Taliesin Ascendant (The Children and the Blood) (17 page)

It was hardest to drag herself out of bed those days. To make herself face this cold, gray, storage-locker of a room with the knowledge she was no closer to stopping the war than she’d been the day prior. Weeks of studying had yielded precious little beyond allusions to other books not in the wizards’ archives. Mentions of Merlin’s possessions, his staff, and all manner of tools he might’ve used to supplement his power only left her fuming for days at the hopelessness of it all, and the plethora of magical techniques she’d learned invariably proved useless toward taking the magic from multiple wizards at once.

And meanwhile, the war ground on.

More cripples had come in the past months, slowly at first and then in increasing numbers. In short order, the wizards had gotten significantly better at working with them, since within two weeks of the first cripples arriving, a Blood wizard had been found. The cripples spotted him on a street on the opposite side of town and, in an act of blatant frustration at years of not being believed, one of them resorted to simply firing a gun at the man.

The Blood panicked and blocked the shot. Everything she and Carter and all the others had said was confirmed in that moment.

She’d wanted to cry when Darius brought her the news, though by then it had become practically habit not to show weakness. And as leader of the council, he’d gone out on a limb enough for her as it was, standing up to the others and insisting they fight the invisible monsters no one believed were real. He didn’t need to see her crumble. Burying the emotions down deep, she’d just nodded as he told her how the Blood wizard died, and then returned to searching for Merlin’s binding spell.

No one stopped by the library the next day, and thus she was spared any comments about her red-rimmed eyes.

Galvanized by their discovery of invisible enemies, the Merlin spread the word swiftly, and more wizards came to join the hunt. Teamed with cripples, they fanned out through the cities to guard hideouts and safe houses against the possibility of Blood attacks.

And everything seemed to finally be turning around.

Yet, with their identities uncovered, the Blood changed their strategy. Within days of the Merlin discovering them, all trace of Blood wizards disappeared from the streets. Driving them underground would have been comforting, if not for the fact that the Merlin learned quickly that they’d been half right all along. The Blood had innumerable supporters lurking in the ranks of Taliesin, and every one of them was only too ready to defend their absent allies.

Dozens of cripples died.

The old woman and her grandson had been among the first, taken out by Taliesin covering a Blood wizard as he ran. But word of their sacrifice brought more cripples to help, and soon after, the number of those coming to fight almost equaled the number Taliesin and the Blood managed to kill.

Though the reality left her aching inside.

She’d stopped going to the loading bay to meet the new arrivals after the first few weeks. Facing them when she knew what they were in for, and how she was stuck here unable to help, was more than she could stand. She wasn’t certain anymore, if Spider or Bus or the others finally showed up, what she’d even say to them. They knew the score, what the obstacles were, but the idea of explaining how she had to stay here, safely ensconced from danger like some medieval princess in a tower, left her nauseated every time the thought crossed her mind.

At first, Darius had pushed her to go down to the dock. They’d made an agreement for her to study, but people still needed to see her. It was her duty to meet with those going into battle. To let the cripples know that even the Queen of Merlin was on their side. She was, to more than just the Merlin now, their symbol of hope for peace.

But in the end, when he saw how it was affecting her, even he left her alone.

In her heart, she knew recreating Merlin’s spell would be useful, despite the fact it left her trapped in a room with books while others fought a war. If the stories were to be believed, as one of the Merlin’s Children, she only needed one of her enemies at hand, and she could bind everyone associated with them, no matter where their allies were hiding. The war would end in a heartbeat. All the Blood and Taliesin would be rendered harmless.

And nobody else would have to die.

With every passing battle, with every new stream of wounded pouring through the door, she was reminded of that fact, till now it had become nearly an obsession. Merlin’s binding spell could be the answer to everything. It was the one thing she could do to truly help everyone.

Provided she could ever learn how it worked.

Drawing a breath, she pushed away from the table and rose to her feet. Scrubbing a hand through her tangled hair, she drove down the urge to torch something out of sheer frustration as she paced the perimeter of the table.

The door opened behind her. “What’s wrong?” Cornelius asked, his tone sharp.

Ashe didn’t turn around. “Nothing. Just taking a break.”

She could feel the displeasure radiating off of him in waves, but she didn’t care.

“Any progress?” he asked in the same tone.

Turning, she gave him a flat look.

Meeting her gaze expressionlessly, he let the door swing shut behind him. “A few refugees came in from Ann Arbor; survivors of a Taliesin attack on the apartment where they’d been staying.” He gave a glance to the book in his hands. “They didn’t have much, but they brought this with them when they fled.”

Eyebrow rising, she crossed to his side and took the book. Swiftly, she flipped it open, scanning the first few pages.

Her hope faded. She closed the book and handed it back to him.

“What?”

“It’s Megilio’s history of the war,” she sighed, walking back to the table and leaning against it. She gestured absently to the racks of shelving behind her. “We already have the photocopies of an earlier edition in one of the binders over there.”

“There could be additions.”

She shook her head and then rubbed her eyes. “Dad discounted most of the historicity of Megilio’s account. The guy got most of the facts about the human world in Merlin’s era jumbled. Said Elizabeth the First had been queen of Scotland, not England, and that Magellan sailed for King Charles of Portugal, not Spain. Dad thought it left everything else he said suspect too, and Prillson’s records from the same century dismiss the man entirely.”

A sour expression crossed his face. “There still might be something–”

“I already checked, Cornelius.”

For a moment, he looked ready to continue pressing the issue, and her expression darkened. Grimacing slightly, he set the book on the file cabinet near the door.

“How are you progressing with the spells you learned from Vanschauser’s books?”

“They’re great for portals. Nothing else. And Elias said Dad had him look into them six years ago.”

“I thought it was a permutation of the spell.”

She shook her head. “Original. The variation was what Dad gave him three years ago.”

“Well, have you compared the two? There might–”

“Cornelius.”

The frown on his face grew deeper and she tried not to scowl. In the past months, she’d done countless hours of comparison between all manner of spells. But he knew that.

“You should get back to work,” he said after a moment.

“How’s it going out there?”

His mouth tightened.

“I’ve hardly left this room for a week, Cornelius,” she persisted. “How’s it going?”

“Fine.”

She could tell he was lying, even through the cold mask he wore.

“Cornelius.”

“It is not your concern. Keep your focus here.” Turning, he started to leave, and then paused with his hand on the handle. “I will have someone bring you lunch in a while.”

Without another word, he disappeared out the door.

Staring after him, she exhaled as she fought the impulse to throw something. Every conversation with the man went that way these days. Short. Sharp. Vaguely accusatory in his implicit reminders of the responsibility she bore.

And how she was failing.

Leaning on her clenched fist, she drew slow breaths as she tried to calm down. It wasn’t just about the spell, she knew. It was about the Blood. For months, he’d been silent on the topic, save for curt answers to direct questions and an increasingly icy silence owing, she supposed, to Carter having been right and him wrong.

At first, she’d understood. His cousin was dead. It hurt. She got that. But now, with every exchange degenerating into single syllable answers that told her nothing, her frustration was steadily overwhelming any compassion she’d had.

Muttering a few of Spider’s favorite curses, she shoved away from the table and began to pace, her temper refusing to fade. She hadn’t been exaggerating to say she hadn’t left here in a week. It was probably more. But for bathroom breaks and the occasional shower, she’d lived in this room for damn near half a year, and the sight of the cold gray walls was starting to drive her insane.

But she couldn’t quit. They were counting on her. Every person dying out there right now was hoping that, before their friends and family had to suffer their same fate, she’d stop failing and uncover the method to recreate the spell to bring the war to an end.

As Cornelius so often reminded her.

She could feel her heart pounding and furious tears stung her eyes. More than anything in the world, she wanted to set the binders on fire, if only to stop them from being there every time she opened her eyes. She needed a new book to study. A new file to research. Anything besides the shelves full of useless scraps of history she knew by heart.

Familiar rage rose at the thought, searing her as it came. Her father had stayed in this room for years. He’d spent every day pouring over these books, and here she was, cracking after only a few months. It was stupid. Weak. Self-indulgent. Childish.

Tears splashed on her hands, and she swore at herself for crying. She wasn’t looking hard enough. There had to be an answer. It was here. Somewhere.

It was never going to be here.

It
would
. She just had to–

Her heart beat faster. She couldn’t breathe.

She had to get out of this room.

Panic thundered through her as she glanced to the door. Cornelius would be out there, though. Or the guards. Or any of the numerous wizards roaming the building, all of whom recognized her by now. And they’d all want to know why she wasn’t in here, pouring over the stupid, pointless stacks of flame-worthy material they’d hoarded like obsessive-compulsive squirrels from hell.

Her gaze darted to the closet and, before she even finished registering the impulse, she was already pouring her magic into making a portal. Blue light raced around the doorframe, charging the air with electricity and dropping the air pressure with ear-popping speed. Darting across the room, she yanked open the door and then ran into the darkness.

She skidded to a stop as her feet hit the dirt floor of the training warehouse. Piles of cinder blocks and charred dummies lay scattered around the massive room. A cool breeze twisted down through the open roof and white tendrils of cloud drifted below the overcast sky. In the doorway behind her, the darkness of the portal faded into gray daylight.

The blessed quiet of the empty outdoors surrounded her. Heart slowing, she walked unsteadily to one of the cinder-block mounds and sank down onto the rough surface. Propping her elbows on her knees, she dropped her head into her hands. Tears soaked past her fingers to splash on her jeans.

It would be so much easier to be out there, fighting. She knew how to do that, at least.

Minutes crept past in the silence and finally her tears slowed. Straightening tiredly, she sniffled as she swiped the moisture from her eyes. Whether or not she could leave here, Spider and the others would’ve joined up with the wizards by now. They’d be thoroughly engaged in taking care of the Blood, Taliesin and everything else she couldn’t do. And they’d know Carter’s dream had finally come true, though for her part, it didn’t mean she’d get to see them again anytime soon.

On some level, though, that had to be enough.

Or so she tried to remind herself.

Running a hand through her hair, she struggled to shove away the old hurt as she glanced around the empty room. She’d never really wondered what going stir-crazy felt like, but her reaction in the library had probably been an example. And the fact that, in the midst of her panic, she’d managed to form a portal was nothing short of incredible. Even on a good day, she wasn’t exceptional at them. Elias’ instruction left nothing to be desired, and she understood the theory of using her magic to link stationary landmarks to guide her along, but the thought of crossing distances by way of magical tunnels through space and time always left her shaking. The fact that even masters like Elias could only reach a distance of about ten miles – and anyone who’d tried to push beyond that had gotten lost in an oblivion from which they never emerged – just added to the paralyzing lack of appeal the traveling method held.

Which just went to show she needed to freak out in order to successfully pull one off.

Grimacing ruefully, she glanced back through the doorway. Anyone near the library would’ve felt that portal, small though it had been. And Cornelius would send someone with food shortly. Either way, they’d be looking for her. As a respite went, this couldn’t last long.

For a moment, she contemplated using a portal to go back to the library, and thus avoid their questions, and then abandoned the idea when her stomach quivered at the thought. It was just a simple unidirectional spell, and it wasn’t like she was going to tie her magic to something stupid like a box, and thus risk her landmarks moving, breaking the portal spell, and catapulting her into the lovely void Elias warned her about. But the idea of traveling a quarter mile over and ten stories up in little more than two heartbeats still made her knees weak.

Elias assured her she’d get used to it. Cornelius insisted she do so. But she didn’t figure two people who’d spent their lives traveling by magical expressway could understand the reservations of someone who hadn’t. Pushing away from the pile of cinder blocks, she resigned herself to hiking back to the factory, and to answering their furious questions when she finally arrived.