by N. M. Howell
Twenty-eight years he waited. Then Laoren destroyed the Doomed Mountains and he sensed his opportunity. He sent the spell for vierg’lumière out into the world. To Thea. The expense of magic left him unconscious for a month. The Almighty collapsed. For several weeks he lay senseless to the world and when he woke he felt no power at all. He waited again. And then a white-haired girl fell from the entrance above and asked him who he was. For the first time in his existence, he wanted someone else to save him. He was in the room with her when she awoke. He listened to everything Corinnalwyn said, all the terrible truths that she knew about him. He wanted to break her neck. But he watched and waited. The princess left. The war began. His nearly nonexistent followers further dwindled. He grew anxious. Laoren drew the spell from the land. He tasted the air above ground.
And now kneels beside the Queen, holding her hand.
Chapter 29
I level my blade of light at Laoren’s head. She conjures a red blade and poises. We charge. We crash upon each other with fury and power and might and the weight of all the things that ever befell us. Each clash of our blade yields a double explosion of gold and red lighting. Beautiful. Terrible. We trade blows between the swings of our blade and so hard do we battle each other that we draw blood and break bone. We have so exerted ourselves that it is becoming harder for us to heal and the pain of each blow lasts a little longer.
I do not find it strange that there is no pity between us; I aspire to the light and she is pure and total darkness. We are not seeking to capture or persuade or frighten. No. We seek annihilation of the other. We seek complete devastation. I cannot read her mind anymore, but for myself I know that I will never stop or give ground, not until her body is a breathless ruin in the snow. The winter storm whips around us, ice and hale and snow twisting round like a pale nightmare. The vortex of wind and ice spins faster than ever and the top of its funnel stirs the clouds. Someone must die here today.
She blows a corrosive mist that eats my flesh.
I draw vitality from her spirit through my eyes.
She turns her body into diamond.
I use my mind to slam her into the ground and the racing wall of the funnel.
She tries to shrink my heart.
I start a fire inside of her.
On and on we rage with magic and sword and fist, intent on nothing less than death.
Near the Pool in the Lost Paradise, Eduard awakes. At first he is furious to have been abandoned, then worried for Nevena’s safety. He wakes Thea.
“Come, Thea, we must go now.”
“What happened? Where’s Nevena?”
“She is doing what she must. I wish on my life to be wherever she is, but if she left us it is for a reason. I won’t defy her by following her through the Pool. Who can tell where they are now, anyway?”
“But she may need us. She has brought us too far and saved us too many times for us to turn our backs on her.”
“Thea, trust your heart.”
“I dare not, for it bids me follow her, whether I could be of use or not. But I will trust Nevena’s power, for even now I know the witch must be regretting her intentions. But what of you and me?”
“We will make for High Bay first. I suppose it’s wisest to return to Moerdra Castle, for all our forces will have converged there by now. And we must protect Delara’s child at all costs.”
“It is your child, too.”
“That is difficult to explain,” he says, standing and looking away. “It is true that it was my body that Delara lay with, but it was not me. It was Horace: his mind, his soul, his desire, and his seed. I do not know if it makes sense to you, my lady, but I have no claim to that sweet child and as far as matters go neither does Horace. She is your sister’s daughter.”
“My niece,” Thea says, finally able to stand. “She is all the family I have left now.”
“My lady,” Eduard says, taking her hands, “We gave your sister a proper burial, with all her rights and honors. It was a heartbroken, desperate girl who committed the crimes of the war, not your sister.”
“I know I shall weep a great deal later,” Thea says, blinking away tears even as she speaks, “But right now we must go.”
“Hold on to me and I will carry you down.”
“Wait,” Thea says, turning to the Pool and gazing past its topaz surface, “Roasha said the Pool in the Rock Realms was one of the sisters. There must be more. Surely one will bring us close to home.”
They walk to the edge of the Pool and stare into it. Thea takes Eduard’s hand and they jump. They enter a world the stunning diamond color of topaz and surrounding them are some thirty portals. One shows a land all too familiar.
At Moerdra Castle, outside that towering funnel of wind and ice and fury, the battle for the soul of the earth rages. Blood and bone and steel. Magic and greed and courage. Man and creature and monster. History will tell of a tale as devastating as it was glorious, a tale of heart versus hate. A tale, like any worth telling, of good against evil.
In the other kingdoms and realms, the dragons and Blackhearts rest among the ruins and damage of war, for they have fought hard and long. They cannot make it back to Moerdra Castle in time to be of help. They send their prayers and wishes, and then begin to mourn their own, for they have lost many as well.
I run my blade of light through the witch’s side. By now we have both stopped healing and the realization of that fact has brought a horrifying gravity to this fight. An undeniable finality. I push the blade in to the hilt. I have not time to evade before her red blade sinks into my thigh. The pain is excruciating. I summon the earth beneath her and raise it to her waist, then transform it into iron. I stumble and fall as she pulls the blade from my leg. As I lay there, she casts a black star at my neck. It pins my head to the ground and begins to choke me. Laoren transforms into wind and so frees herself. She rises into the air. I repeat her trick to escape the star and as freezing winds I rise to meet her. We circle each other then join as one malevolent, frenetic mass, hot and cold, push and pull. I merge us with the funnel and we are disoriented then thrown back to the earth. We resume our normal forms.
I can see in her eyes that she is fading fast. I can see in her eyes that she sees me fading as well.
“You can die proud, little girl,” she says. “You have fought admirably and with more skill than I expected from a mongrel like you. You have even wounded me. Die with glory, so long as you die.”
“Fret not, witch,” I say, barely able to breathe. “This will soon end for you. Too long has the stench of your evil crept upon this earth. Too many deaths have you dealt. Watch now with keen attention as I show you the face of true power.
I rise to my feet, ignoring the pain, blocking out my own exhaustion. I raise my arms and mute the world. All sound vanishes. I flip my wrists and all the land outside of this funnel goes blacker than the darkest corner of the cosmos. I see with new eyes a blue world where Laoren’s form in front of me appears as a woman made of fire. Of evil. My feet rise off of the ground and my body transforms into diamond and ice and frost. The winds and snow pour out from my body and my eyes become two points of beautiful, brilliant blue light. And for the first time I see Laoren cower.
She conjures great boulders in the air and launches them at me. They break upon my face like flakes of snow. She breathes fire at my chest and I feel it not. She throws daggers and lions and lightning and smoke, but all to no avail. She rains black stars upon me. They bounce from my flesh harmlessly. She sees it now: I have transcended. I throw out my hands and begin to freeze her insides. She drops to her knees, but not before I impale her with three sharp icicles. I pour the freezing winds upon her and she turns blue as her blood stiffens and her heart begins to slow. I conjure the blade of lightning and plunge it into her stomach. I hover before her, a Queen of snow and terrible power.
“Who am I?”
She does not respond. I increase my power upon her.
“Who am I?”
She st
ares up at me in fear and grim realization. No doubt the long and countless millennia of her life are pouring across her mind and heart. And she knows now, without question, that her reign of darkness is at an end and she will never sit upon the throne of heaven.
“Who am I?” I demand, my power filling her body.
I clench my fist and draw her magic from her bones. She looks up at me with tears in her eyes.
“You are the Winter Queen.”
And I rip her heart out.
As her eyes close, so, too, do mine.
Chapter 30
I wake a week later to find myself lying in bed, in the cleared ruins of the Walk of the Fallen. All the people I love are beside me. Eduard, Thea, Jasslwyn, Yunger. Thea holds her niece in her arms, smiling, and my heart rejoices to see her on her feet again. Eduard tells me, but I knew it from seeing their faces. We have won the war.
An hour later, the others have gone and it is just me and Eduard. Finally we have time to share what happened to use those three years we were apart. We lay in bed all night, talking of the time we lost and all the time ahead of us. Our hearts tear through so many emotions, that I’m almost unsure of what we are left with. And then he kisses me and calls me Winter Queen. I am reminded of a fact that I almost forgot during the dark nights of the war.
I am loved.
The next day, we begin the long and difficult process of rebuilding our lives. Thea is already overseeing the plans for the rebuilding of Moerdra Castle. It will take some time, but it will be built the way it used to be, brick for brick. She and baby Nevena have become fast friends and though I hear her weeping in her room all through the night, I do not worry for her. She is incredibly strong. She puts out a call to the survivors of the land of Dao, asking for their help, but only after they have finished rebuilding their own homes. To our surprise, they come to Moerdra Castle first. It seems that however they felt about Delara, they still love Thea.
It is not long before the army disbands and thousands upon thousands of men, women, and creatures make for their homelands. There are many hearts weighted with the sadness of parting, for war breeds strong friendships among fellows in arms, but smiles flow like water at the thought of going home. They bid each other goodbye with many true promises of visits and reunions. At last the long war is over and they may return to their homes with pride, glory, and remarkable courage in their hearts.
I am surprised to find the Aiglon among the men. They are still anxious when near me, but for my willingness to die for them and all the other races of the earth, they offer me a tenuous forgiveness and bow to me as of old. This time I bow in return. I am graciously extended an invitation to the Land of Dolnock and I promise to go soon to assist them in rebuilding. I would follow them now, but I have not regained my strength yet. I do send with them my thanks for all their brave battle.
Marciason and Baehren, after tending to all of us and being tended to themselves, assist us in preparing the Walk of the Fallen until new healers arrive. They teach us some of their ways and leave us with all the tools and books they have carried with them. They even teach me new healing and diagnostic spells. It is hard on Thea to see them go, for she has spent a great deal of time with them and they have done so much for her. They gave her back her legs. They plan to leave now and rejoin the remaining fingers—five did not survive the war. They will refill their numbers and travel the kingdoms helping when and how they can. They are also going to change their title, for they vow to no longer bear the name of that fiend who gave Laoren power and put vengeance in her heart. Thea promises to visit them in their great tree in the Tein as soon as possible.
The work of rebuilding Moerdra Castle and healing the land of Dao begins. It is arduous and at times devastatingly sad, but we have each other and we have a peaceful world. Eduard uses his magic and assists in a great way. I use mine slowly and carefully as I heal. Thea works, too, though she has chosen not to be trained, preferring instead to explore the possibilities of the pure magic inside of her. When Laoren’s body was searched, it was discovered that there was only one Stone remaining. Since Thea has the vierg’lumière and a pure hear to match, the stowing of the Stone has been left to her. She is fast becoming a woman. She touches us all with golden visions and shows us the way to rebuilding, healing, and preventing such catastrophe from ever coming upon the earth again.
Word reaches us from all over. The Hundred Kingdoms. The uncharted realms. The Sightless Sea. Laoren’s hordes have all been defeated or captured. We even have word from Targaross that the dragons and Blackhearts arrived through Pools and wrought a most decisive ruin. All across the earth there is peace and freedom.
Eduard finally shares with me his memory of the Almighty, or Ragnarok, as the villain wishes to be called. After all I have learned about this jealous, childish despot I am not surprised to hear this story. He, Yunger, Jasslwyn, and I sit together, talking of Ragnarok, the last dark stain in this dawning age of light and good.
“We do not even know where he is,” Yunger says. “And if his power is so great he may look like anyone. Even one of us. He could be drifting over our heads at this very moment.”
“He could be on his throne in heaven,” says Jasslwyn. “He has made no move in the last four hundred years. How are we to know what he intends? Is it possible he has forgotten us? Could we be safe?”
“Possibly,” Eduard says, “But it is hard to know for sure. When I encountered him all those years ago he was so angry, so full of hate. He was totally bent on our destruction. For a being as old he, four hundred years must feel to him like an hour to us. I would bet my soul that he will come for us. And I do not know what we have that can stop him.”
“The Stone,” Jasslwyn says. “We could defeat him with the Stone.”
“True, but we do not know what kind of toll it would take on Thea to power it,” says Yunger. “We cannot forget that as wise as she is, she is still just a girl. Using the Stone could kill her. Or it could kill us all, for if the legends are true there is nothing more powerful in Creation.”
“Then what is our path? Is it wise to seek him out?”
“No,” I say. “Neither is it wise to wait for him. It is equally as unwise to touch the Stone, hide it, use it, forget it, or even have Thea in the room with it for more than a moment. There is no good path, no viable option. We can do no more than carry on with our lives, for even if we sat here every night scheming away into the grey hours of morning, we would never be prepared. He is Ragnarok. We are two magical people, a general, and a strong woman. Formidable, but mere dust to him. But let us not end with these sad thoughts. I will not say goodbye to you with clouds of despair hanging over us.”
Jasslwyn smiles and we stand to embrace each other.
“I know now why my father told me to love you,” she whispers. “It was because only love can make a Queen.”
“You must come as soon as you are able,” Yunger says, shaking Eduard’s hand and kissing me as I used to kiss him. “Though rest easy knowing the wedding will never take place without you there.”
“We will leave soon,” says Eduard. “And rest easy knowing we will bring as many gifts as we can carry.”
“Well, sorcerer, I expect you can call your dragon friends and shower us with presents.”
“Your being there will be gift enough,” Jasslwyn says. “How could I marry without you behind me, dear girl?”
“I cannot put my happiness into words,” I begin. “This is a perfect beginning to a new world. We will aid Thea in leaving instructions for the rebuilding of the castle and then we will visit my people in the Winterlands. I have much work to do there. And then I will be with you, cousin, on the greatest day of your life.”
We embrace again and they turn to leave. They are almost turning the corner beyond my sight when I call her. She turns to me.
“I’m ready now,” I say, a timid smile on my face.
She smiles back.
“Maerolwyn.”
We leave the plans f
or the reconstruction of Moerdra Castle in the hands of the architects and masons, and we are making our way across the Hundred Kingdoms. There is great devastation in the lands we cross; once beautiful and precious lands are now black, beaten ruins. Many cultures and peoples have been eradicated entirely and the structures they built with their own hands have been torn down and made wreckage. There are places in Glassenross where the Amber still burns across the land. I am now fully healed and Eduard and I do what we can to help those we meet along the way. There is great sadness, but also great joy. There is happiness and fellowship. Hope and love. The survivors left on earth are excited for the future, basking in their freedom. There will be much mourning for a long time yet, but the world will continue.
At last Thea, Eduard, and I reach the Winterlands and receive a tremendous welcome. Corinnalwyn has been hard at work healing the land with her magic and returning it to its former frozen magnificence. My people are hard at work clearing the dead and turning the soil so that life may return to these lands. I make straight for Corinnalwyn and this time I do not greet her with hate or anger, but with all of me. I throw myself in her arms. I fall into my mother’s arms. We are so happy to be reunited, so thrilled at the prospect of our lives together that for the first few moments our words are unintelligible. Then she introduces me to my father, Rhealwyn. I lose myself in his arms as well. I do not know how to describe this joy, this state of absolute bliss and dream. Jasslwyn’s parents have gone to Gardenwall to be with their daughter as she makes preparations, but I meet others of my family. I learn names and kiss cheeks and am hugged so much and at every turn that I begin to laugh.
