Oszlár’s eyes widened. “Nothing,” he said. “This is not the work of the keepers.”
“We both know who did this,” Aaron said darkly. “The question is how do we get her out?”
“I have no idea.” Oszlár sounded sincere, but Aaron had little patience with the keepers or trust in their motives at the moment.
Worry and frustration clouded Aaron’s thoughts. He left Oszlár and approached the orb’s shell. “Joy?” he shouted. He banged on the side with his palm. “Joy?” He put his ear to the stone.
“My lord druid,” Griogair said. When Aaron did not reply, the prince called, “Aaron! It’s not safe to stand so close. What if the spirit returns? It may take you both.”
Aaron ignored him. He took a stylus out of his pocket and began to trace the rune for
open
onto the rock. Stone wasn’t easy for him to manipulate at the best of times, but the stylus surprised him and sunk into the hard surface and the lines appeared. The orb shuddered, and the ruts he’d carved filled up as though the shell was made of liquid. “She won’t be able to breathe in there long,” he said. “We must get her out.”
Within moments, Rory arrived at a run, followed by Flùranach and several Mistwatchers. Griogair quickly explained the situation.
Rory asked the prince, “What can I do?”
Griogair shook his head, looking helpless.
Aaron turned to Rory and Lisle. “Munro was taken. He’s being held in some kind of prison, built to hold one of the original draoidh. Whoever kidnapped him tried to take Joy. She’s trapped inside.”
“But Queen Eilidh believes Munro is dead,” Flùranach argued.
He didn’t have the time or patience to explain everything. “He called to me today.”
Lisle spoke to the keepers. “The Stone is responsible?”
Oszlár frowned. “The Stone is an object, not a sentient creature with a voice. It has clearly been manipulated.”
“I don’t care who did this or why, only how to get them both back,” Aaron said. He put his hand on the orb, refusing to let himself wonder how long Joy might have before she suffocated. She had survived so much. “I’m going to the Stone,” he said.
Suddenly, the orb wavered. An arc of cobalt light warped around the dais. Without warning, Tràth and Douglas materialised, walking out of the solid stone hand in hand. Douglas appeared shaken. He stumbled to the ground, shivering as though he’d been fished out of ice water. “Bloody hell,” he said.
Tràth knelt beside him. “Breathe.” He looked up at Aaron. “We turned around the moment he realised…something about the rune you wrote.”
Douglas let Tràth help him to his feet. “Remember what I said? How you wrote the rune wrong? I don’t think you did. Jailers. Keepers. Think about it.”
Aaron’s mind raced as he tried to grasp what Douglas was saying. It fit with the rather cryptic hints Oszlár had thrown out about Ewain being
disposed of
by the other draoidh. He
was
still alive, and at least some of the keepers must have known. Had Oszlár lied? As angry and confused as he felt, he shook the thought free and tried to focus on the present. He gestured at the orb. “How the hell did you move through there?” he asked.
“We time-walked,” Tràth said. “I’ve recently gained a little more control over the flows. When we arrived at the dais, the portal was solid and black, so I bent time to travel to the moment before it changed.”
Aaron had a million questions, but they’d wait. “Joy is trapped inside. Can you do the same thing to get her out?”
Tràth furrowed his brow and approached the orb. “I’ll try.” He stood perfectly still for an instant until, with a dizzying distortion of light, he vanished. Ghostly images of him popped around the orb in varying locations, seemingly all at once, the light strobing in a whirl of intermittent illumination.
All the images coalesced into one. He looked out of breath. “I saw her. She’s alive, but someone is definitely holding her. He fought me the moment I attempted to reach her.”
The news crushed Aaron’s hopes. “Her captor wanted me to feed power into the Stone.” He turned to the other druids. “The only way I can think to fight him is to drain the Stone.”
“No!” Oszlár shouted. “The Stone keeps our people alive. Damaging it may kill us all.”
Aaron spun to him. “You said you protect the Stone because if it is destroyed, your people will die. What if jailing Ewain,
keeping
him, is what those words mean? That his release would cause the deaths, not the destruction of the Stone.”
Oszlár paused, but shook his head. “You saw what happened to the Ashkyne kingdom when it was cut off from the Source Stone a year ago. If the Stone is destroyed, this fate may take us all. Think! The Source Stone is the oldest artefact in our histories, predating Ewain’s removal by a long stretch.”
Rory interrupted. “We aren’t talking about destroying anything. We could drain the power Douglas and Lisle fed in over the past year. That might weaken whoever is doing this enough to break Joy free.”
“I cannot allow you to harm the Stone,” Oszlár said. He signalled to the other keepers, and they tapped into their flows, using air to erect a shield over the library entrance. “I’m sorry, my lord druid, but you are not behaving rationally.”
Aaron’s resolve wavered. He felt foolish for what he’d been thinking and became calmer, almost sedate. His worry for Joy faded slowly.
Leocort shouted, “Mistwatchers! Be on the alert!” Aaron turned and watched as Leocort and the others with him surrounded Flùranach. She cried out in anguish and frustration. In an instant, clarity returned to Aaron’s mind.
“No!” she shouted. “You must listen to the keepers!”
Rory looked stricken, and his expression thundered with anger. “You used your power to manipulate Aaron’s mind? You are sworn to the Druid Hall!”
“You must do as Keeper Oszlár says,” she protested. “He is older and wiser than all of you.”
Aaron didn’t want to hear it. “Deal with her elsewhere,” he told Rory. Aaron felt sapped of his strength, but he knew this, at least, wasn’t Flùranach’s fault. With her powers bound by the Mistwatchers, she would not be able to cast illusions or influence his mind.
Rory grabbed Flùranach by the arm, but she didn’t resist. “I hold your will,” he said. “Submit to me.” The command had an odd effect on her, and her face went slack. Rory must have been using the power of her bonding oath against her. Because he had not said the ritual words, she had no defence against his domination. Aaron wasn’t comfortable with it, but now wasn’t the time to worry about the foolish girl and her divided loyalties.
Rory led Flùranach to the Druid Hall, followed by the Mistwatchers that bound her power. Aaron had always suspected she’d be trouble, but he pitied Rory. They’d all been through so much. Would the trials never end?
Tràth stepped close to Aaron. “Do you really believe you can drain the Stone without breaking it?” His voice fell dead, as though he’d used air flows to keep his words from being overheard.
Aaron nodded. “I do.”
“I can time-walk you into the library,” he said.
“I’m worried that he’ll fight us if he knows what we’re doing,” Aaron said, hoping Ewain couldn’t hear through the air shield. The ground shook, and Aaron staggered a few steps. “What’s happening?” he said, looking to the keepers.
“It’s Joy,” Griogair shouted, pointing at the orb. “The same thing happened when she was using the rattle artefact. She’s trying to break out.”
With a thunderous crack, a fissure appeared on the orb, and the ground beneath their feet shuddered. The people around the courtyard struggled to remain standing as the earth heaved. Aaron tried not to think of the miles of formless mist below them.
“Let’s go,” Aaron said to Tràth. “You, me, and Douglas. Ewain, the one who has Munro, said Douglas and I were the only ones who could give him what he needed, because we were bonded.”
Tràth nodded. With a whisper, he released the air shield around them.
Aaron turned to the others. “We’re going below. This might get dangerous. You may want to return to the Hall.”
Lisle shook her head. “If Joy emerges, she may need help.”
“We’ve decided to give Ewain what he wants. If we do, maybe he’ll let them go.”
Griogair signalled for his people to move to the back of the courtyard.
“What you’re proposing is—” Oszlár began, but with a brief incantation, Tràth took Aaron and Douglas’ hand and stopped time.
The scene distorted, everyone frozen in mid-action. Aaron turned to Tràth, who was smiling. Every movement required effort. “You’ll get used to the sensation,” Tràth said, his voice sounding as though he spoke through water.
“We should hurry,” Aaron said.
Tràth laughed. “Why? We have all the time in the world.”
Douglas shook his head. “This is too disorienting. Please don’t wait.”
With a nod, Tràth relented. “Very well.” His eyes unfocused. “A few minutes should be enough.” Without releasing Douglas’ hand, he gestured in the air as though turning a page. “Don’t let go of me,” he said. “Moving against time is difficult, but as long as you hold on, we’ll be fine.”
Aaron gripped tighter, cursing that his hands had begun to sweat.
Tràth smiled and stepped forward. “Don’t worry. I know what I’m doing.” In truth, he did seem surprisingly at ease. Had the renewal of the bond with Douglas strengthened him, or did something else improve his control over his temporal flows?
Tràth transported them to the moments before the keepers erected their shield of air. The trio walked to the entrance of the library and descended the stairs. Tràth kept them moving through the thick, cold air, which pressed against them like a heavy headwind.
It felt as though hours passed before they reached the room where the Source Stone rested, but Tràth assured Aaron they had moved outside the time stream. They would appear, he explained, to arrive the same instant in which they left. When Tràth let go of Aaron’s hand, warmth flowed over him. The druids shivered hard with the abrupt change.
Aaron staggered toward the Source Stone and rested his hands on the casing that housed it. “Ewain!” he shouted. “Release Joy and Munro, and I’ll give you what you need.”
The Stone rose to meet him. The ground shook again, and dust showered down from the ceiling of the cavernous chamber. Joy must still be fighting, in spite of her fear. Aaron closed his eyes, trying to send calm and encouragement through their bond.
He approached the Stone. Glancing back at Douglas, he said, “Come on. We have to try.”
Douglas nodded, but Tràth appeared hypnotised by the overwhelming magic of the Stone. Aaron found it difficult to comprehend that he, a mere human, had grown accustomed to such a force.
Sitting opposite Aaron, Douglas put his hands on the Stone. “Ewain can hear us?” he asked cautiously.
Aaron nodded. He had no idea if Ewain watched them as well as listened to them.
“What do we do? Feed it like always?” Douglas said.
Aaron smiled. “Slow and easy as a
Glasgow kiss
.” The Scottish slang meant headbutt, and Aaron was gambling Ewain wouldn’t know the expression.
The corner of Douglas’ mouth quirked into a smile, and he carried on the deception. “What if he doesn’t release them?”
“We’ll just have to trust him, I suppose.”
“All right,” Douglas said and closed his eyes.
The cavern shook. Joy must have struck her prison walls with the artefact again.
Keep going, Joy. We’ll meet in the middle.
Aaron delved into the rock with his fingers and instead of feeding, he began to pull. The surface beneath his hands filled with tiny fissures. The top layer of the Stone turned to dust as power surged through Aaron’s body.
Joy slammed against the orb once more with her artefact. Aaron sensed the heaving of her untamed powers crash against the Source Stone even while he and Douglas did their best to drain it. An earthquake rumbled in earnest, and the walls crumbled around them. Dust and debris fell, and the roar of a cave-in filled his ears.
As the Source Stone cracked down its middle, Aaron sensed a rush of relief from Joy. They had to stop draining the Stone, or they risked destroying it. Had they done enough to save both her and Munro? He pulled back, and Douglas did the same, but the violent tremors did not stop. A chunk of stone fell from the ceiling, shattering on the ground nearby.
“We have to get out,” Tràth shouted.
Aaron nodded and stood.
“What about the Stone?” Douglas said.
“There’s still power in it,” Aaron said. “We’ll worry about repairing the damage when we’re sure Joy and Munro are safe.”
He helped Douglas to his feet in the shaking room, and they headed to the entrance, only to find the stairwell had collapsed. He turned to Tràth. “We need your help again.”
Tràth nodded. “Take my hands.”
∞
Inscribing runes onto the small rocks drained most of the energy Munro had gained from the three doses of tonic. He’d needed to shape and bind them together, then map each of them to the Halls of Mist. He’d laboured feverishly, trying to ignore his worries about Ewain. Even if his portal worked, he had no idea what he was going to do with the elder druid once they reached the Halls of Mist. Ewain wouldn’t fit in, but what choice did they have? Once again, they’d adapt. If he didn’t want to go to the Druid Hall, what kingdom would want him? On the other hand, what kingdom would refuse the Father of the Sky? No, it would be better to bring him in as one of the Hall. He might be obnoxious, anti-social, and with a dubious moral compass, but he could teach the druids so much.
Munro was sighing with relief at finishing the runes when the first tremor hit. Dread curled in his stomach. The only time he’d felt a quake like this was when the druids were manipulating the Source Stone. Munro scrambled to his feet. The rickety portal was ready. He had no idea if it would function properly or if using it would be safe. He’d learned a lot when constructing the Mistgate. He only hoped his newfound knowledge was sufficient.
Drained of energy, he shuffled as fast as his dead legs would carry him to Ewain’s house. The lack of breathing and heartbeat disconcerted him, but willpower kept his corpse moving on course. A loud roar echoed through the sky, and he glanced up at the bleakness. What at first looked like tens of thousands of ravens sweeping toward him made him falter. His dread worsened when he realised the sky was literally falling. The tallest trees crumbled into soot, and the ground heaved.