Dead Magic (29 page)

Five great cats leapt out of the crater in the ground and began to attack. They were striped orange and white, just as magnificent as Winslow had described to her, and just as deadly. Valeda watched as one cat tackled onto the back of a retreating man, its jaws clamped tightly on the juncture of neck and shoulder. It released the man, lifting its blood-stained maw to snarl at the fleeing crowd.

Valeda felt her stomach pitch at the sight.

Winslow grabbed her shoulder and drew her back into the alcove.

"Stay here," he ordered.

"What?"

He turned and ran into the fray, propelling himself forward with his magic to intercept one of the cats. Valeda held onto the alcove wall and watched as Winslow snagged the creature by the tail and swung hard, spinning until its feet lost purchase with the ground. Then he released, sending the cat soaring into the fortress wall several feet away. Valeda felt the shudder through stone as it crashed into the wall.

The cat slumped down, dazed, and struggled to return to its feet. It looked helpless and defeated, but Winslow was suddenly at its side, leveling his pistol at its face. Her heart ached at the sight and she had to look away before he pulled the trigger. The Wild in her lamented the creature's death in spite of the terror in the yard.
Something so beautiful deserves better,
she thought.

At the center of the yard she saw the vine curl itself around the obsidian and gold fountain of the Fates. It ripped the fountain out of the ground, spewing rock and water over those few Untalented still trying to escape. Then it raised the statue high, the three-faced depiction of Fate glinting in the moonlight just before the vine threw it at the stage. Several of the Witch-Born had rallied at the base of the stage, trying to protect the Untalented in their flight. They all scattered, desperate to get out of the way.

"
Susbeni!
" Elsie shouted.

She was still on the stage and had one arm lifted, all of her focus riveted on the falling statue. The fountain stopped, water and rock suspended in the air. For a breathless moment, those beneath the wreckage stared, and then they all scrambled to get out of the way. Elsie fell to her knees under the strain, holding the mass of fountain aloft until she was certain everyone was safe.

The vine had other plans. It whipped across the stage, striking Elsie in the chest and breaking the spell. Dorian, engaged in a fight of his own with one of the cats, shouted something that was lost in the crash. Valeda gasped as Elsie went flying off the stage. She hit the ground several feet away and rolled to a stop near the alcove. Valeda ran to her, sliding to her knees beside the Lady's prone form. Elsie coughed and wheezed as Valeda searched for something she could do to help.

"My Lady!" Valeda said.

Elsie rolled to her side and smiled weakly up at her. "Miss . . . Quinlan."

Valeda looked up at the battle. She needed a male Witch-Born to heal Elsie. Several witches had gathered together and were fighting the vine, each of them chanting and throwing different spells at it. Valeda couldn't recognize any of them, but she could see the effects of fire and ice as they hit the vine in turn. The men were all focused on the cats, most of them too far away to hear her call for help.

"You will need to be brave now, Valeda."

She looked back down at Elsie, frustrated at how helpless she was. But Elsie was not looking at her. Instead, she stared gravely at a point just behind her. Valeda felt the hairs on her neck stand on end. Very slowly, she turned to look.

Another cat stood there, malevolently gazing at them both. It was enormous, its paws twice the size of Winslow's hands. It had one green eye and one blue eye and the fur that should have been white was stained pink from battle. Its ears flattened and it made a sharp, terrible sound that nearly made Valeda's heart stop.

She heard a distinctive click just beside her. Elsie had drawn her pistol. Weak as she was, the woman aimed her weapon at the creature.

"Run now," Elsie said and fired.

The crack of the gun partially deafened Valeda, but she still heard the cat cry out in pain. Or maybe she felt it because the Wild in her seemed to cry out too. But it was the magic in her that got her to her feet. Valeda hoisted Elsie up and flung the taller woman onto her shoulder. Her Talent made lugging the woman easy and she ran for the alcove.

They had almost made it when Elsie was suddenly whipped away. Valeda fell backward with the force, landing half on top of Elsie. A heavy paw struck her shoulder, sharp claws piercing through layers of jacket and skin. Valeda grabbed the paw and shouted in agony. Then its mouth clamped onto her shoulder and it started to shake her, yanking her off Elsie.

Valeda tried to dislodge its grip, but it only shook harder. She tried to get leverage with her feet, but the cat kept dragging her back, pulling her away from Elsie and the alcove. Her head struck the ground several times before she quit struggling. The last thing she saw before darkness took her was Winslow running at them. He didn't look frightened or angry, just determined.

***

He ran harder and faster than he'd ever run before. His legs strained and his lungs burned, but he pushed his magic to keep going. He'd been so embroiled in battle that he hadn't noticed Valeda leave the alcove. His Talent had told him of her pain, alerting him to the danger and he'd immediately begun searching for her. What he'd found was a great cat lugging her toward the crater.

He wondered why the cat hadn't killed her already.

They'd just reached the lip of the crater when Winslow caught up. He shouted and threw himself onto the cat, tackling it with all the force of his magic to help. The creature lost its footing and slammed into the ground. Winslow kept hold of it as they slid over ragged stone and overturned dirt. His knee bashed into something sharp and he felt his toes go suddenly numb.

It released Valeda as they came to a stop and immediately lunged for him. Winslow jerked away from its teeth, then had to dodge a paw as it swung at him. He swiveled around the paw and launched himself for its neck. He got his left arm around its throat and threw his leg over its massive back, determined to choke the life out of it.

The beast bucked and shook, but Winslow just held tighter. He felt it struggle to breathe, felt it try to pull its head out of the lock and for a crazy second considered biting it. Then he saw another cat emerge from the hole. It went straight to Valeda, bit her by the ankle and headed back for the crater.

Winslow couldn't release the cat and he couldn't just watch her get taken.

Above him, the vine groaned under pressure. The witches had managed to subdue it and the giant thing was about to fall. He saw it teetering and knew instinctively which way it would collapse. Valeda's head disappeared into the crater. Winslow let go of the cat and ran for her. He didn't know how many more would be in there but he couldn't leave her.

She was brave and intelligent and irrational and, Fates help him, he needed her.

He leapt into the crater just as the vine fell over it. Stone and dirt pushed him down. For a dizzy moment he didn't know which direction was up. Then something grabbed him by the leg and wrenched him out of the debris. Before he could regain his equilibrium, he was pushed flat against rocky ground with something heavy and sharp pressing into his chest.

He tried to call on his Talent to give him clearer vision in the dark, but it wouldn't respond.

Remora stones,
he realized. He was lying on top of dozens of Remora stones.

"We must go back!" a heavily accented voice called through the shadows. "Octamin was almost to safety."

"We can't go back." This voice was closer, practically on top of him, and distinctly older. "The vine has fallen. There is no returning. The witches will have the wards up soon and we must leave."

"But Octamin-"

"Was a brave soldier. He brought the abominations to us. Now we must do our part."

Two,
Winslow decided. There were only two of them. But without his magic he couldn't hope to fight even one of them. Octamin must have been the cat he'd been fighting. The rest of their party was cut off in Magnellum, now at the mercy of the Witch-Born. He almost felt sorry for them, but his mind caught up with the conversation.

"The abominations" had to be a reference to Valeda and himself.

Winslow chose not to struggle as their captors began dragging them away. He felt every stone scratch into his back, felt the sharp clamp of teeth on his shoulder, but let it happen. They were needed for something. He didn't know what and he didn't care. All he knew was that he had a little time left and only one option at his disposal.

He had to connect with his Wild. It was the only way he would have the strength to get them both out of this alive. Closing his eyes, he thought back to his school days, to those first few lessons with magic. His Wild was connected to him in much the same way as his Talent, it wasn't a far stretch to believe he could access it the same.

"Relax your mind," he could almost hear Mistress Abigailia coaching him again. "Just breathe and relax. Every Talent is particular to the Witch. It will introduce itself to you with an image. Something that you alone can summon to mind when you need to access magic."

His Talent had always been represented as a loom, which he'd thought was bizarre. But he'd learned to access different elements of his magic by focusing on the different strings, which helped him considerably in combat. He imagined those with more complicated visions of their Talent took a good deal longer to master.

But his Wild would be different. It wouldn't be an object. It would be a creature.

Their captors didn't speak further. They just kept dragging them through the tunnel, so Winslow ignored everything else and concentrated.

An image started to form in his mind; snowy terrain and sharp rocks. On a ledge staring back at him, looking agitated and ready to pounce, was a cat with black-spotted white fur. It was different from the striped cats that had attacked Magnellum, slightly smaller, but just as menacing. All slender curves and lean muscle, the creature paced on its ledge and Winslow had to quell a spurt of fear.

This was the Wild in him. This graceful, deadly beast was what dwelt under his skin. He could feel its anticipation, its desperate desire to be free.

It was not friendly, as his magic had been. His Talent had always welcomed him to use it, to work the strings of that loom until he could move them all without having to think about it. His Wild, on the other hand, dared him to access its power.

What now?
he wondered.

Mistress Abigailia's voice came back to him: "Now you take control."

With a careful breath, Winslow focused on the creature.

Dorian leapt off the stage and ran for Elsie. Behind him his father had mostly subdued one of the remaining great cats, leaving him free to find his wife. He knew she was still alive, he could sense that much, but she was also severely wounded. He could feel it in his chest, a growing, unified ache pulsing through him.

She lay in a tangled mass of cloak face down in the dirt. Dorian slid to a stop beside her, kneeling and gathering her up as quickly as he could. Her head lolled to the side and her limbs were limp in his grasp.

"Elsie Varene Delgora, you do not die here," he said firmly. "Our last moments are in Delgora by the ark. I've seen it. Now wake up."

He tore his gloves off, somehow managing to keep her close without dropping her, and pressed an open palm to her cheek. Their skin met and he felt her Talent flare in response. She'd exhausted herself when she caught the fountain and he was surprised Magic hadn't helped her. He could sense the deity in her, lying in wait, and had to suppress his outrage. Magic could have stopped her from getting hit, could have stopped the whole blasted attack if he'd wanted to. Why in Fates had Magic allowed this to happen?

Elsie groaned and Dorian focused on healing her. The vine had hit her in the right side with enough force to concave several ribs. She was lucky that there was no internal bleeding. Dorian heard each of her ribs snap back into place and grimaced when she cried out. She had a small concussion, several scrapes and bruises, but beyond the ribs he couldn't find anything serious.

Perhaps Magic had helped her after all,
he thought.

"You've seen it, have you?" Elsie asked quietly.

He met her golden gaze and held it. As much as he wanted to deny the vision Magic had shared with him, he couldn't lie to her.

"I've seen where we make our last stand," he said.

"At the ark." Elsie smiled and covered his hand with her own. "Then it will work, won't it?"

Dorian remembered the scene all too clearly. He could still see the way the vines smashed into the ark, bending it and nearly breaking in.
Nearly,
he thought,
but not quite
.

"Something more needs to be done," he said. "I don't know what it is yet, but there's something else we need."

"You did this!" Lady Agoston's shrill voice pierced their conversation.

Dorian helped Elsie sit up and scowled at the woman.

"You did this to us! You let that thing in!" Agoston continued.

The fighting was over and those left standing were tending to the wounded. But they all turned now, focusing on Morgana Agoston's confrontation. Dorian could see some of the Witch-Born agreed with her, but for the most part the people were wary and uncertain. If Morgana was compelling enough, she could turn the remnants of this assembly against them.

"Oh, be quiet," Elsie said and stood up. "I've had it with the lot of you. Destruction beats on your door and you'd still rally for a political move."

Morgana gasped. "How dare you speak to me in such a way!"

"I'd dare a lot more than that if I had the time," Elsie said. Then she faced what few Untalented people were left. "A dirigible waits in the city. In one hour it flies to Delgora. If you want to live, then I suggest you be on it."

Dorian grinned at the stupefied look on Morgana's face. He followed Elsie on her trek to the stage, all too happy to ignore the woman. He wondered where Winslow was. The man wouldn't want to miss this. Dorian searched for his friend, but didn't see Winslow anywhere. He was still looking when Elsie stopped beside Rorant.