The Dark Warden (Book 6) (28 page)

Yet that didn’t seem to be happening.

Mara knelt and touched Morigna’s shoulder. That felt real, at least. To her Sight, it looked as if Morigna was somehow absorbing the dark magic. Using the soulcatcher had almost transformed Jager into an urhaalgar. Yet Jager hadn’t been a user of magic. Morigna was, and it seemed her natural abilities were assimilating the dark power she had absorbed. 

She still wasn’t sure what it would do to Morigna. Right now they had larger problems. 

Figuring out where the hell they were, for one. 

Morigna groaned again, and her eyes twitched open. They were still black and hard, but a haze of blue fire seemed to shimmer within them. 

“We are alive,” said Morigna at last. The fact seemed to astonish her.

“Yes,” said Mara. “I told you not to touch that stone.”

“Clearly I should have listened,” said Morigna, sitting up. She winced and pressed the heels of her hands against her forehead. “I have never been drunk, but one imagines this is what a hangover is like.”

“There’s usually more vomiting,” said Mara.

Morigna got to her feet and looked around.

“This is not Urd Morlemoch,” said Morigna. 

A man in a dark suit walked through her and she flinched. 

“That…should not have happened,” said Morigna. 

“I think we’re on Old Earth,” said Mara. She waved a hand at the blue-green fire in the distance. “That, I believe, is soon going to become the Warden’s gate. I’m not sure what happened to us.”

Morigna turned, considered the gate for a moment, and looked at Mara.

“Threshold,” she said at last. 

“I’m sorry?” said Mara. 

“I believe we are on Old Earth’s threshold,” said Morigna. “Remember what the Warden said. The spell to create a gate first joins the worlds’ thresholds, their shadows in the spirit realm. He must have joined together the thresholds while we were unconscious. Then when I touched the soulstone…the power drew us into the threshold of our world, and then we were sucked here.” 

“Is the gate open, then?” said Mara. 

Morigna cast the spell to sense the presence of magic, and Mara noted the swirl of blue fire around her fingers. “No. I do not believe so. It will be soon, though.”

“We have to get back,” said Mara. “If we wait until the Warden opens the gate, he will kill us, and Calliande will never get her body back.”

“How do we get back?” said Morigna. “I do not even know how we got here.”

“My power,” said Mara. “After I touched you, after you picked up that stupid soulstone, it triggered my power. The dark magic combined with the power in my blood must have thrown us into the threshold.”

“Perhaps that is how your power works,” said Morigna. “It shifts you into the threshold and then back into the mortal world, allowing you to cover dozens of yards in the blink of an eye.”

“Except the power of the additional dark magic pulled us here,” said Mara, “and the Warden’s spell drew us into the threshold of Old Earth.”

“We can theorize later. Can you take us back?” said Morigna.

“Maybe,” said Mara. She reached for the fiery song within her and drew on its power. She started to travel, blue fire shining in her veins, but nothing happened. Something was blocking her, holding her back. It was the boundary between the threshold and the mortal world, she realized. It was too strong.

In the distance the blue-green fire of the gate brightened.

The barrier was too strong here, but the Warden was tearing a hole through it. 

“I can’t do it here,” said Mara. “But if we get closer to the gate, I might be able to punch through.”

“The gate?” said Morigna with a frown. “If we return to the material world there…will not we simply appear in front of the Warden and his gate?”

“We might,” said Mara. “Do you have any better ideas?”

“I do not,” said Morigna. 

“I was afraid you would say that,” said Mara. “Let’s go. Oh, give me your dagger.”

“The dagger?” said Morigna, but she slid the dwarven blade from its sheath and passed it to Mara. “Why the dagger?”

“Because,” said Mara, “if there are any creatures here, I suspect they will be magical in nature, and I have no means to harm magical creatures.”

“A good point,” said Morigna. “Let us hope your pessimism is misplaced.”

Mara shrugged. “There is a first time for everything, I am told.” 

They set off through the misty street.

###

Morigna could not stop staring. 

She knew she ought to be watching for danger, but she could not turn her eyes from the sights that thronged the streets of London. The peculiar vehicles seemed like living beasts wrought of glass and enameled metal, moving with a speed that even an urvaalg could not match. Signs glowed with an inner light as if by magic, but no doubt through some mechanical contrivance. From time to time she even glimpsed one of the metal birds flying far overhead, so high it was a speck against the blue sky. 

The peculiar sights were also a welcome distraction from the fear that churned in her heart. Fear for Ridmark, fear of remaining trapped in this strange place. 

And fear of what she had done to herself. 

The dark magic coiled within her, sinking further into her flesh with every step she took. Part of Morigna’s mind recognized that something was very wrong, that she ought to be alarmed. The dark magic was dangerous. Dark magic had led to the deaths of everyone she had ever loved. 

Another part of her exulted in it.

The power could make her much stronger, perhaps even as strong as Calliande. With it she could augment her spells of earth magic, making them far more potent. She could even attack creatures of dark magic directly as Calliande did. Perhaps Morigna could even imbue weapons with enchantments. Ridmark would not need a soulblade if she could fashion a weapon of power for him. 

Morigna made herself look around, forcing aside the wild thoughts that bounced around the inside of her head. None of those dreams would ever come true if she died here, if she wandered Old Earth’s threshold until she starved to death. 

Or if Mara’s fears were correct, and dangerous creatures did wander the threshold. 

“There,” said Mara.

A sheet of blue-green fire rose from the center of the misty street, the vehicles passing through it without hindrance. Mara strode into the street without stopping. Morigna hesitated, and then followed, wincing a bit as the vehicles ripped through her without slowing. She knew the things could not hurt her, but nonetheless stepping in front of something so large that could move so fast put her instincts on edge. 

“It hasn’t opened yet?” said Mara. 

“I do not believe so,” said Morigna. The amount of raw power coursing through the half-formed gate made her teeth vibrate. As her eyes focused upon the gate, suddenly she could see through it. Beyond she glimpsed a grand circle of the dark elves, similar to the one where the Old Man had tried to steal her body. Calliande floated a few feet off the ground before the gate, blue fire and shadows snarling around her hands, her eyes bottomless black pits. In the distance rose the half-ruined walls and thrusting stone towers of Urd Morlemoch. 

“Can he see us?” said Morigna. 

“I do not think so,” said Mara, squinting at the gate. “I think…I think he sees wherever the gate will open in Old Earth.” She gestured at the busy street around them. “The city of London in Britannia, presumably. Though if no one on Old Earth knows how to use magic, they won’t even realize that they’re about to be invaded.”

“Then let us spoil the Warden’s plans,” said Morigna. “Can you punch through the barrier here?”

“I…I think so,” said Mara, closing her eyes. “Let me concentrate for a moment. Make sure no one kills me, please.”

“I do not think we are in any danger of that,” said Morigna, watching the vehicles and the people go past. “The men are so absorbed in their speaking devices that one doubts they would notice the Warden and his hordes walking through the gate. And the women…if they tried to run in those ridiculous shoes, they would snap their ankles like twigs.”

Mara said nothing, her eyes darting back and forth behind closed lids, the veins in her hands and neck glimmering with blue fire. Her face was taut with strain, sweat rolling down her jaw and forehead. Morigna wanted to help her, but could not think of a way. She hoped the strain of breaking through the barrier to the mortal world was not too much for Mara.

“Yes,” said Mara. “I think….yes, I think I can do it. Just need to gather my strength for a moment.”

Morigna nodded, remembered that Mara could not see her, and then saw the man in the suit staring at her. 

He looked little different than the other men, pale and gaunt, his black suit close-fitting, a shiny strip of black cloth wound around his collar and dangling into his buttoned coat. Unlike many of the others, he wore a peculiar pair of black spectacles that concealed his eyes. And unlike the others, he appeared sharp and clear, while everyone else Morigna had seen was wrapped in white haze. 

He was looking right at them.

The man stepped off the curb, and one of the horseless vehicles shot through him, leaving him untouched. 

He was here, with them, in the threshold. 

“Mara,” said Morigna. 

“Almost there,” said Mara. “I need…”

The man reached up and removed his spectacles, and Morigna flinched. 

His eyes were missing. Instead he had clusters of barbed tentacles, each one tipped with a razor-edged claw. His mouth yawned wide, far wider than a human mouth could open, and a rough black tongue rolled over jagged fangs. The black suit shredded as he hunched over, bony spines jutting from his legs and arms. Suddenly he looked a cross between a lizard and a insect.

A cross between a lizard and an insect that was hungry. 

“Mara!” said Morigna, summoning her magic as the creature charged.

Mara’s eyes opened, then opened wider, and she raised the dwarven dagger. 

Morigna focused her magic, the dark power she had stolen from the soulstone surging through her. For a moment she did not know what to do. She could have commanded the earth to fold and ripple beneath the creature, or roots to come up and encircle it, but she was reasonably certain that she was not standing on actual earth and that it held no roots. 

The answer came to her.

She raised her palm and focused the power as the patterns for a new spell burned in her mind, and a blast of eerie blue flame erupted from her fingers and struck the charging creature. It staggered to a halt with a scream. The creature collapsed, the wrath of the magic burning it to ashes.

Morigna gaped in astonishment. She hadn’t meant to hit it that hard. 

“What did you do?” said Mara, who looked as surprised as Morigna felt. 

“I do not know,” said Morigna. “I…”

A dozen more men in suits surged through the crowd below the buildings, changing shape and growing more monstrous with every step. 

“Brace yourself!” said Mara, reversing her grip on the dagger.

Morigna raised both hands and unleashed spells. Instead of folding the earth, her will flung a wave of snarling blue flame at the charging creatures, burning three of them to ashes. She cast the spell to summon roots, and instead howling coils of blue flame erupted from the ground and wrapped around the creatures. The coils burned into their flesh, black slime erupting from the wounds, and sent them tumbling to the ground in death agonies. Mara moved with sleek grace, the dwarven dagger driving into a creature’s heart. In the same motion she wheeled and opened another creature’s throat. Whatever the things were, they apparently needed to breathe, and the creature fell, choking on the black slime that served as its blood. Morigna burned down another, and another, the new power surging through her like a storm. Exultation filled her. She had never wielded power like this before. If the Old Man faced her now, he would not find her so easy to overcome.

But even the new power was not enough. More of the misshapen things emerged from the mists, and Morigna felt the limits of her new power. Even with the stolen magic, she could not hold back the creatures for much longer. She flung out a blast of blue fire and threw the creatures back, sending them rolling across the road as the vehicles shot through them.

And as Morigna did, she saw the figure watching her. 

It stood beyond the creatures, wearing a long black coat with a hood that concealed its features. Gloved hands gripped a long black staff, its length carved with odd symbols. Was that figure commanding the creatures? 

The hooded shape raised its staff, and the symbols pulsed with yellow-orange light, as if flames burned within the staff’s core. Morigna sensed the surge of magical power, and she prepared to strike back. 

But there was no need.

The figure thrust the staff and a wall of flames erupted from the ground, rolling forward in a wave. The inferno ripped through the gathered creatures, reducing their flesh to ash and sending their bones rolling across the ground. The heat of the firestorm made Morigna’s eyes water. 

It was too much for the creatures. The survivors fled in all directions, some of them still on fire. The hooded shape lowered the glowing staff, the long coat whipping in the wind from the flames, and Morigna saw the figure was a woman. Beneath the long coat she wore dusty boots, faded black trousers, a long vest, and a ragged black shirt. 

The flames died away, the last of the creatures fleeing, and Morigna stared at the woman in the black coat. 

Mara spoke first. “Thank you for your assistance. I fear things would have gone badly if not for your help.”

“Latin,” said the hooded woman. Her voice had an odd, worn rasp to it. “You…are speaking Latin?” 

“We are,” said Mara. 

“A long time,” said the woman. “I have not heard someone speaking Latin for a long time.” She snorted. “At least not as a native speaker. The priests try, but…it is not the same.” 

“If you will forgive the question,” said Mara, “might my friend and I know your identity?”

The hooded woman was silent for a long moment. “Are you sure you want to know?”