Page 121 of Sword & Sacrifice

He couldn’t afford a single mistake.

Taking a deep breath, Penn reached into his mental shields, where he’d tucked a memory away, wrapped it up nice and tight like a present. He yanked the wrapping away with one swift rip.

“Son of a—” Niall’s curse was cut off as the memory engulfed Penn.

“Here is what you will need,” Adelaide explained as she pulled ingredients off the shelf. The memory didn’t exactly match the quantities of ingredients Penn had found—she didn’t have to search under the worktable for the yew berries, she simply pulled the bottle from its proper place with little fuss. But her movements were calm and confident, and he already had everything in place.

He was more concerned with the method of how to brew the potion.

“The order is important,” she continued as she arranged everything, then tapped the cork on each bottle as she listed off ingredients. “Mullein first. I’ve already filtered everything for immediate use, but you’ll want to use the pokholz mortar and pestle to crush it up. Once you have a fine powder, add it into a cedar bowl with rainwater. That is where you’ll combine all your ingredients. Next add the hop-marjoram. Stir thoroughly between each ingredient to ensure everything is incorporated. Don’t add too much myrhis—use one teaspoon exactly. Add the crushed yew berries last.”

“What happens if I mess up the order? Will it just not work? Or will it …” Even in his own mind, Penn couldn’t bring himself to contemplate Val’s true and final death. “And how will I know if it works?”

“The combination of ingredients will naturally turn the potion into a muddy brown. Once you charge the potion with magic, you’ll see the difference. However, that still doesn’t guarantee the potion will work. The only way you will know it worked is if Valerian’s heart begins beating again.” She locked eyes with Penn and said, “Remember what you promised. If when he wakes, his eyes are blue—”

Penn nodded, cutting her off. “I remember.”

She pursed her lips as she gazed at him. “It pains me too, you know. Thinking of anyone’s death, let alone someone I …” She hesitated for so long it seemed like she wouldn’t name whatever complicated relationship she had with Valerian. Then she finally said, “Cared about.”

Silence hung heavy between them for a moment, but even in a memory, they didn’t have time to dawdle. “What next?”

“Once everything is mixed up, you’ll need to infuse it with magic. For this potion, the best method is simply to—” she poured all of the contents into a bottle, placed a cork stopper in it, then began shaking it vigorously.

The motion almost made Penn laugh as he watched this calm and poised witch slosh a potion around in a bottle.

Five minutes passed before she seemed satisfied and held the clear bottle up to the light. All the ingredients had mixed together to form a swirling black nebula. “And there we have it—my secret recipe for cheating death. Guard it well, and don’t—” She stopped, her brow furrowing. “I have to go.” Without another word, she disappeared, and the workshop melted from around her.

Thank the gods she’d given Penn everything he needed first.

“—bitch.”

Penn blinked his eyes open. He could still hear Niall cursing and shuffling through the kitchen. The memory had felt like several long minutes, but it’d only taken Penn a second to recall.

He immediately organized the ingredients in the proper order, lips moving as he mentally recited Adelaide’s instructions.

He was only halfway down the list when he heard stomping feet rushing toward him. A heavy body collided with the closed door. The handle rattled, and Niall shouted wordlessly in frustration.

He should have focused his study on more practical things, Penn thought, picturing Val’s magical key that could open any lock.

The point of a blade sliced through the wood right above the lock.

Or he’ll just cut it open, I guess. Penn’s hands trembled as he rushed through the next few steps. Finally, he only had to add the yew berries. Taking a deep breath, he tried to steady his hands, afraid he would spill the bottle’s minimal contents. He carefully plucked the cork from the bottle.

The door crashed open and Niall stormed into the workroom. “Time to kill the dog!” he crowed, brandishing one of Adelaide’s kitchen knives.

Penn clutched the bottle tightly to his chest as he dodged the wildly waving knife. It sliced across the back of his hand, drawing a hot line of blood, and then again over his arm on the backswing.

“You will no longer”—Niall switched his grip, trying to stab Penn instead of slice, and managed to pin the edge of Penn’s shirt to the table—“distract him! He will fulfill his destiny as the—”

Penn slammed his head forward into Niall’s nose, cutting off his posturing with a satisfying crunch. I connected, Penn realized, eyes widening in shock.

Niall grabbed his broken nose with one hand, blood pouring between his fingers, and wildly swung the blade with his other. It nicked Penn’s cheek and he barely ducked in time before it could damage his eye.

Penn dropped to the floor, grabbed a random cork, and closed the yew berry bottle. Then he tried to sweep Niall’s legs out from under him, only for his shin to connect with an invisible barrier. His bones jolted like he’d kicked steel, and he gritted his teeth against the pain.

The barrier is still in place, so how could I hit his face? Unless the potion he’d inadvertently created with haphazardly thrown ingredients had burned a hole through it, rather than destroying the barrier altogether?

Niall stabbed down.