“Aren’t you just a shiny rainbow of happiness,” Mal muttered as she started pushing through the guests. “Iwasworried. Iamworried. Only now, I’m a lot more worried.”
They passed through the central courtyard, and Mal was startled to find it far more crowded than she’d have expected, and things were getting raucous. The pixies had made several drinks that had proven both delicious and highly intoxicating for all who drank them. No doubt they’d used plenty of pixie dust in the brews.
A number of guests had retrieved instruments and had set up an impromptu band. Watching them play together, Mal would’ve thought that the pixies and giants were old friends. Dancers soon joined in, their feet thundering as they pounded in traditional dances. What worried her were the virdanas and their guards standing soberly on the sidelines, not one cracking a smile. Neither did they talk to each other. They just watched as if waiting for some signal.
“Let’s go,” Mal said to So’la, and they hustled around the edges of the courtyard into one of the arcades running alongside. It was crowded here, too, and they had to thread their way, being careful not to get knocked into by a dancing giant. Big or little, they’d send Mal flying off her feet.
The first sign of trouble hit Mal like she’d run into a giant dandelion puff. At first it felt soft. Then it broke apart, and all the separate bits clumped and clung to her. She staggered. She couldn’t control any part of herself. She could feel her hands and feet, her legs and body, but they felt detached somehow. Then she had a sensation like they all broke into a thousand jigsaw pieces. Even her brain fragmented.
Dimly she was aware that she’d collapsed and So’la had caught her, that he was speaking to her, and that she had not literally fallen to pieces. Still, she couldn’t move, though she did continue breathing. Whatever this was, it wasn’t meant to kill. Or maybe it was. She’d been shielding herself. If this happened to her even with that in place, then it very well could have been intended to kill.
What is happening to you? Can you speak?
So’la’s mental voice sounded slow and syrupy.
She tried to piece together words but couldn’t formulate anything, much less make her mouth and tongue bend properly.
She twitched as a half dozen ghosts smashed into her, wrapping themselves around her in a cocoon. She could feel their panic. For her? Or themselves? More hit and she lost count of them, her thoughts crumbling into pieces.
The ghosts tightened, hardening and somehow that helped. It became a little easier to hold on to a thought.
So’la.
What is happening to you? I can’t sense any spells. Your heart is erratic, and I think you are dying! We talked about this, Mallory. I don’t want to die. You must protect yourself.
His anger washed through her, blunting anything else he might have been feeling. His words weren’t quite as slow and distorted, but they still weren’t normal.
Concern… noted.
That took far more effort than expected, and she had to gather herself to say more. She became aware of a disjointed feeling of aching pain and a pushing from the outside. She wasn’t sure where the feelings were coming from. Her feet, maybe? But So’la had said her heart was erratic. It made more sense she was having a heart attack and getting CPR.
Just then she felt an expansion and pinching and that seemed to confirm her diagnosis.
Then she forgot.
She was aware of a litany of words coming into her mind. From where? Why did they sound like verbal confetti? Like the line had kinked in a number of places and she could only make out little bits of sound.
Maybe she was going through a tunnel and it was blocking the signal. If she’d been able to, she’d have giggled.
She remembered So’la. Annoying bastard. She hated having to like him, but she couldn’t help it. Despite being a complete asshole, he was also charming. And funny.
It occurred to her that he was keeping her alive. Or someone was. It smelled like So’la. A brimstone smell, which translated into rotten eggs. Brimstone sounded a lot less disgusting.
What did a witch who’d been attacked, was essentially paralyzed and couldn’t think her way out of a wet paper bag, do?
She wasn’t sure how long it took her to formulate that thought. She had a feeling she’d broken off and wandered off mentally several times only to find herself back at the beginning.
At least part of her wanted to figure this out.
Cold.
Ants crawled over her skin.
Prickles, like little wire wheels rolling gently over her body.
More tunnel talking. She didn’t really pay attention. She was trying to remember something. Something she could do. Something she’d prepared long ago. It was supposed to be instinctual. Triggered without having to think about it.
Sinking down into herself, she found herself surrounded by floating bits of spells limned in pretty light. She recognized them. Remembered how they hurt when she’d cut them into her skin. Dangerous if anybody found out.
