And her companion was gone, now that she was in the real world again. There was no one to advise her.
She fought her way through the glue that clogged her mind. Fire. Burning. She was outside Alison's spells, and in control of her own powers now. There must be something Fire could do!
There had been some hints of that in her mother's notes, of a kind of healing that Fire Masters could do, that literally burned out disease and poison. This drug was poison in and of itself.
What did she have to lose? Alison was taking her away somewhere, and it was just lucky she'd broken free of the spell, because otherwise she'd be feeling the compulsions right now.
And at that thought, she felt a cold certainty steal over her, and with it, the fear woke out of its sluggish sleep to seize her heart. Alison knew that. So Alison was planning on it. Why?
She had to clear this poison out of her veins so she could think clearly!
She had only one thing to try. If she waited for the drug to wear off, it might be too late. She
Once again, she turned within, concentrating on another sigil, this time a simple one; just as well, because it kept slipping away from her as she felt herself floating away.
It nearly escaped from her three times before she completed it, and tried to put purpose to it. Its intention was to purify. Could it purify her blood?
Only one way to find out. It seemed to flutter in her mind, like a bird, impatient to fly. It, at least, thought it had a purpose.
She set it free, and let go. If it didn't do what she wanted, there wouldn't be a second chance.
'What did you do with him?' Alison asked, as Locke made his way up the path to the Hoar Stones behind her, with Eleanor slung over his shoulder like a bag of coal. She was impressed in spite of herself; she was accustomed to seeing Locke leave all of the work to his servant, but it appeared he could manage quite a bit by himself. He'd certainly managed to bring Reggie Fenyx here on his own, and he was carrying Eleanor as if her weight was inconsequential.
'He's in the lee of the rocks, just outside the chamber,' Locke replied. 'He's still out cold. I thought you'd want to keep the chamber itself clear so you can work.'
'Very wise. Leave the girl there as well,' Alison said, absentmindedly; they were still a good thirty yards from the Hoar Stones, yet already she could feel its power drawing her. Had the work she'd done here last spring woken some ancient source of magic from a long slumber? Well, if that was so, all the better.
She reached out to the source of the power, greedily, and felt her lips stretching in a grin as it responded to her. Lovely, lovely Earth-born power; whatever purpose the Hoar Stones had been originally meant to serve, over the centuries there had been enough who had used it as a place of sacrifice that the ground here was as blood- soaked as the fields of Flanders. Blood spilled called power, and this sort of power was the kind that answered her hand the best.
She felt like a child in a sweet-shop, told to take what she wanted. Finally, she was going to have it
The power filled her, thick and intoxicating, with the hint of corruption she found so irresistible, and she moved into the chamber as if in a trance as Locke dumped Eleanor beside another bundle of blanket and clothing just outside it. It occurred to her then that Locke was probably stronger than he looked; Reggie Fenyx was no small man, and Locke had somehow manhandled him from the motor all the way up here.
Then again—Locke might have managed to rouse Reggie enough to get him to walk. Even unconscious, a clever use of magic could have gotten Reggie to stumble along in Locke's wake or in front of him. And if he damaged himself somewhat, well, so much the better; he'd
