Chapter 82 – Borrowed Power (1)

Amidst the seemingly endless darkness only lit up by the blue light emitted by the rocks forming the broken circle around the altar, their gazes met. She peered into his soul, a crimson gaze that reminded him awfully much of that gigantic eyeball he peered into.

A cold shiver ran down his spine as he shut his eyes and pushed that thought to the back of his mind. She wasn’t of the Old Ones. She just was some other, seemingly immortal and forever-young being that could quite possibly kill him with a snap of her fingers.

He summoned his courage to speak and opened his eyes again to meet her gaze once more.

“You want to save Bareon. You wanted future generations to bloom – here we are, trying to do what we can with what crumbs of information we have.” He gulped, carefully watching her expression. “You guided the past emperors here, didn’t you? You wouldn’t kill me.”

Her lips curled up. “And why is that? You don’t carry Ardagh blood, nor does any of your friends. One of them is an Orlein, so you have two pieces of the puzzle nice and ready, but what about the rest?”

Midhir clenched his fists. “Does it matter whose blood I carry?” He hissed. “Does it matter whether the Emperor is here or not? Bareon will fall! I will not stand idly by and let it be destroyed when I can do something to protect my people!” He didn’t realise he was shouting until he felt the hurt in his throat.

The woman raised an eyebrow. “Your people?” She waved her hand dismissively. “Who are you to claim them as your-“

A flash of anger rose within. Power swelled as he reached for his earring and forced it to obey his will. The woman visibly flinched as a ring appeared mid-air, which he caught and tossed at her.

“That is who I am!” He hissed. His body felt light, and full of power. “Either help me or leave and let me try and save my people!” His voice echoed in the darkness.

The woman caught the ring and turned it around to look at the sigil embedded on it. Her lips parted as she drew a sharp breath, and her gaze snapped back at him. “You carry no Ardagh blood.” She repeated. “Yet you have this. I don’t… quite understand your circumstances.” She seemed befuddled as she tried to wrap her head around it.

“They don’t matter.” Midhir spoke through gritted teeth. “Will you help me, Witch?”

His words startled her. She closed her fingers around the ring. “Give me your name, boy.” She raised her chin with a look of anger in her eyes. “Your full name.”

It wouldn’t do any harm, would it? If his name was the price of her help, he would gladly pay it. “Midhir Induen,” he replied. That was all the information he was willing to give.

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Her eyebrows raised, and she looked at him oddly. “Induen.” She stated as if she was trying to make sure she heard him correctly. A moment of charged silence reigned before her lips curled up. “I thought that bloodline had come to an end.”

“I survived.” He curtly spoke. “I gave you my name, now help me, or at least let me try on my own. I won’t let Bareon fall.”

Circe chuckled. “You have my help, Midhir. A powerful name you have been given – befitting of someone of your blood.” She gently reached for his hand and pressed the ring into his palm. “Press your palm against the altar, and… well, you already know what to do. I will guide you through it.”

He let the ring disappear into his holding gem before doing as she said.

The surface of the altar was cool and smooth. There wasn’t a speck of dust, a particle of sand on it. As he pressed his palms down on both sides of the flower, his left eye ached.

“Now, you only need to command it to follow your will. You know how, you’ve seen them do it.” Her voice was distant, and difficult to follow.

He felt a gaze fall upon him as something warm flowed down the left side of his face. He heard the sound of something dripping down onto a hard surface.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and opened them. Something flowed through the chalk altar, originating in the broken circle of glowing stones. He could see the stream of light blue power within the chalk roots beneath the sand-covered ground. The streams joined at the middle of the altar, under the flower he had placed there.

He lifted his gaze to see similar streams flow into the broken circle of rocks from all around them. His heart raced as he admired their beauty. A moment later, he turned his attention back to the altar. He took the flower and lifted it from the altar. The streams of power followed, flowing through the air to reach the blooming flower.

He only needed to imagine the resonance he wanted to cast for the streams of power to bend to his will. It was simple – too simple. The resonance formed as soon as he pictured its form and function in his mind. He felt some power drain away from him, but it mattered little. Within just a few heartbeats, he had already prepared the resonance.

He hesitated only for a moment before finalising it.

He raised the flower up high and cast the resonance. A bright crimson flash of power nearly blinded him. The crimson light spread, some seeping into the ground, while most of it rose into the inverted lake, disappearing from sight.

“May we meet again, Midhir Induen. May the bell never toll for you.” The woman’s words were but a whisper before she vanished as suddenly as she appeared. The darkness around him lifted suddenly, it felt as if he had been returned to his world.

“Is that it?” He heard someone speak. “He’s done it, then?” It was Lonan, sitting cross legged on the sandy surface, with a grim expression on his face.

A wave of relief washed over him as he saw the others gathered at the edge of the broken circle. “It’s done.” He stated with a faint smile. “Alistair, should we return immediately? I… think I can take us back.”

The young noble’s eyes opened wide. “Are you certain you’ve done it? Bareon is safe?”

Midhir nodded. “The Old Growth won’t be able to creep any closer to the city. I’m taking us back – before this power fades completely.”

He weaved the resonance he saw from Circe, it was simple, but without this borrowed power, he would never be able to cast it. Power weaved around them before he once again raised his arm and finalised the cast.

One moment, then were stood beneath the inverted lake, the next, they were on the hill next to the Orlein Mansion, overlooking the city.