t let it get to you.’

‘It might want me, but it doesn’t mind killing you in the process. You have to do something!’

‘What, for goodness’ sake?’

‘Use your gift!’

‘I don’t know how!’

Panic is not going to help. I jerk my arm and shoulder trying to dislodge the thing off my back, the hole in my neck now spurting out blood. The crow lifts momentarily, giving me a much needed second to breathe, but then it dives, catches me under my shoulder and in one powerful thrust, knocks me to the ground.

In my heart I realise that I’ve lost this battle. That I’ve lost Kate. The massive crow takes my place over Kate. I throw my body’s weight at it, trying to wrench it off, but nothing works. It’s like the bird is made of steel and I am made of feathers. Kate screams, and the sound resounds in my skull like the echo of a thousand chimes clanging together. The wind increases, becomes cyclonic. Hissing, it works against me, pushing me back. I have to fight through it to get to them. The crow’s wings spread wide and embrace Kate, covering her. Like steel braces, the crow’s wings close completely around Kate’s body and lift her. The crow hovers for just a second over the bed, its black eyes locking with mine, gloating. Then it moves in a graceful motion, through a north-facing window, Kate tucked neatly within its wings.

Although it should be too awkward and cumbersome, the crow flies like this, with Kate trapped inside its incredible wings. I race to the window, reaching out to the escaping bird, lunging until I half fall out. For a second I have her feet, but they slip through my fingers. Kate’s screams recede as the crow flies in the direction of Blacklands.

My head falls back, a feeling of utter despair pulses through me. The door smashes open. Richard with Isabel, the young maid, Morgana, Malcolm, Thomas and Emmeline, burst through all in stages of undress, demanding to know what is going on. They heard Kate’s screams, tried to climb the tower’s spiral staircase, but hundreds of bats attacked them on the way, stalling them, Isabel explains.

It’s Rhauk’s magic, I realise. ‘He took Kate – Katherine,’ I finally breathe, dropping to the bed, depleted. There is so much blood smeared over my back, neck and chest, it’s difficult to tell from where exactly it is coming.

‘How could this happen?’ Isabel cries. ‘We doubled the watch tonight, with extra guards posted around the bailey.’

Weak with loss of blood, I sway towards the floor, grab the bedpost and lean my head against it. ‘He was the crow.’

‘Then it is true,’ Richard hisses, crossing himself, his eyes shifting in the direction of Blacklands, looking dazed. ‘For many years we knew of his evil and trickery.’ His focus comes back to me. ‘That night he kidnapped your mother, Lionel said it was a crow. Black, with Rhauk’s eyes. None of us believed him, just thought Lionel had temporarily lost his wits.’ He shakes his head wearily. ‘What sort of brother am I? I should have given my body and soul to protect them. And now my nephew follows the same fate.’

I shake my head at the man, unable to share his pain of guilt. My own thoughts are with Kate. Her fate, at the hands of a dangerous madman.

Morgana comes to me with a bowl of water and bits of rag. She takes a piece, dips it in the water and attempts to wipe away some of the blood. I brush her away, unable to deal with anything other than the pain she can’t get to. Inside. ‘How can I think of myself when Katherine is with Rhauk right now?’

‘You have to let us treat your wounds, Jarrod,’ some soothing female voice croons. Emmeline’s I realise. ‘Morgana knows what to do. She’s the best healer in the highlands. And you can’t tackle Rhauk if you bleed to death first. What good would you be to Katherine then? You’ll need all your strength to rescue her.’

The girl is right, even though her voice sounds really false. I suddenly recall the force of that wind. It’s gone now, so I concentrate, just like Kate said. It starts, slowly at first, but enough for me to finally understand – the wind is mine!

Some internal strength I can’t as yet pinpoint has created it.

I focus even more intently. In seconds the wind gathers in magnitude until it ravages the room with the force of a hurricane. Nothing remains of the bedding, tapestries rip to shreds, Morgana’s slight body flies across the room, bowls and ornaments thrash about. I really do have a gift! This recognition is unbelievable, strengthening my concentration; and the wind increases amazingly more.

‘What’s happening!’ Richard cries, grasping a bedpost tightly to stop from being tossed around the room like the others.