Last Dragon Standing (Heartstrikers #5)(79)
“Are you kidding?” Marci cried frantically. “This place was built to be a magical collection chamber! If he gets his slimy tendrils into the Heart of the World, he’ll be able to suck all the power out of our plane like he’s drinking it through a straw!”
“Why do you think I’m working so fast?” Myron said testily, nudging the last stick into position. “There, that’s done. Now I just have to…” He spread his hands over the layer of leaves and twigs, closing his eyes as the green light began to rise from the maze of spellworked foliage. As it lit up, Marci felt the magic working through every part of the submerged mountain below, but it wasn’t until the stone itself began to shift that she realized what Myron had done.
“Holy—” She backed away, eyes widening as the leaves and twigs began to burn themselves into the seal, forming a patch over the crack that had split the stone circle. “You reordered the mountain?!”
When they’d first arrived, one of the things that had blown Marci away most about the Heart of the World was how everything—the rocks, the trees, the leaves, the grass, even the pebbles—was crafted from spellwork. The whole place was a giant circle, the biggest spell ever made, and Myron had just made it bigger. He hadn’t just taken spellwork from below and repurposed it. He’d woven his own school of labyrinth magic into the work of the ancient Merlins, adding new spellwork not just on top of, but into the finished matrix of an already functional circle. That was hard enough to do with normal spells, but Myron had done it on the most complicated magical artifice ever constructed. Even more impressive, he’d done it in hours rather than years, but the most amazing part of all was the fact that it worked.
The crack in the stone seal that had once held all the world’s magic was healing in front of Marci’s eyes, the labyrinth of leaves and twigs melting into the spellworked stone as though they’d always been part of it. When the green light finally faded, the stone circle at the center of the mountain was whole once again. Not perfect—the patch job was obvious—but it held together when Marci knocked on it, and she looked up at Myron in awe.
“That’s impressive.”
“I’m aware,” Myron said, brushing off his hands with a superior smile. “I am the world’s greatest mage.”
Any other time, Marci would have rolled her eyes. This time, though, Myron had earned his bragging, and she applauded accordingly. “Bravo.”
“Thank you,” he said, looking around. “So where are these spirits you were boasting about?”
Now it was Marci’s turn to show off. She walked to the line in the stone that served as the temporary Merlin Gate since the official entrance was underwater and grabbed hold of the magic that kept the barrier closed. The spellwork yielded easily to her now that she was officially a Merlin, allowing her to peel the bright air back like a curtain to reveal what was waiting in the chaos outside.
Raven flew through first, followed immediately by Vann Jeger. The bleeding man came in third, his bloodshot eyes wide as he looked around at the island in wonder.
“Is all of this yours?” he whispered to Marci.
“It’s ours,” she replied warmly, turning to Myron. “Did you remember to build an entrance into your seal?”
“Of course,” Myron said as he gave the giant stone circle a shove. “Hop in.”
Marci’s jaw dropped. The very first time she’d come up here, she’d thought that the circular stone at the center of the mountain looked like the cap on a well. Now, she saw that she’d been right. The giant seal—which had always felt as solid as the mountain itself whenever Marci had touched it—moved easily when Myron pushed it, sliding aside like it was on tracks to reveal a shaft that went straight down into the stone below.
“It was a well,” she said breathlessly.
“More like an access port,” Myron replied. “You don’t put water into a well. But this is by far the easiest way into the Heart of the World’s holding chamber. So, as they say in your country”—he pointed down the deep, dark hole—“Geronimo.”
“No Native American says that,” Raven chirped as he hopped to the edge of the pit. “It is big down there, isn’t it?”
“It held all the magic in the world at one point,” Marci reminded him. “But I promise it won’t be for long this time.” She turned to the doorway where the other spirits were waiting. “We won’t even put the seal back on. I just need you to lend me your magic for a few minutes, and then you’ll all be returned to your vessels.”
The dark shapes shuffled nervously, but Vann Jeger pushed his way to the front. “Enough coddling,” he growled, shoving Raven aside. “I am not afraid.” He glared down at Marci. “I am the immortal hunter, and I will be back to hunt you and your dragon again, in this life or the next. For now, though, I will do what must be done.”
With that, he stepped off the edge, dissolving into water as he fell into the dark.
Marci held her breath, waiting for the splash at the bottom, but she didn’t hear a thing. The spirit was simply gone, eaten by the mountain below.
“That was anticlimactic,” Raven said, fluttering up so the other spirits could see him. “All right, you all saw where the Geirangerfjord went, so let’s hop to! The world won’t save itself.”