AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Maerose was deeply afraid. She couldn't help it. The last of the skeletal trees were left behind. They stood on a vast, barren plain. In front of them the ground rose up as if it were a hummock. When the trees had thinned out, the wind that had risen grew constant, turned warm. The spot they were headed for glowed, red light marking the place.
The sound of battle cries echoed around them. Beneath their feet the earth pounded, making their footsteps unsteady. The notion of turning back no longer offered solace—behind them was a loosed demon, not to mention Veldor and his men.
"This is it,” Bron said, leading her forward.
"Here?"
As they stepped toward the hummock, the earth shook mightily and she gripped his arm. He led her on, until she saw beyond the edge. The ground funneled down, strangely tiered as if it were steps climbing down into the underworld. At its deepest point, flames stirred, leaping the sides of the pit like so many tongues.
"This is the spire, the gateway.” He had to raise his voice, for the noise was rising all around them. “Its form in death is an opposite, reaching for its heart in darkness."
She tried to listen, but the sound of battle cries grew louder and she shivered bodily.
He took off her cloak and dropped it to the ground, then stationed her so that the dark hole was behind her. “Are you ready to weave your magic, daughter of Beltane?"
"Now?” Her voice trembled. “Here?” Through the unease that arrested her, she felt him centering his very soul on her, soothing her pain.
Regret and love poured out of him. “Don't worry,” he said moving closer, staring into her eyes. “We may only seem to be two hearts, but in truth we are many. All the elders at Western Tor are channeling their power through us. I will make our mark upon this ground and the demon hordes will not be able to step within the circle, for we will be protected by elder magic."
She nodded, but put her hands over her ears, closing off the hideous noises rising around them.
He drew her in against him. “I love you, Maerose. We just need to open our hearts and show that, we need to rise above what is wrong, and do what is right. Trust in the power of our physical and spiritual love, and its rightness, let it weave its magic here."
He bent over her protectively, smoothing her hair, closing her eyes with a kiss upon each lid.
Gratefully, she welcomed the love he gave her. His mouth teased against hers, gently, lovingly, seductively, as if they were back in his home, by the fire, exploring one another again. Not here, not in the...
He eased back, his eyes searching hers. Don't think about it.
She heard the words in her mind, but he had not moved his lips.
He nodded. Think of home, those you love. He pushed images of her family into her mind.
She saw Russet making corn dollies. She let him kiss her again. “She would fashion a staff for you,” she whispered, sharing the image with him. Looking up at him, she froze again when a gray form moved around them, a death-like mist climbing into the night. Its rankness swept in, lashing them together. Her innards shook with fear.
Beyond the moving forms, she saw balls of flaming earth fly, and land, as if they had been propelled from the gateway to the fiery underworld, behind her. All around them, the place was lighting up, from the flames at the heart of the true spire. As the light grew, the more she could see, and it was not a happy sight. The mist grew heavy and there were ghostly figures bound within it, men. Men, forming out of the mists, marching as one. Like insects swarming out of the pit—heavy with armor and shields, their boots putrid with rotting flesh, their weapons raised. They were becoming real once more.
Glancing back, she saw a demon rise up behind her, his dark wings opening amidst a shower of flame. “Bron,” she cried.
"Don't move,” Bron said, and stepped away. In the dirt, he drew a large circle around them with the staff, marking its interior with symbols, quickly moving around the place where she stood. She felt the brush of ghosts at her back and held her breath. Bron reached out his arms; drawing the staff overhead and as far as the outer edges of the circle he'd drawn. The figures at her back moved away, slinking further from the circle he'd created.
She breathed again, and watched as the stone on the staff burned bright as he criss-crossed the space. The atmosphere around them formed a halo of soft light. The demon hovered back and forth above, but seemed unable to move closer. She sensed it was as Bron said, that they were safe inside the circle. Her heart still beat erratically and she reached out her hands for Bron.
He rested the staff on the ground inside the circle and then took her hands. “Lie here; you will be protected from the creatures of the underworld within this circle, whatever happens. No one but an elder can step within this circle now."
"What of Veldor?” she whispered, anxiously.
He shook his head. “He has met his fate."
"Are you sure?"
He glanced over his shoulder, ignoring her question. “We must hurry."
&n
bsp; She sensed his haste, knew it to be real, for beyond him the ghost like figures were moving in number now. The legendary demon hordes, the men from the north and the east, were marching all around them. Overhead, the demon watched their progress. They were on their way to Edren, to finish what they had begun one hundred years before. Anger and resolve swelled inside her.
She lay on the ground; it thudded at her back, hot and shifting. “Bron,” she pleaded.
