The cries of pursuit were quicker than she would have liked. She could feel Bastien reaching out with his magic, trying to locate her as she dodged through the fallen walls and crumbling arches. The layout of the Temple back at home was familiar, a circular complex with the great domed central building surrounded by towers and gardens.
‘This way,’ something whispered to her. And though she knew that listening to the voices in her head was a really bad idea, she followed the instructions. What choice did she have? This had to be done, and fast. Before Bastien could stop her.
‘Left,’ it came again, a laugh behind it, as if they were playing some nightmarish game. ‘And right.’ She dodged down the passageway as instructed and then she saw it, a hole in the ground that had once been a sunken garden. And in the centre an archway leading underground.
She plunged into the darkness beneath Thorndale.
Chapter 27
‘Grace!’ Bastien’s own voice echoed back at him, taunting him. The passageway was narrower than he remembered, the stone smoother, and everything was darker. But he pushed on, certain Grace had to have come this way. What was she thinking? Was she thinking at all?
Or had the Deep Dark claimed her again? Her magic was more powerful than it had the right to be, even had it not been stolen and broken repeatedly over the years of her short life. The Deep Dark had done something to the warrant, connected to it somehow and tied it to Grace. It fed her magic, he was sure of it now, and fed on her fear. Both were getting stronger all the time. He hardly dared summon more than a glimmer of flame himself in case she turned it against him.
He was losing her. No matter what he did, no matter how he tried to preserve what they had, she was slipping through his fingers and, curse him, he wasn’t strong enough to save her. He’d been so torn, so desperately concerned with who could take her place, who he should sacrifice and how he could make such a decision… but he should have known she would never allow that. Not Grace.
Pushing through the last stretch of tunnel, he almost fell out into the cavern. The pool spread out before him, larger than his visions and his twisted memories. It didn’t glow as the Maegen glowed, it didn’t boil with magic and life. It was just a pool, the surface black and unbroken, a perfect sheen reflecting smooth black rock overhead, and the single point of light in the cavern.
Grace was standing there, aglow with fire. It rippled over her skin, played among the strands of her hair. The pool reflected her as she stood at the edge, right beside the broken throne, and light illuminated the roof of the chamber. But the light was hers, not the Maegen’s, and thankfully her eyes were still her own. Her own, but she was not quite herself. She was struggling to hold on.
‘Grace?’
She looked up from the water, and tilted her head to one side.
‘Where is it?’ she asked.
‘What?’
‘The Maegen. It should be here, shouldn’t it? Bastien—’ A sob of dismay shook her and she clenched her hands into fists. ‘I can’t hold the Deep Dark in much longer. Where’s the Maegen?’
He didn’t know the answer to that. He’d expected it to be here as well. Not this cold, empty place. But there was the broken obsidian throne on which the Hollow King had sat. There was the water that had reflected his face. The pool that had drunk down his blood all those years ago when he was a boy.
But it wasn’t glowing now. It was dead and empty. All it could do was reflect the power in her.
‘I don’t know.’
‘You don’t understand. I have to put an end to this. I need to give the warrant to the Maegen. The Deep Dark is going to come out again and I can’t—’
The statue stood at the edge of the pool, opposite the remains of the throne. Bastien hadn’t seen it at first, but suddenly it seemed to command his attention. Stone carved so cunningly in the likeness of a man that he thought at first it had to be a real person. It wore a crown, an ancient style, with long slender points, the largest at the front as sharp as a blade. He knew that crown. Grace caught the direction of his attention and turned to stare at it as well.
‘It looks like you. Like you when I first met you.’
‘It does?’ That was news to him. It was cold and terrifying, the stern face and the frown, the clenched jawline.
‘I was so afraid of you. I thought you were a monster…’
Her voice softened suddenly and before he knew what she was doing she started to walk towards the statue.
‘Grace, stop.’ She didn’t listen. With one hand, she reached up and pressed the palm against its cold cheek. The ripple of magic travelled through the air and Bastien gave a choked cry.
Suddenly it was as if two images swam together, a double vision of her standing there, looking up at him and from a distance. He could see her from the eyes of the statue as well as his own. His body froze, trapped in stone like the statue, and, at the same time, the statue opened its eyelids, golden light spilling from its depths.
‘Beloved,’ it whispered. It wasn’t Bastien’s voice. It didn’t even sound like him. And yet somehow it was.
The statue turned its head to look at him, stone grating against stone, and Bastien saw himself through its eyes. Weak and pathetic, trapped, a mere mortal who had dared to steal the power of the Hollow King… But it had agreed. He knew it had agreed. Perhaps it thought…
It had thought it was the one in control. Or that it would regain its power with Bastien’s death. It had reckoned without Lucien and his sons.
‘Where are they?’ it asked. Grace gazed up at it in wonder. ‘The Larelwynns… She is not one of them. Where are they?’
‘They’re… they’re gone.’ Bastien blurted out the words, terrified Grace would answer instead. Whatever it had done to her, she seemed enchanted, so deeply under its spell now that he wasn’t sure if he would be able to break her free. But he had to try. ‘They’re all dead. All of them. Gone.’
The statue of the Hollow King smiled and shook its head like it pitied him. ‘I remember you, Bastien. You were so eager to die for Lucien Larelwynn. You should have tried living instead. You would have had more thanks. He cheated us both, you know.’
That, at least, was true. Lucien Larelwynn had trapped the Hollow King in Bastien’s form, and it should have been for a single human lifetime only. But the Larelwynns devised a way of stripping Bastien of his memories time and again, of keeping him trapped, of using him to control the mageborn, making them do their will, and keep the threat of the nightborn at bay.
‘He did what he thought was best…’
The Hollow King chuckled, and brought his hands up to pull Grace into his embrace. ‘You always were a fool. Especially for those you loved.’
‘Let her go.’
‘I’m not holding her here. The Deep Dark has burrowed through her body and her soul. It’s part of her now. They live such fragile, mayfly lives, humans. Gone in the turn of a breath to you and I. She can stay with us forever. It’s kinder. She’ll stop fighting it then.’
So she was still fighting. That was something he could use. Bastien edged closer, circling around them so he could see her face.
‘Grace, don’t give in to the Deep Dark. You’d be with him, not me. You said he reminded you of the way I was when we first met. The monster behind the throne, remember?’
The smallest frown formed on Grace’s brow. The Hollow King lifted his hand and smoothed it away with gentle fingertips.
‘What has he brought you but pain, little one? What has he done but made you suffer? What joy has there been since you met him?’
‘Joy?’ she whispered, so softly it was a sigh.
But there was joy. True, it was fleeting, and time and again he did something that destroyed it, but there was joy. There was love. There were the moments they stood together, laughed together. The moments when they made love and lost themselves in each other. He had never known joy like that, not in all his long life. It had to be the same for her. It had to be.
‘Gra
ce, please…’ he whispered. His legs felt frozen, ice cold. His arms reached for her, but he couldn’t move. It felt like the stone was climbing from the floor, covering him, sucking the life out of him and transforming him to a statue now.
The Hollow King glowed with vitality and fire, just as Grace did. She was feeding him somehow, pouring magic from her body into his stone form.
‘On your knees, I think,’ he said in that empty, heartless voice and Bastien felt his legs buckle. He fell forward, his hands landing in the water at the edge of the pool, his body unable to resist. ‘I’m so glad you came back, boy. I’ve waited so long. And now I’ll take my rightful place out in the world again. The nightborn can be brought to heel and the mageborn too. I should never have listened to Larelwynn. My sister the Little Goddess had the right of it. Humanity was made to serve us. I was a tired fool.’
He ran his fingers through the glowing strands of Grace’s hair.
‘Don’t hurt her,’ Bastien whispered.
‘No, she is a treasure beyond price. She embodies the Deep Dark, or she soon will. Such power encased in such beauty. I’ll not hurt her. Not like you. But you can serve a purpose. You can die again, be the sacrifice you were always so willing to be.’
Even as Bastien watched, the Hollow King formed a sword out of fire and air and handed it to Grace. She turned, eyes blazing with magic, and walked towards him.
‘Grace,’ he whispered. He didn’t want to die, not like this, not unleashing that thing into the world, to wear his face and take his place. ‘Grace, please.’
‘She can’t hear you any more, Bastien. She hears me. Only me. I’ve whispered words of love in her ears. I’ve shown her what it will be like, to be loved by a god. I’ve never hurt her, not like you.’ The king leaned forward, his grin skeletal, all his teeth bared, vicious and eager. ‘Kill him for me, my beloved. Spill his blood in the pool and call forth the power of the Maegen once more. Larelwynn blood, the purest form of it, the blood that was spilled to make it great. Bring back my full supremacy and set me free.’
The blade rested, cold and hard against the skin of Bastien’s neck, hitting against the torc binding him. His blood would break the spell then, restore the Maegen and set the Hollow King free. But what of the warrant still resting around Grace’s neck? What of the broken crown? Didn’t the king know about that? He’d been there when it was made. He’d been…
But no. He didn’t know. The Hollow King had been drowned in power in those moments, when Bastien had made the warrant and the torc from the broken crown, the real crown, not the one carved from stone the statue now wore. He’d given the warrant to Lucien and placed the torc around his own neck. The crown had become the very means by which to control the Hollow King.
Bastien sucked in a breath, trying to think, trying to come up with a way out as Grace’s sword drew back, ready to swing down and end his life. He flinched.
‘Bastien,’ she murmured, her voice something between bemused and disappointed. ‘Don’t you trust me?’
She flung the sword at the statue with all her might.
Bastien jerked back against her in shock and she grabbed him, trying to pull him to safety. The Hollow King snatched the sword from the air moments before it would have impaled him. He held it like a stick a child had played with, and then tossed it aside. It fell with a clatter against the rocks and dissolved into wisps of smoke.
‘Shit.’ Grace cradled Bastien against her. ‘That wasn’t meant to happen.’
The Hollow King advanced on them, stepping into the water of the pool without sinking. He walked across the surface, never making so much as a ripple. And then, standing before them, he reached for them both.
Something hard and unyielding crashed into Bastien’s side. They sprawled on the stone floor, Bastien and Grace entangled, Ellyn lying on top of them both.
‘No!’ Grace cried out but the Hollow King was quicker.
‘Another Larelwynn,’ he growled and grabbed her in that implacable grip. Ellyn struggled, unable to break free, and for the first time Bastien had known her, she truly looked afraid.
‘Let her go,’ Rynn shouted and a rock hit the Hollow King’s shoulder. He flinched back, confused rather than hurt, like a giant tormented by a flea. It did no harm to him, stone on stone. She picked up another rock and let loose again. They must have found the way down here themselves.
‘Rynn, that’s not going to help,’ Ellyn yelled. ‘Get the others. Get the—’
The Hollow King hurled her down on the stone floor and her body convulsed and then went still. He held out one hand and light coalesced there, shining brighter as it resolved itself into a curved knife, like something from an ancient treasure trove. It was shaped like a claw, and as sharp as one too.
Bastien knew that blade. He remembered it, could still feel the ghost of its touch on his throat.
‘Come then, Larelwynn, and die in his stead.’ The Hollow King picked Ellyn up by one arm. She hung limply from his fist, her feet trailing in the water, but that didn’t matter to him. He brought the knife up, ready to spill her blood in the Maegen and free himself at last.
Bastien did the only thing he could think of. He threw himself in between them. The knife slammed into his stomach and arched up under his ribs. He felt it there, stuck, as the Hollow King tried to pull it free again. He jerked with it, as wave upon wave of pain swept through him. White-hot and agonising, it burst in the back of his mind, stealing his breath.
With a sound of disgust the stone king hurled Ellyn aside and grabbed Bastien instead.
‘This is what you want? To die yet again? I gave you this unending life. I can take it from you just as easily.’
Somehow, with unnatural strength, he wrenched the knife free and suddenly Bastien was choking on his own blood. There was a scream in his ears, in his head, and all around him. Grace, it was Grace. She cried out as she attacked. She’d got Ellyn’s twin swords, he supposed. It didn’t really matter. She was far too late.
He tried to tell her but he couldn’t draw breath and the blood spilled from his mouth instead of words. It dripped down into the water and as he gazed down, as his vision grew dark, it began to glow.
Bastien didn’t even feel the Hollow King letting him go. The water swallowed him down and the last thing he saw was blood, spreading out through the pool like the roots of a flower.
Chapter 28
Grace attacked blindly, rage taking her forward. The knife the Hollow King had conjured stretched as she reached it, becoming a sword to match her own. Behind her Rynn dragged Ellyn clear, back through the tunnel, but she couldn’t go with them. She couldn’t leave Bastien.
Any second now, he’d get up. Any second now. He’d move, rise up out of the water. Come to her. Help her. She knew it.
Swords clashed and she sent a wave of fire at the Hollow King. He smiled through it and she watched the stone he was made of grow hotter and hotter, glowing with heat now.
‘I don’t melt, little one. I don’t burn. All you do is make me stronger.’
And it was all she could do.
The pool rippled behind her and for a moment she felt a surge of hope. Bastien was moving, he had to be moving.
But he wasn’t. He floated face down, his hair spreading out around his head, his blood staining the water. It lapped over his still, pale fingers and began to glow.
‘Yes,’ the Hollow King said as Grace staggered away from him, the swords so heavy in her hands. This wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be possible.
It was all her fault.
‘Bastien,’ she whispered. But he couldn’t answer.
There was only the Hollow King now. And the Maegen, bubbling up in the pool, surrounding her lover’s dead body, feeding on his blood in order to be reborn. Magic, its purest form, neither light nor dark but a combination of both. Inside her she could hear the Deep Dark crowing in triumph.
The Hollow King had forgotten her now. He walked towards the glowing water, and it illuminated his feature
s. He had Bastien’s face, perfect and beautiful to her, more beautiful than anyone had a right to be. It was the face of a god and it had been stolen from the man she loved. Again.
What could she do to stop it? It didn’t seem possible. She’d got Bastien killed. He’d trusted her, loved her. And she’d got him killed.
‘He let himself die,’ the Hollow King assured her. Was he inside her mind even now? Or was the Deep Dark feeding her thoughts to him? ‘He let me kill him and that was his fate, then and now. He said it was his honour to serve. And he has served, full circle, to restore the magic, and set us free.’
Grace sobbed out Bastien’s name, heedless of the power rushing through her, the rage and the pain.
‘Take the power that is yours,’ the Deep Dark whispered. The chorus of myriad voices laughed and jeered. It didn’t want to follow the Hollow King. It didn’t want to be constrained by anyone. ‘Take it and use it.’
What did she have to lose any more? The Hollow King had taken everything from her. She reached into the Deep Dark, fully cognisant now of what she was doing. She no longer cared. There was nothing to care about. Bastien was gone. She reached out with all that she was and seized everything.
The rage burned through her, and as it erupted, the Hollow King turned to her, a look of shock on his perfect features. His eyes glowed like sunlight, but she burned brighter. Her whole body was fire, her rage flaming through her.
‘What are you doing?’
She didn’t know, nor did she care. She reached out blindly, the way she had when the Deep Dark first possessed her in the inn. She felt the magic in the air, in him, in the water and the stones, all the power rippling around her, surging, pulsing. And she grabbed it. Drew it into herself. All that magic, all that power. She took it from the Maegen itself. All of it.
‘What are you doing?’ the Hollow King shouted again, panic filling his voice now. He ran at her, head down, intent on taking her off her feet, on crushing her, breaking her.
She didn’t care.
Nightborn: Totally addictive fantasy fiction (The Hollow King Book 2) Page 25
