Chapter Forty-Eight
The familiarity of home filled the air. Casselarn was an hour away, maybe less. Even with the danger ahead and Silas left behind, Archer was happy to be home again.
Scout picked up the pace, also eager to return home. Archer wondered if the horse sensed his rider was already there. If so, he hoped Penn was safe—as safe as he could be in the company of villains.
“Wait!” Adelaide called.
For once, Archer was the impulsive one. He hadn’t even realized Scout had pulled him several paces ahead of the others until that shout. Before he could rein the horse in, they slammed into an invisible wall. Scout neighed in distress and reared back.
Archer lost his grip and fell off the horse.
As soon as he hit the ground, he rolled away, careful not to get trampled under Scout’s frantically stomping hooves.
Eventually, the horse calmed down and began pacing along the invisible line, huffing and snorting as if arguing with it to let him through.
Adelaide crouched next to Archer, her lips pursed in a tight line, though her gaze was unfocused as she stared ahead. Rainbows shimmered in her eyes. “Alistair has raised a barrier around the city.”
“Like yours?” Archer asked as he pushed himself to his feet.
She approached the barrier and ran her fingers through the air. Everywhere she touched shimmered briefly in rainbow colors before fading again. “Not so much ‘like mine’ as I am the original creator.”
“Like the one around the cottage?” The barrier around Adelaide’s cottage had three layers that acted both as defense and offense. If anyone tried to break through it, they would likely die of the backlash.
“No, this is simpler, one I had started to put in place before Penn called me away. It is only a single layer, though it is meant to cover all of Casselarn. There’s no way around it”
“What do we do?” Norwin asked.
Adelaide took a deep breath. “I can break it, but it will not be pleasant.” She locked eyes with Archer and said, “Find Penn, find Valerian, and end this.”
Archer nodded and grabbed Scout’s reins. The horse had calmed down enough to allow Archer near him but sweat covered his coat and he was still panting heavily. The magic would only distress the horse further, so Archer walked him a ways back down the trail, out of sight, and tied him in place.
When Archer returned, Adelaide had already begun her spell.
She stood with her head tilted back, her hands held out at her sides.
The wind picked up around them, transforming from a gentle breeze to a howling gale.
Leaves and twigs flew through the air, smacking against the invisible wall, outlining the barrier.
A loud crack echoed around them. Archer looked up in time to see a branch split in half.
He grabbed Norwin and yanked him out of the way.
Instead of falling to the ground, the wind picked up the branch and whipped it straight at the barrier.
It collided with enough force to skewer a hole right through the invisible wall.
Archer crouched over Norwin, and they lowered themselves to the ground, making as small of targets as possible.
The wind continued to pick up speed and strength. Debris swirled around them, all headed straight for the barrier. Rocks battered it, causing cracks of light to appear wherever they hit. Branches and sticks skewered it at every angle.
A low, groaning creak drew Archer’s attention to a nearby pine. It swayed, its old roots valiantly trying to keep it upright, but it was no match for Adelaide’s winds. With one last ear-splitting crack, it toppled forward, right onto the barrier.
The barrier held for a single breath before collapsing beneath the weight of the pine. All the other branches that had been suspended inside the barrier scattered to the ground, covering it in debris.
Adelaide still stood in the center of the swirling winds, and they seemed to be picking up speed.
Archer called her name, but she didn’t react to him.
More trees swayed around them, losing against the Witch’s power. They toppled into each other, their combined weight pressing against the other trees until even the strongest, oldest ones collapsed.
Gritting his teeth, Archer pushed up from the ground. The wind pulled at his clothes and dragged him forward, toward the witch at the center of the storm.
Magic pulsed around her in shimmering waves. The storm was spreading further out, and in the distance, the sound of more trees falling across on the road.
“Adelaide!” he called her name again, but the wind whipped his voice away immediately. He swore under his breath. Hoping his interference wouldn’t hurt her, he tackled her to the ground.
The wind stopped immediately. The trees still creaked and swayed around them.
Was I too late? Will the entire forest come down around us?
He held his breath, as if one wrong gust could topple everything.
There was a single loud thump as a cluster of pines fell to the ground, then silence as the trees settled back into place.
Archer lifted himself up and looked down at Adelaide. Unconscious, she seemed so small and fragile, not at all like she contained a storm within her, ready to unleash on a moment’s notice.
She couldn’t fight Alistair in her condition; she’d only be putting herself in more danger. “Thank you,” he whispered. “Whatever the outcome, you’ve done enough.”
Archer pushed himself to his feet. “Guard her,” he ordered. “If she wakes, you can escort her up the mountain, but until then, make sure none of the Bellacostan defectors sneak up on you.”
“Of course, Your Majesty,” Norwin replied stoically.
Archer returned to Scout to find the horse pawing at the ground. Though he’d avoided the worst of the storm, small branches were still scattered around him. He glared at Archer balefully, as if to say: this never happens with Penn.
“We’re almost home,” Archer reassured him, massaging the tense muscles in the horse’s neck.
Slowly, Scout relaxed and allowed Archer to mount him again. Although their path had almost disappeared under the wreckage, Scout’s footing was secure, his gait steady and determined as he carried Archer home.
“I knew you didn’t believe it,” Niall hissed as he grabbed Penn’s arms, digging his fingers into his muscles.
“Alistair was convinced his little ruse worked, that you truly believed he was the mercenary, but I wasn’t fooled for a moment.
You asked too many questions. Made too many pointed comments.
” Niall backed them into the cottage and Penn allowed it, keeping an eye on the other open door. “Now, what have you done to him?”
“I haven’t done anything,” Penn said, “and if it stays that way, he’ll die.”
Niall’s brow furrowed, but he shook his head sharply. “A likely story!” Before he could declare anything else, his foot slipped out from under him.
Penn wrenched out of Niall’s loosened grip.
Without anything to hold onto, the mage crashed to the floor on his hands and knees, his nose almost landing in the puddle of blood. His eyes widened and he shrieked, “You’ve murdered him!”
Not yet, but I’ll gladly murder you. After their last few fights, Penn knew that Niall’s barrier was too strong for him to break through on his own.
Good thing I’m in a witch’s cottage. He ran back into her storeroom and snatched bottles off the shelf, mentally apologizing to Adelaide, hoping she would understand the waste.
He had no idea what any of it was for or how to mix any of it into potions, so he used them the only way he could—chucking them right at Niall.
“What are you—” Niall snarled as one of the bottles collided with his barrier.
The glass smashed against the invisible wall.
Pieces scattered everywhere, though Niall was left untouched.
The liquid contents inside the bottle slid down his barrier like rain on a window, temporarily blocking his view so that he couldn’t see the next bottle hurled at him. “Stop that!”
“I’ve never listened to you before,” Penn said, throwing another bottle. “I’m not going to start now!”
One of the bottles had dried flowers that stuck in the liquid, creating a blotted mess hanging in midair.
“Do you have any idea how dangerous it is to mix ingredients haphazardly like this?”
“Nope!” Penn threw another one.
Niall snarled and tried to wipe the potion away, then bellowed in pain as the concoction sizzled against his fingertips.
So the bottles can’t break past his barrier, but if he touches it willingly, it can still hurt him? Penn filed that information away, wondering how he could trick the mage into defeating himself.
Niall stumbled to his feet, searching for something to clear his vision.
Penn tossed a few other bottles at his back for good measure. He slammed and locked the door to keep Niall out, then returned to the worktable, where he’d set aside the only ingredients he wasn’t willing to sacrifice.
While Niall stumbled around in the kitchen, Penn scrambled around Adelaide’s little workshop, gathering the necessary tools. She’d even given him instructions on which bowl to use for which stage.
Was the mullein or the myrhis supposed to go in first? Was it spring water or rainwater? Something needed to be crushed before adding … Dammit, I can’t remember!
He couldn’t afford a single mistake.
Taking a deep breath, Penn reached into his mental shields, where he’d tucked a memory away, wrapped it up nice and tight like a present. He yanked the wrapping away with one swift rip.
“Son of a—” Niall’s curse was cut off as the memory engulfed Penn.
“Here is what you will need,” Adelaide explained as she pulled ingredients off the shelf.
The memory didn’t exactly match the quantities of ingredients Penn had found—she didn’t have to search under the worktable for the yew berries, she simply pulled the bottle from its proper place with little fuss.
But her movements were calm and confident, and he already had everything in place.