by L. Penelope
Two guards thundered down the steps and paused in shock when they saw her. She raised her cudgel high, then swung it toward them. The club emitted a rumbling boom that struck the guards in their chests, forcing them back to crash against the stairs.
Kyara regarded the weapon with wide eyes. Her ears rang from the force of the sound. More steps came from above. She turned to see the twins and their father disappearing into the hidden door. Darvyn leaned against the wall, obviously exhausted, waiting for her.
“Get in,” she said in as loud a whisper as she dared. His hard eyes glittered defiantly.
Two more pairs of boots descended the steps. She raised the cudgel again, swooping it forward, somewhat more prepared for the blast of sound it emitted this time. It felled the newest reinforcements. Only then did she race back and push Darvyn into the passageway, closing the door behind her.
They caught up to the others quickly. Varten was regaining his strength, yet moving through the narrow tunnel was slow going.
“What’s the best way out?” Dansig asked.
“After what happened today, the medical wing is likely to be full—that’s how I got out before,” Roshon replied.
“There’s an intersection up ahead,” said Darvyn. “Turn left. It leads to a wing of the building where I sense few people.”
They shuffled through, following Darvyn’s directions until they reached a dead end. A very small door, only waist high, met them.
“Where does this lead?” Kyara asked.
“I’m not sure,” he admitted. “There’s someone in the hallway ahead—just one person. We’ll have to take our chances.”
Kyara gripped the cudgel tighter, toying with the idea of raising it to level four, then thinking better of it. She didn’t know what kind of damage it would cause, and the guards were merely servants. There was no reason to hurt them more than necessary.
The others stepped aside so Kyara could exit first. Darvyn insisted on being right behind her. She ignored her annoyance at his stubbornness and opened the door.
These hinges were quiet, and the door opened easily. She crouched to get through the low doorway then sprang into the brightly lit hallway and stood, wielding the cudgel in front of her like a sword, ready to face whoever was in the hall. A bark of laughter escaped her lips when she saw her adversary.
Ydaris’s eyes went wide. She froze, staring at Kyara and Darvyn beside her. The others crept out of the passageway to stand behind them, and the woman took a shaky step back.
Kyara raised her cudgel and swept it forward before a single word could escape Ydaris’s lips. She could not allow her to utter a blood spell.
The woman shot backward and smashed into the wall. A moan rose from her. She was still conscious.
Kyara advanced. All it would take was a word from Ydaris and Kyara would be compelled to hurt her friends, or worse, use her power against them. She’d only just now gotten Darvyn back; she would not harm him again.
She raced toward her tormentor, intent on ending the woman’s life once and for all and finally freeing herself from the spell. But footsteps followed her.
She turned to Darvyn angrily. “Get away from me. Don’t you know what she could make me do with one word?”
Darvyn looked back and forth from the fallen Cantor to Kyara.
“I have to kill her,” she said. “It will end the blood spell.”
“Wait,” Ydaris’s soft voice said. Kyara stepped away from Darvyn, dropping the cudgel, afraid she’d be made to use it against him.
“Pick it up,” Kyara breathed. Darvyn bent and grasped it. “Remember your promise to me.” She held his eyes and saw the recognition there. In Lagrimar, she had made him swear to disable her—to do whatever was necessary—if she ever became a threat to him.
She turned to face Ydaris and her jaw dropped in horror and surprise. The woman’s medallion must have come off when she’d crashed against the wall for instead of the regally imposing beauty Kyara was used to seeing, an ancient hag lay in her place. Her green eyes were dull, her skin worn and lined with advanced age, and her eyes sunken into her head. She looked like a corpse.
Ydaris reached for the medallion, which lay several paces away. Darvyn stalked over, picked it up, and held it over her.
“I will crush this if you do anything to command Kyara.”
Blood spells like the one that bound Kyara were ancient magic requiring no amalgam or Earthsong. Ydaris’s frightened eyes blinked rapidly. She looked to Kyara and nodded silently.
“Please don’t kill me.” The woman’s voice was little more than a rasp.
“Why not?” Anger filled Kyara’s voice. She couldn’t believe Ydaris had the nerve to beg for her life after all the lives she’d taken.
“I will release the spell. I vow it. Just … just return my medallion and let me live. I have information the Elsirans will want to hear.”
Kyara snorted and crossed her arms. Bargaining now was cowardly. But Darvyn seemed interested. He crouched so he was closer to the woman’s level and spoke low. “Release the spell now, and then we’ll talk.”
Ydaris swallowed. Much to Kyara’s surprise, the woman began speaking in the language of blood magic. A long spell, with some familiar words—binding, command, girl.
The skin of Kyara’s chest began to cool, and she pulled her ragged tunic away to find the wound healing before her eyes. It felt as though she’d been carrying an anvil around her neck for the past ten years and now it was finally gone. She rubbed her breastbone and sank to her knees. Tears she couldn’t control overflowed to stream down her cheeks.
“It’s gone.” Darvyn’s gaze found her, and Kyara spoke directly to him. “It’s gone.”
He smiled sadly, then turned to Ydaris.
“What do we do with her?” Kyara asked, hoping the answer was kill her. But she suspected Darvyn had something else in mind, especially if Ydaris truly did have useful information.
“The Lagrimari people have a deep need for justice,” he said. “Ydaris has wronged us—you more than most. However, her death belongs to all of us. Just as the True Father’s does.”
He stood and came over to Kyara, helping her stand. They had barely touched since he’d come to rescue her, and she gripped him hard.
“There will be trials. It is what our people need to move on. Seeing the Cantor brought to justice will help many.”
Kyara looked at the pathetic old woman before them, who was cowering in disgrace. It did not seem right to let her live, but Kyara understood the truth of Darvyn’s words.
“No matter what she says, we can’t allow her to keep the medallion,” Kyara said.
Darvyn regarded Ydaris again and nodded.
“Put her to sleep,” Kyara suggested. “We will have to carry her, but it will be safer.”
“Wait!” Dansig cried out.
They turned around to face him. He held up Varten with one arm but raised the other. “Does she have the key?”
Kyara faced Ydaris again, and the woman’s hand lowered to the skirt of her dress.
“Slowly,” Kyara warned, worried about some hidden amalgam in her pocket. But Ydaris merely pulled out a key chain. Her knotted fingers slipped through the keys until she held up a tiny one.
“Roshon, come get it. Make sure it works,” Kyara called out.
The twin ran up and grabbed the key. Kyara began to search Ydaris’s pockets, ensuring she had no surprises hidden within. An intake of breath sounded behind her. Kyara turned in time to see the two red bracelets clatter to the floor.
Dansig’s face was shot through with relief. “Now put her to sleep,” he said to Darvyn.
In a moment, Ydaris slumped to the ground. Kyara marched over to pick her up and cut her eyes to Darvyn as he rushed over. “Save your strength,” she said. “All of it. I can carry this bag of bones.” She pulled the woman over her shoulder. “Let’s get out of here.”
* * *
Their footsteps thundered down the staircase at the end of
the hall. The weight of Ydaris on Kyara’s shoulder felt like nothing in comparison to that of the blood spell. They reached a landing where glass doors led to a terrace overlooking the lake.
Darvyn kicked the doors open, and they all charged outside. “We’ll have to swim for it,” he said. “That’s really how you escaped, Roshon?”
The teen nodded. Kyara smiled to know that Roshon had done so well.
Below them, the island’s shoreline was in upheaval. Physicks were piling into boats left and right; some were swimming away. They must not have realized that the threat of the spirits had been extinguished.
A giant boom sounded and the building began to shake. Kyara’s head snapped up as the castle’s stone walls vibrated and ripples extended across the lake. “That would be Asenath,” she said, pride in her voice.
“Do you think she destroyed the machine?” Roshon asked.
Thick smoke began to pour from somewhere below, and Kyara scrutinized the shore again. “That’s a safe bet.”
A rectangular, metal-encased boat sailed into view from behind the palace. “Look!” Kyara said. “I don’t think Varten can make the swim, and this old crone certainly can’t.” She hefted Ydaris, repositioning her on her shoulder. “We can get away in one of those.”
The boats were large enough to carry all of them twice over. She stepped to the edge of the terrace, which was only one story off ground level. Below, dark sand met the lake’s edge. “We’ll have to jump.”
“If we use a pocket of air, we can soften our fall,” Dansig said. Darvyn turned to him with surprise. “Link with me, and we’ll do it together.”
Darvyn assented, and the two men held hands. Kyara led the others to the terrace edge.
“On three.” Darvyn swung a leg over the railing.
“One.” Kyara gripped Ydaris’s limp form more tightly, eyeing the ground below them warily.
“Two.” Roshon and Varten linked arms and looked down.
“Three.” She leaped. In her mind, Kyara screamed, though her voice was silent. A soft cushion of air cradled her, and it slowed her descent and supported her until she reached the ground with a soft thud, not a head-splitting crash.
She breathed deeply, looking in shock at the others who wore similar expressions.
Varten smiled big. “Why haven’t we ever done that before, Papa?”
Appearing a bit queasy, Roshon elbowed his brother in the side. The other twin was much improved, though he wore the evidence of his recent illness in the deep circles under his eyes and his thin frame.
Nearby, guards, servants, and Physicks alike were racing to the marina behind the castle where the boats were docked, chased by the smoke pouring from the Academie. Cracks were forming in the stone walls, and groans from inside warned that the structure was about to collapse.
Kyara and the others hid behind a low wall dividing the castle grounds from the shore. “They’ll see us if we get any closer,” she said.
Darvyn’s keen gaze took in the chaos around them. “Roshon and I are dressed as Physicks already. We just need three more robes for you, Varten, and Dansig.”
“Roshon, give me yours,” Dansig said. “I’ll get the rest. You all find a boat for us.” He took his son’s robe and rushed off into the fray before anyone could stop him.
Kyara set Ydaris on the ground, trying to be careful with her. Her anger had morphed to cold pity as she gazed at the old woman’s face. All the magic she’d used over the years had done this to her. Her medallion must be very powerful, indeed, to allow her to do so much.
Kyara refocused on the vessels before them, which were quickly dwindling in number as people escaped, some with only a few on board.
“That one,” Darvyn said, pointing to a boat set off from the rest. “Everyone seems to be avoiding it.”
“That’s probably because it looks damaged. It may not run,” Kyara said. The crafts were motorized, but whether it was with amalgam or just regular mechanics, she wasn’t sure.
“We don’t need it to run. We just need it not to sink. Dansig and I can spell the waves to do the rest.”
Kyara shrugged as Dansig returned, clutching three robes to his chest. They donned them quickly, then raced to the lonely ship.
With another frightening boom, one of the spires of the castle fell forward and crashed down, taking huge chunks of the floors below with it and smashing into a cloud of smoke.
“Not a moment too soon,” Roshon said as they piled into the boat.
The craft was some kind of speeder with a bank of controls to manage the engine. Except it lacked one important component—the actual engine. But they had something better …
Darvyn and Dansig linked hands again as another spire from the castle moaned and detached itself from its foundation. The boat thrust into the water, moving swiftly. Kyara turned back to watch another section of the castle crumble away into the water and thought of Asenath. Had the woman gotten out? Kyara hoped so with all her heart, wishing they would meet again one day.
She swallowed, hard, and looked at the men around her. The Earthsingers in control of the vessel pointed it toward a wooded section of the far shore, away from where the other escaping Physicks were headed.
Kyara held on to the side of the boat, the wind rushing against her face. For the first time, she allowed herself to contemplate freedom. There was no wound restricting her actions, no chains binding her, and Darvyn—her Darvyn—was alive.
She was afraid to allow herself to enjoy this moment, afraid of her first taste of joy in a very long time.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Ayal tunneled upward through rock and soil, passing the deep roots of an old tree. She emerged in brightness and confusion, surrounded by a sea of white sand. Heat pummeled from the relentless sun, and she wandered, lost, until Girl-With-Hands-Like-Ice found her.
—THE AYALYA
Ella held her breath as she pushed the door to her flat open. Next to her, Tana and Ulani stood in the doorway, peering cautiously into the room.
“Come in, come in,” she said, shooing the girls forward. Nerves bit her belly as she took in their reactions.
“It isn’t much, just one bedroom, but we’ll only be here for a few days. My friend Anneli is renting us one of her townhomes, which has much more space, but she’s had to get it cleaned out first. It’s been empty for a few years. However, we should be able to go in there by Sixthday.”
Aware that she was rambling, she clamped her lips shut to cut off the stream of words. How much did the girls even understand? Gratitude for Anneli and her rental property threatened to burst from her seams. The older woman was eccentric to a fault, but kindhearted, and she was giving them a great deal on the lease of a town house they otherwise couldn’t have afforded.
“For the next few nights, you two can take the bed; Benn and I will sleep out here.”
Benn had borrowed two cots, which sat folded in the corner, but Ella wanted the girls to sleep in a real bed after so many weeks in the refugee camp lying on mats on the floor. She and Benn would survive for a few nights of relatively rough living.
The adoption approval had been a very welcome surprise, but they’d barely had any time to really prepare for the arrival of the girls. Her fear that Syllenne Nidos would stop the adoption had proved unfounded. She wasn’t sure who she had to thank, Gizelle or the High Priestess herself. Though the raids on the temples meant that the woman had bigger problems to deal with. Ella certainly rated low in comparison to suspicion of being involved in an act of terrorism.
After walking the perimeter of the small sitting room on wobbly legs, Ulani settled into a perch on the edge of the couch. Tana stood next to her, taking in their surroundings.
“Sit, sit—please,” Ella said, motioning the girl down. Tana sank awkwardly onto the cushion, but both girls looked uncomfortable.
“Would you prefer to sit on the ground?” Ella took the third cushion, placed it on the floor, then sat on it cross-legged. Ulani smiled and did the s
ame, followed somewhat begrudgingly by her older sister.
“Benn will be here soon.” At that, Tana looked up with interest. “We both want you to feel comfortable. It’s a lot to get used to. We want you to be happy here.”
Ulani nodded vigorously. “Happy. Very happy.”
Ella’s smile hurt her cheeks. Her nerves began to settle a fraction when a resounding knock on the door startled everyone.
She rose to answer the door and had to force herself not to close it again immediately. “Vera,” she exclaimed, though dread slid down her spine. “What a surprise. Benn didn’t tell me you were visiting.”
Vera Ravel stood before her, cheeks red from the exertion of the climb to the third floor. “I get a call from my son saying he’s adopted two—”
“Girls!” Ella called out brightly. If this woman called either of her daughters a grol, things would get ugly fast. “This is Benn’s mama.” She presented Vera with a sweep of her arm. The girls stood up and executed neat curtsies.
Ella’s brows rose. “Where did you learn that?”
“Elsiran … manners,” Tana said, glaring at Vera.
“How lovely,” she said, making a note to distinguish formal greetings from informal ones at some point in the future. For her part, Vera’s jaw still hadn’t shut. She’d probably never been curtsied to in her life. Reluctantly Ella stepped aside to allow her mother-in-law into the flat.
“Girls, this is Grandma Vera. Vera, this is Ulani and Tana.” She tried to inject some cheer into her voice, but Ulani was already regarding the woman judiciously. The child’s ability to sense emotion would be a blessing and a curse.
Still, Ulani came over and wrapped little arms around her new grandmother. Vera stiffened and patted the girl’s head lightly, appearing perplexed.
Tana approached like a skittish cat, keeping to the side of the room. She didn’t touch Vera but reached out to pull Ulani back to her side. How interesting that Ulani was the Earthsinger, aware of Vera’s feelings, but Tana exhibited far more caution.
