The old man cried out.
“He was in the caves with Anaise and Princess Gyda,” Svenson said.
Etheldreda glanced across the longhouse where Kolgaar lay the princess on the table closest to the king. King Hrothgar rushed to his daughter and cried over her lifeless body.
“Is she alive?” Etheldreda asked.
Svenson glared at Everard. “He drugged her with something. Brite said he bound his powers.” He touched the man with the toe of his shoe and glanced at the king, who wailed. Svenson nodded once and left to offer comfort.
“Be thankful they only bound your powers,” Etheldreda jeered as she followed Svenson.
“What is wrong with her?” the king shrieked.
Etheldreda touched the princess on the forehead and placed her hand over the girl’s chest. “She’s been drugged.” She summoned a bag, engorged it to its original size, and summoned a smaller bag filled with leaves.
“What is that? Don’t you touch her!” the king shouted.
Etheldreda held her palm up and glared at him before she took the herbs and placed them in the girl’s mouth. The old woman held her gnarled hands above Gyda’s stomach and syphoned out the magic that blocked her. She moved her hands to her chest and then to her throat, and held it there. The girl woke, turned her head, and began coughing until she spat out the herbs. In an instant, she retched, throwing up the potion. Her body quivered and she vomited again.
Despite the stench of stomach bile and the rancid potion, Etheldreda continued to hold her hand above the girl’s neck. Gyda continued to cough and vomit until nothing else came up. When Gyda no longer felt the need to gag, she rolled on her back, and looked from Etheldreda to the king.
“Father,” she murmured. The broken king bent over his daughter. His thick body heaved and quaked as he cried.
*
Rain and wind assailed them as they ran to the river. “This is where we crossed earlier,” Zola shouted.
Brite grumbled as he held Annie tightly. The river had swollen to twice its size in the ten minutes since Kolgaar and Svenson must have passed. “We can’t cross here,” he said.
Zola motioned for Brite to follow. They walked along the river’s edge until the river narrowed again. They stopped and watched the water squeeze into the slim passage; the current was strong there. “I can’t walk through this,” Brite said.
“Can you teleport her?” Zola asked.
“The wind’s too strong.” Brite glanced down the river. The rain fell sideways. They continued down the river and entered the burnt forest.
Lighting flashed.
“I get the feeling this is Jason’s doing,” Brite said.
Zola glanced up at the gray sky as the thunder boomed and vibrated through them.
Brite stopped for a moment and glanced up at the dark sky. “She’s safe now, Jason! You can stop!” The rain and wind continued to pelt them. “Maybe not,” Brite joked, but it didn’t feel funny.
Zola pointed. “It’s flat down there,” she said as they walked down the slope.
“It’s too fast,” Brite said.
Zola looked at Annie, unconscious in Brite’s arms. “If we don’t get her back, she might die. We need to cross.”
Brite pointed at the narrow spot and took a cautious step. Zola held him steady as the current beat against his legs. On the opposite side, Zola nudged him with magic, helping him step onto the riverbank.
They said nothing as they sprinted across the barren landscape. When Brite found the path to Jorvik, he took it and ran Annie back to town.
*
Brite left Annie unconscious by the fire pit, covering her in a thick, dry blanket. “I’ll be right back,” he said and left Zola beside her as he wandered to Gibbs’s lifeless body.
He touched the other man’s three-day-old beard and felt the death chill across his skin. Brite shuddered, summoned and unfurled a blanket, laying it across Gibbs’s body. “Sorry, old man. You deserved a better death.”
Brite wiped the tears from his eyes. He hadn’t worked with Gibbs much, but he respected him, as did all of the wizard guards. His death would crush Annie.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Bega said.
“Thank you.”
“Can I get you anything?”
Brite shook his head, sighed, and returned to Annie.
“Is she up?” he asked Zola.
“No.”
“I need to wake her. We need to leave before her powers come.” Brite peeled off the blanket and looked at her mangled hands. He touched her right wrist carefully. Her eyes flew open, and she cried out in pain.
“Sorry. I think I need to repair as much as I can before we go back,” Brite told her.
She nodded in understanding. “Where’s Gibbs?” she asked. Brite and Zola exchanged glances. “Where is he?” she asked again.
“Let me heal your hands,” Brite said.
“Where is he?” she screamed out, her voice shrill and panicked.
“Everard…” Brite began.
Pictures filtered in Annie’s mind. She knew she had seen a flash and Gibbs falling forward. He had fallen. “No. No. NO!” Annie began to hyperventilate. She couldn’t breathe. “No!”
“Come here.” Brite held her arm and helped her up. She leaned against him and shuffled as she walked, her hands dangling in front of her. He guided her to the end of the longhouse where Gibbs lay under the blankets. Brite pulled the wool blanket away, exposing Gibbs’s cold, gray skin. His eyes were closed.
Annie reached out for him, but her mangled hands were useless, painful. “Bring him back,” she said.
Zola held her shoulders. “I tried. It was black magic. I couldn’t.”
“Bring him back!” Her voice, filled with pain and anger, reverberated across the wooden walls. Everyone still inside watched Annie. She didn’t notice the spectacle she was making made, and she wouldn’t have cared if she did.
“Annie. We can’t,” Brite said.
She fell to her knees, bent her head, and cried.
Chapter 32
Annie sat across from Gibbs as he lay on the table. Brite and Zola tried to heal her, but she shrugged them away. They offered her food, but she glared at them.
Brite sat several seats from Annie, observing her patiently. Zola fiddled with Annie’s backpack.
“I need to heal you before you go back,” Zola said.
“Later. I need to protect him.” Annie wiped the tears away with her forearm.
“You can’t protect him without your hands.” Zola knelt beside her and picked up Annie’s left hand.
Annie resigned herself to Zola’s care and let Zola blanket her hand with Aloja fairy magic. It was warm and familiar, but at the same time, it hurt like hell as the magic knitted her bones back together. Annie grimaced, sweat gathering at her forehead and behind her neck. Her breath was quick, and she bit her lip to keep from screaming.
“It’s almost healed,” Zola said.
Annie closed her eyes. Her arm shook as her magical energy depleted. She shivered uncontrollably and Zola stopped.
“Rest for now.” Zola placed her hand above Annie’s heart and waited for her to calm. Instead, she began to cry.
“How is she?” Brite asked.
“So much magical energy is gone,” Zola said. “I suspect with love and care, she’ll move on.”
Zola prepared food and passed it to Brite. He made a face at the charred meat but took a slice and chewed slowly.
“Are you okay?” Zola asked him.
“I didn’t know him as well. But he didn’t deserve that. He was a good wizard guard, and underneath his gruffness, he was a good man and he loved her.” Brite took another bite. “I’ll be fine. Thanks.”
Annie wiped more tears. “I’m ready for my other hand.”
Zola returned, placed both hands on Annie’s right hand and began the healing spell. Annie felt numb. She barely registered the pain she should be feeling as Zola fixed her broken hand.
“Make fists,” Zola ordered. Annie obliged. The action was slow; her hands were stiff and sore. “When you get home, have them continue with treatment.”
Annie nodded and began shaking violently.
Calmly, Zola wrapped Annie in a thick blanket and added warmth with her magic.
“I can’t stop shaking,” Annie said.
“You’ve used so much magic and are still pulling energy from around here to help heal. My poor dear,” Zola said as she wiped Annie’s forehead.
“Has anyone seen Sturtagaard?” Annie asked.
Brite stood and looked around longhouse. “He’s not here. Last I heard, his wife was dying. He’s probably with her,” Brite said. “I can look for him if you like?” Brite put his arm around her. Annie shook her head.
“I don’t feel so good,” Annie said.
“You just need rest,” Brite said.
“No. I really don’t.”
Brite jumped when her skin began to glow. A light mist billowed around her. She reached out and pulled it from the air, the earth, and the water around them. Annie was regenerating; she was receiving her power.
“Annie?” Brite shouted. He reached for her, but he could not touch her. He and Zola stepped back as the magical energy filled Annie with life, with power.
Everard, tied to a chair, watched with fascination and a crooked grin across his thin lips. “It is here!” he shouted.
“Nooo!” Annie shouted. The blanket slipped from her shoulders as her body twisted and jerked. Painfully, the magic gripped her muscles and bones; every cell in her body burst from magic that didn’t belong to her.
The Vikings and the coven stood in fear of the magic that swirled and twinkled as golden light around them while the magical energy that existed in the longhouse was siphoned for Annie.
Energy rushed through her; her body could barely contain it. Losing all control, she rose in the air, seizing with magic. Brite grabbed her, but the magic burned his fingertips and she slipped from his grip.
“There’s nothing we can do,” Zola said. She watched with concern as Annie rose to the ceiling, shuddering as she hung in the air.
Annie let out a wild, frenzied scream as the light around her burst forth.
“What if she falls?” Brite asked.
Zola levitated herself in the air as the light exploded around them. She reached for her charge, holding Annie tenderly as she floated back to the ground. Ignoring everything around them, she walked Annie to the table and lay her down, folding Annie’s arms across her chest.
Annie opened her eyes and smiled before her head rolled sideways and she blacked out.
*
The rain fell, but it was no longer violent, angry, or hard. It was the type of summer rain that would fall and wash the humidity from Chicagoland, leaving everything smelling clean. Brite left the window of the small cottage open, letting fresh air inside. There was no more forest to the north, only smoldering embers and smoke that, luckily for them, had been driven away in the storm.
The fireplace was dark. Soft candles glowed around the cottage. Brite stared out the window. Had there been moonlight, he could have seen across the fields of England.
Annie tossed and turned in bed, rolling on her side and moaning as she slept fitfully. Zola touched her forehead and hovered over her heart, but there was nothing she could do to calm her. Annie would have to feel the pain and work through it.
As the dawn neared, Annie began to scratch at her arms feverishly as if she were trying to remove something. Brite and Zola exchanged glances.
“Why is she scratching? She’ll scratch herself raw,” Brite said.
Zola held Annie’s hand. Her skin felt hot. “The magic doesn’t belong to her.”
“You think it’s her body rejecting it?” Brite asked.
“I don’t know. I can’t think what else it could be. If she were allergic to something in Northumbria, she’d have reacted already.” Zola raised Annie’s sleeve. Her skin glowed, except where she had scratched; there, it was red and raw from scratching.
Annie murmured and twitched. Her eyes flew open. Her breathing was shallow and quick.
“Hi, sweetheart,” Zola said. Annie’s eyes darted between Zola and Brite.
“Where am I?” she asked.
“We’re in a cottage in Jorvik. We’re going back in the morning,” Brite tried to smile. He was finding it hard to be happy.
“Here. Drink this.” Zola offered her a bottle of water and helped Annie sit. Annie took small sips; the water sloshed in her stomach and made her queasy.
“How long was I out?” She took another swig of water.
“Long enough. I’m very sorry the spell didn’t keep you safe,” Zola said. She held Annie’s hands in hers.
“It’s not your fault. Everard used black magic.” Absently, Annie scratched at her thigh.
“You’re itchy?” Zola asked.
“Yeah. It feels like something’s crawling inside of me.” Annie scratched faster, but it offered no relief.
“I think it’s the magic,” Zola said.
“I don’t like it.” Annie shook out her hand as if that could dump the magic out. Sparks shot from her palms and hit the shutter, smashing it against the stone walls. For a short moment, the magic stopped itching. “Damn.” She stared at her palm.
Zola opened the second window. The streets of Jorvik were empty. The survivors had returned to their homes and the coven remained at the longhouse. The silence was stifling.
“Where’s Gibbs?” Annie asked.
“He’s in the longhouse. We prepared him to travel.”
“I don’t trust them. I should go watch the body.” Annie turned to get off the bed.
“No. You need to sleep. To rest. Kolgaar made a solemn oath to watch over him,” Zola said.
Annie slumped against the wall and scratched at her temple. “I’m sick of the rain. I’m already sick of the magic.” The itch was deep inside her body. As much as she scratched, she couldn’t reach it. The powers were taking hold and molding to her. The thought made her blanch.
“I imagine so. How can I help you?”
Annie looked at her Aloja fairy, overwhelmed with the knowledge that she had known Zola her whole life, just not this version of her. While it was familiar, it also was not. “You can remove the powers,” Annie said.
“Ask me when you get home. I’ll have had eleven hundred years to figure out how.” Zola offered a wan smile.
Annie wanted to tell her that eleven hundred years hadn’t been enough to figure it out, but Zola had warned her not to discuss it with anyone, including her younger self. Instead, she offered a hopeful smile and said, “Okay.” Annie scratched the skin on her head and rubbed her face. “I think I’d like to go for a walk.”
“I’ll come with you,” Brite offered.
Annie shook her head. “No. I think I need to be alone.”
Gingerly, Annie pulled on her jacket, turned on her flashlight, and left the cottage.
Her flashlight lit up Jorvik as she followed the narrow streets packed with buildings for business and homes. She passed a blacksmith’s forge and followed the road to the stables and beyond.
She wandered aimlessly, eventually reaching the longhouse. She stood at the door and touched the carvings. Immediately, Annie saw the new one that had been created. She touched the girl that looked like her before holding the door handle. She wanted to see Gibbs, to touch his hand, to talk to him. She shuddered and turned away, unable to bear his loss, and walked on.
At the edge of Jorvik, Annie found herself staring at an empty cottage. The door was open and gently swung in the breeze. She looked inside. It was clearly a family home, and yet it looked as though it had been recently abandoned. She stepped inside.
Uneaten food lay on the plates on the table and a pot rested in the now-cold coals. Annie ran her fingers across the table, touched the edge of the plate, and looked inside the cup of mead.
They must have run off in the last attack and nev
er came back.
Annie shuddered and opened the chest at the foot of the bed. Inside were linens, thick woolen blankets and extra pillows, a new dress, a pair of pants. She gently closed the lid and sat at one of the four chairs at the table.
“They may have died,” she murmured.
Annie stared at her engagement ring. It was mostly intact, even after Everard had crushed her hands.
It needs a good cleaning.
Butterflies filled her belly when she thought of Cham. He had been in her life since they had first met at Parents Weekend during their siblings’ first year at Windmere School of Wizardry. That day had forever changed her life. Through all the good and bad, she’d always had him.
Annie itched with magical energy. It made her restless, so she took to strolling the small cottage. The rain that she’d thought would be ending soon began to pound against the thatched roof and dripped on her head. She moved to the window as lightning struck, bringing with it a soft roll of thunder and a familiar scent.
“Hi, Dad,” she said out loud.
“You did it.”
The disembodied voice was so familiar to her, she thought she had imagined it. She twirled around and jumped when she saw her father standing there.
“Dad?”
A shimmering white shadow in the shape of Jason Pearce stood in front of her. His face was clear and crisp as if she were staring at a picture of him.
I could be dreaming.
She took a breath. His cologne overpowered her.
“I’m here. But only for a short time. It’s not over yet,” he said to her.
“I still have to get home.”
“With those powers overtaking you,” he reminded her.
Annie chuckled and shook her head. “I don’t want them. Can we talk about something else?”
Jason laughed just like she remembered, low and jolly. Her heart tugged.
“You’ll need those powers to bring down the Fraternitatem. Accept them,” Jason said.
Annie observed him. She hadn’t thought about that, about her mom or about the Fraternitatem and how they related to the powers. She changed the subject. “Are you okay, Dad? Are you in a good place?”
The white mist that took on his form moved closer to her. “It doesn’t work that way. I don’t actually remember where I was before coming here. That’s beside the point though,” he said, sounding a little confused.
Wizard Hall Chronicles Box Set Page 134
