Now that I was closer to the source, it was like my body was feeding off the magic around me. I didn’t need oxygen. I was bathing in the source of life.
I supposed this magic was akin to the breath of life that God breathed into Adam’s nostrils after forming him from the clay of the Earth. I wasn’t a strict literalist when it came to the events recounted in Genesis. My denomination was, but in my mind, the message of the creation account mattered more than the details. It was a compelling narrative that detailed the selfless act of a God who lacked nothing choosing to make a world and human beings because it was his nature to love, and love requires an object. Humanity was the product of God’s eternal and selfless love. That was much more significant than debating the length of a day or who the serpent was or who Cain’s wife was.
Maybe it had something to do with my faith, maybe it didn’t. But as the magic swirled around me, the thought was comforting.
I didn’t know what to do. Not exactly.
Before, the only way I could speak to Ensley was out loud. Underwater, for obvious reasons, that didn’t work. Despite my attempts to try to communicate with him via telepathy, none of my thoughts were getting through, at least not clearly. He could read my memories, and I could draw on his mind, so there had to be a way, but tapping into another mind was a surreal experience. You had to silence some of it. Otherwise, you were overwhelmed by new and strange information. But if he did hear me, he wasn’t responding.
I’d charged a fake bronze blade. I’d assumed charging my ring would be similar, but with the advantage of fairy magic, it would happen on a more powerful scale. I couldn’t explain why, but the way I understood it, based on what I was able to pick up from Ensley’s mind, it was like how you compress files on a computer and send complex files using fewer bytes than they held. Somehow, with his fairy power combined with mine, the magic the ring was absorbing was dense, compressed, and nearly boundless.
Unlike the Blade of Echoes, of course, the Ring of Power (I know, the name wasn’t original, but the New Albion elves wouldn’t know that unless they read Tolkien) wouldn’t be able to stab anyone.
I mean, if a cut from a magically enhanced blade would kill anyone except me, apparently, why use a blade? Unless the ancient druid who had done to the blade what I was doing to the ring had known about the prophecy.
Ensley’s thoughts were all over the place. Complex. I’d tried to ignore most of what my mind had gained from our melding.
As I held the ring in the source and Ensley combined his magic with mine, Earth magic spun around me like a tornado, coalescing on the ring.
Still, I couldn’t shake the thought. What if being connected to a fairy mind was how the ancient prophet had gleaned the information integral to the prophecy?
Maybe he hadn’t been a prophet; he just had access to fairy knowledge. Could fairies tell the future? No clue. I’d ask Ensley once we got out of here.
That’s it! Ensley said. Enough magic to bring a dead planet to life!
I held the ring in my hand. I still couldn’t bring myself to put it on. When Bilbo Baggins had put on his Ring of Power, he’d disappeared. The same thing had happened to Frodo. I was not sure what this Ring of Power would do. I just hoped it wouldn’t turn me into Gollum.
No, I couldn’t put it on, and not just because it had once been my wedding ring. I couldn’t help but wonder, like in The Lord of the Rings, if it might do something to me if I dared put it on.
I quickly slipped it back into my pocket, then kicked my way to the surface. I couldn’t talk to Ensley. Did he know what I wanted? I still wasn’t sure he could hear my thoughts. He hadn’t indicated that he understood me.
Maybe he did?
As I kicked up, my eyes glowed again and another portal formed just above us, a few feet before the surface.
Sure, we could have just traveled the ley lines to where we needed to forge the gate, but not without Layla and Brag’mok.
I kicked my way through the gate, then gravity shifted, and I crashed face-first into my apartment floor.
I peered up, and Agnus was looking me in the eye.
“I’d slow-clap right now, but you know, paws suck for that.”
I rubbed my nose. It had taken the brunt of my fall, and touching it was causing my eyes to water. I hoped it wasn’t broken.
“Did you do it?” Brag’mok asked, his gravelly voice taking my attention from my aching snot locker.
I nodded, reached into my pocket, and held the ring in my hand as I stood up.
Then I threw my voice a few octaves higher. “My precious!”
“Can I see it?” Brag’mok asked.
I closed my hand around it and clutched it to my chest. “Nasty giantses wants to takes it from us!”
Brag’mok looked confused. Layla cocked her head to the side. They didn’t get it.
Agnus was cracking up, rolling on the floor. I nearly forgot he’d been there watching those movies alongside me. I was glad I wasn’t the only one who found the situation amusing.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Another fairy gate, this time to the intersection of the ley lines at the confluence of the Meramec and the Mississippi. That was where the gate would be formed.
The original druids hadn’t traveled from the middle of Missouri. They had left from somewhere around Wales in what had once been called Albion. There, the intersection of ley lines was marked by stone circles. In North America, there were probably other ley lines I wasn’t aware of, but two of them corresponded with these two rivers.
The magical phenomenon that occurred where the ley lines intersected made a portal between worlds feasible. While no one knew for sure who had formed it, there was a gateway here that had previously opened only during full moons.
But we had fucked with the magic that coalesced at the gate by destroying the Blade of Echoes at the deepest part of the spring, where we had direct access to the source of Earth’s magic. We’d supercharged the ley line and blown the gate open. When B’iff’s body was removed from the spring, the source went into a temporary brownout. The gate closed, and we weren’t sure when or if it would open again.
But with a little fairy magic and some happy thoughts, we were confident we could open it. The fairies, in fact, in conjunction with ancient druids, had done it before. We could do it now.
At least, that was the hope.
This time, thanks be to God, Ensley’s gate set us onshore.
So much had happened here just a few months earlier. It seemed like yesterday when Hector had stabbed himself with the fake blade. When I destroyed it and thereby killed him.
Part of me felt bad about that. I mean, while all I did was overcharge a fake blade, since Hector’s soul had attuned to it, I’d killed him.
Didn’t matter how evil someone was. That was the sort of burden that would weigh on someone’s conscience. So far, I’d mostly avoided dealing with it—out of sight, out of mind. But coming back here flooded me with all the emotion of the incident.
To be honest, when I’d heard that Hector was back and alive on New Albion, part of me was relieved—until I’d heard he’d assassinated the king. Then I had been conflicted. After hearing that all of the above had been a ruse conducted by fairies, I wasn’t sure what I felt. Human emotions were fickle that way, and I’d never been particularly attuned to mine. Sure, I felt things. I got happy and sad like anyone else. Give me ice cream, I get happy. I finish the ice cream, I am sad it’s gone.
See, real emotion.
But when feelings get complex, when they deal with matters of life and death, I have a hard time defining what I feel. Maybe it was because I’d done so many funerals, I became jaded about death. I’d so often had to be the one comforting those mourning that it had become mundane.
Or perhaps it was because I’d lost a close friend when I was eighteen. We had been college roommates. When that happened, I took comfort from my religion. It was what ultimately led me to decide to become a minister. That was before
I knew squat about my denomination, the politics behind it all, the infighting, and the dogmatism. Now I wasn’t sure how I felt about much.
I was just numb most of the time when it came to emotions.
I think that was one reason I used to drink. I couldn’t handle emotions I didn’t understand and couldn’t control. Alcohol gave me an out. I didn’t have to deal with my feelings when I was shit-faced. But it became a vicious cycle to drown those feelings, then they came back like a flood later, which meant more drinking, more forgetting.
AA had helped me come to grips with my emotions. My sponsor’d had me read a letter to my old roommate at his gravesite. It had been a healing experience.
I still didn’t have a full grip on my emotions, but I was at peace with the loss of my friend. I forgave him. Yes, that was something I had to do. I’d built up resentment through the years because he’d left me. I know it sounds selfish, but it was real.
But this with Hector and Layla’s father and all the world-saving I was supposed to do, it wasn’t just testing my resolve, it was testing my sobriety.
I didn’t want to drink. I didn’t think I would be at risk of that ever again, but there is something they call a dry drunk when you’re acting self-centered and cold, practicing escapism rather than confronting the truth of any given situation. I was close to that, and I didn’t like it.
Layla put her hand on my shoulder. “A lot happened here.”
I nodded. “I think that’s why I haven’t been able to come back. Better to pretend none of that happened than have to deal with the fact that I killed someone.”
Layla nodded. “Killing isn’t easy to deal with. You never really get over it.”
“You’ve killed?” I asked.
Layla nodded. “When you grow up in a kingdom that has been in a perpetual state of war for generations, it’s par for the course.”
“But you are a princess,” I said. “Why would the king’s daughter have to kill anyone?”
Layla shrugged. “I was also trained as a warrior. Not all women are, but I was. I insisted.”
“We’ve all done it,” Brag’mok said. “She’s killed giants. I’ve killed elves. It’s surreal that we’re standing here together, all fighting for the same thing.”
Layla nodded and chuckled under her breath. “It is.”
“Are we ready to do this?” I asked. “Ensley is chomping at the bit.”
I think he was as eager to try it as I was to see him do it. He’d never forged a gate between worlds, combining human and fairy magic. I mean, fairies and humans haven’t mixed well for centuries, not since the druids left. Hell, there weren’t a lot of humans who believed fairies existed now or ever had, much less those who worked with fairy magic.
I suppose there was the occasional pagan or druid revivalist who has dabbled with things like that, but I didn’t know anything about it. From what I could glean from Ensley’s memories, he’d never worked with anyone like that either.
“Where will this gate take us?” I asked. I wasn’t sure if I was asking Ensley since he was the one manipulating the magic needed to create the gate or if I was asking Layla and Brag’mok, who’d been through the old gate. I suppose I was just throwing the question out there so one of them could answer. I didn’t want to be taken off-guard this time and end up emerging from the gate underwater again without being prepared for it.
“The previous gate opened deep in a cave on New Albion, one you could only access from the top of a mountain.”
Brag’mok grunted. “That was why neither the elves nor the giants could claim the gate for themselves. Accessing the gate meant nearly a day’s journey since it was removed from civilization.”
“We placed outposts out there to guard the gate, but it was not feasible. There just isn’t any room for legions to remain up there for a long period. To take a legion through, they’d have to march through narrow paths and caverns single-file.”
“And if it’s difficult for elves to maneuver, imagine how hard it is for us since some of us are twice their size.”
I nodded. “Makes sense, I suppose.”
“It’s for the best,” Brag’mok said. “It is not right that either race should own the gate. Of course, now that it closed on the other side, the chances of us finding anyone near the gate when we go through are slim to none.”
I nodded. “Well, I suppose that’s good news, all things considered. If we have to fight, we’ll be ready.”
“You’ll be ready,” Brag’mok said.
I rolled my eyes. “You’ve taught me fewer moves than I can count on my fingers and toes. How can I hold my own against warrior elves who’ve trained their whole lives?”
“Remember who you are,” Layla said. “The magic you wield is powerful.”
“On Earth,” I said. “But on New Albion? I don’t know.”
“It’s a good point,” Brag’mok said. “Which is why we need to bring the ring to the ley lines as soon as possible, and we need to hope we’ll avoid any confrontations with the elves along the way.”
Layla nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”
Agnus was curled up in Layla’s arms. “A plan? To hope we avoid elves? That’s a matter of luck. Good fortune is your plan?”
“Would you rather we had bad luck?” I asked.
“Of course not,” Agnus said. “But you should have a plan in case things don’t go according to plan.”
“If you must,” Brag’mok said, “draw on your fairy’s magic but do not use the magic contained in the ring. Not until it’s been committed to the ley lines.”
I nodded. “I’ll try to remember that.”
I was the only one who didn’t have any weapons. Layla had her bow and a full quiver of arrows. Brag’mok had a giant hammer—think sledgehammer but five times larger. In his hands, the thing would be devastating.
Images of the Gallagher sledge-o-matic came to mind, except with heads rather than watermelons.
All I had were a couple of guns: my right and my left. Okay, maybe “guns” was overstating it. I’d only been working out for a few weeks, but I was now wearing tighter shirts to show them off. As Jag had pointed out, my triceps were starting to pop. Since I didn’t have a concealed carry license, I was going to have to start wearing tank tops exclusively. Sure, maybe they were just peashooters at the moment, but they were M-16s in the making.
Still, being the only one of the bunch without a lifetime’s worth of combat training, it seemed I should have something more. You know, just in case.
Hopefully, I wouldn’t need any weapons anyway.
We’d cast the Ring of Power into New Albion’s ley lines and, ideally, let Brag’mok and the other giants take over. They’d worry about trying to get B’iff’s body back. They’d fight the elven legions and hopefully prevent them from coming to Earth.
My stomach was in knots, but not in a bad way. I was excited to see New Albion, truth be told.
As far as I knew, I’d be the first human to set foot on another planet since the ancient druids had come to New Albion.
“All right,” I said. “You ready to do this, Ensley?”
I’m as ready as I’ll ever be!
“Is there anything I need to do?” I asked.
Pull your left earlobe.
“What?” I asked.
Just do it.
I pulled my left earlobe.
“All right, now what?”
Nothing! Did you think that would do something?
I grunted. “Then, why?”
Just seeing how compliant you’ll be. Silly human.
“Seriously,” I said. “What do you need me to do?”
Just focus on where the gate was the last time you saw it. I’ll do the rest.
I took a deep breath and tried to visualize the portal. If I focused, I could sense the magic coursing through the ley lines. I imagined the magic swirling in golden hues deep beneath the muddy rivers’ waters as it had before.
Then blinding light flashed from
my eyes, like before but brighter. The tingle coursing through my body was even more intense. I had to admit the feeling was addictive, even more so than the buzz I’d spent years chasing after my first drunk. But this was different. I felt more alive, more in control of not only my body but the world around me. I wasn’t oblivious to my surroundings; I was hyper-aware as if every tree near us was speaking to me, encouraging me. I felt emotions, real emotions, the kind I used alcohol to drown out, but when my magic aligned with Ensley’s, I was at peace with everything I sensed.
So much was going on in my mind. Sensations consumed me, Ensley’s memories and knowledge now readily accessible but not, in this state of mind, overwhelming.
It wasn’t that the fairies hated humans. Or elves. They mourned for us. They lamented our isolation. Isolated from the Earth, the ground from which we were made, from the magic that had vivified us as creatures bearing the divine image. At least, that was how I understood Ensley’s thoughts once I’d filtered them through my worldview.
More plainly, we humans had potential we wasted, a capacity for good we too often neglected, and a connection to the Earth envied by every other species that we ignored.
So much was going on in my mind that I was almost oblivious to the luminescent gateway that Ensley was blasting open in the water.
It was more marvelous than before, even after we’d over-charged the gate and blasted it open.
Woot! Ensley exclaimed.
I laughed out loud. “Woot?”
Layla and Brag’mok shot me confused stares.
“Is it done?” the giant asked.
I nodded. “Who wants to go first?”
“Not me!” Agnus protested.
“Sorry, buddy,” I said. “I know you don’t dig baths.”
“I promise,” Layla said. “Once we hit the water, you won’t even realize it. The gate will pull us through, and we’ll be dry on the other side.”
Old Dogma New Tricks (The Elven Prophecy Book 2) Page 22