CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
The stone fit easily in the palm of her hand. Its smooth contours and jagged edges had a sort of chaotic beauty, as though its symmetry could not have formed any other way. It was an echo not only of the Talents now captive inside, but of the constant battle held back by the Warding Pillars. Valeda imagined she could almost hear the growl of the Wild rumbling through the stone, underplayed by deep drums that beat harder and faster until her heart clamored to keep its pace.
War is coming, it told her as she stared at it.
She stood sequestered in a small alcove to the side of the stage. Valeda knew instinctively how to regulate her temperature now. Otherwise she imagined she'd be frozen stiff. Due to the danger of the moment, she'd chosen to wear the riding pants and bodice Elsie had given to her in Delgora. They fit perfectly, but were made of a lighter material better suited to the tropics. She wore a jacket and gloves for appearances, though she had a feeling the rest of Magnellum was about to learn of her newfound Talent.
The opening ceremonies of Winter Tournament were about to begin and Elsie was somewhere in the crowd, prepared to interrupt the revelry. It seemed senseless to Valeda that they were trying this. The people had already been warned about the coming disaster. They hadn't listened then and they likely wouldn't listen now. In fact, if things turned violent, Valeda had strict instructions to run hard and fast for their awaiting dirigible. Winslow was supposed to watch out for her, which gave her some comfort. He hadn't left her side since she'd discovered Monty in her room two days ago.
Could it have been only two days since poor Monty's death?
So much had happened that it felt strange thinking of him now. Rescuing Elsie and Dorian was a hullaballoo she doubted she'd ever forget, and then the arrest of Minne, Loreena and Alois. Winslow had spared her from having to sit through the Council's emergency meeting, but she knew the trio were now sitting, Talentless, in a Warder's holding cell.
The Talentless part of their conundrum was what puzzled Valeda the most. It felt important, almost strategic. Magic had wanted all of them in the same room, had wanted Elsie so focused that he could work on drawing out those three. Which made her wonder why her Talent hadn't been taken. Or Winslow's for that matter. She liked that it had been the antagonists of the encounter who were targeted, but she couldn't help wondering what it was all for.
Something bigger was at play here; she could feel it.
She rubbed a smooth expanse on the stone with her thumb and watched the light within react to her. She could feel the Wild in her stirring. It was equal parts attracted and repulsed by the stone, like watching a fire rage through a forest, seeing both the tragedy and the beauty of the flames. Her Talent, which she assumed she should not be able to sense while holding the Remora stone, had the same feeling about it.
"What are you?" she whispered to it. "And why did Magic give you to me?"
Winslow shifted in the shadows beside her. Valeda blushed. She'd forgotten how close he was.
"I imagine you're concerned for my mental state now," she said with a sheepish laugh. "Talking to stones and such."
"I've always been concerned about you," he said. "Though I admit, talking to a stone does seem slightly more alarming than your other quirks. Let me know if it talks back."
"Other quirks?" Valeda asked, returning the stone to her pocket. "Just how many quirks do I have?"
"Oh, you have several," Winslow said. He moved to the entrance of the alcove and looked out.
Two young lords had taken center stage and the crowd roared to life. They hoisted a large trophy, identifying themselves as last year's tournament winners. Valeda felt her pulse quicken. Any moment now, Elsie would make her move.
"You're far too independent," Winslow said conversationally. "And headstrong. You hold your breath when you're angry. And you hum to yourself when you're reading, but not while you're writing."
"I do not hold my breath when I'm angry!"
"You don't?"
"No, I most certainly do not."
"You're quite certain?"
"Absolutely!"
He hummed and shrugged before looking back to the stage. Valeda glared at him. The nerve of the man to make such a summary of her! What did he mean she was "far too independent"? She was proud of her independence.
"Breathe, Vee," he said, with a chuckle.
Valeda inhaled sharply. She felt her cheeks burn and she stammered for some kind of rebuttal. He was teasing her. They were about to anger the whole of Magnellum society and the arrogant man was teasing her.
"You're also the bravest creature I've ever seen," he said.
"This is no time for teasing, Lord Agoston."
"Call me Winslow," he said and grinned at her. "And I meant every word."
"You're incorrigible."
"So they all say."
Valeda crossed her arms and turned to watch the stage. She felt exposed by his words, and foolishly good. But she knew him well enough now to know that his mood was about to change. This is his pattern, she reminded herself. He shows affection and then he shoves you away. The sooner this business is done, the sooner she could get away from him.
Out in the courtyard, Elsie and Dorian stepped onto the stage. The crowd went quiet. No one seemed to move, not even to whisper their appall. Valeda bit her lower lip and prayed the Fates would be merciful. Upsetting the Untalented was bad, but prodding the fury of the Witch-Born Council as they were could result in a swift execution for all parties involved.
And she was inextricably involved now.
The thought made her queasy and Valeda scanned the crowd, identifying the nobility. Magnellum had thirteen Houses, each with a House Witch. As powerful as Elsie and Dorian might be, twelve against one were still bad odds. Well, Valeda thought, eleven against one. Caresse and Bartholomew Feverrette were already on the dirigible, keeping it ready for their departure.
She spotted Morgana Agoston at the front of the crowd and shuddered. This was going to end badly, she could just feel it.
"People of Magnellum," Elsie shouted above the rustle of feet on snow. "Eight years ago Fate gave us a warning. Fate told us that the time would come when the Pillars would fall."
Valeda felt a surge of pride at how confident Elsie sounded. No matter the odds, Elsie Delgora was going to do as she believed was right. The woman was uncompromising and unabashedly herself. There wasn't another witch in all of Magnellum who could deny her that.
"You've all heard the rumors," Elsie said. "Some of you have even had to evacuate your homes due to the crumbling Pillars. You know that it has already started."
Several of the Witches began to protest, but Elsie overrode them all by removing her glove and lifting her tattooed arm.
"Magic is dead!" she proclaimed.
The Untalented in the crowd rose up at this, silencing the Witch-Born and demanding to know more. The entire courtyard teemed with urgent voices, alarmed families trying to locate each other and a great many Witch-Born simmering in anger. Elsie ignored them all and plunged through her speech.
"The Pillars are falling! One by one they are crumbling. The Wild is coming and we must stand united to face it."
"How?" several voices rang out.
"In Delgora there is an ark. It will keep some of you safe. I beg of you, send your children and your women to safety. Do not delay! The enemy is approaching . . ." Elsie said.
"The enemy has been hammering at the Pillars for years!" Morgana Agoston said and climbed the stairs onto the platform. "Ignore Lady Delgora. She has gone mad."
Whatever else might have meant to follow Morgana's statement was lost. A massive vine shot up from the ground, hurling rocks and dirt through the air. It bent and swiped at the screaming crowd, scattering bodies in its wake. Valeda stepped forward, too stunned to recognize fully what she was seeing.
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 describ
ed 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.
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