“Has everyone lost their minds?” Jack complained, but he stepped up onto the fireback – and froze. He touched his tongue to his upper lip and bounced from one foot to the other. Then he turned to Darcy. “What is this? How does it work?”
He had been right, then – although he wished he were not. This was a complication they did not need. “The iron blocks magical power from reaching you. I think something here was affecting you.”
Jack frowned. “Something… or someone? A mage?”
He could see where Jack’s thoughts were going. “Not a mage. Iron blocks land Talent. If your afterbirth was buried here, there may be some connection.”
“Can you get me away from here? I cannot spend the rest of my life standing on a piece of iron!”
“But you feel better?”
“Physically, yes – apart from the minor problem of being a royal bastard and learning that I have been lied to my entire life,” he said bitterly.
“That part I cannot fix,” Darcy said. “But the land issue – all I can guess is that it is an incomplete bond. When my land Talent was growing active, I felt the need to visit the spot where my birth rites were performed. It waslike a nagging itch in my skin, a strange restlessness calling me there. I can only guess that the land here is seeking you out in the same way.” Though his discomfort had never been this powerful, nor had it extended for many miles, but it was the only idea he had. “Perhaps if we, so to speak, perform an introduction…”
“Then it would leave me alone!” Jack said. “Worth a try, I suppose, and better than feeling like I am on a ship in a storm.”
Chapter 26
“Iwaswrong,”Jackmutteredas they crossed the churchyard. “Idowant to stand on that fireback for the rest of my life.”
It had taken a painfully long time for Darcy to get him there, even though it was just outside the room where they had met the king. Windsor was a palace, after all, with footmen and guards everywhere, each one wanting to check that these unknown guests were permitted to go where they wished. Twice they had insisted on sending word to their superiors before allowing them to proceed. Jack had stumbled several times, which had not helped their credibility. Now, finally, they were making their way towards St. George's Chapel.
Gentiane flew overhead, to Darcy's relief. Not that Jack's dragon was likely to be able to help, but who knew when a powerful magical ally might come in handy?
Jack slowed as if his feet were growing too heavy to lift. “What is wrong with this place? Can you not feel it?”
“I can sense a sort of power,” Darcy said. He could not touch it, but this land was hallowed with the blood of centuries of mage kings and queens. And it was not happy.
Jack looked increasingly grim in the flickering lantern light. “Here?” he growled.
“Your guess is better than mine. I would say wherever the discomfort is the worst.” How he hated watching Jack’s pain!
“Oh, good.” With his hands clenched into fists, Jack prowled over the grass, finally stopping a few feet from the massive stone chapel. “This is horrid,” he gasped. “What should I do?”
“Take off your glove and put your hand on the ground. Tell it you are here.”
“How do I do that?” But he followed Darcy’s instructions. “Damn, it burns!”
“Stay with it if you can. Imagine you are reaching down into the ground, through the roots of the grass.” If only he knew what he was doing! He hated operating on instinct.
“You are moon mad,” Jack grunted. But even as he said it, some of the roiling power seemed to calm a little.
“Any difference?”
“Better, perhaps, but… still bad.”
What else could work? He knew what Elizabeth would say, but it went against so much that he believed. It was all he had to offer, though. He drew out the small knife in his pocket and handed it to Jack. “Can you draw a few drops of blood and let it fall in the soil?”
Jack turned his ashen face up. “Blood magic? Will, I am shocked.” At least his sense of humor was back.
“Elizabeth will never let me live this down.”
With a snort, Jack dug the tip of the knife into the flesh at the base of his hand and then held it out. First one drop of blood, and then several more over the next minute. “Nothing,” he said, pulling out a handkerchief and pressing it to the cut. “What next?” His speech sounded oddly slow.
Darcy was out of ideas, but he had to do something to help him. “Wait a little. Give it time.”
“Can’t. Too… too heavy.” Then Jack toppled forward until he was on his hands and knees, his head sagging.
