Uncertain Allies cg-5

by Mark Del Franco

  She hit the elevator button. “MacGoren’s still using the Receiving Hall as an office. He needs to assert his authority any way he can. Let him pretend he belongs there,” she said.

  We switched to the second elevator bank and arrived at the thirtieth floor. The doors opened to several squads of Guild agents lining the corridor. The air vibrated with sendings as we were ushered along. An agent opened the large door carved with an oak tree with an interlocking crown of branches. MacGoren waited at the end of the sky bridge in a chair in front of the Guildmaster’s seat. For all his pretension, he didn’t have the nerve to sit in the official chair. In the crook of his arm, he cradled the Guild staff of office, a short length of ebony wood tipped with gold and topped with a blue beryl the size of a golf ball.

  He enjoyed watching us make the long walk down the length of the hall. “You have five minutes. Say what you will and be done with it,” macGoren said.

  “This is a trap, Ryan. Vize would not walk in here willingly,” I said.

  MacGoren pretended to dust something off his knee. “A wise man once told me that recognizing a trap was the beginning of avoiding it.”

  “The point was to figure out what the trap was, not to let it close on you. Nigel taught me the same thing, macGoren. You’re about to fail avoiding one,” I said.

  “It is Vize who is trapped, Grey. He can do nothing within these walls without my permission,” macGoren said.

  Briallen stepped closer. “Oh, knock it off, Ryan. You aren’t Guildmaster, no matter how much you wish otherwise. Only Manus ap Eagan has the power to bind anyone here, and while he lives, you keep the seat warm—and not even the actual Guildmaster seat.”

  MacGoren frowned, shots of white essence sparking in his wings. Her words stung, as she’d intended. One of the nice things about being Briallen ab Gwyll was speaking her mind when others feared to do so. “I will not allow this opportunity to pass, Briallen. He’s requested protection from the Elven Court. Maeve will be pleased with this.”

  “Delay this until we’ve had a chance to figure out his game,” she said.

  From the moment I met macGoren, he had been an opportunist. Whether it was money, power, or status, he put himself first. That self-interest had been his downfall on more than one occasion. “MacGoren, I know Vize better than anyone. He doesn’t operate this way. A public ceremony is not his style.”

  MacGoren leaned back, shifting the scepter into the crook of his arm. “He has nothing left, Grey. Even the Consortium hunts him now. The humans will thank me that he did not fall into their hands.”

  Briallen scoffed. “Thank you? Is that what this about, Ryan? Your vanity? You will never be Guildmaster if you put yourself first. I will go to Maeve to stop this. If she doesn’t appoint me Acting Guildmaster, the underKings and -Queens will.”

  MacGoren affected a bored expression. “Feel free, Briallen. Let me know when she gets back to you.”

  The doors to the Receiving Hall slammed open, startling us. Aldred Core strode in, his ceremonial cape flaring behind him. I glanced at Brokke, wondering if he knew that the “ambassador” was going to show. He hardly turned to watch Donor approach, which was enough confirmation that he knew what was going on.

  “I demand an explanation for the detention of Bergin Vize,” Core said.

  MacGoren had the common sense to stand, even if he didn’t know the Elven King was under the glamour. “Ambassador Core, it is a pleasure to have you here again.”

  The fury on Donor’s glamoured face was anything but pleasure. “I asked you a question, Guildmaster.”

  “He’s not really Guildmaster,” I muttered.

  MacGoren pretended not to hear and wore that smug look I hate about him. “No, I believe you made a demand, sir. If you wish an official response, there are official channels you may go through.”

  “This isn’t Aldred Core. You’re standing in front of the Elven King,” I said. Brokke made a small hissing sound under his breath. I ignored him. If Donor was gunning for me, I doubted he had changed his mind.

  MacGoren laughed. The idiot laughed. “Really, Grey, do you expect me to believe the king of the Teutonic fey would be here, and I not know about it?”

  Briallen held up a hand. “Wait, Ryan. My sources have been indicating the Elven King is in the city. If Connor is saying this is Donor, I believe him.”

  I turned to Brokke. “Tell him.”

  Brokke bowed and stepped closer to the window. “I am here as an observer at the request of Her Majesty Eorla Elvendottir.”

  I flinched as the dark mass reacted to my anger. Brokke wasn’t going to help.

  “Ask Eorla, then. She knows,” I said.

  Donor drifted to the window and faced downtown. “The Grand Duchess is on the march here as we speak. I warned you something like this would happen, macGoren. My people are trying to force her to rethink her actions.”

  I went to one of the large windows. Plumes of essence radiated near the financial district by the Rowes Wharf Hotel, the afterimage of essence-fire burn. “What are you trying to pull, Donor? Eorla would not attack the Guild.”

  He gave me a dismissive look. “My name is Aldred Core, sir. I imagine she is mounting a rescue for her foster son. She has always been volatile, as you well know, Guildmaster.”

  I saw the plan now. Donor wasn’t going to let Vize out of his sight, not until he had the faith stone. “Don’t listen to him, macGoren. He’s setting Eorla up.”

  MacGoren returned to his chair. “Enough of this. Eorla is the reason you’re not in chains yourself, Grey. She may have gotten the federal authorities to go away, but she has never acted in our interests. I would believe her no more than that dwarf standing behind you. I need to get this issue out of the way. If Eorla dares to attack, we shall meet her with firm resolve.”

  The flutter of a sending wafted across the hall. Guild agents entered, their chrome helmets gleaming as they marched down the sides of the hall. Another squad took to the air and hovered over the rest, their faces focused on the door. Vize entered, surrounded by four druids. Everything else aside, macGoren had the sense to use his toughest security. A small group followed them, local Court hangers-on, reporters and Guild staffers, their faces avid with the excitement of seeing an international criminal under arrest.

  The dark mass in my head flared with spikes as Vize approached. He grimaced at the same moment. In the battle between us that had cost us our abilities, we both ended up with the darkness inside us. As it had grown inside me, the darkness had spread inside Vize. His entire arm smoldered with it.

  The look he shot me said he hadn’t expected to see me there. His usual self-righteousness seemed shaken. I didn’t buy it. The escorts stopped him shy of the floor medallion. He stared at the glamoured Elven King, hate burning in his eyes before he faced macGoren. I didn’t buy that either, not after Brokke’s refusal to out Donor. They had a plan. “I seek protection from the Seelie Court,” Vize said.

  “On what basis should we grant you such a thing?” macGoren asked.

  “I face death at the hands of the Consortium should I return to my homeland,” he said.

  “That is a lie, sir,” said Donor.

  MacGoren ignored him. “Many people fear such a fate. Why would the Consortium seek your death?”

  “Maybe because he’s a mass murderer?” I said.

  MacGoren frowned. I was ruining his drama. “I asked you a question,” he said.

  “Treason, sir. I have failed my king’s orders, and he contrives to accuse me of his own crimes,” he said.

  “And what orders were these?” macGoren asked.

  Vize cocked his head back and tried to restrain a smile. “The destruction of the Seelie Court and the death of High Queen Maeve.”

  Gasps, some genuine, rose from the observers. I saw what macGoren was after. Accusing Donor in public for directing assassination plots against Maeve would take attention away from the missteps the Guild had made in Boston. It was a stupid blunder. The me
dia victory for the High Queen would blow over, but Vize wasn’t ever going to provide any real information about his terrorist network, not after all he had done to destroy Maeve. He wanted her dead as much as Donor did.

  “What an idiot,” I muttered.

  I’ve been trying to tell him, but he’s ignoring my sendings, Briallen sent.

  “These are grievous claims, sir,” macGoren said.

  Vize bowed his head. “I am ashamed for how I’ve been manipulated by the Elven King. In humility, I ask for the High Queen’s aid.”

  MacGoren gestured with the scepter. “You ask for protection?”

  Briallen cleared her throat. “My lord, as a director of this Guildhouse and a member of the Seelie Court, may I speak?”

  MacGoren glared. As much as he didn’t want to allow it, he wasn’t about to silence Briallen ab Gwyll in front of reporters. “Pray, be brief, Lady Gwyll.”

  “This man is not known for his honesty. Before you grant him protection, a formal investigation into his claims would be in order.”

  “I hear your words, lady, and consider them. This man is well-known to the Guild and the Seelie Court. He would not come to us were he not in fear of his life, I think,” macGoren said.

  “Then arrest him for the crimes of which he is accused, sir. We can assess his words best with deliberation than grant him protection in haste,” she said.

  He made a point of shifting in his seat to face away from her. “Thank you, Lady Gwyll. We have noted your suggestion and will let the record show it. Bergin Vize, you must know that this protection does not excuse you from any crimes committed against the Seelie Court. Do you still seek protection under this understanding?”

  “I do, sir,” he said.

  See, I know what I’m doing, macGoren sent us.

  Briallen let me hear her response sending. Leaving the door open to prosecute him doesn’t explain why he’s doing this, Ryan.

  MacGoren ignored her as he stood. “I represent Her Majesty, High Queen Maeve at Tara. In her name, I extend you protection. Bow before me in this place and address yourself to the High Queen’s seal.”

  Vize complied, going to one knee before the three cups in the floor tiling. The black mass spiked in my head, and I let out an involuntary gasp.

  Briallen took my arm. “What is it?” she asked in a low voice.

  “The dark mass is shifting in my head. He’s doing something,” I said.

  Briallen moved closer to macGoren. “Ryan—please—don’t go near him.”

  A murmur rose among the people who heard her. MacGoren paused, anger building in his face as white shots of essence danced in his wings. “Enough, Briallen. You’ve said your piece.”

  He lifted the scepter. “Bergin Vize, I grant you protection of Her Majesty, High Queen Maeve at Tara.”

  I clutched my head against the pain as Vize rose, a smile on his face. His arm snaked forward as shadowed darkness and wrapped around the scepter. The blue beryl shattered from his touch. Startled, macGoren tried to pull away. With a flick of his arm, the shadow undulated and yanked the scepter from macGoren’s hand. Vize slammed the ebony rod down on Maeve’s seal in the floor. White essence burst from the fractured tiles and threw me against the wall.

  37

  I stumbled to my knees, gasping as pain sliced through my mind. White light blinded me, pure essence searing the air. The marbled floor pressed hard and cool against my palms as I fought the urge to throw up. The dark mass jumped and shifted in my mind with no discernible purpose, like a trapped animal struggling to escape. I shook my head, trying to clear it, trying to see around me. Several feet away, Briallen crouched, holding macGoren by the shoulders as he pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes.

  The light from the floor intensified and rose in a ball of brilliant white. A spot like a deep blue star burned in its midst, smoldering with power. The essence dimmed, coalescing into a piece of triangular blue crystal, its edges flickering with a deep forest green. The white aura diminished as my eyes adjusted, the spot resolving into a stone hanging in the air.

  Donor Elfenkonig stared at the stone, cold satisfaction on his face. Vize stood to one side, clutching his blackened arm against his waist. If the pain in my head was any indication, Vize was fighting to keep his own darkness from escaping. Donor reached out and closed his hand around the stone, incandescent light bleeding out between his fingers. The essence flickered and vanished.

  A deep moan rattled through the air. The floor trembled beneath my feet, my vision blotched by the sudden absence of the essence light. Donor turned in confusion as cracks spiraled from the shattered floor medallion. The walls twisted on their moorings, shattering the long ranks of windows. I stumbled, ducking to avoid shards of glass. Winds blew from every direction as the hall was exposed to the outside. An electric static ran through the air.

  “The shield dome’s down!” someone shouted.

  It wasn’t true. I forced myself to stand. I sensed that the dome had weakened, but it remained. The release of the faith stone had damaged it somehow. A ripple ran through the floor, and a fissure opened as I struggled to Briallen’s side.

  “MacGoren’s blinded. We have to get him out of here,” she shouted above the howling of the wind. Briallen hardened her body shield around her and macGoren. With a screech, the sky bridge separated from its moorings, splitting open to the outside. The floor canted down, and I grabbed Briallen as she lost her footing. We struggled to hold macGoren, pulling up as the floor sloped away from the main part of the building. With a gut-wrenching lurch, the floor gave way. I sailed through the air and landed hard on a fractured ledge outside the building.

  Above me, the sky bridge remained attached to the opposite tower by thin cabling, but moved in a slow swing away from the main portion of the Guildhouse. On the tower side of the gap, Briallen struggled to hold an unconscious macGoren from sliding off the bridge. She secured him against a fallen column.

  “Don’t move. I’ll come get you,” she shouted down to me.

  A cloud of essence blossomed around her as she rose in the air. Another shudder ran through the building, and macGoren slipped from the column toward the broken edge of the bridge. Briallen hesitated, then settled back to pull him to safety. The thick tower in front of me swayed. “Get macGoren out of here. I’ll be fine.”

  We’re thirty floors up, she sent.

  “I don’t care about macGoren. You do. Get him out of here. I’m going after them,” I shouted against the wind.

  Briallen stared toward the sky. Guild agents whirled in confusion around the damaged bridge. Another chunk crumbled, plunging through a roof below, which collapsed inward and pulled a section of turrets with it. The center of the hall bridge fell away, smashing into the main building. “You can’t stand up to the Elven King,” Briallen said.

  The dark mass pressed against the inside of my skull, and I relaxed against it. It pierced my eye with searing pain. I coaxed it into dark ribbons that coiled around me, a trick I’d picked up when I touched Vize in the Tangle. “Watch me.”

  The tower shuddered. Briallen stared at me, fear and uncertainty on her face. You can control it, she sent. It wasn’t quite true. I could push it in certain directions, but “control” was an overstatement.

  “Stop delaying,” I yelled, and started climbing. The damage gave me plenty of handholds as I pulled myself toward the remains of the Receiving Hall. Black-clad Dananns swooped in overhead. They tumbled back into the sky as emerald essence flashed out from the ledge, a blast of elf-shot more powerful than any I had ever sensed.

  I pulled myself over the remains of the overhang. Behind the Guildmaster’s chair, still glamoured as Aldred Core, huddled Donor, with the stone clutched to his chest. His body shield was warping and flashing around him. Vize stood a few feet away, dark shadows slicing the air as they stabbed at the remaining Guild agents.

  I could use some help, Grey, Brokke’s voice reverberated in my head.

  I craned my neck, searc
hing the debris.

  Down here, he sent. I leaned back over the ledge. A dozen feet down, Brokke dangled from a section of broken floor. He had fused his fingers into the stone. The building shook again, and the stone shifted farther down the side.

  “Fuse the slab to the building,” I shouted.

  Brokke bowed his head against the stone. Been trying. Too much stone.

  “Hold on. I’ll get a Danann,” I said.

  I scrambled back from the edge. The Receiving Hall was a haze of essence as agents exchanged fire with Donor and Vize. A steady vibration built beneath my feet, and I stumbled again. A burst of essence flashed from the end of the hall. I slipped, rolling back toward the edge.

  Listen to Bastian, but trust Eagan, Grey, Brokke sent.

  Brokke’s slab had levered out into space. He pulled a hand free and pressed it into the stone farther up. With painstaking slowness, he dragged himself toward the building. The wall shuddered, and the slab slid. I thrust out my hands, opened my mind to tap into my abilities to extend ribbons of essence and grab Brokke. I screamed as the black mass spiked like claws and shut me down. I fell forward, clutching the edge of the floor.

  I watched in horror as the slab broke free. In silence, it tumbled end over end, with Brokke clinging to it. He vanished in an explosion of dust a hundred feet below.

  Angry, I knelt back against my feet. The black mass burned with sharp intensity. I held my breath, calming myself. It didn’t help. The mass trembled with spikes, piercing my mind again and again. My body essence retreated before it, crumbling under the strain.

  White essence jolted through me like a stroke of lightning. A sharp white line appeared in my mind, pulsing with power. I recognized that essence. The spear had reestablished its bond with me. Dizzy, I retreated from the edge and faced the remains of the Receiving Hall. The spear whirled in Vize’s hand as he fended off Guild agents. Sliding his grip to its base, he swept the spear around him, scattering more agents. With a pivot, he brought the spear to a stop, point ready for the next opponent, when he saw me.