The Burning pt. VI
Breadcrumbs fell through the cracks between his fingers as Elan gently tossed small pieces to the pigeons. The loaf beside the food storage unit had become stale, but the pigeons did not mind. His thoughts wandered as he fed the milling birds--
A true shame that he fallen so short on time as he could have the spell broken within a week. The shield was so very thin, but he was out of time. He had calculated that he had till sundown--no more.
Reaching through the misty place where he knew the One Power to reside, Elan seized the Source and filled himself to the brim. It was agonizingly difficult, like trying to lift an ocean or drink a mountain--that was one advantage afforded--it ought to be impossible and certainly would be to anyone but him, but he had power--and plenty of it.
Only the myriad of unanswerable questions kept him from opening a Gateway. He could not be sure what would happen to the spell upon him if he left the plane, and though he would not admit it, Elan did not trust himself to open a dimensional Gateway--the power was too slippery and the Source was... clouded. There was too much finesse required for him to attempt it with Shelley's heart so rife with confusion.
Unfelt beads of sweat dripped down Elan's face.
Besides he had yet to figure out how to remove Shelley from this place or, if truth be told, if he even desired to leave. There was some charm in Naples.
Murmuring softly to himself, Elan smiled, the power disappearing.
"Shall I to Naples and then Milan?"
Chortling, Elan muttered to himself,
"Thoughts of death and of books, my dear Shelley... Ah, a whisper of rest. In this dark night, should I leave my kingdom?"
His mouth twisted as he let the rest of the crumbs fall to the ground, and the pigeons closed in to feed.
"The Second Age will fall--it is the will of Heaven--may I not then quit my island without consequence?"
He certainly had done well enough without his most potent arts, and he could stay with her. She needed him--No one knew her anymore.
With a solemnity like that of an oath, Elan said,
"But this rough magic I here abjure, and, when I have required some heavenly music--which even now I do--to work mine end upon their senses that this airy charm is for, I'll break my staff, bury it certain fathoms in the earth, and deeper than did ever plummet sound I'll drown my book."
Bowing his head, Elan clenched his fest, and sharply, as if to snatch back his previous words from the air, he retorted.
"But not yet! Not yet!"
Smiling wickedly as he laughed, Elan whispered to himself--a few flecks of black drifted across his bright blue eyes.
"I still have some rough magic to work..."
Over a dozen bloody spatters lay all around Elan and pigeon feathers silently rained from above.