Page 41 of Bane of the Wild Hunt

My perception of the witch had sharpened now that we were in her world, but she was still far away. I closed my eyes again, my hand still on my uncle as I quickly formed another portal. Now that I was much closer, my precision with my portalling was much easier.

This time we emerged onto barren rock partway up a mountain. I knew instantly why a coven of fire witches would settle in this place when I sensed the deep veins of fire, a dormant volcano, sleeping deep in the mountain. Even Carrick drew in a deep breath, sensing the inferno below that beckoned our magic.

I had to work harder to narrow my focus despite our proximity to the witch. Her scent was growing faint and the nearness of so much fire power was overwhelming.

“She is in the mountain. Deep,” I advised my uncle, releasing his arm so I could brace myself to draw on all that heat under my boots. The earth trembled in response, awakening readily and yielding itself gladly to me, but I had to be careful not to awaken the volcano.

I channelled, directing all that energy into an endless stream of fire as tall as I was which drilled relentlessly through rock and stone. It was so hot that it made even our aes sídhe flesh uncomfortable, and Carrick had to step back with an arm raised over his eyes.

Within moments, I had delved deep into the earth and felt my magic slam up against the wards below that had prevented me from portalling straight into Nuala’s prison. I inhaled deeply of the air that was wavering around me from the heat and drew even more power. The earth quaked now under the strain, dislodging rocks around us that tumbled down the mountainside. Some hit a shield that Carrick erected quickly around us to protect us from the onslaught. Birds cried out as they took flight.

I focused my fire even harder until it finally punctured the ward with a resounding pop that made the mountain shake even harder. Larger stones bounded toward us and collided with Carrick’s shield, bouncing harmlessly aside.

My shadow magic was already seeping out of my pores in a heavy mist that rolled down the shaft. It was ravenous after Sage’s theft the night before and quickly absorbed all the residual magic that was bleeding from the ruptured ward. I drank it down until my joints ached from the excess of it in my veins.

Once I had consumed the last of the magic, it was all too easy to thrust my fire power through the final metres of stone and into the cavern below.

I took a moment to allow the heat to cool in my veins, and my shadows to return to me. Then I summoned a cold burst of Darragh’s wind magic down the tunnel which sucked out all the heat until I could comfortably step into the shaft. The walls were all so precisely cut that they appeared almost glassy.

“Impressive,” remarked Carrick, clapping me once on the shoulder after he followed me into the tunnel.

The incline was steep and a little treacherous because of the smoothness of the tunnel under our boots, but we soon reached the bottom. I found myself standing once again in that underground hallway that was roughly hewn from rock. It had been damp and cold before, but now it was humid from the heat of my fire evaporating the water. Some of the iron brackets supporting lanterns had melted, and the torches lay on the ground as I stepped into the hallway. Thankfully, the oppressive magic that had dulled my power in the dream was gone after I consumed it.

I turned to my right and saw the familiar wall of dark at the end of the corridor just like in my dream.

“Stay close,” I ordered my uncle and grabbed one of the torches off the wall with my gloved hand.

I strode down the hall, my steps heavier and echoing more loudly now that I was fully dressed in my armour. Every clink of my sword, every creak of leather bindings, and every rasp of bone plating grated on my nerves.

I reached the stairwell as I had before and raised the light in my hand to see the steps as I descended this time without hesitation. The blackness was still dense as if my power had not dissuaded whatever ancient magic guarded this chamber. I heard again the steady drip of water along with the new rhythm of Carrick’s steps behind me as we reached the small room at the bottom.

My attention had not lingered before, but now my head was jerked aside by the pungent scents here. I held up my light to the right and saw a table in the middle of the room with five iron brackets meant for restraint. They glinted in the firelight, covered in blood, and the worn wood around them was stained with both old and new bodily fluids. Blood. Urine. Feces. And semen.

“Sweet Elements,” hissed Carrick, his voice muffled in his hand, but I did not reply. My eyes had strayed up to the walls and the vast array of primitive devices there that were all meant for some form of torture or another.

It felt like the fire reignited quietly in my blood before I turned forward and faced the stone archway with heavy iron bars. My light still would not pierce the darkness beyond where I knew Nuala would be waiting.

“Nuala?” I called, and my voice seemed to offend the inexorable silence. It screamed back at me with an eerily voiceless bellow that reverberated against my eardrums.

There was no other reply from the dark.

“Nuala!” I shouted in defiance of the silence that felt like it wanted to smother me.

Still nothing.

“It smells of such pain… and lust,” Carrick remarked, his voice catching as if he wanted to be sick.

His implication made a hot sensation prickle over my scalp and tingle down my spine.

I lifted my torch and slotted it in the iron bracket next to the barred entrance. Then I removed both gauntlets and dismissed them back to where my armour usually stayed before wrapping my hands around the bars. The iron burned my fey skin, and I could sense the fire magic in them before it heated hot enough to sear human hands, but mine were impervious to it.

I fed them a little of my own magic, ignoring the pain of the iron as I overloaded the bars until the metal began to melt and trickle over my fingers. I repeated this with the next two bars to make an opening large enough for me to get through them.

“Rian! You don’t know what kind of magic has been cast upon this place! You might not be able to get out!” Carrick objected, but I had already slipped into the cell.

I hesitated, overwhelmed by the stench of excrement, rotting hay, blood, and unwashed body. I tried to summon my magic to my palm and illuminate my surroundings, but whatever darkness thrived in this place made using my magic feel like trying to lift a boulder. I could have overpowered it, but I had the feeling it would cost more energy than I wanted to use. Especially since I may need it to defend us before this rescue mission was over. But it was highly disconcerting to be blinded. My fey eyes had rarely ever failed me, and whenever they did, I was always able to summon light and warmth.

But not here.

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