Primeval Magic (Demons of Fire and Night Book 3)

by C. N. Crawford

  A tall tower loomed over the far end of the courtyard. Elaine strode toward it, and Ursula followed her to a heavy oaken door. Elaine pulled it open, leading Ursula into a narrow stairwell of dark stone, lit by wavering candlelight. A chilly draught curled around her bare feet. She couldn’t stop herself from thinking about Bael, and his strange reaction to the words Mount Acidale. She had to restrain herself from hunting him down in Avalon and demanding answers from him.

  After two floors of stairs, they reached an archway, and Elaine led her to a hall, its arched ceiling sharply peaked. Candles in sconces cast dancing light over the hall. After some twenty feet, Elaine stopped at a door and turned the knob, beckoning Ursula inside.

  As soon as she stepped inside, Ursula’s body began to relax. In the large, circular room, a fire burned in a large fireplace, and the scent of woodsmoke filled the air. A girl knelt at the fireplace, her hair sandy blonde, a smattering of freckles across her round face. An old halberd hung above the mantle, and Ursula tucked that fact away in her mind for later use. Perhaps it would come in handy.

  The girl rose, smiling at Elaine. “You’re back already?” She frowned at Ursula, and after a moment, her jaw dropped. Something about Ursula seemed to have unnerved her.

  “I’m Ursula.”

  The girl stared, mouth gaping.

  “That’s Linnet,” said Elaine. “One of our novices.” After giving Linnet a sharp look, Elaine pointed at a stairway in the shadows of the room, framed by two tapestries. “Your room is upstairs. Follow me.”

  Ursula followed Elaine up the stairwell and through another wooden door into a smaller room. Moonlight streamed through a narrow window onto a single bed, and a candle guttered on a simple wooden dresser.

  “This is the guest room,” said Elaine, turning to the dresser. “Tomorrow, you will meet the queen. She likes to fly Kree from the top of the tower in the afternoon. You will want to wear something warm.”

  Ursula raised her eyebrows. “Kree?”

  “The queen is very keen on hawking. Kree is her favorite gyrfalcon. Tomorrow I will fetch you, and you will join us at the mews.”

  The mews. Hawking. Handmaidens. What the hell was she doing here? She’d come here for one reason alone—to find out about the dragons. Now she also wanted to find out about Mount Acidale, but instead, she was being sequestered in a room with some sort of hawking plans and a visit with a queen.

  “Elaine. It’s very important that I find Kester. Can you please tell me what you know?”

  Elaine stared at her for a long moment, then turned and crossed to the door. “Goodnight, Ursula, Princess of Darkness.”

  As Elaine closed the wooden door behind her, a cold shudder snaked up Ursula’s spine.

  WHEN SHE’D WOKEN, she’d found a tray of bread and coffee steaming by her bedside. Buttery morning light streamed in through the window. In the light of day, Ursula surveyed her room again, now spotting another door carved into the stone wall.

  She rose from her bed, peering out the window at her view of the castle’s courtyard and, beyond it, the gray, churning sea. She crossed, and pulled open a drawer. Piles of white dresses lay neatly tucked in the drawer, along with some fresh underwear. She pulled on a pair of knickers and a white cotton dress that felt smooth and clean against her skin, and she caught a glimpse of herself in a small mirror that hung over the dresser. She hardly recognized herself with the short bob, but the full night’s sleep had refreshed her, and some pink had returned to her cheeks.

  A pair of flat gray shoes lay next to the dresser, and she slipped into them, then plopped down on her bed to devour her breakfast. Her stomach rumbled, and the fresh, buttery bread made her mouth water. When she’d worked her way through three or four rolls, alternating with coffee, her breakfast was interrupted by a knock coming from that stone door carved into the wall. Maybe she’d finally get some answers about Kester.

  “Yes?”

  The door scraped against the flagstones, and Linnet’s freckled face peered through the door. “I’m to take you to the mews,” she stammered, her face reddening.

  “The mews. Right. The falconry and hawking thing.”

  Linnet gestured to the door, and Ursula followed her into a hall, their footsteps echoing off an impossibly high ceiling. She still had so many unanswered questions about this place. “How did the other women know where to find us?”

  “We are called Nimue’s handmaidens,” she said shyly.

  “All right, how did Nimue’s handmaidens know where to find Bael and me? We weren’t anywhere near the castle.”

  “Lir sent us a message when he heard your call.” She spoke in a small voice.

  “How?”

  “There’s a spell.”

  Ursula glanced at Linnet. “I don’t suppose you know what ‘Princess of Darkness’ means, do you?”

  Linnet merely furrowed her brow at Ursula, her cheeks a deep shade of red, then she looked away without replying. In the main corridor, with its narrow, pointed windows, a draft caught at Ursula’s collar. She hugged herself as Linnet pushed open the door onto the roof of the keep.

  Here a briny breeze whipped over Ursula’s skin and the keep’s roof offered a panoramic view of the kingdom. The valley floor, the slate-gray ocean, the lush apple orchards—and all around, the swirling mist.

  The view was so breathtaking, Ursula nearly didn’t notice the woman standing by a stack of wooden bird cages. Tall and regal, she was dressed in a cloak of white wool, finely stitched with the outlines of apple blossoms. Ursula supposed that at one time her hair may have been dark, but now gray streaked it at the temples. She looked to be maybe fifty years old. On one arm she wore a heavy leather glove.

  “Are you Ursula, the young hound?”

  “That’s me.”

  “I am Nimue, the queen of Avalon.” With eyes as fierce and cold as the gray ocean, she studied Ursula. “Why have you come to visit me?”

  “I am looking for my friend Kester. He has information that I need.”

  The queen’s gaze bored into her. “We know no one of that name.” Her attention flicked away from Ursula as a shadow passed rapidly over head. The queen held out her arm, and in the next moment, a falcon hand landed on her glove, his wings the color of dawn and starlight. The queen pulled a piece of raw meat from her cloak, and fed it to the falcon.

  She knows more than she’s letting on. How could she get on the queen’s good side? “That’s a magnificent bird.”

  The queen’s sharp features softened. “Have you ever seen a gyrfalcon before?”

  “No, I don’t believe so.”

  “Come here then. Kree is very gentle.”

  As Ursula approached, the falcon gnawed at his meat, completely ignoring her.

  “He won’t mind if you touch his back,” said the queen.

  Ursula reached out, stroking the bird’s soft feathers. “You haven’t had any other visitors? No other hellhounds, or unexpected men?”

  “You are the first to visit in a long time.” The queen pursed her lips, cooing at Kree.

  Ursula couldn’t quite let this go. This was the only lead she had—the only clue to figuring out how to defeat the dragons. The river hag had said he’d come here. Unless… unless the old hag had just been full of shit? And then maybe everything was a lie—her mother’s death, her attempted patricide… How the hell was she supposed to know what was real? “A river hag in the Thames was certain that Kester had come here,” she pressed. “Her name was Agnes.”

  The queen’s brow furrowed slightly. “All I can tell you is that I haven’t seen him. Do you know why he might have wanted to visit?”

  If she wanted the queen to confide in her, maybe she needed to give a little more away. “Yes.” She stared into the queen’s iron-gray eyes. “Dragons have been attacking New York, and Kester thought the answer to stopping them lay in Avalon.”

  “Dragons?” The queen’s brow creased into a sharply, and she straightened. “Linnet, return Kree to his cage, plea
se.”

  Linnet stepped forward, now wearing a glove similar to the queen’s. While she watched the girl pulled Kree from the queen’s arm, Ursula’s mind raced furiously. She needed them to tell her what they knew. “Dragons have attacked New York and London. Much of New York has been destroyed. It’s quite urgent that I find him.”

  The queen leaned forward, sunlight glinting in her eyes. “Do you know why they have appeared?”

  Ursula sucked in a sharp breath. “They’re after me, but I don’t know why.”

  “That is most unusual. Dragons don’t usually take an interest in the affairs of men. Come closer. Let me have a look at you.” The queen pulled off her hawking glove and hooked a finger under Ursula’s chin, lifting it to meet her gaze. She studied Ursula for a long moment. Then, releasing Ursula’s chin, she continued, “Give me your hand.”

  Ursula extended her hand, and the queen took it in her long, delicately tapered fingers. She continued to look at Ursula. Then her grey eyes flashed with a pale green light. The queen’s hand suddenly felt clammy. Ursula tried to pull away, but the queen held her tightly. A damp magic crept over Ursula’s skin. She could taste water on her lips, and the salt of the sea.

  The queen’s eyes flicked back to their normal grey. Her lips pressed into a thin line, her brow razor sharp. Her fear was almost palpable. “You will leave in the morning,” she intoned.

  Ursula pulled her hand away. “I don’t understand. Why?” Was this to do with the whole ‘Princess of Darkness’ thing?

  “This audience is over,” the queen declared. “Linnet will take you to your quarters.” She turned to the girl. “She is confined to her room. Do not allow her to leave. Call the boatman tomorrow morning and have him return her to the portal.”

  Ursula’s stomach clenched. Maybe the queen had the answers to her question about the dragons—but like everyone else around her, she wasn’t letting on. “What are you talking about? What are you afraid of?”

  “A tainted thing,” said the queen, her words dripping with disgust. And with that, she turned and strode across the roof. Before she got to the roof’s end, her body began constricting with the sound of snapping bones and feathery wings sprouted from her back, until she’d taken on the form of a silver and black falcon. She swooped through the air above Ursula, and then out over the sea.

  CHAPTER 12

  L ocked in her room, Ursula passed the hours staring out the window at the churning waves, trying to picture her mother. But when she thought of Mount Acidale, a man’s eyes flickered in her mind—a pale gray, his skin golden—the colors of honeyed light piercing storm clouds.

  A shudder crawled over her skin. Bael? Had she seen him in Mount Acidale?

  It seemed everyone knew more about her than she herself did. Even Bael—supposedly her betrothed—couldn’t bring himself to let her in on the secret. And where exactly was he now, as she sat here locked in this room above the sea?

  When the setting sun began to stain the sky lurid shades of cherry and lilac, a knock sounded at the door, echoing off the stone walls.

  A girl with curly brown hair, tawny skin, and large, mahogany eyes cautiously poked her head in. “Hello. My name is Niniane. I brought you dinner.” She carried a tray into the room, and dropped it on the small table by the bed. It held a large hunk of bread and a steaming bowl of stew.

  Ursula’s stomach rumbled at the rich scent. “Thank you, Niniane,” she said. “Can you tell me where Bael is?”

  “He’s being cared for in the infirmary. He was bleeding badly.”

  “Can I see him?”

  “No.”

  “Fine.” Ursula bit off a hunk of her bread. “But tell them not to heal the wounds on his back, or he won’t be able to get his wings back. It’s very important to him.”

  The girl stared at her, eyes wide.

  Ursula cocked her head. “Is there a reason everyone here is so scared of me?”

  Niniane stared at her with a mixture of fear and fascination. “Is it true that you’re a hound of the fire goddess?”

  “Yes, I’m a hound of Emerazel’s, but they made me give up my fire when I arrived. I don’t have any magic. So unless you believe whatever the queen was scared of, you have nothing to worry about.”

  Niniane visibly relaxed. “I’m only a novice. I don’t have any magic either. But Elaine is teaching me.”

  “What are you learning?” asked Ursula, desperate for conversation at this point.

  “Elaine has taught me the song for calling the rain and the verse of light. I’ve been working on the light spell for ages. Would you like to see it?”

  “I’d be honored,” said Ursula.

  Niniane closed her eyes and spoke slowly in Angelic, carefully enunciating each word. When she finished the spell a small orb appeared in the air. It hovered—a perfect little glowing sphere—for an instant before bursting into a shower of glowing sparks.

  “Oh no!” Niniane’s hand flew to her mouth. “I must have forgotten a word.”

  “I thought it was very good,” said Ursula. “I still don’t know that one myself.”

  “You don’t?”

  “No. I lost my memory when I was a girl. I don’t actually know very much about magic.”

  “Then how did you become a hound?”

  “I’m not sure of that either.”

  “I bet Nimue could help you remember.”

  “I don’t think so,” said Ursula. “She saw something in me she didn’t like. That’s why I’m stuck in here until morning.”

  “Nimue is a good queen,” said Niniane. “There must be a good reason why she asked you to stay in here.”

  Ursula nodded, but this conversation had revived a cold dread that washed over her skin. What had the queen’s magic revealed—what did Nimue know that made her so afraid? The queen, Bael, Emerazel, even Abrax had all sensed it. What was it about her that made them uncomfortable? Bael had practically attacked her when she’d asked him about Mount Acidale.

  Ursula bit her lip. “Have you ever heard of Mount Acidale?”

  The girl’s eyes widened, and she took a step back. “Why do you ask?”

  This time I won’t make the mistake of mentioning that I was born there. “My friend Kester mentioned it a few times,” she lied. “Maybe it has something to do with his disappearance.”

  Niniane’s jaw tightened, and her forehead creased.

  “What is it?” asked Ursula. “How come whenever I say Mount Acidale—”

  “Shhhh.” Niniane put a finger to her lips. “We are forbidden to say the name.”

  “Why?”

  Niniane took a deep breath, the ruddy sunlight glinting in her eyes. “A long time ago there were two cities, Avalon and… the other one. Nimue says it was very beautiful. They existed in harmony for centuries. Then, King Vortigern was crowned.”

  “In Avalon?”

  “No, in the other place.” Niniane took a deep breath. “He never left the castle. He was obsessed with fire magic. He went insane. Then, the demons of darkness descended, and a terrible battle ensued. We’ve never heard from them since. No one knows the outcome of the battle.”

  “No one knows what happened in Mount Acidale?”

  Niniane shook her head.

  “But the queen must have sent message.”

  “Most never return. They say dragons block the roads to… that city.”

  “Like the dragons that attacked New York?”

  Niniane shrugged. “I’m sorry, I have to go.”

  “I don’t understand. Why is everyone here so scared of dragons? Why is it that no one can speak the name of the city?”

  Reluctantly, Niniane turned back to her. “It’s because of the prophecy.”

  “What prophecy?”

  Niniane’s face paled. “I must go. I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m sorry.”

  She hurried out the door, shutting it behind her. Ursula could hear Niniane apologizing again from outside the door—but she also heard the clink of met
al as she locked Ursula in.

  URSULA LAY IN BED, staring at the shimmering canopy of stars through her narrow window. As the sun had set, the mist had cleared and a pale moon had risen in the sky. A deathly quiet enshrouded the castle, and she pulled a blanket over her shoulders, shivering as her breath fogged the air.

  She sat up in bed, glancing at the empty bowl of stew and the few crumbs of bread. Niniane had returned a few hours later to take her to the lavatory. She shuddered at the thought—calling it a lavatory was generous. A more accurate description would be ‘hole in the floor.’

  A fluttering noise turned her head, and Ursula stared as a large, tawny-feathered owl landed on the still. The bird’s golden eyes shone brightly in the darkness. And what do we have here?

  Ursula frowned. “Have you come to keep me company?”

  The owl ruffled his feathers. Then, in a thin, slightly nasal voice, he spoke. “No, I have not.”

  Ursula’s mouth fell open. “Are you a shifter, perchance?”

  He ruffled his feathers again. “I’m sorry, I should have introduced myself first. I’m Taliesin.”

  “You can talk?”

  “Obviously.”

  “I’ve just never seen a talking bird before.”

  Taliesin blinked. “Are you coming? I really must return.”

  Ursula rose, rubbing her eyes, and the night breeze kissed her skin. “Coming where?”

  “Oh, right. I forgot to give you the invitation.”

  The owl puffed his feathers, then lifted one of his taloned feet, offering her a tiny, rolled piece of parchment. With a surprisingly dexterous flick of his claw, he tossed the letter toward Ursula.

  Ursula unfurled the parchment and read it by the silvery light of the moon.

  Dear Ursula,

  I would very much like to make your acquaintance. I have been following your exploits with keen interest, and I must say that it is not often that Avalon is visited by someone as distinguished as yourself.

  I very much hope that you will take the time to stop by for tea. Taliesin will fill you in on the particulars.