In the distance, an explosion rattled the valley. Jax’s skin prickled with apprehension. Bran sent his vassals and a bunch of kids to attack a house that’s magically protected by the very artifact he wants to capture. There was something wrong with that strategy. Not to mention, as soon as the battle began, Bran had taken Addie and left. What is he up to?
On the other side of the bridge, the tracks led to an elevated platform outside a railroad station. Jax glanced around apprehensively. He couldn’t see more than a couple feet or a few seconds ahead, and he fingered his honor blade, seeking information. His talent warned him only a couple seconds before Condor’s head jerked toward a rumbling sound. “On your right, Griffyn!” Condor called.
Out of the fog bank, a gray armored vehicle rolled toward them. Griffyn reacted by throwing a bolt of electricity from his hand. Instead of hitting the vehicle directly, the sizzling bolt struck a rod on the armored roof and was deflected away.
This, Jax knew, was a lightning rod with magical enhancements crafted by Mr. Crandall, whose artisan specialty was working in metal. But Griffyn tried a second time, as if he didn’t understand why his bolt of lightning was hitting the metal rod on top of the vehicle instead of electrocuting the people inside. Jax wondered if news of Benjamin Franklin’s invention had never penetrated Oeth-Anoeth.
Meanwhile, a gun mounted on the armored jeep rotated and blasted the railroad bridge. Debris rocketed in all directions. Jax bent over to shield Brigit and ran downhill, away from the railroad station and toward the town with Stink on his heels.
They could have done that while we were on the bridge, but they waited for us to cross and then cut off our escape route. Griffyn was being coaxed into a prepared trap. The Transitioner forces expected Jax to jump out of the area with the Emrys girls if the danger became too great, whether or not their plan for the Morrigan—and Lesley—came to fruition. But they don’t know I’m forbidden to use the brownie tunnels. I’m gonna be caught in the trap, too.
The armored vehicle advanced on Griffyn, who changed his tactics. He waved his arms, and tendrils of fog whirled in a tight circle, coalescing into a funnel-shaped cloud that sucked in debris from the bridge. The mini-tornado roared as it grew taller, dispersing the fog enough for Jax to see railroad ties yanked from the ground, vinyl siding ripped off the station, and utility poles thrown at the Transitioner vehicle, which reversed and retreated. Flying bits of metal drove Jax to seek shelter around the corner of the first intersection he came to, even though the street was flooded with three inches of water. Stink squeaked in protest and clambered up a street sign.
Out of range of the tornado, fog closed in around him again. Shadowy buildings on either side muffled the sounds of destruction at the train station. Jax counted his companions as they joined him. Gawan was there, along with Kel and his father—and then, thankfully, Evangeline.
He was less pleased to see Condor, Ysabel, and Griffyn right behind her. The tornado could’ve sucked any of them up, as far as Jax was concerned.
“Which way?” Madoc asked.
Griffyn pointed. “Toward the house on the hill. As my father commanded.”
Madoc shook his head in frustration. He knew it was a trap, too.
“Are you all right?” Jax asked Evangeline. She nodded mutely, and Jax’s jaw clenched as he realized that until Griffyn rescinded his order to shut up, Evangeline couldn’t speak. The Sword throbbed on his back, magnifying his fury. “Take Brigit,” he growled from between his teeth, his fingers itching to draw the Sword and end her servitude. But Evangeline’s eyes were focused on something behind him. She grabbed Jax and turned him around.
Dark shapes appeared out of the fog at the end of the street. Something unnatural about the way the shadowy figures moved made Jax recoil. Backing up, he found himself shoulder-to-shoulder with Kel, while Griffyn and Ysabel strode forward to meet the new threat. “Get over here and do your part,” Griffyn snarled at Evangeline when she hung back.
“No lightning!” Madoc yelled. “We’re standing in water!”
Griffyn swore in Welsh. At least he understood that much about electricity, Jax thought gratefully. The Transitioners had probably driven Griffyn this way on purpose to prevent him from throwing lightning, but the strategy wouldn’t have done Jax and Evangeline any good if the barbarian had electrocuted his companions out of medieval ignorance.
The things coming out of the fog didn’t look human. Their arms were long enough for them to move on four limbs like orangutans. Their faces were elongated, their jaws and teeth jutting forward like the muzzles of dogs. Condor stationed himself beside Ysabel, and Evangeline summoned invisible balls of fire to defend Griffyn whether she wanted to or not. Two of the creatures charged Griffyn and Condor, while the third peeled away from the group, dodged a fireball from Evangeline, and went right for Jax. Brigit screamed and hid her face.
Gawan stepped in front of Jax and threw up his hands. A shimmering, transparent barrier appeared between them and the creature, which jerked to a stop with inhuman reflexes. Wild eyes in a bearded face surveyed Gawan and Brigit before settling on Jax—who gasped in shock. Somewhere in that twisted, savage version of a human face, Jax recognized the features of the Transitioner lord, Ash Pellinore.
You’ve heard of werewolves? Sheila Morgan had replied when Jax asked about Pellinore’s talent. If you ever have the chance to see him in action, you’ll never forget it.
Pellinore sniffed, his nostrils flaring. Then he bared his pointed, wolflike teeth and turned to join the fray behind him. Griffyn had struck one of the wild men in the throat with a knife, dropping him short of his target, but the other had tackled Condor, and Ysabel jumped in with her knives to assist him.
Drawing a dagger to replace the one he’d thrown, Griffyn faced Pellinore, crouching with his weapons held low. Pellinore dropped to all fours and charged, but it was only a feint. He leaped over Griffyn and barreled toward Evangeline.
Evangeline hit him full in the face with her remaining fireball.
Pellinore howled, his beard and hair igniting in blue flames. He stumbled to a halt, trying to beat out the fire with his hands, and Griffyn hurled both his knives into the man’s back. Evangeline covered her mouth in horror as Pellinore collapsed at her feet.
The magic barrier Gawan had thrown up to defend Jax broke apart into shimmering pieces, and the little boy sagged.
“Nice work defending your liege with the Sword,” Kel said to Jax, attempting sarcasm in spite of the tremble in his voice. “Oh, wait. You were hiding behind a baby.”
“And you were hiding behind me,” snapped Jax. But Kel was right: carrying Brigit would prevent Jax from serving Evangeline properly. He dumped the child into Kel’s arms. “Don’t let anything happen to her, or you’ll be sorry.”
Ysabel wiped her knives on the shirt of the man who’d assaulted Condor. She looked uninjured, but Condor’s face and arms were bloodied. “He seemed to be the leader,” Ysabel said, pointing at Ash Pellinore, and Griffyn nodded agreement. Ysabel knelt beside Pellinore’s body, placed a hand on his head, and closed her eyes. “His objective was to capture the Emrys heirs unharmed.”
Jax sucked in his breath. “What’s she doing?”
“Talking to the dead,” Kel replied. “That’s what Arawens do.”
“The Transitioners know about the children in our company,” Ysabel went on, pulling information from the dead man’s mind, “and that’s preventing them from using lethal force.”
“This wasn’t meant to be lethal?” Condor muttered, his fingers pressed against a jagged bite wound.
“The scryer tracking Jax Aubrey has been hampered by the fog. Individual operatives, like these men, are scouting for him instead.”
Jax swallowed, feeling sick. Pellinore had been trying to find him and rescue Evangeline. If Jax had recognized the man in time, if he’d alerted Evangeline that he was a friend, not a foe . . . she still would have been bound to follow Griffyn’s orders. Jax told himself it wasn’
t their fault Pellinore had been killed, but it still felt like a betrayal and a failure.
“Where’s the leader of the Pendragon clan?” Griffyn grinned at Evangeline nastily. “I want to return the pieces of his dagger.” Evangeline’s face flushed red.
Ysabel’s eyes remained closed, her hand on Pellinore’s head. “He’s at the Bedivere house,” she said after a moment, “not involved in the fighting.”
Griffyn laughed. “Your former ally is a coward,” he told Evangeline. “Hiding behind the lines.”
Evangeline looked relieved to hear Riley was safely out of the fighting, but Jax bristled with anger. Riley wasn’t a coward. When Sheila Morgan had banned him from the battlefield, he’d argued bitterly against her decision. Much to the relief of Jax and the Crandalls, however, he’d been forced to submit to Sheila’s logic and the vote of the Table. Riley was incapable of using brownie tunnels; he wasn’t trained on most of Sheila’s weaponry, and in this battle his skills were better put to another use. Riley’s talent was the voice of command, but instead of commanding men, he was in charge of an army of four-legged vermin. They were essential to the Transitioners’ strategy, and they obeyed no one else.
“As for you . . .” Griffyn marched over to Evangeline. “I notice you only hit your target when defending yourself. Otherwise, you conveniently miss.” He slapped her across the face.
That was it. Jax didn’t think. Not about the plan. Not about his oath. The smack of Griffyn’s slap hadn’t finished echoing in the fog before Jax’s hand closed over the hilt of the Sword. Yanking it out of its sheath and over his head, he ran toward Griffyn, filled with rage and magic.
He never saw what hit him or even felt the blow. One second his eyes were on Griffyn’s back; the next, his body slammed into the street with a splash, the Sword of Nuadu flew out of his grip, and he was facedown in the water. A hand grasped his hair and pulled his head back. Ysabel leaned over him, her knife hovering near his throat.
By the look in her eye, Jax thought he was a goner. Then Ysabel tossed the knife aside and dug her knee into his kidney while she grabbed his hands and wrenched them together behind his back.
Jax barely registered Griffyn, who was glowering at him in disbelief, or Evangeline’s shocked and frightened expression. He was too busy staring at the Sword of Nuadu, lying in the flooded street out of reach, and wondering how he could possibly have failed when he had a magic sword that was supposed to guarantee his success.
32
TRUDGING THROUGH THE DARK and the fog behind Bran Llyr, Addie kept picturing the horrified expression on Evangeline’s face when she realized that the Old Crone had visited her little sister—had, in fact, changed her. In the legends, things rarely ended well for those favored by the Morrigan. But I was chosen to break the rules and take what I wanted. Maybe I can break the curse of the Morrigan, too.
Evangeline was a rule follower. Addie shouldn’t have been surprised that her sister had preserved the Eighth Day Spell when it was almost broken by Wylit. Neither Evangeline nor their mother had been happy when their father was working on a counterspell all those years ago. Addie figured she was the only Emrys with the same rebellious temperament as her father, which was ironic, because she’d been his least favorite child. Evangeline had been the perfect one, and Elliot had been the boy . . .
Remembering Elliot, she should have resented how Jax seemed to have taken her brother’s place with Evangeline, but Addie had to admit he was growing on her, too. She didn’t know if it was the magic of the vassal bond, or if Jax was just that likeable. Nevertheless, she wasn’t going to jump into a brownie hole on his say-so. Jax’s idea of safety probably meant running back to the Dulacs, who’d locked her up and stolen her blood, or to the Pendragons, with whom her sister had been inexplicably allied even though they’d killed Evangeline and Addie’s parents.
No, Addie needed to stick to her plan, which meant following Bran a little longer.
Bran led her to the base of the town’s water tower and, after using a gust of wind to blow open a security fence, climbed the ladder up the tower with remarkable agility for his age. Addie tipped her head back to check out the height of the platform around the water tank, then regretted it. She stared straight through the rungs as she climbed, looking neither up nor down, and by the time she made it onto a wooden platform that was wet and slippery from days of rain, she was breathless. It bothered her that Bran was not. Tough old man.
The moon was out in full now, and the water tower stood above the fog. She couldn’t see the river or the town below, as they were blanketed in white, but Bedivere’s huge house was visible on the opposite hillside. Off to the left, in the dense trees on the mountain, she saw flames.
Addie could also see the powerful magic at work tonight. The Spear of Lugh carried by Bran was an intense white beam of focused intention, guaranteeing that he would never be swayed from his course. The Stone of Fal cast a golden glow around the Bedivere mansion like a fire on a hearth—fire that would warm the inhabitants of the house and sear the skin off invaders. Comparing the two Treasures, Addie thought the Stone was probably superior. Bran could be as single-minded as he liked, but unless the Stone was willingly given up, it would protect its owner’s property until the end of the earth. “Your people are never going to take that house,” Addie said.
“No,” Bran agreed. “They will never take the house.”
Addie blinked in surprise. “Then why—”
“We don’t need the Stone itself. Any spell caster besides you, Adelina, would require the physical presence of the Treasures to make use of them. But you only need proximity to magic to claim it as your own. The Stone’s power is yours for the taking here and now.”
“You mean the attack is a diversion? You sent your vassals into battle for nothing?” Addie couldn’t imagine doing such a thing to Jax.
Bran stared across the breadth of the valley at the house. “Launching an assault on Bedivere’s home awakened the magic of the Stone, just as the Spear became active the moment the Morrigan repaired it. When your vassal draws the Sword, you’ll have the magic of all three relics alive at once and at your disposal. You need not have your hands on them to break the Eighth Day Spell.”
“But I don’t know how to cast a counterspell! I can copy any spell or talent I see, but no one has ever shown me the Spell of Making that Merlin used to create the eighth day. I thought you were going to teach it to me!” She’d been waiting all this time for him to instruct her on the ancient spell or introduce her to someone who knew it.
“You don’t need the Spell of Making, and you aren’t casting a counterspell.” Bran leaned down to look Addie directly in the eye. “I have seen you master any magic performed in your presence, and the Eighth Day Spell is all around you. It runs in your veins. You’ve been tapping into it ever since the Morrigan gave you that ability, but you lacked the strength to master it. Your magic was weak.” He snapped his fingers contemptuously, mimicking the trick she’d first shown him. “You were playing with matches instead of learning to create conflagrations. But when you absorbed the power of my Spear to create this fog, look at what you did!” He waved a hand at the white carpet lying heavily in the narrow valley as far as they could see and beyond.
He knew she’d drawn on his Spear for that? Addie had thought he wasn’t aware of it. “My brother died trying to break the spell,” she reminded him. “If I get it wrong . . .”
“Your brother was a child, and I assume he didn’t have the Morrigan’s gift. Adelina Emrys, you already know everything you need to set our race free.” Taking her by the shoulders, he turned her to face the valley. “Feel that power. Draw it into yourself. Use it.”
Was it really as simple as that? Addie gripped the railing to steady herself. When the Old Crone told me to take what I wanted, this is what she meant. With growing confidence, Addie reached out to the blinding-white light that was the Spear. The liquid fire of its ruthless power sharpened her senses and fortified her. It was
like becoming fire.
This much she’d done before.
“This is what we’ve been training for, Adelina,” Bran said, encouraging her. “You had versatility, but lacked the aggression and strength necessary for this task. It was only once you started stealing power from my Spear that you developed a capacity for this level of magic.”
Addie’s skin tingled and itched. She turned her attention to the glow across the valley—the power of the Stone, defending its home. The Spear was like an old friend now; she’d been sneaking sips of magic off it ever since Bran had tortured her with it. Not as secretly as she thought, apparently, but with Bran’s awareness and tacit approval. The Stone was new to her, but she understood it. It offered protection, just as the Spear represented intention. Addie drew on it with her newly defined purpose, devoured it, felt herself swelling almost to the bursting point with it. But she didn’t burst; she expanded.
“That’s my girl,” Bran said in her ear. “Focus now. Do you see the Eighth Day Spell? It’s always been there; you just didn’t have the discernment to see it before.”
Yes, she could see the clouded barrier in the heavens that separated her from the moon and the stars of the seven-day world. But the Eighth Day Spell was more than an encapsulation of time. It was also an intricate tapestry. All the individual Transitioners and Kin were woven into it—the Transitioners only loosely, but the Kin were bound like flies in a spiderweb. And every single one of those people was tethered to Addie Emrys, the anchor for the Spell.
There was a second anchor too. Addie could pinpoint Evangeline’s exact location in the foggy valley by the glittering strands of magic. If Addie had been able to access this magnitude of perception earlier, she would never have believed the Dulacs when they told her Evangeline was dead. She could have found her sister by following the threads of the spell.
Addie could see it now, but could she break it? Even with the power of the Spear and the Stone thrumming through her body, the strands of the Eighth Day Spell were like cables holding up a suspension bridge—flexible, but inconceivably strong. This was not the kind of magic Addie could reach out and take.
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