Missing Magic (26 page)

“Look.” Skidding to a halt, Cenrick groaned.
“Look at the palace.”

The palace. Dee gaped up at the gray
monstrosity looming above them. “What’s happened to it? It doesn’t
look the same.”

He couldn’t believe his eyes. The crystal
palace now appeared to be made of dull, cloudy glass. Instead of
the glittering, magical structure full of magic and light, the
structure could have come straight out of some grainy, black and
white Dracula movie from the forties.

Dee shook her head. “Are you sure we’re in
Rune?” she asked again.

Heart pounding, he didn’t answer, just kept
urging her along.

They hurried up the steps. The huge,
ornately-carved, double glass doors were open, as though the place
had been abandoned in a hurry.

Abandoned? Nearly running, Cenrick made a
sound of dismay entered the great room. Inside, the colorlessness
was even worse. He shivered. All this dirty grayness brought a
chill, somehow.

Like the chill brought on by Natasha and
her machine
.

Their footsteps echoed painfully as they
hurried down one long, twisting hallway after another. The further
into the palace they traveled, the colder the air. Cenrick couldn’t
get warm, and Dee couldn’t seem to stop shivering. She’d wrapped
her arms around herself for warmth.

“Is it winter here?”

“No. This coldness isn’t normal either.
Something terrible has happened.”

“The palace is deserted. No one’s here.”
Cenrick turned a slow circle. “Where in the name of the Goddess are
they?”

She could only shake her head, a dreadful
foreboding filling her.

They continued on. In each hall, doors had
been flung open, some cracked. Inside, rooms were in various states
of disarray. “Either the Fae became completely untidy, or everyone
had fled in a mass panic,” she said. “It looks like they tossed a
few possessions into a bag and fled. But why?”

“Why exactly.” Grim, Cenrick clutched her
hand. “This looks like they expected a natural disaster of epic
proportions.”

Finally, they stopped in front of one single,
closed door. Dee’s shivers had communicated to him, and he clenched
his teeth to keep them from chattering.

“This looks familiar. Is this—?”

“Mort’s room.” Cenrick cleared his throat. “I
hope he’s here.”

Raising his first to knock, he froze as the
door swung slowly opened in front of him.

“Enter,” a voice boomed from within.

Inside, a fire blazed.

“Warmth!” Dee’s sigh of relief was audible.
She squeezed his hand, tugging him into the room and the blessed,
wonderful warmth.

When he stopped, she tugged her hand free and
continued on to the hearth, stretching her arms out to the
fire.

“Mort?” The room appeared empty. Cenrick saw
no sign of the mage. “He’s gone.”

“But I heard him.” Dee looked around. “That’s
what happened when we first arrive here and you were so ill. I saw
him and heard him, but he vanished like a wisp of smoke.”

“I don’t like this.”

“Me either. But this room feels the best.”
Keeping her back to the fire, Dee took in the room. “The entire
castle is gray, but not in here. Whatever creeping malady had
affected the rest of the palace, it hasn’t made it in here.”

She was right. Rather than the overwhelmingly
depressing shades of gray which permeated the entire atmosphere,
Mort’s sleeping chamber and workspace glowed with a vibrancy of
fabrics and colors. In addition to the roaring fire in the hearth,
the room was also lit by the light of hundreds of fragrant
candles.

In short, like normal.

Movement in the shadows caught his eye. A
hooded figure stepped forward. His appearance might have been
menacing had his robe not been made of a rich purple material that
might have been silk. Still, since this room and his clothing was
the first hint of color they’d seen since arriving, the man
appeared to glow with vitality.

“Mort?”

He lowered his hood. “Not Mort. It is I.”

“Father?” Cenrick’s heart sank. His father’s
appearance had him even more worried. “What are you doing here,
alone in this room? Where’s Mort? For that matter, where is
everyone? What’s happened here?”

Never taking his eyes from Dee, the older man
shook his head. “The palace is empty,” he said simply, as though
that was explanation enough.

“Empty?” Cenrick’s sharp tone belied his
panic. “How is this possible? Where’s Mort?”

“He has gone.”

“He was here when we first arrived,” Dee put
in. “He spoke to me.”

“When was this?” Lowering his hood, King
Roark’s piercing blue eyes swept over them. He swept back his mane
of curly white hair and smoothed his flowing beard.

“Yesterday.” Dee lifted her chin, looking at
Cenrick for confirmation. “I think.”

“Impossible. He has been gone several
days.”

“Gone where?” Cenrick stepped forward,
drawing his sire’s attention.

“To consult the Oracle.” The King turned the
full force of his piercing blue gaze on his son. “Since you left,
things have steady worsened. More and more Fae have returned to
Rune as husks, stripped of their souls. We could no longer keep
such a thing hidden. The people have panicked.”

“Left?” Cenrick asked. Such a concept was
incomprehensible. “They’ve abandoned their home?”

“Yes. For the first time in many Millenniums,
the Fae have deserted Rune.” The King’s bleak tone matched his
son’s.

“Where have they gone?”

King Roark sighed. “Some have gone to the
forest of Zanbar, but most traveled across the Plains of Lothar, to
hide in the mountains of Kilian.”

“What about the damaged ones?”

“Mort has taken this latest batch to the
Oracle.” Again the King’s bright gaze found Dee. “Now, who is this?
I sense great power in her. I thought I knew all of my subjects,
but I don’t recognize you. Son, are you going to introduce us?”

Cenrick sighed. “Father, she’s not Fae. This
is Dee Bishop, a human woman. Dee, allow me to present my Father,
King Roark of Rune.”

Dee’s expression nearly made him laugh.
Cenrick could tell she didn’t know the proper protocol for meeting
a king. Should she bow? Curtsy?

Finally, she settled for dipping her head in
a gesture of recognition. She gave a visible jump when the older
man took her hand and kissed the back of it.

Again, the King’s bright gaze showed his
approval. “Exquisite, my son. Your taste equals your brother’s. But
do not lie to me. I know Fae power when I see it.”

Quickly, Cenrick explained what he’d
done.

“No. No spell could work so well on a human,
not here. Not in Rune. She’s Fae.”

Dee and Cenrick exchanged a glance. Finally,
Dee shrugged. “If believing that makes you happy, then I’m
glad.”

“But this is not a social call.” Cenrick went
on to detail as concisely as he could what had happened to bring
them to Rune.

When he’d finished, the King appeared to have
aged twenty years. “I had hoped you’d come with better news.”

Heart heavy, Cenrick turned to Dee. “We must
go to the Oracle. Perhaps together, she and Mort can come up with
an answer.”

She nodded her agreement.

“Father?” Cenrick touched the older man’s
sleeve. “Will you come with us?”

“Nay.” Pride and another, more sorrowful
emotion flared in King Roark’s eyes. Replacing his hood, he shook
his head. “I will not leave my home. As long as one Fae remains
here, the magic will not entirely desert Rune.”

“I swear to you, I will find a way to stop
this.” Cenrick clapped his father on the shoulder.

“I know you will, son. But you’d better
hurry. If you take too much longer, I’m afraid it will be too late
for us all.” He stepped back in to the shadows.

Cenrick held out his hand. Without
hesitation, Dee took it. He began speaking the words to send them
to the Oracle.

When they reappeared at the edge of the
Oracle’s mountain, they saw the gray lifelessness had reached the
boundaries of the fields, even here, though the mountain itself
still retained the normal hues of sepia and earth. And the number
of hollow-eyed people milling about had quadrupled. Or – he did a
hasty re-estimate – worse. There were now so many, even the Oracle
could not contain them within her caves.

Above them, a shadow. A screech. With a swoop
of massive wings, the hawk flew over them, landing on an
outcropping of rocks.

“Tinth.”

The bird cried out in reply. Taking off, she
flew low, leading them towards the Oracle’s cave.

“At least Mort sent his pet hawk.” Cenrick
told Dee. “And he does not bid us hurry. I know not to fear for him
if the bird leads us so slowly.”

Hand in hand, they climbed silently. When
finally they gained the summit, Cenrick helped her make the last
few feet, pulling her into his arms.

“Thank you,” she said softly. Her
heart-shaped face was cloaked in shadows and gold, courtesy of the
flickering torches.

Never had he found a woman so precious, so
lovely.

He told her so.

She smiled a wan smile. “Maybe it’s time you
remove the spell that makes me appear Fae.”

Shaking his head, he leaned forward and
kissed her. “Not yet. And your beauty has nothing to do with the
spell.”

She sighed. “Let’s go.”

Tinth called out her agreement.

No one, neither the Oracle nor the Mage, nor
some hollow-eyed Soulless Fae, came out to greet them. Every few
feet, more torches flickered along the stone walls, the flames
sending shadows to beat back the encroaching grayness from
above.

Holding tightly to Dee’s hand, Cenrick led
the way up the steps and into the Oracle’s cave.

At the entrance, Dee hesitated. “Even here,
something is different,” she mused.

He sensed it too. Sniffing the air, he
realized the air was no longer heavy with the spicy fragrance of
the Oracle’s incense.

“There is no perfumed scent, like before.”
Dee’s words confirmed his fear. “Only the damp smell of cold earth,
and stagnant water upon stone.”

“Something else,” he told her. “The silence –
there are no wind chimes tinkling, as they were the last time we
came here.” He tugged her forward. “Come on. At least the torches
still burn normally. Let’s find the Oracle and Mort and learn
what’s happened.”

Traveling the narrow passageways, finally
they came to the great cave.

All was ominously silent, save the steady
dripping of water from some internal stream. Still no one came to
meet them.

Only Tinth, circling above, reassuring him
that all was secure.

Dee squeezed his hand. “I know I’ve only been
here once, but this feels wrong.”

“I know.” He’d begun to get used to her
intuitive understanding of all things magical. “But I trust the
hawk. She would not lead us down here if we were in danger.”

Still, when they reached the inscribed,
double stone doors, he hesitated.

“What’s wrong?” Dee asked.

“One does not usually enter the Oracle’s home
uninvited.” Heart heavy, he pulled the handle. The heavy stone
groaned as the door began to swing slowly open.

The huge room was only dimly lit. No smoke
burned from the numerous incense braziers, and only a few of the
hundred plus candles were lit. Even the hearth fire, though
burning, seemed dispirited, the weak flames giving little light and
even less heat.

It felt as if the grayness had made its way
here already.

“You have come.” At the head of the room, on
the seldom used dais, the Oracle waited. Hooded and cloaked as
usual, the red of her burning eyes even seemed duller. At her side,
clothed in black, sat the Mage of Rune. His hawk flew to him, to
perch on the back of his chair.

“Come closer.” The Oracle’s voice carried
across the distance.

The Oracle sounded so… old. And tired.
Exchanging a glance with Dee, Cenrick led the way forward.

“About time you got here, boy.” Mort stood as
they approached the dais, holding out his arms in welcome.

Cenrick hugged him. “What has happened? I’ve
been to Rune and the palace is—.”

“I know, I know.” Mort waved him to silence.
“Things have gone to hell in a hand basket. Everything’s bad. We’ve
got to fix it. But first, what brings you here?”

Again, Cenrick told the story of his capture
and Natasha’s claim of power.

While the Oracle remained silent, the Mage
appeared most interested in Cenrick’s physical reaction to her
machine.

“So this thing, whatever it is, takes all
your strength.” Mort stroked his beard. “And then, somehow, this
human woman absorbs your magic into herself?”

“That’s what she said. I barely made it out
of there with my soul intact,” Cenrick admitted, glad he still held
fast to Dee’s hand.

“But your theory was correct? For some
reason, as long as Dee touched you, the effect was negated?”

“Yes.”

Mort turned his attention on Dee. “You look
different. Your aura – it’s as if you were Fae rather than
human.”

“He put Fae glitter on me.” Dee stepped
forward. “So Natasha’s associates wouldn’t realize I was human. We
were trying to trick them into capturing me, believing I was Fae,
so we could find the machine and destroy it.”

“What happened?”

“They got Cenrick instead.”

“Yet,” the Mage still studied her. “This is
more than a spell. You truly appear to be Fae.”

“That’s what father said.”

Mort nodded, his gaze still on Dee. “But you
were unaffected by this machine?” He watched her closely. “You felt
no pull, no weakening of your strength?”

“No. But then, I’m human, not Fae.” Her grip
on Cenrick’s fingers tightened. “And I never even got close to the
machine.”

Mort shook his head sadly. “I can’t believe
one errant Fae brought such a thing up our people.”