How could I break his magic when the more I drew on the ley lines, the less I had?
The Goddess, I thought, fear and excitement a thick slurry of hope. If I couldn’t tap a line, I’d get my power right from the source.
“Ta na shay,” I whispered, afraid she’d hear me, afraid she wouldn’t, and with a trill of wild magic, a trickle of power seeped in, scintillating and untainted. The mystics were never far from me, the Goddess’s eyes always looking even if they didn’t recognize me anymore.
Weast spun, one hand on his zombie curse, the other on his amulet, as he tried to dampen my hold on the line. But I wasn’t getting my power from the line. I was getting it from the Goddess, and I tucked my static-filled hair behind my ear. Her mystics didn’t recognize me. I was safe. I sent a silent thank-you to Hodin, then cursed him for leaving me here alone.
My eyes narrowed on Weast. He was gripping that amulet as if it were a life preserver. It had to go. “Ta na shay,” I said louder this time, and the Goddess’s laughter chimed in my soul, scaring me as more power flowed, unchecked and building. How dare a singular think he can stop my mystics? flooded my thoughts, scaring the crap out of me.
Ta na shay! I cried into my mind. See me, hear me. Lend me your skill. I took a breath. “Sisto activitatem!” I shouted, and with a finger snap, I flung Weast’s spell back at him.
Weast cried out as the silver medallion broke in a flash of light, then ripped the line-dampening amulet from him and threw it. It slid to the waste drum, and with a whoosh, silver flames rose to lick the ceiling.
Ticked, I rose to my full height, my hair a static halo from the Goddess’s mystics. Weast’s hold on the lines was broken, and Trent cried out in satisfaction as power flooded into him. Hair wild and eyes alight, he pushed the agents back, power dripping from his fingers as he howled in exuberance. My smile faded. I had to wake him up to give him even a chance to kick the baku out.
“Ta na shay, non sic dormit, sed vigilat!” I shouted, hand extended as I funneled a massive amount of raw energy through me, scintillating as it took on my aura’s hue along with my intent. It was the elven wake-up spell Trisk had written in the margins of her journal, and it exploded from my hand in a visible wave. It would either wake him up or kill him.
It hit them all, tumbling the Order and Trent alike along the floor, slamming them into the walls, where they groaned and lay still. The lights went out, and the flames in the waste drum hesitated before coming back all the brighter to light the sanctuary in a harsh glow tainted by new smoke. My ears were numb, but my heart leapt as Trent groaned, holding his head as he sat up. He was awake, and I gasped as I felt the lines redouble in me. Hodin’s curse was working.
The baku was a smutty haze rising up from Trent, and I threw out my hand. “Rhombus!”
My circle snapped around it, heavy and thick. The baku recoiled, its black shadow railing against its new prison. I could feel it through the energy I’d bound it with, tainting me with its emptiness as I ran to Trent, scared as I pulled him up to sit against the wall.
“Trent? Trent!” I demanded as Weast and his men began to stir, then gave him a little jolt of raw ley line energy.
He jumped, his hand going to his head as his eyes opened. “Did we get it?” he said, and relief flooded me at the hopeful expression in his eyes. It was him.
“Not yet,” I said, but my hope that Trent might be able to help me bottle the baku faltered. I couldn’t do this alone.
Or can I? I thought, imagining a sly laugh lifting through my memory. I looked at my hands, quailing at the faint pure glow playing about them like water where they touched Trent.
I have an idea. My eyes went to the trapped baku as I let go of Trent and backed up. “Stay here,” I said softly. “I might have knocked you too hard, and I want to try something.”
Trent’s head snapped up. “Ah, Rachel?” he warned, but I had already