Earth's Hope (33 page)

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Gwydion stepped through a gateway and waited for the others. He forced magic outward to reassure himself they’d come out at the right place, and was gratified when he sensed Fionn’s energy, along with Dewi’s and Nidhogg’s. He sheathed his power. No reason to do a headcount of everyone who’d been here. He gazed at the dry, dead landscape he remembered from earlier visits. Not the last one where his astral self had been locked away in a bell jar deep within a dungeon. He’d never seen the outside of his prison then, since he’d teleported both ways.

Gradually, Arawn, Andraste, and the humans and dragons emerged. “No one’s here,” Arawn observed. “They were, and not all that long ago, but what happened to them?”

“Do you suppose they’re in there?” Timothy motioned toward the fortress.

“’Tis as good a guess as any,” Gwydion muttered.

Kra trumpeted and blew smoke. “The dark ones are here. I feel them.”

“You and I can stand watch while the others go inside,” Berra said. “We could merge with them, but it would be foolhardy to not guard our exit route.”

“Thank you.” Andraste blew a kiss at the dragons.

“Shall we?” Gwydion jerked his chin forward, grasped his staff, and took off at a lope. If the dragon was right about the dark gods—and there was no reason he wouldn’t be—why wasn’t his staff glowing red? Normally, the staff wasn’t influenced by wards. Maybe the magic-muting effect of this world had something to do with it.

Arawn chugged around him and across the drawbridge. “Charming.” He pointed at two sea serpents coiled beneath them in the moat.

Andraste caught them up, mumbling, “We should have annihilated both these borderworlds a long time ago.”

“A use for us already.” Kra screamed a battle cry and bathed the serpents with fire. Berra joined him. The inferno blazed orange before it rolled off the serpents’ scales, but at least it kept them from squirting poison upward through slats in the drawbridge.

Gwydion let magic guide him through the entry hall, past portraits of the dark gods and into a dead end.

“What the fuck?” He turned in a circle and saw the doorway into the room vanish as the last of them entered it.

Arawn walked briskly to one of the mirrors and tapped its surface, except it swallowed his fingers. The god of the dead yanked his hand back. “Goddammit!”

Gwydion joined him. “Persian mirrors, huh?”

“’Twould appear so.”

“Aye.” Andraste spat on the floor. “They bite back.”

Timothy made his way to their side. “What are they?”

“Gateways,” Arawn said, his voice grim.

“Look, Celt.” Timothy crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re going to have to do better than that. Gateways to where?”

“I’m not certain,” Gwydion answered, “but, ’tis a sure bet Adva is here. He’s their god of portals, and I’d bet my ass he brought these with him.”

“Is that a guess, or are ye certain?” Arawn asked.

“As certain as I can be. I only tangled with him once, and he nearly had my hide because of these fucking things. He lured me inside, chasing him, and I got lost—horribly lost. ’Tis like a hall of mirrors inside with nothing firmly anchored.”

“How’d you get out?” Timothy asked.

“I verra nearly dinna. But I learned how to counteract their power.” He blew out a tense breath. “Let’s hope I recall exactly how I did it.”

A tall human female with a hawk on her shoulder spoke up. “Is it safe for the animals in there?” Her black hair was pulled back into a queue, and her dark eyes reflected worry.

“Probably not,” Gwydion said.

“Humph.” She pressed her lips together. “There are five of us Hunters. We’ll wait outside with the dragons.”

“How?” Timothy asked. “The door into this room got absorbed by something, probably the mirrors’ magic. If I pay attention, I can feel it like a scratchy undercurrent.”

Andraste drew magic experimentally, and a portal glittered before her. With a sharp nod, she scattered her spell. “Ye can teleport,” she said. “Mayhap not far, but at least out of here.”

A corner of Arawn’s mouth turned down grimly. “Aye, the mirrors are glad enough of us leaving their domain, but they guard the rest of this building—and goddess knows what else.”

The Hunters formed a tight ring with their bond animals. The dark-haired woman chanted low until a gateway formed and all of them walked through it. Gwydion waited until the magic winked out, then he turned and faced the others. Besides himself, Arawn, and Andraste, there were five humans.

“Listen closely,” he said. “Once we’re inside, ’twill feel as if something is crushing the verra breath from your body. We will face choices on the far side of the glass. ’Tis imperative we pick the correct one, or ’twill take us so long to return here we will be useless to Fionn and the others.”

“How will we know?” Timothy asked. “My magic isn’t as strong here as it is on Earth.”

Gwydion shot him a wry smile. “The choice that fights back is the one that will lead us into this stronghold. I sense Fionn in this room, Bran too. We may be able to track them once we’re behind the glass, but doona count on it.”

“Does every mirror work the same?” A human female with short, curly brown hair asked.

Arawn shook his head. “Nay. We must pick the correct one to enter, and then the correct choice once we’re within.”

“The first choice is easy,” Gwydion said and walked to the far side of the room. “This is where Fionn went through.”

“How can you be certain?” Timothy asked. “I sense him—and Nidhogg—in front of each mirror.”

“As do I,” Gwydion concurred, “but the energy moves forward here, and not with the others.”

“How do we know Fionn chose the right one?” the brown-haired female asked.

“Because he had the dragon with him,” Andraste said. “Nidhogg is many things, but he isna often wrong. Gwydion and I will draw a spell to hold all of us together. Ye all must weave your power in with ours to avoid being swept away once we cross the barrier.”

“Have ye ever passed through Persian mirrors?” Gwydion asked Arawn.

“Nay, but I’ve read about them.”

“Have you?” he asked Andraste.

“Aye.”

Gwydion snorted. “Excellent. I’ll take all the help I can get. Build this spell with me and we’ll be on our way.”

A rustle from a distant corner of the room had him spinning in place, hands raised to summon a death blow. Bella stalked from behind a mirror. “Son of a bitch,” Gwydion swore. “Why aren’t you with Fionn?”

“The mirrors felt bad.”

“Why dinna ye show yourself afore?” Arawn demanded.

The raven’s head drooped. “I didn’t wish to shame myself before the other animals.”

Gwydion chewed on his lower lip. “Ye showed yourself to us now for a reason. And it must be damned important. What is it?”

Bella rustled her feathers. “You picked the right mirror. Or the one Fionn took, anyway. Rune went with him. Don’t let anything happen to him.”

“I hate to take the time,” Andraste said, “but tell us what happened here. Just hit the high points.”

“Won’t take long.” The raven sounded like her old, sulky self. “One of the dark gods nabbed Aislinn right off Dewi’s back. Dewi went after her. Nidhogg freaked out, and he, Fionn, Rune, and Bran went after the women.”

“What happened to the humans?” Timothy asked.

“They went to Inishowen to keep watch over Fionn’s manor and fight Old Ones.”

“Aught else?” Arawn walked to where Bella was.

“Adva’s here, and I saw D’Chel too, but not Perrikus.”

“’Tis a safe bet all three are here, since the other borderworld held booby-traps but no master of ceremonies.” Gwydion clacked his mouth shut.

“Would ye rather wait for Fionn here or outside?” Arawn asked the bird. “Kra and Berra are keeping watch.”

“Outside. There are no guarantees Fionn will return by the same route.” Bella settled her wings across her back. “I can teleport myself. Go. Make sure nothing happens to Rune.”

“Doona ye wish me to watch out for Fionn too?” Gwydion furled his brows.

“He can take care of himself.”

The master enchanter grasped his staff and turned away. The bird was a sour number, but Fionn was bonded to her and there was no undoing it. Over centuries, they’d established a brittle détente, but Gwydion was mightily grateful he didn’t have to deal with Bella. He’d have throttled her long since.

As soon as the bird was gone, Andraste rolled her eyes. “That,” she intoned, “is why I never bothered with a bond animal. Too much trouble.”

“Never mind about that,” Gwydion said. “Let’s get moving or we may miss our opportunity to help anyone.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Aislinn got as comfortable as she could inside the dragon and tried to ignore Dewi’s rich mind. Before, when she’d shared Dewi’s form it had been tempting to help herself to what amounted to a comprehensive library and history of the world, but there’d never been time.

And there isn’t now, either.

“We need a better plan,” she told the dragon.

Dewi cocked her head to one side, listening. “Might be a tad late for that,” she grunted and swung her large body toward one of the unadorned walls moments before the room dissolved into blackness around them.

Aislinn wanted to call power, wrench herself out of whatever they were being sucked into, but Dewi commandeered all their joint magic to ward them.

“What’s happening?” She felt like screaming, but her mind voice sounded the same as it always did, not entirely barren of inflection, but almost.

“What do you think, child? Adva is moving us somewhere. Let’s hope it’s a larger space where I can maneuver a bit.”

“He can do that? Without even being present?”

“It’s their world. They can do whatever they like here and you’d be well-served not to forget it. Nidhogg couldn’t get away from them, even with all his magic.”

Desolation spread through her. If it was that hopeless, why not just give up? The black void shifted to gray and then to pallid, yellow lighting from smoking wall sconces, and a huge cavern formed around them.

“Are we still on the borderworld?” she asked Dewi, worried about Fionn and Rune.

After a long pause, the dragon said. “Yes. Probably beneath the fortress. All these places had dungeons, and— Shit! Things are going to get ugly fast. Give me access to your power. Now. And don’t distract me with questions.”

Aislinn tensed and stared out through the dragon’s eyes. The cave’s ceiling disappeared in darkness. The floor was dirt. Other than the smoldering torches, the space was devoid of furniture or ornamentation. “Can we teleport from here?” she asked

“I said no questions. Be quiet. Something’s coming. Can you feel it?” A quick intake of breath, and then, “If Adva dumped us here—and it pretty much has to be him—there’s no teleporting out of here until his scheme plays itself out.”

Aislinn’s sense of desolation deepened. It was all too much. There was no way they’d ever win. Why keep fighting? Just lie down and be done with it. Easier that way.

“Shield your mind,” Dewi hissed. “D’Chel is planting suggestions.”

Horror filled her, pushing despair aside.

I need to get angry. I should be pissed off as hell that slimebag invaded my thoughts.

But when she tried to shove him out, he just laughed at her. It gave her the incentive she needed. Riding fury’s coattails, she chivied him out and slammed her mental gates behind him. How the fuck had he gotten inside her mind in the first place? Must have happened before he left the bedchamber. Maybe he used the cut Perrikus had opened in her arm to send something into her body.

The thought creeped her out and she shivered, even inside Dewi’s warmth. The dragon tensed, and Aislinn did too. Whatever was coming would be easier to deal with now that her mind was her own again, and it was a hell of a relief to be shut of her despairing thoughts.

I cannot relax my guard. Nothing actually got better. We’re still trapped.

Maybe so, but if I go out, it will be in a blaze of glory, goddamnit.

Fiery portals burst into view, surrounding them. Demons poured from the gateways, looking just like the ones that had escaped from Hell next to Fionn’s house in Inishowen. Aislinn counted a dozen, but that was just in front of her. She felt their fell energy from behind as well.

“Can we kill them?” she shouted.

“Yes. They’re not like the dark gods. Any doubts I had about them joining forces with Abaddon just vanished. How else would they have imported Hell hordes here?”

Dewi sent magic spinning in a half circle. It incinerated everything it touched, but more demons waltzed through the portals. Six-and-a-half feet tall with cloven hooves, taloned hands, and fangs, they had eyes like old smoke and barbed tails they swung like whips. One struck the dragon’s side, and she bellowed in pain.

A rush of energy blasted them from behind, and demons hurtled onto Dewi’s back and dug their sharp talons into her scales. She screeched her outrage and charged toward a wall intent on scraping them off. Some fell, but not all, and she stomped on the ones scrambling to their feet in the dirt.

Demons closed from all sides. Dewi pounded them with fire and magic, but more kept coming, and they sent fire of their own right back. It didn’t bother the dragon, but the temperature inside her began to climb. If it got much hotter, Aislinn would have to leave or she’d incinerate. As it was, sweat poured down her and she was panting.

“Dewi, do something. It’s hot in here.”

“Nothing I can do. Gut it out. It’ll get hotter before we’re done.”

Demon bodies piled around them, but fresh atrocities just used them to try to leap onto the dragon. She’d learned from the first bunch, though, and managed to keep her back clear.

It was so hot inside the dragon, Aislinn felt consciousness slipping. She slapped a lid on her power, redirected it, and wrenched herself out of the dragon. Better to die on her feet than roasted to death, helpless.

“Told you it would work.” The sleazy tones of D’Chel’s honeyed voice grated against her ears. She flipped around to face him, magic at the ready, only to feel arms close around her from behind.

Perrikus.