by C. L. Roman
After a moment she paused to glance at him. "Give me a few minutes. While I'm getting the potion ready, maybe you can ask Solcruth for the elixir? This will flatten both of us. If we're going after Balor today, we'll need it right away."
"Right." Closing his eyes again, he touched the amulet. "Life renewing elixir please," he said out loud, then muttered, "without half killing me this time."
A glass bottle appeared on the table, filled to the cork with golden liquid. On the table next to it lay a square, white card filled with writing.
"All right," Maeve said. "I've got the potion ready. I just need to speak the incantation and... What's this?" She picked up the card.
"No idea. It came with the gold stuff."
"It's instructions. It says to mix this with the healing potion after investing it, but before you drink it."
"Investing it?"
She waved her hand over the table vaguely. "Saying the incantation invests the mixture with the required magick. This is weird. You aren't supposed to mix potions, especially if you don't know what all is in them."
"Why not?"
"Different herbs can have strange effects on each other. For instance, you'd never use moon-mint and sun-wort in the same potion. They cancel each other out. Putting the wrong things together can be dangerous."
He eyed the bottle critically. "Does your potion have any moon-mint in it?"
She shook her head.
"Then I say we risk it," Jackson said. "Can't be any worse than having your bones healed by a malicious rock."
A weak smile trembled on her lips. "All right."
She gave him the mortar and put her hand under his. Placing her other palm over the top, she began the incantation in Fomorian.
"My life, your life,
Heal and blend,
Come together to
Cleanse and mend,
Hearts bring health,
And sickness end."
Purple smoke drifted down into the bowl from her palm as blue smoke trailed up around the stone edges, creeping into the mortar to mix with the purple. The potion boiled, then calmed with indigo steam rising gently from it.
"Pour the elixir in and drink it," Maeve said, her voice a mere trickle of sound. Jackson’s arm trembled as he lifted the tiny container and poured the contents into the bowl.
Using both hands, he hefted the mortar, muscles straining as if it weighed a thousand pounds. He watched as Maeve sank to her knees, gasping with the effort of helping him raise the potion to his lips.
He drank, spilling some of it down his chin. As the liquid passed his lips, he closed his eyes. Energy coursed from his mouth, down his throat, into his stomach, and out through each of his limbs.
His eyes popped open. He watched the cuts on his arms disappear, leaving silver lines behind. His bruises faded. A tingling burn, half pain, half pleasure, on his forehead told him that the cut over his eye had closed, along with the various scrapes on his body.
A green-blue mist with gold undertones rose from his skin, surrounding him, healing everywhere it touched. It flowed from the top of his head to his heels and then moved down his arms to encompass Maeve.
Her eyes rounded, watching the spell wash over her. She surged to her feet.
"This is incredible. We should be flat on our backs after that. But we're not. I feel..."
"Well,” Jackson said, and let the mortar fall to the ground. “Almost... invincible." He leaned toward her as she rose to greet him. Their lips touched, and the world burst into flame.
He slid his hands over her shoulders and down her back, pressing her body to his. She stretched up to kiss him again, pushing his shirt back to explore his smooth chest with questing fingers.
They tasted, touched, and the fire burned higher within them, called and answered in the same heated breath.
An agitated flapping sounded behind them, followed by the sharp thump of a book snapping closed.
The spell between them broke, and they stepped apart, staring at one another, their breath coming in sharp gasps.
Jackson shook himself and grinned at her. "I guess that potion worked a little too well," he said.
Maeve cleared her throat. "That's one way to put it," she said.
His eyes lit with renewed desire as they moved over her, taking in the smooth curves and planes of her body. He shook his head. "Much as I'd like to pursue that inclination, we don't have time."
"No, we don't." She gave him a flirtatious look through her lashes. "Raincheck?"
"Definitely. Right now, we need to either find my mom and sister —"
"Or figure out a way to get Balor to lead us to them."
He snorted. "I barely know the guy, and I can already tell you that isn't going to happen. Balor knows I'll do anything to get them back safe. You don't give up that kind of advantage without a fight."
A glint showed in her eyes. "You might if you thought you'd already lost it."
One eyebrow climbed into his hairline as a slow grin transformed his features. "What have you got in mind?"
She outlined her plan in a few quick sentences, and he nodded. "That could work." He picked up the grimoire and flipped it open. "But I have a few questions for Gran first."
Chapter Twenty-One
Balor's scream bounced against the dark, thinning into a tenuous thread of sound before disappearing altogether. As his eyes adjusted, he realized that it wasn't completely lightless, only dim. Reaching out his hand, he touched the blank, black wall that enclosed him. Careful examination of the perimeter revealed his prison to be a foot wider than his body in every direction, and only a bit taller than his fingers could reach above his head. Standing on his toes allowed him to graze the ceiling. The hole allowed enough room to stand, turn, and sit, but nothing more. Pacing was out of the question.
"Osialdum," he said, lifting his hand to shoulder height and placing the palm flat against the wall.
Nothing. Not even the familiar, sweet surge of Fomora's power as it flowed through him. A thin film of sweat beaded along his hairline.
"Blisetrei," he shouted, and slammed his fist against the wall, eliciting a hollow boom with no answering echo. No blast of power answered his summons and the only sounds he heard were the ones he made. The light continued a uniform, dim gray, no matter where he looked.
Over the next few hours, he tried spell after spell. None of them worked or even called up a thimble-full of the power he was accustomed to. Each effort depleted him as if he were trying to reach the Fomora over an immense distance, or through an impenetrable substance.
But that made no sense.
Exhausted, he leaned his back against the wall and slid to the floor, his head in his hands as the moments spun silently away from him.
When he finally lifted his head, he had no idea how much time had passed. "How long have I been here?" he muttered. "Hours? Days?" He shook his head. Hunger rumbled through his belly. To stave it off, he pulled a flask from his belt and drank. Holding the bottle to his ear, he shook it, frowning at the single swish that answered the motion.
"Do I try to blast my way out with the Eye, and risk incinerating myself in the process — or face death by starvation and thirst?" A rasp of bitter laughter grated in his throat. "Some choice."
A flicker of light sparked at the corner of his vision. Balor lurched to his knees, straining to make out any change in his surroundings. When he found none, he collapsed to the floor, drawing his knees to his chest and folding his arms on top.
"A third option appears to be madness," he mumbled to himself, and closed his eyes, resting his head on his arms. "Which one will kill me first, I wonder."
"Self-pity doesn't suit you, Balor."
Lurching to his feet, Balor glared into the murk. "Where are you? Show yourself."
Deep throated male laughter greeted him. "I'm right here. Just turn around."
Balor spun on his heels, his empty hands raised. A portal six inches by three opened in the wall, revealing Jackson's laughin
g face.
Jackson tapped on the portal, eliciting a musical ring of sound. "These cell phone thingies are amazingly versatile. The spell to adapt this one into an electronic window was so simple, I didn’t even break a sweat."
Balor sprang at the small rectangle of light, doubling up his fist to slam it into Jackson's mouth. His blow hit a flat panel of obdurate transparency, and Balor doubled over, cradling his bruised fist against his abdomen.
"Easy there, bud. You didn't think I'd make it breakable, did you?" Jackson shook his head. "I'll bet that hurts like hell. You OK?" he asked, his tone dripping with false sympathy. "Look, I won't keep you. I just wanted to let you know that I figured out where my mom and sister are." Jackson paused, and his eyes narrowed, his voice dropping to a vicious snarl. "And to let you know that you are going to die in that hole. There's no way out. You can't reach the Fomora from there, and if you try to blast your way out, the Eye will destroy you, and itself, way before it does any damage to your prison."
"Even if you do find them, you'll never get them out alive," Balor said. "The wards I placed are set to trigger a massive cave-in if anyone besides myself tries to enter."
A trace of doubt flashed in Jackson's eyes, but he covered it as he responded. "No one has to go in. I'll use Solcruth to create a way out."
Balor laughed. "Not a chance. The slightest change in the structure will trigger the wards. The little witch might be able to shore up the walls temporarily, maybe even long enough for both of them to escape — if she could work magick in there. But she can't. And no one gets in except me." He paused, letting that sink in.
“What witch?” Jackson asked.
“Are all humans this clueless, or just your family? Never mind. I have neither the time nor the desire to educate you at the moment.” Balor crossed his arms over his chest. "You appear to have me at a disadvantage. So, let's make a deal."
Jackson's jaw tensed. "I don't make deals with people I don't trust."
Balor shrugged and leaned back, bracing one booted foot flat against the wall. "Then your family will die long before I take my final breath."
Jackson ground his teeth. "What kind of deal are you talking about?"
"An even trade. My life for theirs."
"You nearly killed me last time." Doubt clouded Jackson's eyes. "What's to stop you from finishing the job if I set you free, and then killing them anyway?"
"I give you my word that you will see them safe before any hostilities renew between us." Balor straightened away from the wall, planting both boots on the ground. "I always keep my word. Ask Maeve, if you don't believe me."
A scowl settled over Jackson's features. "I would, but she took off. Said this was a no-win situation and she wanted no part of it."
"I suppose that depends on your definition of "win." I promise you I'll release your mother and sister. That is as much as I can give you. Take it or leave it."
"I'll think about it," Jackson said and stepped back from the portal. The rectangle shrank, diminishing as Jackson backed away.
"Very well," Balor said. "But don't take too long. Your people are running out of time."
The shrinking stopped. Jackson hesitated, biting his lip as he thought it over. "Fine," he said at last, rubbing at his wrist. "But I've already told Solcruth to create another hole, and that's where you're going at the first sign of trouble."
The portal grew, and the transparent barrier evaporated with a pop. In an instant, the opening was large enough for Balor to walk through. He found himself back where he'd started, in Jackson's apartment in Mount Pilot.
His lips parted in a shark's grin. "Excellent. We won't have far to go then."
Jackson shoved his hands into his pockets. "Good. Let's get moving."
"Yes, let's." He swirled his hand in a circle, ending palm up holding a crystal sphere. In it, Jackson could see Brenna and Shawna, huddled in a dark cavern.
"Scoaliadha," Balor said.
Behind the pair, the rock spiraled open, revealing a rocky escarpment descending into a forest. The women lurched to their feet and stumbled into the open.
"They are standing at a trailhead that will lead them to one of your ranger stations before dark," Balor said. "And now you will die."
Dropping into a defensive crouch, Jackson pulled the bracelet from his wrist and held it up. "No! Look, killing me won't give you what you want. But if you let me go, I'll give this to you. It's what you said you wanted, right? So you can take back the crown from Dinael?"
Balor hesitated. "You would give up Solcruth?"
"If I have to, yeah. I never asked for any of this. I just want to be free to live my life."
"And why shouldn't I simply kill you and take the stone instead?"
"Because if anything happens to me, the stone is Maeve’s." He closed his fist around the stone and a thin haze of blue mist filtered between his fingers. "There. It’s done and nothing you can do about it. The minute my heart stops beating, this thing disappears, straight to her."
Balor glanced around the empty room. "That would put a crimp in my plans," he admitted. "But what stops me from killing Maeve and taking Solcruth back from her anyway?"
Jackson eased to his feet and put a little more space between himself and his enemy. "You know it doesn't work that way. Once it belongs to her, it goes to her next of kin if she dies. And that would be her mother since she isn't married and has no heirs.” He tossed the bracelet into the air and caught it. Balor followed the movement with greedy eyes. "Think about it. I keep my life; you use this to put Dinael somewhere no one will ever find him. That’s the best deal you're going to get."
"Like that hole you had me in?" Balor's brows rose, and he nodded. "That is pleasant to think about. With Dinael out of the way, my path to the throne is clear."
"Doesn't he have a son?" Jackson asked.
"He does, but the prince is only a boy. And with the queen prostrate with grief over the loss of her husband, it would be easy to convince the council to make me regent." He spoke in a musing murmur as if thinking aloud.
"But what about when the prince comes of age? Aren't you right back where you started?"
"Children are such fragile creatures, don't you think, Mr. Delaney?" Balor seated himself in the room's only chair and crossed his legs.
Clearing his throat, Jackson sat down on the couch. "Even if something...bad, were to happen to the prince, how can you be sure you would take his place? I mean, you don't have any real claim —"
Balor glared at him. "My claim is the only real claim. My father was king until Aidan murdered him and stole the throne."
"Aidan? You mean Dinael's father?"
Balor laughed, a bitter, angry scrape of sound. "And Bran's," he said. "Before Aidan died, unexpectedly. Just like Bran after him, and by the same hand." Lifting his eyes to meet Jackson's, Balor bared his teeth. "Regicide is a tricky thing, but with care and cunning, it can be done."
He took a deep breath, brushing imaginary dust from his pants leg. "Now, about Solcruth. I believe I am in a position to be merciful. You give me the stone, and I will forget you exist."
"And Maeve? With you as king, will she be in danger?"
"Not if she stays out of my way. Dinael and Gwyneth will have to die, of course, to clear the line of succession. But Maeve is not eligible to inherit the crown, therefore what she does at that point is no concern of mine, so long as she does it outside the Lower Realm." Balor's gaze sharpened on Jackson. "Now, enough of this idle chatter. Give me the stone."
"Oh, I don't think that would be wise, Balor." The air rippled like water over stones, and Dinael walked through the resulting portal with Maeve on one side and Gwyneth on the other. Behind them entered six warriors in uniform carrying wicked looking sabers.
Balor jumped to his feet, his hand rising to the diadem gleaming on this forehead. Jackson vaulted across the room, slamming into Balor's blind side. The diadem flew from his forehead, skidding across the hardwood floor to land in the corner.
&n
bsp; Balor lurched to his feet, panting. "I will kill you for that."
Jackson shrugged. "Not like you didn't intend to before." Without waiting for a reply, he raised hands wreathed in blue-green luminescence. Twin spirals of turquoise flame snapped out like whips, encircling the arm Balor raised. A shower of green sparked from his free fist, shooting at Jackson's unprotected face.
Releasing the whips, Jackson spun a disk of teal energy into a shield, and the sparks shed across its surface it like water.
"You learn quickly, boy," Balor said.
"Didn't have a lot of choice."
Balor's hands shot upward, and a hollow boom sounded. A crack ran across the ceiling, and chunks of plaster rained over Jackson. Jerking the shield up, he thrust a hand out, throwing a sledgehammer of power into Balor’s stomach, knocking him backward over the couch.
Regaining his feet, Balor sent an answering pulse at Jackson, and the shield burst into shards. One razor sharp missile sang past Dinael's cheek, leaving a scarlet crease along the bone.
"Enough." Dinael raised a pale gemstone in his hand, and a flash of aqua streaked across the room, striking Balor in the chest and blossoming over him with blinding radiance. Before anyone could blink, the mage was encased in a solid block of ice.
Taking a step forward, Gwyneth swept glowing hands over Balor's frozen form, and it disappeared in a smoky haze. She walked over to where the Eye gleamed in the corner and picked it up.
Silence descended. Jackson reached for Maeve's hand, and she moved to stand with him.
Facing them, Dinael held out his empty hand. "I believe you have something that belongs to me, Mr. Delaney."
Jackson crossed his arms over his chest. "And what would that be?"
"Actually, you have two things — the power that Neala illegally gave you, and Solcruth. Both are mine by right. But, you have done me a service today, and it would be ungrateful of me to cause your death." He paused, but Jackson said nothing. "So, I will settle for the stone."
Another silence descended, tense and brittle as new ice.
Finally, Jackson took a deep breath. "No," he said.
Dinael's jaw tightened, but he held on to the faint smile he'd worn since entering the room. "I do not believe you are in a position to bargain."
