Chaos Queen--Fear the Stars (Chaos Queen 4)
Page 46
Alain would have thought that now would be the time his anxiety struck him hardest. That now he would have to begin counting, or stretching, or take a moment to excuse himself and just surrender everything he had no control over, like whether or not the Chaos Queen would kill him on the spot.
But instead, he simply met her eyes, those deep, dark pools, and holding Morayne’s hand tightly, said, “Hello, Winter. I think I might be able to help you.”
* * *
Kali, atop the Cliffs of Litori, held the small amber rihnemin tightly in both hands, the chill of winter creeping through her overcoat.
The fields at the base of the cliffs, almost pristinely white with snow save for a few lines of footprints, stood in stark contrast to the scene of violent horror on the clifftop. Humans, tiellans, Outsiders, and a single gargantuan beast all lay dead on the snowy grass. Blood, coagulated and frozen, coated the ground and the corpses alike. Hundreds of weapons and the dozen or so remaining siege engines littered the clifftop, the instruments of death scattered among death itself. The hundreds of other daemons who had poured forth toward Triah, sprinting down the cliffs, were nowhere to be seen, burnt into Oblivion by the mysterious burning light.
More than the horror behind her, and more than the emptiness immediately before her, two things drew Kali’s attention: the great scar marring the face of Triah, and the overwhelming presence she felt, both in the Void and through her voidstone, in the Odenite camp.
Kali had been hesitant to return to the Void, at first. Having just escaped, she’d been worried she might find herself unable to leave once more. But the inevitable call of the star-light-speckled blackness drew her back in, and there, as always, she saw Winter’s great burning dark.
After the Fall of the Eye, and knowing Winter was behind it, Kali could not bring herself to take the stone to her former student. Kali had watched the Eye fall from the Trinacrya at the center of the city along with hundreds of other Triahns, and she had never known such terror, such wanton destruction, in all her summers. She remembered, more than anything else, turning to see the faces around her, pale and slick with sweaty shock, all staring up at the Eye as it burned, eyes wide but still unable to take it all in.
If Winter got her hands on the rihnemin Kali now carried, what greater destruction could she cause?
Fortunately, Winter had been busy. Between the aftermath of the Eye, and whatever in Oblivion had happened atop this cliff, Winter had yet to contact Kali since she’d procured the rihnemin, and that was just as well.
But the respite would not last long, and Kali could not stand against Winter. She could still bring her the rihnemin, and save her own life, at least. And, after all, what was Kali if not one to follow orders?
Kosarin was the other option; he clearly wanted the rihnemin, though for what reason she could not fathom. A part of Kali relished the idea of holding that power over the Triadin’s head, but another part of her knew the man was just as dangerous as—perhaps the only person on the Sfaera who might be more dangerous than—the Chaos Queen herself.
With a deep, calming breath, Kali sat down on crossed legs, placing the rihnemin in her lap. The stone was a power piece in the ongoing warsquares match; for her next move, she would need to use it to her greatest advantage.
* * *
Knot knelt in his tent, unable to sit, unable to stand, unable to lie down or sleep. He knelt by her body, every trace of vampirism now gone, every hint that she had once been an incredible warrior, that she had once held a burning magic sword twice her own height, every hint that she had once been his friend, someone he cared about, gone.
A funeral was planned. A funeral had been planned by other people, not him. Truth was, he had no idea what she would’ve wanted done with her body. Truth was, he didn’t think she thought there’d be a body that remained when she died, especially if she died by exposure to sunlight. Truth was, he had no idea what the bloody truth was when it came to what had happened, to what she had done, to the pillar of white burning light she’d become and why she now lay before him, unmarked, unburnt, unbroken.
A cruel joke is what it seemed. Like she could still be alive, somehow, because her body was not destroyed or marred or burned into nothing.
But she was not alive. She was not alive.
She was not alive.
Every part of her was gone, and he could not bring himself to look at the face of the body that lay on the cot in his tent.
So, because it was the only thing to do, the only thing he could do, he knelt there, holding the girl’s lifeless hand, and cried.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
TO SAY THE PROCESS of writing these books has become like that of a well-oiled machine by now might be an overstatement, but efficiency and smoothness seem to increase with each volume. That’s been doubly true for the book you hold in your hands, and that’s in large part due to a very fine cadre of folks who continue to help me through the work.
Rachel, I could never thank you enough, but I’ll keep thanking you every time anyway in the hopes that I one day might come close. You believe in me, you encourage me, and I’m pretty sure sometimes you just tolerate me, and I’m grateful for it all. Your love, support, and counsel make these books possible. They also help me be a relatively sane writer and person, which is nice. (Also, I’m sorry about what happens in this book. Um… I’ll make it up to you?)
To my little ones, Buffy and Arya: You teach me every day about an infinite facet of love that I never knew existed. You inspire me. I thank God and the Universe and every power out there that could possibly listen every day for the two of you. I’m so grateful to be your father. Also, thank you for getting me into MLP.
Speaking of my littles, we have a huge list of folks who help take care of them, which means I actually have time to write these books, so a huge THANK YOU to you all. Maren, you get a specific shout-out this time around. You are awesome, we love you, and B loves you, so thank you so much for taking care of her! (She still wants to do a hot-chocolate date with you, by the way, so let’s make that happen.)
Thanks to Dave Butler for hosting the best writing retreat this side of the Laniakea Supercluster (I hear Ophiuchus has some pretty good ones, though), and touring around the country with me like a rockstar. Edward M. Kovel will forever live in our hearts.
Thanks to Accidental Erotica for being the best writing group ever—and Janci Patterson for her freakish brilliance and offering amazing feedback on this book.
A HUGE thank you to my editor, Sam Matthews, for helping me make this book the absolute best it could be— and thank you to the whole team at Titan Books, particularly Hayley, Craig, and Joanna, for making every aspect of the Chaos Queen Quintet so awesome.
Sam Morgan, my agent, is the best agent. If he isn’t your agent, I am sorry for you, because he’s amazing. Sam, imagine the rest of this note as an artfully drawn T-Rex thanking you on my behalf. Seriously, thank you.
Lastly, thank you to Chris Welton for letting me talk his ear off for hours at a time about the seed ideas that became some of the most dramatic points of this novel (and this entire series) while walking around Brindisi, Italy, about thirteen years ago. 10/10, would recommend. I love you, old man.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
CHRISTOPHER HUSBERG GREW UP in Eagle River, Alaska. He now lives in Utah, and spends his time writing, reading, hiking, and playing video games, but mostly hanging out with his wife, Rachel, and daughters, Buffy and Arya. He received an MFA in creative writing from Brigham Young University, and an honorary PhD in Buffy the Vampire Slayer from himself. The first novel in the Chaos Queen Quintet, Duskfall, was published in 2016 from Titan Books, followed by Dark Immolation, Blood Requiem, and Fear the Stars.
www.christopherhusberg.com
@usbergo
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