Page 41 of Earth Dragon
“Why are you here?” Ewan demanded.
“Ah, yes, that,” Sir Patrick said. “I was just about to answer that question when you so rudely interrupted us, wasn’t I, my lady?”
Ewan frowned, then looked over at Shannon, who stood crestfallen and forlorn at the edge of the central circle. For a second, she seemed to hover there, in between standing within it and without it, and the impression it gave him was close to overwhelming.
He did not know her.
He never did.
“Patrick,” she said, reproach there, as though there were things that she did not want him to share.
Ewan looked back at Patrick, then let him go with one final shove against the tree trunk. His frustration was mounting where mere minutes ago he had been wrapped in such pleasure. It was jarring.
“You knew he was here?” Ewan asked Shannon. “How long?”
“Just now. Tonight. Before you found me,” Shannon said. “I swear—”
“Oh, I think that’s quite enough of swearing out of you,” Ewan cut her off.
“I assure you the lady had no idea I was here before I approached her,” Sir Patrick said. “And I only just arrived,” he added.
“For what?” Ewan asked.
“For the fireworks,” Sir Patrick said. “The ones meant to go off as a signal that the dismantling of the bloodlines has succeeded.”
“You’ve already failed,” Ewan shook his head. “You can’t possibly believe you can stand against the elemental magics when they have rejected your interference?”
“No,” Sir Patrick nodded, eyes drifting to Shannon. “But we can trap them.”
Shannon stared at him, and Ewan could tell that she didn’t know what Sir Patrick was talking about.
“What?” she asked. “What do you mean?”
“It’s the oldest trick in the book,” Sir Patrick said. “Make everyone look to the left while you’re busy with something nefarious on the right.”
“Spit it out,” Ewan exclaimed, a shiver running up his spine that was tingling with misgivings.
“I have spent a year searching for what I’m about to tell you. I have come unarmed in the hopes that you will hear me.”
“I am hearing you,” Ewan said with a glare at the man. “Speak.”
Sir Patrick looked between them, then gave a nod.
“I have learned that the magical interference which has occurred at every moment of transference—or, in Malcolm’s case, during the moment when the elemental magic fused itself with his blood and accepted him as its vessel—each instance contained a preparation spell. It’s why the elemental magics, after those first two failed attempts at ripping them from their Keepers, stepped in to defend themselves through Malcolm. Through him they were able to fuse themselves together and channeled directly through a vessel to defeat the interference.”
“Only, it failed,” Ewan said slowly.
Sir Patrick nodded.
“So, it was always about this final transference?” Shannon asked.
“No,” Sir Patrick admitted freely. “Any moment could have spelled the doom of the bloodlines and begun their unraveling. But as a safeguard, a final resort, this plan was put in place. And for it to work it had to be done during the final transference—whichever House would end up hosting it—and the preparation spells all would have had to have been spoken to their completion at every other transference. Which they have been, in case you’re wondering.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Ewan asked.
“Because gold can’t get rid of the bitter taste of dishonor,” Sir Patrick replied. “I lost myself somewhere along the way. This past year… Let’s just say I found myself again. I took the oath of a knight. I am sworn to serve and protect the realms of the four kingdoms or die trying. Here’s hoping it doesn’t have to come to that.”
“You should hang for treason,” Ewan growled.
