Ramsey shouted another extinguishing spell, his voice spiraling upward in panic. As he put out that fire, Ethan used another spell to light a second blaze on the wall behind Ramsey’s men.
The captain used a conjuring to douse these flames as well, but he was wide-eyed with terror now.
“Kill him!” the captain said. “I don’t care how! But I want him dead!”
The men advanced on Ethan. A half dozen of them drew pistols and cocked the hammers. Ethan hacked at his arm and cast another blade spell, knocking them back, although not before one of men got off a shot. The ball whistled past Ethan’s head, too close for comfort.
While the men were still sprawled on the floor, he cast again-“Impedimentum ex verbasco et marrubio et betonica evocata”-drawing upon the herbs he carried to conjure a barrier, a gleaming wall not unlike Ramsey’s shield. This one glowed russet, the color of Uncle Reg, and it surrounded Ramsey’s men, hemming them in against the wall.
Ethan didn’t believe it would prove as effective as the captain’s, but it didn’t need to. None of the men were conjurers; he only wanted his barrier to hold them back and block the bullets from their flintlocks. As if responding to the thought, one of the men sat up, aimed his pistol at Ethan, and fired. The ball rebounded off the barrier and an instant later struck the wall behind the man. He ducked belatedly and gaped at his weapon, seeming to realize how close he had come to killing himself.
“It’s just the two of us now, Ramsey,” Ethan said, turning back to the captain. “Shall I light another fire?”
“I should have resorted to this already,” Ramsey said, sounding as though he hadn’t heard. “I’ve been wasting time.”
This conjuring felt all too familiar. Ethan shuddered at the touch of it and looked to Reg, only to find that the ghost was watching him.
But nothing else happened.
“Impossible!” the captain said in a rasp. “Impossible!”
He glanced to his side, toward the man on the cot and the sailor who was cutting him. Another conjuring shook the warehouse, but again whatever Ramsey had intended did not result.
“I don’t understand!”
Ethan could not quite believe that having Mariz ward him from the conjurings had worked so well, but he concealed his amazement as he said, “I found a way to stop you. You can’t use my power anymore.”
“But I can!”
A third spell rumbled and failed. Ramsey let out a skirling, inarticulate scream.
“What will you do now, Ramsey?”
“It doesn’t matter,” the captain said. He licked his lips and said again, “It doesn’t matter at all.”
Another conjuring slammed Ethan to the floor. He didn’t know what kind of spell it was, and didn’t have time to ponder the matter. A second spell hit him, and a third. Each failed to penetrate his warding, but each battered him with the force of an ocean breaker. A fourth made his vision blur, a fifth left him addled. And still the assault went on. He feared he might pass out, and that if he did, his conjured barrier would fail, allowing Ramsey’s men to kill him.
Desperate, not knowing what else to do, he dragged his knife across his arm and cast another fire spell. He didn’t aim it, but simply let it fly from his hand. He heard it hit wood, heard the crackle of spreading flames.
Ramsey broke off his attack to extinguish the fire. Ethan cast three more fire spells in quick succession, directing them at the ceiling, the wall near the captain’s bed, and the wall nearest the door through which he had entered the warehouse.
The captain cast his spells as quickly, snuffing out the flames before they could spread. But this gave Ethan the respite he needed. He knew that he was forcing Ramsey’s man to draw more and more blood from the unfortunate lying on the pallet, but he could think of no way to prevent this without surrendering to the captain.
This thought, however, gave him another idea. He wasn’t certain that he could do what he had in mind; he didn’t know how much conjuring power Ramsey’s barrier could block. But if he succeeded, the tactic he was contemplating might allow him to defeat the man, finally and for all time. He threw another ball of fire at a wall, and as Ramsey put out the blaze, Ethan staggered to his feet and approached the bed.
And before Ramsey could aim a spell at him, he cast once more.
“Ignis ex cruore evocatus.” Fire, conjured from blood.
This time, however, he did not bother to cut himself. Instead, he drew upon the blood he knew was already available on the man beside Ramsey’s bed. The act of conjuring blood from a wound caused the wound to stop bleeding; this was why Ethan had to cut himself anew with each spell he cast. If he could take blood from the man Ramsey had been using in this manner, he would not only fuel his own conjuring, he might also deny blood to Ramsey until his sailor could cut the man again.
But could he reach the man’s blood? The barrier Ramsey had created was meant to repel attacks, both conjured and physical. Ethan sought not to breach the warding for an assault; he simply wished to use for his spell a source that was located within the shield.
And Ramsey’s warding could not prevent this.
Another flaming sphere flew from Ethan’s hand, striking the ceiling directly above where Ramsey lay.
“Falx ex cruore evocata,” Ethan said, once more drawing on the blood of Ramsey’s hapless victim, this time for a blade spell.
The conjuring crashed against the barrier like a wave and spent itself, as Ethan knew it would. But the glowing wall rippled noticeably, and this time Ramsey’s spectral guide did not appear when the shield was tested. Ethan could tell by the slight fading of its color and the dulling of its glimmer that the barrier was weakened by the impact of his spell. Something in Ramsey’s conjuring, be it the sheer strength of the barrier or whatever spell the captain had used to create it, made it vulnerable to such attacks. It seemed it could hold against anything, but it needed to be renewed constantly. Therein lay its one flaw. And Ethan sought to make the most of it.
He cast again-another blade spell. He didn’t expect that this one would reach the captain either. But as long as he kept conjuring and denying Ramsey access to the blood he so desperately needed, the shield would continue to grow dimmer and less powerful.
“Cut him faster!” Ramsey hissed the words, his widened eyes on the flames which still burned the ceiling above him.
“Discuti ex cruore evocatum,” Ethan said. Shatter, conjured from blood.
Enraged, unable to tear his gaze from the fire, unable even to form words, Ramsey screamed again and pounded his fists on the bed.
And still Ethan conjured. A fire spell. And rather than aim it at the walls or ceiling, he directed it at Ramsey, knowing once more that it wouldn’t penetrate the shield, but knowing as well that it would terrify the man.
At the sight of the fireball, the captain raised an arm, and turned his head, flinching back against his pillows despite his warding.
The aqua barrier held against this spell, but it sagged under the force of the conjuring, like a ship’s sail that suddenly catches a leeward wind. The spell even rebounded off the barrier with less force than had Ethan’s earlier spell; it barely even staggered him.
“Cut yourselves!” Ramsey shouted to the men Ethan had trapped with his conjured wall. “All of you! I need blood!”
The captain’s men were quick with their blades. Ethan managed to cast two more blade spells, each of which made Ramsey’s conjured dome flicker and quake. He thought that a third spell might get through and strike at the captain, but he didn’t get the chance to cast it. Before he could speak another spell, he felt a pulse in the warehouse floor and saw Ramsey’s ghost flash into view.
The captain’s conjuring fell upon Ethan, driving him to the ground and crushing the breath from his chest.