by Tara Grayce
Not fire. Magic. So much magic. Perhaps today Farrendel would find out just how much of it he could unleash when he did not care about the consequences.
Farrendel paused in the chamber at the end of the dungeon corridor, the one Melantha had described with the pool of water in the corner.
Which way? Farrendel closed his eyes and stretched his senses. He felt the brush of fresh air from two of the tunnels. The air from one carried the scent of the mountains. The other held a whiff of the Escarlish gunpowder. Shouts and the clash of weapons came from that passage as well, along with the icy tang of troll magic.
Time to tear this fortress apart.
Footsteps hurried down the corridor after him, including Essie’s soft patter. He glanced over his shoulder.
Essie’s eyes were wide, her brow furrowed. Worried. About him.
A part of him wanted to turn around. Soften. Go to her.
But not yet. Not until he made sure the trolls would never hurt him or his family ever again.
Farrendel gripped his magic harder and strode down the tunnel toward the clash of steel and blasts of power.
Somewhere ahead, boots pounded on stone, headed toward him. Probably a squad of trolls, sent by King Charvod to fetch Farrendel.
Farrendel did not slow his pace. Why waste time with caution?
Eight trolls raced around the bend ahead of him. They skidded to a halt, several of them gathering their magic and hurling it toward Farrendel. Ice crackled along the tunnel walls while the stones of the floor reached for Farrendel’s feet.
Farrendel let his magic flood the corridor, melting the ice into clouds of steam and blasting the floor’s fingers into pebbles. Then he shoved a blast of power at the trolls and hurled them backwards.
When he stalked past the bodies strewn on the floor, he did not pause to check if the trolls were dead. He did not have to.
The tunnel swerved through several turns, the floor sloping upward. A few chambers opened up with intersecting passageways, but Farrendel followed the echoes of war, growing louder with each step.
A stone door barred his way. Beyond it, the boom of the Escarlish weapons vibrated through the stones beneath his feet while the clash of steel and shouts of fighting rang into the air.
A flick of Farrendel’s wrist sent bolts of magic at the door. The explosion shook the passageway. Pebbles pattered against the floor while dust clouded the air.
For the first time in two weeks, Farrendel stepped from the darkness of the dungeon into sunlight. He squeezed his eyes shut. Daylight. It warmed his face, even as a cold breeze blasted his face and clawed through the shortened strands of his hair. When he gulped in a lungful of the smoke and gunpowder filled air, it felt like the first time he had truly breathed in far too long.
The sunlight, the cold air, the snow-covered stone beneath his bare feet...it was almost enough to cool the fire of his magic searing his veins. Sunlight felt like home. The breeze tasted of freedom. And he could savor neither of them. With his magic crackling in every part of the raw emptiness inside him, he could focus on nothing but destruction.
He squinted against the morning sunlight, thankful for the early dawn. Full daylight would have been far too dazzling.
Ahead of him, lines of trolls fought against elves in flashing armor. Magic burst around them, ice and green shields, rocks hurling through the air and roots lashing from the ground. Behind the elves, squads of Escarlish soldiers filled gaps in the elven line or stood back and aimed their rifles at the trolls on the wall tops.
Heads turned toward him. Trolls at the back turned and dashed in Farrendel’s direction.
A blast of his magic sent the trolls stumbling back. Farrendel poured more magic into the ranks of the trolls, killing a number of them, hurling most of them from their feet. Even the elves stumbled back from the sizzling sweep of Farrendel’s magic.
A blast of icy magic slammed into Farrendel from the side. He stumbled a step before he steadied and pushed back with his magic, obliterating the troll magic.
Prince Rharreth stood by a door that led into what looked like the main section of the mountain castle. He raised his hands, as if to send another wave of magic at Farrendel.
Not this time. Not again. Farrendel hurled magic at the troll prince, wrapping bolts of power around the troll’s arms and body, piercing his wrists much as Farrendel had been pinned. Farrendel shoved the troll prince and held him there, helpless, even as the troll prince struggled against the magic.
Where was King Charvod? Weylind and Averett?
If King Charvod had already killed Farrendel’s brother, then this fortress would be razed to the ground.
There. At the far side of the courtyard, King Charvod lunged at Weylind, backed by five other trolls. Next to Weylind, Averett held an elven shield and fended off a troll swinging a mace. The trolls pushed back both the elven and Escarlish royal guards, isolating Weylind and Averett.
King Charvod swung a large, two-handed sword, iced over with magic. Weylind gave a step, but a rock heaved from the ground, tripping him. He raised a hand, a root shooting up to block the sword’s swing.
But the root was too small, too weak here in the rocky, icy ground of Kostaria. King Charvod’s sword sliced through the root and continued its arc, aimed at Weylind’s head.
Farrendel gathered a fistful of power and thrust it forward. A bolt of magic cracked across the courtyard, slicing through King Charvod and punching out a section of the stone wall behind him. King Charvod’s limp body fell to the ground even as the wall crumbled with a roar, falling into the gorge below.
Far too much satisfaction burned alongside the magic in Farrendel’s chest. King Charvod was dead. He would never pin another elf to the ground and fill them so full of stone they could not move or breathe with the pain of it. Never again.
Magic built around Farrendel as he strode forward. He let it pour from him in waves, crackling on the ground and bursting in the gathering clouds above. He swept away the rest of the trolls around Weylind and Averett, along with more of the wall.
More, ever more magic. It hurt in his chest, his bones, yet still it came. And he let it, sinking into the magic more than he ever had before.
He stalked closer to Prince Rharreth, blasting aside any troll that attempted to stop him. He halted a few feet from the troll prince, his fingers dripping magic. “You will never hurt me or any of my family ever again.”
Sweat beaded on Prince Rharreth’s forehead as he strained against Farrendel’s magic. The troll prince had gathered his magic enough to push Farrendel’s magic a foot away from his body, but no farther. He met Farrendel’s gaze and held it. “Is that it, then? You’re going to kill me?”
Farrendel flexed his fingers, bolts of power twining up his arms. It was temping to take his magic and drive it through Prince Rharreth’s chest.
But the troll prince was pinned, helpless. And he had treated Farrendel with far more honor than his brother had.
Instead, Farrendel poured more magic into the troll prince’s restraints, his magic sizzling the ice into nothing. “Surrender. We are no longer in Tarenhiel or Escarland. I do not care if I tear the very bedrock of your kingdom.”
“No.” The veins along Prince Rharreth’s neck bulged, and a wave of power surged around him. Back at the Escarlish border, the troll prince’s magic had been formidable. Then, Farrendel had cared if he burnt himself up with power or if he destroyed all of Escarland by unleashing more power than he could control.
But not here. Here Farrendel just bared his teeth and let the last of his iron control drop. Magic roiled into the air. The ground shook, cracks spiderwebbing jagged lines across the courtyard.
Behind him, Farrendel could sense Essie and her brothers as they stumbled out of the door of the passageway, safely clear of the dungeon tunnels.
Farrendel poured his magic into the ground. It groaned as his magic tore through stone and the magic the trolls had embedded into their fortress. He coated each and every dunge
on tunnel, wrapping his magic through the stones that had once held him captive.
A few troll soldiers remained inside the fortress, but no elves or humans. And no noncombatants that Farrendel could sense.
Clenching his fists, Farrendel let his magic tear out the foundations of Gror Grar. A whirlwind of lightning-blue magic whipped around him before he blasted it at the remains of the fortress.
With a mighty groan and the rumble of stone, Gror Grar collapsed, its walls and towers falling into the gorge around the mountain it had been built on. Portions of the mountain crumbled, the stones lit blue and shattered with Farrendel’s magic.
Dust filled the air, even as Farrendel’s magic crackled through each mote of dust, swirling into storm clouds rumbling with magic in the sky above.
Pinned to the one remaining wall of Gror Grar, Prince Rharreth had stilled, his eyes wide.
Farrendel growled and stabbed a bolt of power through Prince Rharreth’s shoulder. “Surrender.”
Prince Rharreth flinched and cried out. He gritted his teeth and glared at Farrendel. Magic pulsed around his fingers, but Farrendel’s magic crawled over him, sizzling against the troll magic and snuffing it out.
Farrendel grasped for his magic, but it burned through his fingers. A storm built above, flickers of magic dazzling across black clouds. Power poured through him, consuming him even as it threatened to tear him apart.
“Last chance. Surrender. Or I will raze your entire kingdom to the ground.” Farrendel channeled as much magic as he could control through his body. Blue lightning coated his skin, coalescing into a massive, glowing sword. With a growl, he drove it into the stone courtyard.
The stone cracked, a jagged crevasse opening as it zigged and zagged across the courtyard of the once mighty fortress of Gror Grar.
The ground shook, laced with glowing blue magic spreading outward from Farrendel. With a rumble, the mountains surrounding Gror Grar shattered, rubble tumbling to earth with ear-splitting cracks.
Still pinned, Prince Rharreth glanced over his shoulder as best he could, his eyes widening. “Please, Laesornysh, pull your magic back. I surrender. Please. I don’t care what you do to me, but don’t destroy Osmana. There are women and children in there.”
Farrendel followed Prince Rharreth’s line of sight. With Gror Grar nothing but rubble, the lights of the city of Osmana were now visible, huddled behind a wall farther in the gorge that Gror Grar had once guarded. The wave of Farrendel’s magic swept through the ground, opening fissures and leveling the mountains, heading in the direction of the troll city.
In moments, Farrendel’s magic would utterly destroy that city, killing every troll male, female, and child huddled inside.
Farrendel tried to yank back on the crashing tide of his magic, but it tore from him, bursting behind his eyes and building into an inferno of magic. He collapsed to his knees under the force of it, feeling the tremors in the ground beneath him.
“Please, Laesornysh!” Prince Rharreth thrashed against the bonds of magic holding him against the stone. “I said, I surrender. Please. Just spare them.”
Farrendel shook, magic blazing beneath his skin and sizzling deep into his bones. He could not breathe for the force of it, the stone inside him tearing deeper as it reacted against his magic. He braced a hand against the stone of the courtyard, his body too weak to withstand much more of this.
“I cannot.” He shuddered, his senses shredding with the force of the magic coursing through him.
He could not draw his magic back. He had lost control, and now he was going to kill as he had never killed before. Not just enemies on a battlefield. But women. Children. His own family and friends huddled behind him.
Essie. His magic was going to kill Essie.
He had been wrong. This—not the weeks of torture—was his worst nightmare.
ESSIE CLUNG to Edmund, bracing herself against the whipping wind so filled with magic it hurt to breathe it, even for her. Her skin prickled as her hair stood on end with the power crackling through the courtyard.
In the courtyard, the fighting had stopped. Escarlish soldiers huddled on the ground, gaping at something to Essie’s left. Elves knelt in front of them, raising their hands as if to shield themselves from something. And the remaining trolls...it was hard to tell the dead from the living. All were pressed flat to the ground, bolts of blue power coursing over them.
Another rumble shuddered through the ground. High above, dark clouds gathered, streaked with blue lightning.
Farrendel stood in the middle of a blaze of power, swirling like a tornado of magic around him. The shortened ends of his hair whipped around his head.
The troll prince was pinned to the wall with cords of shimmering blue magic. His jaw was hard, even as sweat dripped down his gray skin. He said something to Farrendel, though Essie couldn’t hear it over the roar of Farrendel’s magic.
The dark clouds above swirled, lit with blue magic within. Magic flared like a lightning bolt around Farrendel before he drove it into the ground.
Essie staggered as the ground shook, then stumbled as Edmund yanked her back. A foot-wide fissure opened where they had been standing a moment ago.
Magic glowed in the stones of the courtyard. Cries of pain came from the trolls already pinned with Farrendel’s magic. Roars filled the air as the surrounding mountains crumbled into dust.
Farrendel dropped to a knee, as if straining under the weight of all the magic.
“He lost control.” Essie pressed a hand to her chest, feeling the way his searing magic tore through him. At that moment, he was truly Laesornysh, Death on the Wind.
And if someone didn’t stop this, then he would kill them all.
Essie straightened her shoulders. It was up to her. After all, she was immune to Farrendel’s magic. At least, small amounts of it. She wasn’t sure even Farrendel was immune to this much of his magic.
She tugged free of Edmund’s grip and dashed across the courtyard, hopping the fissures as she went.
When she was halfway across, Averett raced up to her and grabbed her arm. “Essie, no. You can’t go to him. It isn’t safe.”
“Of course it isn’t safe. But it’s a lot safer for me than anyone else.” Essie held Averett’s gaze, even as Weylind dashed up behind him. “I’m the only one who can snap him out of this.”
Averett’s grip tightened on her arm, as if he would refuse to let her go. “Essie...”
“He needs me, and if I don’t go to him, none of us are going to make it out of here.” Essie glanced from Averett to Weylind.
Weylind nodded, but his gaze swerved to Farrendel. “Averett Daresheni, she needs to go.”
Face twisting, Averett released her arm. He stepped forward, as if he planned to give Essie a hug, but Essie dodged him. She didn’t have time to waste. Nor was a hug goodbye necessary. Farrendel would never hurt her. Not even now. Of that she was certain.
Essie staggered across the uneven ground toward Farrendel. He was hunched on his knees under the force of all the magic. Blue bolts of power coursed beneath his skin.
Days ago, Essie had felt the immense power of Farrendel’s magic when it flowed through her. He usually only used as little of his magic as possible, fearful of what would happen if he released more than he could handle.
Apparently, he’d had good reason to worry.
The ground heaved, and Essie fell to her knees, scraping her hands on the rough stone. When she glanced over her shoulder, Weylind was hunched, roots springing from the ground to protect all three of Essie’s brothers. At the far end of the courtyard, the elven warriors held green shields over the Escarlish soldiers.
When Essie pushed to her feet and hurried forward again, pebbles crunched under her boots, and Farrendel’s head snapped up, his hand lifting as if to blast her with magic.
“Farrendel, it’s me.” Essie kept her voice even, calm. The crackle of magic against her skin escalated from a prickle to an uncomfortable scouring. Yet the magic didn’t tear her
apart or disintegrate her where she stood.
“Essie.” Farrendel’s eyes were so filled with magic that the silver-blue of his eyes was no longer visible.
“It’s all right, Farrendel.” Essie knelt in front of him. After a moment, she reached out and rested her hands on his cheeks. Her skin prickled with magic, but it didn’t hurt.
“I cannot let them hurt anyone again.” Farrendel’s voice was strained. Sparks of power trickled down his cheek. “I cannot.”
“I know. But not like this.” Essie swiped away one of the magic sparks. It prickled against her finger but didn’t hurt. “You’re safe, and the trolls are defeated. It’s over.”
“I do not...I cannot...” Farrendel was trembling beneath her fingers. Magic lit his veins, glowing in the depths of his eyes.
Could Farrendel stop this? Was it possible he had unleashed so much magic, he could not rein it in?
This was too much for him to control by himself. But, perhaps, they could control it together.
“Then give it to me. Do whatever you did to pour your magic into the heart bond before. I don’t think I can wield your magic by myself, but I can hold a portion of it while you get the rest under control.” Essie tipped his chin so that he was looking at her, hard as it was to hold his magic-lit gaze. All this magic was fueled by his pain and anger after the torture he’d endured. He was stuck in that dungeon still, even though his body was free.
She needed to remind him of love. Happiness. The future they had together.
“It might hurt you.” Farrendel lifted a shaking hand, his fingers dripping bolts of magic. He stopped short of touching her.
She clasped his hand, a jolt of energy traveling through her. “It won’t.” She leaned her forehead against Farrendel’s. “Please. It’s time to come home.”
This time, Farrendel reached out and traced a hand over her cheek. Then, he leaned closer and kissed her.
Magic whirled about them, crackling through her hair and sparking in her chest. Or, perhaps, that was the kiss and not magic. She couldn’t tell.
Magic poured into her, bright and sparking. The magic in the air and filling the courtyard coalesced around them until she couldn’t see anyone past the bright blue crackle. The light grew so intense she had to squeeze her eyes shut. She clung to Farrendel, even as he pulled back from the kiss. His skin was slick with blood or sweat. Perhaps both.
