[This post is from Phelan’s point of view.]
“Her magic’s awake,” Cariocecus rasped, his voice much closer now than it should have been. Phelan blinked blearily in surprise his head resting against Neve’s shoulder, as he saw Cariocecus appear behind Marin, pale and shaky. “The Hecate,” Cariocecus clarified, his breathing ragged and shallow, as if still in pain—he probably was, Phelan realized, as he stared at the other man. “I’ve not felt it this strongly in centuries, not since the wars.”
Phelan swallowed twice before he trusted himself to speak. “Was it her, then?”
“No doubt,” Cariocecus said quietly, his eyes sliding closed for a moment. “You couldn’t tell, Wanderer? Considering how much her magic has been aimed at you and yours—”
“Hush,” Marin said, her tone brooking no argument without being overly harsh. “He’s been through quite a bit today and he hasn’t had the luxury of being her ally by any stretch. You were at least able to observe her magic firsthand.”
“Mmph.” Cariocecus glanced upward, toward the hatch that hid them from the world above, then looked back toward Phelan, trying for eye contact with the former druid. “Such as my experience was. She won’t be glad to see me.”
“Assuming she’s here to help us,” Phelan said with a slight shudder. Marin’s grip on him tightened.
“She is,” Marin whispered. “I know that she is, Phelan. Trust me.”
He nodded, jaw tightening. “You know I do, leannán. I always have.”
It’s the Hecate that I find it hard to trust.
Phelan closed his eyes again, reaching deep to try to find his center, trying to ground himself once more in the depths of the earth. Strangely, that act came easier now—had come easier since he’d reached too deep that day on the ice. It was just another thing on the list of things he hadn’t quite determined the meaning of, only knew that they meant something and it was an open question as to whether or not they were good things.
“Thesan’s out there, too,” he murmured, feeling goosebumps begin to race up and down his limbs. “And we all know where she stands.”
“Against us,” Cariocecus said as he sank back down to sit along the wall, much like Phelan had earlier. “Of that, there’s no doubt. Her sanity…” his voice trailed away.
Marin’s jaw tightened. “She’s come closer to destroying Phelan than the Hecate ever did.”
Phelan winced, knowing she was right, knowing that her words were true. That didn’t make them any easier to take, though, any easier to deal with. He swallowed hard. “We can’t just stay down here,” he said, feeling a little steadier. He glanced down toward his hands, now faintly tinged green.
Drawing too much could be the end of you.
It was Cíar’s voice, words spoken long ago but never forgotten. Phelan exhaled a silent breath and swallowed hard again. It had been centuries and more since he’d drawn this much, especially with the incidents being so close together.
If there was ever an age to do it, this is it.
He straightened, looking toward the ladder. “All of you stay here,” he said, his voice firm. Marin opened her mouth to protest but he gave her a long, silent look that made her let go of him and nod.
“Be careful,” she whispered as her fingers fell away from his sleeve.
Phelan nodded slowly. Neve looked shocked, her gaze bouncing between him and Marin. Her face clearly asked one question—how had he convinced Marin with a single look to stay put when only minutes before she’d been stubbornly insisting on marching into a fight right on his heels?
He took his cousin’s hand and squeezed. “Please listen to me, Neve,” he said softly. “Please just do it. We can’t do what we need to do if we’re worrying about you two in the line of fire while we’re doing it.”
“You say that like you’re going to war.”
“You act like I’m not.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Stay down here. If we fail…” his voice trailed away and he looked at the two women, at the babies, at Angie. He took a deep breath. “You carry tomorrow’s hope,” he whispered.
Then he turned away and began to climb. He’d nearly reached the top when Marin’s voice stopped him.
“Phelan.”
He glanced down to see her holding his staff in both hands. His breath caught in his throat.
“You might need this.”
She lofted it toward him and he caught it. With a grim smile and a nod, he finished his ascent, shouldered open the hatch, and climbed out into the pouring rain.
The hatch clanked closed behind him.
