“Do you know who I am?”
“Mr. Darcy, sir.”
Darcy was beginning to worry his Restraining spell would not hold up much longer. He had been exhausted when he cast it, and he could already see signs of unravelling. If the mage regained consciousness, he could do a great deal of damage. The guards were right. Taking a powerful mage inside was like opening the door for a Trojan horse.
“Very well. Send someone for Colonel Fitzwilliam. Explain the situation and tell him to hurry. We need a couple of mages to immobilize the prisoner. And he needs Healers.”
Satisfied that his orders were being followed, he sat down on the cobblestones next to Elizabeth his back against the wall. He no longer had the will to stand.
“You managed to destroy the fireball.” He was only just beginning to realize the enormity of what had just happened.
“I know.” She was obviously too tired to care.
Which was just as well, because he could not spare the energy to talk.
***
THE RESTRAINING SPELLwas still working – just barely— when Colonel Fitzwilliam appeared with two Elemental mages, a Warder, and a dozen soldiers who stood guard in case the French mage awakened. The prisoner had awakened, but he was looking stunned, his eyes rolling up in his head.
Thankfully, the Elemental mages worked quickly, forging iron manacles and chains to bind his hands and feet, while the Warder encased him in a shell that Confined his magic.
Darcy roused himself from his lethargy to double check the Wards and made a few adjustments, satisfied that the captive would not be able to use magic to attack. He gave a signal, and the Healers arrived with a stretcher.
“Do you need help getting off the floor, or do you just like to grovel at my feet?” Colonel Fitzwilliam gave him a hand up and turned to help Elizabeth come to her feet as well.
Darcy took her arm gently and guided her inside. She was swaying drunkenly as she walked, but at least she was able to stay upright. The bells were still clanging loudly. It was a little like locking the barn door after the horse had escaped, but Darcy did not have it in him to say anything after he walked in. In any case, it was very possible Napoleon’s mages would attack again.
As he entered, Darcy found Matlock standing in the middle of the Great Hall, issuing orders. Everyone was running around, trying to put out the small fires that were smoldering in different parts of the Hall. There was broken glass everywhere. The air was thick with smoke.
It suddenly all became very real to him. If the shards of fire had caused this much damage, what would the fireball itself have done?
It was too horrible to contemplate.
Matlock strode over and studied the prisoner. “Take him and lock him in the cellar. But keep him away from anything that can be used as a weapon. That includes wine or brandy bottles. And assign two mages to watch him all the time.”
He turned to Darcy and Elizabeth.
“Do you mind telling me what happened out there?”
“There was a fireball.” Elizabeth started to answer, but she seemed incapable of going into any more detail. The magic had completely drained her. Her face was chalk white.
“She needs a Healer,” said Darcy, looking at her in some alarm. “And some food.”
“I’m afraid the Healers are busy. People are queuing up on the far side of the Great Hall to be treated for burns. But I can have someone fetch some food.”
Elizabeth may not need help as urgently as someone with an injury, but Darcy knew how much her magic had been overstretched, and he was worried about the consequences. Using magic always came at a price. His uncle had gone away, however, and Darcy did not have the strength to get up. A few minutes later, a footman handed Elizabeth a plate with a couple of apple tarts. She took it and bit into one of the tarts hungrily.
Then Colonel Fitzwilliam handed Darcy another plate, this one with bread and cheese.
“Here. You need something to eat as well. My father is too preoccupied to think straight, so I had to go to the kitchen myself. There were no more apple tarts. I hope you are not too disappointed.”
Darcy shook his head, took the food gratefully and gulped it down, scarcely noticing what he was eating.
A few moments later, Matlock reappeared at their side, waiting impatiently for Darcy or Elizabeth to provide more information. Understandably so. He needed to plan for the next round of attacks.
“Well? Is someone finally going to tell me what happened?”
Darcy gave a quick summary of the events that had occurred since they left the carriage. Matlock raised his brow when Darcy described the size of the fireball and his own struggle to control it.
