The Lord of Illusion - 3 (34 page)

“There are too many of them,” said Camille, her legs frozen with shock and terror.

Drystan held the golden scepter before them, the tip of it glowing like a miniature sun. “All the elven lords save Breden have sent their creatures against us. The advantage of the Rebellion was in our ability to work together. If the elven lords have joined forces—”

Camille tried to twist her hand from his. Her every instinct told her to run. Drystan turned and stared into her eyes, his golden irises shining with sympathy… and an inner strength she had glimpsed more than once. “I need you, Camille. Stand firm.”

And she did. How could she not, when he needed her? She had been stronger than her fellow slaves, always striving to better her position. But Drystan gave her even more strength. As if the two of them together could conquer the world.

Or an army of the elven lords.

“How is it possible they see through my gems’ spell of invisibility?” demanded Lady Joscelyn.

“I believe the elven lords are working together,” shouted Dominic, confirming Drystan’s worst suspicion. “The power of three elven, or in this case, at least four, can break through the spell of three half-breeds.”

Camille’s world narrowed to Drystan’s hand in hers. A distant part of her watched Lady Joscelyn use the lavender scepter to control the dragons. They spit gouts of flame at the advancing army. She watched the soldiers burn and fall, to form piles of black within the snow. But they kept coming, and many made their way past the circle of dragons. Dominic used gray fire to create a wall of flame about them, but it did not hold back the magical creatures, who plunged through the wall. Lady Cecily called to the snow and ice, and formed another wall just behind Dominic’s.

But the creatures broke through that, as well.

Dorian tried his green scepter, calling up hibernating roots from beneath the snow, weaving them together to form another wall behind the first two.

Drystan conjured an illusion of a golden wall just behind the green. Morning had broken, and the bricks sparkled in the new light.

For a moment, silence reigned.

“Our defenses will not hold against the creatures,” said Dominic. “The elven lords are somehow strengthening them.”

“And we cannot attack with our magic,” added Lady Cecily.

“Why not?” asked Camille.

Alexander turned and gave her a crooked grin. “My dear, we risk hurting our fellow Englishmen. What good is it to conquer the elven lords, if we have no countrymen left to turn the land over to?”

“Of course. I did not think… what are we to do?”

“My dragons have fallen,” interrupted Lady Joscelyn, lowering her lavender scepter.

Camille turned to her with a frown. “How do you know?”

“I can feel the death of my gems,” she explained.

Drystan turned and nodded in the direction of the forest. “The creatures may follow us in there, but humans will not, no matter what enchantment the elven lords try to coerce them with—their fear of the place runs too deep. We will have a better chance to fight back.”

“I hate it when you’re right,” said Giles. Then he spun, for one of the creatures had already managed to break through all of their defenses. A hideous beast with wicked claws and a horned head. Giles’s sword curved in an arch, decapitating the creature. Camille watched in horrified fascination as his sword began to absorb the blood of the dead body.

Samson and Alexander spun in slow circles, watching the walls for any more breaches. Wilhelmina joined them, grinning as she drew her sword. “I suggest you make a decision soon, or it is liable to get rather bloody.”

Samson raised his voice over the sound of grinding metal. “If we are lucky.”

And a creature of iron burst through Drystan’s golden wall. Composed of squares of metal and barbs of steel, it swung a long chain with a bladed ball at the end of it. Wilhelmina ducked and swung her sword, catching the creature on the leg. A loud clang made Camille grit her teeth, and Wilhelmina cringe from arm to toe. Alexander screamed a battle cry and launched himself at the creature in defense of his wife.

Camille forced herself not to blink. Alexander, the Duke of Chandos, was indeed a sword-dancer. He spun about the metal creature with deadly grace, avoiding the hundreds of wicked blades by twisting his body in amazing configurations. The duke’s sword flashed in a blur of silver shadow, penetrating the seams that held the pieces of metal together in parody of a human shape. Within moments, the individual parts separated, and a pile of metal rubble lay on the snowy ground.

“No blood,” growled Samson.

“Indeed,” panted Alexander.

Dominic raised a pale brow and faced the four other half-breeds wielding scepters. “Lady Joscelyn, now that your dragons have fallen, add a bit of stone to our barrier, will you?”

She nodded, and the ground shivered, enormous columns of crystal sprouting from it to cover Drystan’s golden bricks. The space inside their circle became very close.

“On my count, lower your walls to the forest. One, two, now.”

Color flashed: blue, green, lavender, black, and gold. An opening formed in the wall, and Camille could see the forest through the tunnel. “The storm has passed.”

“Indeed,” agreed Dorian, his green faceted eyes directed at the trees. “It will allow us to enter.”

He spoke as if the wood communicated with him. No wonder people called him forest lord.

“It will not last for long,” warned Giles. “The seven powers will clash again.”

“Is there any regularity to the occurrences?” asked Drystan, as if he discussed a theoretical problem from one of his books. Camille admired his calm manner. It made their situation seem somehow… less frightening.

“No,” answered Lady Cecily, as she lifted her skirts and walked quickly toward the tunnel. Giles mumbled something and followed her. Dominic intercepted them at the entrance, and as always, he and his lady took the lead.

Camille walked over a layer of crystal, golden brick, and dry vines. A shout rang out just as she raised her foot to place it on a layer of ice. She looked up, but could not see past the broad shoulders of the men in front of her.

“What is it, Drystan?”

“Monsters,” he replied. “They are blocking our way to the forest.”

Fifteen

Dominic shouted something, and Camille could see a sudden flash of heat and light. Drystan clasped her hand tightly and his scepter began to glow, shaping itself into a golden sword. “We will have to fight our way through.”

Camille swallowed. Drystan held her right hand, and so she held her sword in her left. She could barely use the blade with her left, but as they ran forward, she realized she needn’t have worried. Her enchanted blade did all the work; she only had to be brave and hold on.

Which turned out to be harder than she would have thought.

Dominic fought his attackers with short bursts of flame, avoiding humans whenever he could. Humans had been forced to fight in the elven wars, and even now, it became apparent their hearts were not in the battle. Very few of them fought alongside the monsters.

Lady Cassandra moved as gracefully as her son, both of them wielding their swords as if they danced to some wild tune. Lady Cecily called forth whirlwinds of blinding snow while her husband’s sword drank blood time and again. Dorian and Lady Joscelyn’s scepters had transformed into swords like Drystan’s, while Alexander and Wilhelmina and Samson wielded ordinary blades of steel with much more skill. The redheaded assassin, Aurelia, threw blades that had been enchanted to return to her hand like loyal hounds.

They were the best the Rebellion had to offer. The monsters did not stand a chance against them.

Camille might have felt in awe, if she had not been so busy with her own sword. At first, she could not distinguish one attacker from another. Beings made of fire and black ooze, of sticks and mud, of horns and decayed flesh. She winced when her sword cut them down. But then she noticed their eyes. Inhuman eyes, filled with madness and a gleeful desire to see her dead. She had never felt such hatred directed at her before. It frightened her… and then made her determined to rob them of the satisfaction of her death.

By the time they reached the relative safety of the forest, blood and gore spattered the front and side of her riding dress. The rest of the company looked no better, and a silence fell among them. The forest now seemed quite at odds with the maelstrom of magic Camille had witnessed earlier. The massive trunks and undergrowth muted the sound of the army beyond them. A gentle breeze shushed through the canopy of leaves, and although the temperature still made her breath frost, no snow reached past that shady barrier.

“They shall gather the courage to follow us soon enough,” said Dominic, his face now as haggard as it had been in Firehame. Indeed, most of the company looked drained, and Camille wondered if she should volunteer to touch them.

How odd, to think she could make a difference.

“We had best move,” he continued. “Lady Cecily, which way?”

The blue-eyed woman shrugged. “My father, Viscount Althorp, led us to the source of magic. I know only that it lies within the center of the forest.”

“Next to a large lake,” added Giles. “Sense the direction of the water, my dear, and we shall find it.”

She gave him a tired nod, clasped her scepter a bit more tightly, and led them forward on a rough path through the trees. Camille stripped branches bare of leaves as she walked, and used them to wipe at her gown, trying to remove the worst of the gore. Drystan noticed her distress and used his magic to help, as did the rest of those holding scepters, each in the manner of their particular magical skill.

“Keep your eyes upon me,” warned Cecily, “and not on the trail. It will trick you to another path, and you shall be lost.”

“Why am I not surprised?” said Samson in that gravelly voice of his.

“Lady Cecily,” interrupted Dorian, “we were given only a brief explanation of our mission. Perhaps you should describe this source of magic to us. What, exactly, are we looking for?”

She spoke over her shoulder as she led them forward. “It appears to be nothing more than a natural spring sheltered by crystal rocks, with small streams flowing from it. It does not reveal its true nature until the black fire comes with the maelstrom. That’s when my father witnessed the doorway to Elfhame.”

“Tell them how he managed to survive to witness it,” said Giles, a hint of vindication in his voice.

“He was suspended in crystal at the time. It somehow kept his essence alive when his body died.”

“You might have mentioned this earlier,” snapped Wilhelmina.

“It changes nothing,” interrupted Dominic, his voice low with some deep emotion. “I can protect us from black fire, long enough to open this doorway, if we can. This is our only chance. We shall succeed.”

Camille took heart from his words, as did the rest of the company.

The feeling lasted until the sound of breaking branches and bloodthirsty growls grew behind them.

“The monsters have finally found their courage,” said Alexander, an odd hint of amusement in his voice. Camille glanced at him. She could not understand him, for he appeared to view everything with some degree of humor.

“Shall we fight, or run?”

“Dominic is too old to run,” teased Giles, as if Alexander’s cavalier manner had infected him. “And my sword still thirsts for more blood.”

Dominic turned and scowled at him, and with a flick of his black scepter, created demons of fire. Lady Cecily managed to add some vicious-looking water nymphs, Lady Joscelyn some creatures made of shimmering stone, and Drystan added some golden demons. After they dispersed their creatures, Dorian turned and wove the trees of the forest behind them into a seemingly impenetrable wall.

“That should keep them away for a while,” said the forest lord.

“Why did you not create such beings before?” asked Camille.

“It is… distracting,” answered Drystan, with a tug on her hand as they made their way through the gloomy forest once again. “I must keep half my will trained upon them, or they shall go their own way. It is difficult to do while trying to defend yourself, although I imagine the others are better at it than I, having more practice.”

“Any use of our magic is draining,” said Lady Joscelyn. “We are trying to conserve our strength for opening the portal, for we have no idea how much power we will need to accomplish it.”

The forest suddenly opened up into a wide meadow. The snow had managed an entrance here, for the ground lay covered in a sheet of unbroken white. Camille followed in the deep footsteps of those in front of her, suddenly realizing how very tired she felt. And she had no magic to drain her. She could only imagine how those who wielded the scepters must feel, although Drystan looked alert. Perhaps because he still held her hand.

“Shall I offer to help them?” Camille murmured.

Drystan glanced up at the gloomy sky, the sun hidden behind gray clouds, and then around at the rest of their fellows. “Dominic is aware of your gift, Camille. He will ask you if he thinks there is need… but I believe he will wait until we join the scepters. All of our strength must go into that moment, for whatever happens before then will not matter a whit unless—”

“Look,” cried Lady Joscelyn, her lavender scepter held up to the skies. “It is one of mine.”

They followed her gaze and saw a small dark speck circling above them. A flash of lavender sparked, an answering reflection in Lady Joscelyn’s scepter.

“It is one of my dragons!”

“Malcolm,” breathed Lady Cecily, and at his name, a sigh of relief seemed to envelop the company as one. “Our odds of triumphing keep increasing.”

Smiles wreathed the faces of those around her, and Camille could not help but feel hopeful for the first time. All of their plans hinged upon Malcolm, and he had come!

They all watched as the dark speck grew larger, into the blue scales and wide wings of a dragon. It circled lower until Camille could see it carried one rider, a man with flowing white hair and the silver sparkle of a rich heritage of elven blood.

He lifted a hand and waved at them.

“Thank providence for this clearing,” said Drystan. “Or he would not have found us beneath the trees.”

“It is probable he has been circling for some time looking for us,” mused Giles. “And only now has dropped lower to—”

A bolt of murky color shot from a group of trees beyond the meadow, striking the dragon squarely in the chest. Lady Joscelyn cried out and fell to her knees, her skirts a puddle in the snow. Samson knelt at her side. “Jo!”

She shook her head. “Do not worry. I just need a moment… to recover.”

But Camille had no time to be concerned for the lady, for the dragon’s wings had crumbled to ash, and beast and rider separated, the man windmilling his arms as he fell. Within moments, the blue dragon burst into a flame of multicolored fire, and only a thin streak of black testified to the creature’s existence.

“Damn,” muttered Drystan, and he held up his golden scepter before anyone else had time to react. The snow within the meadow suddenly erupted into puffy balls, and Camille could not help smiling. When the man reached the earth, he fell into a soft pile of golden-edged cloud.

“Quick thinking,” said Dominic.

“Well done,” echoed Giles.

Drystan only gave them a nod before dispersing his illusion, then towed Camille forward behind Dorian, who reached the man first and helped Malcolm gain his feet.

“Softest snow I ever landed in,” muttered Malcolm.

“You have Lord Hawkes to thank for that,” replied Dorian.

The half-breed sketched a wobbly bow, his white hair near disappearing into the snow at his feet. When he rose, he studied the company, most of whom had walked over to join them. Camille tried not to stare, for Malcolm resembled the elven lords too much for comfort. She saw little trace of his human heritage, and if she had not known that an elven lady held the brown scepter, she would have thought him to be an Imperial Lord.

Malcolm flashed them a crooked grin. “Do not let my looks fool you.” He dug inside his pocket, and pulled forth Annanor’s brown scepter. “I can hold it, but I cannot wield the magic within. I had a devil of a time stealing it and bringing it here, but I am afraid I bring you poor hope for the success of your venture.”

“On the contrary,” said Dominic. “You were our best hope, and now we may have a chance.” He turned to Camille. “Perhaps we should make sure you can influence the earth scepter as well?”

“What are you talking about?” demanded Wilhelmina, and Camille realized the duchess had not been privy to her secret.

“Perhaps I should try them all, just to be sure?” suggested Camille.

She loosed her grasp from Drystan, who scowled but allowed her to separate from him. She noticed that his golden scepter still glowed, and wondered that he might have been right. The longer one stayed close to her, the longer her gift appeared to influence them.

She clasped her hand around Malcolm’s, and the brown scepter in his hand glowed with a light she saw reflected in the half-breed’s eyes. Wilhelmina did not spare any more words. She withdrew the silver scepter from her coat pocket and held it out to Camille. Her silver eyes widened when Camille wrapped her fingers around the tall woman’s hand.

“Such power,” murmured Wilhelmina. “It frightens me. Give me my sword over this, any day.”

“You possess a unique talent,” said Malcolm, his face alight with admiration. “I have never heard of such magic.”

Drystan stepped forward and towed Camille back to his side. “Because it is not magic. We can sense none on her person at all. She is some sort of catalyst for power. Perhaps a gift given to her by her ancestor. Perhaps gifted to her line by what they witnessed so long ago.”

“The opening of the gateway between worlds. Damn, is it possible?”

“We shall soon see,” said Dominic.

Malcolm frowned, a marring of his perfect skin. “I had expected to find you waiting for me at the border of the forest, but when I saw the army, I hoped you had made it within, and searched for you there.” His brown faceted eyes studied the company. “It appears you made it through at great cost.”

“As did you,” said Lady Joscelyn, who seemed to have partially recovered from the destruction of the gemstone the dragon had carried, and now joined their group, Samson holding her upright with a strong arm. “Does anyone know what destroyed my dragon?”

Without asking, Camille stepped over to Joscelyn’s side and touched her hand. The lady’s lavender eyes widened nearly as round as Wilhelmina’s, and she took a deep breath, standing up straight and strong. Camille turned toward Dorian, but Dominic waylaid her with a gesture.

“I think,” he said, “we can now assume your gift works with them all.”

“All of what?” demanded Joscelyn.

“All of the scepters. Camille is a catalyst for their powers—”

A crackle drowned out his words, and as one they turned to look behind them.

“At least we shall not have to worry about the army of monsters anymore,” said Alexander.

Samson paled, the scars standing out on his perfect features in vivid relief. “Now we have only the maelstrom to worry about.”

A wall of black fire engulfed the forest behind them, and raced at an uncanny speed to their meadow.

“Come on, old man,” said Giles, turning to Dominic. “Use that elven blood of yours to run.” And he grabbed his arm, urging him forward. Dominic shrugged him off with a scowl, but leapt ahead with elven grace, his lady at his side.