Page 108 of Triumph at Pemberley

Cerridwen shifted from foot to foot, her aura uneasy. “The Dark Peak dragons may be suspicious if I question them. I will ask Sycamore. He may know.”

Rana Akshaya said, “Interesting. These changes in the foundations are different, more structured than your earlier attempts or the faerie rings.”

Confused, Elizabeth asked, “Faerie rings? What have they to do with the Gates?”

“Have you not sensed them? The points of bright light in the vast web of the foundations?”

Elizabeth’s jaw dropped. “Those stars are faerie rings?”

“Yes, or rather their reflections. The foundations underlie both mortal world and Faerie. Your dragons were not the first to think of opening doors. Now try again, Companion Elizabeth, unless you are too fatigued.”

“I can do it.” For some reason, using the Artifact had barely touched her store of Talent, unlike when she had tried to cast Gates before. That must be a good sign.

She sank her consciousness into the Artifact. Opening her eyes, she studied the spot of her blood on the ground, letting her awareness of it go straight down to the foundations. The image of the Indian chamber filled her mind, and she channeled welcoming thoughts to it. Come to us. Join with us. Let there be a connection between us. Come. Come. Come.

Energy and sparks burst forward from the Artifact, powerful enough to make Elizabeth stagger. Then the flickers of light flowed into a sphere larger than she was, right over the blood stain.

A great reverberation seemed to go through her, as if from a giant bell tolling. It was like when she had helped to set the wards at Pemberley. The sparks consolidated into a single upright circle, bright and stable. If her earlier Gates had been a thin cloud of sparks, this was a thick fog of them.

“You did it,” Cerridwen breathed. “That feels just like the Gate in the Nest.”

Was it possible? Had she truly created a Gate halfway across the world, one that could last for centuries like the original Gates?

Rana Akshaya’s usually restrained aura oozed satisfaction. “I will write another letter to put through.”

“Wait,” Cerridwen said. “Assuming it stays in place, first we must tell the Eldest of the Dark Peak what we have done. This may have affected their Gate, if it connects to all the others.”

Displeasure radiated from Rana Akshaya, but apparently she could not argue with Cerridwen’s point. As she turned to go, a ball flew through the Gate and landed by Elizabeth’s feet. No, not a ball, more like an oval, part green, part pink. The skin gave as she touched it lightly, but there was no sense of power coming from it. It looked more like a strange fruit than anything else.

She held it out to Rana Akshaya. “Do you know what this is?”

“Have you never seen a mango?” The dragon from India sounded disgusted by her ignorance.

Elizabeth laughed. “Never. They do not grow here.”

Rana Akshaya studied it. “It is a good sign they sent this through. They might doubt whether this is the same as the other Gates we tried, so they put something of no value through to see what happened. At least we know they are aware of it, and it is likely where we intended it to be.”

“Or somewhere else that mangos grow,” Elizabeth said irrepressibly. She had opened a Gate! She had a small piece of India in her hand! This was not the giddiness of magical exhaustion, but sheer triumph – and hope. Perhaps they would not have to leave Pemberley after all, if she could end the invasion by opening the Gate in Cerridwen’s vision.

Then the reality of it struck her like a bucket of ice water. It was impossible. She shook her head slowly. “It still will not work.”

“What do you mean?” Cerridwen asked.

“Napoleon is closely guarded. How could I get close enough to make a Gate and push him through it, while holding an Artifact and smearing my blood on the floor? I would be dragged off before I had begun. It would be risking my life with no possibility of success.”

“No.” Cerridwen sounded puzzled. “I foresaw you opening the Gate from this end, by the Dragon Stones.”

Oh, if only that could be! “But I need a detailed vision of the destination before I can open it. How could I know exactly where Napoleon is? He could be anywhere! If I am with him, I can picture the Dragon Stones, but not the other way around.”

Her dragon responded grudgingly, “I suppose that makes sense, but—” Then she made a harsh screaming noise and collapsed to the ground, burying her head beneath her forelegs. A wave of agony pulsed through her aura, of hopelessness and unending misery. The horrible scraping sound turned to a keening. It had to be a foresight, but she had never seen Cerridwen so distraught by one before. The pain of it echoed through their bond, grief and despair tearing at her.

Elizabeth threw herself by her anguished dragon and wrapped her arms around as much of her as she could. “Cerridwen dear! It is only a vision, not reality. I am with you, and so is Rana Akshaya.”

You must not go to Napoleon. Never be close enough for him to touch you. Never. Cerridwen’s sending was shaky.

“Or the disaster will come?” Elizabeth asked.

“Worse. So much worse. If he gains power over the Gate-opener, the world is doomed. Nothing will be out of his reach. China, Japan, India. And…”