Chapter Fifteen #2
Leaving Elizabeth to face his uncle had been the most difficult thing Darcy had ever done in his life. But she was correct. Vivomancy was necessary to counteract necromancy—and Darcy needed to fend off Wickham and the minions so Elizabeth could focus on the necromancer.
Before they left Matlock House, Richard had equipped everyone with spells and magical weapons—like the knife Darcy had used to sever Matlock’s connection to Elizabeth.
He had also acquired useful spells concealed in several rings he now wore.
Darcy released a Stunning spell in the faces of the two followers he had blinded with shadows.
They slumped to the ground. He hurled a Fireball spell at the next mage he encountered.
Having thwarted Elizabeth’s pursuers, Darcy joined the battle between the necromancer’s forces and the Council members and their allies.
Many of the wights had been buried in dirt, thrown into the Thames, or lit aflame.
But he knew from the fight at Longbourn that the creatures were only temporarily immobilized.
However, in the meantime, the defenders were mostly struggling against the necromancer’s human followers—fighting magic with magic.
Jane swept two of the earl’s followers into the river with huge waves while Lydia used a broadsword she had conjured to deflect firebolts thrown by a tall, thin mage.
Kitty was dueling another pyromancer, alternating between throwing fireballs and setting fire to the surrounding foliage; both mages were encircled by scorched earth.
Mr. Gardiner was using telekinesis to hurl rocks at the offending mancers.
Wickham, the coward, had not joined the fray. He stood on a tree stump as he exhorted the earl’s followers to fight and flinched every time the battle came too close to him.
Darcy pulled shadows about himself and crept around the perimeter of the battle, quickly reaching Wickham’s boulder. He tore away the concealing shadows as soon as he was standing before the blackguard, startling him into nearly losing his footing.
“Darc—!” The man’s scream devolved into a gurgle when Darcy belted him on the chin.
He fell backward, hit his head on the rock, went limp, and slithered off the boulder into an awkward heap on the ground.
Darcy wasted no time in tying the man’s hands behind his back and then gagging him for good measure—with his own cravat.
After Wickham’s attack on Elizabeth, Darcy almost wished the blackguard had provided a reason to kill him, but at least his mancy was ended.
The effect on the earl’s followers was not instantaneous.
But over the course of a few minutes, their will to fight waned.
Three men ran away, hoping to lose themselves in London’s streets.
Two others lost their concentration and were felled by the magical tricks of their opponents.
Another two simply surrendered. Added to the number who had already been captured or killed, most of the followers were accounted for.
Darcy had expected the wights to resume their attack on the Council now that they had time to recover from the various magical defenses. But when he searched the skies, he realized the creatures were speeding toward Elizabeth.
The earl’s shields had fallen, and Edward had ceased moving. A bright white glow blazed from Elizabeth’s hand, pushing inside the earl’s chest. He had staggered backward but could not escape from it.
However, she could not defend herself from the wights and sustain her attack on the earl.
Seeing the intense concentration on her face, Darcy very much feared that she would not even notice the wights until it was too late.
“To Elizabeth!” he shouted to the others as he raced toward her.
“Protect Elizabeth! She fights the necromancer!”
He cast shadows even as he ran, blinding the first wight to reach Elizabeth.
The second scored a long bloody scratch down her arm, causing her to flinch, but she did not look away from the earl.
Fortunately, Kitty was there to ignite the creature.
Richard had staggered to Elizabeth’s side and managed to stab the next one with his sword.
The earl screamed for help from his followers, not realizing that they had deserted him.
Then Bennet, his face red with exertion, reached Elizabeth and cast a quick shield spell over her, repelling even the most determined wights. Darcy grinned. Their fierce defense of Elizabeth allowed her to focus her attention on the earl.
The white light had incapacitated Matlock, but he was still in command of his magic and still controlling the wights, a truly unstoppable force.
Then Darcy noticed the amulet around Lord Walter’s neck—the same amulet Darcy had stolen weeks ago.
It gleamed with a baleful red glow. Darcy knew the necromancer needed it to create wights, but why would it glow now—in the midst of battle?
That is how he binds the wights! He had needed the amulet to summon the creatures, and he used it to keep them trapped in the physical world.
“Elizabeth!” he cried. “Destroy the amulet!”
Without hesitation, she pointed to the amulet and pulsed life energy into it. Matlock tried to turn away, but he was too late. The white light caught inside the amulet’s red stone, creating a fiery blaze so bright that Darcy was forced to avert his eyes.
As a tool of necromancy, the amulet was certainly not designed to contain such vivomancy. The earl yanked at the chain holding the amulet as if it burned him, but before he could rid himself of it, the amulet burst into an eerie red fire—as though flames devoured the medallion from the inside.
Waves of magical power spread out from the amulet like ripples in a pond. As the ripples washed over the wights, they desisted their attacks, losing focus and flying aimlessly around the sky.
The red flames themselves soon crept out of the amulet, spreading to consume the fabric of the earl’s tunic, producing agonizing screams. The fire burrowed into the flesh underneath—behaving as no natural fire would.
Lord Walter shrieked as mystical flames spread down his legs and along his arms. Within seconds, his body began to crumble into ashes until even his head and face had disappeared.
Soon nothing remained of the necromancer’s body but a pile of dust.
Only then did Darcy think to glance around—and noted that all of the wights had disappeared. The trapped souls were now free. On the litter, Edward’s flesh crumbled away, leaving behind bare, desiccated bones.
Elizabeth’s face was blackened by soot and dirt; wisps of hair escaped her coiffure, and her dress was rumpled and torn.
But Darcy had never seen anyone more beautiful.
He closed the few feet between them and enfolded her in his arms. She leaned against him, trembling with exhaustion and nerves.
“I k-killed him…” she murmured into Darcy’s chest.
He smoothed the curls that had escaped her pins. “You destroyed the amulet. You could not have foreseen it would kill him.”
“Still, I was the instrument of his death.”
“You had no choice, my love. And you saved many lives.”
She rested more of her weight against him until he was practically holding her in a standing position. “At least the souls of those wights are now free,” she said.
“Yes. That is a blessing.”
They were silent for a long moment. Elizabeth closed her eyes and breathed deeply, enjoying the moment of peace.
“My love?” Darcy murmured.
“Yes?”
“Your father and uncle are approaching, and I believe they do not approve of the familiar way in which I am holding you.”
Muffled giggles vibrated against his chest.
“Will you do me the honor of being my wife?”
Pulling a little away from him, Elizabeth met his gaze. “Do you suppose these are the ideal circumstances for an offer of marriage, William?” she inquired archly.
He shrugged with a smile. “I fear our lives have conspired to prevent ideal circumstances.”
She heaved a pretend sigh. “Very well. I will marry you. But someday I would like a lovely marriage proposal.”
He chuckled. “Perhaps on our honeymoon.” He bent his head to kiss her.