Chapter Fifteen
The portly man and a bespectacled fellow beside him were killed almost instantly, too surprised to mount an effective defense. With a shriek, a woman at one end of the semicircle also fell under the onslaught of two wights.
Trained mages, the Council members soon started to fight back with the pyromancy, aquamancy, and other magics at their disposal.
They managed to incapacitate many of the creatures, but they were outnumbered.
For each wight that the mages managed to bury, sink in the river, or set on fire, another one took its place.
Completely immobilized, Elizabeth could do nothing but watch in sick horror as innocent people fought and died.
When the wights managed to kill a mancer and drain their magic, shimmering trails of power fed that energy back to augment the necromancer’s magic.
Soon he glowed with a yellow radiance as he laughed and exulted in his newfound power.
When the radiance reached its peak, Lord Walter grabbed Elizabeth by her elbow, dragging her to the side of his son’s litter. She tried to pull away, but with her arms fastened behind her back, it was impossible.
Trapping her against the litter, the earl placed one hand on Elizabeth’s collarbone and took his son’s wrist in the other, allowing him to pull power from Elizabeth and infuse it into Edward.
Immediately, Elizabeth felt as if her insides were being liquified and extracted through her mouth.
She barely muffled a scream of agony at the sensation of being scraped raw.
At this rate, she would be drained of her life energy in minutes.
In an attempt to distract herself from the pain, Elizabeth turned her attention to the earl’s followers.
Some had joined the battle, expressing their dissatisfaction with the Council by helping the wights destroy the mancers.
Others were observing the melee, but then many of the bystanders turned their heads toward the city at some sign of movement Elizabeth had not caught.
Peering in that direction, she saw a small group of indistinct figures racing toward the battle.
A moment later, she recognized her Uncle Gardiner, Lydia, and Jane at the front of the group.
It was an army of Bennets! They were a truly magnificent sight—warriors who would not hesitate to throw themselves into the fray.
For the first time, Elizabeth allowed herself to hope.
Within seconds, the ranks of the Council members were reinforced by four Bennet sisters, Elizabeth’s father, and Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, providing new energy to the battle. She did not see William, but surely he was nearby.
Colonel Fitzwilliam approached Lord Walter and stood on the far side of the litter. “Father, this is not the way! I beg you to desist.”
“Leave me, Richard!” the earl commanded. “You will be happy enough when your brother is returned to you.”
“Edward would not want this,” the colonel argued. “And Mother will never speak with you again if you follow through on this plan.”
“Begone! Leave me! I have no quarrel with you!” the earl shouted at his son.
From the corner of her eye, Elizabeth saw a flash of silver from a knife that hovered in midair midway between her and the earl.
Of course, William was concealed by shadows!
With a quick slashing motion, it cut through the cord of energy connecting her to Lord Walter. She fell backward, gasping in relief.
The necromancer whirled around. screaming in inarticulate rage at the loss of power.
He destroyed the knife with a blast of light, but he could see nobody to vent his anger upon.
Instead, —guessing that his son was part of a distraction—he turned and blasted the colonel with dark power, causing him to stagger backward.
However, he remained unharmed. Elizabeth’s father must have fashioned a shield for the colonel.
The earl screamed imprecations at his son and leaped over the litter to reach the colonel.
His son retreated, drawing the necromancer away—no doubt part of the plan.
Elizabeth’s attention was distracted when the mancer guard beside her jerked suddenly and mysteriously collapsed as if struck by an invisible assailant.
Then she sensed a gentle tugging at the cords binding her wrists. “’Tis I, my love,” breathed a warm voice in her ear. Swathed in shadows, William was freeing her while the colonel drew his father’s attention.
The cool steel of a knife blade briefly rested against her wrists before it severed the cords.
She shook out her hands to restore the circulation while he drew both of them away from the litter.
The shadows cleared, and William stood before her.
“My darling,” he murmured in her ear. “I cannot apologize enough for my foolishness. I led you right to the necromancer.”
She took his hand in hers. “He deceived everyone, William. Do not be uneasy.”
“I would prefer to take you to safety, but I do not believe you will allow it.”
“You know me too well,” she said soberly. “Only a vivomancer can free the wights from the necromancer’s control.”
He closed his eyes briefly, squeezing her hands. “There are too many! You would be killed before you can reach them all.”
He was not wrong. Dozens of the creatures attacked the Council members—several of whom lay still on the grass.
The earl had finally neutralized Colonel Fitzwilliam, who had crumpled in a heap near the Council building, and had returned to infusing the stolen life energy into his other son.
Edward Fitzwilliam’s body had started to glow with an unearthly blue light.
“Lord Walter is the key,” she told William. “Stopping him will stop the wights.”
He nodded, releasing Elizabeth and turning to his uncle as if he would fight him, but she caught his arm. “I am the only one who can defeat him,” she insisted.
“No. Surely—”
“I must attempt it.”
“Elizabeth, I cannot lose you!”
From his place by the side of the litter, the earl bellowed to his followers, “Bring me the vivomancer! I must have her to complete the ritual!”
On the other side of the battle, Wickham shouted, “Get the Bennet wench and take her to our leader!”
Several of the necromancer’s followers turned and marched toward Elizabeth. She only had seconds to react. “You need to stop Wickham from inciting the followers. That will weaken the earl’s power.”
William stared grimly at the followers who were approaching. He understood that she could not battle Matlock and his minions simultaneously. “I will stop them and Wickham.” A second later, shadows enveloped him. Two seconds later, the approaching mages halted as they were blinded by shadows.
Elizabeth whirled around and raced toward Edward Fitzwilliam’s litter. Her lungs labored and her feet stumbled, reminding her that the earl had already drawn copious reserves of energy from her.
She reached the litter, but Lord Walter had cast a shield around the area as he continued to infuse energy into his son’s body. Edward was beginning to move his hands and turn his head from side to side. He was indeed coming to life. Elizabeth swallowed bile that threatened to erupt at the sight.
She was out of time, and her own life energies were faltering.
Desperately, she pulled energy from the living things around her—plants, trees, grass—and threw it at the Necromancer’s shields. She managed to make a small dent in the shield, but it had little impact otherwise—except for drawing Matlock’s attention.
He grinned through the shield’s slight distortions. “How good of you to present yourself. I have need of your powers to complete the last step.”
“I will give you one last chance to stop. Cease this carnage and repent,” she said.
He laughed, throwing his arms wide and gesturing to the mayhem he had set in motion.
“Why would I stop now? I will soon achieve everything I have worked for!” Stretching his hand, he grabbed the bodice of Elizabeth’s dress and pulled her toward him—through the brief disturbance of his shield.
She struggled against his hold, but the wights were augmenting his strength, and she could not dislodge his hand.
Within seconds, she was inside the perimeter of his shield, no more capable of escaping than she had been of entering.
“Really, you should surrender, my dear,” he sneered. “It will be less painful for you, and the end will be quicker.” His magic once again latched onto her vivomancy, draining it like a river of energy pouring from her body. It hurt like he was pulling her lungs out through her ribcage.
Elizabeth struggled to focus her mind despite the pain, searching inside herself for a ball of white light she had created and concealed inside her body.
Creating white light with the energy she had pulled from the living things outside the shield was the only way she could conceive of stopping the necromancer.
She had only used white light power once before when she had incapacitated Wickham—who was a far less powerful mancer than the earl. Elizabeth said a silent prayer that this would work. He was, after all, a mage of death, and she wielded the power of life.
Trying to ignore the searing pain, she pushed the light across the small gap between them and encouraged it to infuse itself into the earl’s body.
His body jerked, his spasming hand released her, and she stumbled to her knees.
He staggered backward—his eyes wide with shock as he attempted to understand what was happening.
With a swipe of his hands, he cut off the magical stream connecting him to Elizabeth, but it was too late.
The bright white life energy was already inside him.
He opened his eyes and fixed his gaze on Elizabeth. “You cannot stop me for long!” he snarled.
Elizabeth had only seconds’ warning before the wights descended on her.
***