Beatrix sat by the window seat in the upmarket Druids' Blessing Tavern. Rosa had a bedroom with her brother. Clarence and Beatrix shared. There had been some trouble with Bobbin and Beatrix being allowed to stay. The Druids' Blessing rarely admitted Humans, so Clarence ended up paying more for the privilege. The rooms had real mattresses stuffed with feathers suspended on ropes that were slung between the bedframes. The window had glass in it, and the candles were beeswax, not tallow. Even the fire was pleasant, and burnt logs, not green wood and dried dung. She looked out over a high white wall into a heavy set of trees which obscured her view of the Druid temple beyond. "In my world-" she paused and looked at Clarence as if expecting him to shut her up, but he didn't. "In my world, there was the Church and the State. In our history the Church had a function like the Druids, offering charity, guidance, administering the law, and the state was like your magical nobility- making the rules, collecting the taxes and forming defence." She paused, and he wondered why she was making the comparison. "Over the time that system ran, a ruling family never was in power for over two hundred years."
"That's your world," Clarence shrugged. "If the life tree doesn't burn green, the Empire has no ruler. The O'Leary family has been on the Leprechaun throne for five thousand years."
"Rosa told me that the Druid Temple has a spa with waters that will cure skin ailments like blisters and once a year the Druids open it up for pilgrims to use?"
"That's right."
"On the midsummer and midwinter's solstice?"
He nodded.
"Apparently the roof of the spa is shrouded in midnight and sparkles like the stars in the heavens and the temple floor is covered in grass and the pools of water are as warm as skin to the touch."
"It's not open and it won't be for months," He observed her. She was skirting a bigger issue.
"I know but-" she winced, "I just want to see something extraordinary. You disappeared at Porlock Weir, right in front of my eyes, and ever since I've wondered what else there is that people can do."
"I can do it again if you wish," he shrugged, and he came to sit with her. Outside was so bleak it looked like it was about to snow. "Light, I wish they would hurry."
It was half an hour at least since the Humanist soldiers had climbed out of Clarence's window, across the branch of the tree that brushed the roof of the Inn and snuck into the Druid's territory.
Beatrix's eyes never left Clarence, "Tell me about the Humanists?" she asked.
"I'd rather not." He patted his pockets to find his tobacco. Beatrix kicked him. He rubbed his shin and gave in.
"They want as their name suggests-"
"And you are one?"
"Yes- I was, I-" He paused, before Earth he would have not hesitated to tell her he was a Humanist through and through. Ready to fight for Humans to have their rights. But seeing what they did to Earth gave him pause for thought. "I still want Human equality."
"Doesn't every human?"
Clarence shrugged and turned his head to look out of the warped, tiny squares of glass. "The Council believes that Humans are a weak species who need protecting. That they are un-evolved."
She picked under her nail and looked out the window again. "So Bobbin pins his hope on you, because nobody who matters would listen to him."
"I won't go back, even if it means going against my principles and turning my back on the Humanists. I can't."
The moment between them hung in the air, heavy with unspoken excuses. A bell started to toll and Beatrix strained to look out the window, "I can't see a thing," she complained as the door banged open and Rosa stood wide-eyed with a dagger in her hand.
"Something went wrong," she stated. "We need to run."
Nobody asked how she knew, they just grabbed their bags and followed her. Down in the stables they got their horses prepared to leave, but as they did, the coach doors opened and three men slid in. Clarence saw the glint of icy steel in their hands. He told the girls to carry on preparing and he drew his sword and moved through the shadows to meet them. The soldiers spotted the girls and one shouted: "Where is the Prince?"
"He's here," Clarence said as his sword sliced the neck of the first attacker. As he crumbled to the floor, the second man shot a jet of wind at the spot Clarence had been before. He recognised the Windlord as soon as his state changed from solid to gas. Still invisible, Clarence Split Projected into two and made his other self visible again. The Windlord took the bate and as he rushed to attack the false Clarence the real one stabbed him in the back but the moment he made his move the third attacker was on him, steel rang against steel, Beatrix shrieked and at the moment she made the noise he lost concentration and felt the bite of the sword in his arm. The pain made him furious, and he turned his blade and rammed it through the soft palate of the man's mouth. Three dead and more likely to come. Clarence swore, and he ran to the horses. As he climbed onto Cobalt, Bobbin rushed in. Limping from a deep cut in his upper thigh.
"Go!" Bobbin cried, "More are-" He didn't bother to finish what he was saying.
He pulled himself up after his sister as the three horses sped out of the stables.
"They were waiting for us," he shouted as the horses took a right then left. "Head to Street."
Beatrix led the charge. She said she knew Glastonbury well from her own world and although the streets were different; the geography was similar, and she set off in the right direction. Behind her, Clarence's arm throbbed. His blood trickled down his sleeve. Rosa's horse tried desperately to keep up. When they were sure they were not followed they slowed the horses and checked themselves over.
Bobbin jumped from the horse, stumbled and crashed into the grass at the side of the muddy track across the marsh land. Clarence looked down at him with a frown. He didn't know what to think, other than the whole attempt at a rescue was poorly done with little plan and no genuine hope of achieving anything.
"Lord Stanley's men are all dead," Bobbin spat. "I'm only alive because I went in a different direction. My job was to open the east gate to allow them to exit with Fred and cover their retreat, but they didn't come. Instead, the whole fucking standing army was waiting for us. There's a trace on you, Clarence, they knew everything." He spat on the floor and pushed himself up, his face red with anger.
"I wasn't sure."
"You bloody fool!" he cried. "From now on I'll blindfold you!" and he stumbled towards Clarence as if to pull him off his horse.
"That's not needed," Rosa told her brother as she looked through her pack. "There's a song remember- Half a pound of heather, half a pound of mace, moss from a peat bog and that will break a trace."
"Oh grow up," Bobbin sneered. "Those Elf potions don't work."
"Yes they do," Rosa and Clarence said at the same time.
"Can you find the right stuff?" Clarence asked her, his heart leaping at the idea that they might escape further detection.
"I can get everything we need in Street," Rosa told him with confidence, "Maybe there we can get you both patched up too."
Beatrix walked her horse away from them. She was grinding her teeth and her eyes were shining with tears, but Clarence was too involved in his own drama to help her resolve hers. "Was Fred there?" he asked Bobbin. "Was he inside the abbey?"
"Yes, he was," Bobbin told him. "And I expect they think you will try again before they move on. By tomorrow the whole of Glastonbury and Street will crawl with soldiers, we'd be better off going to one of the smaller villages or on to Wells."
"The Druid's have an even larger presence in Wells," Clarence cautioned, and he hid his sword under his cloak. "We'll go to Street and sort out the next bit once they can't track me anymore."
In Street the dejected party found solace in a busy inn called the Stout Pig. Rosa went to the market and then prepared the concoction to break the trace. Bobbin paid for a physician to heal their wounds from the fighting.
Once healed but still waiting for Rosa's potion, Clarence found his way to the busy bar. "Well," he said to Beatrix as she handed him a flagon of ale, "You wanted to see the magical community, here they are." Indeed, the Stout Pig was a traveler's rest for the magical community. He thought it might cheer her up to stay in a place like this.
She sniffed and didn't meet his eye.
Clarence was not to be deterred. If he kept talking she may drop whatever bothered her and start to cheer up again. "That ginger-haired man is a Necromancer, see the armband, he's a Grey Six which means he's most likely a middle-ranked soldier affiliated with a training facility run by a man called Lord Perciville. Doesn't look like he's on active duty though, their official uniforms aren't black hunting leather and silver jewellery so he's a mercenary I suppose. The physician that just healed me is over by the fire with two others that seem of a similar profession. There's a group of Witches by the bar not bothering to hide their magical signature and that man who keeps going gaseous by the door is a Windlord." He watched a tall, tanned, travel-worn man move past him to join the Necromancer, and he cocked his head. He was sure he'd seen him before, but the mountain of muscle didn't give off a magical signature. If he could hide it- it meant he was well trained.
Next to him, Beatrix slammed her empty drink down and turned to ask the barman for another.
"What?" Clarence snapped. Here he was making an effort to cheer her up and she was still miserable. If he had realised she would be so set on it, he would have taken them to some human friendly inn where a room was a few coppers. At least then he would be miserable but still have enough money to buy food.
"Don't you feel bad?" She asked, her voice wavering. "I always told myself that your fights were a sport, that you didn't intend to hurt anybody but today you-"
He grabbed her arm and leaned closer, "Not here." Light! She was upset about that.
"How many people have you killed Clarence?" she hissed, her eyes shining with fear. He recoiled from her, he'd never felt shame like it.
"Bea-" Words failed him. He had slaughtered the Druids- and if he had not they would all be in chains on their way back to the Capital. He opened his mouth to try and justify himself but she took the drink from the barman and left him.
To his horror she went up to a woman with chestnut red hair that appeared to be part of the party with the Necromancer and the gargantuan man. Red was shuffling cards, and Beatrix asked her if she could play. He watched the woman smile. Her eyes flicked to Clarence, who dropped his and turned away.
Rosa rescued him. The concoction was ready, and he followed her from the bar, leaving Beatrix at the mercy of her new 'friends.'
Rosa sat Clarence in the centre of the room. She had made a faggot with the bundle of herbs, and she lit it with her flint stone.
"Are you ready?"
"I don't know," Clarence grumbled. "I just breath and focus my magic on the sensation?"
Rosa nodded, "I guess so." she turned her eyes up to him. "Why is your mouth like a dog's asshole?"
He nodded to the faggot, "Let's just get this over with, Rosa."
Her eyes lingered on him, "Fine. I'm sorry I don't know more magic. Nobody ever bothered to give me the chance to learn," she snapped. Clarence rolled his eyes as he realised that she too had misunderstood his mood.
"It wasn't a comment about your ability," Clarence told her. "Your powers are remarkable regardless."
She curled her lip, "Let's just get this over with," she mimicked and snatched up the flint stone to light it.
Once it was smoking, she held it up to Clarence's face, and he forced his mind to go blank as he breathed in the acrid smoke. The mace burned like acid but the pain only heightened his senses and as he concentrated on his magic; he felt the connection that linked him to the Innismen burn just like the smell. They had his hair, an entire load of it they must have taken from his hairbrush. He breathed deeper; the mace made his eyes sting. The smell of the lavender repulsed him. He focused his powers on the connection. Like a bundle of dry twigs it snapped under pressure and a pain shot across his scalp like a clump of hair had been ripped from his head. He swore and launched himself away from Rosa and the burning bundle. "Light!" he brought his hand up to his scalp and realised it was bleeding and a large quantity of his hair came away in his hand. "That's done it," he said, wiping his eyes on the back of his sleeve. "Put that thing out will you Rosa, I hate the smell of Lavender, even as it burns."
Rosa turned triumphantly to her brother. Bobbin must have come into the room whilst Clarence was in the middle of the procedure. He didn't seem impressed. "Well done," he said without a hint of sincerity, and left the room.
"What's up with him?" Clarence asked as he massaged his scalp.
"Nothing new," Rosa shrugged. Clarence remembered how Bobbin's family hid Rosa away as a child, fearing the taxes that they would owe if the truth came out that she was a Witch. Witch taxes on a Human wage would see Bobbins family ruined so they kept her quiet, with help from Clarence's mother. Once they left Leprechaun employment Rosa never had a chance to actually learn how to use her power or turn it to a trade. Clarence stayed quiet, it was an old wound he had no intention of reopening.
When Clarence and Rosa rejoined the group in the taproom, they were playing cards with the woman and her companions. He had to bite down on his anger that his friends were being so careless with their company. Beatrix was getting on well with the redhead who owned the cards. Opposite him the Grey Six Necromancer was chatting to Bobbin with relative ease whilst the big fellow with the tanned skin and long hair scanned the bar with relaxed eyes. They all looked up when Clarence approached, but Clarence directed his silent question towards Beatrix. She definitely met his eyes.
"This is Sausage."
Clarence introduced himself as Ren Green without missing a beet.
"Lance, and Tom." She pointed first at the Necromancer and then at the big chap. Rosa slid down on a stool next to the Necromancer and gave him a large smile. There was excitement in her eyes, Clarence noticed.
"The Lance is dead." Clarence slid onto a stool next to Beatrix.
The Necromancer's grin pulled tight across overlarge teeth, "The name makes it easier to get work, that's all. I'm Engelbert."
Beatrix didn't turn to Clarence to ask him to explain, which only proved how angry she was with him.
"I remember that name," Rosa mused. "He was the guy who developed Inquisition Necromancy?"
"I use his name and I get work, such is the power of legends." Lance smiled over his pint and tipped it into his mouth.
"You're a grey six- a soldier, not an inquisitor," Clarence wasn't in the mood to take somebody else's bullshit but Lance smiled wider.
"I'm a mercenary, most who hire me don't have a clue about what I can do, and a memorable name is useful."
"That's so clever," Rosa told him, her eyes glittering.
Both Clarence and Bobbin exchanged a look. The sooner they left the better.
"We need to go to bed, we have a long day's travel tomorrow-" Clarence started but Beatrix cut across.
"You're mercenaries?"
"Of course," the woman, Sausage, responded. Two frightful looking dogs lounged at her feet, one looked like a wolf, the other some large fighting breed with bitten ears and deep scars.
"So what do you do?" Bobbin asked her, "I assume Sausage is not your name?"
"It's the only name I need." Her brown eyes regarded him. It was the same knowing look Beatrix gave Clarence sometimes, the one that unnerved him as it appeared to cut through all disguises. "I'm a tracker. Tom's our muscle."
Tom raised an eyebrow and went to get more alcohol.
"And what kind of jobs do you do?" Bobbin asked.
"All sorts," Sausage shrugged. "Protection or revenge, who cares as long as we're paid."
"For the Leprechauns?" Bobbin pressed.
"Sometimes, why?"
Beatrix snorted a laugh and shuffled the cards. Sausage watched her with amusement as she laid out a game Clarence hadn't seen before. He wondered how much she had actually drunk in the time he had been upstairs with Rosa, at least four pints. She was being sloppy.
"Texas Hold'em?"
Her eyes flicked up to Sausage with fear. "It's a game from Arbor, my home world," she didn't miss a beat.
"I'm sure." Sausage smiled, but Clarence had his suspicions that the woman knew exactly where Beatrix came from and his hand slid under the table to rest on his dagger. "I've seen it played at the Fringe," she said, allowing Beatrix to save face.
The larger man came back with a jug of ail to share and he saw the cards and after an imperceivable pause, he sat and poured for them. "So," he said, "Where are you heading?"
"Taunton," Bobbin told him, and for once Clarence was glad of his guarded nature.
Tom smiled at him and lifted his drink to his lips. "We were thinking of heading to Glastonbury in the morning. The Leprechauns are recruiting mercenaries to watch the roads for a group of people."
"Are they?" Bobbin asked, as if it were news to him.
"Maybe you'd like to come with us? You look like you could use the work."
Clarence shook his head, "Wrong direction."
"That's a shame. I wonder what this group did for the Steward to want them so badly he would put out a bounty?"
"Humanists maybe," Beatrix shrugged. "Perhaps they mean to do him harm."
Clarence frowned at her. He couldn't fathom why she would say that other than to make him angry. Even Bobbin's eyes lingered on her.
"They say the Steward is made from blood iron and enchantments. Nothing can touch him, he's blessed by the old gods that one," Tom laughed. "Jumped up piece of shit."
Lance's mouth twitched in amusement but Clarence was still watching Sausage, who was playing the game of Hold'em expertly and had just produced a royal flush.
"You've met him, haven't you?" Lance asked Tom.
"Not in person. My friend Banjo's done some work for him. Said under all that royal clothing he has a body like a sprung coil, covered in tattoos, and he keeps his nails sharp to gouge out the eyes of his enemies."
"He sounds like a monster," Beatrix said.
"Why's Banjo seen him naked?" Sausage asked, her eyebrow raising into her fringe.
"I didn't ask and I don't want to know."
Clarence said nothing. He didn't wish to add or confirm anything, his only concern was getting Beatrix far away from these people. They would have to ride through the night to put some distance behind them- but at least the ride might sober Beatrix up.
"I suspect the Steward is desperate for the Prince to get home safe. The papers said he was on his way," Lance sat back and looked over at Clarence. "What do you think about it?"
"I try not to." Clarence felt ice water run through his veins. The talk was too close for comfort. It was too dangerous. He looked at Beatrix again but didn't find an ally there. She was studying her cards with intent. Just as Rosa was intent to study Lance and the big guy, Tom, was watching Clarence with amusement.
"If Freddie Blackember or his mother make a play for the crown, there will be a civil war. Robert O'Leary and his family are presumed dead so that line is wiped out as contenders. Stewards got a fight on his hands if the High Prince doesn't hurry home," Lance continued.
"I'm sure he will sort something out," Clarence shrugged and his eyes moved across to Tom. "Have we met before?"
Tom's smile grew. He tilted his chin and tipped his drink into his mouth.
It clicked. Clarence knew who he was, and he suspected that Tom knew exactly who he was too, when their eyes connected his suspicions confirmed. He made to draw his dagger but Tom was far too fast for him and his hand was over Clarences in a flash, pushing it back into his scabbard. "Don't make a fuss, your Highness."
Beatrix froze, Bobbin even looked frightened, and Rosa's hand went to her mouth. The reaction of his friends annoyed him more than the fact that they had been captured. What, by the Light, did they expect?
"We will go and have a brief chat, Ren." Tom stood up and Clarence did as he was told and followed him away from the table. Sausage shuffled her cards as if nothing had happened and Lance turned to Rosa and asked something about her Witch powers.
Tom's room was far nicer than Clarence's. He motioned for Clarence to sit on one bed and took the other. "You can work out what is happening here?"
"You're here to take me back?"
Tom nodded.
Clarence huffed and bit his lip. "Tom of fucking Northdale. Tupuddle sent you?"
"Well, Grendal is paying the bounty. But yes, the High Priest is keen for you to return too and suggested that I be the one to persuade you."
Clarence crossed his arms, "How did you find me?"
"Corpses and birds. We arrived at this tavern a few moments after you did."
Clarence stayed silent. As far as he knew Necromancers couldn't reanimate dead animals, so he assumed that was something to do with the redhead girl Sausage.
"To be honest, we tracked Arthur Innisman, we picked up what you were doing from the conversations he had in his camp. Call us his backup if you wish."
"You can't force me to go back," Clarence told him with as much conviction as he could muster.
"What did you intend to do instead?" Tom looked amused, as if he were talking to a child.
"Get Fred back from Arthur Innisman and Jump somewhere very far away where nobody will ever find us." He leaned forward. "Fuck the Council and fuck my family."
Tom raised an eyebrow, the amusement on his face still evident.
"The man downstairs who calls himself Lance is the Black Band Necromancer. I am Tom of Northdale, and Sausage is the best tracker I have ever known. If we decide you will go back to the Fortress, that is where you will go."
"So 'decide' to let me go," Clarence told him. Unless Tom had blood iron chains on him, Clarence would grab Beatrix and Jump. There was no way Clarence would be able to face him in a fight, not if the legends were true.
"How did you plan to get this man Fred back?"
"Why would I tell you that?"
Tom hissed a laugh.
"I could Jump, right now, and there would be nothing you could do to---"
"I can stop you Jumping, Clarence, rather Lance can. Block your powers entirely if he wishes to."
Clarence winced. He'd never heard of a Necromancer being able to do that.
"I'd rather not have to ask it."
"Let's come to an arrangement then." Clarence looked up at him. "I know where Sausage comes from. How much do you think the Council-"
"Leave Sausage and her heritage out of this." The humour went from Tom's face like lightning, leaving only the trained killer behind. Cold calm threat radiated off of him.
Clarence sat back and crossed his arms, masking the fear he felt facing a legendary warrior like Tom. "You know how important it is to keep Earth a secret."
"You would sell Sausage out if I took you back?"
"In a heartbeat."
"You'd condemn Beatrix too?"
"She's from Arbor," Clarence growled.
"What do you want, Clarence?"
"I want you to help us get Fred back from Arthur Innisman. Then I want you to let us go- what do you want Tom?"
Tom studied him, weighing up if his orders were worth the life of the woman Clarence had taken to be his lover. He dearly hoped he had guessed right.
"If I get Fred back from the Innismen and make sure that he and Beatrix get somewhere safe will you return with me and keep Sausages secret?"
Tom had guessed enough correctly about him too, Clarence opened his mouth and closed it. "Fine," he said.
All Clarence thought about as the group road from Street to Bruton was how to get away from Tom and his people. He cursed Beatrix for getting drunk and hooking up with them to spite him. He cursed Rosa for the shameless flirting that had occurred even after Clarence had been found out to be the High Prince- and continued even now as they rode. Even Bobbin had been useless. Now the Pirate tagged along without his men to back him, and Clarence wondered why he bothered when he could have walked away in Glastonbury and been done with it. He'd fulfilled his oath, he'd got Clarence to Fred. Whatever bond of blood had been binding them was broken now.
All Clarence contemplated was his escape. He didn't for a second believe that they would rescue Fred for him. This ride to Bruton, where they planned to ambush the Innismen was nothing but a distraction. After the distraction would come excuses and after the excuses would come Lance and his ability to prevent Clarence Jumping.
When they reached the town Sausage's dogs ran along the roads with their noses down and after a while she declared that the party hadn't been through. They camped outside of the town, setting up makeshift tents and a fire. Tom and Lance went to watch the roads, Sausage's dogs with them. If they were going to run, now would be the time to do it.
Clarence watched the camp with narrowed eyes, trying to work out how best to get away- trying to work out if there was a way to get Fred back before he Jumped.
"Tell me what it was like when you left?" Sausage asked Beatrix in their native tongue. Clarence had trouble understanding it. Beatrix had taught him some of her language but they never really had a chance to practice it to fluency. "I've been gone over ten years, I couldn't find a way back."
"War, famine, plague." Beatrix's eyes were hard and dark. "And Nukes."
Sausage hung her head, "I had a family there. Brothers and sisters."
"Some might still be alive, but England was bombed. They won't have long left- they didn't have before."
"Can you picture what the Council or it's enemies would do if they could get there? What they might learn and bastardise. I just wanted to see my family Beatrix but I'm glad in some ways I wasn't ever able to find a way back."
"Well, I'm glad Leprechauns can't Jump to places they don't know." Beatrix said back, her eyes traveling to Clarence. "He got down through a portal painting."
"Is it still-"
She shrugged. "If you go back now- you'd die from the radiation."
Clarence wasn't sure how much Beatrix thought he could understand. He really struggled to follow what they were saying. He had to guess at a lot from his fluency in latin but it was hard to peace it all together. From the way she spoke about him, she didn't think much about his understanding.
On the other side of the fire Bobbin sat with Rosa. Bobbin had been acting cold with Rosa, he was upset with her about her behaviour towards Lance. When they had stopped to rest the horses earlier, he'd caught her leaning over a fence so her breasts looked bigger, asking the Necromancer if he preferred being called Engelbert, Lance or Burty. The whole way to Bruton she'd ridden by Lance's side laughing and chatting with him.
Bobbin had spent the ride muttering his displeasure to Clarence.
Now that Sausage and Beatrix had started conversing in another language the siblings fell silent and were watching them with bemused expressions. When he Jumped they would be left behind. He should never have gone to them in the first place.
Beatrix and Sausage's conversation wound up and Beatrix said she was going to bed. Clarence followed her with a peace offering of brandy from his hip flask. "Warm yourself up," he said. "Can we speak in Latin for a while?"
"Does Bobbin know it?" she muttered, taking his question to mean that he didn't want Sausage hearing.
"He wasn't very good at it when we were children-"
"Fine." She looked at him, expectantly but not kindly. Still angry with him for protecting them from harm. Her anger was starting to feel less and less justified.
"Tom and Lance say that they are getting Fred. I've traded myself for him but I don't intend to be here when they get back."
Beatrix's lips drew thin.
"Tom will release Fred when he has him, he knows if he doesn't I'll sell out Sausage to the Council."
Beatrix's face turned to outrage.
"He won't let any harm come to Sausage, Beatrix. I'm not a gambling man if I can help it."
"So?" She snapped.
"So we are going to Jump to the south of Stonedruid City. Fred knows where we will go so we'll wait for him there."
"And if they don't get him, or if they don't release him once they have him?" Beatrix crossed her arms, the doubt and disbelief was evident.
"Then you will stay safe and I'll travel alone to get him back."
Her lip curled. "You'll trade yourself for him, you mean."
"From Tom, yes, I think he would make a trade like that. I need to get you away from these people Beatrix."
She angled her chin, her eyes still so hard and cold towards him. "Do whatever you think you have to do," she grumbled.
"Pack, but make it look natural."
Clarence left the tent, moved away into the shadows and started to search for a connection. He had to do it whilst hiding his magical signals. It wasn't an easy thing to do- to hide magic so powerful it would allow him to cross to another place entirely. He didn't notice Bobbin creep closer, or Rosa talk with more animation to keep Sausage busy by the fire. Dimly he was aware of Beatrix standing next to him urging him to hurry up, the bark of dogs returning, the shout of Tom as he cursed Sausage for being so distracted. The portal connected, he grabbed Beatrix's hand and jumped in, but a shadow launched itself for him, tackled them both around the waist and he felt the connection with Stonedruid city break, the strain on his magic was so great his heart fluttered. He was gasping for breath underwater; it sapped his mind and body of all it's strength. He was falling through nothing, screaming, searching for some place to come out- and then nothing.