Page 174 of Mountain of Mirrors and Starlight
“Beau!” she hissed. “Can you cast a darkness spell?”
Beau stopped firing, only for a moment. “Right now?”
No. Not right now. Because she still needed to figure out how to get everyone out of here. Through the castle was out of the question. Beau likely couldn’t keep up the spell for that long, and, blind or not, dozens of heavily armed soldiers were headed towards them. Everyone else would be blinded.
Think, think.
Something brushed against her ankle. Aislinn looked down, and realised half the castle was coated in thick, tangled ivy. Not quite like the vines at home—but close enough.
It was nature, it was a plant, it was part of Faerie.
And she was the future queen.
She grabbed Caer’s arm and held him over the railing, whispering the vision spell in his eyes. It would not hurt to have at least one more person see where they were going. “Come with me,” she said.
Caer didn’t question it. She pushed him away from her.
“Now!” she hissed to Beau.
His fire ceased. He took a long, deep breath, closing his eyes.
“Nox,”he whispered.
A dark, glittering cloud swept over every light, covering the gardens, the balcony, the entire castle, in thick, palpable blackness.
Aislinn could still see, just. She could see the soldiers tripping over one another, the courtiers below shrieking and running for cover, scrambling about as if the dark were a monster.
Aislinn summoned her reserves of magic, and commanded the ivy to bend to her will. It wrapped around Caer’s middle first, directing him to the ground. He held out his hands as Beau directed the others into the arms of the waiting vines, despite a few muffled protests. Finally, Aislinn grabbed Beau and they leapt down themselves, rolling onto the dense, soft ground.
“Hold onto each other!” she barked. “Follow us!”
They formed a line, guiding their blinded comrades through the dark. Venus could be heard far behind them, shrieking into the blackness.
“Stop them! Stop them, they are getting away!”
Only Aeron turned towards them. He ignited his own fireball, but Aislinn rose up a bank of earth to greet it, ushering the others onwards until they reached the walls. She and Beau dove into the rock like it was made of putty, clawing it apart until there was space enough to force the others through it, and closed it up behind them as best they could.
Beau’s darkness spell had extended in the streets of Avalinth, but it was spotting at the edges, growing murky like pond water. They raced forwards, hardly knowing where they were going. The Deep? No, too obvious, too closed in. Back to the gates? To Acanthia? Too obvious. They had no mounts. Their enemies would soon catch up to them.
“Wait!” Luna cried, voice trembling. “We have to go back—Dillon!”
Dillon. Aislinn could have kicked herself. Dillon, sitting in the palace stables, likely wondering what on earth was going on.
“No,” said Minerva. “We can’t go back there. Not yet. It’s too dangerous, but he’ll be fine. You heard my sister—she didn’t even know about him. He’ll be safe there for a while. We won’t.”
Luna took a deep, shuddering breath, but said nothing. Her large eyes blinked in the murky dark. “All right,” she said, sounding the least ‘all right’ Aislinn had ever heard a person be.
“Where are we going?” asked Flora. “I hope someone has an idea.”
“Downtown,” Minerva announced. “We’ll find an abandoned building to squat in. Hopefully our fae friends can summon up a few spells to keep us concealed there—because they will come looking. Come on. It’s still a fair walk.”
Thankfully, most of the streets were clear as the party made their way to the downtown area Minerva described. Unlike the market area, these streets were near deserted at this hour, and the few people out kept to themselves. Bell located a tumbling-down townhouse and picked the lock, the party shuffling inside and collapsing in a pile on the floor as Beau sealed it again with magic and drew out protection symbols over the boundaries.
The actions around everything went unnoticed by Caer. His breath was tight in his throat, his thoughts muddled and hazy. Exhaustion pooled into his marrow.
He took a brief look around the house. Most of the downstairs was taken up by a single room. The furniture remaining was broken or threadbare, belongings scattered over the floor. Empty boxes, smashed pots, faded paper and torn books. Little to aid them.
What had justhappened?
