Page 107 of Triumph at Pemberley

“In the center, then.” Rana Akshaya sounded cross. “To the same chamber as before.”

Had she considered she might be turning that beautifully decorated room in India into a permanent Gate? That was not Elizabeth’s problem, though. It was nerve-wracking enough to attempt to employ an unknown Artifact, even one that felt deep-down like it belonged to her.

And what would it mean if she succeeded? The goal was to create a Gate and push Napoleon through it. Her husband’s mind had been taken over in his brief meeting with Napoleon, and these dragons expected her to go into his presence and create a Gate there? Why would his soldiers even let her get that far? Was there even a chance she would survive the encounter?

She shivered. There was no point in considering that problem now. Instead, she removed her gloves and caressed the Artifact, letting its power tingle through her fingers and up her arms.

It felt somehow hungry, as if longing to do the job it was meant for. How many centuries had it been since Iorweth the Bold had last used it?

She sank her Talent into the earth. Deeper and deeper, beyond the bedrock, to the foundations. Somehow it looked different this time. Before the foundations had been fuzzy, with a sense of lines going off in all directions and distant pricks of light in the darkness. This time everything was clear, a vast spiderweb of power around her. Instead of floating, it felt as if she was standing on a golden rock. She could make out another one in the distance, with its own web branching out, and twinkling stars scattered all around.

It must be the Artifact. A surge of hope rose in her chest. This was working!

Would it make a difference with the Gate, too? She pictured the Nest in India. Not only the image Rana Akshaya had given her, but her own memory of the scent of sandalwood and spices and the humid, heavy air. What would the other side of it look like? She could smell it now, that bit of India, but it was as if a curtain had been drawn over her eyes and everything was cloudy. The Artifact seemed to tug at her, making her step blindly forward as if towards a magnet.

Suddenly a powerful grip yanked her backwards, making her stumble. “Stop!” Cerridwen shouted frantically, both aloud and in Elizabeth’s mind.

Her shoulder stung. What had gone wrong? She was still breathing, so clearly she had not destroyed everything. She shook her head vigorously to clear her vision. Then she saw it, a ring of sparkling light standing alone before her, brighter and more dense than it had ever been before. “Did it work?” she whispered.

“Something is there,” Rana Akshaya said. “We will see if it lasts this time.”

Elizabeth rubbed her sore shoulder, and her hand came away wet with blood. She could not see the wound, though, even when she craned her neck. “What happened to me?”

“That is my fault,” Cerridwen said miserably. “I was too rough when I pulled you back, and my talon scraped you. I will heal it for you, but what were you thinking? You were about to step through the Gate. It would have killed you!”

“I was? I did not mean to. The Artifact was pulling me forward, and I could not see where I was going.” She shivered. If she had succeeded, the Gate would have burnt her body to ashes. No one could go through a Gate twice and live.

“Cerridwen, no,” Rana Akshaya commanded as the younger dragon held out her foreleg towards the wound to heal it. “Do not touch her, and cleanse your talon instantly. We cannot risk a bonding fever if your blood combines.”

Elizabeth nodded fervently. She had nearly died the last time that happened. “I can heal it myself.”

Rana Akshaya held up her claws to stop her. “Not yet. Is the Gate supposed to do that?”

Oh, dear. One side of the ring was collapsing in. “Wobble? No, it should be steady.” Another failure, even with the Artifact. She should not have allowed herself to hope for more.

“Try smearing a bit of your blood in front of it. Perhaps that might stabilize it.”

It was worth a try. Could she trust her feet, though? They had almost led her to her death. She would rather be undignified than risk that again, so she crawled forward and dabbed her wet fingertips on the mosaic floor an inch from the Gate.

The Gate brightened and solidified, forming a perfect circle again.

Elizabeth caught her breath. Had she truly done it, despite having to guess how the Artifact worked?

It kept growing brighter. Then, suddenly, it shattered into thousands of specks of light. They fell to the floor and extinguished.

“First too weak, but adding your blood made it too strong. We must find the balance. Try again, this time casting it over the same spot.”

“Wait.” Cerridwen’s aura was troubled. “What were you thinking when you opened the Gate?”

Elizabeth considered. “I was thinking about the chamber in India, the aromas and the humidity of the air, and wishing I could see the rest of it, not just one wall.”

“Did you want to go there?”

“I wished I could.”

Cerridwen settled back on her haunches. “The Artifact must respond to your desires. This time, focus on wanting to remain exactly where you are, and instead try to open the door to invite someone else to come through. Perhaps that will help. If only I knew more about Gate-keeping!”

Elizabeth exclaimed, “This would be so much easier if I could talk to the dragons who operate the Gates! Even if they cannot create them now, they must know something.”