Blackwood and I hooked a current of air, while Maria created a platform of ice beneath our feet and we rode a wave in toward shore.
Her strength finally gave out about fifty feet from land, and we plunged back into the water. I coughed as I paddled forward. Just when I thought I was about to sink, my feet scraped the rocky shore. I dragged myself out, dripping and ragged. My sodden skirts weighed me down even further, and my legs were rubber. My head stung from where I’d ripped out my hair. When I touched my scalp, I found blood on my fingers.
Magnus had already got ashore and laid Dee on the ground. I groaned in horror as I beheld the damage: his right leg below the knee was splintered, bone poking out of his shin. His left arm below the elbow was gone, a few strips of torn flesh all that remained. Lines of scarring crisscrossed his face. One eye had been shut forever. His flesh was white with shock.
“Move!” Maria shoved me and got to work. “Make me a tourniquet. Now!”
I tore at my skirt, hands shaking. We tied off the bleeding at his arm, and she rotated his leg so that his pain wasn’t as intense. Maria laid Dee’s head in her lap. Still, he didn’t wake.
“Too much blood loss,” she muttered, wincing. “That leg may have to come off.”
Dear God. Blackwood and Magnus stalked about in a circle, looking painfully helpless. When Maria bid me set my hand on fire and cauterize Dee’s wound, I did, even though I tasted bile while he screamed.
Still, after rechecking his pulse and breath, Maria nodded. “He could still die of the shock. But he may live. He may.”
The immediate emergency began to dissipate. Now we had time to consider our escape from Nemneris.
“How the hell did you do that?” Magnus cried, crouching beside Maria. She became mute. While Blackwood questioned her as well, I held Dee’s hand. And then, slowly, I recalled those prophesied words I’d hung on to earlier:
You shall know her when Poison drowns beneath the dark Waters.
And Lambe’s words: Take the belladonna and you’ll finally know the truth.
My entire body went cold.
Maria was Agrippa’s daughter, a girl of sorcerer parentage who had seen her mother burned: A girl-child of sorcerer stock rises from the ashes of a life.
How had it taken me this bloody long to realize? I stopped the interrogation, making a noise somewhere between a sob and a laugh. When I had the boys’ attention, I said, “She’s the chosen one.”
The three of them regarded me as though I’d lost my mind.
“I’m what?” Maria asked.
I practically crawled to reach her. She looked frightened as I said, “You were foretold by the Speakers. You’re meant to save us.” Should I kiss her hand? Throw my arms about her ankles? How did one embrace a savior?
Maria paled.
“But she is not a sorcerer!” Blackwood found his voice at last. I couldn’t tear my gaze from Maria as I answered him.
“She’s Master Agrippa’s daughter. That makes her more of a sorcerer than I ever could be.” The boys gaped. Recalling the tapestry’s image of the white hand with Agrippa’s seal burned into the palm, I smiled in realization. “The prophecy must have meant the chosen one would come from Agrippa’s bloodline, not that he’d find the girl.” So simple. I’d been so close, thinking it was Gwendolyn.
My trance dissolved when Maria pulled away from me.
“No.” Despite her exhaustion, she looked furious. “I don’t want it.”
“Howel, you could be right.” Blackwood ignored Maria’s words, lost in his own thoughts. “I’ve never seen such power.”
“I don’t want to be your anything!” Her anger fed the wind, which picked up sharply. “Why should I risk myself to save murderers?”
“You’ve risked so much already,” I said, stunned.
“For you, and for Rook, and for my friends, I’d risk everything. But for the Order?” She spit on the ground. Blackwood rose angrily. Waving him down, I approached Maria with care.
“Please.” Maria watched me, her brown eyes wary. “Forget the Order. What of England?”
“England’s done nothing for me.” She balled her fists. Beneath us, the earth shifted in response to her passion.
I sank to my knees, to Maria’s bewilderment.
“What are you doing?”
Taking her hand once more, I bowed my head. When I was a child, Rook and I had played at something like this, acting a scene from the Arthurian tales. A knight knelt at the king’s feet, pledging his loyalty and service. My desperation resonated through my body and into hers. I could sense it.
“I am at your service, now and always. I’ll fight for you, die for you if need be. From this day forward, I swear no one will harm you.”
Maria watched me, wearing a stunned expression. I’d no right to ask this, but I would, because she was stronger than I. From the moment we had met, she was the stronger, the better, the kinder, the wiser person, and England needed her. And while I was not much, I was a servant of England, now and always. “How do you think the Order will feel when a witch is their champion?” That gave her pause. I pressed one final time. “Show the sorcerers the full horror of what they did.”
Maria turned and walked away up the beach, hair whipping about as she gazed out to where the sea and sky met on the horizon. Behind me, the boys remained still and watchful.
Maria came back to us. “Someone must stop that bastard R’hlem.” She gave a tight smile. “Might as well help.”
I wanted to sob as relief and exhaustion swept over me. Maria helped me up while Blackwood tromped over to us.
“Very well. If you’re truly the one prophesied, your timing is perfect.” He looked north. “We’ve got to get to London.”
“What about Dee?” Magnus was doing his best to comfort the boy as he moaned in pain. God, he’d be awake soon, and then his agony would truly begin. “We can’t leave him.”
“We can’t help him.” Blackwood winced but continued. “We need to get to town—”
“And what? Warn people?” Magnus shouted, his eyes red and wild. “The place has probably been under siege for hours by now!”
“We will go and fight,” Blackwood said, every word precise and clean. “That is our duty.”
“To leave a fellow sorcerer to die?” Magnus snapped.
Blackwood glared. “Don’t force me to say these things. His body is broken.” Here, he quieted, in case Dee should hear. “He can’t handle a stave anymore. What can be the good—”
“The good of saving a friend?” Magnus boomed, moving toward Blackwood until they were practically nose to nose. Dee shifted, groaning in pain. Blackwood relented somewhat.
“Howel, stay with Magnus and see that Dee is comfortable until…” Blackwood didn’t finish. “Maria and I will go—”
“No. I can heal him.” Maria returned to Dee’s side, helping Magnus adjust his body. “We can manage.”
“If you are the chosen one, this cannot wait!” Blackwood barked, all but throwing his stave to the ground in frustration. But Maria was right: without her, Dee would die. The capital might collapse, yes, but Dee would be gone. And if Maria was our chosen one, rushing her unprepared into the most brutal kind of danger might be foolish.
“This is our plan.” I interrupted them all. “Maria, you and Magnus stay until Dee is stable, then come to us. Blackwood, we’re going.” I prepared myself for flight, but Blackwood snagged my arm.
“You don’t have the authority!” he cried.
“Neither do you.” Summoning the wind, I lifted unsteadily onto a cushion of air. Magnus ran over.
“Stay,” he said. Unlike Blackwood, he didn’t make it an order. “If R’hlem captures you, God knows what he’ll do.”
I imagined that I knew. A chill walked down my spine, but I was resolved.
Maria understood, because she said, “Let her go. We’ll meet again in London.” Then she returned her attention to Dee. Magnus and Blackwood started arguing; to save us all time, I took off.
I flew half a mile before I had to rest, and drifted to the ground. Kneeling, I waited for Blackwood to land beside me.