Chapter 20: The Spell

6 2 11
                                    

Without hesitation, Miriam replied to Jonatham, How, when we appear to be trapped? If we can't get to a gathering circle, the spell won't be successful, right?

He didn't immediately reply, and in the brightening gleam of the walls, their situation became more clear. The only gaps in the piled debris around them wouldn't admit a mouse, let alone a full-grown man or woman. Above them, a nearly intact portion of the chamber's ceiling rested on top of the new makeshift walls, sealing them in. Miriam wondered if a stone or two could be jostled out of place to clear a path without toppling the whole, a fantasy squashed by a low groan overhead followed by a shower of luminous pebbles that peppered her head and shoulders.

We may be shut in, but good magic is not limited by such things; malicious magic can be thwarted by enchanted stone, but twice-strengthened bond magic wielded by a royal is limited only by distance and the weaver's personal reservoir. A completed triple bond is only limited by distance, and that mildly.

Enough light filled the small chamber for her to see his pupils dilate and the remaining iris lost its silver specks. He growled, "Too bad we have no time to form the third bond." When she blushed, he smirked and held out his hand. "Stand with me."

She slapped her hand into his, ignoring the tickling sparks, and he tugged her to her feet with equal enthusiasm. Her cheek crashed into his chest like a runaway truck into a brick wall as his other arm slid around her back, and the sparks exploded into an inferno that engulfed her entire being. None of their previous embraces compared, and she imagined what it might be like to kiss him now, to share the same breath, to–

A low vibration shook his chest under her ear. Torment me no more, my lady. First we push back the darkness, then we lose ourselves in each other.

Disappointment poured ice water over the raging blaze under her skin. Surprised by the reaction, she had no time to analyze it before a fraction of the lost warmth infused her thoughts and diluted her distress.

His arms squeezed tight and relaxed. If I kiss you now, neither of us will want to stop until the rest of the castle falls on top of us, and the wraiths devour what is left of both worlds. Better we attempt the spell first. With that settled, nothing will rush me in demonstrating the best parts of the soulmate connection, now and forever after. Now, prepare yourself, love.

The command should have stiffened her muscles and joints for a physical impact, but somehow she knew rigidity would only decrease her ability to assist Jonatham. Instead, she relaxed into his hold, allowing her body to conform to his. Her mind mirrored the action, and when he began to murmur in that strange language again, rather than fight the unseen binding that wrapped around her stomach and wrenched it outward, she imagined all her energy flowing through the tie, a river guided through a city via walled canal, no energy wasted on obstacles.

At first this seemed sufficient. The magic pulled no harder on her organs, twisted no tighter, for the space of a few breaths. Jonatham's voice maintained its steady rasp as his words drifted in waves over her head, and his arms held her near without crushing her. His heart thumped deep and slow under her ear.

Without warning, the air around them chilled. Miriam was reminded of her six-month stint as a catering assistant in college and the prickling cold that assaulted her skin whenever she entered the walk-in freezer. With her eyes closed, her memory transported her there, right to the sound of the steel door whumping closed behind her. Another whump followed, and a shower of ice crystals brushed over her hair and neck.

Ice crystals?

When the next whump shook the stone floor under her feet, she tossed her head back and glanced around. Just as fast, one of Jonatham's hands shot up and pressed her head down and her cheek back against his chest, but not before she saw a tendril of black mist flickering in the depths of a crack between chunks of rock.

I need more power to complete the spell before they break through. Do not be afraid, my lady. I will protect you to my last breath. Trust me.

Immediately the cord in her innards snapped so snug she sympathized with ladies of times past, forced to wear corsets that permanently compressed their rib cages, so even naked they could not fill their lungs completely. Complicating the sensation were Jonatham's forearms and fingertips, all digging into her back and sides, unforgiving as steel. Inhaling enough air to prevent an oxygen-deprived faint became her personal battle.

She managed one somewhat satisfying breath before the strand in her abdomen transformed into a hose and sucked at her energy like a cosmic vacuum. The more she strained to breathe, the less strength she had to try, and her vision dimmed. Desperate for air, she poured her remaining power into arching her neck and spine, breaking free of the arms pinning her just as Jonatham's murmuring became bellows and darkness closed around them.

It's nearly complete! A few more phrases, Mir. Stay with me!

In the thick black, there was no way to determine whether a flood of wraiths or failure of the magic in the rubble was to blame for the gloom. After another minute of her essence being forcibly drained away, she no longer cared. Her eyes fell shut, her lungs gasped at nothing without conscious effort, and her muscles released all tension. The unbending cage of Jonatham's arms became her only support, and she surrendered to it.

From their earlier discussions, she understood that the spell casting could possibly kill them both, but in this moment it became real. Blinded, she mourned that even a hint of success or catastrophe was denied her. Beyond his voice and unyielding grip, she had no idea if Jonatham also lingered on death's doorstep, but even that concern melted away as her awareness shrank to her own slowing pulse fluttering in her ears.

Her last thoughts as she slipped into oblivion was that she would never explore the breadth of wonders contained within this other world or experience a triple-sealed soulmate bond, whatever that meant.

Good luck, my prince, and goodbye.

Mir! NO! 

The Lark Taps TwiceWhere stories live. Discover now