Last Dragon Standing (Heartstrikers #5)(78)
“I’ll help as well,” said the woman with the nettles. “I don’t know what I do yet, but I will aid you if I can, Marci the Merlin.”
With that, all the Mortal Spirits began to nod. Some of them violently, some awkwardly, as if they still weren’t sure what they were agreeing to. But while many of the Mortal Spirits clearly weren’t all there yet, none of them walked away, which was good enough for her.
The other camp was less optimistic. Now that her eyes had gotten used to the dark, Marci could see just how much smaller the crowd of land and animal spirits was. They were still huge compared to her, but next to looming shadows of the Mortal Spirits, they looked tiny. Small and scared, their dark shapes huddled around Wolf and Vann Jeger, who were still the only two who’d come forward. But while the whispers from their group were angry, Algonquin must have been the only one who was truly willing to die to spite the Mortal Spirits, because a few minutes later, Wolf stepped forward.
“What do you need of us?”
It took everything Marci had not to collapse in relief. “Your magic.”
It didn’t seem possible, but Wolf looked even less pleased. “How much?”
There was no good way to say it, so Marci just spit it out.
“All of it.”
The words were barely out of her mouth before every spirit balked.
“All our magic?” the bloody man cried. “But we just got it back!”
“We’re not giving all of our magic to a mortal!” Vann Jeger yelled at the same time. “What guarantee do we have you won’t keep it and start the drought all over again?”
“Come on,” Marci snapped, glaring at him. “You, of all spirits, should know how much I like being a mage. Do you really think I’d give that up? Give up Ghost?” She scoffed. “No way. And yes, I really do need all of your magic. We’re talking about banishing something as big as Algonquin. That takes world-class power, and in this world, that means you.”
“But how will you use it?” the bloody man asked. “Where will we go?”
“The only circle big enough is the Heart of the World,” Marci said apologetically. “I know you just got out of there, but I swear it’ll only be for a moment. Once I’ve gathered your magic, I’ll cast the banish and blow up the Leviathan, scattering Algonquin’s power and everything else. Since you’re all immortal spirits, you’ll just fall back into your vessels to rise again once things calm down, but the Nameless End will be left high and dry. When that happens, our plane will shove him back out into the void between worlds, and we’ll all be free.”
The spirits began muttering again as they discussed this. Marci waited impatiently, biting her lip as the whispers dragged on and on. Then, as if he were just as fed up with waiting as she was, Vann Jeger threw up his arms and stomped over to Marci.
“No one ever won a battle putting off the inevitable,” he said, his words breaking like ice as he put out his giant hand. “When this is done, you shall again be my sworn enemy, dragon lover, but for now…” He trailed off, staring up at the pillar of the Merlin Gate with a mix of hate and resignation. “Show me where to jump.”
“Right this way,” Marci said, turning around so he wouldn’t see her triumphant smile. “Just let me see if Myron has the landing pad ready.”
***
Myron did not have the landing pad ready. Marci wasn’t sure how long she’d spent talking to the spirits—time flowed a bit wonky in the Sea of Magic, and it wasn’t as though her soul had a watch—but it felt like enough time to patch up a circle. When she returned to the Heart of the World, though, Myron and the DFZ were still elbow-deep in preparations. Soggy bits of spellworked leaves and rocks were scattered everywhere, making the island mountaintop look like a yard after a big storm. When Marci nudged one of the branches aside so she’d have somewhere to stand, Myron shouted at her, stomping over to put the branch back exactly as it had been.
“Please tell me you’re almost done,” Marci groaned, squeezing her feet into the one bit of clear mountaintop left. “I’ve got every spirit in the world lined up to help, but it won’t count for squat if they’ve got nowhere to go.”
“Sorry to lag behind,” Myron snarled. “But I’m doing my best to pull off the impossible here, and that’s hard enough without you stomping all over my matrices.”
“He’s in a bad mood,” the DFZ informed her. “His first attempt didn’t work.”
“If you want to be useful, get in here and help me hold all of this in place,” Myron said, gesturing at the interlocking maze of wet leaves he’d layered over the top of the broken seal.
Marci tiptoed through the chaos and put her hands where he pointed. “How much longer do you—”
“It’ll be done when it’s done,” he snapped as he laid down another layer. Sticks, this time. “I’m using the mountain’s existing spellwork to save time, but it took forever to gather materials with everything being underwater. Shiro was helping, but then he had to go deal with the situation downstairs.”
Marci frowned. “What’s happening downstairs?”
“The Leviathan’s tentacles are starting to creep into the base of the pillar,” the DFZ said, handing another armload of sticks to Myron.