Page 72 of Wind and Water
“The oracle can.” He doesn’t sound as if that makes my job any easier.
“So, a group of powerful elves who have dedicated their lives to the study of magic are the only elves capable of doing this thing you want me to try. Am I missing anything?” Even though he’s been through a lot today, I can’t keep the sarcasm out of my voice.
Instead of being annoyed, he grins adorably at me. “Your magic is different. You could create the portal and pray for it to bring us to the training field outside of Tús Nua. It’s a vast field with a stunning view of the city’s white walls rising before the Great Mountains. The gates shine golden in the morning sun, and thousands of elven soldiers spar throughout the day, readying themselves for battle and defending our people.” He sends the image into my mind.
I keep the picture there and think about the pain of a portal and the way it swirls with wind. Closing my eyes, I say, “I see thecity and the soldiers. The mountains rise in the distance, their peaks white. It’s beautiful.”
“Pray for the portal that can take us there, love.” His voice is barely a whisper.
As I ask god to help me make a portal to save us. I feel the wind whip around me. I open my eyes, and dust swirls a foot in front of us. A pinpoint of black appears—my heart races.
“You’re doing it.” Excitement bubbles in his voice.
The wind dies down, and the dot of black hope fades and dies. A heavy weight presses against my chest. “It’s impossible.”
Liam lets out a long breath. “It would have been amazing if you’d have succeeded on your first try, Wren. You did great. I doubt the oracle members get everything right immediately.”
We sit with our backs against the wall. “I’m sorry.”
He kisses the crown of my head. “You are amazing. It’s been a long day. We’ll try again when you’ve rested.”
For days or weeks, we try every time we wake up. Each time I fail. Some days, I can’t even get the wind to whirl. There is no way to tell how much time has passed. We’re fed, though not as well as before we sent Venora back into her pool of sludgy red goop. Still, it’s enough to survive.
The door opens, and a blast of magic throws Liam across the hard floor. He smacks against the wall with a grunt, then struggles to stand while the magic keeps him pinned.
I try to go to him, but Ciaran grabs me while two demons wrap a slimy black rope around my wrists. “My queen has need of you, human scum.” Holding a dagger aloft and ready to throwit at Liam, where he still tries to rise, he says, “If you come quietly, I won’t kill the second son.”
Rage fills Liam’s eyes.
Ciaran pushes his white-blond hair over his shoulder and draws back the dagger.
“I won’t fight.”
Victory flashes in Ciaran’s evil eyes. He returns his blade to the sheath at his hip, grabs my arm, and pulls me out of the cell, leaving Liam behind.
As the door closes, I hear Liam screaming my name.
My heart clenches, and I open my mind to his.Stay calm. She needs me, or she thinks she does.
Love that is so pure it makes my heart ache filters through our connection.Stay alive. Everything else we can fix.
The demons follow behind, making noises that might be chuckling, but sound more like nails on a blackboard.
Ciaran drags me along by my bound hands at a pace that even if I were willing, I’d struggle to keep up. I fall and scrape my knee, but he barely breaks stride as he hauls me up and continues toward Venora’s chamber.
Unable to breathe, I slip and stumble across the narrow stones and wonder if he intends to toss me into the molten fires of this place. However, soon we’re standing before the tall black double doors.
He grips the rope and lifts until my feet dangle and the material bites into the skin at my wrists. “You should feel honored that the queen is benevolent. She should have let me kill you for making her spend another cycle inside the source. You should be flayed alive, but perhaps that’s what’s next for your insignificant lover once you’ve told us everything you know.”
“Put me down before I curse you to spending all your life down here.” Momma would say my mouth just wrote a check my body can’t cash, but I meant every word.
His eyes widen, and the hint of fear in them is very satisfying before he returns to a hateful glare. As if he cannot find the words to put me in my place, he grunts and pushes the doors open.
Venora is seated on her throne. She’s wearing a silver dress that covers her from neck to toes. It’s fitted to her body and has a wide fanned piece across her shoulders as if to frame her head like something out of Earth’s fourteenth century. “We started badly. Let’s try again. Come and tell me your name, daughter of Birdie.”
She points to a space on the dais where she wants me to either stand or kneel.
It guts me that she knows Momma’s name. When I hesitate, Ciaran pushes me, and I stumble.
