Always I had read of the exhilaration of Dar'Nethi enchantment, and how the intensity of the experience grew in proportion to the power of the enchanter. Now I knew that all I'd read was true. Gerick's power left me breathless, speechless.
But before I could even encompass the wonder, the oculus pulsed and shot off beams of light, blinding me, choking me, devouring the bright moment and spewing out horror that overwhelmed every sense—tortured screams, billowing darkness, the reeking smoke of burning corpses. The brass ring gleamed through the murk.
I fed power into the enchantment I had built, more and more, until I feared that even this ocean of magic inside me must be drained dry. And always the circle of brass stayed whole. I knew only one way to divert more power into my enchantment—make the link with its object more direct. Furious at a creation that could convert such beauty into horror, terrified that we would fail, I could not consider the danger. And so I stretched out my hand and touched the oculus itself.
First my hand, and then my arm, shoulder, and neck felt as if I had submerged them in burning oil. But I held on, binding my enchantment ever more closely to the physical object, even as dread and cold darkness crept through my inner vision. I cried out shamelessly, determined that neither pain nor this insidious despair would force me to release the spell. I would not fail. I would not … I would not. . . .
Let go. It's all right . It wasn't so much words that penetrated the pain and darkness, but rather an overwhelming, insistent assurance. The world was unbroken. I was unbroken. My injured shoulder had gone into spasms because my fist was clenched so tightly, causing this pain in back and chest. And of course it was dark, because my face was pressed into the dirt and my eyes were closed. This knowledge flooded into me before I could assess these things for myself. And then the tide went out, leaving me sprawled, aching but content, on the shore of life.
Eventually I moved. I tried for a while to loosen my fist, but nothing in my right arm wanted to obey me. Then I lifted my head and opened my eyes only to find that it was still dark. Night. Quiet, except for pelting, skidding footsteps on the dirt behind me, and the anxious call, "Jen, are you all right?"
Impossible to answer yet, of course. Supporting my right arm with my left, I scrambled to my knees, trying to persuade my eyes to focus. No chance of a handlight. Even the thought made my head ache, like trying to vomit when you've nothing left inside. But I patted my left hand on the dark shapes scattered on the surface of the rock. My knife, the sheath, the now-tangled measuring cord, and a few shards of metal, cool and inert. I peeled open my recalcitrant fist and found more of the same.
"Jen?" The voice was closer. Kind. Worried. Paulo.
"I'm all right," I called over my shoulder, as I jingled the bits of metal in my left hand and threw them gleefully onto the rock. "I think we did it!"
Paulo arrived and crouched on the gravel beside me. "I heard you cry out. And then nothing."
I looked up at him and grinned. "A little yelling never hurt anyone."
"It wasn't yelling so much as screaming. I thought you needed help, though I wasn't sure it was even you!"
"Well, I suppose it wasn't all me." I swallowed hard and squirmed a bit, trying to gather in my thoughts and feelings that seemed scattered over the landscape like my other possessions.
Paulo grinned and jerked his head back up the path. "He's back there where he belongs. Takes him a bit to get sorted out. And after something like this . . ."
"I probably need sorting out, as well," I said, feeling an uncomfortable moment of mingled relief and regret. But as soon as I remembered the magic, relief, regret, pain, and despair were all forgotten. I could have run, leaping and dancing, all the way back to Avonar. I grinned back at Paulo. "Let's get out of here."
While Paulo picked up the shovel and the broken sword, I gathered my belongings, fixing my knife sheath to my belt, winding up my measuring cord, and patting my hand on the ground in a moment's panic until I found my mother's ring. The scarf was nowhere in sight, but it was the least valuable by far and I left it go. I gathered the shards of the oculus and considered what to do with them. I needed no power to tell me their bitter enchantment was broken.
"You don't think your friend would want these?" I said. "A memento?"
Paulo nodded toward the hole. "Throw them in there and I'll bury 'em. No one needs a piece of that thing."
He had it done faster than I could take stock of all my limbs and other parts and decide that I was in one piece. We started up the track together. "It was all right then," he said, flicking his eyes to the top of the ridge. "With him?"
"He's done it with you?" I said.
"I was his first. Before he even knew he could do it. Felt like a wildcat had gotten into my skin with me. But he saved my life that day, and the lives of a whole world full of people. We did it again later when he was hiding from his da. At least that time he'd learned to keep quieter, and he wasn't trying to kill anybody."
I flexed the fingers of my right hand. As we walked, sensation was returning. "You're a good witness, Paulo. The way you trust him. I might never have gone through with it otherwise."
"But I was his friend already. Don't know as I would have had the nerve to do it, feeling as you do about him. You ever need a witness that you're the damndest woman this side of the Lady Seri, I'll stand up for you."
I laughed, and we climbed up the hill to find Gerick.
We slept under the rocks again that night. The knowledge that we were only a portal away from real food, real beds, and a bath was a fine torment, but the first sight of Gerick at the top of the track had told me we were going nowhere until we'd had some rest. He'd been sitting with his head on his knees, unable to speak, utterly and completely drained. His breathing was erratic, his limbs and shoulders twitching every once in a while as he inhaled with a great whoop. Making portals would require learning and practice, even if he had power left after what we'd just done. We would have to wait until morning.
Paulo boosted him onto his horse, and we rode back to the riverbed and our shelter. Our little fire was still burning, and I used the rest of our water and all the good herbs we had left to make tea. We drank some ourselves and forced the rest down Gerick until he just shook his head and rolled over on his blankets. He hadn't said a word, and I wasn't about to broach the subject of the oculus or our strange partnership. I supposed he knew that we'd been successful.
That night I dreamed of wildcats tearing their way out of my skin.
My eyes fluttered open to see Nim and Rab squatting quietly in the narrow band of shade and staring at me. The sun angle claimed it was almost midday.
"Spits," said Nim, incomprehensibly, as she laid a handful of hard green fruits about the size of plums on a rock. "Clean the nose and throat."
It took me a moment to realize that spits referred to the fruit. "Oh. Thank you," I said.
Gerick lay on his side, still sleeping. It looked as if he hadn't moved the entire night or morning. Paulo lay flat on his back under the deepest part of the overhang, snoring peacefully. He had packed up all our gear the previous night, except for our blankets and a few things I'd set aside.
I divided the last of our cheese into five chunks and offered a portion to the two scavengers. It was so dry and hard that droplets of grease ran off it as the morning warmed. Nim kept gesturing me to take one of the green fruits, though I noted that she ate only her portion of cheese. I picked up one and sniffed it. It just smelled green.
"We're leaving today, and, as we can't carry everything, we thought perhaps you'd want some of our supplies." I pointed to the stack of pots, cups, and spoons. "You've been very kind to us."