Will pushed harder. Beyond the midpoint he was at a disadvantage, since distance from the caster was a factor in how effective their will was. That was the reason wizards could generally rely on spell resistance. Once turyn was close enough to come into physical contact, it was nearly impossible for another practitioner to have more influence than the one being contacted. Of course, if Aislinn was to be believed, this spell would ignore that sort of resistance.

  And she can’t lie, Will reminded himself. Lifting his eyes from the deadly magic, he observed his grandmother’s face. What he saw gave him renewed confidence.

  In spite of her eternal beauty and grace, her reputation for unflappability, the so-called goddess of magic was struggling. The fae queen was so enraptured by their battle that her tongue had crept from her lips and she was biting down on it as she strove to best him. It was an expression he’d seen many times on his cousin Sammy’s face, and it was so thoroughly human that Will couldn’t help but be encouraged. Somewhere deep down, one final illusion within Will’s mind was dispelled. His grandmother wasn’t invincible—she had limits, just like everyone else.

  The orb moved back toward Aislinn, and she began to growl in frustration, but the magic wouldn’t stop. Will fought for every inch, and though the battle became tougher the farther the orb got from him, he didn’t relent. The ebon sphere reached his grandmother’s chest, eating effortlessly through the fabric.

  Blood soaked the fae queen’s dress as a circular section of skin disappeared a moment later. She hissed in pain as fat and muscle followed, exposing the bone of her sternum. Soon, the deadly magic would reach her heart, and yet she stubbornly continued to fight. Will could understand why.

  It wasn’t that she cared so much about winning and losing; it was the simple fact that deep down, Aislinn was a prisoner. Born human, her mind rebelled against the endless suffering of her inhuman existence. Being fae, she couldn’t die, couldn’t even attempt to die, but at her core, she wanted a way out, though she wasn’t even capable of saying the words—secretly she hoped he would finish her.

  But her nature wouldn’t allow suicide any more than it would allow lies. As the magic ate through bone, her voice finally rang out, “I admit defeat.”

  Will pulled the deadly magic back, then unraveled the spell. Seeing his grandmother’s ruined flesh, he couldn’t help but feel guilty, but he knew better than to allow sympathy to soften his words. “One hour, then. You’ll answer all questions freely without recompense.”

  She nodded.

  In the past, there had always been limitations, a question for a question, or some other price. Today was the first time he could ask for it all. One of his two unbound favors could have accomplished the same thing, but the contest had been his first question, and one that couldn’t have been answered otherwise. “Whose will is stronger, yours or Grim Talek’s?”

  Aislinn smiled. “It has been over a century since we fought directly. When Arrogan and I faced the lich together, he was stronger, but between us, we overcame him. If not for his undead allies and hidden phylactery, we might have put an end to him.”

  Will frowned. He’d hoped for a different answer.

  “But my strength has grown since then,” she added, “while his has changed little.”

  “He’s much older. Age is an advantage, isn’t it?”

  His grandmother nodded. “But not as much as you might think. Your will increases the most in the early years and less as time goes by. After existing for several millennia, I doubt the lich’s will grows by more than the tiniest drop with each year. By comparison, I am a youngster of less than a thousand years, and you, sweet child, are but a babe. You have grown strong beyond all expectation, and while you may have achieved the majority of your strength now, you still have some to gain, certainly more than I do and much more than that struggling corpse. If I am not stronger than that fiend, I would be surprised.” She smiled. “You played a deadly game to judge yourself against your ally indirectly?”

  “Not only him,” said Will. “Even if there’s diminishing gains with age, I don’t understand how either of us could be close to him in strength if he’s as old as you say.”

  “Those without a source suffer from a serious disadvantage, William. That’s why undead wizards lose their greater talents. The lich was probably stronger when he was alive, and if he’s managed to reach parity with his former self, it is only because of his vast age.”

  “One of them described himself as ‘fourth-order’ to me,” said Will.

  Aislinn smirked. “A euphemism to make themselves feel better about what they have lost. While freedom from death grants time to perfect one’s spellcraft, it’s a bitter consolation and poor replacement for the glorious sensation of subverting the currents of the world to one’s own purpose.”

  “Do you miss it?”

  “I am not dead, Grandson, merely changed.”

  “But your human self is gone. You are Aislinn only in name and memories, correct? Doesn’t that mean you’ve lost your source, and thus your talents?”

  She smiled. “You plumb secrets never revealed to mortal ears. You are right in the essence of it, but while my humanity and the source I was born with are gone, they have been replaced by something else.”

  “A piece of this place,” said Will, gesturing vaguely to the verdant forest around them.

  She nodded. “It is very much like a source, but it provides near limitless turyn whilst I abide within this realm. In your world, ley lines are required to power the greatest magics, things I can do here on little more than a whim. My old talents are not so much gone as transformed.”

  “And yet Arrogan was able to best Elthas whenever they fought.”

  “Elthas was a fool, and no wizard,” said his grandmother with obvious derision. “I was bound to him only by my oath. Never make the mistake of attempting to challenge me here as your grandfather did with the forest lord.”

  Will smiled.

  “Your strength of will is hard to credit, but I feel sure you’re wise enough to realize what would happen if we engaged in a broader conflict,” she warned.

  He agreed with her, but it wasn’t a statement to be acknowledged while he stood within her realm, especially without an agreement of a truce in place. He had negotiated only for answers, not safety. An open admission of weakness might force Aislinn to capitalize upon it. He moved on to his next topic instead. “I have questions regarding the gate magics you provided me with. I’ve succeeded with teleportation, including without beacons, but gates are proving more difficult.” He summoned the notes he had made from the limnthal along with a small camp table to lay them on.

  Over the course of the next half hour, Aislinn tutored him as she might have done Arrogan once, centuries past, answering questions and pointing out mistakes in his thinking. Will had made several errors in his interpretation of the journals, but one problem still remained. “Assuming I didn’t screw things up in some different way, I still should have had a partial success previously, or at the very least a catastrophic failure. Instead, there was nothing.”

  “Were you using a ley line?”

  He shook his head. “I was at Rimberlin House, but it was just a tiny gate I was experimenting with.”

  “Then you didn’t have the power necessary.”

  “It was tiny,” he insisted.

  “Since you’ve teleported yourself, you think you have an idea of the power required?” she asked rhetorically. “Trust me. You do not. To create even a temporary tear in reality and join two disparate places or planes is no trivial task.”

  “You do it,” he said flatly.

  “From this plane. Here, I am a goddess in more than name or rumor. In this place, I command nearly limitless energies. Think to yourself, have you ever seen me create a gate from your world that did not touch this realm? In Hercynia I can still create gates, but only if they connect to this plane. I could not create one that went elsewhere, for that I would have to come here first—or use a ley line.”

  Her words made sense, but he still had questions. “The dragon did it while flying, and I’m sure there was no ley line there. Care to explain that?”

  “My knowledge of dragons is limited. Your lich likely knows more, but if what you say is true, I can say this. The dragon is possessed of power at least as great as a ley line, or greater still, like mine while within this realm. Keep that in mind during your calculus for the battle to come.”

  That was sobering, but Will had little time to waste. “Do you know of a way to kill the dragon?”

  “No.”

  “Do you have any hints regarding the whereabouts of Grim Talek’s phylactery?”

  “None, other than that he does not carry it with him,” she answered.

  “Do you know anything about what Selene is working on?”

  “My information is limited since you warned her about the ring. Before she put it away, I observed many things. Your wife is versatile and intelligent. Her claim to being able to advance the state of the medical arts is no idle boast. You should admire her but remain wary, for she’s taken to necromancy like a duck to water.”

  Frowning, he asked, “What does that mean?”

  Aislinn shrugged. “Little to me, but my old self would have had opinions. Would you care to hear them?”

  It had only happened once before, in the early days after he had first met his so-called grandmother. He’d asked her to speak as the woman she once was, and now he was tempted to do so again, though he feared the emotions she might evoke with her roleplay. After a moment’s consideration, he nodded. “Speak as your former self.”

  The transformation was immediate and frightening, as Aislinn’s features, demeanor, and posture somehow communicated a complete shift, from heartless cruelty to tragic sorrow. “Your wife is at a crossroads with her art. Her path will be driven by the motivations of her heart, which is always dangerous. Your love may save or damn her, and fond as I am of her, I worry more about what she might do to you.”

  He watched her face, but from the corner of his eye, Will could see his grandmother’s hands had opened, reaching toward him almost involuntarily. He took a small step back. “That’s too vague.”

  Aislinn nodded. “Hold her close and you might keep her from dark temptations; spurn her and she may delve into darker arts. The key to either choice is love, but there’s no way to be sure what will happen. Despair is your enemy.”

  “Again, too vague.”

  His grandmother shook her head. “I don’t have anything concrete. I’ve seen her working with patients, and what she’s doing is nothing short of miraculous. My words are nebulous because I can only share my intuition based on centuries of experience. Every form of power offers temptations, but necromancy offers unique corruptions for body and spirit. If she falls into despair, she will see that there are many ways to turn her new knowledge against the enemy, but necromancy turned to war leads only to evil.

  “Look at me, William. Am I not a perfect warning? Look at what I have become.” A solitary tear rolled down one cheek. “If she falls into darkness, you will reject her, of that I have no doubt, and then she will become an enemy you have no hope of overcoming. Your heart will become your weakness, for no matter how great your strength is, I fear you could never turn it against the one you love.”

  The emotion radiating from Aislinn was overwhelming, and despite knowing it was merely an act, Will couldn’t help but be moved. “Enough,” he declared. “I understand your meaning, but you still haven’t given me any details regarding her current work.”

  Like a light extinguished, the compassion illuminating his grandmother’s features vanished in the blink of an eye, leaving only inhuman dispassion. “Other than her efforts with the sick, the main project I observed involves your overlarge friend, but in my opinion, it is a harmless endeavor with only tangential influences from the lich’s techniques. You should applaud her, for she has found a way to nullify your worst tendencies when it comes to receiving aid from a friend.”

  “My worst tendencies?”

  “Your refusal to allow them to share your risk. Selene is working on something similar to a golem but with more refinement. The golems of old were always limited by their lack of true intelligence.”

  Will was unfamiliar with the term. “This is the first I’ve heard of them.”

  Aislinn smirked. “Imagine a doll that moves under its own power. Your wife is crafting something similar to enable your friend to fight beside you without endangering himself. Are you not pleased?”

  He felt vaguely uneasy and mildly irritated. “I never asked for that. How is she doing it?”

  The queen of the fae shrugged. “This is new magic, and I was only able to observe briefly. She has kept the finer details of her work concealed even from me.”

  Rubbing his chin, Will asked, “But you’re sure it isn’t dangerous to her, or Tiny?”

  “I am sure of nothing, Grandson, but her accomplice in this is your friend Janice. Given her intelligence, not to mention her vested interest in your knight’s personal wellbeing, I think it unlikely that they will harm him.”

  Will’s eyes narrowed. Even with a guarantee of truth and unlimited questions, he didn’t trust his grandmother. “It took you long enough to tell me what Selene was doing, despite our agreement. Why?”

  “I have an internal motivation that goes against some of the oaths I am bound by, preventing me from communicating without at least attempting to divert your attention away from some matters,” she admitted.

  Realizing they were dancing around matters that could quickly turn dangerous, Will probed carefully. “By internal motivation you mean a desire that is independent of your condition?”

  “Define condition.”

  “Your nature as one of the fae.”

  She nodded. “That is an accurate way of expressing it.”

  “What’s the subject of that motivation?”

  Aislinn’s lips parted, then closed. Briefly, Will could see frustration flicker across her features as she struggled to find words that would convey her meaning without violating some other limit set upon her. A second later, she answered, “Your success.”

  Will had long thought that his grandmother secretly hoped he would win, perhaps almost as strongly as she secretly wished for her own extinction, but it wasn’t something he could trust, for no matter what she truly wanted, Aislinn was bound by the rules of the fae. Sentimentality would only make him more vulnerable if he allowed his emotions to color his dealings with her. In this case, the rules forced her to answer him, but Aislinn feared her answers would undermine his chances.

  “You’re worried I’ll try to stop Selene from making this golem?”

  She bowed her head slightly. “In matters regarding your friends and family, you invariably make poor choices if you think it will help them.”

  Fair enough, Will thought. I deserve that. As much as he wanted to examine that issue, he was running out of time, though. “Tell me about your agreements with the other powers involved in all of this.”

  “Are you attempting to bring about my death?” asked the fae queen.

  Oops. He needed to be more specific. If the current requirement that she answer any question ran directly counter to one of her other immutable entanglements, it would kill her, for whether she answered or refused, it would violate one of them. “Answer only when possible, but if a conflict exists, merely tell me that instead. Do you have an agreement with the dragon?”

  “Yes.”

  A rapid-fire succession of questions followed, during which Will was able to ascertain that the fae had agreements to share information regarding him with both the dragon and the elves, though in the case of the latter it seemed mostly to be a case of staying informed. The elves had no intention of entering the fray unless their own realm was threatened. As expected, there were no arrangements with the lich, but the demons were a more interesting question. “Do you have a deal with the demons?”

  Aislinn’s teeth showed as she flashed a predatory grin. “Not since you eliminated Madrok.”

  “So you’re free to act against them without restriction?”

  She licked her lips in anticipation. “I am free to accept a bargain to their detriment. My people never act without reason. Favors must be exchanged.”

  “It’s a good thing I happen to have a couple of favors waiting to be redeemed then,” Will replied, showing a dangerous smile.

  Chapter 35

  Their hour had come to an end, but Will was now ready to make a deal. “I would like to use one of the favors you owe me. To discuss it, I propose another half hour, no hostilities allowed.”

  “With the usual restrictions on information,” added his grandmother.

  He nodded. “Of course. Nothing free unless I specify it as a condition of satisfying the favor once it is defined.”

  “Agreed.”

  “I want you to create a gate for me at a certain time and place,” said Will, jumping straight to it.

  “Where and when?” she asked. When he told her, she immediately shook her head. “That’s impossible for me.”

  Will assumed it was because the gate didn’t connect with the fae realm on either side, so he clarified, “There’s an intersection of ley lines there. Power won’t be an obstacle; I simply need someone with your skill.”

  “Still impossible. It conflicts with a prior agreement.”

  “With whom?”

  His grandmother smiled. “That isn’t pertinent to this deal. Will you answer a question in return?” When he nodded, she answered, “The agreement that would be violated is the accord you made with me after the old one was broken. You didn’t trust yourself to negotiate an entirely new accord, so you stipulated it would be the same as the old one, with only the minor changes you specified. The old accord specifically forbade the fae from creating any portal or gateway connecting your realm to any other.”