by C. L. Roman
"Is it the same rock?" she asked.
He had to admit it wasn't. "But what difference does that make?"
"Precision is important. Without it in battle, you can end up collapsing a building instead of a person." She framed his face in her hands. "Balor won't give you a chance to make mistakes. He'll destroy you at the first opportunity."
Chapter Fourteen
Three days later, things had progressed to the point that Jackson was able to channel the lines from their hotel room. Afternoon sunlight glazed the furniture with gold as Jackson stood practicing.
"You have to admit I've come a long way," he said, flipping a coin in and out of visibility.
"You have come along a lot faster than I expected. I still want you to practice more with Solcruth though."
"If I use the stone against him, Balor is going to notice. Just one more reason for him to chase me, right?"
Maeve nodded reluctantly. "But she's still our best chance against him."
"Why? I know you said magick shouldn't be used to kill directly, but I can make any weapon I want."
"You can," she admitted. "But Balor still has the Eye. All he has to do is blink, and you're gone. Meanwhile, you have to channel the ley lines to use your power. If you do that more than once or twice, you’ll be wiped out before you get started."
"So..."
"So, what if there aren't any lines close by when he finds us?"
"So, we stay in New York."
"For how long? Are you willing to never see your family again?"
"It won't be that long. Eventually, he'll get tired of looking for us."
"You underestimate him. And that isn't even considering Dinael. Neither of them is going to allow Neala's power to remain in the hands of a human, any more than they'll allow a pathwalker to live." She took his face in her hands. "And I can't run forever, Jacks."
"I know," he said, putting his arms around her. He rested his forehead against hers, staring into her eyes. "I've put you in danger, haven't I?"
Maeve's cell phone chimed, and they both jumped. She moved away from him, picking up the device and thumbing the button to light up the screen.
The color drained from her face. "It's from Arcadia. Balor knows where we are. It's a short step for him to figure out when, as well, and come for us." She jerked her rucksack open and pulled out a container of salt and the four stones she used before. "Safest if we leave now, before he has a chance to narrow our position to this time-period." She poured a line of salt in a slow arc on the carpet.
"Running just puts off the inevitable." Jackson stopped her, taking the box and flipping the top closed.
She pulled it from his hands and opened it again, adding to the salt ring as she replied. "You aren't ready."
"No one ever is. You should go home, Maeve. That will at least prove that I didn't kidnap you."
She straightened. "Are you saying you don't want me here?"
"I want you to be safe. If Balor comes after me —"
"When Balor comes after you, he won't be coming for me. That's just a convenient excuse."
The door slammed back on its hinges so hard the wall shook, and plaster fell in tiny flecks from the ceiling. Balor leaned against the door frame. "How can you say that, Maeve? You know your uncle loves you." He flung out his hand and released a writhing ball of green magick. The spell engulfed her before she could blink, lifting her several inches from the ground and moving her toward the bathroom.
"Release me, Balor. You have no right cut off my access to the Fomora." Maeve's hands clenched around the saltbox spasmodically.
"I was sent by your uncle to rescue you. I am simply keeping you out of harm's way while I punish your captor."
Jackson reached for the node but could only feel a weak thread of power. Channeling it, he added to it from his own life force. Blue light crackled around his palms, spasmodic and pale.
Balor turned to him, his eyes wide. "What do you think you're doing, boy?" He glanced at Jackson's hands and laughed. "What a nice little light show you have there. Shall I show you some real power?" He made a cutting motion with the flat of his hand, and a thin spear of jade glass leapt into reality, its midpoint resting comfortably in his fist. He thrust the deadly point at Jackson's chest.
Jumping to the side, Jackson evaded the onslaught. He focused on the light in his hands and flicked his fingers, shooting three-inch sapphire darts at his enemy. "Power doesn't have to be big to do damage."
Balor brought his wrists together, fingers splayed, and a green shield spun into existence, blocking the sapphire shards. "True, but it does have to be power." He shoved the spinning disk into Jackson, slamming him against the wall with enough force to crack the plaster. A web of green light sprang from the rim of the shield, trapping Jackson against its glowing surface. The strands tightened, cutting into his body.
Jackson groaned. Clutching the edge with both hands, he forced pulsing blue light into the green. The strands loosened. Jackson pushed more power into the gleaming circle as sweat stood out on his skin and his knees buckled.
"Leave off, boy. Up here there's too much between you and the node for it to help you against me." Balor grinned at him. "Keep going, and you'll do my work for me."
"Balor, stop it," Maeve pleaded. "He is innocent!"
Balor glared at her. "He stole power from Fomora."
Maeve stiffened. "He didn't steal it; she gave it to him. You can't kill him for that. I won't let you."
Balor gave a short, sharp bark of laughter. "Oh? And how will you stop me, little Maeve?"
"You're never specific enough in your casting, Balor. It's a weakness." She threw the box at him, the salt around the opening cutting easily through the ethereal sphere. The lines of power closed behind the box, but it tumbled through the air, salt spraying from it like water from a spigot.
Balor blinked as the white crystals rained down around him, and the strings of light imprisoning her flickered. It was all she needed.
Purple streaks of power shot through the open spaces, shoving them aside, and she dropped through onto the floor. Two steps and she punched an indigo hole in the green disk. It splintered, disappearing in a ghost of dark light. She caught Jackson to her as he collapsed, and pressed her lips to his ear. "The Meadow," she whispered.
Jackson nodded, and Solcruth hummed. In a heartbeat, they left Balor behind, alone in the shattered hotel room.
Kneeling in the meadow, Maeve cradled Jackson's head in her lap. "Rest, love. Let Gaia feed you a while."
Jackson lay there gasping as soft waves of energy pulsed from the earth into his body. After a few minutes, his breath quieted, and he laughed.
Maeve stared at him. "What in the universe do you have to laugh over?" she asked.
Another weak chuckle escaped him. "I'm just picturing Balor's face when he tries to follow us and finds that every door he opens leads him back to Aelfholm."
She gasped. "How did you do that?"
"I asked Solcruth to create a maze around the room so that every possible exit leads to Aelfholm." He laughed again. "He won't even be able to open the bathroom door without winding up back home. Simple."
"Devious, you mean." She brushed the hair from his forehead and smiled. "I wonder how long it will take him to figure it out, and counteract it?"
The laughter died from Jackson's face. "Probably not long enough," he said.
Chapter Fifteen
"What do you mean, you lost them?" Dinael gripped the arms of his throne so tight that Balor was certain his fingerprints were engraved in the wood.
Balor rubbed his temple, unconsciously searching for the filigreed silver band of his diadem — the one that held the Eye. The one he wasn't allowed to wear inside the palace.
Balor gave the king an abbreviated account of the battle and its aftermath, ending with his difficulties leaving the hotel for any other destination than Aelfholm. "He crippled my gatestone somehow. Doesn't matter. I'll get a new one. They only function for so long
anyway." Keeping his tone deliberately casual, he held his wine glass up to the sunlight, viewing his surroundings through the golden liquid.
The hall was as old as the Fomorian race if his history professors were to be believed. An oval hall, its single wall made up of ancient rowan trees still rooted in the ground, their branches soaring hundreds of feet into the air and arching over the room to provide a ceiling.
One of his teachers had insisted that it had been shaped by magick to create the royal audience chamber, doors included. No ax or knife had ever grazed the smooth, red-brown bark that paneled the hall.
Every ten feet, a window broke the wall's continuity. Lozenge-shaped with a sharp point at the top and bottom, they had not been cut into the wood. Instead, their frames had been set between the trunks and the trees grown around them.
"When you tire of examining the architecture, I'd like an explanation." Dinael sat in the high-backed throne, flexing his fingers. He raised his glass and sipped. "How did a novice mage, a human, defeat you?"
"He didn't defeat me." Balor's teeth ground over the words. "He escaped. And he had help. Maeve is no light opponent. Aside from being your niece, she is highly talented."
Dinael dismissed the protest with a wave of his hand. "Every member of my family has ability, as do you. This is no excuse."
"And I make none. I am merely pointing out that, counter to the story you told the public, Maeve is helping this human, just as she did before." He finally took his eyes from the glass to look directly at the king. "She is committing treason."
"She is defending her friend against you. In all likelihood, she does not know what he has done. He probably lied to her."
Balor tightened his grip, and his glass cracked. "I am your agent in the Upper Realm. Is she not aware of this?"
"Don't be dramatic. Of course she is. But, you have been known to be..." he hesitated, choosing his words. "Overzealous... in your prosecution of my commands. Such intensity has consequences." He stared pointedly at the four scars marring Balor's cheek.
The glass shattered and a servant hurried to sweep up the shards. Balor didn't even look at him.
"She is disobeying your direct command. She must be punished, niece or not."
Dinael's eyes narrowed to slits. "You forget your place, Balor. Be careful that I do not remind you of it with more than words."
Taking a step back, Balor executed a half bow. "Of course, Your Majesty. I did not mean to imply anything else. My only concern is that your crown be respected." He held out his hand until another glass of wine was placed in it and then took a drink. "What are your orders, Sire?"
"The same as they ever were. Execute Jackson Delaney so that his power returns to the Fomora, and bring Maeve home where she belongs."
Balor inclined his head. "As you wish, Your Majesty." He tossed back the rest of his wine and turned for the exit.
"Oh, and Balor?"
Balor stopped but didn't turn.
"You will bring me whatever stone of power he's carrying, won't you?"
Turning slowly, Balor lifted his eyes to Dinael's as the king descended the throne to face him. "What makes you think he has one of those?"
"Oh come now. You said yourself that this Jackson Delaney is a novice mage. Even with Maeve's help, he should have been no match for you. Instead, he not only resisted your attack but managed to keep you contained for three days while you undid the travel loop he trapped you in."
"Maeve escaped the containment bubble I put her in. She probably —"
"Don't prevaricate." Dinael wagged a finger under Balor's nose. "If Maeve wanted you trapped, you'd have more scars to show for it, at the very least. I love my niece, but she has a vicious temper. No -- this particular spell has the mark of a very different mage, novice or not. And since Jackson was the only other magick user in the vicinity, I'm betting on him."
"All the more reason for me to find and destroy him," Balor said.
"See that you do." Dinael let Balor get almost to the door this time. "And bring the stone to me."
Stopping with his hand on the door, Balor gritted his teeth before answering. "As you wish, Sire."
Chapter Sixteen
Jackson leaned forward, his hands braced on his knees, as he tried for the fourth time that day to keep from passing out. The shrub he was trying to grow into a tree just sat there. He could swear the leaves looked smug.
"Come on, Jacks. The spell is advanced, but you can do it.” Maeve paced back and forth under the elms, arms crossed just like her emotions.
“I don’t get why I can change a stone into a cup, but I can’t get a stupid tree to grow.”
“Localized time acceleration is far more complex than simply rearranging a few molecules. But you’ll get it. It just takes practice.”
"Easy for you to say," Jackson said, and struggled to slow his breath back to even respiration. He looked past her at the shelter she had made with magick. Technically, she'd grown it inside a tree they found in the meadow. The elm’s branches swayed above it, tightly interlaced to keep out the weather, if there ever was any. An opening in the front provided an entrance hidden behind a screen of leaves. A table and two chairs sat outside it, also courtesy of Maeve's talent. "You've been practicing since you were a child. I wasn't exactly raised to be a mage."
To his surprise, she nodded. "Of course, it is easier for me. I was raised knowing that magick is natural — as much a part of the world as I am. Humans take a different view. They treat magick as if it were intrinsically evil. It's perfectly understandable that you would resist its use."
"My parents never said —"
"Your mother refused to allow Neala to train you. That in itself tells me all I need to know about how she saw magick. It isn't her fault." Maeve shrugged. "She's only human."
He lifted an eyebrow. "You say that like it's a bad thing."
"It isn't necessarily a good thing." She shrugged and then shot him a level stare. "Try again."
He closed his eyes and sighed. Opening himself as she had taught him, he felt Gaia's power flow into his body through his feet and legs where they touched the soil. It flooded upward, filling him until it reached his chest, and then, as before, it stopped. He could feel it bubbling and popping inside him as he struggled to control it.
"You're over-thinking it, Jacks. Focus on the spell you want to cast, let the magick flow through you like you did at the hotel. Don't try to contain it."
He glanced at her, breaking his concentration. Power surged down his arms and out of his hands in a spray of azure light, zapping the little bush without mercy, and taking his breath with it. Jackson dropped to his knees, eye level with the burned-out husk that used to be a growing thing.
"If you keep this up, this meadow is going to be a desert before long." Maeve shook her head and walked over to the hut. "Let's take a break."
Jackson clenched his fists in frustration. "We've been here two weeks with no real improvement in my control," he said. "We don't have time to take a break."
Maeve ducked into the cottage and returned with a tray of bread and cheese. "Get the ale." When he hesitated, she set the food down on the table. "He can't get in here. Solcruth made sure of that. If I left, I don’t think even I could get back in without you."
"Fine." He trudged into the hut and found the ale pitcher. On his way back out, his eye caught on the grimoire, and he plucked it up. Outside, he laid it on the table next to the food. "Maybe Gran can help me figure this out."
"I'm training you." Maeve's lips tightened around the words as she ripped a piece of bread from the loaf.
"Hey, no offense. I'm just thinking... In the military, if you need to train on a piece of equipment, you go the SME — the subject matter expert."
Maeve's eyes narrowed, and she opened her mouth to blast him.
Jackson held up his hands defensively. "You are an expert in Fomorian magick. I'm just thinking maybe Gran knows something that might help me with Gaian magick."
She relaxe
d slightly. "I guess that makes sense." When he still hesitated, she flicked the book open. "Ask her, then. What are you waiting for?"
The pages rustled and the writing appeared before they had a chance to settle.
It took you long enough. The words were dark and uneven as if written by an angry hand. What am I waiting around for unless it's to teach you what Maeve can’t? Foolish children. Acting like you know it all.
"I'm sorry, Gran." Jackson glanced at Maeve, who rolled her eyes. "Can you help me with this?"
I'll not even grace that with an answer, such a stupid question it is. Can I help you? Foolish boy.
The writing faded and the page stayed blank for several moments as they stared at it. Just as Jackson opened his mouth to prompt her, it started again.
The trouble is, you've two kinds of magick warring inside you. Pooled magick from Fomora, and flowing magick from Gaia. You must learn to balance them, Jackie-boy. Or they'll block each other -- keep you from getting more than a trickle from either one.
“That can’t be right. He was able to do simple spells here in the meadow before,” Maeve said.
As you say, but simple spells standing right on top of a node are different than tapping into enough power to speed up time or combat hostile magic. Jackie, why do you think you had such a hard time with Balor?
"I thought that was because we were so high up," Jackson said.
If that were true, you’d have no trouble with more advanced spells here in the Meadow. No, the problem is you’re trying to use Gaian power alone.
"Wait." Maeve’s stare bounced from the grimoire to Jackson and back again. "I don't understand. Jackson shouldn’t have any trouble tapping into Gaia’s power. He’s human."
This is true. But not by so wide a margin as you believe.
"What do you mean?" Jackson asked.
It is the greatest sorrow of my life that Ryan never knew his father. The writing faltered, the ink thinning to a faint scrawl.
"Grandpa John? He only died a little over ten years ago. Dad grew up with him." Jackson frowned.
