CHAPTER
FIFTEEN

NEAR AS I CAN TELL, THE MAGIC IS BURNING YOU out, using up your reserves. Your body can’t survive this for too long. It’s not possible to get enough rest or food to make up for what it’s taking,” Zaryae said, standing back to have a look at Blaine. “So figure every day is a step closer to your grave until we can change the way the magic is anchored. Your bond with Penhallow will help, but the energy he can feed you through the kruvgaldur isn’t enough to counter the drain.”

“You’re certain the magic is causing it?” Kestel asked sharply.

Zaryae grimaced. “From the signs I find, yes.” She met Blaine’s gaze. “So it’s not something you can put off solving. You’ll do no one a favor dying before your time.”

“Can it be stopped?” Blaine asked. “Or slowed?” He wondered if he looked as tired and worn as he felt. It had been so much easier to blame the discomfort, fatigue, and headaches on the constant skirmishing and the storms than to think about them being a price to be paid for anchoring the magic. A steep price.

“That’s what we’re here to find out,” Rikard replied. Since Dagur had left Glenreith to work with Niklas and the Knights, Rikard was now the senior mage in charge. Thin, fussy, and short-tempered, he had been a mage in a noble house before the Great Fire. Rumor had it he survived by hiding in a barn, something Rikard hotly denied.

They were gathered at Glenreith, Blaine’s lands, in the rooms he had outfitted for the mages’ workshop. Glenreith had two manor houses: the original home, now largely in ruins from time and the effects of the Great Fire, and the new house, still several centuries old and damaged from the Cataclysm’s toll. Little of the old, original home was still standing, but part of the first-floor wing remained, used for storage until Blaine reclaimed it for the mages.

The walls of the main room were stained from age and the elements. Glass had been replaced in the windows, and the floors had been scrubbed, but the rooms still smelled of disuse. The fireplace barely seemed to take the chill off the room. Several scarred worktables and a collection of mismatched stools and chairs gathered from around the manor furnished the rooms, together with a variety of lamps and lanterns. The mages’ sleeping quarters were in the new manor, though Blaine saw they had set up cots in the second room for long workdays.

“You think a null-magic charm will help?” Blaine asked warily. “What if it knocks the magic loose again? Having it anchored is bad, but having it out of control is worse. We don’t need that again.”

“It will be out of control if we don’t get the anchoring right and the strain of it kills you,” Kestel reproved. “Or if someone decides to kill you to get rid of magic once and for all.”

“How can magic ‘null’ magic?” Blaine asked.

“The same way a forest fire may be contained by starting another, controlled fire along its edge,” Rikard replied. “The original fire can’t ‘jump’ the second fire and the fire brigade has to be careful to make certain the new fire can’t spread. Eventually, both fires run out of fuel and die out.”

“A null charm counters magic with other magic,” Treven Lowrey said, and his tone warned them he was about to launch into professorial discourse. He had not yet forgiven Rikard for being named senior mage, an honor Lowrey coveted. “But since the ‘tamed’ magic you’ve anchored is the source of the problem, perhaps a bit of ‘wild’ magic—properly contained—might be enough to blunt the effect of the anchoring.”

Zaryae sighed at the two master mages’ posturing and looked away. The other three mages, Artan, Nemus, and Leiv, busied themselves with their projects to avoid being dragged into the fight. By now, Blaine assumed, they should be used to it. Rikard and Lowrey seemed incapable of breathing the same air for more than ten minutes without sniping at each other.

“If the null charm works, it could blunt the effects of the magic until you can find a way to change how the power is anchored,” Kestel said.

“How reliable are the manuscripts you used to create the null?” Zaryae asked suspiciously.

“It would take very careful adjustment—if it could be done at all,” Artan mused. He was short and squat as a cistern, with a broad face and small, piggy eyes.

“A stasis charm, perhaps?” Nemus asked, joining the group. Long-limbed and jug-eared, Nemus loped across the room. “Maybe something that would shield Lord McFadden from magic used around him, while not disturbing the anchor itself.”

Lowrey peered at Blaine over the top of his wire-rimmed spectacles. “Can you tell whether the workings we’re doing here in the manor are affecting him?” he asked, glancing at Zaryae.

“Of course it’s affecting him,” Zaryae replied, tossing her dark braid over one shoulder as she spoke. “Just keeping the magic harnessed is part of the drain. Any magic that’s done near him—large or small—makes it worse, and the closer it is, the harder it goes on him.”

“I am sitting here, and I can hear you,” Blaine interrupted drily. “And since I’m the poor bloke who has to live with the bond, I get a say in what we do about it,” he added.

“Then, tell us what you want, Lord McFadden,” Rikard said. “And we will endeavor to do it.”

Blaine sighed. “Finding a different way to anchor the magic is the important part. I know that Dolan thinks he’s onto something at Mirdalur, and maybe he is. But there are two parts. ‘Where?’ Dolan may have answered. ‘How?’ is the piece we don’t seem to know yet—and time is running out.”

“Quintrel was certain that the presence-crystals and the obsidian disks would be enough, together,” Lowrey said.

“Quintrel was being controlled by a divi,” Kestel retorted. “That means we can trust him even less than usual. Who knows what the divi really wants?”

“We had the disks at Valshoa, and it wasn’t enough,” Blaine replied. “The Wraith Lord is the only one who actually remembers the last time the magic was restored. They’d used the disks, but since he didn’t help prepare the chamber, he told Dagur that he couldn’t be certain other artifacts weren’t involved.”

Rikard held up a small lead box. “This is the null charm, or more correctly a dampening charm. It doesn’t remove or block magic altogether. I tried it personally, to no ill effect, either while I wore it or when I removed it.”

“We all tried it,” Artan said. “Well, all of us except for him,” he added with a glare toward Lowrey.

“It was essential to preserve someone in their unaltered condition,” Lowrey said with a sniff. “I volunteered to forgo any beneficial effects for the sake of the experiment.”

Blaine doubted that ‘beneficial effects’ had been uppermost in Lowrey’s mind, but said nothing.

Lowrey rolled his eyes. “Here,” he said. “Give it to me.” He snatched the charm from Rikard and slipped his head through the leather loop that held it. Everyone stood in silence for a moment while Lowrey did a turn in place.

“See?” He said. “No harm done.” He removed the charm and held it between his hands for a moment. “No negative energy at all,” he said. He put the charm into the box and slipped it into his pocket.

“The point being, four—five—of us have tried the charm and suffered no harm,” Rikard replied testily.

Zaryae nodded. “I can attest to that,” she said. “I checked the mages who used it before and after they wore the charm. The charm lessened their magical ability, but didn’t remove it completely. When they took the charm off, their power returned to its previous strength, and no one suffered ill effects.”

“All right,” Blaine said, reaching out his hand. “Let’s get this over with. Give it to me.”

Rikard clucked his tongue and shook his head. “Not quite like that, m’lord. Precautions must be taken.”

He led them into a small room off the main work space. A circle had been marked with salt and rope in the center of the room. Blaine noted a variety of protective stones, crystals, and dried herbs hanging from the room’s rafters, and the air smelled of burned sage.

“If you’ll stand in the center of the circle—step over the warding, don’t smudge it,” Rikard warned, “then open the box and remove the charm. If you feel any untoward effects, replace the charm in the box and close it.”

Zaryae stood just outside the circle. “I don’t know what effect the null charm will have on my ability to sense your safety, but I will watch over you the best I can,” she said. “If something worries me, I’ll signal. If I do, put the charm away.”

Blaine nodded. Kestel touched his arm and gave a wan smile. “I’ll keep an eye on the door. No one will bother us.” He gave her hand a squeeze.

Rikard looked around. “Where’s the charm?”

Lowrey withdrew the box from his pocket. “Not to worry,” he said. “Step across the warding, and I’ll hand it to Blaine.”

Blaine squared his shoulders and took a deep breath, then stepped into the circle. Lowrey came close enough that his toes touched the line, and handed the box to Blaine, then backed away.

Blaine flipped the box open and withdrew the charm. His heart was pounding, and he had to think to slow his breathing. Nervous energy tingled through his skin, making him jumpy and sending his thoughts racing. It took conscious effort to be aware of how the magic felt, the tingling energy that coursed through his blood, a feeling that had become oddly familiar, and then he focused on what was going on outside the circle.

Zaryae was closest, watching him with concern, but so far she was making no gestures to indicate danger. Kestel stood to the side of the door, a blade in each hand, her back against the wall, eyes on Blaine within the circle. Lowrey had retreated until he was in the farthest corner of the room, watching Blaine as if he might burst into flame at any moment. Artan, Nemus, and Leiv stood a pace or two behind Zaryae at the three other quarters of the circle, intently watching to see what would happen.

“It’s wrong,” Zaryae said, eyes widening. “Blaine! Something’s wrong. Close the box!” Her words were drowned out as Lowrey backed into a worktable full of metal bowls, sending them all scattering across the wooden floor in a cacophony. Nemus gestured for Rikard to look at one of the artifacts, which was pulsing with blue light. Artan stepped up to take Rikard’s place.

For an instant, Blaine felt a release as the pressure of anchoring the magic lifted. The strain melted away, the tingling fire faded, and a sense of well-being filled him, clean and rejuvenating.

Without warning, the pressure returned, smothering and heavy. Blaine’s heart raced, and he struggled to draw shallow breaths. His blood felt like it was on fire, energy coursing through his body. He stumbled, almost dropping the heavy leaded box. Outside the warded circle, Zaryae was calling to him and gesturing. Kestel started toward the circle, but Lowrey blundered into her way. Dimly, he heard them arguing.

The artifacts on the table suddenly activated. Some pieces flashed colored light, while others began to tremble or hum. Nemus, Leiv, and Rikard circled the table, doing their best to contain the errant objects.

Streaks of light crackled from the box and charm in Blaine’s hand, sizzling across the room. Wood burst and glass shattered as the light flared, arcing in every direction. One of the bolts hit Artan and he fell, screaming, clutching for the seared skin of his back where his robes had been burned away.

The guards pounded at the door, but it was locked, a precaution to keep the ritual from being interrupted. Kestel and the others had thrown themselves to the floor to stay out of the way of the streaks of light, but Kestel was crawling toward the circle, trying to get to Blaine.

“The warding’s broken!” she shouted.

Smoke and the tang of lightning filled the air in the room. Wind gusted in through the broken window. Another arc struck perilously close to Rikard, who shrieked and dove beneath the heavy worktable. Lowrey cowered in the farthest corner, watching through the space between his arms, which he had put up in front of himself to cover his face and head.

Zaryae crawled toward Rikard and grabbed him by the collar, hauling him out of his refuge. “Counter the magic!” she ordered, and hurled him toward the circle.

Blood thundered in Blaine’s ears. His vision dimmed, limned in darkness. Chest heaving, he dropped to his knees, struggling to close the box. The heavy lead lid clanged shut, and Blaine collapsed, falling facedown on the wooden floor as the shouts around him faded into silence.

Blaine woke slowly, fighting off coldness as frigid as the winter sea. His body felt as leaden as the null charm’s box, inert and too heavy to move. After the way his heartbeat had hammered in his head, it now felt sluggish, as if his blood were too thick to move easily. Breathing came easier, but every movement hurt. The headache was back, pounding and relentless. He yearned for the peaceful darkness, but it had receded beyond his grasp. Blaine lay still, not yet ready to try to open his eyes.

“He’s coming around.” Rikard sounded tired.

“Can you tell if the working did any damage?” Kestel barely controlled her anger. She’s angriest when she’s frightened, he thought.

“We’ll know soon enough, when he wakes up,” Rikard replied.

Blaine opened his mouth to say something in response, but all he managed was a groan. Opening his eyes was a struggle, but he managed to get them half-lidded, enough to see. He was back in his room at Glenreith, in the new mansion. Kestel paced the floor at the foot of his bed. Rikard stood on the other side, arms crossed, looking much less sure of himself than the last time Blaine had seen him. Lowrey watched from the other side of the room. Artan, Nemus, and Leiv were not present.

Kestel stopped pacing and turned to look at him. Her expression made it clear that if he did not recover, Rikard probably would not remain in good health. She took Blaine’s hand. “He’s warming up,” she said, although Blaine himself still felt thoroughly chilled. “Heartbeat is steady,” she added, pressing her fingers into the groove in Blaine’s wrist. “Breathing isn’t as shallow.”

“I don’t understand,” Rikard muttered, and from the way he said it, Blaine bet that this was not the first time. “Five of us tried that null charm personally, in the same warded circle, under the same room protections.”

“None of you were a Lord of the Blood, or were anchoring all the magic of the Continent,” Kestel snapped. “That might account for the difference.”

Rikard shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe. But we have no better way to test the artifacts, and at least we ruled out several much more dangerous approaches before Lord McFadden could get hurt.”

“ ‘More dangerous’?” Kestel’s voice was strained. “His heart stopped. How does it get more dangerous?”

“The bickering can wait,” Rikard chastised. “What matters is that he’s stable, and getting stronger.” He sighed. “The magic that holds the anchoring is back. For an instant, in the circle, it was gone. Now I can feel the magic flowing through him.

“And that’s what I think caused the problem,” Rikard went on. “For that instant, all that power, the wild visithara magic, was anchorless again, and then it surged to root itself, and the shock of it caused the reaction.”

“Whatever caused it, we still don’t have an answer, and Blaine can’t go on like this forever,” Kestel replied through gritted teeth. “So we need a different answer, and we need it fast.”

“I know, I know.” Rikard actually sounded contrite. “I was just so sure…” He shook his head. “I’ll go back and have another look at the null charm, and then the manuscripts. We might have had the right idea, just not gotten the right charm or the best conditions.” He gathered his cloak and opened the door to the hallway. “I’ll let you know what I find.”

It‘s so much easier to listen than to speak, Blaine thought. But once Rikard left, Kestel turned her full attention to him.

“That didn’t go well.” His voice was scratchy, and his mouth was dry, but he managed to get the words out.

Kestel laid a hand on his shoulder. “You didn’t die. It could have gone worse.”

“Where’s Zaryae?” Blaine asked.

“In her room, resting,” Kestel replied. “She said she didn’t feel well. And she said to tell you she thinks the charm became corrupted.” She sighed. “Zaryae’s blaming herself. At the last minute, she had a vision of danger, but it was too late to stop what was happening.” She shook her head. “I didn’t want to say anything in front of Rikard, but tomorrow, I want her to take a look at that charm. I’d like to see what she can read from it.”

Kestel let her fingers drift across his cheek. “Judith and Mari were in to see you,” she said.

“I don’t remember,” Blaine murmured.

“Mari said that Dawe needs to talk to you, once you’re up to it,” Kestel added. “There’s another big storm coming.” She stood and stretched. “Zaryae is going to help the mages cast preservation spells on the provisions.”

Blaine groaned as he shifted position, and Kestel looked concerned. “How do you feel?”

“Awful.”

Kestel chuckled. “You keep giving us a scare.”

“Me, too.”

The door to the hallway opened and Niklas peered in. “Kestel, can I see you for a moment?”

She squeezed Blaine’s hand. “I won’t be long.” She gave him a worried look. “Dolan had better be right about Mirdalur, and Rikard needs to figure out the magic, because things can’t go on like this,” Kestel fretted, and left with Niklas.

“It won’t,” Blaine replied, slipping back toward sleep. It can’t. Because we’ll either fix it or I’ll die.

Blaine was half-asleep when he heard the click of the bolt thrown in the lock. He was groggy, and in the lee of the botched magic, it was hard to think clearly. Dimly, he remembered that Kestel was gone, but he strained in the gloom to make out the figure that stood near the door.

“Don’t fight the magic,” Lowrey said quietly. “You’ll sleep soon enough.”

“Not… going… to sleep,” Blaine managed.

Lowrey gave him an unsettling smile. “Yes, you are,” he said. “Don’t blame Rikard for what happened. I changed the charm he gave you. It was supposed to kill you.” He shrugged. “But since it didn’t, here we are.”

“Why?” Blaine asked hoarsely. He felt as if he were struggling through a haze.

“Vigus has no need for you since Dolan stole the artifacts and the attempts to kidnap you failed,” Lowrey said, moving toward him. “He’d rather see you dead, and the magic gone wild again, than lose control of the anchor.”

Lowrey pulled a long, thin knife from his robe. “Since magic alone didn’t work the last time, we’ll do this the old-fashioned way.”

Blaine struggled to rise, but invisible hands pushed him back. His confusion was not lost on Lowrey. “You didn’t think I had it in me, did you?” Lowrey mocked. “None of you. Not even Penhallow, I wager.”

His expression turned ugly. “Lowrey, the lackey. Lowrey, the joke. You don’t know how many times I wanted to show all of you what I could really do.”

“You… Quintrel… all along,” Blaine whispered.

“Very good,” Lowrey sneered. “You’re smarter than you look. Took you long enough. Vigus said it would.”

Blaine threw himself to one side, managing to fall off the bed on the side opposite Lowrey. Lowrey swore at the inconvenience. “You don’t have to suffer. I just want to finish what I started. When your heart stops, you’ll barely feel it.”

Blaine struggled against the magic that held him. Lowrey had increased the strength of the invisible bonds, so that even rolling was beyond what Blaine could manage now. Lowrey reached the bed, and circled it. A few more steps, and it would be over.

The door to Blaine’s room blew apart, sending a hail of splinters flying. Zaryae and Rikard stood outside, with Kestel a step behind and Niklas running to catch up.

“What in the name of the gods?” Lowrey blustered.

Kestel’s hand flicked, and two daggers embedded themselves into Lowrey’s chest.

Lowrey snarled and sent a blast of power toward the spot where Kestel had been standing. Zaryae and Rikard blocked the strike. Kestel was gone, moving in a blur as she dove and rolled, coming up behind Lowrey and sinking a shiv deep into his back. Her right hand moved too fast to follow, drawing a blade across Lowrey’s throat. She jerked her shiv free and pushed Lowrey forward. His head lolled to one side, and his body collapsed to the floor in a pool of blood.

Rikard raised his hand, and an arc of power struck Lowrey’s body, causing it to shrivel and blacken as if burning on a pyre. “That’s for Artan,” he muttered.

Kestel crossed to the empty bed and circled it. “Blaine’s alive! He’s over here, on the floor.”

Free of Lowrey’s geas, Blaine was struggling to his feet as Kestel bent to help him up. Niklas and Rikard reached him seconds later. “You all right?” Niklas asked, looking him up and down for signs of blood.

“Almost wasn’t,” Blaine rasped. Lowrey’s magic no longer constrained him, but he felt the rough power of the botched working in every muscle and sinew.

He dropped heavily into the bed as the world around him spun. “How did you know?” he asked.

Bloodied to her elbows, Kestel sauntered over to Lowrey’s cloak near the door and wiped her blades clean. Then she walked over to the washstand and calmly rinsed the blood from her arms.

“Thank Zaryae,” she said. “Niklas came to get me because he thought Judith was calling for me. But when we got to the kitchen, Judith said she wasn’t. That’s when Zaryae came looking for us because she had a premonition, and we found the door to your room was locked from inside.”

“Quintrel sent him,” Blaine said, closing his eyes. “If Quintrel couldn’t own the anchor, he wanted to destroy it.”

“Figures,” Niklas muttered. He glanced toward Kestel. “So all those stories I heard, about Falke the Assassin, they were true.”

Kestel’s lips quirked in a smile. “You bet. And the best stories never got told.”

“I’m really, really glad you’re watching his back,” Niklas said. “But to spare you some of the trouble, I’ll post two guards at all times outside the room.”

“I’m not leaving here without Mick,” Kestel said, flopping down on the other side of the bed.

“We’ll make sure the room is warded—properly, this time,” Rikard added. “And now that we know Lowrey tampered with the null charm, we’ll start again. I do think it will work—when we don’t have someone working against us.”

“Thank you,” Blaine whispered, too tired to keep his eyes open. “I didn’t think I was going to make it out of that one.” Kestel might have responded, but by then, Blaine was asleep.

Blaine insisted on sitting up the next day, and forced himself to eat the food Judith sent for him. Dawe Killick came in on the heels of the servant who took away the breakfast dishes.

“Good to see you awake and breathing,” Dawe said with a grin. Tall and lanky with dark hair and a lopsided grin, Dawe had been one of Blaine’s inner circle in Velant and as a colonist in Edgeland.

“Good to be awake and breathing,” Blaine replied. His voice had lost its scratchiness, and the all-over achiness had faded, but Zaryae had cautioned him to rest, and for once, he did not feel like arguing.

“I’ll make it easy on you,” Dawe offered. “You sit there while I talk. Nod if you like it, shake your head if you don’t. That way Kestel can’t have my head for bothering you on your sickbed.”

Blaine chuckled. “Go ahead.”

“Whenever I haven’t been in the forge, I’ve been working with Edward and one of Niklas’s lieutenants on getting provisions,” Dawe said. “We’ve sent teams of soldiers to gather whatever seed, tools, livestock, and food was left behind. And when I’m not forging weapons, I’ve been working on hoes, plows, and the other tools we’ll need to get crops in the ground and tend them till harvest.”

“Thank Charrot,” Blaine said. I’m the lord of the manor, but I’ve been so busy with war, I haven’t been here long enough to see to the things that need to be done so we can eat, Blaine thought.

“I’m much more useful here at Glenreith in the forge making swords than out on the field swinging one around,” Dawe said. “I have no illusions about my skill as a warrior.” Dawe grinned. “But I’m getting better at brewing whiskey, which Mari and I have been working on.” Dawe sat back in his chair. “It’s going to be a while before we see good wine again, considering what the Great Fire and all the fighting did to the vineyards. But Mari’s been helping Edward and some of the servants with plans to make wine out of whatever fruit and berries we can grow or gather, come harvest.

“We haven’t had a lot of grain to spare for ale, but with luck, a good harvest will fix that,” Dawe continued. “But we did scavenge beets and potatoes and we’ve managed to brew up some drinkable liquor.

“If we can keep it up, we’ll not only have wine, ale, and liquor for our own use, but it’s something we can trade for anything we can’t make.” He sighed. “Until the crops are in and producing, we don’t have much to barter with.”

“What about the forge?” Blaine asked.

Dawe grinned. “Niklas’s lieutenant found some soldiers with blacksmithing experience. He sends them up to me here a few days a week to help forge weapons and tools, and I go down to the camp the other days to help the farrier shoe the horses.”

Blaine nodded to keep up his side of the conversation, moving gingerly to keep his headache from getting worse.

“We’re not the only ones trying to get crops in the field and rebuild,” Dawe went on. “We’ve been sending soldiers out to the villages and farms on your lands, to warn them and help them prepare for the storms. If their crops and livestock get destroyed, we won’t be able to grow enough on the manor’s fields to supply the household, the army, and the surrounding villages, too.

“Been shoring up our own barns, too. Have to, with how bad the storms are, and how often they come. I sure hope you can fix that somehow, Mick,” Dawe added, “because it’s bad, and it’s getting worse.” He brightened. “And then there are the plans for the wedding, but Kestel and Judith swore me to secrecy.”

“Everything set?” Blaine asked.

Dawe nodded. “Everything’s ready. Now we just need to get the groom back on his feet.” Dawe sobered. “One thing you should know, Mick. Carr’s back. Just got in last night, looking like he’d been dragged by a wagon, but he’s here. He’s acting cagey, but I don’t think Niklas knows where he is.”

He looked worried. “Be careful. Even Judith’s nervous, although she won’t send him away. Kestel’s not letting him out of her sight. Even so, watch your back around him, Mick.”

“Thanks for the warning. I’ll watch out.”

“I know he’s your brother, but I wouldn’t count on that if I were you,” Dawe cautioned.

I don’t, for anything but trouble, Blaine thought.