“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 stori
es 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.
Despite the time of year, the glowering clouds lent the air a chill it otherwise wouldn’t have possessed. The bone-white walls of the factory were stark against the iron sky while, like golems at the edge of a concrete sea, the warehouses crouched at the border of the parking lot, gaping emptily.
Eyeing the monolithic factory, she hesitated. The entrance across the parking lot would dump her straight onto the factory floor, and thus into a crowd of Merlin who’d all wonder why their queen was down among them, instead of up in the library where she belonged. The loading dock would have the same result, only from whatever cripple-and-wizard teams happened to be back from their hideouts in the city. The council would deeply not appreciate either scenario, and would probably have a number of chastising things to say in each case.
But the fire escape on the rear of the factory would take her to the roof of the outlying buildings, and from there to the halls in the heart of the complex. A humorless grin tweaking her lip, she began winding her way through the warehouses toward the far side of the factory.
Just because she didn’t want to use a portal didn’t mean she had to throw herself into the lion’s den.
Gravel crunched beneath her feet, the sound loud in the quiet. With this many wizards in close proximity, the skies were empty of birds for nearly a mile around. The stirring of loose tarps over the warehouse windows carried eerily through the silence, and she could hear her own breathing as she walked.
The sound of an engine in the distance brought her up short. Tires growled across the gravel, coming closer by the second. Brow furrowing, she glanced around, and through a gap between two warehouses, she caught sight of a white-sided delivery truck rolling toward the factory’s rear door.
She exhaled, rolling her eyes at her own nervousness. It was just one of the trucks the cripples and wizards used to get around. With their vulnerabilities to magic, cripples couldn’t travel by portal. That much power in close proximity shattered the strange shell around them, killing them instantly even if the wizard tried to hold the effects back with a shield. To compensate, the Merlin had picked up a few windowless trucks, and now most of the teams went around town under the cover of being delivery drivers.
But since the truck was pulling to a stop by the rear entrance, they were now squarely between her and the fire escape.
Biting her lip in consternation, she glanced around and then crept to the end of the line of warehouses, trying to keep the gravel from making too much noise beneath her. She could wait till they were inside and then skirt around to the stairs. With the rear door and the truck in clear view only a few yards away, it wouldn’t be hard to tell when they’d gone.
Two wizards climbed from the front of the truck, heading for the back. The rolling rear door squealed as they tugged it up and their footsteps clunked heavily as they climbed inside. Muffled sounds followed. Her brow drew down. And then the factory door swung open.
A cocksure smile on his face, Sebastian sauntered down the steps and waited for the wizards to emerge.
“Well,” he commented. “You didn’t get far.”
Her confusion grew.
The wizards hauled two people from the truck, dumping them at Sebastian’s feet. On their knees with their clothes in tatters, the teenage boy and girl clung to each other tightly.
Ashe’s heart started to pound as her mind tried to make sense of what she was seeing. The kids were cripples. But they were terrified.
“Where are the others?” Sebastian asked them.
At their silence, he gave them a reproving look. “Come now. You let your friends out, and after I went to so much trouble to catch them, too. You must have had a plan. Where were you headed?” He grinned. “Where are those hideouts you cripples are so fond of?”
“Go to hell,” the boy spat.
Sebastian sighed. “So rude.”
The boy said nothing, while the girl just buried her head in his side. Bending down, Sebastian took her chin in his hand, tilting her face up toward him.
“Hush, child,” he said tenderly. “We’re not going to hurt you.”
His magic lashed out.
The girl’s chin slid from his grasp as both teenagers slumped to the ground.
Sebastian straightened, rolling his neck languorously as the shards of light around the kids faded into him.
“Find the others,” he ordered, and then motioned to the bodies. “Get rid of those.”
He turned and walked back into the factory, leaving the guards to stuff the corpses into the truck and then drive away.
Ashe stared. She couldn’t feel her hands or feet. Everything had gone numb. Screams bounced around inside, trying to find the way out, but she couldn’t remember how to make a sound.
Ferals. They…
Oh God…
Her gaze went to the building.
Sebastian… Sebastian was a feral.
She shook her head, uncomprehending. How could he? How could anyone who knew the Blood existed murder the only people who could see them?
Unless…
His bigoted words from the council meeting so many months ago came back and her blood went cold. She’d watched him storm across the factory floor. She’d watched him grab a few wizards on his way out.
He’d been planning this all along.
And there wasn’t any reason to think the Blood didn’t have allies among the Merlin as well.
Air forced its way into her lungs.
The council didn’t know. They couldn’t. They didn’t know he was killing while they were trying to build a bridge, and he was going to destroy everything they’d worked for if…
She ran for the factory. Yanking open the door, she darted through the dark hallways and hit the hospital wing at full speed. People stared as she raced past, and the guards called questions as she tore up the stairs. Whipping around the corner, she bolted onto the walkway and then skidded to a stop at the conference room door.
Someone had to be here. They always were. And as long as that someone wasn’t Sebastian, she stood a chance of explaining before she went off and set one of the council on fire.
Shoving open the door, she choked in relief as Darius glanced up from his notes.
“My God, your majesty,” he gasped at the sight of her. Rising swiftly, he rounded the table and then gripped her arms to steady her. “Are you alright? What happened?”
She shook her head. Breathing hard, she closed her eyes briefly and forced the words out. “Sebastian, he…” she swallowed. “Cripples. Outside. He killed them. Darius, he’s a feral. I think he’s working for the Blood.”
The man blinked, his normally unflappable expression fracturing into genuine shock. “Are… are you certain?”
She nodded.
Clearly struggling to maintain his calm, he turned away. “I always knew he had prejudices, but I never…” Darius’ brow furrowed as he looked back at her. “Is it possible they were spies? We had word Taliesin–”
“They were kids, Darius.”
A hint of nausea broke past his composure. “Ah.”
He exhaled, absorbing the information as he tried to regroup. “Sebastian will be coming in shortly. Returning from addressing a threat in town… or so he told me.” His expression tightened and then he glanced to her again, reading her anger. “And perhaps you shouldn’t be here when he–”
The door swung open. “Darius,” Sebastian said as he strolled in. “I–”
He cut off at the sight of her. Confusion and caution flashed over his face as his gaze darted between her and Darius. Carefully, he pushed
the door closed, his wariness growing as he saw the fury in her eyes.
“What’s going on?” he asked, his tone attempting to be casual, and failing.
“I saw you,” she whispered, trembling with rage. He looked so calm. A bit intimidated by them staring him down, but not like someone who’d just committed murder less than three minutes before.
His gaze flicked between her and Darius again, and he chuckled bewilderedly. “Well, I am standing in front of you, your majesty. So–”
“I saw you kill them.”
Sebastian blinked. He tried another baffled chuckle.
Her hands began to shimmer with heat.
“Your highness,” Darius protested. “Please. We need to handle this appropriately. You cannot–”
“Okay,” she agreed coldly, not taking her eyes from Sebastian. She jerked her chin at the door. “Let’s handle it.”
Anxiety increasing, Sebastian looked between them. “Darius, this is crazy. What is she–”
Flames flared from her clenched fists, and he cut off at the sight.
“Go,” she ordered. “Out there. I want everyone to know what you’ve done.”
Sebastian tore his gaze from the flames, looking to Darius.
And the fear melted from his face, leaving only loathing.
“So that’s it, then,” he said to the man. “You hang me out to dry.”
Confusion cut through her rage, and she looked between the two councilmen.
“You are such a fool, you know that?” Sebastian told her. “You think he’s such a strong wizard because he was just born that way?”
Darius’ magic lashed across the room like a whip, crackling powerfully from Sebastian’s shields. The two men stared at one another, icy and sneering in turn.
Suddenly trembling, Ashe backed away from Darius.
“It was a great plan, really,” Sebastian continued. “Hundreds of cripples answer the call of their trusted ally, Queen Ashe, to stop the bogeymen that terrify them so. The queen stays in her tower, finding us the spell to bind Taliesin. And we get fuel to fight the war. Brilliant.”
Taliesin Ascendant (The Children and the Blood) Page 14