Emotions tangled sickeningly within Clara as she ran. Fury at herself for letting Eric go in the first place. Anger at Eric for coming up with such a foolhardy plan, and for not thinking of the consequences more thoroughly. Fear – horrible, gut-wrenching fear – for him, and for the men that had accompanied him.
Dread, at what she was supposed to tell Marie if she was too late, and Eric was already…
She shoved the thought from her mind.
"Walther!" Clara shouted, rushing towards the figure walking down the corridor ahead of her. "Walther!"
Walther spun around, alarm on his face at Clara's frantic voice. "Clara, what is it? Are you alright?"
"Elizabeth," Clara asked breathlessly, coming to a stop. "Where is Aunt Elizabeth? Have you seen her? I need to speak with her, immediately."
"Well, yes," said Walther hesitantly, staring at Clara in concern. "She told me she was going to the owlery. But what –"
Clara was already rushing past him.
"Clara!"
Then she was gone, racing around the corner and out of sight.
The castle had acquired an owlery once Elizabeth had permanently moved into the castle. She had been using owls for an increasing variety of tasks in the more recent years, but there had been no place to put them when Clara asked Elizabeth to stay at the castle. Eric pointed out that the eastern tower hadn't been in use for years, so he suggested that they make it into an owlery.
Now, the time it took to ascend the stairs leading to the owlery seemed longer than Clara ever remembered. By the time she burst through the tower door, Clara was light-headed from the terror whirling inside of her.
Elizabeth, who had been feeding the owls, turned sharply at the sound of the door banging open. "What in heaven's name –"
"Elizabeth!" cried Clara, rushing forward. "Aunt Elizabeth please, you must help me." She grasped her aunt's hands. "Tell me you know a transportation spell. Please tell me you know of one."
"A transportation spell?" repeated Elizabeth in confusion. "Why ever would you need a..." Realization flickered over her expression, followed by alarm. "Eric."
Clara nodded, tears pricking her eyes. "I was such a fool, Aunt Elizabeth. I should never have agreed to let him go without me." She tightened her grip on Elizabeth. "He has magic inside of him, leftover from the curse. Hoffmann says it's very little, but it's enough to make him a target of Amaranth." Clara let out a choked sound of desperation. "I must find him, Aunt Elizabeth. And his men."
Elizabeth swallowed. Then she set her jaw determinedly. "Come," she said, pulling her niece towards the owlery's door.
They hurried back down the stairs.
"We should have known," groaned Clara, misery coursing through her. "How could Eric and I have not considered such a possibility?"
It wasn't as if she and Eric weren't aware of the lingering effects of the curse. The most prominent was his arm, which – fortunately – did not bother him often. Apparently he tired more easily than before as well, but that assessment was solely based off of Eric's opinion. As Clara had not known him before his curse, she had no basis for her own judgment. Other than that, there were no other major effects that they could discern as being leftover from the enchantment.
She never would have thought that there could have been actual magic still inside of him. And even then, to think that it would invoke the hunger of a maceri witch?
"This is not the fault of either of you," said Elizabeth, but her voice was strained.
Clara glanced at Elizabeth, and her heart ached at the fear on her aunt's face. Though Elizabeth's affection was of a much more motherly nature, it was no secret how much she loved Eric.
"But it is," said Clara. "I should never have agreed to come back to the castle. I should have insisted that –"
They turned the corner of the corridor they were sprinting down – only for Clara to nearly run into Marie.
"Marie!" exclaimed Clara, stumbling to a stop.
"Mama!" Marie staggered back in surprise, her eyes wide. "Aunt Elizabeth!" She frowned at her mother and great-aunt's flustered expressions. "What's wrong?"
Clara tried to sidestep around her daughter. "Marie, I need you to go find Walther. Elizabeth and I have something important to tend to, but you and Walther can continue yesterday's lessons while we –"
Marie grabbed Clara's hand, sensing the apprehension radiating off her mother. "What is it?" Fear settled into her expression. "It's Papa, isn't it?"
Clara froze, staring at Marie.
"He's in trouble," pressed Marie. "Isn't he?"
"What makes you say that?" asked Clara suspiciously.
Marie bit her lip. "I..."
Clara narrowed her eyes. "Marie, why do you say that?"
Marie released her mother and took a step back, guilt flashing over her face.
"Marie," said Elizabeth. "Did someone tell you that your father was in trouble?"
"I..." Marie swallowed. Her gaze flitted anxiously between the two. "Mama, I'm sorry."
"Oh Marie, you didn't." Clara reached out and grasped Marie's shoulders. "Tell me the truth. Did you go down to the dungeons?"
Tears welled in Marie's eyes. "I'm sorry." Her words turned panicked as she tried to defend herself. "But I had to know where Papa had gone! I had to! And that man said he knew."
Clara tightened her grip on Marie. There was an undeniable spark of anger at her daughter's disobedience – especially when such an act could have brought harm to Marie – but it was overpowered by fear of what Vogt may have told her. "Marie, what did he say to you? Did he say why your papa is in danger?"
"N-no," stuttered Marie. She blubbered out a sob, confused and frightened by the unknown danger her father was in, and her mother's sharp tone. "No, he just said that Papa should have come back with you. That he...he was going to get himself killed." She heaved another sob. "I'm sorry, Mama!"
Clara sighed, her vexation waning in the wake of Marie's distress. "Oh, Marie." She pulled Marie into an embrace. "We're going to set this right," she whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of her daughter's head.
Marie nodded into Clara's dress, unable to stop the tears that dripped down her cheeks.
Reluctantly, Clara pulled away. As much as she wished she could stay with Marie, Eric could not wait. "Marie, love," said Clara, wiping at the tear stains on Marie's face. "I know that you are worried about your papa, and I'm sorry that I couldn't be more honest with you about his whereabouts. But that does not give you the right to disobey me, especially when concerning someone as dangerous as Vogt." She gave Marie a stern look. "When I come back, we will discuss this more thoroughly."
Hope flickered through the despair in Marie's eyes. "You're going after Papa?"
"Yes."
"So he really is in danger."
Clara laid a hand against Marie's cheek, her expression strained. "Yes." She couldn't lie to her daughter. Not when the possibility of Eric being injured – or worse – was so high. If Eric was dead, lying to Marie would do neither of them any favors. "Aunt Elizabeth will be in charge of things while I'm gone."
"But," said Marie quickly. "I want to help you find Papa."
Clara shook her head. "No, Marie. You are to stay here." Her tone was firm, and Marie knew better than to try and argue further.
"But you'll bring Papa back, won't you?" asked Marie, her voice quivering. "He'll be alright?"
Clara's throat tightened. "I hope so, love," she said. It wasn't the answer she wanted to give, but giving Marie false hope if there was none seemed an even crueler deed.
"Clara..." Elizabeth said, her tone urgent.
Clara nodded and turned back to Elizabeth. Marie immediately followed her mother, though she had to run to keep up with their rapid pace. Clara did not bother trying to dissuade Marie from following them, and together the three of them hurried to Elizabeth's chambers.
Rushing through the antechamber that connected her rooms, Elizabeth led them to the second door, which opened to her personal study. There was a desk in the center of the room that, though full of books and papers, was well organized. Bookshelves lined one wall of the study, while shelves containing various objects and spell ingredients filled the opposite wall.
Elizabeth ran her finger along the spines of the volumes on the bookshelf and yanked free a dark leather book. Clara and Marie came to either side of her, watching intently as Elizabeth flipped through it.
"Ah," said Elizabeth. She set the book on the desk and gestured to the passage it was opened to. "Here it is."
Marie read the passage's title. "A transportation spell?" She looked up at her great-aunt curiously. "I've never seen you use a transportation spell before."
"That's because I rarely do," said Elizabeth. "They are extremely hard to perform, and dangerous if done incorrectly."
"Is that why we never travel that way?" asked Marie.
"Partly," replied Elizabeth. "It's difficult enough transporting one person, but a group of people?" She shook her head. "Only a very accomplished magic user can do such a spell safely, and even then, it still is not easy. But you need not worry," Elizabeth said, noticing Clara's nervous expression. "Transporting you shouldn't be a problem."
"Shouldn't be?" repeated Clara.
Elizabeth walked to the shelves opposite the books and began pulling down various ingredients. "You'll be fine. At the most, you'll feel horribly nauseous. And dizzy. Vomiting is a perfectly normal reaction to transportation, so don't worry if you have such a reaction. Exhaustion is also to be expected for the person casting it, as the amount of energy required for a successful transportation is quite a lot."
Clara sighed. She supposed they didn't have much of a choice. "Very well. What can I do to help?"
"I shall prepare the spell," said Elizabeth. "What I need from you is something Eric has used recently. Something that would have a stand of his hair on it, or that he touched with his lips, like a drink glass."
"Marie, go fetch your father's comb," instructed Clara. "I'm going to gather some medical supplies and food."
Marie nodded and scampered out of the room, her golden hair swishing out wildly behind her. Clara went down to the kitchens, where Masha readily supplied her with a bag of food. Clara stuffed the food into a traveling pack, along with medical supplies she prayed wouldn't be needed.
Hurrying to her and Eric's bedchamber, she changed into a traveling dress and exchanged her shoes for boots. Over her dress she pulled on a coat that magically adjusted itself to fit the wearer, no matter their size. As for weapons, she chose a simple knife and a single revolver, though she did not look forward to the prospect to having to use either.
By the time Clara returned to Elizabeth's study, Marie was already there and waiting with Eric's comb. She was watching Elizabeth with interest, who was mixing various ingredients into a bowl that had been placed on the desk. Elizabeth held out her hand expectantly, into which Marie placed the comb. Pulling a single dark hair from the comb's teeth, Elizabeth dropped it into the mixture.
"I'm going to have to drink that, aren't I?" Clara asked warily.
Elizabeth smirked. "This a bit of an altered version of the transportation spell. Normally, one uses it to get to a place, not a person. But since we don't know exactly where Eric is, I'm tweaking the spell so that it will bring you to him, not a place. Hence the hair. It'll help the spell know precisely whom we're locating." Elizabeth gave the mixture a final stir, then poured it into a mug and held it out to Clara.
Clara took the drink, frowning in distaste at the chunky liquid as it sloshed against the sides of the mug. "Now what?"
"Wait," Marie said hastily. "Mama, wait."
Clara paused, shifting her gaze to her daughter.
Marie bit her lip, then dug into her dress pocket and drew out a single gold coin. "It's the coin Papa gave me, for winning the bet about my piano music," she said, her voice small. She held it out to her mother. "Tell him that he has to come home, because if he doesn't..." Her lip trembled, and she pressed the coin into Clara's hand. "Mama, he has to."
A sorrowful smile touched Clara's lips. "I love you, Marie," she said, kissing her daughter's forehead. "So does your father." She tucked the coin into her coat pocket. "I'll tell him." Sucking in a deep breath, Clara turned to Elizabeth. "Alright, what do I do?"
"First," Elizabeth said. "We need to do something about your magic."
"My magic?" said Clara in confusion.
"If Amaranth can sense the magic in others, you, my dear, will shine like a beacon," said Elizabeth grimly. "You will never find Eric, or get him out, without her knowing of your presence." She tapped her chin. "We have to cover your magic somehow."
Clara's thoughts flickered back to the prison she had escorted Vogt from, and how her magic had been stifled there. "What about magic-suffocating handcuffs? The dungeon guards will have some. We can have them take off the chain link."
"So they'll be like...bracelets?" asked Marie.
Clara smiled ruefully. "In a way."
"I suppose that could work," said Elizabeth.
They hurried down to the dungeons, where Pyotr, though confused, did as Clara asked and removed the chain link from a pair of magic-suffocating handcuffs. Clara pocketed the key for the handcuffs, and the ladies returned to Elizabeth's study.
Clara locked the cuffs onto her wrists, grimacing at the uncomfortable sensation of her magic being stifled. But the feeling passed, and she nodded at Elizabeth.
Elizabeth handed Clara the mug. "Since you can't perform magic, I'll have to do the spell for you. Just be sure you don't move. Now drink the mixture," instructed Elizabeth. "All of it."
Clara lifted the mug to her lips. It was an odd smell, like something that had originally been sweet, but long spoiled. She drank it quickly, trying to ignore the chunkiness of the drink's texture. Feeling rather queasy, Clara set down the mug.
Elizabeth gave Clara's arm a reassuring squeeze. Then she lifted the book in her arms and read the incantation printed there. It was rather long, and in a language Clara did not recognize. As she read, Elizabeth held her hand up so that her palm was facing Clara. A warm orange glow emanated from Elizabeth's hand, its brightness intensifying as each verse of the spell was read. Clara noticed a slight fatigue take hold of Elizabeth – the effect of the spell on the magic user performing it. But it didn't seem to be serious, as Elizabeth continued unconcerned.
When Elizabeth finished the passage, she paused and looked up at Clara. A silent look passed between them. Of trust, reassurance...and the deepest hope. Then Elizabeth uttered a single word.
"Transveho."
A muggy warmth embraced Clara's body. Her surroundings began to blur, and Elizabeth and Marie's faces were wiped away like smudges of paint, along with the rest of the study. A whirlwind encircled Clara, and she felt as though she was being carried away at great speed, while simultaneously being rooted to wherever her feet were. It was dizzying to be in the midst of such a violent wind, and Clara struggled to stifle the churning of her stomach.
She had no idea how much time had passed. Minutes perhaps, though it could have been hours for all Clara knew. Then suddenly, the wind died, and Clara stumbled into a dark passageway. She fumbled for the wall and clung to it for support as her head spun, sending waves of nausea through her body. For a horrible moment, Clara was sure she was going to vomit. But the feeling quelled, and she slowly straightened.
Well that was completely awful, she thought. It was no surprise Elizabeth had never suggested using transportation spells before.
Steadier now, Clara took a closer look at her surroundings. The passageway stretched on for a long ways in both directions. It was hard to see exactly how far though, as the only light was a dull, greenish glow that emanated from the walls. Even then, massive roots wound along the walls, making it difficult for the sickly light to properly illuminate the place.
A damp coldness hung in the air, and Clara tugged her coat tighter around her. Where was she? Was this Amaranth's refuge? It looked as though she were underground. Perhaps Amaranth's home was a labyrinth of caves and passageways – an intricate maze that only Amaranth could successfully navigate.
Clara reached up to touch the locket hanging about her neck. Eric was nearby. He had to be, as the locating spell was supposedly to take her to where he was. If cast properly, that is.
Her steps cautious, Clara followed the passageway. She frowned, wishing she had brought a lantern, as it was becoming more difficult to see the further she went.
With nothing beyond the green walls to guide her, she almost missed the cell embedded in the wall.
It was randomly placed, like an afterthought to the structure of the tunnels. Part of the passage swelled outward, burrowing deeper until it became a small cave that acted as a cell. The bars in front of the cell were no bars at all, but twisting roots that interlinked over each other as they stretched from the top of the cell entrance down to the floor.
Sitting on the ground inside of the cell was Eric. He was leaning against the wall, and his head had fallen forward so that his chin rested against his chest, as though he were sleeping.
Overwhelming, heart-stopping relief shot through Clara. She rushed forward, his name a cry on her lips. "Eric!"
Eric's eyes fluttered open, and he looked about in dazed confusion. Shock seized his expression as he caught sight of her, and he lunged for the roots covering the cell entrance. Gripping them with his left hand, he used them for support as he rose to his knees.
He looked absolutely exhausted. His face was nearly colorless in its pallid complexion, and there were dark circles beneath his eyes, which were dull with weariness.
"Clara?" Eric whispered in disbelief. His voice was hoarse, and he had to swallow before speaking again. "What are you doing here? How did you get here?"
Clara knelt and thrust her hands through the roots. She cradled his face, stroking his cheeks and brushing the hair from his brow. He was freezing, and looked like he lacked the strength to even walk out of the cell, but he was alive. She sobbed, smiling shakily as she caressed him.
Eric released a shuddering breath at her touch, relief sweeping over his face. But moving across the cell seemed to have sapped any remaining energy Eric had, and he slid to the floor, feebly clinging to the roots to stay upright.
"Eric, what's wrong?" Clara asked, frantic. She curved her hands over his, cringing at the clammy chill of his skin. "Did she take the magic leftover from the curse?"
If he was surprised by her knowing of the curse's lingering magic, he made no sign of it. He rested his forehead against the roots. "She tried," he murmured. "She only started before Rodolph stopped her."
"Rodolph?"
Eric nodded. "He convinced her to take his curse's magic instead. He took my place, Clara." He closed his eyes, guilt radiating across his face. "I don't know what happened to him. I passed out." He slammed his fist against the roots, gritting his teeth. "He shouldn't have done that."
"You're his king," Clara said gently. "It's his duty."
"It doesn't matter," said Eric. "He shouldn't have sacrificed himself for me." He sighed, looking back at her. "This wasn't even my magic she was taking; it was merely the fragments from the curse. And she only took some of it. She managed to reduce me to this with only a few seconds of drawing out energy. I can't even imagine what state Rodolph is in. If he's even alive."
Clara stroked her thumb over his knuckles. "We'll find him."
"What are you doing here?" Fresh terror flashed in Eric's eyes, as though he only just fully realized what Clara's presence here meant. "You can't be here, Clara. You should be at the castle with Marie, where it's safe. If Amaranth finds you –"
"I don't care about Amaranth," Clara snapped. "Marie is fine; Aunt Elizabeth is with her. I came for you, Eric. I'm not leaving without you." She gave his hand a squeeze, then sat back on her heels, studying the roots.
"They're made with her magic," said Eric, his voice faint from the effort of speaking so much. "I couldn't break them."
Though she knew it would do no good, Clara grasped the roots and yanked. When they did not give, she pulled free her knife and tried sawing through them. But the roots may as well have been made of iron; the blade did no better than her hands, and Clara quickly gave up.
She grimaced, an uncomfortable feeling pooling within her as she realized what she had to do.
Eric's prison had been conjured with magic. It was only magic that could break it.
She glanced down at the cuffs on her wrists. Eric's gaze followed hers, and he frowned. "Are those handcuffs?"
Despite her worry for him, she could not help an embarrassed smile. "They're stifling my magic."
Understanding lit in his eyes, followed by apprehension. "Clara, you can't take them off. Not for me." He weaved his hand through the roots, and Clara took it in both of hers. "Please, Clara. Leave. I don't know how you got in here, but you can't stay. You can't."
Clara bent and kissed his hand. She did not reply, as she had no answer that would please him. Releasing him, she drew out the cuffs' key.
"Clara, don't –"
She shoved the key into the lock of the cuff on her left wrist and turned it. The handcuff fell away, clattering to the floor. Hastily, she unlocked the second one.
Immediately, a wave of soft energy flowed through her. She gripped the roots for balance, shuddering as her magic surged back to awareness.
Eric sighed in frustration, staring at her wrists grimly.
Feeling revitalized by the returned warmth of her magic, Clara stuffed the cuffs and the key into her bag. She rose to knees and grasped the roots once more. Closing her eyes, she let out a long breath.
Focus.
She reached out, feeling for the magic coursing through the roots.
A coldness trickled over her.
Amaranth's magic...it felt wrong.
Murky, like a smog cast over the mind. Misshapen, like a molding of things put together that should not have been combined.
Clara frowned. She felt...dirty touching the distorted magic.
How to free the roots of it?
She set her jaw, her knuckles whitening from the ferocity of her grip on the plants.
Focus.
She willed her own magic to seep out onto the roots. To blanket Amaranth's cold magic in her warmth. To loosen its tightness and shake its solidity.
Release your hold.
Seconds passed, each one longer than the previous as Clara struggled to overcome Amaranth's magic. She had never encountered such strength before. It was a shock to feel, and Clara wondered at it, as Amaranth's magic was nearly all stolen.
How could it be so powerful?
Clara gritted her teeth.
Release your hold.
Slowly, the coldness ebbed. Warmth throbbed to life in the heart of the magic clogging the roots, and it spread outwards, sending a vibrant green through the rotten brown. The roots shuddered, then broke from the ceiling and fell to the ground.
Clara's eyes snapped open. A gasp of relief burst from her, and she flung herself forward, wrapping her arms around Eric. He flinched beneath her touch and, alarmed, Clara pulled away. "What is it?"
"My arm..." he murmured.
Clara looked down at his right arm, which hung limply at his side. She cringed; she should have expected it to be bothering him. "How bad is it?" she asked.
Eric did not respond, looking unsure how to answer in his muggy state.
Clara brushed his brow once more, utterly miserable at seeing him so disoriented. "Never mind." She helped Eric rest against the cell's wall, then dug into the bag at her side and pulled out a lemon drop. "Eat this."
He gave her a doubtful look. "Candy, Clara?"
She almost smiled. Almost. Clara tilted her hand, and the lemon drop rolled to the center of her palm. She blew onto the candy, and it glowed with a soft, shimmering light. Satisfied, Clara pressed it into Eric's good hand. "There."
He put it in his mouth. At first, nothing seemed to happen. But gradually, as he ate, the weariness dissipated from his face. His skin steadily lost its pallor, darkening to its normal tan, and the blue of his eyes brightened with alertness. Clara kept one hand behind his shoulder and the other on his left arm, supporting him as she waited for the magic to run its course.
Eric inhaled sharply, though it was not a sound of pain. He looked up at Clara and smiled, his expression no longer bearing signs of weariness. Assured that the candy's reviving magic had worked, Clara pulled him into a fervent embrace. Eric wrapped both of his arms around her in response, and a wave of relief flowed through Clara at the familiarity of his returned strength.
He threaded his hand through her hair, holding her steady as he pressed a kiss to her cheek. "You shouldn't have come," he whispered. "But thank you."
She turned her head and kissed him firmly on the mouth. She kept it brief though, knowing that they could be discovered at any moment, now that Clara had performed magic. "You protect me, and I protect you," she answered, brushing her fingers against his cheek. A frown curved her lips. "You're freezing, Eric." She set aside her bag and began shrugging off her coat.
"Clara, don't, I'm fine –"
Clara ignored him, draping the coat over his shoulders. Reaching into its front pocket, she pulled out Marie's coin.
"Here," she said, handing the coin to him. "Marie wanted me to give you this. She says you have to come home. So I don't want to hear any more of this self-sacrificing nonsense. Your daughter is waiting for you."
Eric smiled. He closed his hand over the coin, the thought of their daughter filling him with renewed determination. Slipping the coin back into the coat pocket, he nodded. "Let's go find the others."
Clara stood and helped Eric to his feet. She took his hand in hers and together, they stepped into the passageway.
