by Amy Sumida
“Try to relax,” Odin, who stood near my feet with Gage, said to me.
I gave him the look that statement deserved, and he chuckled.
“There is no stopping once we begin, Elaria,” Osamu warned me. “Are you certain you want to do this?”
“I'm certain. Just get on with it, please.”
The Witches began to chant. I recognized the language as the one all Witches employed for casting, but I couldn't tell you what they said. My magic never required me to learn such things; my language was music. Witch hands lifted and extended over my body. Then they began to glow. Magic coalesced around their palms; each manifestation unique to its caster. Odin's glowed golden-green with motes of Earth suspended in the air around his hand. Vivian's light was sapphire and sprinkled with Water droplets. Swirls of pale yellow Air blew around Glinda's hand. And Osamu presented a cupped palm full of Fire that emitted a red haze.
The Elements suddenly speared out from the Witches' hands and collided above me, forming a cumulus cloud of sparking, glowing, crackling energy. I stared at the miniature storm warily. Then, out of the corner of my eyes, I caught a sharp movement; a downward slash of the hands controlling the magic.
The magical conglomeration slammed into my chest. I gasped with the impact and closed my eyes automatically. Inside my body, a battle exploded; my magic against the invading forces. My Goddess Fire and Light joined with my Spellsong to form a shield around my heart, where RS had taken refuge. I began to tremble then shake. My lovers' hands tightened and pressed down.
“Elaria, you have to stop fighting us,” Odin ordered.
“I'm not. It's the magic,” I grit out past clenched teeth.
“It's your magic!” Glinda hissed from somewhere above my head. “Control it, damn you! If you can work with us instead of against us, this will go so much easier.”
I took a shaky breath and focused.
Listen to my voice, my love, Kyanite said soothingly. There is no danger here. They are helping you.
I know that.
You know it, but your magic doesn't, he insisted. You must feel it. Relax your muscles; let go of your anxiety. Imagine your body becoming liquid.
I can't help you, El, RS said in a strained voice. I thought perhaps I could, but I can't. I'm too afraid. I can barely stop myself from begging you to protect me.
It's okay, RS, I said gently. You can be afraid. I'll be strong for you this time.
I felt her relax and it helped me to relax. I let out a breath and my magic withdrew; laid down its arms and opened the gates. I had a moment of peace before the agony hit. You know that annoying itch you get that's just under the skin? The one that's impossible to scratch? It started like that but then the itching turned into a burning. No; a tearing. No; freezing. It was so many terrible things rolled together. Grinding against me, changing with every breath. The magic dug into me with its metaphysical claws and tore me apart like a dog digging for a buried bone and I was the soil. It had entered my body directly over my heart but didn't sink into that organ. Instead, the spell spread upward; slicing apart my brain, blinding me, and setting my teeth to gnashing. My muscles there strained. I could barely breathe past the constriction in my throat.
“Verin, hand me that cloth!” Glinda demanded. “Here, Elaria, you can bite on this.”
Glinda eased my mouth open and laid a rolled piece of fabric between my teeth. I clamped down on it and moaned. My jaw creaked, threatened to break, but that pain was minor compared to the needles surging through my blood.
Finally, after what seemed like hours, the Witches' spell moved down, and I spat out the cloth to gasp in air. But, seconds later, I clenched my jaw again to keep from screaming. The magic was moving down the sides of my torso, infiltrating my organs; all but my heart. It sliced through my belly, seared my sex, and slashed down my thighs. My kneecaps felt as if they might pop out of my skin, what with all the violent energy running beneath them. My calves went rigid with intense charlie horses. My toes curled. The pressure built and built. But still, I didn't scream. I moaned and writhed but didn't scream. Not for pride but for love; for my husbands.
“You're doing good, El,” Gage's words were encouraging but his tone was filled with tears.
“Nearly there, little bird,” Torin added in a stronger voice.
Then the magic moved back to my chest.
RS shrieked so stridently that it blocked all other sounds. She condensed herself in my heart like a stone, clogging my blood flow. My heartbeat stuttered. My body went rigid. The Witch spell seeped into RS despite her solidity and the process felt like acid in my chest. All of my magic trembled, hanging on the precipice of Hell. Kyanite roared like a wounded beast.
And I screamed at last.
My men were speaking to me, their hands restraining me as my body fought the torture, but I couldn't make out their words. Not past the sound of my own ragged cries. I couldn't stop and there was power in my voice. My magic had found an outlet. The table shook. It caught fire. The men grunted in pain but held on. I tried to stop it but couldn't; I had lost control completely. I was burning from within and the flames were too intense; they'd cast themselves out of me. I'd soon become an inferno and incinerate us all.
“No!” I screamed. I wanted to tell them to let go; to save themselves and leave me to burn, but I couldn't manage more than that single word.
Then cool water collected around me, just above my skin. The flames eating the worktable hissed out and those inside me drew back. I took a stuttering breath and opened my eyes. Darcraxis stared down at me as if he could will me to live. His eyes glowed sapphire blue and water coalesced in the air around him.
“My Water to your Fire,” Darc said steadily. “I am with you always, Elaria.”
I took a breath to tell him how much I loved him but the pain returned. My teeth cracked on my screams as I forced down my magic. Darc had given me just enough strength to power through. Then I realized it wasn't just Darc; all of my men were channeling their energy to me; giving me everything they could to keep me going. Their hands began to shake, their grips loosen, and I knew I couldn't take much more. If they grew too weak to hold me down, we might not be able to complete the spell.
I concentrated on cutting them off.
The men gasped and jerked. I snarled past my teeth with the effort. The focus was good and not just for saving my men from depletion. It gave my magic a task to concentrate on. Instead of fighting the Witches, it was fighting my men.
“No!” Odin growled. “You need the path between you open, Elaria! Do not block them!”
“I need to fight something!” I shouted.
“No, you don't,” Declan said gently and took my hand. “This is not your battle, Spellsinger. Let the Witches fight for you. You only need to let them.”
“Declan.” I squeezed his hand.
“We're all with you,” Declan said firmly.
“Let go, El,” Banning urged. “I know it hurts but you've got to accept the pain. Come on, baby, you've conquered worse than this.”
“I can't,” I whispered. “I need something to focus on.”
“Then sing, little bird,” Torin urged me as a tear slid down his cheek.
I heard what he left unspoken; that I had vowed to go down singing. If I started to sing now, it would that end had come. It's not over until the Spellsinger sings. So be it.
I've got you, my love, Kyanite vowed.
A light drumming and the shimmy of a tambourine started to play. It sounded almost silly; the entirely wrong soundtrack for this scene. But then the magic lifted, grabbing onto the chance to do something other than fight the men I loved. It gave my voice strength, and I began to do what I do best.
“Make it Out Alive” by Jennifer Hall was supposed to be about surviving love, but its lyrics were perfect for this fight. Fire, grasping hands, and claws; I sang about torture and desire. I sang about love and loss and fear. I sang about survival.
And it was enough.
I let go. Focused on the music, which also focused me on my goal. I was able to surrender to the invading spell. I knew this was the only chance for survival, and I took it. My body began to spasm. I had let go of my other magic but the fight had taken its toll. The music stuttered. My voice broke. I choked on blood; it spurted from my lips. Trailed down my neck and into my hair. The agony was mind-numbing; I couldn't fight now even had I wanted to. I couldn't focus on anything but pain. Kyanite gave me all of his strength—I could feel him pulling power from every piece of kyanite on the island—but it was a drop in my empty bucket. My empty, burning bucket.
I shrieked and sat up, nearly casting off my men. They grappled to hold me down and a new set of hands joined them. Through a crimson haze, I saw the gleam of blue hair. They managed to force me back down.
“Elaria!” Darcraxis was shouting. “Stay with us!”
I looked up into Darc's eyes, directly above mine. They were full of fear. Terror. I wanted to reassure him but another twist of magic sent my back arching. My nails clawed at wood and broke. My legs tried to thrum but were held down and could only tremble. Blood sprayed; I don't know from where. My entire body felt like a giant wound.
“Do something!” Someone shouted.
“We're doing all we can,” Glinda snapped. “Her heart is failing.”
“No!” Darc shouted in denial. “Her heart is stronger than any I know.” He bent over me. “Please, my fire, push past the pain. This is only physical; it means nothing. You are a Goddess, remember? You are above this. You are pure magic and you are truly immortal! Be more than this body!”
I whimpered.
My battered body kept thrashing even though I was exhausted. I choked on more blood. Darc had to angle my head so I could breathe. I heard him weeping; felt his tears hit my cheek. My men pushed their power into me until there was nearly nothing left. Their hands fell limply to the table as they dropped to their knees as if in prayer. They leaned forward, cheeks laid on biceps to stare at me as if they knew it was the end and fully intended for my face to be the last thing they saw. Our family was spent. Tapped out. We had failed. I started to cry; not for myself but the men I was pulling down into death with me. They could have survived. They could still, if they'd only let go. But I knew they wouldn't.
“Don't die with me,” I gurgled past the blood and tears. “Let go.”
“Never,” Declan vowed, speaking for them all. “We go where you go, my love.”
I sobbed.
A tremendous roar suddenly filled the chamber and left a silence in its wake that was nearly deafening. A face came into my view on my right, pressed between Vivian and Darc. A hand gripped mine.
“Take my strength,” Verin offered. “Whatever you need, Elaria, take it. Bind me to you.”
“No,” I whispered and tried to let go.
“Yes!” Verin snarled and held fast. “Do it now! I am a Dragon King; I have enough power to save you. Take it!”
“She can't,” Gage's voice was broken; a cracking shell of itself. “You have to love each other. The bond can't be made without love.”
Verin roared in frustration.
I went still. My heart slowed. My tears dried. Blood filled my mouth sluggishly. And a new peace filled me. I could feel the men reviving despite their stubborn intention to die with me. This wouldn't kill them. They'd live and that thought was enough to add joy to my peace. The battle was finally over. The Witches' spell had won but not in the way we'd hoped. RS was dying, her magic pulsing with the beats of my heart; slowing. But it was okay. I'd return. I'd find them again. I knew I would. And at least I didn't have to burn. Perhaps this had been less painful than the alternative.
I doubt that, RS muttered weakly.
I would have laughed if I'd had the strength.
My love, please, Kyanite begged. Don't leave me. I cannot bear to serve another queen. Please!
I love you, Ky. Tell Darc how much I love him. Tell him to tell the others I love them too and that I'll come back. I'll find them. But they have to save Slate. Don't let them abandon Slate. Promise me.
I promise, Kyanite's voice shattered into weeping.
Then someone slapped my face.
I gasped and opened my eyes. Furious eyes, a blue so pale they were almost colorless, glared down at me.
“Give me your heart, woman!” Verin demanded. “I offer you mine. Now, give me yours! It's dying and broken anyway; give it to me!”
I smiled serenely at the beautiful, ferocious man I would have been honored to love. But I didn't love Verin and the heart can't be forced, even when it lay dying. More importantly, I knew he didn't love me. Oh, there was something there; something that may have blossomed into love eventually, something that drove Verin into fighting for me. But it wasn't fully grown yet and not even the will of a Dragon could change that.
“Thank you, you're a good man,” I whispered to Verin. Then I looked at the men I did love because it was their faces I wanted to carry with me into death and, now that Verin had given me a chance to speak to them, it was them who I wanted to give my last words to. They weren't anything earth-shattering; they were likely very common last words. But they were important nonetheless. “I love you all so very much.”
“Kiss her!” Vivian shouted suddenly.
I looked at Vivian in shock. She was staring at Verin and had a hand extended into a space between him and me. Water coalesced before her palm and shot out to Verin's chest. He gasped and jerked, his eyes turning indigo in an instant, and lowered that shaky, stunning stare to mine. The water dove from Verin to me, connecting us, and something shivered through my chest... through my heart.
RS cried out wordlessly.
As I stared at Verin, he lowered his lips to mine and with that contact, brilliant energy suffused my body. My heart started to pound savagely, filling with a wild lightness. Ecstasy of the soul. Profound wonder. Hope. Verin eased back from our chaste kiss, my blood on his lips, and stared down at me with the same wonder filling his eyes. I could have stared at him forever. Traced the sharp edges of his cheekbones. Memorized the shape of his exotic eyes. Held their color in my heart like scripture. He was my mantra; my wish fulfilled. Everything I've ever needed or wanted. Everything. My chest fluttered with the bursting bloom of new love and it banished all of the pain. The elemental magic lifted from my body like a heatwave and the Rooster Spell crowed triumphantly.
We're back, baby! RS shouted in my voice.
My love, we have prevailed, Kyanite whispered in amazement.
I had a few moments to bask in that victory and my sudden—and possibly obsessive—love for Verin before my exhaustion caught up with me. With a bloody palm on the Blue Dragon's cheek, I passed out.
Chapter Forty-Nine
The next time I opened my eyes, I found myself in a bed instead of sprawled across a table. I sighed and turned my head to look at the man sitting beside me; the one holding my hand.
A man who was also a Dragon.
My men sat around Verin; Darc and Declan on the bed with me while Gage, Banning, and Torin had pulled chairs up. But Verin sat beside my head, his stare fixed on my face as if it had been there for hours and his body tightly wound as if daring anyone to move him. His shoulders relaxed when our gazes met.
“Hey,” I whispered.
Verin made a soft sound and clutched my hand tighter.
“Is she awake?” Gage jumped up.
The men crowded around me, asking after my wellbeing without giving me a chance to respond. So many voices, all at once, but all with the same message; love and concern.
“I'm good.” I tried to sit up, but Verin pushed me back down with a chiding growl. “I feel as if I've been lying around for days.” I pushed his hand away and sat up anyway.
Verin narrowed his eyes at me and growled again.
“Stop it,” I chided gently.
Verin frowned.
“Welcome to our world,” Darc said to him.
Verin grimaced but relented. And by r
elent, I mean that he reached behind me to prop me up with pillows.
“What happened?” I asked everyone.
The men looked at each other, obviously unsure how to begin.