Faerie Magic (28 page)

“Where—”

“Here.” Vance pushed open a side gate, which led to a fenced off area outside the manor. “I had to lock him away. Do you have the cure?”

I handed it to him, then stood to the side while he unlocked a small wooden shed. A flurry of movement, and someone slammed into Vance. The Mage Lord barely moved an inch, grabbing his attacker by the arm. Seconds later, he’d forced the half-faerie’s mouth open and tipped the cure into it. The Chief slumped to the ground.

I blinked. “Wait. Did you test the cure on another half-faerie first?”

“On a piskie,” said Vance, stepping back from the shed.

“What if it doesn’t—?”

Another burst of movement, and the half-faerie launched to his feet, grappling at Vance.

“Let
go
of me,” snarled the man. His face was stained with dirt and blood, his shoulder-length dark hair tangled, but his pale green eyes were as arresting as any Sidhe’s. “I’m the Chief of the fey-kind, and you locked me up like a criminal—”

“You were unconscious,” said Vance. “Our headquarters is warded in iron, and I considered you’d rather not get trampled in the riot currently occurring on your territory.”

The Chief jerked his arm out of Vance’s grasp. “You’re the Mage Lord. What in the name of the Sidhe did you do with my weapons?”

“Calder took them,” I interjected. “Vance saved your life, dickhead. Anyway, we need your help.”

“Let me pass,” he snarled.

“You’ll get eaten alive,” I said. “The whole town’s trapped in a circle of energy generated by a drug Calder used.”

“I’m aware,” said the Chief, magic flaring around him in green tendrils. Summer magic. “He told me about it in detail.”

“Like I said, I saved your neck,” said Vance. “Calder’s magic is out of control. He’s generating too much power, and even killing him won’t dispel it. We need to seal his magic away.”

The Chief’s mouth half-fell open. “You want me to use an Invocation.”

Huh?
I looked at Vance, uncomprehending.

“Temporarily,” said Vance. “You know the terms of the contract: they still stand.”

The Chief’s jaw tightened. “Fine.”

“I’m missing something here,” I said.

Vance turned to me. “To seal a Sidhe’s magic, we need to use an Invocation of power. Speaking the words temporarily resets all magic in the surrounding area. For us, that means all magic inside the circle—or the town.”

“Really?” Damn. How had I never heard of it before? Sure would have come in handy last time shit hit the fan.

“Unfortunately,” the Chief interjected, “the Invocation was sealed, along with all the others. It’s too dangerous a spell to allow, especially to half-Sidhe who don’t know its full potential. The Mage Lords—” He shot an angry look at Vance—“took away the Invocations when they gave us our territory. Only those of us aware of our half-Sidhe heritage knew.”

“What? Vance, is that true?”

“The world was in a state of devastation,” said Vance. “We granted mercy to the half-faeries caught up in the struggle, as they didn’t instigate the invasion. As one of our terms for peace, we sealed all the Invocations so the offspring of Sidhe lords would no longer be able to potentially spark another war between our races.”

“So most of the half-faeries don’t know?”

“Most do not have the ability to command an Invocation,” said the Chief. “I, however, do. My father is Lord Daival, assistant to the Queen of Seelie Territory.”

“Uh… okay.” I wrapped my head around this new information. “If the Invocation’s sealed, how are we meant to undo
that
seal?”

“I’ll do it myself,” said Vance. “Only a Mage Lord can undo it. The Invocation is inside our magical depository. Not the manor—that has too many wards to keep faeries out.”

“So basically… you hid it in a place faeries can easily get into? And we have to go there now, with this guy—” I jerked my thumb at the Chief—“who has no weapons, so you can unlock a potentially devastating spell. That can’t go wrong at all.”

The Chief narrowed his eyes at me. “Do not presume to know our ways, human. I want a weapon.”

“Feel free to pick one of mine,” said Vance. “I should warn you, they’re all forged in iron.”

Whoa. These two did
not
like one another. Then again, the Chief had refused to listen to reason, and was at least partly responsible for this shitstorm. If he’d tried to stop Calder or at least paid attention when Vance had told him about the Trials, we might not be in such a dire situation.

“Enough,” I cut in. “You have magic, isn’t that enough?”

The Chief gave me a furious look. “Who in the Sidhes’ name are you?”

“Ivy Lane,” I said. “You might recognise the name. I saved all your people from the Grey Vale, and they repaid me by trying to kill me. Several times. We’ll go and get your Invocation, and when Calder’s magic is sealed, I’m going to kill him myself.”

The Chief stared at me until Vance cleared his throat. “The streets are dangerous. We’ll travel my way.”

I knew what was coming. The Chief didn’t. Vance transported both of us at once, landing at the side of another road. The Chief spun to face Vance, his face twisted in a snarl. “You—don’t you touch me.”

“Save it for later,” I said. “Where’s this magical depository?”

“Here.” Vance indicated a squat abandoned-looking building at the roadside.

“You keep important spells hidden in here? Without wards?”

“Without iron,” said Vance. “The place
is
warded against evil intent.”

“Good.”

A snarl sounded from the shadows, and an arm reached out and pulled me into the air. I left the ground with a startled yell as the shadows came to life, a sea of glittering eyes blinking at me. From my upside-down vantage point, I saw monsters crawling out of the gaps between the run-down buildings, all of which looked equally abandoned. We were on the boundary with half-blood territory, right at the town’s far side, and every faerie loose in the area had come out to play.

“Hey!” I grabbed for my sword, fingers slipping on the handle. Vance and the Chief were boxed in by shadowy faeries. None of the creatures appeared to have a distinct form—they were tangles of limbs with claws and sharp teeth. The Grey Vale’s death stealers. I’d met them before. They’d
love
it if Calder succeeded in opening the veil.

My sword bit into shadowy flesh and I flipped, landing on my feet. Vance made a snarling noise, his blade flashing, but kept missing.
Dammit. He doesn’t have the Sight.

The Chief, however, did. Green threads of magic wrapped around his hands, glyphs appeared, and with a shout of an unpronounceable word, he sent the shadow-faeries scurrying out of sight.

“Neat trick,” I said.

“What the devil was that?” said Vance.

“Abominations,” spat the Chief. “Vile creatures that were exiled from Faerie, and with good reason.”

I stood behind Vance as he unlocked the wards on the building’s door.

“You’re positive it’s warded on the inside, right?” I asked.

A sharp nod, then the door opened.

We walked into a dingy hallway. Vance waved a hand and torches ignited on the walls. The building was laid out like an underground passageway with stone walls and doors branching off, all covered in shimmering wards.

A horrible smell pervaded—rot, combined with decaying magic. Bile rose in my throat. I wanted to ask if faeries had died in here, but no normal human would be able to smell dead magic, and the Chief half-faerie stood right beside me. I wasn’t in the mood to explain my Sight
or
my faerie magic.

Vance stopped outside a heavy-looking wooden door and held up his hands. A shimmering curtain appeared, then parted. He pressed his palms to the wood and the door creaked inwards.

Gold light spilled out onto the corridor. Inside the room lay several glass cases, side by side. Vance made for the one opposite the door, which contained three very ancient-looking pieces of yellowing parchment. I watched him undo the wards around it, my heart thumping. This room vibrated with power, thick tension layering the air. Coldness seemed to radiate from the walls, driving every vestige of warmth from my body. A faint humming noise pervaded, and seemed to be coming from both underneath our feet and within the very air. Like the room itself had a heartbeat.

Vance lifted the front of the cabinet, and a fresh blast of power lifted every hair on my body. I shook all over, every muscle locking like I’d been hit by a fear spell. My hands trembled, and a primal part of me wanted to turn my back and run like hell. Even more so when Vance turned to face me. I practically expected lightning to crackle over his head and a storm to unleash its fury on all of us.

“We can’t cast the spell in here,” said Vance. Even his voice seemed louder, amplified in the small room. “There are too many bindings. You’ll need to go outside.”

I glanced sideways at the Chief, who actually looked frightened of the Mage Lord. Vance didn’t seem to notice, and replaced the wards on the cabinet like he picked up dangerous artefacts every day. The parchment appeared so old, it was a wonder it didn’t fall apart in his hands.

Outside the room, the raging power calmed somewhat. I shivered as the chill receded from my skin.

The Chief of the half-faeries muttered under his breath about “blasted mage magic.” Hmm. So he was affected by the power surge, too.

“Something’s wrong here,” said Vance, pausing beside the door.

“Huh?” I faced him, watching the wards ripple back into place. “Nobody else has been here, have they?”
Not Calder.

“Few people know this place exists,” said Vance. “Aside from the mages…” He trailed off, a blade appearing in his hands.

As the hum of power died down, I heard the faint shuffling noises behind one of the other doors. I grabbed my sword, wishing my hands would stop shaking.

The door burst open, and three men burst through. At least they
were
men… a while ago. As opposed to decaying bodies in smart suits, advancing on us with their rotting arms outstretched.

Fantastic. Undead.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Vance swore, sending the undead reeling with a blast of cold air. His blade flashed, decapitating one of them, and the door to our right burst open in a flurry of dust. Six more undead appeared. Great—a party.

Pale grey hands swiped at me, hanging off their wrists and held together by skin and sinew. I swung my blade, cutting through several arms, but they kept shuffling forwards. An arm locked around my neck. The undead’s grip was surprisingly strong, immediately cutting off my oxygen supply. I stabbed wildly, eyes watering at the stench, and stomped backwards onto the undead’s foot. The move had no effect. Undead couldn’t feel pain.

Instead, I kicked at its leg with my other foot. Bone gave way, and its collapse forced its grip to loosen. I forced its arm away, more or less tearing it off with my hands. Fighting not to gag, I threw the stringy remains to the side.

“How can higher undead be here?” I gasped, massaging my neck.

In answer, Vance displaced the undead’s discarded arm before it locked around my ankle. The twitching remains of several others lay on the carpeted floor. The Chief hovered behind the Mage Lord, visibly trembling.

Wait. He was scared—really scared of the undead. Being half-blood, he was probably as terrified of death as all the others I’d met. Admittedly, the half-decaying corpses didn’t give the best impression of what awaited mortals after death.

“Who brought them back? A necromancer?”

Vance shook his head. His jaw was tense with anger. “They rose of their own accord. The veil is thinning.”

Shit. We needed to get out of here. Kicking bits of zombie aside, I ran down the hall, Vance close behind.

The door already lay open, and undead surrounded the house.

I took one step back. “Please tell me there’s another door.”

Like my words were a signal, they swarmed us. I grabbed a container of salt from my pocket with my free hand—for all the good it’d do against this many dead. One reached out with grasping fingers and I threw a handful of salt in his face, stabbing him in the eye with my blade.

Vance moved in, sending such a wave of power through the air that my step faltered along with the undead. The air rippled, knocking some of them falling into others. Vance moved down from the doorstep, continuing to direct the flow of air to clear a path across the overgrown garden.
Damn.
I’d have stared if not for the undead baring their rotting teeth at me. The level of control he had over his ability was intense.

Didn’t stop the undead, though. I cut the heads off two of them, throwing salt at the others until they tripped out of the way, hissing as their decaying skin burned. These were in even worse shape than the others, clothes rotted to rags, rib cages gaping open. There must be at least twenty, but Vance calmly sent them toppling like skittles. The Chief remained on the doorstep, hiding. Coward. This was the guy who was meant to save us all from Calder?