“Tea, Isolde? Or perhaps something stronger—I think Ada has some sherry tucked away.”
“Thank you,” Isolde murmured. “You may decide.”
Alan took two fussy crystal glasses and a dusty bottle of sherry from the sideboard cupboard and poured two large portions. He offered one to Isolde. She took it, careful not to touch Alan’s hand this time. Alan sat heavily on the couch and gulped half of his sherry in one go. Isolde perched on the edge of the couch and sipped.
“Is it bad?” Alan asked. “The loss of your magic, I mean.”
Isolde nodded.
“I feel empty. I find it difficult to stop trembling from the drain, the loss. I—I don’t know who I am without it.” She took another sip. “The condition should be temporary. Once I have a chance to recover, without the strain of maintaining the realm—I have hope. Without the connection, my fate is no longer tied to the realm’s.” Isolde’s face darkened. “If Corann had not usurped my throne—how could he betray me so?”
Alan took a contemplative sip before he answered.
“Your symptoms, when did they start?”
“A few weeks ago, I suppose.”
“And Corann took over yesterday.” Alan nodded. “The restoration spell, it was meant to be a temporary fix, is that right?”
“Well, yes, but it was working―”
“Who oversees defenses of the realm?” Alan asked mildly. Isolde stared at him.
“Me, of course.”
“And yet, the temporary restoration spell was still the main defense, to the detriment of your health.”
Isolde looked at the floor. Her eyes filled with tears.
“You’re saying it’s all my fault. My illness, the realm disintegrating, all of it.”
Alan said nothing. Isolde dashed away tears with the back of her hand.
“But Corann’s betrayal. How could he do that?” Her voice grew quiet. “I thought he loved me.”
Alan shifted closer to Isolde, who sniffed. He held out a wrinkled tissue for her.
“You say he loves you. Well, when you love someone, you don’t want to see them get hurt. It hurts you when they hurt. You’ll do anything to take their pain away.”
Isolde met Alan’s clear gaze with tear-filled eyes. He watched her, detached yet with a mote of pity.
“You’re saying Corann took over the realm because he couldn’t bear to see me ill. You think he was right to take control.”
“I don’t know about that. But his actions are understandable in that light.”
Isolde stared into the amber liquid swirling at the bottom of her glass for a long moment. Then she put it down on the side table and stood.
“Thank you for the drink, Alan. I shall rest now.”
Alan nodded, and Isolde walked out of the room, her too-large cardigan brushing the couch as she left. Alan finished the remainder of his drink in one swallow.
***
Corann leaned against the back of the wooden throne in the ballroom. The grand room was uncharacteristically empty—no dancers spun on the gleaming parquet floor and no music drifted between the stone pillars. Corann’s fingers ran over carved deer on the armrest, then he shifted as the carvings dug into his back. He squinted at a branch of holly in his lap covered with carefully placed berries and deciphered the message they contained.
A door that led into the castle swung open to discharge three courtiers, two male and one female, in no-nonsense attire. Their slim-fitting trousers, leather coats, and light boots were a sharp contrast to the finery the ballroom was used to hosting. Their apparel was made of fine materials and was clearly expensive, indicating their positions at court.
“My lord,” the woman said, bending her knee in the modified bow used by female Breenan when not in skirts. The men behind her bowed as well. “We have gathered all the eligible warriors of the realm for your army, as you ordered.”
Corann leaned forward.
“How many?”
The man’s brow wrinkled.
“More than we expected, but most are woefully undertrained.”
“It’s been so many generations since we’ve had a proper fighting force, it’s no wonder.” Corann waved his hand in dismissal of the courtier’s concerns. “Numbers are the crucial thing. Fighting can be taught. Start training drills this afternoon. And organize them into fighting groups of three—I want patrols to start within a week. Wintertree has the right idea.”
“But King Faolan combines his patrols with defensive magic garnered from the Wintertree,” said one man.
“And once I’ve tapped into the magic of our realm, we will supplement also,” Corann said with easy assurance. The man opened his mouth to speak, but the bang of a door silenced him. A maid ran toward the group and threw herself into a hasty curtsey.
“My lord, I’m so sorry to interrupt.”
“You may speak,” Corann said with authority.
“It’s in the kitchens. I don’t know what—it’s like nothing I’ve seen before. No one knows what to do.”
“I don’t understand,” said Corann. “Is it an animal?”
“No! Rather a great hole from nothing, to…” The maid spread her hands helplessly.
Corann’s eyes narrowed in thought.
“Take me there.”
The maid led Corann and the three courtiers through the castle door and into a wide hall lined with alternating lengthy mirrors and deep purple curtains made of thick velvet. The maid held open a curtain in the center of the right wall to reveal a stout wooden door hidden behind it. She clattered down a plain wooden staircase unadorned except by a glowing lantern.
The stairs led to a cavernous kitchen, dimly lit by more lanterns and roaring fires in twelve hearths inset in the walls. Cooks and maids bustled about long wooden tables, preparing the next meal.
“It’s in the storeroom,” said the maid they followed. “We’re almost there.”
Another set of stairs led down through a small archway, their stone treads worn smooth by countless feet. The storeroom was packed with crates, barrels of oil, racks of wine, hooks with dried meat, and every other food needed to prepare meals for all the castle inhabitants.
Corann and the courtiers didn’t spare a glance to this vision of plenty. Instead, their gazes were fixed on the portal before them.
Torn fragments of the fabric of the world shimmered around a hole large enough to walk through with ease. The other side, the human world, displayed a packed wall of soil. During the long silence while they stared, a thick worm wriggled out of the dirt and fell to the stone floor. It squirmed.
“It’s a portal,” Corann said at last. “A portal to the human world.”
“It appeared overnight,” said the maid in hushed tones. “No one went down there, cook is certain. And it grows bigger.”
A faint ripping punctuated her words when a strip peeled away from the side of the hole. The maid stepped back and covered her mouth, and the courtiers glanced at each other in alarm. Corann narrowed his eyes, then turned to face the maid.
“You needn’t worry. It’s perfectly harmless. Simply leave it be and continue on with your work.”
The maid curtsied then backed away hastily to the stairs. Corann looked at the gaping courtiers.
“You’re certain it’s safe?” the female courtier ventured before Corann could speak.
“Perfectly.” Corann waved at the portal. “It’s blocked on the human side, so nothing can pass between the worlds.”
“I suppose you would know. You traveled there for Isolde, did you not?”
“I did.”
“Why is it here? Who made it?” The courtier looked worried.
“I expect it’s the consequences of the failing restoration spell,” Corann said. “Isolde put her confidence in the wrong things: first, the portal-making abilities of her half-breed daughter, and second, the spell that the same half-breed wrought for her. It was foolish, and we pay the price.” Corann smoothed his shirt. “Thankfully, with your suppo
rt, I can now set the realm to rights.”
The other three looked reassured.
“Defense with trained soldiers is an excellent start but the people of this realm deserve more,” Corann said. “It’s time I mastered the room of enchantments.”
“Do you think it will work for you?” said the woman doubtfully. “It’s intimately connected to the ruling family. They gathered the windfalls from every type of tree within the realm―”
“Even the tools for carving were crafted from stone from the land,” one of the men added.
“And when they made the room, they infused their own magic in it,” the woman continued. “They, and only they, connect to the realm in deep ways through the power of the room. How do you plan to master it?”
Corann smiled.
“Don’t be concerned. My ancestor was the younger brother of Isolde’s great-grandmother. The room will recognize my right, I’m sure. Go, now, organize the training, and I will bring you good news this evening.”
The others smiled and nodded, then turned to file up the stone steps. When the last disappeared through the doorway, Corann’s confident smile fell from his face and worry creased his brow. With halting steps, he walked back upstairs.
Once in the empty ballroom, Corann moved slowly to a small but imposing wooden door in the wall behind the dais, carved with a medley of woodland animals and curling vines. He stared at the door for a long moment, then reached out and firmly pulled the handle.
The door did not budge. Corann frowned and pulled harder. Nothing happened. It wasn’t until Corann put a foot on the wall and threw his weight back that it finally swung open.
Corann tumbled to the floor then sprang up and looked around. The ballroom was devoid of witnesses, so he strode forward into the room of enchantments. The door slammed shut behind him of its own accord.
The room was the black of a starless night. Corann lifted his arm, and a dim light glowed from lanterns mounted on the walls. They flickered with pale yellow fire.
Corann looked around, a wary expression on his face. He was surrounded on every side by the carvings of countless animals, rendered lifelike by the fluttering light. Lions glowered, wolves sneered, and even deer looked askance at the usurper. The walls pressed close and the wooden ceiling lay low over Corann’s head. A movement caught his eye and he whirled around, but nothing was there. He glared at the carvings, then squared his shoulders and raised his hands. They glowed with molten yellow light that dripped to the massive carved daisy covering the floor.
“I am Corann, descendent of Donovan the Hunter. I am the ruler of the Velvet Woods and I claim my right to use this room of enchantments for the defense of the realm.”
The already dim lanterns darkened to a menacing red and pulsed. Corann looked unnerved but tightened his jaw. More yellow light of his magic poured out of his hands and spread over the petals of the daisy.
The air rippled subtly. Corann narrowed his eyes and sent his magic to the carved walls, where it spread to cover vines and animals alike.
But the room had had enough. The huge daisy heaved and buckled. Corann fell on his side, and three massive petals rose high. Corann rolled uncontrollably toward the door, which swung open to allow his passage. He landed in a heap on the threshold and the door closed with a heavy finality.
Corann leaped to his feet with his hair mussed and his shirt untucked. His fist rose to pound on the door but paused when he noticed the wondering gazes of two fighters passing through the ballroom.
“I’m testing the limits of the room of enchantments,” he called out. “It’s very powerful. I’m pleased—our defenses will be strong.”
The fighters nodded and continued walking. When they disappeared, Corann yanked at the handle. The door didn’t budge. He rested his head on it in despair.
***
Loniel gazed at the scene before him and smiled. The fire burned bright and hot, and drums throbbed in the cold night air. His people leaped and danced around the fire, barefooted despite the snow, their gleaming faces happy, or blissful, or serene. One woman twirled away from the dance and picked up a goblet from a tray. She moved gracefully to his side.
“Won’t you drink and dance with us, Loniel? It is unlike you to be so restrained.”
Loniel took the goblet from her and drank deeply.
“No, it is not. Events are unfolding that cloud my mind.”
“You must heed your own advice.” She took his hand and pulled him playfully forward. “The bonfire is for those who wish to forget their past cares. Leave your worries and woes, for at the bonfire there is only this moment.”
Loniel laughed.
“Quite right. I forget myself.” He drained the goblet and tossed it to one side, then let himself be led to the dancers.
A crashing noise from deep in the forest caused everyone to freeze. They all looked at Loniel with anticipation. Loniel held up his hand, and it hung there, motionless. The crashing grew louder, then there was a shout.
“Hello! Can you help me? Help!”
Loniel bought his hand down in a swift motion. The fire died instantly, dark and cold in a pile of blackened logs. Loniel’s people snatched up trays and drums with practiced silence and slipped away through the trees. Loniel led them as they ran noiselessly after, until they reached another clearing. Drums were hastily placed to the side and dancers arranged themselves in a circle. When Loniel was certain they were ready, he pointed his hand at the center of the circle.
A fire burst to life, roaring and hot as if it had been burning for hours. The drums pounded, and the dancers moved with wild grace.
Crashing in the distance cut through the drums. At a distant shout, the dancers looked to Loniel with mischievous smiles. He raised his hand once more but before he could quench the fire, a shout from a different direction gave him pause. There was another one, and another.
“Hi! Over here!”
“Where are we?”
“Please help me!”
Loniel brought his hand down and the fire died, but his smile had been replaced by a frown. He led his people along a winding track to a different opening in the forest. Another fire was lit, another dance begun, but still the shouts pursued. Loniel sighed.
“Let the humans come. The pleasure is diminished when the sport is too easy.”
His people shrugged and continued to dance around the fire. Some revelers picked up jugs of wine and prepared to greet the humans.
Five of them burst into the clearing, disheveled and wild-eyed.
“We’re lost,” said one woman, her parka zipped up tightly against the cold. “Please, where are we?”
“Right where you should be, right here, right now,” said Loniel calmly. He spread his arms. “Come, warm yourselves by the fire. Eat, drink, rest after your toils. You are welcome here.”
Some looked suspicious, others merely relieved. Wine bearers quickly poured goblets of dark liquid and pressed them into the humans’ hands. As they drank, a blissful expression stole across each face. As one, they dropped to the ground, unconscious.
Loniel gestured to his people. Five men came forward and picked the humans up as they slumbered.
“Come, to the nearest portal. I am weary of this game tonight.”
The men followed Loniel through the forest to a wild boxwood. Loniel passed his hand over it and branches retreated to show a ragged portal. He jumped nimbly through, and the others followed more slowly with their loads.
“Leave them here,” he said. Once the sleeping bodies were deposited in a pile of limbs, Loniel waved his hand and a glowing green dome descended upon the group.
“That will warm them until morning.” Loniel clapped a hand on the shoulder of the nearest man. “Back to the bonfire with you all. Enjoy it in my absence.”
“Where do you go?” asked one as he stepped through the portal.
“There are too many portals, too many humans in our world.” Loniel touched the boxwood and it grew back into place over the portal.
“I must find out more.”
***
Aidan pointed down the train platform.
“This way, Gwen. Have your bag? Good.”
Gwen jogged after him and slipped her hand in his. He glanced at her with a smile.
“This is nice,” said Gwen. “I feel like we’re taking a holiday together.”
“Ha. The transportation will be a little unorthodox from now on. And Faolan is a terrible concierge.”
They pushed through the people lined up for tickets and grouped in clusters in the waiting room until they exited the glass outer doors. Aidan looked around to get his bearings.
“It’s only a few miles. Do you want to make a portal and walk from here? I don’t want to miss Faolan’s city.”
Gwen glanced around until she spotted a solid cement partition leading to a loading bay.
“Let’s make the portal over there. It looks empty.”
They sauntered over, then ducked behind the partition when nobody was looking. Gwen spread her hand toward Aidan.
“It’s all yours. Go for it.”
“You don’t want to?”
“Isolde’s in the human world,” said Gwen with a shrug. It still felt wrong for Isolde to be here. “I can’t make a portal without my anchor, remember? There’s no one on the other side for me to visit.”
“Oh, right.” Aidan rolled his shoulders and held out an arm.
“Not too big,” Gwen said. “Who knows how long it will take to close.”
“Right,” Aidan said again. His eyes closed, and a moment later a portal appeared in midair, no larger than the width of Aidan’s shoulders.
“Nice. Ready to go back?”
“Let’s do it,” said Aidan.
A ripping noise interrupted his words. Aidan’s perfectly round portal was now oblong, with a strip dangling from the base of the circle. Gwen gasped.
Breenan Series Box Set Page 52