Primeval Magic (Demons of Fire and Night Book 3)

by C. N. Crawford

  Fuck. Her stomach dropped at the thought. Both Bael and Kester had been at this battle—and based on Bael’s reaction on the jetty, she had a feeling he would never tell her anything about Mount Acidale. Still, Kester might. All the more reason she needed to speak to him.

  She flew over the rocky ridge, which unfolded below her like the vertebrae of a sleeping beast. She looped around the keep and searched for Bael in its windows, soaring past one room after another, but she found him nowhere. Finally, she returned to her own tower room, exhaling a sigh of relief when she found her window still open. This time she was able to avoid any painful collisions when she flew through. She landed on her bed, her talons scrambling for purchase on the sheets.

  She looked around the room, puffing her wings. She hadn’t learned the spell to transform yet—and in a case, she couldn’t speak. How was she supposed to shift back to her human form? When she tried to speak, her words came out as a series of guttural chirps. Bloody hell. Before she could fly out again to search for Taliesin, the owl’s form appeared through her window, and he spread his wings to land on her sill.

  “Sorry for the delay,” he said. “Dinner ran late.” He began to speak in Angelic, and Ursula felt her bones lengthen and snap, a painful elongation. As before, the feathers retracted into her skin. Her intestines shifted into place with a sickening lurch, and she doubled over. When she straightened again, Taliesin was already gone.

  She sat at the edge of her bed, staring out the window. The whole thing felt like a terrible dream. If her bones didn’t ache and her skin feel like it had been pierced with a thousand needles, she might have been tempted to believe it was just that.

  Slipping under the covers, she closed her eyes. She knew she needed sleep, but as she was drifting off, her mind roiled. Niniane had said the King of Mount Acidale had been obsessed with fire magic. And Merlin had called it the kingdom of fire. Maybe that’s why Kester had gone there—to claim the king’s soul. But moreover, maybe this explained how she’d become a hellhound.

  CHAPTER 14

  U rsula awoke with a start. She could have sworn a loud noise had awakened her, but now, complete silence enshrouded the room. Sitting up in the morning light, she pulled up the shoulder of her silky nightgown.

  Pale amber light streamed through the window, illuminating her sparsely furnished room. Her muscles burned and her head felt like it was full of stuffing. Apparently, transforming into a nighthawk was a bit of a shock to the nervous system. Her head throbbing, she rose from bed and crossed the room to test the door. It was still locked. She hoped Linnet or Niniane would come soon. She really needed to pee.

  A distant cry pierced the silence, the sound sending a shiver down her spine. It had been faint, but she recognized it nonetheless. She would never forget the scream of a dragon.

  Her heart raced, and she crossed to the other door—the one with the stairwell that connected to the room with the fireplace. Wouldn’t someone be in there? “Let me out!” she shouted. “There’s a dragon.”

  The only response was the primal screech of the dragon behind her, its scream echoing through the open window, now louder, closer. Her heart hammering, she turned back to the window—nothing but clear blue sky. Of course, she had no idea what she’d been hoping to see, since dragons were invisible. She turned to bang on the door again, until at last the lock turned.

  Niniane pulled open the door, staring at Ursula from below her wild mop of dark curls. A linen bag hung over her shoulder.

  Ursula grabbed her arm. “There’s a dragon. I need to get out of here.”

  Niniane’s voice cracked when she spoke. “We need to go to the cellar. Elaine said to take you there. It’s the safest place.”

  Ursula snatched her boots from the floor, slipping into them. “I can help fight if someone gives me my magic back.”

  “No.” Niniane shook her head, turning to lead Ursula down the stairs. “We’re to go to the cellar.”

  In the main chamber, Ursula’s gaze flicked to the halberd above the fireplace. It looked rusty and dull, but it was better than nothing. If the dragon was able to find her in the cellar, maybe it would come in useful. But before she could pull it from the wall, the dragon’s screech rent the air again, so loud that it rumbled through her gut. She ran to the arrow slit overlooking the courtyard.

  Nimue and her maidens stood in the center. Dressed in white, the women formed a small semi-circle around the queen. She could hear them singing in Angelic.

  Ursula’s breath caught as terror chilled her blood. Across from them, a dragon crouched. It was enormous—at least the size of a city bus. Fiery red scales glinted in the sunlight. As the girls sang louder, the scales seemed to deepen in color. The spell they were casting had made it visible. And it clearly wasn’t happy.

  The dragon extended its neck toward the women and shrieked. The sound was deafening. Instinctively Ursula clapped her hands to her ears. Elaine and the maidens continued to sing.

  The dragon stalked toward the queen. “Give me the girl,” it said in a voice that was something between a growl and a roar.

  “No. I will not allow the prophecy to unfold!” Nimue boomed.

  “Where is she?” The dragon paused, sniffing the air. “I can smell her. She is near.” Its head swiveled to look at the keep. Despite the narrowness of the embrasure, it fixed its yellow gaze on Ursula. She froze, her heart skipping a beat as the ancient part of her brain screamed at her to run. And yet, her body wouldn’t obey.

  Niniane tugged at her arm. “Let’s go. Now.”

  Ursula turned, sputtering, her legs like jelly. She’d never felt such raw terror before, and her mind whirled as Niniane led her by the hand through the corridor.

  Niniane pulled on her hand, urging her to run faster. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to look a dragon in the eye?”

  Footfalls boomed over the earth. As she ran, she glanced at the windows, her world tilting as she caught another glimpse of the dragon. His shriek rumbled the castle walls as he hurled his body toward the keep, shaking the walls with an ear-shattering crash. With the next slam of its body, Ursula fell to the floor. Glass shattered around her as a taloned foot punched through a glass window, grasping for her body. Nearby, Niniane screamed. Ursula scrambled to her feet, lunging away from the talons, and she managed to dodge it. A single claw caught her dress, tearing it, but Ursula was already breaking into a sprint.

  With Niniane close behind, she headed for the stairwell, legs shaking. Boom. The castle walls trembled as the dragon threw its body at the keep again. It felt like being in the epicenter an earthquake.

  “How far to the cellar?” she gasped.

  “Just a few more floors.” Niniane took the lead, descending deeper into the bowels of the structure. Down here, the light dimmed and the air grew colder. Candles in sconces lit the way, but their flames burned dully. There was a damp, musty smell, like an ancient cave.

  A few more turns down the spiraling staircase and they stepped into a low cellar. Niniane held her hand up then incanted a spell for light, calling forth a glowing orb that cast a golden light over dusty barrels and casks lining the walls. A wine cellar, by the look of it. A crash shook the room, and dusty debris rained down on them.

  Niniane’s entire body was trembling as she stared at Ursula. “Are you all right? The dragon nearly had you.”

  “Yes. It only managed to rip my dress.”

  Boom. Another crash shook the walls, and more dust puffed from cracks in the ceiling.

  “Niniane,” said Ursula. “I don’t think we’re safe down here. The dragon will dig until it finds us. When I was in New York, a dragon clawed through the street and into the subway just to attack—” Ursula stopped short when she saw the incomprehension in Niniane’s eyes. Of course. You have no idea what a subway is. “Anyway, it dug into the ground.”

  Instead of responding, Niniane turned and ran, her linen bag bouncing off her hip. She stopped at a particularly large barrel of wine propped up next to a
wall that reached her waist. “Help me.” She leaned over, resting her hands on the barrel’s sides. “We need to move it out of the way.”

  Boom. The room trembled around her and Ursula stumbled, almost falling as she hurried to the girl’s side. She had no idea what Niniane was planning, but she’d come to trust Nimue’s handmaidens—even if they’d imprisoned her.

  “We need to push,” Niniane explained. “There’s a tunnel.”

  Ursula stood by Niniane’s side, and together they rolled the barrel out of the way. Although it appeared to be made of solid oak it rolled with surprising ease, revealing the mouth of a dark tunnel, about three feet high.

  “This way.” Niniane dropped to her hands and knees, crawling through the gap.

  Ursula paused at the entrance. What was Bael doing right now? She didn’t like the idea of leaving him behind. But then again, even without his magic, the man knew how to fight. He was an ancient warrior demon of the Shadow Realm, and he probably didn’t need her help.

  She dropped to her knees and crawled into the tunnel.

  ONCE INSIDE THE TUNNEL, the ceiling opened up slightly and she could get off her hands and knees, but she still had to crouch to fit in it. The spongy floor smelled of mildew, and as she walked, she felt as if the walls and ceiling were closing in on her. In the dim light, she could have sworn she saw a rat scurry across the floor. Boom. Water droplets fell from the ceiling like rain.

  As debris and water rained around them, they scrambled through the tunnel, following the golden light of Niniane’s orb. They fell into a plodding rhythm, one foot in front of another, soft mud squishing under their knees. At last, the dragon’s booms went quiet, and Ursula’s stomach unclenched. Down here in the dim light, she felt oddly comforted, hidden from sight.

  “I think we’re near the end,” said Niniane, just at the point where the muddy floor gave way to dark stone. “There seem to be steps here.”

  Through the dim light, Ursula stumbled forward to a rough stone staircase. She straightened, peering up into the darkness. Niniane sent her orb higher, illuminating the dank interior of a narrow shaft. On one wall, iron bars had been hammered into the stone forming a sort of ladder.

  “Up this way,” said Niniane.

  Ursula gripped the iron, climbing higher behind Niniane. “Where is this tunnel taking us, exactly?”

  “Outside of the keep. You mustn’t tell anyone. The secret of the cellar tunnel is known only to the queen’s handmaidens.”

  “And she sent you to save me?” asked Ursula.

  “No. That was my idea. I couldn’t leave you in there, could I?” she said defensively.

  “Thank you.” Ursula wished she could give the girl a hug.

  After a few more feet, Niniane stopped. The orb cast a golden light on a rough trap door, and Niniane pushed on it. More light streamed into the shaft. Above them Ursula could see the gauzy fluttering of apple blossoms. Niniane shoved the round trap door aside, and crawled out.

  Ursula pulled herself out onto the mossy earth, then leaned against the trunk of an apple tree. Honeyed rays pierced the boughs, dappling the earth with flecks of gold. Carefully, Niniane slid the wooden cover back over the hole. The side facing up was covered in moss and dirt, and as it closed, Ursula was amazed to see how perfectly it matched the forest floor. When Niniane kicked a few leaves on top, it practically disappeared.

  Ursula took a deep breath. “We’re out of the castle now, but I don’t believe we’ve rid ourselves of the dragon problem.”

  As if to illustrate her point, a dragon’s screech pierced the air, and Ursula’s stomach dropped.

  URSULA FOLLOWED Niniane through the woods, the sky obscured by the vast canopy of apple blossoms. She hadn’t had time to put on a bra before leaving, so she hugged her arms under her breasts for support. “Where are we going?”

  “I know someone who can help us.” She peered at Ursula. “Do you have a lover?”

  Ursula’s brow rose. Niniane wasn’t anywhere near old enough for this conversation, unless this was one those places where people married at the age of thirteen. “Why are you asking about that?”

  “The dragons are coming for you. You shouldn’t die without finding true love.”

  “Mmm. Good point.”

  Up ahead, the sound of rushing water interrupted the forest’s quiet. Niniane’s pace quickened until the trees began to thin giving way to the rocky bank of a mountain stream that rushed down a rocky mountainside, spilling between jagged boulders. Niniane hurried toward the nearest boulder, pulling off her linen bag and dropping it on the rock. Then, she pulled her dress over her head.

  “I need an explanation at this point,” said Ursula.

  Niniane splashed the stream water on her body. “We must clean ourselves.”

  Ursula looked down at her mud spattered nightgown. “Our clothing is covered in muck. I don’t think it’ll make much difference unless you have a washer and dryer nearby.”

  Niniane smiled, pointing to her linen bag. “I brought us dresses.” Then she jumped into the air, her dark curls trailing behind her, and leapt into the pool.

  Ursula peeled off her nightgown, then leaned over to pull off her boots. In just her knickers, she followed Niniane into the pool. The water closed over her head with an icy splash until she surfaced, sputtering. “It’s bloody freezing,” she muttered.

  “Rinse your hair quickly,” said Niniane.

  Ursula did as instructed—after all, the girl had got her this far alive. Maybe she knew what she was doing. As fast as she could, she rinsed the tunnel-muck from her ginger bob.

  When she’d finished, she pulled herself onto the boulder again, and Niniane passed her a blue dress.

  “Thanks.” Braless, Ursula pulled the silky dress over her head, dismayed to find that it was the perfect size for Niniane—and several sizes too small for her. It hugged her body, and her breasts stretched the bodice fabric. The cleavage situation was out of control. At least the tight bodice would afford her some support.

  “You’re welcome,” said Niniane. She studied Ursula for a while. “I can take you to the ferryman now.”

  Ursula sucked in a deep breath. “I didn’t realize there was a ferry involved. Look, I don’t know what happened to the person I came here with.”

  “I’m sure your friend is fine. As soon as the dragon screamed, everyone ran for the forest. No doubt he fled like the rest.”

  Ursula’s throat tightened as she pulled her boots back on. That doesn’t sound at all like Bael. “I’m sure he is fine, but he would never run from a fight. In any case, I came to Avalon with him, and I’m not leaving without him.”

  “Seems to me like you don’t have much choice.”

  Ursula shook her head. “I came here for answers, too. I’ve got to leave with something. I need some way to fight the dragons.” What she needed most of all was the gods-damned sword to fight the dragon. She hugged herself, weighing her options. Option one was following Niniane to the ferryman—the easy way out. Option two was going back in search of Bael, but she’d be defenseless against the dragon and could put Bael at risk if he felt the need to save her. Or, option three she could go back armed. She could wrestle control over this situation once and for all—maybe she could get this sword to fight the dragons.

  Ursula crossed her arms. “I need you to take me to the Lady of the Lake.” What if she was some sort of Darkling? With the sword, she’d be able to take on an entire army of dragons. And even if she weren’t, the sword was supposed to be the only weapon capable of piercing her flesh.

  Niniane’s eyes widened, and she shook her head. “I can’t do that. You shouldn’t even ask. People might think… people might think you’re someone that you’re not.”

  The Darkling thing again. “Okay. Don’t take me. Just point me in the general direction. I believe she has a sword I need.”

  Niniane backed away, nearly falling into the stream. “No. Please stop asking. Don’t you know the prophecy? The Darkling will a
rrive on our shores, searching for the sword?” She seemed seriously spooked. “Look, maybe I should get back to the queen. The ferryman is just over there.” She pointed to a grove of trees just on the other side of the stream. “You can go on your own. But you must leave. I shouldn’t have taken you this far.”

  Ursula glanced at the grove of trees. When she turned back to Ninian, the girl had already leapt off the rock, and she was sprinting for the forest in a blur.

  “Why are you so scared?” Ursula called.

  But Niniane didn’t answer, her form seeming to shimmer away as she ran.

  Darkling. The word echoed in Ursula’s skull. She’d terrified everyone by asking for the sword in the first place, and then something about her had unnerved both the queen and Merlin. Still—if the sword would give her power, that’s what she needed right now to end this dragon apocalypse.

  Ursula ran after Niniane, but the girl had disappeared like a deer in the underbrush. Ursula called her name, weaving through the apple trees, but after twenty minutes of searching, Ursula only succeeded in finding her way back to the stream. The nighthawk spell would come in handy about now, but she hadn’t managed to memorize it. Still, she needed to find a way to survey the landscape.

  By the edge of the stream, she surveyed her surroundings. She stood on the side of a ridge, the stream cascading down the mountainside, rushing between rocks. Hadn’t Merlin said the Lady of the Lake lived at the peak of the Tor? She didn’t know what Tor meant, but if it had a peak, it had to be a hill of some sort, and if nothing else, climbing higher up the mountain would give her a better vantage point.