*****
Mandy
They arrived on dry land. No, correct that. They arrived in an underwater cave, a much larger cave than the one in which Dormolon had kept them prisoner. This place was the size of a football stadium, and it was nearly as tall as it was wide. And it was beautiful. Huge crystals covered all the walls and the ceiling. Candles in the center of the area sent light flickering over translucent white quartz, pink quartz, amethyst in shades from lavender to deep purple, as well as green and yellow citrine. Despite the beauty, what really caught Mandy's attention was the scene of carnage in the middle of the candlelit area.
About a hundred feet away, surrounded by tall altar candles, Manreal held the badly wounded Vandel in his arms. Both wildfae were covered in copious amounts of indigo blue blood. The two were in a pentacle, with a six-foot tall candle at each point. The other captives, wrapped in fishing nets, lay at the points of the pentacle.
With her mage-sense still wide open, Mandy saw how magic flowed out from the wildfae with their blood, and then filled the shallow depression in the cave floor where they lay. From there, it began to slowly drip into what appeared to be a simple, round, hole in the floor at the center of the pentacle, a hole almost ten feet across. But what seemed to be a hole in the floor to ordinary sight was something very different to mage-sense. Mandy felt the blood drain from her face. It was the Well, she realized in awe, the Well of Deeps, portal to another dimension, home of the Guardian, gateway to the Waters of Chaos.
Without Greg, Prince Dormolon didn't have enough power to pay the full price for opening the Well of Deeps, but apparently the mer prince was living down to their worst fears by feeding the captives' and their magic to the Guardian in order to keep it's interest. Icy green Manreal and golden Vandel were the first two sacrifices. No, she realized as she looked at the solid bond of magic between them; they were one sacrifice, two halves of one whole, united in ways she couldn't begin to comprehend. They were dying together, as they had lived, always together. This horror was all Dormolon's doing.
And there he was, standing just inside the pentacle with the athame—the sacrificial knife—still clutched in his slimy, greedy hand.
The depression in the cave floor acted as a chalice for the wildfae's blood. Yes, Abigail had been right! Dormolon was serving up the captured magical beings to the Guardian as an appetizer, a down payment on the favor he wanted. Through the mesh of one of the nets, she saw her great-aunt's face, gray with pain and stress. Four more bundles of net held the two weres, the selkie, and yes, even Sennusi, who appeared to be barely holding onto the spell that allowed her to breathe air.
"LeFay!" Prince Dormolon said, ignoring everyone else, as usual. "I'm so glad to see you back." He must have been startled to see them, but he recovered quickly. "Here I thought I'd have to waste my catch to keep the Guardian quiet. Now, I can proceed with the real sacrifice."
Greg spat out his scuba mouthpiece, "The hell you can," he said.
But Dormolon had a dozen squids with him, and Greg and the rest were hampered by their scuba gear and fins. But that was just small stuff, right? She'd take care of the problem. With a quick effort of will, Mandy moved all the tanks, fins, and non-combat gear to the rear of the cave. She wouldn't trust herself to get it all back on everyone correctly, but they didn't need it now, and taking it off was easy. All the witches staggered a little as they adjusted their balance to the lack of weight on their backs. Mandy shrugged her shoulders. That felt so much better!
Then the first squid struck. Mandy barely had time to blink as the Humboldt's tentacle shot toward her. Only a fast shield put up by one of the combat witches saved her. Greg grabbed her arm and shoved her toward the woman who'd shielded her.
"Protect her!" he ordered.