Delia Fernbrook's Arc

Chapter 3 of 3

Delia knelt beside the stone ring and knew the cage was losing. The bound serpent slammed its coiled shape against the rock. Cracks spread through the tallest stone. Moss peeled away in strips. She had planned for a docile spirit, not this. If the ring broke, the beast would turn on her first. She pressed both palms to the stone and fed the binding more of herself. The cracks slowed but did not stop. Her arms shook. She had done this once with the river spirit and paid with a month in bed. This spirit was stronger. She could not hold it alone. A cold light dropped from the trees. A white bird landed on the far stone, wings edged with frost. Its feathers threw pale light across the water. Delia had never called it. It came the way animals always came to her. She had no time to wonder why. "Help me," she said. "Or die when it breaks free." A man walked out of the frost-light behind the bird. He wore a gold crown and carried himself like someone used to being obeyed. He looked at the straining serpent, then at her. "You built a trap you cannot hold," he said. "I know that. Can you help or not?" He studied the ring. "Every cage has one weak stone. Feed that one. Let the rest go." Delia looked. He was right. She had spread her will across all the stones evenly. She lifted her hands from the ring and pressed them to the cracked stone alone. She poured everything into it. The serpent lunged. The white bird spread its wings and threw a wall of cold across the ring. Frost crept up the stones. The serpent's dark coil slowed in the sudden chill. Its strikes grew heavy and dull. Delia drove the last of her strength into the cracked stone. The crack sealed. The moss flared white, then went still. The serpent sank low in the ring, pinned again, watching her with flat eyes. The stone held. She fell back onto the wet grass, empty. The bird folded its wings. The man in the crown crouched beside the ring and looked at the bound thing with plain interest. "It is not tame," he said. "It only rests." "I know." Her voice came out thin. "I bound it. I could not make it obey." He stood. "A thing that hates you is not a servant. It is a second enemy inside your own walls." Delia stared at the serpent. She had won the cage and lost the familiar. The spirit was caught, but it would never serve her. It would only wait for her to weaken. "Then I need to break it," she said. "Not just hold it." The man watched her a moment. "That is a harder duel," he said. Then he turned and walked back into the fading light.