Chapter Fifteen #2
Ix started, then looked down at it with some confusion, but when Eric tried to remove his hand, Ix grabbed it and put it back.
It was just as well that Ceron and Ramsay were busy with the mirror, because a blush crept up the back of Eric’s neck.
Thankfully, Ix was already looking back at the magic working, so he didn’t notice.
“I wondered whether there would be any point bringing Ramsay at first,” he murmured. Close enough, that counted as a thank you for a good idea from Ix.
It took several tries. Ceron would get to a certain point before stopping, reaching out to wipe the runes clean, shake himself out and start over, though each attempt lasted longer before a failure.
Ramsay gave a few notes of guidance here and there, his tone gentle despite Ceron’s increasing impatience.
“I managed this my first time,” said Ix mildly. Eric did not quite remember it that way, but the needling remark was enough to make Ceron hiss at him, his long serpentine tongue flickering in the air. Eric felt himself sink back further into the sofa, despite himself.
And yet, it worked. Ceron furrowed his brow and tried again. This time when Ramsay looked at the notes, he nodded, and Ix let out the tiniest of breaths.
Ceron finished chalking the last rune, grimacing with the strain of holding his unruly magic in place as Ramsay did one final check. Eric still couldn’t see anything aside from the priest looking around at something invisible in midair, but Ramsay seemed satisfied.
“All looks correct, Your Highness,” said Ramsay, and Ceron grunted. Both of them gasped as Ceron released his magic into the spell. It probably looked beautiful or mystical or awfully impressive, not that Eric could tell.
A moment later, even Eric could sense magic was happening. The curtains rustled even though the windows weren’t open and the hairs on the back of his neck prickled as if someone had blown across his skin. “Is it working?”
Ix grimaced; it must have been doubly hard for him not knowing either, as the only person who would have been able to tell if the spell was correctly formed.
It wasn’t the same as last time, when Ix had presumably had been tweaking and changing his spell to see what would work or not.
Now he had laid it out for Ceronzar to carry out, it happened all at once.
The mirror rippled as if it were suddenly made of water, the reflection distorting in a most nauseating way.
Wind whipped through the glass, sharp and sudden, chilling the room and Eric was thankful he hadn’t taken his winter coat off.
Prince Ceronzar and Ramsay both took an instinctive step back as frost started to form on the edges of the mirror, but then leaned so far forward with fascination that Eric wanted to shout at them.
Eric was evidently the only person in this room with the good sense not to be lured in by a doorway to the demon realms, even though everyone else surely knew more intimately the dangers of the demon realm.
“Unbelievable,” said Ceron sharply. “It’s really open.”
“Did you not think it would?” asked Ix.
“I can’t make a habit of admitting you’re right, brother.” Ceron sneered, before stepping over the frost to examine the mirror, fingertips lingering just above the surface.
Eric held his breath for so long that his chest hurt.
This was the point where Ix had just gone last time.
Attempted to just walk through the barrier between the realms without so much as packing a bag (or, more importantly, saying goodbye).
The laugh punched its way out of Eric’s chest before he could stifle it; everyone in the room turned to him.
“You didn’t even pack a bag,” said Eric, by way of explanation. It seemed so ridiculous. No one else seemed to find it as funny as him, so he waved it away. “Please, carry on.”
“I could just walk through,” said Ceron, watching the strange ripples that appeared under the glass with interest.
“You could,” said Ix, deceptively mildly. “But that is how I ended up like this.”
“You? Tried to cross over?” Ceron shot Ix a sharp look, silent for a long moment.
He hadn’t known, Eric realized suddenly.
Not about how Ix lost his powers and not about his desire to cross into the demon realms. His desire to go there had been obvious to Eric, Ix’s closest friend who spent almost every day in his company, but Ceron shunned their company and his spying was clearly lacking.
If it had been just the two of them, the two demon princes, perhaps they would have discussed it in more detail.
They were the only two in existence who understood this specific pain, after all.
But Eric was there and Ramsay was there too, and after a quick glance at the priest, Ceron seemed to think better of it.
He leaned back from the mirror, his usual mocking tone back immediately.
“Well by no means do I want to end up like you.”
This next part was untried. Eric held still as Ceron reached out and touched his necklace, the one imbued with Ix’s magic.
He’d agreed to using his it to help trace Ix’s magic, and he hadn’t even owned the necklace for that long, but it still felt slightly invasive for Ceron to be holding it when it was a present from Ix and still warm with Eric’s body heat.
He would have taken it off, except that facing an open portal to the demon realms when Ix was powerless and he might have to rely on Ceron for help seemed a poor idea.
How this was supposed to work eluded Eric, much in the same way that he didn’t know why a magnet was drawn to another magnet, but Ix had seemed confident it would and Eric trusted him at least. Ceron cradled the amber in his palm when the wind rattled the chain and made the pendant swing wildly, narrowing his eyes in concentration for a long moment before releasing it with a scowl.
“Your magic spells are too damn convoluted.”
For a moment, Eric thought Ceron was giving up; disappointment lurched in his stomach.
“Fortunate for you that I’m familiar with the taste of this spell.” Ceron sniffed, and waved his hand. He could do it then, he was just complaining for the sake of it. Gods, Eric could do without such suspense right now. He tucked the necklace safely back under his shirt.
A shadow passed over the surface of the mirror, large enough that Eric could see the outline of a clawed hand as if reaching out.
He could swear his heart stopped for a beat, and then the shadow was pulled away by the whirling wind.
Ramsay stepped forward and pressed his palm against the thin layer of ice on the mirror, using his own body heat to melt it so Ceron could reapply the chalk where it had smudged.
A few other wisps passed by, but none of the other demons made an attempt.
With each passing breath, the air grew colder until Eric’s breath formed white in front of his face.
He pulled his gloves back on and huddled down against the sofa.
At some point, Ix wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him in; Eric pressed gladly against him to leech off his body warmth, too cold to even think about propriety as he started shivering.
“Should have worn a shirt, hm?” said Ix mildly as Ceron looked increasingly disgruntled, brushing off the frost that kept trying to form on his bare nipples. In his cold-addled mind, that was the funniest thing Eric had ever heard, and he collapsed into silent giggles, shaking against Ix’s side.
He wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, waiting, waiting, until Ramsay squinted. “Your Highness, I think I see – uh, something.”
And suddenly Eric saw it too. Not a wisp, not a shadow, but an inkblot of deepest black, growing larger and larger. Ramsay swiftly drew his sword as it spread over the entire surface of the mirror in less than the span of a blink, and then it was here. In the room.
Eric didn’t even have the wherewithal to scream.
He was frozen in place like a pinned bug.
Even though he had glimpsed Damaris’s real form, this was nothing like that.
He could barely describe it, it was as if a vat of oil had gained life of its own, pitch black and roiling, bubbling, oozing and filling the room.
The air filled with the pungent smell of decay.
He caught a flash of movement at the corner of his eye.
Ramsay, darting forward with his sword outstretched.
No, don’t, Eric wanted to cry out but he wasn’t fast enough.
The sword sank into the black mass, swallowed up to the hilt momentarily before there was a hiss, the smell of burning flesh and blackened smoke where the enchanted metal had touched the darkness.
And then a rumble, so deep and thunderous that Eric felt the floor shake beneath him.
Ramsay pulled his sword back, lining up for another slash when something shot out of the darkness, a tendril or an arm or a whip, razor fast. It punched Ramsay square in the chest and flung him clear across the room.
Ix grabbed Eric’s head and shoved them both down as the recoil lashed over their heads before sinking back into the liquid thundercloud.
A terrible thud as Ramsay’s head hit the wall. A clatter as his sword fell to the ground. He slumped over, unconscious.
Neither Ixthan nor Ceronzar had stepped forward in that time, but Ix did so now, pushing Eric back behind him unsubtly. And then he made the most unexpected gesture: a lavish, sarcastic bow that made Eric fear for his safety.
Ix stopped, just at the edge of where the black sludge would seep over his boots. “Your Majesty.”
Eric’s heart nearly stopped.
“It’s been a while, Mother.”