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Oliver. He had to find Oliver.
Valgrind kept purring, breathing welcome, cool breath over Náli’s sweaty face, and the waters of the well didn’t seem so deep anymore. So miring. With something alive touching him, it was easier to reach out through the vast spaces of the veil and search for something else alive.
In the gray swirls of mist, past shadows that could have been trees or reaching, claw-like hands, he finally spotted Oliver: a bright, pulsing heart wreathed in blue. And beside him, Tessa.
Náli latched on tight to both of them; in the physical realm, he was distantly aware of both of them gasping in surprise.
The torq between them was hot to the touch, Ragnar’s hair a burning golden thread. The cut on his palm sizzled.
Ready?
Yes.
He took a deep breath, leaned against Valgrind, and drew every last scrap of magic from deep in his bones. Then, he channeled it.
Their shared intent, their will, carried him somewhere beyond the veil, someplace he’d never ventured before. Everything was the scent of wolf pelt, and the sound of snarling, and a wish made manifest. Bind, bind, bind. Only love, only real love can ever release him.
Náli felt the moment the enchantment took hold. It slammed through him with the force of a hammer blow; washed his mind clean, and gold, and blessedly empty.
He cracked his eyes open in time to see that Oliver and Tessa’s eyes were glowing blue, just as he knew his own must be.
Valgrind let out an alarmed cry.
Náli grinned, and then the weight of the diamond around his neck dragged him over.
He was unconscious before he hit the ground.
~*~
During his fevers and early dragon hallucinations, Oliver had thought the pull of magic strong. Even after poring over books all yesterday with Náli, he hadn’t been prepared for the pull of that other plane; the place Náli had called “the veil.” He’d known the blue, crystal caverns of Percy’s bond with him, but this had been a black, twisted forest layered with impenetrable fog. Within it, Náli had walked toward them, naked, crowned with bones, his eyes glowing, blood glistening crimson on his hand, the brightest part of him.
The magic had felt like nothing he’d ever experienced: like lightning cracking through him. He swore he’d seen his own bones, glowing golden. But when he landed, gasping, back in his own body, conscious but dizzy, he’d known that they’d succeeded. He could feel the magic in the torq, humming like touching a beehive.
He opened his eyes, his hand and arm numb, his lips buzzing. He felt as though he’d been shaken, like a fine bottle of bubbly in Drakewell, before the cork was struck off with the flat of a knife.
“Gods,” he murmured, blinking his spotty vision clear again.
Beside him, Tessa said, “Oh, that was – oh.”
“Yeah.”
Then he realized that the two of them still held the torq, and that Náli lay sideways in the snow, eyes shut.
“Oh no.”
Valgrind stood over him, bleating his distress, nudging gently at his shoulder and lapping at his face with a cold, blue tongue.
Oliver wanted to move toward him, but was too slow and sluggish. Strong hands caught his waist – Erik’s, he’d know them anywhere – and he heard Rune murmuring worriedly over Tessa.
Náli’s Guard captain slash hopeful lover rushed forward and went on his knees in the snow beside his master. His expression – out of place on his usually strong, stern countenance – was so anguished and loving that Oliver felt like an interloper, too tired and weak to do more than lean back against his own lover and watch.
“My lord? My lord.” Mattias touched him with careful reverence, hauling him up to lie across his lap. Valgrind lingered, making distressing noises, and Mattias, to Oliver’s surprise, spared a hand to pat the drake’s nose, before he angled Náli’s face up toward his own, thumbing tenderly at his cheek – which looked bruised and sunken. “Náli?” he whispered. “My lord?”
His fingertips glided over sharp cheeks, and his visage was anguished, terrified…devoted.
Oliver wet his lips with a dry tongue. “He said this would happen,” he croaked. “That it would be the last thing he did.”
Mattias nodded, but didn’t look at him. Instead bundled his master close, and stood, lifting him in his arms.
