Chapter Sixteen

The phooka’s claw had dug into his arm and slashed downward, creating a long gash. The moment Elizabeth’s concentration wavered, the portal winked out of sight. She said some words that no lady should even know. Apparently her modifications to the spell meant that the portal was completely attuned to her consciousness.

I did it once. I can do it again.

Doing her best to ignore the sounds of the battle, Elizabeth focused her will, chanting the spell and drawing on the ether once more. The new portal was a little more solid but still translucent. She could see the brick of the garden wall through it, but she could also glimpse the goblin world. Hopefully that would be sufficient.

Next she needed to draw the goblin toward the portal; Hurst’s command of the creature meant that it could not return of its own free will.

This was the trickiest part; nobody alive had ever performed this banishment spell. Perhaps Elizabeth was a fool to think she could do it, but she was a desperate fool.

The key was drawing ether from inside the gate and wrapping it around the goblin. She reached out with a mental “hand” to grasp strands of ether visible in the goblin world framed by the portal. When her mind touched the alien ether, she nearly recoiled. Goblin ether was quite different, far more powerful. Touching it was like grabbing a whip made of flames.

She forced herself to reach out and grab the strands again. This time she was prepared for the raw power it exuded. It burned painfully, but she only tightened her hold. Carefully, she stretched the ether from the portal toward the goblin.

One of the beast’s huge paws knocked William flat and held him down. The right head swooped down, fangs extended for a bite. Desperation gave Elizabeth strength. Gritting her teeth against the pain, she looped the strands of ether around the phooka’s three necks, once, twice, three times. The beast howled and looked away from William, trying to identify the source of this new attack.

Hopefully these etheric strands would be sufficient; she could not maintain her grip on the fiery ether much longer. Now she dragged the strands of ether back toward the portal, pulling the goblin along with it.

The ether slid easily through the gate, happily returning to its “home.” But, caught by the imperative of Hurst’s spell, the goblin dug its feet into the garden’s soil, resisting the ether’s pull. Elizabeth was beginning to lose her grip on the strands. She fed more of her power into her imaginary “arms,” strengthening them to continue pulling on the ether. Energy drained out of her like blood from a wound. It was more than she could afford, but this was the only way to save William and everyone else.

Despite its best efforts, the goblin continued to be dragged toward the portal. It slid a foot, two feet… Elizabeth poured more energy into tightening her hold of the ether. The phooka screeched in protest as it slid several feet closer to the gate. Fortunately, the ether’s pull grew stronger as the goblin came closer to the portal.

Rather belatedly Mr. Hurst realized he was in danger of losing his protection. He had been cowering behind the phooka, but now the mage hastily threw his own etheric bonds around the goblin, pulling it in the opposite direction. For a moment the goblin stopped moving altogether. Elizabeth poured still more energy into dragging the beast toward the portal.

Although it thrashed and fought, the creature moved once more toward the portal. Mr. Hurst continued to pull in the opposite direction. Elizabeth nearly giggled. They were playing tug of phooka.

As the goblin drew closer to the portal, its movement accelerated. It moved faster and faster until it fairly flew through the portal, which swallowed the beast with an audible pop. The phooka instantly appeared in the goblin world’s rocky landscape. It turned back toward Hurst and emitted an earth-shattering roar before shaking itself, dog-like, extending its wings, and flying into the bright pink sky and out of view. Banishing the creature had taken every ounce of Elizabeth’s energy, but that sight had made it worth it.

Black spots dotted her vision, and she nearly lost her grip on the tree branch, wrapping her arms around it just in time. Was this how magical depletion felt?

Her only remaining task was to close the portal, severing its connection to her so it would no longer drain her energy. Elizabeth released her hold on the spell, letting the ether slide from her grasp, but it clung to her magic. Even as she tried to cut the bond to the portal, she could sense the strange, alien ether clinging to her, drawing more and more power from her like a bleeding wound.

This is where hubris and inexperience have led me, she thought. I attempted a life-threatening spell without adequate preparation. But she could not bring herself to regret her actions. William and everyone else would be safe from the goblin.

She clung to that belief as darkness encroached around the edges of her sight. Her grip on the branch loosened; her fingers would not obey her commands. Then everything went black.

***

Darcy had turned toward the cherry tree just in time to see Elizabeth fall out of it onto the bushes underneath. He started toward her, but Bingley grabbed his arm and shook his head. Hurst still remained a threat. And then there was the matter of the portal. Darcy did not know why it remained open, but hostile goblins could emerge at any time.

Well, the sooner Hurst was dealt with, the sooner Darcy could go to Elizabeth. He advanced on the mage with his sword out. “Surrender now and the Convocation will give you a fair trial.”

Hurst had lost his coat somewhere, and his linen shirt was soaked through with perspiration. Tangled hair was plastered to his forehead under his hat. The mage had the brick wall at his back, standing only a few feet from the portal. “A fair trial?” he scoffed. “From the people I influenced with a suasion spell?” Darcy silently admitted the other man had a point.

“That is the best offer you will get,” Bingley growled from beside Darcy, flicking his sword with fierce, quick movements. Apparently he would not be quick to forgive his brother-in-law’s perfidy.

“The Council will surely vote to strip my powers and imprison me for the rest of my life.” An unpleasant wheedling tone had crept into Hurst’s voice.

“Perhaps you should have considered the consequences before choosing to tamper with people’s minds,” Bingley said coldly.

“I deserved the archmage position!” Hurst shouted. “It should have been mine.”

“I believe you have demonstrated the opposite,” Darcy said.

Hurst’s eyes darted from Bingley to Darcy, no doubt calculating an escape route. Darcy sank into a fighting stance and pulled on strands of ether in preparation for combat. He had never killed a human—only goblins. But if it came to a battle, he wanted to be the one to kill Hurst; Bingley should not have to live with the memory of killing his sister’s husband.

But rather than launch into an attack, Hurst stared at the portal as if mesmerized. Only then did Darcy notice that a thin thread of ether connecting Hurst through the portal to the goblin realm. He cursed silently. Hurst was exhausted as the paladins, but his affinity for the goblin world apparently helped him replenish his power.

As the ether flowed into him from the portal, Hurst’s posture straightened, and he started to smile. Damnation! He had played for time so he could recover his energy. Bingley cursed softly under his breath as he had the same realization. “I should have killed him immediately,” Darcy murmured.

A cruel smile played about Hurst’s lips. “The goblin realm is an inexhaustible source of power. I have drawn enough goblin essence into my body that I no longer need to kill goblins to tap into it. I have no desire to kill either of you—particularly not you my dear brother,” Hurst sneered. “If you do not prevent me from escaping, I will allow you to live.”

For a moment Darcy was tempted—if for no other reason than that he needed to reach Elizabeth. But he could not be the person who loosed this powerful and twisted man on the world. With their energy severely depleted, Darcy doubted he and Bingley could stop Hurst, but they had to make the effort.

He exchanged a glance with Bingley and saw the same resolution in his friend’s eyes. “Paladins rarely die of old age,” he said with a shrug.

“I will give you one more opportunity to surrender,” Darcy said to Hurst.

The other man’s smile disappeared, and he snorted inelegantly. A rumble of thunder caused Darcy to glance up at the sky. The day had been bright and clear, but now there were heavy dark clouds hanging low over the Convocation complex. A thunderstorm in March? What was happening?

Hurst thrust out his arm, gesturing toward Convocation Hall. A lightning bolt appeared from nowhere to strike the hall’s roof. A loud crash suggested that part of the roof had caved in.

“Weather magic,” Bingley breathed. It was just as illegal as suasion and far more dangerous. Even rested and with all his energy reserves full, Darcy doubted he could fight weather magic. It would be useless to try in his current state.

Another lightning strike—much closer. A tree near the edge of the garden lit up briefly and then split down the middle, crashing to the ground in two pieces.

“He is toying with us,” Bingley said. Darcy silently agreed. Hurst would bring the lightning strikes closer and closer before killing them. But Darcy would not await his fate passively. His magic was too depleted, but he still had his sword. And, he remembered suddenly, a knife in his boot sheath. Pretending to adjust his boots, Darcy pulled out the knife and threw it straight at Hurst’s heart. Reacting in the blink of an eye, Hurst levitated himself to one side, landing directly in front of the portal, and the knife buried itself harmlessly in a tree trunk. Another impossible feat of magic. It was damned annoying how many of those Hurst had at his disposal.

“The Convocation has proved most inhospitable,” Hurst said with a smirk as he stalked toward the paladins. “I no longer wish to be archmage. Instead I will visit Paris; perhaps Napoleon might have need of my services.” Darcy stared, horrified. A man with Hurst’s apparently limitless power could tip the balance of the war.”

“Just one more thing before I depart.” Hurst raised his hand in a dramatic gesture, and another lightning bolt struck the cherry tree behind Darcy, setting it ablaze as a clap of thunder shook the ground. Elizabeth! Darcy’s mind screamed her name. But she was far enough from the blaze that she was safe for the moment.

Now Hurst had his eyes fixed on the two paladins—as the next target for a lightning bolt. Darcy tightened his grip on his sword and sensed Bingley do likewise beside him. They would attack Hurst; at least Darcy would die with a sword in his hand.

Movement behind Hurst caught Darcy’s attention. The phooka goblin was slowly emerging from the portal, its yellow eyes ablaze with anger. So this is what failure tastes like, Darcy thought. He and Bingley did not have the energy to outmatch Hurst; the goblin would only ensure their deaths would be more gruesome.

Bingley moved closer to Darcy, and they raised their swords in unison. Their position was impossible, but they would go down fighting. Darcy spared a moment to regret how little time he had been able to share with Elizabeth.

But the phooka did not even glance in their direction. All three of its heads were focused on Hurst, who remained oblivious with his back to the portal. He was laughing as he pulled more power from the goblin world, mustering the energy to strike them down.

With a powerful leap, the goblin launched itself into the air and grabbed Hurst’s arm in the mouth of its middle head. The mage screamed, a sound of abject terror. The phooka sank its teeth further into Hurst’s body, causing blood to ooze onto the grass. The right head consolidated its hold by biting into Hurst’s leg. The mage thrashed and pulled, fruitlessly trying to free himself from the beast’s maw.

“He is not controlling it,” Darcy muttered. Returning to the goblin realm had released the phooka from Hurst’s control, and it had come back for revenge.

Hurst screamed again and tried to free himself from the teeth impaling him, but the phooka only tightened its grip as it lumbered back toward the portal. Goblins of various shapes and sizes were visible through the portal, anger and pain etched on their faces. The phooka goblin was not the only one that had suffered at Hurst’s hands; they all desired revenge.

The mage was alternately threatening the goblin with dire vengeance and begging the paladins for help. But Darcy had no time to act even if he had wanted to. Moving faster than something that size should, the phooka jumped through the portal with a single, effortless bound. Instantly the portal closed behind them with a rumble like a clap of thunder.

The garden was suddenly very quiet. The black clouds that Hurst had gathered disappeared instantly, and the sun was shining once more.

Elizabeth! Was she still alive? Turning on his heel, Darcy rushed toward the crumpled figure lying at the base of the fire-blackened cherry tree.

***

Darcy paced the length of the corridor once again, then turned and paced in the other direction. Bingley had ceased suggesting he sit down; Darcy had ignored him the first time and growled at him the second. Healers had tended the wound on Darcy’s arm and the gash on Bingley’s leg—in addition to many smaller wounds. He could only see a faint red line where the goblin had slashed into his arm. The healers had wanted both paladins to rest, but he refused. They were both covered in blood, dirt, and goblin ichor, but he would not leave until he heard about Elizabeth.

Everything could wait until he learned how Elizabeth fared. He could not forget the horrifying image of her sprawled under the cherry tree, her arm at an impossible angle. Darcy’s heart had faltered at the sight, apprehensive that his delay in attending to her—murderous mages notwithstanding—had cost her life. He had just started to imagine a future with her. Could he survive losing that future?

He had discerned a weak pulse and had rushed toward the Convocation’s House of Healing. There was no better place in the world to treat a severe case of magical depletion. With every step he took, he had said a silent prayer for Elizabeth’s recovery. Healers, drawn by the lightning strikes, had met him halfway; some had taken over Elizabeth’s care and Darcy had sent others to the garden for his uncle.

Elizabeth had been so brave. Multiple mages had stopped by to visit in the previous hours, offering their congratulations and thanks on the two paladins’ victory over Hurst. Darcy had told each visitor that Elizabeth was the one who surely saved many lives that day. Without her quick actions, Hurst would have most likely escaped to wreak havoc elsewhere. Hopefully her sacrifice would put an end to the question of whether women could be mages.

When the other paladins had shaken off the sleep spell, Darcy had set one to watch for the possible return of the portal, but there had been no sign of it. He was quite confident they would not encounter Hurst again; no doubt the goblins had obtained the revenge they sought.

Caroline was being held for trial. Ironically, by revealing her extensive magical talents, she had put herself under the Convocation’s jurisdiction. It would be the first time they tried a woman. Darcy was overjoyed to be rid of her, but he could not help thinking that her life might have turned out differently if she had not been forced to hide her magic.

Darcy and Bingley had spoken at length about Caroline and Hurst. In retrospect there had been signs that the pair had been conspiring for some time. Bingley was of the opinion that Caroline had primarily involved herself because she hoped to use suasion to push Darcy into a quick wedding. Darcy was not so sure; he suspected she had enjoyed wielding secret power. But in any case, Caroline had known about Hurst’s misdeeds and never reported them. Louisa had been arrested as well. The extent of the sisters’ guilt would be addressed at trial.

Bingley had confessed to his own feelings of guilt over failing to recognize and stop nefarious activities under his own roof. Darcy shared some of that feeling; after all, his own fiancée had contributed to Hurst’s evil plans. If he had been more observant, perhaps none of this would have happened and Elizabeth would not be lying in bed, dangerously ill with a broken arm. He had advised Bingley to ignore the guilt since it served no purpose but struggled to take his own advice.

The door to the healing chamber opened, and Healer Prescott stepped into the corridor. “Has Miss Bennet’s family arrived?” he inquired.

“No. A messenger has been sent to Hertfordshire, but we do not expect them for hours,” Darcy answered. The Gardiners’ daughter was ill, so he had encouraged them to return home.

The healer grimaced at the news, and Darcy’s heart plunged. His voice shook as he asked, “How does Miss Elizabeth fare?”

Prescott pursed his lips. “Ordinarily I would wait for the family…”

“W-We are b-betrothed,” Darcy said hastily, stumbling over the words, the first time he had made such a declaration.

The healer blinked in amazement, and Darcy glared at the man, daring him to say something disparaging about Elizabeth’s low connections. If others could not perceive her beauty, bravery, and cleverness, it was their loss. “I heard that she banished the goblin,” the healer said instead. “You must be very proud.”

“Yes. But how does she fare?”

“I believe she is out of danger,” the healer said.

Relief made Darcy’s knees buckle; only Bingley’s hand under his elbow kept him upright.

“She is suffering the most severe case of magical depletion I have ever witnessed. Miss Bennet stripped herself bare of etheric energy,” the healer said. “I am frankly amazed that she survived. Healer Hurley and I both conducted an etheric transfer.”

Darcy’s eyebrows shot upward. Etheric transfer was a common means of healing magical depletion, but he had never heard of anyone needing energy from two healers. No wonder Healer Prescott’s shoulders drooped, and his eyes were dark hollows. He had given a large share of his energy to Elizabeth.

“Her arm?” Darcy asked. “She fell from the tree.”

“Healer Hurley set the bone and did his best to accelerate the healing.”

Darcy was momentarily too overcome to speak. Bingley asked, “The archmage?”

“His wounds have been closed, and he is being treated with blood replenishment spells.”

“Excellent.”

Prescott faced Darcy. “Miss Elizabeth must have complete bedrest for several days.”

Darcy nodded. He would wait on her hand and foot if it would keep her in bed. “When will she be awake to receive visitors?”

“She is awake now and in no pain.”

“Why did you not say so at once?” Darcy growled, already moving toward the door. Bingley could remain to greet the Bennets when they arrived.

“Once the transferred energy dissipates, she will need to sleep,” the healer called just as the door closed behind Darcy.

The room was sparsely furnished with a cot, washstand, and two chairs. A nurse sat in the corner of the room doing embroidery. Darcy chose to ignore her.

Elizabeth was propped up by several pillows with one arm bound in a sling. Her countenance was nearly as white as the sheets, but her eyes fluttered open as he entered the room. Only her fragility prevented Darcy from enfolding her in his arms and kissing her.

She gave him a wan smile. “Are you well?” she asked in a hoarse voice, staring at the rent in his sleeve where the goblin had torn into his arm.

She was worried about him? He chuckled. “Yes. The healers healed me.”

“And your uncle?”

How like Elizabeth to inquire about others first. “He is resting now as he recovers from blood loss. The healers were far less concerned about him than they were about you.”

“I feel rather well right now.”

“That is because the healers—two of them— transferred etheric energy to you.”

Her eyes went wide. “I needed an energy transfer?”

“Two. You stripped yourself almost to the bone when you banished the goblin.”

She gave him an unexpectedly impish smile. “Mr. Darcy, are you applauding or censuring me?”

Darcy’s mouth quirked. “A little of both, I suppose. What you did—banishing the goblin—was exceedingly brave.”

She peered down at her hands twisting in the sheets. “I did not feel particularly brave at the time, only desperate.”

He took one of her hands in his, not caring about the nurse’s reaction. “I believe most heroes feel that way.”

She chuckled faintly. “I am not a hero. Heroes wear armor and wield swords.”

“You are most definitely a hero. They will sing songs about you and tell stories.”

She shook her head with a cheeky smile. “I refuse—unless you and Mr. Bingley are also part of the story.”

“I do not believe heroes can usually dictate how the story is told.”

“What happened with Mr. Hurst and the portal?” Elizabeth rubbed her eyes. “I recall nothing after the goblin was banished.”

“Bingley and I continued fighting Hurst, but he was drawing on the goblin world’s ether to replenish his power. He used it to create weather magic.”

Elizabeth gasped.

“He planned to kill us with lightning. But then the phooka goblin emerged from the portal, grabbed Hurst, and dragged him into the goblin realm. Then the portal disappeared.”

“Oh my goodness! The goblins finally found a way to stop him.”

“I am certain they provided the punishment he deserved.”

Elizabeth sighed. “I would not wish that fate on anyone but must confess I am relieved.”

Darcy caressed the back of her hand with his thumb. “I realized that you were correct.”

“Of course I was!” She smiled. “About what?”

“If we had killed the phooka, it would not have returned to rid us of Hurst. It is likely none of us would have survived.”

They were silent for a moment, considering that possibility. “And Mr. Bingley has been healed as well?” Elizabeth asked finally.

“Yes.” Darcy closed his eyes briefly. “He has been quite distraught about his family’s actions. He even offered to resign from the Order of Paladins. But he fought the goblin and Hurst ferociously. Captain Fenwick refused to accept his resignation. They have no reason to call his loyalty into question.” Darcy leaned closer to Elizabeth and spoke in a confiding tone. “He also confessed to me his relief that he may follow his heart and propose without fearing his sisters’ disapproval.”

“That will make Jane very happy.”

His grip tightened involuntarily on her hand. He had to ask the question, though he feared the answer. “I do hope…that recent events have not…dissuaded you from marrying me.”

She laughed. “No. Not at all. Although I would hope our future continues at a more sedate pace.”

“That is devoutly to be wished.”

Her countenance had paled even further and her eyes were drooping, but she was fighting sleep. “William,” she said in a soft voice. “Before you formalize our engagement with my father, perhaps you should know…” She swallowed. “I intend to petition the Convocation to admit me as a mage.”

“Excellent!”

“You would not object to being married to such a woman?”

“I would be quite proud. You saved the archmage’s life and likely the lives of everyone in the Convocation Hall. I expect they will be quite happy to include you.”

Elizabeth sank further into her pillows. “Wonderful.” Her voice seemed to be coming from far away.

“You should sleep,” Darcy said gently.

“Will you be here when I wake?” she asked as her eyes closed.

“Always.”