Eternal Magic Page 7

Blood flowed into the bowl, and the oneiroi stared on hungrily. When the bowl was filled, Xarthra passed it to the first oneiroi. The oneiroi took the bowl to her lips and drank.

  Each oneiroi took a sip of their queen’s blood. As they swallowed, they visibly relaxed, the tension in their limbs softening, eyes lightening to a pale silver.

  When they’d finished, they handed the bowl to Bael, and he brought it to his lips.

  “What are you doing?” Ursula blurted.

  Bael lowered the bowl. “This is how I was able to manage my own bloodlust.”

  Chapter 12

  At the simple wooden table in Cera’s home, Ursula sat across from Cera and Kester. To her right, Bael leaned back in his chair with his eyes closed, the candlelight wavering over his perfect features. Kester still hadn’t managed to fill his stomach, and he sipped soup from a large mug. The domestic scene should have been relaxing, but tension gripped Ursula’s muscles. She couldn’t stop thinking about what Abrax had said about her mother’s death.

  Kester finished his soup, leaning back in his chair. “Bael and I just followed the glowing path until we got to the Grotto. Honestly, I could have done it myself.”

  Bael slowly opened his eyes, narrowing them at Kester. “It is easy to get lost in Cavern of Night. You really have no idea.”

  Kester arched an eyebrow. “I’m a hound. I don’t get lost.”

  Bael snorted.

  Ursula pinched the bridge of her nose. “Okay, enough with the competitiveness. Anyone know what happened to Zee?”

  “No,” said Cera. “I was able to flee the Drake’s warren in the chaos of Abrax’s attack. Zee didn’t make it out with me. She’s either with the dragons still, or she’s found a way out.”

  Kester’s lips curled wistfully. “She’s extremely resourceful. My money is on an escape.”

  Ursula blew a strand of red hair out of her eyes. “Should we try to find her now?”

  “No.” Bael’s eyes darkened. “We must help the oneiroi. We have to wait here until we are ready to attack Hothgar.”

  “And when will that be?” asked Kester.

  “A year at least,” said Bael.

  “A year?” Kester rose abruptly, nearly knocking the table over.

  Bael nodded. “We need to recruit more oneiroi to the cause. At this point, our army isn’t big enough to defeat Abrax and the rest of the demon lords.”

  “So we’re just going to wait down here in this pit?” If Kester had had any of Emerazel’s fire, his eyes would have been blazing.

  “It’s the safest place,” said Bael. “Abrax has no idea how to find us here.”

  Ursula shook her head. “I’m with Kester. I know you made a promise, but we can’t hide here for an entire year.”

  Bael’s jaw clenched. “What do you propose that we do?”

  “I’m going to Mount Acidale.” Ursula hadn’t even realized the full extent of her plan until the words were out of her mouth.

  Bael’s eyes widened. “That’s absurd. It’s far too dangerous.”

  “I agree,” said Kester. “You can’t go there.”

  Ursula straightened. “I’m not asking your permission. I want to find my family. I need to find out who I really am.” She looked sharply between the two men. “Abrax told me about the Battle of Mount Acidale…”

  She let the sentence trail off into what was now a deathly quiet room. Bael studied her intently, his slate-gray eyes unreadable. Kester’s face had paled. They did know something.

  “What did Abrax tell you?” asked Bael.

  “He claims that you’ve been lying to me. That you knew who I was the moment you met me.”

  A line formed between Bael’s straight eyebrows. “That’s not true.”

  Kester cut in. There was steel in his voice, but also sadness. “Her mother was a member of King Midac’s senior guard. The one who killed the queen and tried to murder the king.”

  Bael’s eyes whirled with shadows. “You knew this all along and you kept it from Ursula?”

  Kester gripped his water glass. “Emerazel forbade me from telling her. I had no choice.”

  “You killed Ursula’s mother.” Bael’s voice was pure ice.

  Ursula’s stomach lurched, and she wanted to be sick. Abrax was telling the truth.

  A clang of metal interrupted them, and Ursula jumped—Cera dropping a spoon to the floor.

  “It was the middle of a battle. Death was all around us. I saved the king’s life from an assassin who had been brainwashed by shadow demons.” Kester glared at Bael. It was as if Ursula wasn’t even in the room. “I did my job. Besides, it’s not as though your hands are clean. I heard you were the one who recruited her.”

  “What’s going on?” Ursula demanded.

  Bael’s eyes were black as the void, his entire body stiff with rage. “If you weren’t Ursula’s friend, I would tear your arms from their sockets and feed your corpse to Molok. I don’t know who recruited Ursula’s mother. It wasn’t me.”

  Kester shook his head as he drew an obsidian blade. Bael’s eyes twitched in recognition. “You didn’t think I was armed, did you, demon? Maybe you shouldn’t leave blades lying around. Come over to that table and I’ll carve out your heart”—he lowered his voice to mimic Bael’s—“and feed it to Molok.”

  Ursula’s own sense of rage was building, roiling in her gut, ready to erupt.

  Bael growled, his voice rising into a roar. “Hound of Emerazel—”

  Ursula leapt up, knocking the table over and stepping between the two men. “Enough already!” Her voice boomed off Cera’s low ceiling. “We’ve had enough bloodshed. I forgive Kester for killing my mother. I don’t even remember her.”

  And that was messed up, wasn’t it? Ursula craved oblivion, wanted to flee from something disturbing in her past—that instinct existed in the depths of her mind. But it wasn’t right. She needed to remember her mum. She needed to care, or she could never really know who she was.

  Flustered, she folded her arms, unsure how to be angry about the death of someone she couldn’t remember at all. “Just fill me in on things in the future, will you? Both of you. Don’t leave me in the dark. And I need to find out who I am. I might have other family still in Mount Acidale, and I want to go to see if they are still alive. And we need to look for Zee.”

  The truth was, she didn’t feel much for her mother. Hard to feel anything when you couldn’t remember, when your mum was just an abstract concept.

  Bael’s eyes were the color of the void, his knuckles white as snow, but he sat down in his chair. Across from him, Kester slowly lowered the blade.

  “All right,” Bael said after a few moments, his voice cracking with rage. “I’ll speak to Xarthra, and I’ll take you to Mount Acidale. We’ll look for Zee and your family.”

  Ursula awoke in the morning. At least, she thought it was morning. Not like there was daylight in the Grotto, only the perpetual glow of the bioluminescent mushrooms that grew along the cavern walls. Still, the smell of sizzling bacon wafting through Cera’s house suggested that it was probably morning.

  She clambered out of the bed she’d been sharing with Cera, and crossed barefoot into the main room. Cera stood over the stove, steam curling from a cast-iron pan. Cera pushed the bacon around.

  “Good morning,” Ursula mumbled.

  “There’s no coffee,” said Cera in a voice that was far too chipper for Ursula’s current mental state. “But there’s some black mushroom tea in the kettle.”

  Ursula smiled faintly, nausea fluttering in her gut. Sounds…delicious.

  On the other side of the room, two bodies stirred. Kester and Bael lay stretched out on the floor. Despite their loathing for one another, they’d been chivalrous with the sleeping arrangements. They’d both insisted that the ladies got the bed while they took the floor. In theory, this was also so they could guard the door, but given that the smell of bacon hadn’t roused them, Ursula had to question their usefulness as guards.

  Ursula sat do
wn at the kitchen table. “How did you sleep, Cera?”

  “Well enough, but I got peckish, so I thought I’d fix some breakfast.”

  “The bacon smells amazing.”

  Cera grinned, then bustled over to the table with a steaming plate of rashers. “There might not be any eggs in the Grotto, but there’s always bacon.”

  Kester sat up on the floor, stretching his arms over his head. “How’s that?” He looked tired, but the bags under his eyes seemed less heavy. “I haven’t seen any pigs.”

  “Oh.” Cera beamed. “This bacon is chiropteran. The bats are good for other things than riding, you know.”

  Ursula’s stomach curdled, but she plastered a smile on her face. “How wonderful.” Maybe mushroom tea wasn’t such a bad idea after all. She grabbed the ceramic pot in the center of the table, then poured a few steaming cups for the table.

  She sniffed it cautiously before taking a sip. It wasn’t Earl Grey, but it didn’t have the dank, fungal flavor she was expecting. “This is pretty good.”

  Cera nodded vigorously. “It has lots of caffeine.”

  Kester pulled out a chair next to her, already reaching for the bat bacon. “This looks amazing.”

  Cera flipped three more sizzling strips of meat onto a plate. Without hesitating, Kester dug in.

  Wood squeaked over stone as Bael pulled out a chair and sat down. Immediately, Cera was by his side filling his cup with tea and slapping down slices of bat bacon.

  Bael plucked a piece for himself. “Thank you, Cera.”

  Ursula leaned back in her chair. “So what’s the plan?”

  Bael bit into the crispy meat. “We leave for Acidale in an hour. Just us. Kester isn’t coming.”

  Ursula sucked in a sharp breath. She hadn’t been expecting things to happen quite that fast. “You know the way?”

  “No,” said Bael, shaking his head. “But he does.” Bael gave a Kester a sharp look.

  Kester stared at Bael over his steaming tea. “There’s a sigil in Mount Acidale. I can tell you the name.”

  Ursula nodded. “And we just travel there by Emerazel’s fire?”

  “Exactly.”

  Anticipation rippled over Ursula’s skin. Three years ago, she’d simply turned up in a burnt-out church in London, with nothing but her name and a little note in her pocket. She’d never known who she was, why she seemed to have magical powers. She’d never known why her memory had disappeared in the first place. Would she finally get some answers?

  Kester put down his tea. “There are some things you should know. First, Mount Acidale is ruled by King Midac.”

  Ursula inhaled sharply. “I know. Apparently my mum tried to kill him.”

  “He’s an arrogant despot,” said Kester. “In Mount Acidale, hellhounds are to be killed on sight.”

  “And the dragons will recognize you if they find you,” Bael added. “They saw you use Emerazel’s fire in the warren. Lucius knows what you are.”

  Ursula frowned as she processed all the new information. “I thought King Midac had Emerazel’s power?”

  “He does,” said Kester. “But after the battle, he decreed that he was the only one allowed to channel her flames. Anyone else caught with Emerazel’s fire is put to death.”

  Wonderful. “Let me guess. This is why no one is allowed to enter the kingdom?”

  “Exactly,” said Kester. “It’s how he maintains his grip on power.”

  “So is there a way to move around the city?” asked Ursula.

  “Don’t use your fire, and we stay out of sight,” said Bael. “I have a contact who will help us.”

  “Do you think he could help me find my family?”

  Bael nodded. “And he might help us recover Excalibur from the dragons. With the blade, we can defeat Hothgar. Just like I promised Xarthra.” Bael’s gaze slid to Cera. “Can you assist Ursula’s preparations?”

  “Of course, my lord—”

  Bael lifted his hand. “Here in the Grotto, you may call me Bael.” He rose, slouching so his head didn’t hit the ceiling. “I must collect some things for our trip. I will return shortly.” He stepped outside and closed the door behind him.

  Cera began dragging a basket of clothes out of the corner. “Ursula. You will need something to wear in Mount Acidale.”

  Kester threaded his fingers behind his head. “Find your most outdated clothing, then. Stiff olive silk. Awkward bustles. Mount Acidale is not like New York. They’ve been isolated for hundreds of years. Their sense of style is, to put it nicely, dated.”

  Cera’s body tensed. “I can’t dress Ursula in something ugly.”

  Kester shrugged. “She needs to blend in. If you clothe her in Francesco Sforza, she’ll stand out like a sore thumb. Do you want her to be caught and tortured?”

  “Fine,” said Cera.

  “Then I suggest you search for something like a moth-eaten wool cloak.”

  Glumly, Cera crossed into another room. She returned a few minutes later clutching three pairs of thick woolen stockings, a pair of black lace-up Victorian boots, a stiff crinoline dress—the color of plums—and a gray, woolen cloak.

  “My, my,” said Kester. “You are good.”

  Just then, the door opened with a bang. Bael stood in the entrance, and Ursula sucked in a breath. He wore dark wool trousers, a gray waistcoat, and a heavy wool frock coat. A thin sword hung from a black leather belt. In his hand, he held a black top hat. He looked like some sort of down-on-his-luck, time-traveling Victorian gentleman.

  “Don’t you look dashing!” said Cera. “Where did you get that from?”

  “Consignment shop,” he said simply.

  Cera shooed him outside. “Give the lady a few minutes to dress.”

  While Bael and Kester waited outside, Ursula pulled on the woolen stockings and the crinoline dress. Despite the drab appearance of the clothes, Ursula had to admit they were comfortable and warm. Cera helped her tighten the corset until she could hardly breathe, and Ursula leaned down to lace the boots up to her knees.

  As she threaded the laces through their holes, she felt like she was doing something oddly familiar, her fingers working expertly on the old-fashioned boots. Of course, she’d probably once worn something exactly like these boots around Mount Acidale, and she’d probably worn a corset just like the one that squeezed her ribs right now.

  When she’d fully dressed, Kester and Bael pushed through the door again. By the doorway, Kester plucked a golden flask from his pocket, then began the familiar task of pouring liquid over the floor in the shape of Emerazel’s sigil.

  Bael stared at the floor, and Ursula could tell from the tension in his shoulders that the fire still made him nervous. “Are we ready?”

  “Almost.” Kester thrust the flask at Ursula. “You might need this to return.”

  As Kester knelt to light the sigil, Cera ran to Ursula and threw her arms around her. “Be careful.”

  “I will,” said Ursula. “And you keep an eye on Kester.”

  Cera pulled away from the hug. “I will. And I’ll fatten him up too.”

  Kester cracked a smile, before looking at Ursula more solemnly. “Cera’s right. Be careful. Mount Acidale is dangerous enough as it is, and Midac and Lucius would like nothing more than to kill you. Now go. The sigil will take you to the Church of Laverna.”

  The flamed burned brightly, and Ursula stepped into the flames. Warm firelight danced over Bael’s skin. He wouldn’t be immune to the flames like she was, but her magic could protect him—as long as he stayed close.

  Ursula launched into the traveling spell, grabbing Bael’s body to pull him close as the flames erupted around them. And with Bael in her arms, she felt her body crumble into ash.

  Chapter 13

  Ursula barked a cough as they reconstituted in a small room, their ashy bodies solidifying over a rickety wooden floor. Coughing, Bael brushed a few bits of ash from his jacket.

  Ursula surveyed the space. Dim, silvery light streamed through long, slatte
d windows in stone walls, highlighting ash and dust motes floating in the air. An enormous brass bell hung above them.

  “It looks like Kester put us right into the bell tower of Laverna,” said Bael.

  Ursula crossed to the closest window, peering between the slats. She squinted as an icy breeze blew against her cheekbones. Okay. Maybe it hadn’t been morning in the Shadow Realm, because the moon hung in the sky here in Mount Acidale, and no one moved on the dark streets below.

  Far below them sprawled a tangle of timber-frame houses—built close together, with sharply peaked roofs. Smoke curled from their chimneys. Ursula sniffed, taking in a sulfurous scent that tickled something dormant in the back of her skull.

  Bael stood by the window. “Mount Acidale is not known for its beauty.” He touched her elbow. “But let me show you the castle.”

  He led her to the opposite side of the tower room. Peering through the slatted windows, Ursula could see more of the Mount Acidale slums, but also the looming mass of a larger structure—a ruin, really. A crooked jumble of stone that might have once looked like something stately.

  What may have been beautiful towers were now roofless stumps, dark soot scarring the walls. Ursula couldn’t help thinking it looked like the partially decomposed carcass of a monstrous creature.

  A scream pierced the air, and Ursula’s body stiffened. Hard to mistake the shriek of a dragon.

  Ursula pointed to the ruined castle. “Did the dragons do that?”

  “No,” said Bael. “That was Kester’s and Emerazel’s doing. In the Battle of Mount Acidale, Emerazel’s followers torched Calidore Castle, almost razed it to the ground.”

  “Does the king still live there?”

  “As far as I know,” said Bael. “Not all of the castle burned. Many of its rooms are still habitable.”

  As Ursula studied the ruin, Bael moved around the room behind her. She jumped at the sound of creaking hinges, turning to see him lifting the top of an ancient trapdoor.

  “I think this is the way down,” he said simply.

  Ursula followed him down a short wooden ladder, then down a dark staircase that wrapped around the interior of the tower. Their footsteps creaked as they walked, and Ursula shivered at the eerie atmosphere. The air smelled of mold and damp leaves.