They turned and made their way back down the hall toward Frenhin’s Craigyl court. But just as they were about to reach the doors, they came upon a group approaching from the other direction.
The group had their swords drawn and seemed ready for trouble.
Braith’s heart stuttered. She took in their appearance from head to toe and realized this lot would always look ready for trouble.
“Pirates,” she murmured.
The big one at the head of the pack grinned. “Aye. Gyth, at your service.” But then his eyes widened as he took in Braith. “Your . . . Highness?”
“Majesty,” Bo-Fergel corrected. “This is Queen Braith En-Gareth.”
“You was princess last we was in Tir, Majesty. Apologies.” Gyth nodded to the group behind him. “Hope you don’t mind, but we got some business to attend to just now.”
A woman edged her way to the front of the pack. There was blood on her blouse, though it looked like whatever wound spilled it had been bandaged up tightly. Braith’s brows rose as she took in the woman’s purple-streaked blonde hair knotted together with ribbons and seashells.
“It’s you, isn’t it?” the woman said, eyeing Braith. She shook her head. “I should’ve known.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Told you all it was something big. Else Mor wouldn’t have put up such a fight.”
“Bested us, you mean, Ven.” Gyth folded his arms across his chest. “You refusing to say it don’t make it less true.”
The woman glared. “Aye, I get it.” She adjusted her stance. “He said it was bigger than him.” She glanced back at Braith. “He wasn’t jesting.”
“Excuse me,” Braith interrupted. “But did you say Mor? You know Mor Bo-Lidere?”
Gyth snorted. “He was our captain once.”
Heavens. Braith looked at the ragtag bunch again and tried not to be judgmental. She had always known Captain Bo-Lidere had once been disposed to piracy, but it was a tad strange to see the vestiges of it right in front of her.
Kharn pulled Braith tighter to his side and addressed Ven. “Will you tell us your plan? I assume you do not wish harm to your former captain.” He shot a skeptical glance at the wound in Ven’s abdomen. “Can we take that to mean we share common goals?”
“If Mor’s on your side, then aye, we share a common goal. We tracked him here to offer him and his crew our swords. To make up for a previous lapse in judgment, if you will.” Ven raised an eyebrow at the foursome before her. “And what, pray tell, is your plan, Sir Fancypants?”
A sandy-haired man elbowed her in her uninjured side and muttered, “Can you not get us executed, please, Venewth?”
She shrugged.
But Kharn didn’t react. “We’re on our way to assist our friends. They are facing a terrible foe in there. We will do whatever we can to help them.”
The pirates all seemed to be trying to hold on to their laughter. A Meridioni woman covered her mouth and looked away. The sandy-haired one clamped down on his lip.
Venewth crossed her arms and smirked. “No offense, but if you really want to help them, you’ll stay out of the way. Fancypants here might be useful with a sword—no idea. But the rest of you?” She nodded at Bo-Fergel. “That one would blow over in a strong breeze.” Her gaze traveled to Master Insegno. “And nonno looks like he might have been alive to witness the dawn of time.” She flashed a smile that looked semi-apologetic. “No offense.”
Braith tried to force the indignation from her voice. “They have come to rescue me at great personal risk, and if I can—”
“Your Majesty.” Venewth’s smirk was still twisting her lips, but her eyes had softened. “That’s my point. They have risked everything to save you. If you want to honor that, the best thing you can do is hide.” She looked at Kharn. “Hide the queen. Make sure she gets out of here alive or else their sacrifice is for nothing.” She laughed and shook her head. “I knew it was important when Mor was willing to cross blades with me over it. But the Queen of fire-blazing Tir. That lad always did know how to find trouble.”
“But I . . .” Braith couldn’t finish the thought. Despite the somewhat-rude delivery, this pirate lady was right.
“Queen Braith.” Venewth lowered herself to one knee, a bit slowly with her injury. She bowed her head, and the rest of the crew followed her lead. “As captain of this band of barbarians, I swear our fealty to you—for at least the next twenty minutes.” She glanced up, eyes twinkling. “Let us serve you in this way.”
“For Mor,” Gyth added.
“For Mor,” Captain Venewth conceded. “Please promise you will stay safe.”
It pained Braith to admit it, but she would be a liability and a distraction if she walked into that room. “Yes. I promise.”
“Excellent.” Captain Venewth rose. “We’ll find you after we save the day.”
And with a grin wide enough to reveal a few gold teeth, Venewth swept into Frenhin’s domain, her crew trailing loyally behind her.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
DIGWYN
Tannie has tried her hardest. Done her best. She really believes it—that people can do and be better.
I guess I do too. Because that’s what I’m trying to do, even if it’ll be my last act.
It’s a good final choice.
But I know Frenhin will not turn back. I see it brewing in her eyes—the kind of hatred and rage that eats a person from the inside out.
That was my future, so I know it well.
Tannie waits. Listens to this wicked woman threaten the general, threaten her, threaten everything.
But I am not holding my breath in anticipation of what Frenhin will say next. Because I already know. Instead, I’m ready. Ready to strike.
I adjust the spear in my hands, thankful for my training from Kawan some years ago.
Not my favorite weapon. I prefer my daggers. But spears are better than swords, at least. Longer range, lighter weight.
“You don’t have to do this,” Tannie says again.
Frenhin leans forward, her smile glinting. “But really, I do.”
And I take that moment. Fast, like lightning. Like the strike of a snake. Like Kawan taught me.
I sink the spear into her right shoulder—opposite side from her abdominal wound. I had aimed for the soft, unprotected flesh of her neck, but my reach isn’t what I’d wish, the weapon not my most comfortable.
Frenhin’s shriek fills the cavern.
For some reason, my gaze drifts up. Up toward the ceiling. Up to where I have hidden the jar of strands. A faint glow emanates from the cleft in the rock. Something about her shriek ignites my instinct to protect those strands—to make sure they don’t come anywhere near her hands again.
Frenhin’s focus goes toward the jar, and I know I’ve made a mistake. I don’t have a tick to think. I feint with the spear as though I’ll strike her again, and she leans away. But before I complete the thrust, I release the strand-spear. It clatters to the ground, and I’m three handholds up the wall again.
“No!” Frenhin screams. We both know she can’t chase me.
But her strands can.
A tongue of fire licks my right leg. I cry out. But I regain my rhythm after half a breath.
“Naith!” Frenhin shouts. “Kill them all except the pirate and the story peddler. Bring them to me!”
I keep climbing, but I wonder at this—how can the wheedling, impotent priest kill anything when he has spent the entire battle lurking in the shadows and shrinking behind Frenhin?
But when I glance down, I see that Frenhin is somehow channeling strands of fire and metal and death through her flatterer. Now they have four hands instead of two, two targets instead of one.
I slip most of my body into the cleft of rock where I’ve tucked the jar. She could still burn me from here, and I can scarcely breathe, so small is the space. But I can catch my wind. Think about what to do next.
And watch.
I see Naith, his borrowed power emboldening him as he charges my brother. Mor is still hudd
led with his wounded friend—mortally wounded, if you want my opinion, but Mor wouldn’t hear that. Even if I could tell him.
“Stop.” Karlith steps in front of Mor and Zel, her palms facing the priest. “Naith Bo-Offriad, you will come no further.”
Naith freezes. But then a cold smile spreads across his face. “Karlith Ma-Lundir.”
“You should not speak his name.” Karlith’s hands are still raised, her voice calm—but cold as a snowy day. “You should not speak the names of those whose lives you have stolen.”
“I am not beholden to you or your code of honor.” Naith spits on the ground at her feet.
“Aye, that’s true enough.” Karlith’s fingertips light up. “So be it.”
A flood of blue colormastery strands pour from Karlith’s hands. Naith meets the water—calm, soothing, and pure, just like Karlith—with Frenhin’s fire.
I duck away from the edge just in time to avoid a similar fire strand, this one from Frenhin, directed at me.
I pause for a breath, then peek back over the edge. Tannie and the general are together now, battling Frenhin. She engages them both while firing a strand at me whenever she can.
Without Yestin’s help, the battle with the guards on the far side of the room seems to have turned against us.
But it is mostly blocked from my view by the massive whirlpool of water and fire swirling just beneath me.
I’ve never seen Karlith fight so fiercely, and I realize suddenly the full truth of what she said. Naith killed her husband. Her children too? I’m not certain, but I see the mother in her rise up as her blue strands swell to twice their usual size—then thrice. They swallow up Naith’s fire completely. Frenhin falters as her proxy strands are snuffed out. The streams of water throw Naith to the ground.
And then Karlith closes her hands. “Enough.”
The water swirls one final round, then crashes down with a splash. The rock is painted in waves, like the sea.
Naith is soaked—shivering and cowering on the stone. He glares up at Karlith. “Go on, then. Take your revenge at last. You have waited a long time. Ten years, is it?”
“Longer,” she says. She stares at him for a moment, then closes her eyes. Draws a deep breath. “No. I will not take a life. Not even yours.”
Naith gapes. Then his mouth snaps shut. “Not even if I will take yours instead?”
Karlith smiles. “Oh, Naith Bo-Offriad. You understand so little. I am ready to meet my Maker. He dictates my steps. Are you ready to meet him?”
He glowers. Stares hatred into her. “Today is not the day we’ll find out.”
And then I see it. He reaches toward his ankle, and I detect the concealed sheath—the place where he stores his dagger.
“No!” The word rips from my throat as I swing out of my hiding spot, grab a handhold with my right hand, and draw my own dagger from my left hip.
It’s not a good position. I don’t have the right angle, proper leverage, or anything else I ought to have to throw properly. And I’ll be giving up one of my weapons if I make the throw.
I do it anyway, because this is Karlith—the kind woman who sat with me on the Lysian as I sipped spike-fruit tea and shook with fear and remembrance, unraveling at my seams. The one who knitted me sweaters and called me love and treated me like I was a human being, not an animal.
Naith lunges forward, and my dagger misses its mark. Grazes his back as he thrusts his blade into Karlith’s gut.
His was a wild swing. Not one designed to end life quickly or mercifully, or even painfully. Just the rough stab of a cowardly man hoping to save his own skin. And then he pulls back and does it again, then once more.
Karlith contracts over the third strike, and I see where it’s buried. He has found her liver by pure happenstance.
And I know Karlith will be dead in a few moments.
I swing down the wall, jump the last ten feet, and come up with a dagger in each hand.
Naith’s eyes go wide at the sight of me, and that brings more satisfaction than it ought.
He scrambles away, but I’m too fast. The first dagger sinks into his thigh—because I’m enraged and my aim is off. The second hits his shoulder, just above his heart. But it doesn’t go in as deep as I want.
“Diggy, love.” Karlith’s soft voice behind me. “No more, dearest.”
I turn and crouch beside her. This part of the cavern is turning into an infirmary. An infirmary where my friends lie dying.
“Karlith.” I examine the wound to make sure I’m not wrong. To make sure there really isn’t anything Warmil could do if he were here and not trying to keep those gray guards at bay.
But I’m not wrong. Blood gushes from all three stab wounds—worst from the last, and I’m almost sure he has cut the artery. Her color is already fading, lips ashen, skin blueing.
“It’s all right, love.” Karlith draws a shallow breath. “It’s all right.”
“Nothing about this is all right, Karlith.” I hate the tears choking my voice. “Nothing.”
She smiles a little, but it falls almost immediately. Too much effort. “Diggy, I . . .” Her eyes close, then she forces them halfway open. “I’m proud of you.”
I take her hand.
“You will find your way back,” she whispers.
I don’t tell her I plan to die. To go out in a blaze of heroic sacrifice.
But she tsks at me, almost like she can read my mind. “Life is the harder, better choice.” Another faint smile. “Do it.”
And then she’s gone. She’s gone, and I’m ready to tear down the walls of this place at the injustice.
“Well, Bo-Lidere,” an unfamiliar voice shakes me from myself.
A woman with purple-streaked blonde hair is standing in front of us, her sword drawn and her eyes darting around the room. “What mess is it this time?” A gleam appears in her expression. “And how can we help?”
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
TANWEN
My first instinct was to shoot a strand of webbing at Venewth to stick her to the wall and get her away from Mor.
But then I saw they were talking—Mor was gesturing toward Zel, then the Minasimetese pirate Seni Kaizu crouched down and examined the fallen storyteller. And Mor climbed to his feet at last. My gaze drifted to Diggy, and I saw her reach up to close Karlith’s eyes.
No.
I swallowed hard—swallowed down all the grief and pain that wanted to rise up and spill over, and tucked it away for later.
Because now was not the time for it. Now was the time to end all this.
Venewth’s crew joined the fray with Brac’s little army. I turned to Father. “Go. Help them.”
“Tannie . . .”
I placed my hand on his arm and guided his attention to Frenhin. She was leaning against her chair, her chest heaving. Resting. Gathering strength. Naith whimpered and bled at her feet.
“It has to be us, Father. It has to be me and Mor. And Diggy. The moment you get close enough, she’ll resort to her magic again. We have to defeat her on her own ground.”
He frowned, but then he nodded. “Aye. I know.”
I squeezed his arm. “I love you, Daddy.”
“I love you, Tannie girl.” He kissed my forehead.
And he was gone. Back into the skirmish to do what he did best.
Well . . . if I’m being perfectly honest, he’s pretty good at being a father too.
I looked up to find Mor and Diggy striding toward me.
Aye, it was time.
“We’re going to have to work together,” I said. Frenhin was beginning to draw herself up. “None of us are strong enough to do it alone.”
“Link,” Diggy said. “Link and I’ll help.”
Mor and I faced each other. The smallest smile lifted the corner of his mouth. “I’m glad I met you, Tanwen En-Yestin.”
“Is that so?” I raised an eyebrow. “Seems I made quite a mess of your life.”
He leaned forward and rested his forehead on mine. “W
orth it.”
I might have kissed him if Diggy hadn’t cut in. “This is precious. But shall we?”
I turned to see Frenhin moving toward us, her hands on fire.
Aye, we shall.
Mor took both my hands in his. Our gifts linked.
“What are you thinking about?” I asked him.
“All the tomorrows we could possibly want.”
He kept my left hand gripped in his right but released the other.
“Diggy, move,” I said, just barely hanging on to the strands that wanted to burst forth. She was right in front of us, and I didn’t want to hit her with whatever our link created.
She glanced over her shoulder. “Just trust me.” She stayed in front but crouched so we might launch our strands over her head.
Perhaps it was strange after everything that had happened, but I did trust her.
Mor and I released a volley of strands—very like those we had loosed on the Kanaci beach, all hope and light and color.
Goodness, justice, and grace.
A rainbow of light poured into the cavernous room. The torchlight paled, disappeared in the stream of color. The rock walls, the floor, even the top of the ceiling all began to glow.
And then Mor and I leaned forward and directed everything we had toward Frenhin.
Strands of starry night met ours—swallowed some of them, fought to gain control and snuff out the radiance.
I saw her brace herself—put her foot behind her so she might withstand the force of our power. She was stronger in some ways. More experienced. She had been working at this longer and had twisted her gift to make it more potent than it was supposed to be.
But Mor and I had honor on our side. We fought for what was right, and that gave us power Frenhin couldn’t touch, didn’t understand, would never have. She could offer us whatever she wanted—a place at her right hand, the ability to twist our gifts as she had hers—but it didn’t tempt us like she’d thought it would. Because we didn’t need to hurt others or warp our strands to get what we wanted.
All we wanted was a life well lived, given over to the service of others.
Our strands coursed with renewed energy. Frenhin grimaced.
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