The Scarlet Dragon (The Witching World Book 5) Page 2

  “The courtyard was empty save the dragon, and I was immensely relieved to discover him sleeping. At least then I could have some time to think when I wasn’t in immediate danger. I picked myself up from the ground and managed to hide myself between a gap in the stones. I waited until my senses returned to me fully, but even then I couldn’t find a way to help you if I entered the castle, where I assumed you must all be. As you know, Lady Clara, I can’t perform magic of my own. It was like this that most of the day passed, until Count Bundry and Lord Mordecai finally emerged from the castle with Count Bundry’s nephew, and also with the terrible sight of Count Bundry’s split and Sylvia in grave peril trailing behind them.”

  Sir Lancelot seemed poised to continue speaking, but changed his mind. The day was so burdened that words could do little to ameliorate any of what had come to pass.

  “I’m sorry that we weren’t able to help you after your fall.” I too wanted to say more, to apologize more deeply for having forgotten about him. But it would serve no good purpose. Relieving my guilt might only make him feel worse.

  “Oh, don’t worry about it, Lady Clara.” Sir Lancelot generously shrugged it away with an expressive flap of a wing. “I suspect that little of this day went as we would have wanted it. As we were saying, there are times when we must accept things as they came to pass, and move onward.”

  “You’re incredible, Sir Lancelot. Truly. You’re as great of an owl and a being as I could ever hope to meet.” I meant it, and I got to watch the amusing sight of an owl attempting not to blush.

  “Thank you, Lady Clara,” and then the owl lapsed into moments of silence to digest what had never been said to him before.

  The road was wide enough for a cart to pass there, and I rode up next to Marcelo. “How are you?” I asked gently, while still holding Gertrude. Marcelo gave me a long look that said, What do you think? And he said no more. I supposed it was a foolish question. How were any of us? Battered and bruised in body and in spirit.

  We rode on in silence for a few minutes before I asked, “Do you think we’ll find Mordecai and Grand-mère soon?”

  Marcelo looked off into the distance and paused, taking it all in. I realized then how much more he must see in the landscape ahead than I did. He looked for threats and strategic advantages where I only looked for beauty to soothe my soul. “I hope so. I thought we would have encountered them already. Mordecai wanted to stop as soon as he could. The health condition of his patients required his care as soon as was possible.”

  I noted how Marcelo spoke of “patients,” removing himself in what little way he could from the half of him that was dying. I wanted to ask then what would happen if his split did die. What would happen to the Marcelo that rode next to me? Could he survive with half of his body and half of his soul? But one look at my fiancé confirmed that this wasn’t the time for that.

  Marcelo must have identified my growing need to understand what had happened today. There was still much that was unresolved and that we couldn’t know how would unfold. Yet there were those things he could explain to me that would alleviate my mounting anxiety, which grew the longer it took us to come upon the dragon’s hiding spot.

  With minimal prompting, Marcelo went on to explain why he’d pushed me outside of the front door of the castle and how it was that I found myself alone in the courtyard, with no way to get back in the door that closed at my back. He told me why I hadn’t seen Sylvia and his injured split atop the roof when I burst out onto it. And he explained how Mordecai had bound Count Washur’s magic.

  “You look shocked,” Marcelo said, a glint of amusement in his eyes for the first time in what seemed like forever, but had probably only been a couple of days.

  “Well, yes. I suppose I am. I’d assumed—for some reason—that you couldn’t bind the magic of someone as powerful as Count Washur.”

  “I don’t think that Washur is any more powerful than Mirvela, and Mordecai bound her magic.”

  “That’s true,” I said. In the rapid-paced danger of the Castle of Washur, I had completely forgotten about the leader of the merpeople that we’d lost to the sea beneath Bundry’s cliffs. I’d also forgotten about Carlton, the butler of the castle in Bundry and the reason Marcelo had split himself in half to begin with. “And what of Carlton? Did you find him?”

  Marcelo shook his head. “I didn’t. I didn’t find anyone that knew anything about his disappearance either.”

  “But you came anyway, even if it meant abandoning him.”

  “I had to. There was nothing more I could do to help Carlton that wouldn’t significantly delay my travel to Washur. And I had the feeling that I shouldn’t delay any more in coming here.”

  “You were right. If you hadn’t arrived when you did, all of us, save Sir Lancelot, would be dead now.”

  “Yes.” What else was there to say? Without Marcelo’s intervention, we would all be at the bottom of a dark abyss, if there were any bottom to it. Or we might still be in a free fall that took us farther from the light and any hope of salvation with each depth we plummeted past. Whatever the end of that fall the Count thrust upon us, I knew death, darkness, and despair awaited us there.

  “I saw no end to the fall you saved us from.”

  Marcelo shook his head again. “I doubt there was any. So many of the things that befell us today I’d never seen before. There’s nobody I know of that practices the dark arts with as much impunity as Washur. But I’d read of this type of magic. It’s a fall that, once initiated, has no beginning anymore, and it has no end. It places its victim in a state of suspension where the person experiences falling forevermore, without the possibility of ever reaching a bottom or a top.

  “The amount of time varies before a person succumbs to the spell’s final goal, depending on the strength and integrity of the victim. But eventually, all surrender to despair. And then the darkness can fully infect the soul. After that, the fight is over. The darkness wins.”

  “Yet you saved us from that.” My voice reflected awe, both at the true scope of the danger that had befallen us, and the fact that Marcelo had found a way to save us from it. “How did you do it? I thought The Elementes of Darke Magyke book was hidden from you, and along with it the counter spells to its dark magic?”

  “It’s true, my darling, that the Magical Council forbade the magic in The Elementes of Darke Magyke and that, even though Mordecai and Albacus possessed a copy, I wasn’t privy to the information contained within its pages. However, I’m resourceful, and although I didn’t look at the forbidden book until we discovered it in Irele Castle to save Mordecai from Mirvela, I did encounter the particular counter spell I needed to intervene in your fall before today.”

  “But how?”

  “Mordecai was more careful and guarded than Albacus, who wasn’t as concerned about concealing dark magic from me. Albacus was always working on new spells, and it didn’t matter much to him which book he was studying at the time. If he thought of something, he’d write it in the margins of the book he was reading. This particular habit used to drive Mordecai mad. He’d tell Albacus that books, no matter which ones, were sacred and to be respected, that he should use loose paper instead of their library’s bound books. But Albacus either didn’t care or didn’t pay attention.” Marcelo smiled. “And I benefited from what Mordecai saw as Albacus’ carelessness. I encountered all sorts of spells and notes that I wouldn’t have learned otherwise.”

  “So Albacus wrote of a spell to counter this free fall into darkness?”

  “Yes, and it was a very lucky fact that he did.”

  “Yes. Very lucky indeed.” I didn’t think I’d ever get used to danger in my life at what seemed like every turn. It was true that life at Norland Manor had bored me and had done nothing to explore my hidden potential. But this life of magic, fraught with so many dangers and so many situations that made me uncomfortable, made me squirm in my saddle. Gertrude purred in question, and I answered with another scratch behind her ears.

&n
bsp; “What were those dark blobs exactly?” I asked.

  “They are darkness in physical form. There is no particular intelligence to them. A dark magician brings them to life with only one purpose in mind.”

  “And that is?”

  “To infect a person, or many people as the case was today, with darkness.”

  I sighed heavily. “Poor Sylvia. I went to help her last, and by then the dark blobs had completely sunken into the flesh beneath her scales. Perhaps I should have gone to her before the others. I went as fast as I could, but if I’d gone to her sooner, I could have stopped the blobs before they disappeared all the way into her.”

  “But then the others you spared from the blobs would have suffered.”

  “Yes, but was I right to put Winston before her?”

  Marcelo didn’t answer.

  “I did so only because I thought Sylvia was stronger than Winston and better able to withstand the attack of the blobs.”

  “And you were right to think that.”

  “But was it wrong to save Winston before her? I honestly wouldn’t be saddened if Winston had died.”

  “Nor would I. Yet what you did was right. It’s our duty to save all we can save.”

  But I wasn’t sure if I’d done right. Sylvia, who’d done nothing but try to help us was the one now fighting for her life.

  “And where’s Winston now?” I asked Marcelo.

  A crease came to life between his brows. “I don’t know. He left the roof by way of the stairs while Mordecai and I faced Count Washur and Sa—my nephew, I mean.” Under the effect of Count Washur’s spell, Salazar wasn’t able to warn us of the dangers of speaking his name. But he’d stopped his uncle halfway enough times that he understood and caught himself before doing any further damage. “We didn’t see Winston when we left the roof. Granted, we didn’t look for him either. We were in too great a hurry to get Sylvia and my split to a safe place so Mordecai could treat them. And we were also anxious to get to you and Gertrude, knowing none of us was yet truly safe. Winston could still be in the castle. Or perhaps he left it.”

  “I didn’t see him exit.” But I also had to admit that I wasn’t paying attention. I was dealing with such intense shock that he might have walked across the hill in front of me and I wouldn’t have noticed.

  “We can worry about him at another time. And if we’re lucky, we won’t have to worry about him at all,” Marcelo said.

  We rode in silence for some time, Marcelo scanning the land in front of us. I listened only to the soothing of horse footfalls and looked for nothing at all, at least nothing greater than the soothing of my frayed spirit.

  By the time we spotted the tip of a dragon’s tail sneaking out of a deep cave like magic’s calling card, I enjoyed a fragile sense of calm, Sir Lancelot’s twitching had become infrequent, and Gertrude slept in my arms. Her ginger chest rose and fell reassuringly, reminding me that the risks we took today had been worth it.

  When Marcelo urged us to speed up our horses, I did, anxious to prove to myself that the consequences of these risks were those with which I could live. I longed to see Sylvia and Marcelo’s split alive and well.

  Chapter 3

  I didn’t have to ask how Mordecai’s patients were. Even before I entered the cave, I knew.

  There was something particular about impending death. Somehow, you feel it coming. Maybe it’s the deep silence that infects the patient and those that surround him. Or maybe it’s the Grim Reaper, hiding in the shadows, cloaked in one of those silences you can almost reach out and touch, as dark as its nature. Whatever it was, I felt it, and I could tell that everyone else in that cave could too.

  I was barely able to make out faces. A magical flame equivalent to the light of two candles flickered with more life than the bodies it attempted to illuminate. The lighting was just enough to see the most important thing. It made the breath catch in my throat.

  Sir Lancelot, who had controlled his fearful shaking admirably when we walked past the dragon, lost his composure. The trembling of his petite body ran through my thick riding cloak and into the flesh of my shoulder. I reached up a hand to comfort him without looking. I discovered myself unable to tear my eyes from the split’s face, now gaunt and pale. Could life run through a face that looked so much like death?

  “I’m all right, Lady Clara,” Sir Lancelot said in a soft quiver. But he didn’t complain when I kept my hand on his back. Eventually, while I waited to formulate thoughts or words that didn’t frighten me, his shaking abated, and finally stopped all together. Like me, I think the pygmy owl gave over to numbness.

  All that happened while we were in that cave seemed to happen without my interference. It was as if I’d become a mere observer of a tragedy. Even when I spoke or acted, it was as if someone else were doing that for me while I watched myself move with a poise and elegance I didn’t possess. Inside, I trembled more violently than Sir Lancelot ever had.

  Like me, Sir Lancelot couldn’t take his eyes from the sight of our friends sprawled across the ground of the cave. Though the ground was covered in small, dislodging rocks, they wouldn’t cause Mordecai’s patients discomfort. Man and firedrake were clearly beyond any small discomfort. They had almost arrived at the place where earthly discomfort could no longer touch them. They might have arrived already. I searched for the rise and fall of their chests, but couldn’t spot any movement in the dim lighting.

  I looked to Marcelo, to the one that still held life. He didn’t meet my glance. Just like I had, he stared at the other half of himself.

  Salazar stood to his side. For the first time since we left Washur, Salazar’s face showed expression, although I wasn’t certain which emotion it revealed. Perhaps Salazar himself didn’t know how he felt then, staring at a split of a man who was his uncle, but who might or might not be the villain Count Washur taught him that Marcelo was.

  Mordecai didn’t meet my searching gaze either. He stared intently at his patients, torn between terrible choices and resignation.

  Finally, I searched out Grand-mère. She crouched down next to the bodies, alongside Mordecai, her firedrake hovering next to her and above Sylvia. Although Mathieu had never met Sylvia before, it appeared that the link between their kind was strong regardless. The male firedrake looked down at Sylvia forlornly. The normally long face of a firedrake stretched out even longer.

  Grand-mère looked up at me. In her eyes I saw my worst fears confirmed. I saw that my fervent prayers as we rode over here hadn’t been answered. I believed I saw death reflected in those amber eyes I thought I’d never see again.

  The words I knew I’d have to get out eventually froze on my lips. Not even breath seemed to cycle within the suddenly claustrophobic space. The cave grew smaller and darker. It pressed out the light as surely as it seemed to press out the life from the two bodies on the ground.

  Gertrude shifted against me in her sleep and roused me from my stupor. “I—Is he dead?” I asked those eyes so much like Gertrude’s and my own. Ordinarily, courtesy would have persuaded me to inquire about Sylvia’s health as well as Marcelo’s. But in that moment, all I could think of was the pallor of those lips I kissed. I felt as if I could still taste what those lips tasted like and as if I could still feel their full softness. Would those be memories relegated to those the living held of the dead?

  Staring at Marcelo’s split on the ground, I completely forgot that another Marcelo stood to my right. It seemed impossible to think that the man on the dirt before me could live on when the Grim Reaper was ready to claim his body. The idea of splitting a person was still novel to me. I kept finding myself surprised to remember that there were two Marcelos now instead of one.

  “Non, ma chérie. The split isn’t dead.” A rush of relief whooshed out of me before I realized there was more. “Not yet at least. There’s very little time.”

  I half choked on the relief I tried to suck back in and the desperation that fought to rise at the same time. In the end what came out was a
very unladylike snort. I didn’t care. I was once again frozen, staring at a sight I hoped never to see. The sobs were stuck in my chest cavity. Like the rest of us, they seemed to wait for the inevitable.

  Marcelo approached his other half as if there were no hurry, as if there was nothing left to be done, and one of the sobs within me dislodged. But Marcelo didn’t look up at the sound. Nor did Mordecai. And Grand-mère broke the gaze she shared with me.

  “Is that it then? Is there nothing we can do?” Marcelo said.

  “There’s always something we can do, my son. The question is whether it is the wise thing to do,” Mordecai said.

  “Hmmm,” Marcelo said. “And how is Sylvia? Will she make it?”

  “I believe there’s a very good chance that she will. She’s weak and it might be some time still until she’s ready to waken, but I think she’s strong enough to pull out of it. There will be damage, no doubt, and it’s likely that it’ll be permanent. She has taken on a lot of darkness and she’s but one firedrake.”

  Marcelo nodded while Grand-mère reached out a hand to smooth across Sylvia’s head. Sylvia didn’t move. Marcelo returned his scrutiny to his devastated split. Without looking at his mentor, he said, “What will happen if I do it?”

  “I don’t know, son. I don’t know of anyone who’s done what you propose to do.”

  Another beat passed, long enough for me to realize that everyone in that cave probably knew more about what was going on than I did. But then, what was new about that?

  “What will happen if I don’t do it?”

  “The split will die.”

  “And what will happen to me if my split dies? Do we know exactly?”

  Mordecai shook his head. “We don’t, not exactly. Splits are undertaken rarely because of their great risks. But you know that already. There aren’t many cases of something like this happening. In fact, there are none that I know of where this precise situation has occurred.”