“Kara, stop,” he said, voice weary. “I felt each as it died in the fire. Now, at least, I know it was for Elinor and not the machinations of an enemy.”
His gold-green eyes seemed to dull, reflecting the depth of his loss. I couldn’t help but wonder what the discs were for, but this wasn’t anywhere near the right moment to ask.
He withdrew his hands, and I sighed in relief as the heat faded. I turned my hand over to see a perfectly unblemished palm. “Thank you,” I said in complete sincerity just as Tandon sprinted up with the journal.
Szerain climbed to his feet with the help of Turek then accepted the journal. “Having this simplifies matters tremendously. Without it, I’d still be able to make the essence transfer, but it would be more risky and take far longer. Come, we have no time to waste.” He stepped off the slab and staggered. Turek leaped to steady him before he toppled.
“Wait, where are you going?” I asked. “Aren’t you going to use the nexus?”
“No, we can’t do it here,” Szerain said. “We need to go to the valve by your pond.”
“But it’s thick with rakkuhr there.”
He flashed a grin, made more rakish by the blood on his face. “Exactly.”
Giovanni clutched Elinor to him. “How can we trust Szerain to do what he promises?” His voice wavered between grief and anger. “He slew Elinor before my eyes!”
Szerain’s grin dropped away as he faced Giovanni. “Yes, but only to save her. Does she not rest in your arms even now? I swear that I can and will explain all, but first we must get to the valve, else we risk Xharbek taking her from you forever.”
Giovanni’s anger gave way to sullen acceptance.
With Turek’s help, Szerain made for the edge of the woods at a fast clip while Giovanni stayed right on his heels. I followed, but not before seeing Rhyzkahl standing tense and rigid with frustration at his exclusion.
Silvery moonlight pierced the canopy, casting ample illumination for us to follow the trail through the woods. The pathway opened up on the pond clearing, where rakkuhr undulated in foot-high coils of red and black, and a Jontari kehza basked in the water as if it was his personal spa.
Szerain headed straight for the arcane valve
without giving the demon so much as a glance.
“Giovanni, sit here and hold Elinor,” Szerain ordered, pointing at a grassy spot a couple of feet from the valve. “Kara, you sit facing them.”
Rakkuhr floated toward me as I settled on the ground. I shoved it away in distaste. “Do I need to hold her hand or anything?”
“No, I’ll take care of making the connections when it’s time.” He remained standing, the third vertex of a triangle. Turek crouched behind him, nearly invisible in the gloom.
The air pressure seemed to drop. The rakkuhr ceased its random undulations and began to flow toward Szerain, swirling around his legs and torso, more and more and increasing in speed until he stood at the center of a rakkuhr tornado that flashed red and black.
He thrust a hand up, and the rakkuhr shot skyward like a beacon. A dozen feet up it seemed to hit an invisible wall and spread downward, as if coating the inside of an unseen globe.
Gobsmacked, I watched as the rakkuhr resolved into an exquisite lacework, passing through the ground to form a sphere with us at the center.
The rakkuhr tornado died down to a slow whirlpool around Szerain’s calves and feet. The lace-sphere began a slow vertical rotation. A measure of tension left Szerain.
“That buys us time,” he said with a crooked smile.
“It’s a shield?” I asked.
“Among other things,” he replied. “The rakkuhr will keep any demahnk interference at bay until we’re finished.” All trace of humor left him as his gaze went to Giovanni. “I had mere heartbeats to make a decision and act to save her.” Emotion rippled through his voice.
Around Szerain, the lazy whirl of rakkuhr began to pick up speed, though not as fierce a tornado as before. Once again he lifted a hand, and the rakkuhr spun up and out to form a second lace-sphere a hairsbreadth within the first. It flashed in dangerous beauty as he set it rotating, this time horizontally.
“Kara, read Elinor’s last journal entry.” Szerain began a third sphere, drawing rakkuhr from the valve like silk from a spider’s butt.
I fumbled the journal open and flipped to the last page with writing, then peered at it in confusion. I’d skimmed all of her entries, but I had no memory of this one.
“It was her final entry,” Szerain said, “and deeply personal. I protected it in memoriam to her.” He paused. “But she needs to hear it now. Read.”
I cleared my throat self-consciously. “I am not loath to admit that my skills with the arcane astound no one,” I began. “I am competent enough, but my passion lies with my illustrations of the demon realm flora and fauna. Lord Szerain knows this, and therefore I will trust he has reasons and knowledge beyond my ken that justify his decision to partner with me for the ritual. I dare not be uncertain. My will must be resolute.