Eorla Kruge approached from the ridge, resplendent in her widow’s weeds, a long tunic coat embedded with small gems that flickered in the light of the druid-fire. She wore a small diadem of gold and a long sheer veil draped over her head, a gossamer net of faint green that trailed across the ground behind her. In her hands, she held another diadem, plain and large. With careful steps she entered the pit, placed the large diadem on Kruge’s chest. She removed one of her rings and tucked it into his hands. Everyone watched respectfully as she stood solemnly, her hands on his in final good-bye. She returned up the ramp. When she reached the wooden bench, she turned to face the grave and sat. The drumroll stopped.
A woman cloaked in dark blue stepped up to the opposite side of the pit from Eorla. With no introduction, she began to sing the Teutonic death ritual. Sitting between Murdock and me, Meryl groaned. “Wake me when she’s done.”
I suppressed a laugh. Teutonic priestesses had put more than one person to sleep with their songs. True to form, this one launched into a mind-numbing aria on life in High Elven German. Meryl squirmed. As the priestess sang, servants brought a vat of mead before her, and she blessed it with her song. The servants ladled the drink and passed the cups into the crowd.
Murdock’s hand went to his ear. He leaned across Meryl. “Fighting at the outer perimeter. I have to go.”
As Murdock hustled his way out of the aisle, I watched security agents, both elf and fairy, reposition themselves along the ridge. Keeva leaned toward Gerin Cuthbern to speak to him. Gerin rose from his seat, bowed to Eorla, and walked up the ramp.
The ceremony continued uninterrupted. Word of the fighting outside must have filtered through the crowd because I could feel body shields activating around me. The calling of so much essence in such a confined area made my head ache. I could see it, my own body activating my sensing abilities instead of its almost useless body shield. Essence of all colors glowed around me like small lanterns of light.
The mead reached the last row of seating and made its way toward us. Distracted by more security, I took the cup from my neighbor and began to sip.
Meryl’s hand came up suddenly and grabbed my arm. “Wait!”
I looked at her curiously, and she took the cup from my hand. She peered inside, consternation on her face as she swirled the dregs. She inhaled and blanched, her body shields coming up so quickly she shuddered.
“It’s Float,” she hissed under her breath.
As soon as she said it, I caught another wave of essence rolling over the gathering. It tickled into my nose, laden with the spell I had felt at Carnage. I tried to shake my head to clear it, but only felt dizzy. My vision blurred suddenly, then my sensing abilities went into overdrive. All around me, essence crystallized sharply in my vision, a disconcerting overlay of color outlining everything. I could see the spells working in the druid-fires, the glamours that people wore, their innate body essence marking them by strength and species. And marking everyone was a malevolent green essence that matched the glow coming from the vat of mead.
It was just like when I held the drys, her essence boosting my ability to its greatest potential, but twisted by the compulsion spell C-Note had put on it. As essence materialized more distinctly around me, I realized why.
“I can feel the drys. C-Note is here, Meryl.”
A collective gasp went up from the crowd. Heads that had been nodding with boredom shot to attention. At the top of the low ridge, C-Note leaned on his black staff. Keeva leaped to her feet before anyone else and moved into the aisle. Brownie and druid security materialized from the crowd and surrounded C-Note in moments. Eorla angrily rose from her seat as Consortium agents closed ranks around her.
“So much for security,” Meryl muttered.
C-Note raised his staff. “Look at you, facing each other across the corpse of unity. You speak to unity, but you still plot against each other. Even now, some among you seek revenge for age-old grievances.”
Surprised murmurs rippled through the audience as more people got to their feet. Keeva made her way up the ramp toward C-Note. He waved the staff, and she froze in place. Not a good sign. More people stood to watch the confrontation. The Teutonic ambassadors began to push their way up the ramp. Not to be outdone, the Seelie envoy led his own security closer.
“How the hell did he get through,” I muttered.
Around us, the druid-fires flickered and smoked. My head buzzed with surging essence. Keeva should have been backing the crowd out. Trolls are tough to move physically, but she didn’t even seem to be trying to break the spell on her. A few feet in front of her, the druids and brownies had an essence shield around C-Note, a nice piece of joined spell-working meant to hold him in place, presumably until the bigger guns showed up to cart him off.
C-Note was still talking, but the noise of the spectators drowned him out. Angry, rapt faces surged forward. The Guild security guards should have been down on the ground by now. They responded directly to Keeva via sendings, and she had to be calling them. Instead, they remained hovering along the periphery, white blazes of essence ringed above us. Something wasn’t right.
I searched the crowd, but could see nothing other than people boosting their body shields. I paused as my eye slid over a trough of druid-fire near me. I could see the essence that powered it, but behind the normal flame, it seemed to be drawing essence from the trees around us instead of being powered by people. Anger swept over me. That wasn’t how you worked a Grove shield. You didn’t draw directly from the oak It was an insult to the spirits of the trees to use them for such a utilitarian purpose.
My head ached as I watched lines of essence from the druid-fires crawl across the gravesite. So much essence was in the air, it actually fed into my ability, amplifying it beyond what I normally could sense. The dark mass in my head seemed to ripple in my mind, pushing the bands of Power away from it like it did when I tried to call essence on my own.
Color cascaded in my sight, tangles of light like a multi-colored ball of fraying yarn. I could see links had formed among all the druid-fires around the clearing. The lines entwined, forming a dense spiral of Power that began to funnel down toward Kruge’s grave. The spiral pulsed and grew as the heart essence of the oaks fed it. The druid-fires pulsed brighter as they fed more essence into the spiral. A huge pulse rolled along the lines, swirling along the spiral as it tightened into a nexus. Not at the grave. At C-Note’s feet. He planted the staff on its very center and a shimmering barrier flowed up to meet the pulse. It was a hedge spell. C-Note was sealing off the entire clearing.
I grabbed Meryl’s arm in alarm. This couldn’t be good. “Get everybody out! Get them to run! Do it now, Meryl!”
I had to give her credit. Having just slammed me for telling her what to do, Meryl responded with trust. Without hesitation, she shouted a spell that sent a burst of primal fear into the crowd. Terrified without knowing why, people who had been gathering around C-Note suddenly spun away and ran up the slope. The few who didn’t run, hardened their body shields in battle mode and reached for weapons.
The pulse reached C-Note. He absorbed the energy into his staff and slammed it on the ground. Bolts of yellow fire shot out and enveloped the brownies and druids around him. In unison, they turned away from him and started firing essence into the crowd. Keeva sailed up into the night sky in a radiant halo of white fire, a look of ecstasy on her face.
As the exchange of fire heated up, I pulled Meryl behind a large burial monument. We could see the whole of the clearing below us as a confusion of people turned on each other with weapons and essence-fire.