by Jon Sprunk
“He's dead?” His voice was wan and labored.
Josey nodded as a tear ran down the side of her nose. “Your trick worked. Blew him straight to hell.”
“Not a…” Hirsch coughed, and his entire body quaked. The grimace of agony on his face made Josey want to wail. “Not a trick. Good, clean magic.”
She laughed through the tears. “Don't talk. We'll find a physician and you'll be back to your old self again in no time at all.”
“Don't lie to me, lass.” The next cough almost lifted him off the ground. When it left him, he sighed. “Done a lot of things I regret. I earned the name Red-Hand…a thousand times over. Death is the least I deserve.”
“Don't say that.” She couldn't swallow. “You saved me. You saved us all.”
He looked at her with a crooked smile. “I'm glad I came to your palace that day. Maybe that makes up for some of the other. Maybe.”
A rush of emotions ripped through Josey as she watched his chest rise and fall. Rise and fall. Rise and…
She willed herself not to cry. She wanted to be home, back in Othir, with her sorrows behind, but the fighting continued. Her soldiers made a human barricade around her, but how long could that last? A patch of blue on the ground caught her eye. Josey reached over Hirsch and pulled a sheet of fabric from the dirt. It was her imperial standard, the golden griffon on a cerulean field, attached to a broken pole. Josey stood up, trying not to groan as her hip protested, and raised the banner. With her other hand she drew her stiletto and brandished it to the sky. Then she shouted at the top of her lungs.
“Nimea!”
She screamed it again, pouring out all of her sorrow and frustration. Some of her troops glanced over their shoulders, and then they surged forward as if buoyed by her cries. A tall man pushed through their lines, and Josey pointed her knife at him until she recognized his face. Brian looked like a gift from heaven, despite the covering of dirt and blood. He lifted his visor, and Josey smiled, more relieved than she had any right to be. Then he took up her rallying cry and rejoined the fight.
Josey couldn't see much beyond the circle of her defenders, but later she would hear accounts that the invaders had lost the will to fight after their commander fell by her hand. Or possibly his sorcery held some sway over them that evaporated with his demise. Her army, bolstered by the light cavalry and Keegan's fighters, pushed the Uthenorians back to the stream. Small groups of invaders peeled off and tried to ford the channel to safety, many of them drowning. Others tried to scale the hills, and most of them were cut down by crossbow fire. Before long these defections triggered a full rout.
And so the second battle for the Valley of Seven Arrows ended.
As the sun touched the tops of the western hills, Josey and Brian stood among the dead and dying and looked out over the incredible carnage. Flocks of ravens and other carrion birds covered the valley floor, taking their due as soldiers and camp followers separated the living from the dead. To the north, her cavalry was pursuing the surviving invaders. She couldn't believe it was over.
“Majesty.”
Josey turned to see a soldier holding Lightning's reins. It was her bodyguard with the missing ear, his head now wrapped in a crude dressing.
“I found him wandering a ways back. He's yours, isn't he?”
She nodded, unable to stop the tears this time. “Yes, he is. Thank you…”
“Prett, Your Majesty. Sergeant Nikodemus Prett.”
“Thank you, Sergeant Prett.”
Josey hugged the stallion's neck, wanting to burrow into his soft mane. She looked around for something to use to mount up, and Brian went to one knee beside her. Settling into the saddle, Josey turned Lightning south and let him carry her back toward the camp. Brian walked by her side.
They exchanged no words, only an occasional glance. The sky threatened rain.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
“You cannot fight the Shadow.”
The black eyes of the thing that inhabited Lord Malphas bore down on Caim. “We are everywhere. We see everything. We know your deepest fears. Submit or we will destroy you.”
Caim bent down to the floor, weighed down by the black tendrils and the awful truth of those words. He wasn't strong enough to win against this enemy. His knives were useless, and the shadows wouldn't hurt one of their own.
He has been corrupted by the Shadow.
Caim lifted his head as the words formed in his mind. The voice was soft and feminine, and after a moment he recognized its source. Mother?
Malphas has succumbed to the power of the Shadow, but he is not invulnerable, my son. You must seek the strength that dwells within.
Caim closed his eyes and shut out the pain. How could he kill the majordomo without his powers or his weapons? Then something glimmered in the darkness behind his eyelids. It glowed like a spark in his mind, growing brighter as he concentrated on it. He remembered the surge of energy Kit had given him with her kiss, and a soothing warmth suffused his chest, flowing outward to his limbs.
Caim shifted his arms under the coils. His first step was getting free. Focusing on the spark, he climbed to one knee, and then the other. The shadow tentacles constricted around his thighs and calves, making movement difficult, but he gathered his legs under him.
“You must submit,” Malphas hissed.
Caim strained with his arms, forcing them upward. The black tendrils squeezed tighter, digging deeper into his skin, but he didn't stop. He pushed back with his mind, and the coils stretched inch by painful inch. Malphas growled as the tentacles snapped apart. Caim gathered his strength and leapt, not for his weapons on the floor, but toward Malphas with his hands extended. He unleashed every iota of power he had left. The spark blazed like a tiny sun in his imagination. Caim squinted as shards of white light appeared in his hands. About the length of his forearm, they looked like nothing so much as knives carved from pure starlight. He plunged them both into the nobleman's chest.
Malphas's lips parted in a silent howl as oily smoke issued from the wounds. His hands clawed at Caim's back and shoulders. Caim held on and pushed to drive the blades of light deeper. The black of Malphas's eyes lightened to milky white as his throes lessened in their violence. Finally, without an utterance, Lord Malphas toppled over.
Caim let out a long breath. His hands shook as the shards of light vanished, leaving behind ghostly afterimages. He looked around for his grandfather's body, but all he found was an inky blot on the floor. The shadows had already covered Malphas's corpse, devouring it in the same fashion.
Caim bent down to pick up his weapons, and gasped as something lifted him off his feet and hurled him back.
He landed on his hands and knees, hunched over as every muscle in his body twitched, contracting and releasing too fast to control. His vision dimmed as a dark pulse sucked most of the light from the cavern and a grinding agony sliced through his chest.
Caim!
His mother's voice cut through the pain. Caim looked up, fearing Malphas had arisen anew to rejoin the fight, but the assault had come from the other side of the cavern. The gateway was twisting, its surface lapping at his mother as if it meant to consume the rest of her.
He stood up and took a wobbly step. The pain in his chest soared higher, but he kept advancing toward the gateway, step by step. The portal loomed incredibly huge before him, drawing his gaze into its impenetrable depths. There were shapes in the darkness, a row of tall spindly things that might have been leafless trees. They lined a pathway into a dim landscape. The longer he stared, the clearer the picture became. He saw wide plains dotted with black seas, and a distant horizon hedged with soaring mountains. Silver lightning flashed on their peaks. Caim shifted as whispers crooned in his ears.
The Lord of Shadow is dead. Take up his mantle and all will bow before you.
Caim put his hands to his temples, wanting to block out the voice. It wasn't his mother now. The Shadow could fulfill all his dreams. His mother? Returned to him with a word. The power to
control nations? In the palm of his hand. Infinity lapped before him, greater than anything he could imagine if he would just embrace…
Caim halted his hand inches from the gate's surface. Was this what it meant to be a son of the Shadow? The longing. The corruption. Blood for power and to hell with anyone else? He forced his hand back down to his side. He'd tasted that dish, and he had no appetite for it.
Caim stumbled back as another pulse exploded from the gateway. It hammered at him in a series of waves, each stronger than the last. He forced his eyes open. A pair of black eyes stared back at him. His mother had sunk deeper into the void. Only her face and one hand were visible. Caim fought through the pain to reach for her. A heavy rock fell from the ceiling and shattered less than ten paces from him. With a yell, Caim jumped across the final distance. His fingers closed around her wrist. Her skin was as cool as stone, but still pliable. He pulled, gently at first, but then with both hands when she didn't move. The muscles in his arms and shoulders bulged under his shredded jacket; his legs strained. Then he heard her.
Caim, you must help me. As long as the gateway stands open, this world is in danger from the Shadow.
He leaned back, still holding onto her. “How can I free you?”
You cannot, my son. I am too far gone.
Caim's chest ached like he'd been run through with a spear as he flailed through the vicious tide of his emotions.
You must let me go and seal the way behind me. Nothing else will stop the powers of the Other Side from entering.
“But I-Mother, I can't leave you. I refuse. There has to be another way!”
Caim, I chose my path a long time ago. For a while I was your mother, and those days were the happiest of my life. But I had a duty to this world.
Caim struggled with her words. The anger that had lain dormant inside him for so long flared up. “So you left me? I was just a child. Why didn't you bring me with you?”
You've seen Erebus, Caim. I knew what it would have made of you. By leaving you, I had a small hope that you would enjoy a life of freedom, the kind of freedom I never had. I'm so sorry. Even though I had to leave, I never stopped loving you.
Caim felt the rage drain out of him. All this time he'd been holding onto the belief that his mother had been forced to leave him. The truth was crueler, and yet it was the decision he would have made. “What must I do?”
An impulse flashed through his head, and he saw how the gateway was tearing her apart, piece by piece, down to her very essence. She was almost gone, and when she eventually succumbed the Shadow would flood through unfettered. Everything in this world would die.
Caim, if you love me and honor the sacrifice your father made, you will do this.
He closed his eyes and sought the spark inside him again. It was there, blazing bright. He reached for it…
And stumbled as a powerful force shoved him back, breaking his grip on his mother's arm. Even as he lunged for her hand, she sank beneath the rippling surface. The last thing he saw were her fingertips disappearing into the blackness.
Tears stung his eyes. Part of him wanted to dive in after her, but he had a task-a task no one else could do. Caim held out his hands and unleashed his powers. Crisscrossing lines of bright energy appeared across the face of the gateway. As he bent them to the pattern his mother had shown him, the darkness reached out and snarled around his arms and neck with a freezing touch. Caim leaned away as he strove to finish his labor. His injured toes pinched inside his boots as they dug for traction. Cold sweat formed on his face and under his shirt. He tried not to think about his mother, but memories from his childhood flashed through his mind. He saw her standing in the fields surrounding their home, her simple, homespun dress blowing in the breeze, long hair rustling. She was looking at the setting sun with one hand shading her eyes. She looked so peaceful.
Caim fought with all his remaining strength. Torment scalded his nerves as tissue stretched and separated, but he refused to give up. Then the last line was set in place, and the pattern blazed like a star with a thousand points. The gateway seethed, its ripples becoming choppy waves, but they remained confined by the matrix of lines.
Caim retreated until the cool rim of the urn dug into his back. The air of the cavern had turned dry and fetid. He found his weapons on the dusty floor. The gateway, churning and wriggling only moments ago, had become flat and docile. Its black edges were turning gray, the same color as the cavern walls, and he knew with certainty that his mother was gone. He had come all this way to find out what happened to her, and now he knew. She had sacrificed herself for him once. And now she'd done it again.
Caim, if you love me and honor the sacrifice your father made, you will do this.
The crash of shattering stone jarred Caim from his grief. The ceiling creaked as more rocks showered the cavern floor. He didn't know if he had enough strength to form a portal as he reached for his powers. The air rushed from his lungs as he found not a spark, but a gushing wellspring of energy. It wasn't exactly bright, but it wasn't completely of the Shadow either. It felt like a combination of both.
When the portal snapped open beside him, he thought of Kit and stumbled into the void.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Vibrations ran through the ground as Caim stepped onto the plateau outside the citadel. Over the great walls, the black pyramid trembled, and then disappeared in a thunderous collapse that shook the hills.
Caim turned with the black sword raised as a big shape shifted behind him, but he relaxed when he saw it was Malig, bloodied and bandaged, sitting on a low boulder. Kit lay at his feet, wrapped in a dingy fur cloak. Caim looked around as he went to her. There was a texture to the air, both familiar and elusive at the same time.
“Took your time,” Malig said.
Caim grunted. “You look like I feel.”
“Yeah, I ran into some trouble. Not even sure how I got here, to tell you the truth. Thought I'd lost your girlfriend, too, but I see she made it out all right.”
Caim nodded. Were any of them going to be all right, ever again?
“Anyways,” Malig said. “I figured you be along sooner or later. No sense in starting back home alone.”
Caim brushed a strand of silver hair out of Kit's eyes. She looked better, just tired. The bruising around her eyes had subsided. To have her, alive and human…it was more than he'd ever dreamt could be true. Yet something remained between them, and he had to deal with it if their relationship was going any further.
“I need a favor,” he said.
“Not another fucking quest, I hope.”
“Just keep watch over her until I get back.”
Malig shrugged. “Fine. Just don't take too long. I still don't like this place.”
That makes two of us.
Caim walked away before he changed his mind. He'd put this off long enough. He navigated a path down through the foothills. Once he was well away from Kit and Malig, he slipped into a gap between two tall boulders. Not sure how to bend his powers to what he wanted to do, he closed his eyes and listened to his breathing. It was steady, but his heartbeat thumped loud in his eardrums. He set the sword against a rock and he reached under his shirt. The golden pendant was warm as he slipped his fingers around it and jerked, snapping the cord. He held it up. The key turned slowly on its tether. The power coursed through him, strong and intoxicating. There was no pain as the portal opened before him. At least, not physical pain.
Caim stepped out onto soft carpet. The night wind whispered against heavy fabric. Outside, a horse whickered.
Instead of a grand hall lit with candles and oil lamps, he was inside a dark pavilion held up by two stout poles jammed in the ground. It was cold, too, despite the miniature cast-iron stove resting beside a large table.
Caim was beginning to think he'd come to the wrong place when he noticed the cot on the other side of the tent. The long, black hair on the pillow gave her away. Watching Josey, Caim realized he'd missed her. It seemed like he hadn't seen
her in years. So much had happened since Othir. I've changed.
He peered out the tent flap. Soldiers lounged around campfires in the field outside. Four men in heavy plate armor stood at attention just a few steps from the tent. Caim let the flap fall back and turned to the table, which was covered in maps and sheaves of papers. He scanned a report from Hubert about Mecantia. Something about succession. The tent, the maps, the army. She's changed, too. She is truly an empress now. How does Her Highness remember the hired killer who helped her secure the throne? As a hero, or a convenient accident?
Wood creaked as she sat up. For a moment she couldn't see him through the jumble of her hair, and Caim took that time to study the girl he'd rescued from a High Town mansion. She looked a little older, more mature, but that could have been the silk nightgown with pearls sewn into the collar. “Iola?”
Caim stepped into the firelight. “It's me.”
He wasn't sure what he had expected. Recriminations? Kisses? Hurling teacups? But there was only silence. Then she asked, “What are you doing here?”
“I, uh…” He sighed, not sure how to boil down the last few months into a simple explanation. “I wanted to see you.”
“You don't look so good,” she said.
“It must be true. Everybody says so.”
“Did you just arrive? I was about to ask how you got inside here without being announced.” She smiled. “But I remember how good you are at breaking into guarded places.”
“Where are we?”
“How couldn't you know wh-?”
“Never mind. Have you crossed into Eregoth yet?”
“No. Have you seen Keegan?”
“You've met Keegan? Hagan's son Keegan?”
She stood up, holding a blanket over her body. “Of course. He's the reason we won.”
“Won what?”
By the time she'd finished her tale of assassination attempts, battles, and the new alliance between Nimea and the “high captain” of Eregoth, Caim was speechless. He never would have suspected it. No, that's not true. I saw her greatness, that day at the cemetery in Othir. She was born to be empress. And Keegan had proved himself worthy again. While it was painful to know that death had come to so many in Eregoth, Keegan was the man to rebuild the war-ravaged country. He'd have to tell Malig.
