C. E. Murphy - Wayfinder

“I thought that was a spell!”

“Your failure to understand doesn’t change its inherent qualities.” Aerin curled her arms around Dafydd, suddenly seeming more solid than ever before, as if becoming part of the earth in a way Seelie—and even humans—generally were not.

Lara’s power had objected to the worldwalking spell, to the wrongness of tearing through time and space. But of the magics possessed by the Seelie, only the glamours had been disruptive to her magic. Nothing else had a component that lied to the eyes; as Aerin said, the gifts they possessed were no more striking to a people born of magic than the ability to breathe.

And to her astonishment, the truth of that rose up as Aerin gathered Dafydd close. Song washed out from the Seelie woman in long slow notes, the same kind of profound fathomless music Lara had once discovered buried within the earth. Similar, not identical: there were aspects to Aerin’s magic that spoke of a connection to a land very far from Lara’s own. But there was enough in common that when she reached deep, searching for a response from Lara’s world, it was able to answer. Strength welled up, calm, steady, unhurried, and filled Aerin with the earth’s living magic. She caught her breath, clearly sensing the same off notes that differentiated the Barrow-lands from Earth, but she braced herself and the music changed ever so slightly, two disparate magics adapting to each other. “Mortal lands,” Aerin whispered roughly. “Immortal magic is uncomfortable being worked here. Release him, and we’ll disturb you no more.”

Power surged out of her, connecting Dafydd to Lara’s world in the same way Aerin herself was. No: the music changed instantly, not recognizing Dafydd and his lightning magics as it had recognized Aerin’s bond with the earth. It seized him like a cat with a rodent, shaking and rattling ferociously.

He tore free of the worldwalking door, a shout of pain accompanying the ripped magic. But the earth had no intention of letting the invader go. Its slow music had the tonality of a threat, a recognition of a thing that didn’t belong. Aerin’s presence intensified, her own slightly alien song determined to show the similarities between what she was and what Dafydd was. “Different from mortal lands and mortal magics,” she agreed, as though the earth itself could hear and respond to words. “But not dangerous.”

A lie , whether she meant it as one or not. The earth far below bellowed, a roar that reminded Lara all too clearly of how the ground and sky had been rent asunder by the worldbreaking staff. She lurched forward, catching Aerin’s arm, and thrust her own desperate reassurance into the growing earth storm: “I know you remember. I remember, too. But it wasn’t this magic or this man who hurt you in the Catskills. Listen to my words, to my song. I’m a truthseeker, and you know what I say is true.” She might have felt foolish, shouting at the world itself, except Aerin’s approval was evident, and Lara clearly recalled the living earth responding when she had first wielded the worldbreaking weapon.

And the earth seemed to recall her, as well. A grumble rolled through its music, but it abruptly fell away, releasing Dafydd from its grip. He collapsed, Lara bearing his weight as Aerin released him and staggered the few steps back to Detective Washington’s side. She fell against him heavily, hands planted on his shoulders, and for the second time, magic rushed from her, pouring into Washington. The music changed again, becoming truer than it had been when captured in either Aerin or Dafydd’s frame. It knew Washington, knew him in a way the earth had known Lara as well, recognizing him as mortal-born and part of its domain. It embraced him more willingly—more willingly, even, than it had accepted Lara and her brand of mortal magic—and a note of sorrowing darkness came into the music.

“No.” Aerin’s voice was harsh but pleading. “Only hold him. Cradle him. Do not take him into your bosom. He is not yet meant for the barrows, not if the mortal healers are strong. Only lend him the stamina he lacks, so that time and determination might make him well. He will be yours in time, as all mortal things are, and he will come to you in body as all mortal things do. Let him live this little while yet, safe in your embrace.”

Earth magic thrummed, deep song that vibrated the small bones of Lara’s ears, then settled in contentment. Traces of its long slow notes lingered around Washington, an answer to Aerin’s request. After long moments she released her hold on the magic, song falling away as she lifted her head, exhaustion evident in every movement. “He will live. If he is strong, he will live.”

“That’s fantastic.” Pure truth made Kelly’s voice a thing of uplifting music, but her tone was edged with panic. Lara, still supporting Dafydd, turned to find her friend pressed against the door, using her body weight to keep it closed. A resounding thump echoed from its far side, the door jumping, and she bared her teeth as she put her weight against it more heavily. “That’s fricking fantastic, but we’ve got another problem. How the hell are we going to get out of here? There’s a goddamned riot squad outside the door.”

Lara flinched as the door thumped again, bewilderment coursing through her. “How do they even know something’s wrong?”

“Oh, because everybody in here’s been shouting for the past five minutes? Would somebody please do something?” Kelly shouted herself. Aerin took a handful of swift steps across the room, abandoning Washington to instead enfold Ioan in her arms. The look she gave Dafydd was as expectant as any Emyr had ever commanded, and Lara felt him draw himself up, preparing the glamour that would hide them from mortal eyes.

Felt, too, the line of tension that ran through him, and she spoke before he did: “The magic’s gone, isn’t it. You’re cut off?”

“I am. Not so exhaustively as before, but—”

“We don’t really have time to debate the details!” Kelly snapped. The door jolted again and she yelped. “Guys, I can’t hold this. The only reason the door’s not already open is they’re probably trying not to kill me on their way in. You, Ioan, prince-guy. Can you do the big glamour magic and hide everybody? And I mean everybody ?”

Ioan blinked at her fuzzily, then, much as Dafydd had, deliberately drew himself together, clearly searching for his own power. Lara took a breath to protest, then swallowed it on another realization: “You can understand her?”

Aerin shot Lara a brief uncomprehending glance before her gaze cleared. “Yes. What have you done?”

“I didn’t do anything!” Out-of-tune music spun through the objection, searching for an aspect of truth. Lara pressed a hand against her temple, trying to push the automatic truthseeking away. “It doesn’t matter right now. Ioan, can you—”

Like his brother, Ioan shook his head. “Annwn’s magic hasn’t deserted me, but I’m simply too weary, Truthseeker. A glamour to hide us all is beyond me.”

Frustration rose up, though Lara kept sharp commentary behind her teeth. Dafydd had glamoured not only four people, but a vehicle, while so drained of magic he could barely maintain consciousness. Either his will or his inherent power was greater than Ioan’s, though in Ioan’s defense, he had sustained a head injury where Dafydd had not.

Aerin, cursing so vividly the meaning was lost to translation, dragged a glamour into place herself. “I will not be able to hold this as long as royalty might,” she warned as she and Ioan faded away. “We have very little time.”

“Ow!” Kelly ran forward, getting out of the way as the door flew open and security, including the fit older guard from before, burst through. Doctors, nurses, even Dickon Collins, flooded through after them, voices lifted in concern and outrage before one, then all, took notice of Dafydd, still standing in Lara’s embrace.