“Convinced who?”
“The ones we rarely speak of. The good ones. Those of the light.”
“Come on, Mama,” Gillian urged. “I have to go soon, but I want to make sure you’re all right before I leave.”
“I’ll try. For you, Gillian…and Mathison.” Unable to stand, Calia crawled to the pedestal, then slumped against its base. The wound in her chest had started bleeding again and throbbed with a fiery ache.
“You must hold his hand or at least touch him, Mama. You can do this.”
“Let me help.” Litress butted up against Calia, nudging herself up under her arm. “Hold on to my fur and push with your legs.”
Teeth clenched, Calia arched her back and forced her trembling legs to support her one last time. Litress shoved harder and pinned her to the base of the pedestal to keep her from falling back to the ground. A desperate groan escaped her as she caught hold of Mathison’s deathly cold hand and held it to her cheek.
“Time to go back,” she told him in a ragged whisper. “Time to heal. Rest. Dragon’s den. Now.” Eyes closed and desperately clinging to him, Calia turned her head and sobbed into the grayness as loud as she could, “I love you, Gillian. Forever and always.”
“I love you too, Mama.” The child’s lilting voice echoed across the Dreaming like a bouncing beam of sunlight. “Take care of Mr. Shadowmist and his wolf!”
Chapter
Eighteen
“We must speak the words and use the whitest fire to destroy Carman’s life medallion, given to her by the Morrigan.” With iron tongs, Mairwen carefully held the evil black coin that her wicked sister had forged to protect the vile witch’s life against everything but the power of the wolfstone and Calia’s love. While Mairwen’s spirits soared because those who had murdered her son had finally paid the ultimate price, she feared for Mathison and Calia’s survival. The remainder of Carman’s demonic existence had to be erased before the chieftain and his lady love could heal completely.
The dragon Noirgarth eyed her with disdain, not troubling to hide his dislike of the Weavers. “Kannis and Giddrie shall add their fires to mine and Bresag’s as ye speak the words. Dinna trouble yerself, Weaver. We shall do our part.”
“The hatchlings wish to help as well,” Bresag said as the three shimmering younglings scurried around her to cluster at the forge beside their father. “They consider Calia their sister.”
Even though the dragons’ cold hostility filled the air, Mairwen couldn’t help but smile at the adoration and hope shining in the newly hatched dragons’ jewel-like eyes. “Their love for Calia will strengthen the spell wonderfully. We are honored to welcome them into the circle.”
“Oak, ash, elder, and thorn are piled there at the edge of the forge,” Giddrie said. “Place the medallion upon it and leave the tongs there too, since they are of iron.”
“And the earth?” Mairwen peered closer at the makeshift pyre meant to complete the undoing of the evil magic. “I see the moon-blessed and sun-blessed stones, but I dinna see any earth.”
“It is there at the base, along with the gold,” Noirgarth said with no small amount of contempt. “Proceed. As soon as ye speak the words, we shall unleash our white flames.”
“Very well.” Mairwen drew the rest of the Weavers in as close as they could get to the forge without crowding the dragons, who would soon incinerate Carman’s life amulet. The Weavers of Spells, Dreams, Tranquility, and Love would strengthen her in destroying one of her sister’s most vile creations—the immortal witch known to terrorize humankind for ages.
She lifted her hands and focused on the medallion atop the pyre as her voice rang out clear and strong.
“By oak and ash, by thorn and flame,
By elder’s root and river’s name,
I call the law that older stands
Than crown or curse or mortal hands.
Iron weeps and shadow rends,
False power breaks, corruption ends.
What was bound in hunger born,
Be shattered now, be cleft, be torn.
By sun undone, by moon unmade,
By truth no wicked charm can evade,
