Damsel Under Stress (Page 115)
“I don’t think it’s serious,” I said. “I just can’t move. Trust me, this guy doesn’t ever do anything really serious, and he’ll lose interest before long.” The blue flame was coming closer to me, and growing in intensity. I had a feeling it wouldn’t have done anything to me in my magical immune state. Now, there was no telling what might happen, and it didn’t look like the kind of fire a fire extinguisher could put out. Marcia tried stomping on it, then she blew on it, like she was trying to blow out a candle.
“No!” I said to stop her. “It’s not a candle. If you blow on a fire, it gets more intense.”
The magical battle continued to rage. Marcia yelped as Rod was tossed aside and hit a wall, and I winced when Idris sent a chunk of rock flying toward Owen. Owen got out of the way in time to avoid all but a glancing blow, but it seemed to me he staggered a little.
The flame came closer and closer to me. I was sweating, and not just from the fear. It was getting awfully hot. I was all for saving the world from bad magic, but that didn’t mean I wanted to pull a Joan of Arc. I’d like to think I’d be willing to sacrifice myself to save the world, but when you’re staring at flames coming very close to making that a reality, it has a way of changing your perspective.
“You’re awfully calm about this,” Marcia said.
“All in a day’s work, I’m afraid.”
“I guess this is why you’ve been acting weird, huh?”
“Yeah. It was kind of hard to talk about, and I wasn’t allowed to tell you about magic.”
Just as I’d expected from my association with Idris, the flame started to die. I could move my fingers and toes, which wasn’t very useful, but it was a good sign. He wasn’t great at multitasking, so when he got sidetracked by fighting Owen, he couldn’t sustain what he was doing to me.
“Yes, it is,” Sylvia said. “If you don’t call off your dragons, she will die.” Now, I was worried. Idris was a flake, but Sylvia was focused, powerful, and kind of a bitch. I had no doubt that she’d kill me to secure her own escape.
Owen whistled, and the dragons left the doorways to come to his side. “You’re free to go,” he said, his voice even softer than usual. It still carried clearly and echoed in the cavern. “Release Katie.”
And then a lot of things happened very quickly. Sylvia shouted, “Release her yourself,” and ran for the exit. Idris grabbed Ari’s hand and ran after her. Ari pulled back at him, slowing his escape. Mr. Bones got ahead of them and took off down the tunnel while they struggled with one another. The fire singed the edges of my shoes, but then Owen whirled to do something to it. For the first time since I’d known him, there was real fear—panic, even—in his eyes.
Merlin went after Sylvia, Ari, Idris, and the henchmen, shooting spells to restrain them, but Owen called to him, “It’s a layered spell, I can’t stop it alone.” Merlin hesitated only for a second, then spun to join Owen.
I’d barely felt the flames lick at my feet when they vanished entirely and I could move again. I swayed and for a moment thought my legs might buckle under me, but I caught myself, got my legs under me, and took off running. “Don’t let them get away!” I shouted as I ran.
The dragons had tried to go after the bad guys but could only go so far before they were too large to get into the passages. I didn’t have that problem. I could see Ari and Idris ahead of me, him dragging her behind him. Sylvia must have been ahead of them. Ari finally broke free, and that gave me the chance to catch up with her and tackle her. Owen caught up with me and sidestepped Ari and me on the ground as he ran after Idris and Sylvia.
I felt the tingle of magic while I tried to get a better hold on Ari. Merlin then reached Ari and me and said, “I have her. You may get up now, Miss Chandler.” I stood shakily. Ari still lay on the ground, but she looked up at me in an odd way, with some of her usual hostility gone. That was more than a bit unnerving as I remembered that she’d had access to the inside of my head. How much did she know about me? Merlin waved at her, and she shrank back down to a point of light, like the way they depict Tinkerbell in stage productions of Peter Pan. Another wave of his hand sent the point of light to rest inside his vest pocket. “She should be safe there,” he said, lightly patting the pocket. He then held out his arm to me and escorted me back into the main chamber, where the dragons hovered anxiously near the exit where Owen had disappeared.