It had since been reduced to the longest of droughts.
—The seasons witch remains with Philip?—
—She took part in the battle for the boy, Cormac—
Donato sped them up toward Snowdon until a wall of gray prevented their view.
—This is where the boy was taken?—
—Or where they will be soon. The Carn Cavall is a large range, and the Nharth of the forest hide much from me with their magic. Philip as well, no doubt. All I know is the boy came this way and there are no other refuges for them to find solace—
Cormac pondered this.
On foot, it was a start for an experienced tracker.
—Show me Caer Llion—
The mountains vanished. The same sickening feeling overwhelmed Cormac as they moved southward at excessive speeds. The view slowly solidified into the massive battlements, towers and walls of a large castle lording over a town grown up around its foundations. Smoke rose from hundreds of chimneys until the steady breeze carried it away, the town an anthill of activity and expanding life. Beyond and to the south, the expanse of the ocean rolled into white cliffs where a variety of sea birds kited in the wind to dive for food.
The kingdom Philip had forged seemed oblivious to the boot heel of the tyrant. As long as the men and women embraced Philip, they were safe from persecution.
The Tuatha de Dannan could not make that statement. They fought the son of Henry II and had become the hunted.
—Caer Llion, Cormac—
—Go in closer—
—We will not be allowed—
Donato pushed forward anyway. Just when Cormac could make out significant details inside the open-air windows of the castle, a black mist swallowed his vision and grew thick like molasses, repelling the two men. Dizziness rolled over Cormac in waves, the need to retch food not in his stomach strong and urgent.
Donato pulled their vantage back quickly.
The feeling of being torn from the inside subsided to a dull ache.
—I forgot what that is like, Donato. Philip is there?—
—Most likely. He rarely leaves—
—What about his right hand?—
—John Lewis Hugo leaves often. Battles. Political intrigue. Pure sin—
Just as Cormac was about to ask after Philip’s advisor, a spear entered his mind, shredding coherant thought.
He wanted to scream. Malignant darkness cut into the thoughts of the Cardinal Vicar while encircling his throat with thick-roped malice. The Cardinal tossed up what strength he had but could not stop it, his mind choked by an unseen force. The migraine grew as if someone poured flaming gasoline on it. Never had the mirror inflicted this kind of pain in the past. His mind being torn apart, Cormac could feel Donato struggling too. He realized they were being attacked, an unfamiliar mind strangling both Cardinals, the glee from their assailant thick and repugnant. It was an evil Cormac had never encountered before, crushing in its wickedness, reveling in its power to destroy the men it had ensnared.
Donato!
Cormac tried to scream. Nothing happened.
Then the pain vanished, the noose pried loose by Donato with warm feelings of love born of family for Cormac. Years of using the mirror giving him a small advantage, the Cardinal Seer gave his once-student a mental shove away from the evil entity toward their world—away from the harm that accosted them.
Cormac tumbled free of the mirror.
Time slowed, darkness absolute.
When he became aware again, Cormac panted real air, trying to regain control over his muscles. He pushed his body up off of the cold stone of the floor and, opening his eyes, looked to Donato.
Fear twisting his features, Ennio crouched over the Seer.
Donato did not breathe.
Cormac fought his weakness and crawled to the side of Donato. His irises, which had been white in life, were obsidian orbs staring at the ceiling, the leathery skin of his face shrunken against gaunt cheeks. Nothing stirred about the man—no rise and fall of his bony chest, no movement in his limbs.
The Cardinal Seer was dead.
Cormac held the empty shell of Donato Javier Ramirez. Tears swept away his vision. He choked back the urge to scream. Something in Annwn had done this. As a last gift, the Cardinal Seer spent the last of his life to throw Cormac out of the mirror and away from harm, embracing his own death so Cormac may live.
Dark emotions rolled through Cormac and two certainties shook him.
The Vatican was now blind to what transpired in Annwn. And Cormac had lost his longest and oldest friend.
“What happened?” Ennio mewed.
“You will do this thing I ask of you, Ennio,” Cormac