Immediately, Tommy and Clara fired their revolvers. Amaranth laughed as she conjured up a shield, easily disintegrating the bullets.
Keeping one hand on Clara's arm, Eric muttered an incantation and thrust the scepter forward. A pale stream of magic shot towards Amaranth, and she threw up a hand to recast her shield. Eric's magic slammed into it and Amaranth stumbled back, struggling to maintain her magical protection. The shield shuddered at the force of Eric's blow, but it remained intact.
Slightly vexed that the corrupted magic had not broken beneath the scepter's, Eric shot another spell. At the same moment, Tommy and Rodolph (who had regained his revolver) fired at Amaranth. Panic flashed through the witch's eyes, and she added a second layer of magic to her shield, while simultaneously sending roots bursting through the floor to intercept the iron bullets.
"Do you pitiful humans truly think you can conquer me? With your iron and that pathetic wand you believe to be so powerful?" screeched Amaranth. Gone was the mocking amusement; now only rage, and a distinct touch of fear, radiated across her face. Her gaze snapped to Eric. "Once I extract every ounce of magic from your queen, I shall finish what I had started with you. Then I shall leave you beside her while your life drains out into the dark shadows of the caverns."
Eric clenched his jaw, twisting the scepter in his grip. But before he or Clara could send another attack, a root burst through the ground near Tommy's foot. It wrapped around his ankle, yanking him across the floor in Amaranth's direction. Eric and Clara spun around in alarm, and in their distraction a blast of Amaranth's magic struck them both, sending them sprawling. Eric slammed into the far wall, the impact stunning him as a smaller root yanked the scepter from his hand and tossed it across the room.
The revolver fell from Clara's grip as she crashed into a large wooden chest. Before she could orient herself, she felt a cold hand wrap around her throat and lift her. Choking at the fingers constricting around her neck, Clara stared down at Amaranth, shocked by the strength the seemingly frail witch possessed.
"What an unexpected find you are," Amaranth hissed, her voice throbbing with voracious desire for what Clara possessed. "I never thought I would taste this kind of magic again." She opened her mouth and began to inhale.
Clara pried at Amaranth's arm, but the wrinkled hand may as well have been made of stone. Desperate for air, Clara gasped, unintentionally opening her mouth to Amaranth's spell. Immediately, a rose-gold magic began to seep out from between her lips. It shone brightly in the dimness of the cave, and Amaranth's eyes widened with hunger as the magic flowed towards her.
A loud shot went off, echoing throughout the cave. Amaranth cried out in pained surprise, stumbling to the side at the impact of the bullet that embedded itself into her arm holding Clara. Her hand twitched violently, and Clara slipped through her loosened grip, collapsing to the floor. A second shot went off, striking Amaranth in the shoulder. She snarled viciously, swinging about.
Eric was striding towards her, his revolver raised and fury etched into his features.
Amaranth glanced down at the bullet wound in her arm. It was smoking, as was the wound in her shoulder. "You think that will kill me, little king?" she seethed.
"No." Eric cocked the revolver once more, never ceasing his advance on Amaranth. "But it will slow you down." He squeezed the trigger.
Amaranth threw herself to the side, barely missing the shot. Her reflexes seemed to have lagged, and Eric felt relief course through him at the visible confirmation that iron did have an effect on her. He fired again, and Amaranth arched her hand up, prompting a root to burst through the floor to intercept the bullet as she stumbled further back.
Eric rushed to Clara and slipped his arm beneath her shoulders, curving his body around her protectively as he kept his revolver trained on Amaranth. Clara leaned into Eric, massaging her throat as she sucked in ragged breaths.
"Are you alright?" Eric demanded, unable to conceal his panic for her.
Clara nodded. "Yes," she choked out. She reached up and grabbed Eric's sleeve, using him as an anchor as she tried to regain her footing.
Amaranth raised her hand to Eric and Clara, the root at her side mirroring the movement, ready to attack. "That is my magic," Amaranth slurred, anger searing her words. She lurched forward a step. "Give her to me."
Another shot went off, hitting into Amaranth's side and sending her staggering. The root next to her instantly collapsed, unable to be held up in the distraction.
Eric snapped his head around to see Tommy crouched on the ground, his revolver raised. Around Tommy's ankle were the remains of the root that had ensnared him, which he had hacked apart with his sword. Behind him, Rodolph was leaning against the room's wall and reloading his revolver.
Clara blinked, then looked down in her bag in realization. "Eric," she whispered, her voice hoarse from Amaranth's attack. "Let her come to us."
Eric flashed her a confused glance. In response, Clara flipped open her bag's flap and reached in, pulling up the magic-suffocating handcuffs for Eric to see, though they remained obscured from Amaranth's view. Understanding lit in Eric's eyes and he nodded.
Amaranth's head swayed back and forth like a drunkard's, betraying her waning strength. Yet she limped forward regardless. A mad sort of desire blazed in her eyes, blinding her to all else beside the aura radiating from Clara.
Eric glanced back at Tommy and held out his hand to stop him from firing. Tommy frowned, but he lowered his revolver and twisted around to stop Rodolph from raising his.
Once she was within arm's length of them, Clara thrust her hand into her bag. She drew out a handcuff and lunged forward, snapping it over one of Amaranth's thin wrists.
Amaranth cried out and crumpled to her knees, gasping as her magic was partially stifled. "What..." she choked out. "What is..." She clawed feebly at the cuff, confusion mingling with terrified rage.
Clara pulled out the second handcuff. Eric snatched out his hand and seized Amaranth's other wrist, dragging the witch forward so that Clara could secure her.
"You cannot..." spluttered Amaranth. "You cannot..." Her hand swiped at Clara clumsily, but Eric wrenched his wife out of the witch's reach.
"Tommy," urged Eric. "The scepter..."
Tommy nodded and ran to where the scepter had been flung; snatching it up, he quickly brought it to Eric. Eric grabbed it and swung it towards Amaranth, uttering an incantation.
"Seize the hand that clutches your gold,
Release not your prisoner until justice has taken hold."
Amaranth brought up her hand to ward off the blow of the scepter. The rod of it smacked against her palm, and her fingers reflexively curled around it. She tried to wrench it from Eric's grip, but was unable to do so in her weakened state. Growling in frustration, she attempted to open her hand.
But her hand did not obey her.
Amaranth frowned, yanking. Still, her hand did not unwrap itself from the scepter.
"Apologies for the discomfort," Eric said, glaring down at Amaranth. "But I can't have you breaking the connection while I relieve you of your magic."
Clara reached out and touched the tips of her fingers to Amaranth's frozen ones. The witch snapped her gaze to Clara's, and for a moment the two stared at each other. Then a great drowsiness overcame Amaranth's expression, brought on by Clara's magic, and she sunk to the ground in an unconscious heap.
Clara released a tired sigh, Eric echoing the sound. They stood and turned to face Tommy and Rodolph, who were approaching them. In Rodolph's hand was a walking staff he had pulled from a nearby junk pile, which he used for support as he shuffled across the room.
"Are you both alright?" asked Tommy.
"Yes," said Clara wearily. She looked at Eric. "Let's finish this. I don't want to stay here any longer than we need to."
Eric nodded and glanced towards the room's entrance. "There's a large tree in the room we had met Amaranth in," Eric explained to Clara. "I can transfer her magic into it. But I have no idea where we are in relation to that place."
"It was part of a passage leading into the caves from the outside," pointed out Tommy. "So if we can find the tunnel leading out of here, it should go straight through that room."
"I think I can get us to the right tunnel," said Clara thoughtfully. "That's what I seemed to be following earlier – a path out of here."
Rodolph smiled at her. "Lead the way, Your Majesty."
Clara led the group through the passageways, Rodolph by her side. Behind them, Eric and Tommy dragged along Amaranth's limp body, both looking rather disgusted at having to touch the witch.
"She smells terrible," grumbled Tommy.
Eric smirked, but he refrained from commenting.
Finally, after for walking for what felt like nearly an hour, the passage opened up into the familiar room. In the center of it stood the massive tree, its branches dripping with the silver leaves that glimmered in the green light. Eric eyed the roots hanging from the ceiling warily, but the plants remained still with no one to command them.
Eric and Tommy dropped Amaranth at the base of the tree, where its enormous roots weaved in and out of the ground like frozen waves. Clara unlocked the handcuffs from Amaranth's wrists, then stepped back with Tommy and Rodolph to give Eric some space.
Eric knelt and adjusted his grip on the scepter, holding it firmly between him and Amaranth. His other hand he placed against the trunk of the tree.
"Wait," said Clara suddenly. "I thought you were going to use the scepter as a conduit, not yourself."
"I am using it," said Eric. "But simply placing the tip of the scepter against the tree won't make a strong enough connection. My hand will."
Clara frowned. "Eric..."
"Its fine, Clara," assured Eric.
Clara and Tommy exchanged a nervous glance.
Eric bowed his head and closed his eyes. He decided to use a longer incantation, as they usually elicited more power, and he was unsure how much the scepter needed for this act. He spoke softly but firmly, pressing his hand harder against the tree with each word.
"Take back what has been stolen, draw out the infection,
Return the magic to the earth, mend the torn connection;
Cage the rot and sickness, keep it hidden away,
Relinquish it not to others, never to be seen again by the light of day."
As the final word died on his lips, a golden glow emanated from the scepter. It traveled down both ends, leaking onto Amaranth and Eric's arms and engulfing the limbs in magic
For a long moment, nothing seemed to be happening.
Then.
"Look," whispered Tommy in horrified awe.
Amaranth was changing. Her wrinkles were becoming more pronounced, and multiplying. Her skin grew more gray and thin-looking, stretching tight over her jaw and cheekbones. She seemed to be...shrinking in on herself, her body shriveling as the stolen magic was drawn out of her.
The tree was changing too. As the contaminated magic entered it, the bark began to rot, softening and darkening to a greenish black. And the branches, no longer able to hold themselves up, drooped to the floor.
The silver leaves blackened, oozing like sludge onto the ground. One of the globs landed on Tommy's arm, and he staggered back in disgust, wiping at the reeking mess.
Eric remained motionless, not reacting as leaves dripped down onto his back. His face was pale, the muscles in his neck taut as he strained to maintain the connection between Amaranth and the tree.
"Eric," said Clara. "Eric, that's enough."
He did not respond.
"Eric," repeated Clara. She knelt beside him and gripped his left arm. But she did not dare try to pull him away, afraid of what may happen if she broke the connection before Eric was ready. "Eric, stop."
/
He hadn't heard her at first. He had been too focused on keeping the connection strong, on leading the polluted magic across the scepter, through his body, and into the tree. But it was a draining process, and Eric could feel the magic stripping away his strength and energy as it passed through him, snatching it up like a thief slipping through a crowd.
But he couldn't stop. Not until every drop of magic was out of Amaranth.
"Eric."
Clara.
Relief brushed against him at her voice, a warm reprieve from the magic rendering him so very tired.
"Eric, you have to stop," insisted Clara.
He shook his head. "No," he said, his voice strained. "Not until it's all out."
"You'll kill yourself," said Clara frantically. "Your body can't sustain this much distorted magic passing through it."
Eric's right arm trembled as it pressed against the tree, the pain throbbing through it excruciating. He gritted his teeth, his chest heaving as he struggled for breath. Almost there. It's almost done.
"Stop," said Clara. "Eric, stop."
"Eric." Another voice. Rodolph's. "Clara's right. You must stop."
"I can't," heaved out Eric. "If there's the slightest bit of magic left in her..."
He wouldn't allow it. He would not make the same mistake he had with Vogt. He let Vogt roam free in exile, and that decision had nearly cost him Clara's life.
He would be a fool to leave any amount of magic in Amaranth, no matter how small. He would allow there to be no possibility of Amaranth returning. He would not risk Clara's safety.
Or Marie's.
They had yet to determine whether Marie had inherited her mother's talents. There had been no obvious signs so far, but she was still young. Clara had pointed out that the magic could skip generations, but Eric had a feeling that it wouldn't with Marie. And risking not only his wife's, but his daughter's life was something he was not willing to do.
"Eric, that's enough," said Clara, her voice trembling with desperation. "She's no longer a threat. Look at her."
He did. He forced his eyes open, and glanced down at what was left of the witch.
Her skin was little more than a mass of wrinkles. Her cheeks were hollowed out, and her eyes had sunken back into her head. It was a grotesque sight, but still not enough. He could still feel the lingering traces of magic in Amaranth.
"You're killing yourself, Eric. Stop," begged Clara. "Marie needs you. You cannot do this to her. Think of your daughter."
He was. He was thinking of her. That's why he had to continue. He wanted to explain that to Clara, but he no longer felt capable of speech.
Clara tightened her grip on Eric's arm. "Please, Eric."
It was so hard to get air into his lungs. So hard to think. Everything felt so heavy, as though there was a great weight pressing down on him from within. He blinked, trying to focus his blurry gaze. It only seemed to worsen, darkening at the edges.
There.
He felt it. The final wisps of magic being pulled from Amaranth. They flowed through the scepter and into his left arm, seeping through his body. He groaned, shuddering as the magic dribbled down his right arm and into the tree.
Eric…
Clara.
Eric, break it…
Break the connection.
Yes. Break it. He could do that. He frowned, focusing on his hands. One was wrapped around a rod of cool metal. The other was pressed against the slimy bark of a tree.
Break it.
He focused on the link connecting him to the scepter and the tree. Break it. Dissipate the magic.
Break it now!
With a pained gasp, he ripped his hand away from the tree. Simultaneously he dropped the scepter, the thud as it tumbled to the ground muffled to his ears.
He felt his body sway, then begin to pitch forward. But someone caught him before he could strike the ground, pulling him against their chest. His head fell into the crook of their neck, and was held in place by a hand.
"Eric," pleaded a woman's voice. "Eric, open your eyes."
He couldn't. He was too tired. The exhaustion seizing his body was suffocating.
Then a mouth pressed against his. Lips softer than he could have thought possible, wet with the salt of tears.
Clara.
The drowsy fog in his mind faded slightly. The dryness of his throat reduced enough for him to swallow properly, and the pain in his arms ebbed into a dull ache. But even Clara's magic seemed unable to rebuild all that the infected magic had taken. He sagged against her once they broke apart, breathing heavily.
He could feel her trembling. He wished he could embrace her, reassure her, but his arms refused to obey him. "Clara..." he finally managed, his words slurred. "It's alright..."
/
It's alright. It's alright. She repeated the words to herself over and over, trying to calm her nerves.
There was the sound of dirt and bark crunching beneath footsteps, and she looked up to see Tommy approach.
Tommy grimaced as he studied Eric. "Can't you give him one of those lemon drops?" he asked.
Clara shook her head. "I already gave him some of my magic. I just...I don't think putting any more into his body is a wise idea at the moment. I don't know how much more he can handle."
Tommy nodded, then gestured to the tree. "Clara, we can't stay in here. The tree..."
Clara followed her brother's gaze to the revolting sight. The tree had completely decayed. It was little more than a mass of blackened bark now, completely destroyed by the infection of the stolen magic. Fear tore through her. If it had done that to the tree, what had it done to Eric while passing through him?
"We can't keep breathing in this dirty air," said Tommy. "We have to get outside."
Clara looked at her hands. They were sticky, covered in slime from the rotted leaves that had fallen onto Eric's back. Some had landed on her as well, blanketing them both in a foul stench. She turned her attention back to Eric, who was leaning heavily against her.
"Eric," cajoled Clara. "Eric, love, get up." Shifting, she tucked her hands beneath his arms. She tugged at him, but he was too heavy for her to lift on her own.
He tried. But his boots slipped against the damp floor, and his legs trembled from the effort of trying to support himself. He groaned, clinging weakly to Clara. "Clara, I can't," he whispered.
"Tommy," urged Clara. "Tommy, help me get him up."
Eric mumbled a protest, but Clara and Tommy ignored it. Tommy made his way to Eric's left side and took Eric's arm, wrapping it around his neck. Together, he and Clara stood, lifting Eric between them.
Rodolph ambled over, the clicking of his staff echoing softly throughout the cave. "If fortune is merciful, perhaps our horses will still be waiting for us outside." He bent and picked up the scepter.
Tommy nodded adamantly; the idea of them hobbling back to Mapletown on foot was a harrowing one. "Let's go," he said.
It turned out that their horses had stayed in the ravine. Rodolph's horse, by far the most mild-mannered of the three, had remained fairly close to the cave entrance. Eric and Tommy's, though, had wandered father down Raven's Pass. Tommy offered to retrieve them, insisting that Clara and Rodolph stay with Eric.
When Tommy returned with the horses, it only took him one look to know that Eric would not be able to stay awake for much longer. But they could not remain in the infected part of Raven's Pass – the danger of inhaling even the outside air was something Tommy did not want to risk.
Clara wanted to ride with Eric, but Tommy insisted on her going with him. Though not as drained as Eric, she was visibly worn out from the extensive use of her magic. She needed sleep, and Tommy could support her while they rode. Clara was not pleased with this, but she could not deny the logic of the decision. After Tommy helped Rodolph and Eric into their saddles, he swung up behind Clara on his horse.
They set out for Mapletown, eager to distance themselves from Raven's Pass. Barley a quarter of an hour had passed before Eric's consciousness ebbed completely. He remained slumped against his horse's neck for the next many hours, with Tommy leading Eric's horse beside his own. By the time twilight fell, Clara had fallen asleep as well, leaning back against her brother's chest.
They rode through the night. When they reached the outskirts of Mapletown, the first rays of dawn were peaking over the distant mountains, touching the scarlet and gold leaves of the maple trees with a welcoming warmth. Tommy hurried the group through the streets as quickly as possible, wanting to get them indoors before morning stragglers noticed them.
Rodolph had, surprisingly, stayed awake for the entirety of the return journey. The wrinkles fanning out from the corners of his eyes were more pronounced from his lack of sleep, but he seemed determined to keep a close watch on his king and queen as he rode beside them.
Once they reached Tommy's flat, which lay closer to the center of Mapletown, Clara began to wake.
"We're here," Tommy said to her quietly. He dismounted and helped his sister down, waiting until he was sure she could stand on her own before releasing her.
"Eric..." she murmured groggily. "Where..."
"I'll get him," assured Tommy.
He managed to rouse Eric enough for him to dismount his horse. But he was far too weak to stand on his own, and Eric ended up needing Tommy's support to remain upright.
"I'll take the horses to the stables," said Rodolph.
"Are you sure?" asked Tommy.
A small smile touched Rodolph's mouth. "I have enough strength for that."
Tommy shrugged. "Alright, if you want to. The stables are around back. My flat's on the top floor, at the end of the hall on the right."
Rodolph nodded, then gathered up the horses' reins and led them away.
Slowly, the three of them ascended to the top floor of the building. Upon entering the small flat, Tommy brought Eric to his bedroom, with Clara close behind. Light-headed from walking up the stairs, Eric sunk onto the bed, his eyelids drooping shut in weariness.
"Tommy," said Clara. "You don't need to give up your room for us. There's a sofa in the parlor –"
Tommy snorted. "Right, because I'm going to make Eric sleep on that in his condition." He shook his head at Clara, giving her a look of mingled exasperation and affection. Eased by the soft teasing in her brother's eyes, Clara could not help a grateful smile.
"I'm going to get some food," said Tommy, moving past Clara. "He has to eat. You both do." He paused. "Clara, I know he's...beyond exhausted. But we all need to wash off whatever we got splattered by when that tree decayed. I don't know exactly what it is, but it can't be good. He will get sick if he doesn't clean it off."
Clara glanced uneasily at Eric, who looked like he had fallen asleep again. Along with the black slime, dirt and grime coated his skin, hair, and clothes. The unpleasant, rotten scent that had infected Amaranth's land clung to all of them, making Clara queasy now that she was coherent enough to notice it.
"Help me get him into the washroom," said Clara. She bent and gently shook Eric's shoulder. "Eric. Darling, I'm sorry, but you can't sleep just yet."
Eric's eyes fluttered back open, struggling to focus in his daze. Clara gave him a sympathetic look and eased her arm beneath his shoulders, helping him sit up. He groaned as he dragged himself to the edge of the bed, his arms trembling at the effort.
"I'm sorry," whispered Clara. "But we can't leave you in those clothes. You have to wash off."
Though he looked like he wanted to protest, Eric nodded.
They managed to get him to the washroom with little difficulty. Tommy helped fill the tub, then left them alone, accompanying Rodolph in the kitchen to prepare some much-needed food.
The warm water of the tub certainly made a difference. Though still on verge of sleep, Eric seemed to regain some of his cognizance as Clara helped wash the grime from his body. The process took longer than Clara had been expecting, and by the time they were both clean of the filth, the tub's waters had turned into a disgusting murky gray.
Rodolph brought up the traveling packs that had been tied to the horses' saddles. However, Tommy warned against using any of the clothes in them until they had been thoroughly washed, as the bags had spent the past day soaking up the toxic air of Raven's Pass.
So instead Tommy gave Eric some of his clothes to wear. They were a bit too small, but not enough to be uncomfortable. Clara also borrowed a nightshirt and breeches from Tommy, as it was still a few hours until any shops opened in Mapletown that they could buy her a dress from. She did not seem to mind, though she was vastly grateful that Rodolph made an effort to occupy himself in the kitchen to give her privacy as she crossed from the washroom back into the bedroom.
Feeling much better now that she was clean, Clara settled onto the edge of the bed. Eric was lying in it, but he seemed determined not to fall asleep, forcing his eyes back open whenever they began to close.
Clara smiled at him. "Stop fighting it, Eric. It's alright, I won't go anywhere."
He swallowed, willing his tongue to work as he tried to speak. "Marie...we should send a message to her..."
"I will," promised Clara, kissing his brow. She ran her fingers back through his hair, the dark strands still wet with bathwater. "But you need to sleep, Eric."
"I want to see Marie..." he insisted faintly. "Make sure she's alright. Perhaps Elizabeth..."
She rested her temple against his cheek. "I will ask Elizabeth to bring Marie here; you are no condition to travel back to the castle."
"I'll b'fine," muttered Eric. "Just need a few hours of rest..."
Clara shook her head, amusement pricking the edges of her worry. "If you're going to insist on partaking in life-threatening exploits, then you have to deal with the consequences. Sleep."
He gave her a faded smile. His hand twitched, as though to reach up for Clara. But he seemed incapable of even that small act, and settled for letting her continue to caress him. With Clara combing her fingers through his hair, and the ache of his body lessened by the warm bath, he fell asleep within seconds.
Satisfied, Clara kissed his forehead once more. Then she left the room to ask Tommy for paper, so she could write to her aunt.