3.
The Veil that separated Faerie from the human world was so thin in places around Beth-Hill that sometimes it was difficult to tell if you stood in Faerie or the real world.
At night, the tiny white flowers that bloomed on the hillsides in Faerie--larger than spring beauties, but smaller than snowdrops--glowed in the dark. Since the flowers did not grow in the human world--Althea had heard they would not grow in the human world--it was easy to spot the vagaries of the Veil.
They were fully in Faerie for most of the short journey. The glow-in-the-dark flowers helped a little to light her way, but the elf seemed to have no trouble walking in the dark.
That was yet another reason to hate them, Althea thought as she tripped over yet another vine covered branch and landed on her hands and knees inside a small clearing.
"You needn't bow," an amused, silky voice said. "I am not yet a Queen."
Althea scrambled to her feet to face another elf--this one resplendent in blood-red velvet. The light was brighter here, from some invisible source, and it cast strange shadows on the woman's face.
The elf--Magdalen?--sat on a carved wooden throne, despite her denouncement of her status. It looked as if it had been carved while the tree was still alive, because the throne was crowned with branches--dead now--that formed a canopy overhead.
The woman who sat in the throne had hair the color of mahogany, a deep dark red that could never have come out of a bottle. The shadows that lay across her pale skin seemed to writhe for a moment, and Althea had to look away.
Another elf lay at the foot of the throne, bound hand and foot with silken cords. There were bruises on his face--she'd never seen a wounded elf before--and a swatch of silk tied tightly over his mouth. His lips bulged a bit, as if his captors had shoved more silk down his throat to ensure his silence.
He watched her with a glittering gaze, desperate in his silence.
Behind the throne, seated in shadow, was a--a black Hound. It was too imposing to be called a mere dog. It grinned at her as she stared at it, suddenly all too aware of the fact that no one knew she had fled to the forest to soothe her broken heart.
Althea took a careful step back and almost bumped into her escort. She turned on him, only half-aware that it might not be a good idea to turn her back on Magdalen or the Hound.
"You said I would not be harmed!" She felt the first stirrings of panic in her chest.
"And you will not," the woman said. "Please, my dear. Sit down. You are my guest here. And I will explain."
She saw her escort clearly for the first time now; the weariness in his gaze and the way he refused to even look at the woman on the throne or her prisoner. He spared no glance for the Hound, either; it was almost as if he did not see it sitting behind the throne.
"I'll stand," Althea said, and stepped away from the elf at her back. He turned, struggling, she thought, to look unaffected, but the set of his shoulders gave away his tension. She glanced at the woman. "What do you want to talk to me about? Are you Magdalen?"
The woman smiled and nodded. It was not a pleasant smile, and it spoke of despair more than happiness.
"I wish to give you a gift, Althea Dunning," she said. "A gift to help you realize your dreams."
"Gifts from your kind don't turn out well for humans," Althea said, folding her arms. "I'm not stupid, you know." She stared at the elf on the ground, who had closed his eyes. "Who is your prisoner?"
"Someone who displeased me," Magdalen said, bending down to stroke one red fingernail down the side of the elf's face. "And since he is the object of my displeasure today, he will become the example of my gift to you."
The elf shuddered and made a noise deep in his throat. As if protesting his treatment, or begging her for mercy.
Somehow, Althea didn't think that mercy was in Magdalen's vocabulary.
"Most elves hold a certain amount of talent," Magdalen murmured, and positioned her fingernails right on the edge of the elf's left eye. "Unlike you humans, if an elf has no talent, there is no hope that he or she can ever learn magic." She dug her fingernails into the elf's skin suddenly, and he twitched and moaned and tried to move his head away.
A bead of blood ran down the elf's cheek and over his nose. Magdalen's fingernails were sharper than they looked.
"But we can learn magic from books," Althea said, happy--for once--to be human. "And I'm in the top of my class!"
"You were, until the Council chose someone else in your place," Magdalen corrected her, bringing up the cause of all Althea's problems. "It's a shame, really. You tried so hard." She smiled. "And who is this Josiah Hunt, anyway?"
Althea's hands clenched. "He--He--"
Magdalen held up one hand. "You don't have to tell me," she said. "I know what he did to you." Her voice oozed sympathy.
"I tried so hard!" Althea heard her voice quiver, and struggled not to cry. "I tried--"
"And there is a way to get back at him for what he did to you," Magdalen said, almost purring now, like a cat. "There is a way to take someone else's power and use it as your own."
For a short, heart-stopping moment, Althea thought she had misheard. Then, when he mind caught up with what Magdalen had claimed, she stared at the elf with her mouth hanging open in shock.
"It's a spell any human should be able to master," Magdalen continued, her smile widening. "Including you."
"But--but I--wouldn't--" Althea knew even as the words left her mouth that it was a token protest. If she could ensure her position in the Council; if she could taste how it felt to be truly talented in magic--her heart leaped at the advantages such a spell would have.
But she did not want to get caught using such a spell. She clasped her hands together, noticing only vaguely that they were freezing cold. "Send him away."
Magdalen cocked her head. "Send who away?"
"Him." Althea pointed to her escort, who leaned against a nearby tree, his back still turned towards her. "He already--I don't--" Did she truly mean to go through with this? In a rush, she spoke. "I don't want anyone else to know about this." Could the Hound understand human speech? It looked stupid enough, in truth, all brawn and no brain.
"Kyren's no threat." Magdalen laughed. "He will do as I say."
The elf's--Kyren's--shoulders stiffened, but he did not deny her words.
"He doesn't want to be here," Althea whispered. "He--If he tells the Council--"
"He will tell no one," Magdalen said, her voice sharper now. "He would not dare. You needn't fear, my child. Kyren would not betray us."
The word 'us' lay some of Althea's fear to rest. If she was discovered, surely the Council would believe that she had been placed under some sort of spell by the elves. Wouldn't they? Althea had never done something so--she had never had a reason for revenge up until now. Her reputation was blemish-free.
"This spell--what does it do?" She almost wished she had taken Magdalen's offer of a seat, for her knees threatened to collapse at the enormity of what she was planning. "How does it work?"
"I will show you," Magdalen stood in one fluid moment and stepped over her prisoner. Red velvet drifted over his body, masking him from view for one short moment before she stopped in front of Althea. "Take my hand."
Her touch tingled through Althea's body in tiny pinpricks of pain, as if her soul had just awakened from a long slumber. She shivered and focused on revenge. She had been chosen for this, not Josiah.
And he would pay for destroying her dreams.
With her free hand, Magdalen gripped her prisoner's bare forearm, her fingernails puckering his skin. "We are linked now," she said. "Can you feel the power he possesses?"
For the first time in her life, Althea felt something stir in her breast, an alien something that buzzed through her body and sharpened her senses. She smelled ozone, as if lightning had struck nearby, and the rusty odor of old blood.
And through her connection with Magdalen, she sensed the elf's power raging behind the spells that saturated the silk that bound him.
She had no sense of Magdalen's own power. It was as if she had made herself a conduit between Althea and the bound elf, and somehow managed to hide her own talents from the joining.
"Now. Feel me cast the spell." Magdalen's voice came from far away, a tinny echo in Althea's ears.
"I--I can't," Althea felt tears scald her cheeks. "I can't cast spells that way!" She tried to snatch her hand away, but Magdalen tightened her grip.
And something bloomed inside Althea's mind. The concept of a spell, not written down, but a whole spell nonetheless. The casting was simply done; elegant, even. A very simple turn of phrase.
Shadow take you, give me your light.
The elf screamed inside her head. Convulsions rippled through his body, sending waves of pain-tinged power through the connection between them and into Althea's hungry mind.
The power poured through their joining and jolted Althea off her feet. She fell, still holding onto Magdalen's hand, and scrabbled on the ground for a bit before she remembered how to sit up.
The burst was weakening now. When she blinked to clear her sight, she saw that the elf lay slack and still, blood leaking out of his nose and staining the silk that covered his mouth.
Magdalen dropped her hand. When she released the elf's forearm, Althea saw that the skin she had touched was blackened and burned. Residual tremors still ran through the elf's arms and legs, but Althea knew that he was dead. Or very close to dying.
And his power swarmed in her head, muffling both thought and sensation. She tried to rise to her feet and fell again, dizzy now, her sense of balance gone.
"What--" She was shocked to hear her words slur. "What did you do--"
Magdalen took her hand again and drew her up. She was not affected by the spell at all; not a hair on her head had fallen out of place.
"My dear, it is always this way at first," she said, tucking a strand of hair behind Althea's left ear. "You have to get used to such power. And you have to use it as well. Why don't you burn his body for me?"
Althea stared at her. "What? How--" Her skin seemed to crawl at Magdalen's touch, or perhaps it was a residual effect of the spell.
"Try pointing your finger at him and wishing him burned into ash," Magdalen said. "That's how it works when you have talent, my child."
Talent. The word sent barbs of jealousy deep into Althea's soul. She stared at the dead-or-dying elf and felt her awareness center on his body. Talent.
When she pointed her finger at him, a jet of flame ignited his clothes. The fire was so hot that she had to move away, her gaze captured by the flickering flames.
On the other side of the clearing, Kyren had turned towards the fire, but his eyes were closed as if he couldn't bear to watch the flames. The Hound seemed uninterested, almost bored at the proceedings. Althea curled her lip at it in disgust.
Using some of the power helped, but the flickering shadows around the edges of Althea's vision made it difficult for her to keep her balance.
When she concentrated on them, though, they faded away, leaving her preternaturally aware of her surroundings. Every leaf on every tree seemed to be singly outlined in her sight. Every blade of grass was an individual work of perfection. Even the Hound had an aura of darkness surrounding it, like a thundercloud. Only Kyren and Magdalen seemed unchanged.
Although the fire burned freely, it did not touch Magdalen's wooden throne. Althea had not specified that it be spared, but her talent--yes, her talent--had made that distinction for her by focusing the fire on the elf's body. Only his skeleton remained now, and even it had begun its journey into ashes.
Althea licked her lips. "Do you--Do they have to die?"
Magdalen laughed. "Of course not. You can keep your nemesis alive indefinitely and feed from his power forever if you wish." She rescued a small bit of something from the fire and pressed it into Althea's hand before she could refuse.
It was searing cold, this object, not hot as she expected. "What is this?" It was an oblong teardrop, blood-red and curving slightly. It had a strange, almost organic quality to it, smooth and cold like a piece of ice.
"You'll want to keep that," Magdalen said, closing her fingers over it. "It was formed from the last drop of his heart's blood. It is a very powerful token. And if you do wish to keep your nemesis alive, you will need this to shield his presence from everyone who may search for him."
Althea clutched it in her hand. "And the power--the power I took from him--does it fade? Will it go away?"
"Of course, child." Magdalen's smile pitied such a stupid question. "It is not eternal. You will know when you've run out. And then all you have to find is another sacrifice."
"What--what now?" Althea shivered. There was always a price, after all, in dealings with anyone. She'd learned that early on. "What do you want in payment for this gift you've given me?"
Magdalen took her hand and gently led her to where Kyren stood. "I want you to achieve your dreams, my dear. After you hold your place on the Council, I'll contact you again. There is much more than this simple spell that the Council cannot teach you."
"And you can?" Althea asked, breathless at the thought of being tutored by an obviously powerful elf.
Magdalen smiled. "Of course. And I will. Now run along. Kyren will see to your return."
Kyren seemed curiously reluctant to take Althea's hand, but he braced himself and touched her, his face a mask.
As he led her back through the forest, Althea saw that the sky overhead was lighter now--more time had passed than she expected.
"I thought you told me there was no time difference between Faerie and my world!" She snatched her hand from his grasp. "Did you lie to me?"
Kyren shook his head. "No. I did not lie to you. But your meeting with Magdalen took longer than you think, milady."
Althea heard boredom in his tone of voice now, as if he wished to be rid of her and her questions. She toyed with the idea of using the spell on him, but what if Magdalen withdrew her offer if Kyren came to harm?
"Be careful how you speak to me," she said instead, her voice cold. "I will tell Magdalen."
A sudden fury twisted Kyren's face into something ugly and misshapen. "Oh, do tell her. I care not! Humankind was not meant to use that spell, child. What she gifted to you--" He threw up his hands. "Do you even realize what she gave to you?"
Althea stamped her foot. "Then go! I can find my own way home!" They had returned to the human world already; the flowers had vanished as soon as they stepped across the Veil. "She gave me the means to achieve my dreams. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?" Her own mouth twisted, as if she had tasted a bitter lemon. "You know nothing! Leave me alone!"
Without another word, Kyren vanished into the trees. Althea waited for a moment to make sure he was well and truly gone, then slowly made her way back to Darkbrook.
On the edge of the forest that surrounded the school, she formed a portal out of a fraction of the elf's power and stepped through it into her own room.
Her study books were still open on the little desk, and she had not made her bed that morning. But it was both familiar and strange, as if she looked at it through someone else's eyes.
She sank down on her bed. The enormity of what she had done hit her like a blow. She had fashioned a portal without preparation--without a second thought--and used it. Portals weren't even covered in the books she had read. Evidently, the spell had transferred wisdom as well as power.
Would she then know everything Josiah knew when she used it on him?
She remembered her question: Do they have to die?
And Magdalen's answer: "Of course not. You can keep your nemesis alive indefinitely and feed from his power forever if you wish."
Draining all of Josiah's power away would eliminate him as a problem, but what would happen when his power ran out? She would have to find another victim, and then another, and another. Someone would eventually notice.
But if she kept him alive, she could use his power indefinitely. She would have to ensure that she kept him shackled with iron, or designed a spell that would prevent him from using his talents against her. The heartblood stone would ensure that he remain invisible from any searchers, but she would still have to make sure he vanished completely, without a single clue that could be traced back to her.
Althea lay down on her bed, her mind racing across the possibilities. How should she trap Josiah? Would he suspect her? She had never really spoken to him. Where could she hide him?
She had the thought that perhaps Magdalen would know of a place to hide him. Somewhere deep in the forest--a dungeon, perhaps--hidden from sight where no one would ever discover him.
Or perhaps she'd let Magdalen have him tortured.
She fell asleep then, as the sun rose, and missed her first three classes as the endless possibilities of the fruition of all her hopes and dreams danced through her head.
Next Update: April 20th
House St. Clair Home
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