Eternal Magic

by C. N. Crawford

  F.U. struggled against his grip. “My mother is a follower of Emerazel.”

  Bael shook his head, gripping her tightly. “I saw the void in her eyes. She’s a follower of Nyxobas.”

  “N-no…” F.U. stammered. “My mother would never betray King Midac. She loved the queen.”

  Bael looked at the queen’s body where it lay on the floor. The handle of the steak knife still protruded from her chest.

  The rising of Bael’s wings behind him cast a dark shadow over Ursula, and she pulled herself from his grip.

  Flames began to rise around them.

  Chapter 27

  Ursula opened her eyes slowly. Outside, storm winds howled around the cabin, and the fire crackled in the stove. She was pretty much naked, apart from her lacy bra and knickers. Bael lay next to her, his eyes closed, his mouth no longer pressed to her wrist. Her hand lay on his chest, and as she started to move it away, his eyes opened: two orbs, the color of blood.

  “Ursula,” he said, his voice rough. His body was full of tension, like it was taking every ounce of his strength to keep himself from tearing her to pieces. Slowly, he began to push himself up.

  Ursula remembered his broken body. “Don’t move.”

  She looked at his legs—the ripped flesh and shattered bones now completely healed over. His hips looked aligned. She might have turned him into a cannibal with a personal fixation on her blood, but at least she’d healed him.

  She looked again, and fear prickled through her. Bael’s legs were no longer bound with rope. Before she could scoot out of range, Bael grabbed her by the waist, his fingers gripping her tightly. He pulled her to his muscled chest, pure steel, and his blood-red eyes bored into her.

  Her blood raced through her veins. She was acutely aware of every inch of skin that touched him, her breasts pressed against his chest.

  She was also aware that he could rip her throat out at any moment, but she couldn’t seem to focus on anything except his powerful body under hers, his fingers on her waist. His breath warmed her neck, his mouth dangerously close to her throat. Without entirely realizing what she was doing, she arched her neck in a silent invitation. She intuited that she had to let him take control right now, to give in to what he wanted.

  His teeth skimmed her throat. “You healed me,” he growled. “With your blood.”

  She felt her hips pressing against him. “There wasn’t any other way.”

  “I told you to get help.”

  The first time he had drunk from her, he’d become bestial and demonic. This time he seemed more in control. Maybe Xarthra’s blood is still helping him.

  Ursula touched his cheek. “I saw you. In the battle of Mount Acidale. We’ve met before.”

  Bael’s voice purred against her throat. “What are you talking about?”

  “I saw your memory, after my mother attacked the queen. I was there. Abrax tried to attack me, but you parried. I tried to kill you. You let me live. So consider us even.”

  Bael’s breath was hot on her cheek, and his sandalwood scent curled around her like a dangerous caress. Ursula’s skin heated. His eyes had faded to a pale gray again, now full of questions. His skin felt smooth against hers, and the entirety of her world narrowed to every point of contact between them—the tops of her breasts skimming against his chest, his fingers possessive on her waist. She wanted them to move lower, to explore her body.

  As if reading her thoughts, Bael pressed his mouth to hers in a searing kiss. She parted her lips, her tongue brushing against his. Her skin heated, chest flushing, and molten heat pooled in her core. She hooked her leg around him, silently demanding more from him. She felt as if her breasts were swelling, her body readying itself for him.

  For just a moment, he pulled away from the kiss. “I love you, Ursula,” he said. His voice was perfectly even, like this statement was nothing more than a comment on the weather outside. But as she looked into his gray eyes, she knew this couldn’t be further from the truth. With this statement, he was telling her his devotion was complete. With these simple words, he was telling her he would follow her to the ends of the earth, that he would protect her in any way she desired, that he would die for her if he had to.

  She held his gaze. “I love you too.”

  Bael pulled her close again, enveloping her in his arms. His dark, powerful magic whispered over her skin, and his chest swelled with each breath.

  Ursula laced her fingers through his thick hair, and warmth surged within her. She wanted him to tear off the last scraps of fabric between them, to press his mouth to her breasts. She unhooked her bra, letting her nipples brush against his body, and she felt his muscles stiffen as he tried to restrain himself.

  He pressed his mouth to her neck, teeth skimming her throat, until his warm tongue replaced it, swirling over her skin. As Bael’s hands slid upward along the curve of her ribs, she let out an involuntary moan. Her breasts brushed against him as they kissed, her nipples hardening. Gently, he pushed her onto her back. Of course he wanted to be in control here. He ran his hand down her body until it reached her panties, and she lifted her hips as he pulled them off.

  His eyes drank in her naked body, hungry and desperate, swirling with dark shadows. He was fighting hard to restrain himself. She didn’t want him to hold back. She wanted him to completely unleash himself on her. She reached for him, pulling off his boxer briefs.

  “Ursula,” he started to say, but bhe arched her back, her legs falling open to entice him.

  A low, animal growl escaped his throat, and Bael let go of his restraints. He gripped her hips, his mouth hot and possessive on her neck. She gasped as he filled her.

  “Bael…”

  Heat suffused her. Not the burning pain of Emerazel’s fire, but a fever that threatened to overwhelm her very being as they moved together. Bael’s breath was hot in the cusp of her ear. An incandescent flame lit in her very core until pure ecstasy claimed her mind.

  Chapter 28

  Wearing nothing but her underwear, Ursula stood by the wood stove, stirring a pot of stew. Bael sat on the bed, his jacket slung over his shoulders for warmth. In his lap, he held Ursula’s torn shirt. He’d found a needle and thread on one of the shelves, and he’d busied himself by carefully stitching a patch onto the shoulder.

  “How long do you think this storm will last?” asked Ursula.

  “The wind is beginning to wane. I think it will finish tonight,” said Bael.

  Her stomach rumbled. “Good thing we’ve got food here.” The thick stew was just beginning to bubble. “I think it’s hot. Are you hungry?”

  “I’m starving,” said Bael. “That smells amazing. How did you manage to cook it?”

  “I opened the cans, dumped the contents into a pot, and heated it up. It’s very complicated. Someday I’ll show you my technique.” Ursula filled two ceramic bowls with steaming stew, then brought them over to Bael. She sat next to him, eagerly digging in. Maybe it wasn’t a complex recipe, but it tasted delicious all the same.

  After a few minutes of eating in silence, she said, “I don’t understand how you were able to resist the old way. Last time you consumed my blood, you nearly killed me.”

  “Xarthra’s blood acts as an antidote. I’ll need more, but for the time being, I’m in control.”

  “That’s handy, considering we’re trapped in a small space for now.”

  Bael slid his stew onto the table, then handed Ursula the shirt he’d been patching. “Try this on when you’re ready.”

  Ursula pulled on the shirt and buttoned the front. All the holes had been fixed, and it fit perfectly.

  Bael rose and crossed to the door. He cracked it open, and a burst of snowflakes blasted into the cabin, followed by icy wind. Night had fallen outside, but Ursula could see that snow had piled at least halfway up the doorframe.

  Ursula’s heart sped up. “Bael,” she whispered, “I think we’re trapped here. There’s four feet of fresh snow out there, and the avalanche destroyed the path bac
k to the chalet. We can’t go back that way.”

  “We’ll find a way around,” said Bael absently. All of a sudden, his gaze seemed intent on one of her hands, and he crossed to her and lifted it to inspect it.

  “Care to tell me what you’re doing with my hand?”

  He met her gaze, holding up her hand like it might be diseased. “I’m trying to understand how you’re able to wield a sword with something so small.”

  She dropped her soup onto the table, and pulled Bael back down to the bed.

  Even curled up next to Bael, Ursula could tell the cabin was freezing cold. Propping herself up, she looked to the stove. The barest wisps of smoke rose from the remains of the fire. Next to her, Bael slept soundly, completely unmoving.

  Wrapping her sweater around her bare shoulders, she climbed out of bed. As Bael continued to doze, she added some fresh kindling and blew on the coals until flames licked over the twigs. She crouched in front of the open stove, alternating between warming her fingers and stoking the embers.

  “Thanks for starting the fire,” said Bael from the bed.

  “No problem.”

  A moment later, she felt Bael’s arm on her shoulder as he crouched next to her, and she leaned into him.

  “How did you sleep?” she asked.

  “Like a man saved from the brink of death.” He raised his arms over his head. “But I think we can try leaving now.”

  Ursula rose and pulled on her dried clothes. Bael had patched everything, and while they wouldn’t be as warm as before the avalanche, they were at least waterproof again.

  Fully dressed, Bael reached for two strange-looking objects that stood next to the door. Made of fresh saplings, they looked like a failing final project for Basket Making 101.

  “What are those for?”

  “You haven’t seen a pair of snowshoes before?”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “Those are snowshoes?”

  “The owners of this cabin didn’t see fit to leave any behind. While you slept, I slipped out and made some. Here, give me your foot.”

  While she stood by the door, Bael crouched down, tying the improvised snow shoes to her feet. They were a little wide, forcing Ursula into a sort of bowlegged gait, but when she stepped out into the snow, she found that she only sank in a few inches.

  “These are amazing!” She clomped in a small circuit.

  Bael appeared a moment later, a larger pair affixed to his feet, “Are you ready?”

  “Slightly reluctant to leave our little haven, but yes.”

  They hiked back toward the path of the avalanche. The storm had smoothed everything out, turning the ice-scarred snow into a veritable winter wonderland. Ursula was about to start across the field when Bael caught her arm.

  “I don’t think it’s stable.”

  “Oh right,” said Ursula immediately, feeling foolish.

  Bael looked up at the cornice, and shook his head. “Unfortunately, I think our way home is over the top of that monster.”

  Ursula gaped at him. “You want to hike up there?”

  “I don’t see any other way.”

  “What about continuing further along the path, past the cabin?”

  Bael shook his head. “I investigated it this morning. There’s another exposed snowfield. If we want to find the dragon, we need to go up.” Without waiting for Ursula to respond, he started up the side of the snowfield, sticking to the trees.

  Ursula followed behind, her makeshift snowshoes crunching over the snow. They walked through the pine forest. Above them, fresh snow weighed down the tree boughs, sparkling in the sunlight. The rising sun lit a bluebird sky, and sunlight glinted off tiny snowflakes still suspended in the air. It felt like magic, even if it wasn’t.

  With aching legs, Ursula climbed beside Bael for hours. It must have been about noon when they reached the top of the forest. Bael handed her his canteen, and she took a long drink of the ice-cold water.

  Ursula stared at the towering cornice. “So do you know a path over it?”

  Bael shook his head, his gray eyes thoughtful. “I was hoping we might find a crack we could slip through.”

  Ursula scanned along the ice, but it appeared to be a single sheet of uninterrupted cliff.

  “Looks pretty smooth to me,” she said. “We’ll need to climb it.”

  “We don’t have the right equipment. You’d need crampons, a rope—”

  “Or a pair of hands that can melt handholds right into the ice?” Ursula channeled flames into her hand.

  Bael’s eyebrows rose in admiration. “Do you think that would work?”

  “I know it will,” said Ursula. “I used these very hands to climb out of a deep tree-well before I saved you.”

  Chapter 29

  About fifty yards of snowfield lay between the edge of the forest and the cornice. If a chunk of cornice broke off, they would immediately be swept away by sliding snow. Assuming they weren’t crushed by the cornice itself.

  Bael held a finger to his lips, then started across the snowfield.

  After a few agonizing minutes, they reached the bottom of the ice cliff.

  “I’ll start climbing first,” whispered Ursula. “Then you follow along behind me, using the handholds that I make.”

  She crouched, then channeled flames into her fingers. Steam hissed from the ice as she carved holds at knee level, waist level, chest level, and then a pair just above her head.

  Grabbing onto the holds above her head, she slipped her feet into the hollows at the base of the cliff. Once her feet were solidly in place, she reached up higher and melted a new hold. Slowly, she began to scale the cliffside.

  She’d worried about being cold, but there wasn’t any wind, and the sun warmed her back. If anything, she felt a little hot. The cliff sloped out, and her forearms began to burn as she climbed, Bael following behind her.

  How much farther do I have? She leaned back, but the lip of the cornice obscured her view. It could be only a few more feet, or it could be three hundred. Her arms shook with the effort of holding on. She glanced down, her stomach immediately clenching. It was at least one hundred feet to the snowfield from here. Too far to drop safely. The only option was up, assuming her arms could keep up.

  She pressed on, one hand at a time. Her arms felt like they were on fire. Slowly, more and more blue sky appeared above her head. With a final push, fatigue burning her muscles, she pulled herself over the lip of the cornice. She lay on the snow for a few minutes, catching her breath under the bright blue sky. She crawled to peer over the edge of the cornice, and she caught sight of Bael looking up at her, thirty feet below on the snowy cliff face.

  She waved, afraid to shout. Bael waved back, then disappeared under the edge of the cornice as he climbed up the curve. Ursula sat back. Her forearms ached, and she rubbed them through her jacket.

  She stood, slowly turning to survey the scene at the top of the cliff. Another snowfield, but flatter and without a looming cornice. At least I don’t have to worry about avalanches. A cold wind blew over the snow, exposing the ice in some places, shifting it into enormous drifts.

  At the far end of the snowfield, a rocky cliff of brown basalt rose a thousand feet up the side of the mountain. She squinted. A thin tendril of smoke seemed to rise from the very base of the cliff. Hope and fear thrilled within her. Was this the dragon’s lair?

  Ursula turned back to the cornice to check on Bael’s progress. As she did, the crack of breaking ice blasted through the silence. Ursula’s heart leapt into her throat, but a moment later, Bael hoisted himself up onto the snowfield in a puff of snow.

  Bael rose, his face pale. “Ursula,” he shouted. “Run!”

  What is he doing?! He’s going to set off an avalanche. But the snow beneath her was already moving. A sharp report rang out, like the sound of a cannon firing, as the ice ruptured. Ursula turned to run as the cornice began to break up beneath her feet.

  In front of her, a chasm formed in the ice. She sprinted toward it, the gr
ound under her feet sloping upward as it began to fall toward the snowfield three hundred feet below.

  She leapt when she reached the edge, hurling herself toward the side of the newly forming cliff face. Even as she pushed off, she knew she wouldn’t make it over the wide expanse. She began plunging downward, her fingers raking along the ice. She channeled Emerazel’s fire into them, trying to make handholds, but her superheated fingers only served to carve gouges that she couldn’t grip.

  She slammed into a protruding chunk of ice, tearing her jacket. White-hot pain lanced her chest, and she knew that she’d broken ribs. Still, the icy protrusion had stopped her fall, and she managed to carve a hold before she slipped off completely into the abyss.

  Below her, the chasm expanded, deepening into an icy crevasse. The chunk of cornice continued to tilt away from her. For a few moments, it looked like it might slow—until it fell away with an enormous crack.

  Ursula clutched tightly to the hold she’d carved in the cliff, as the chunk of cornice slammed onto the snowfield below her, releasing a great cloud of snow into the air. It looked soft as eiderdown as it bloomed toward her in the afternoon sun. Then the roar of the avalanche hit her, shattering the moment of peace.

  She could only imagine the unseen horror unfolding within the cloud as the cornice disintegrated into a thousand blocks of ice. As the flakes settled, Ursula scanned the snowfield frantically for any sign of Bael. She couldn’t find so much as a mitten or hat darkening the barren expanse of ice and snow.

  “Bael!” she shouted, ignoring the danger of another avalanche. Only the echoes of her own voice greeted her.

  She winced as she surveyed her position. She lay on her side on a thin ledge. With one hand, she clutched a hold she’d melted into the ice. Peering down, she had a view of the snowfield—at least two hundred feet below her. Much too far to jump. Craning her neck to look up, she could see the melted scars her superheated fingers had carved in the ice. Above them, the wall of cliff rose sharply to the sky.