Chapter eighty-one

Nine-of-nine

John looked down at the shallow pond.

‘This is the Lady’s doing’ he said

‘A defence of some kind?’ Hardacre asked

‘I assume so’

‘Do you think that Bea will be able to get past it?’

John frowned. He had found the journey down to this point disquieting, and had been surprised, even after clear directions, that they hadn’t got hopelessly lost in the labyrinth of narrow green corridors.

‘Perhaps not; we would certainly be foolish to try to disrupt it in any way’

Hardacre could see the portal clearly across the pond on the other side of the room. It shone with a familiar orange light.

‘That’s just like the one in Klethropolis’

‘And no mortal could get through that?’

‘Major Viola was able to walk through, but otherwise no…’

‘And Bea?’

‘She temporarily disabled it…’

‘And she will do the same again…’

 John knelt at the edge of the pool. He wanted to brush the surface of the water with his hand, but resisted the temptation.

‘This whole complex is only tolerating us under sufferance you know’ whispered Hardacre.

‘I know’

‘What should we do?’

‘Wait’

John put his hand on Hardacre’s shoulder and muttered ‘Cyfuniad’. They disappeared against the marble walls, no living eyes could distinguish them from their surroundings. They stood stock still until their enemies came.

A few minutes later Bea appeared in front of them. Vala materialised a second after. They seemed to know exactly where they were going.

The pool was gone. What has happened to the Lady?  Fear gripped John’s  guts. Bea jumped down into the empty basin. She slipped her hand into her jacket pocket and pulled out a blue sphere and threw it up into the portal. Zigzag lines spat out of the ball in all directions and proceeded to spread through the pink-orange magical field. The field didn’t flicker, it just went out. Bea clambered up and hurried though the hole she had created. She shouted back to Vala, in Rhylic. “Stay here and guard the entrance”.

John shouted out the counter-spell that freed him from his camouflage. ‘Now!’ he commanded. He rushed over to the basin and through the portal. Hardacre had to stay and deal with Vala. 

Through the portal was a narrow dark corridor with a well-lit chamber at the end of it. John heard the sound of chanted mage-elven in front of him. He had never come across this sort of curse before, but he could easily sense what it was for. In the sandy cavern at the end of the passageway, Bea was murdering the snake elf, unravelling her using her black reverse magecraft spell.  Bea stood just a few feet away from the squirming python form, which was already struggling for breath. This time, though, and unknown to her, she was not without defences.

‘rhyddhau’  shouted John, hoping it would work.

The spell energy earthed away from the naga in a single jolt. Bea turned to look at the source of the interruption.

‘What…?’ Bea, moaned, involuntarily

She snarled at him, astounded.

‘…what are you doing here?’

John grinned . It was a controlled, combative grin.

‘Saving the naga. What does it look like I’m doing?’

‘How did you know that I was here?’

John was pleased that she was asking questions. Kratos would have cast his Sipia

spell immediately. He had no intention of answering.

The naga, dazed but still active, slithered forward and whipped her body round, hoping to encircle her enemy. Bea looked scornfully down at her.

‘Cadwa’ she barked. The snake-elf froze, as the amber light emboxed her.

‘I’ll deal with you later’ she said

This gave John a split second. He didn’t hesitate – it was his sworn duty to kill her.

‘Nharo!’ he shouted, pointing his finger at her. A black bolt of energy flew out from his hand and made its way towards her.  She put her hand up and pushed it to one side. He knew then, even at this early stage, that there was nothing that he could cast that would touch her. She made no attempt to counter yet, she seemed happy to let him try what he would. Somehow he needed to save the naga and the strange thing that she guarded.

He moved rapidly to her side and touched her arm, ‘Rhewi’ he hissed.   Bea froze solid – every part of her body went as cold as an iceberg. For a moment John thought he had stopped her – this was a powerful spell and hard to resist. But, no, she simply warmed up again, instantaneously, not even giving John enough time to free the naga. She went from white to pink in two seconds. She said nothing – she didn’t even smile. Try something else a voice in his brain told him, but he felt very weary and there were other voices, getting stronger, telling him it was time to sleep, to give up, perhaps it was even time to die.

He took three steps back and shouted ‘Darnau’. Pieces of pure energy flew out of mid-air and engulfed Bea. For a moment they crowded round her, bees round a bear, but then she breathed out and they fell off her, harmlessly dropping to the ground. She still made no effort to attack him back.  

Sweat was dripping from his hair and he felt his control slipping. He had never tried to cast so many spells in one go and he felt his mind breaking, skipping forward and back; he felt the gears grinding. He attempted to build up a magical charge using the anrheithia spell.  But when thecharge leapt from his hand to Bea she just stood there, reacting as if to a shiver of static electricity you might get from a sweater.

This is hopeless, he thought, with the tiny remaining sane part of his mind, we are going to fail.   The only consolation is that by now most of his mind didn’t care.

He had used too much magic, but he had little choice but to carry on.  He scrambled around in his emptying mind looking for something (anything) that might be worth trying.

‘Brydia’ he yelped, his head bursting. The sheet of fire erupted from his fingers and engulfed Bea. There was a moment of hope during which John prayed that she had been burned to a cinder, but she walked out from the wall of fire unscathed. Now she smiled.

Something popped in John’s head. He immediately lost all sense of where he was and what he was doing. Words came unbidden to his lips.

‘Will anyone every love me?’

Bea looked shocked for a second, but then she laughed loudly.

‘No, perverted creature – of course they won’t. You are in every respect unlovable; and, of course, unnatural and loathsome’

John lowered his head. His eyes were swimming with tears.

‘I know that it is true. Perhaps I should just stop trying….’

Bea was laughing now so hard she was almost reeling.

‘Kelemeia’ she snorted, ‘how very quaint. Perhaps I will take you home and show how stupid witches can be. You would make a lovely, mad, plaything’

John looked up and saw a giant snake imprisoned in a box. That seemed so unfair.

‘Hojta’ he mumbled, through his endless confusion.

The box split and then disappeared, as if a stiff breeze had swept it away. The naga inside twisted round silently, so that she faced Bea’s back. The snake-elf spat. A green, viscous, liquid arced out from her mouth.  It fell on Bea and her cloak began to fizz and smoke. She looked down at it in astonishment.

‘No, no’ she shouted, turning on the spot, ‘not now. What has happened?’

She threw aside her witch’s cloak, which was now bubbling as if it had been dipped in acid. Her left arm was slick with blood. She glared at the naga with concentrated loathing, and then with a hissed ‘Amranta´ she was gone.

‘Big green snake,’ giggled John, ‘sent nasty woman away’