“If we use the dormant gargoyles, it’d help them at least,” I said, falling into step with him. “The anchor worked, right?”
Everything had happened so fast, I had only an impression of the anchor funneling some of the wild magic harmlessly into the soil.
“More than the trap.”
“What about the sword? Does it have any special properties?”
“Against raw elements, no. But if we encounter something with a body, it might come in handy.”
“Do you really think anything could live here among the storms?”
He shrugged. “I’ve seen stranger things.”
We climbed the switchbacks as fast as Celeste could pull the sled. My thighs ached and my stomach sat heavy with fear and doubt. Marcus sent Oliver to scout the way in the air, and I bit my tongue to hold in my protests. Oliver was smart and fast; he wouldn’t put himself in danger. Even so, after he flew off, I spent so much time looking at the sky that my neck knotted and my toes bruised inside my boots from tripping over unnoticed rocks.
Our luck held for almost a half hour, until a small storm of raw water and air spinning as tight as a tornado veered off its previously straight course and whirled toward us. It switched directions so rapidly, we didn’t have time to move from where we were pinned between a steep outcrop of ragged milky quartz and a washout. Already past the storm, Oliver circled back, wings beating so fast they blurred in his effort to reach us.
“No, don’t let him—”
Marcus formed an air message and curved it around the storm. I half expected the wild magic to snatch it out of the air or change course in attraction to the magic, but it didn’t alter its headlong rush for us.
I thrust my magic toward Marcus without taking my eyes from Oliver. Our linking was rough but fast, and in my worry for Oliver, it didn’t unseat my equilibrium. When the message reached Oliver, he pulled up, his long body sagging beneath his spread wings. I let out a shaky breath.
“Thank you.” Oliver was clear of the storm. He would be safe.
If Marcus replied, a gust of wind took his words. He formed another shield, this one fire and earth, and anchored it in the copper and quartz rod he stomped into the ground. I could feel the dormant gargoyles in our link this time, but Marcus didn’t include Celeste despite her silent offer of enhancement. I could have accepted her boost and pulled more magic into the link, but I trusted Marcus to have a plan.
The storm dipped, coating the ground beneath it in ice and lifting rocks and weeds into a funnel. Wide-eyed, I watched the frozen front race toward us. Marcus locked my wrist in his hand and drew a wallop of power from our link, altering the fire in the shield from the basic elemental form to the weaves for a white-hot heat. When the storm hit us, it melted into nothing with an anticlimactic shush of released air.
“That’s more like it,” Marcus said. He released me from the link at the same time he let go of my arm, and I sagged against the sled. My heavy breaths fogged the chilled air, and between ragged pants, I could hear the tinkle of the ice crystals melting in the sunlight. Marcus rolled a weak band of heat across the ground in front of Celeste, thawing it, and we pushed back into motion.
Before following the sled, Marcus stooped to pick up something from the icy ground. It wasn’t until he held it up that I recognized the frosted twist of metal as a null trap.
“How did that get there?”
“I tossed it. I hoped if it was grounded, it would work. I think it’s safe to say they’re useless.”
“That storm should have passed us by,” I said, pulling the grounding rod from the ground. It burned my palm, and I bounced it between my hands to cool it until Marcus took it.
“It’s as if someone is guiding these damn things toward anything living,” Marcus said.
I shuddered at the thought. “Not anything. It ignored Oliver.”
In unison, we glanced at the sled of dormant gargoyles.
“It’s them,” I said.
I couldn’t believe I’d missed it. It was so obvious. The mining explosion, the broken baetyl: They were the same thing.
“Because the gargoyles are basically leaking magic?” Marcus guessed.
I shook my head. “Celeste, why haven’t any of the other baetyls been accidentally discovered?”
“Baetyls protect themselves.”
Exactly. The Native Americans had avoided Waupecony Ridge long before the storms. The baetyls must have some form of a ward or protection spell to scare off anyone who ventured too close. But the lure of wealth had spurred the members of the Hidden Cache Mining Company to ignore the dangers.
“The early miners, they merely lost their memories, right?” I said, without giving Marcus a chance to respond. “They must have gotten too close, and the baetyl’s protective measures kicked in. The storms didn’t start occurring until the incident with the Hidden Cache mine. Baetyls have their own type of magic—”
“They are magic,” Celeste interrupted.
“What if the miners broke into the baetyl and fractured its magic? All these wild storms have to be coming from somewhere. What if it’s coming from the baetyl?”
“That would explain a lot,” Marcus said.
“I think so, too. And if the dormant gargoyles are tuned to this specific baetyl’s magic, then these wild storms might also be tuned to them. The gargoyles might actually attract the storms.”
“Well, doesn’t this day just keep getting better,” Marcus said to no one in particular.
*