Dead Magic (28 page)

Confused, Dorian refocused on the room.

Someone was bending time.

A time-bend was nothing new for the Witch-Born. But bending time was specific to the person. Everything slowed down for the individual, not for the whole world or even a whole room. This was bizarre and frightening.

He looked to Elsie, who stayed motionless in her chair. Her eyes were still blue, still focused, but he could read in them a question meant only for him. A second later, as though confirming his own thoughts, he heard Magic's voice in his core.

Are you ready, Saldorian?

If he could have, he might have smiled, but in his frozen state he couldn't even move his mouth to do that. Magic was bending time. He really should have suspected as much.

Time released and Dorian quickly moved to evade his stepmother's second attack. Spinning on the ball of his foot, he rolled around Minne's outstretched arm, coming into position just behind her. She swung again, turning with her attack, but Rorant beat her to it. Suddenly his father was there, grabbing Minne's arm and yanking it about until he'd craned it at an awkward angle against her back.

Minne shouted in pain. Dorian felt her start to draw on her Talent. He tried to prepare himself for whatever spell she might cast in her effort to get away, but then, just as suddenly as she'd started to gather her power, it left her. Yellow light burst from her center, snapping across the room until it settled into Elsie's Remora stone. A moment later, two similar lights were yanked from Loreena and Alois, both of them fusing with the glowing green stone.

"No!" Minne shouted. "What have you done?"

Dorian stepped back from his stepmother and cringed. Pain spiked through his partially healed wound and he held his side in an effort to keep balance. The room spun in his vision but he caught the basics of the battle. Winslow had subdued Loreena, who was face down on the stone floor and looking dazed. Victor had managed to pierce Alois with a Remora stone dagger, which put the man out of the fight as well.

Valeda Quinlan knelt beside Elsie, but looked too frightened to touch her. Not that Dorian could blame Valeda. Elsie still had that fixed blue gaze and Dorian could sense that his wife was not really present in these proceedings.

"I have no heir!" Minne wailed and struggled against Rorant's grasp. "Think of my people!"

Dorian looked down at the stone in Elsie's hands. Remora stones were always green, but this one was lit from the inside. The combined Talents of three Witches lay trapped inside and Dorian couldn't suppress a shudder. Every Witch-Born feared the day their Talents might leave them. And Magic had very quickly, without preamble, taken back the blessing he had given those three.

"Magic!" Minne said, addressing Elsie. "I know you can hear me, my Lord! You must know that I did it for you. It was all for you, my Lord. To free you from her."

Elsie did not look at her. Instead, she very slowly handed the glowing stone to Valeda, who took it with quiet reverence. Dorian watched as Elsie smiled compassionately at Valeda and touched her cheek as a mother might a child. The voice that spoke through his wife was not her own, but that of Magic, reverberating through his core.

"I am where I must be."

"What?" Minne gasped. "No, that can't be true. I can free you! Don't you all see? I can free him!"

The tattoos in Elsie's arm faded. She blinked once and her golden eyes were back, no longer the blue of Magic. Dorian felt a surge of relief and limped to her side. Elsie smiled up at him, exhaustion lining her features.

***

Elsie slumped against Dorian in the private carriage and sighed. Valeda and Winslow sat across from them, looking every bit as exhausted as she felt.
But then,
she thought as the carriage lurched forward,
my exhaustion is unnatural
. This was more than the feeling of too many hours at practice. Her arm felt numb, heavy and dead, and were she not cradling it in her lap, she thought it might slip right off her body.

She'd been aware of the goings on in that little room under the fortress, but she had also been distant from it. The moment Alois had kicked Dorian in the gut, she'd been yanked from her very consciousness and shoved into a corner in her mind. Magic could take her form, could use her body in any way he pleased. As humbling as this revelation was, Elsie couldn't help wondering why he hadn't done it before.

Surely the people would listen to him more than they listened to her.

Brasen has never been put back,
she thought.
Magic had become Brasen.
Why would Magic remain in him, but only half participate in me? Is it a gender issue? Or had the Dellidus taken so much power that Magic was now unable to come and go as he pleased?
It had taken quite a bit of focus to work around that stone and at first Elsie had only found the faintest pinprick of power. But the moment she accessed it, Magic had burst through.

She hid a yawn behind her hand. Her whole body ached as though she'd been hefting forty pound rocks all day. Her head felt heavy and her mind muddled. Closing her eyes, she let the jostle of the carriage lull her.

Elsie dreamt of the day she'd buried her sister. On an edifice high up in the mountains, far removed from anyone or anything that might disturb her, she had said her final goodbyes. Her heart still ached at the loss.

In the middle of her mourning, Magic had come. All of her being held still in his presence. She could still see him, smiling down at her, his golden tattoos crinkling up with his compassion. He'd spoken then of Fate, of the mysteries that surrounded Bryva's death and the life of Delgora House. But now, in her vision, she heard him say something else to her.

"If I were to speak through you again it might kill you, Elsie Delgora. Can you not feel your strength abandoning you?"

She
could
feel it, seeping out of her bones and into the ether. For a moment she panicked, thinking of the ark and all the people who depended on her. She had to be stronger than this. She had to fight. But try as she might, she could not get her eyes to open. The dream faded and she drifted off, trusting that the crisis had passed and that Magic would somehow wake her if she was needed.

The stone fit easily in the palm of her hand. Its smooth contours and jagged edges had a sort of chaotic beauty, as though its symmetry could not have formed any other way. It was an echo not only of the Talents now captive inside, but of the constant battle held back by the Warding Pillars. Valeda imagined she could almost hear the growl of the Wild rumbling through the stone, underplayed by deep drums that beat harder and faster until her heart clamored to keep its pace.

War is coming
, it told her as she stared at it.

She stood sequestered in a small alcove to the side of the stage. Valeda knew instinctively how to regulate her temperature now. Otherwise she imagined she'd be frozen stiff. Due to the danger of the moment, she'd chosen to wear the riding pants and bodice Elsie had given to her in Delgora. They fit perfectly, but were made of a lighter material better suited to the tropics. She wore a jacket and gloves for appearances, though she had a feeling the rest of Magnellum was about to learn of her newfound Talent.

The opening ceremonies of Winter Tournament were about to begin and Elsie was somewhere in the crowd, prepared to interrupt the revelry. It seemed senseless to Valeda that they were trying this. The people had already been warned about the coming disaster. They hadn't listened then and they likely wouldn't listen now. In fact, if things turned violent, Valeda had strict instructions to run hard and fast for their awaiting dirigible. Winslow was supposed to watch out for her, which gave her some comfort. He hadn't left her side since she'd discovered Monty in her room two days ago.

Could it have been only two days since poor Monty's death?

So much had happened that it felt strange thinking of him now. Rescuing Elsie and Dorian was a hullaballoo she doubted she'd ever forget, and then the arrest of Minne, Loreena and Alois. Winslow had spared her from having to sit through the Council's emergency meeting, but she knew the trio were now sitting, Talentless, in a Warder's holding cell.

The Talentless part of their conundrum was what puzzled Valeda the most. It felt important, almost strategic. Magic had wanted all of them in the same room, had wanted Elsie so focused that he could work on drawing out those three. Which made her wonder why her Talent hadn't been taken. Or Winslow's for that matter. She liked that it had been the antagonists of the encounter who were targeted, but she couldn't help wondering what it was all for.

Something bigger was at play here; she could feel it.

She rubbed a smooth expanse on the stone with her thumb and watched the light within react to her. She could feel the Wild in her stirring. It was equal parts attracted and repulsed by the stone, like watching a fire rage through a forest, seeing both the tragedy and the beauty of the flames. Her Talent, which she assumed she should not be able to sense while holding the Remora stone, had the same feeling about it.

"What are you?" she whispered to it. "And why did Magic give you to me?"

Winslow shifted in the shadows beside her. Valeda blushed. She'd forgotten how close he was.

"I imagine you're concerned for my mental state now," she said with a sheepish laugh. "Talking to stones and such."

"I've always been concerned about you," he said. "Though I admit, talking to a stone does seem slightly more alarming than your other quirks. Let me know if it talks back."

"Other quirks?" Valeda asked, returning the stone to her pocket. "Just how many quirks do I have?"

"Oh, you have several," Winslow said. He moved to the entrance of the alcove and looked out.

Two young lords had taken center stage and the crowd roared to life. They hoisted a large trophy, identifying themselves as last year's tournament winners. Valeda felt her pulse quicken. Any moment now, Elsie would make her move.

"You're far too independent," Winslow said conversationally. "And headstrong. You hold your breath when you're angry. And you hum to yourself when you're reading, but not while you're writing."

"I do not hold my breath when I'm angry!"

"You don't?"

"No, I most certainly do not."

"You're quite certain?"

"Absolutely!"

He hummed and shrugged before looking back to the stage. Valeda glared at him. The nerve of the man to make such a summary of her! What did he mean she was "far too independent"? She was proud of her independence.

"Breathe, Vee," he said, with a chuckle.

Valeda inhaled sharply. She felt her cheeks burn and she stammered for some kind of rebuttal. He was teasing her. They were about to anger the whole of Magnellum society and the arrogant man was teasing her.

"You're also the bravest creature I've ever seen," he said.

"This is no time for teasing, Lord Agoston."

"Call me Winslow," he said and grinned at her. "And I meant every word."

"You're incorrigible."

"So they all say."

Valeda crossed her arms and turned to watch the stage. She felt exposed by his words, and foolishly good. But she knew him well enough now to know that his mood was about to change.
This is his pattern,
she reminded herself.
He shows affection and then he shoves you away.
The sooner this business is done, the sooner she could get away from him.

Out in the courtyard, Elsie and Dorian stepped onto the stage. The crowd went quiet. No one seemed to move, not even to whisper their appall. Valeda bit her lower lip and prayed the Fates would be merciful. Upsetting the Untalented was bad, but prodding the fury of the Witch-Born Council as they were could result in a swift execution for all parties involved.

And she was inextricably involved now.

The thought made her queasy and Valeda scanned the crowd, identifying the nobility. Magnellum had thirteen Houses, each with a House Witch. As powerful as Elsie and Dorian might be, twelve against one were still bad odds.
Well,
Valeda thought,
eleven against one
. Caresse and Bartholomew Feverrette were already on the dirigible, keeping it ready for their departure.

She spotted Morgana Agoston at the front of the crowd and shuddered. This was going to end badly, she could just feel it.

"People of Magnellum," Elsie shouted above the rustle of feet on snow. "Eight years ago Fate gave us a warning. Fate told us that the time would come when the Pillars would fall."

Valeda felt a surge of pride at how confident Elsie sounded. No matter the odds, Elsie Delgora was going to do as she believed was right. The woman was uncompromising and unabashedly herself. There wasn't another witch in all of Magnellum who could deny her that.

"You've all heard the rumors," Elsie said. "Some of you have even had to evacuate your homes due to the crumbling Pillars. You know that it has already started."

Several of the Witches began to protest, but Elsie overrode them all by removing her glove and lifting her tattooed arm.

"Magic is dead!" she proclaimed.

The Untalented in the crowd rose up at this, silencing the Witch-Born and demanding to know more. The entire courtyard teemed with urgent voices, alarmed families trying to locate each other and a great many Witch-Born simmering in anger. Elsie ignored them all and plunged through her speech.

"The Pillars are falling! One by one they are crumbling. The Wild is coming and we must stand united to face it."

"How?" several voices rang out.

"In Delgora there is an ark. It will keep some of you safe. I beg of you, send your children and your women to safety. Do not delay! The enemy is approaching . . ." Elsie said.

"The enemy has been hammering at the Pillars for years!" Morgana Agoston said and climbed the stairs onto the platform. "Ignore Lady Delgora. She has gone mad."

Whatever else might have meant to follow Morgana's statement was lost. A massive vine shot up from the ground, hurling rocks and dirt through the air. It bent and swiped at the screaming crowd, scattering bodies in its wake. Valeda stepped forward, too stunned to recognize fully what she was seeing.