“I thought the House exploded. Did anyone see the creature?” Aren asked as he and his brothers scrambled out the first floor of the Library and into the courtyard. There were two bodies, Guards, by the main House doors. Blood pooled on the stone floor, and magic burns scarred the columns nearby.
“I was just tagging along with Gryf. Thought I’d see if you had time for a beer,” Dane answered as they surveyed the damage, trying to determine which hallway to investigate first.
“Guild sent me,” Gryf explained when Aren looked at him.
A high-pitched scream came from the direction of the parlor, and Aren felt his heart lurch as he led the way towards the sound. As they ran, they could hear boots stomping off in a different direction. He wondered why the Guards weren’t marching towards the parlor as well, but then they heard the scream again.
“Careful, Aren!” Gryf called out.
Aren was several strides ahead of his brothers and arrived first. He burst into the room and began to scan it when a bright stream of red light came hurtling towards him. He felt a curse escape his lips as he was tackled to the floor, the sword falling out of his hand.
“Do I have to beat you to get you to stop being so damned predictable?” Gryf growled, keeping Aren’s head down.
“There!” Dane threw a knife at the dark shadow slinking around the room. The knife managed to nick what might have been a shoulder, resulting in a fine spray of black against the fireplace mantel. Dane reached for another knife.
The monster’s form began to take shape beneath the swirling, black smoke that outlined it. Yellow reptilian eyes shrouded in black tendrils swept the room. It was taller than Aren, and curved spikes rose out of its calves, points like daggers jutting out where elbows might be. A long tail trailed behind it, the point of it a vicious barb the width of two large hands.
Gryf let go of Aren and stood up, his eyes never leaving the wraith. They seemed to size each other up, waiting for the next move.
Aren lifted his head from the floor and caught movement in his periphery. He saw a servant girl, not much younger than himself, crouched behind one of the velvet chairs, hugging her knees close to her chest, trying her best to control her sobs. Shards of magic were embedded all over her face, her right shoulder, and her chest. A black ribbon was tangled in her brown hair. She had come here to hide when the Hunters gave the order to scatter. The girl caught Aren looking at her and gasped, her tears renewed. Aren brought a finger to his lips to silence her.
Gryf was pointing his sword towards the ground, waiting to see what the creature would do. He and Dane were the only ones between it and the door, and Aren wondered what was taking the Hunters and Guards so long to arrive.
Aren moved on his hands and knees towards the girl, keeping an eye on the monster. “That’s definitely the thing that attacked me the other night. It moves like smoke.”
“Wonderful,” Dane said as he and Gryf switched places.
Aren moved forward another few inches. “It can speak and understand Common, but prefers an old language I don’t know very well. No preference for right or left. It uses an unnatural blade.” The wraith screamed, turning towards him.
“It likes you,” Dane said.
When it opened its mouth to wail again, Gryf attacked, his sword moving so fast that it seemed to create a vortex in its wake. His blue steel met a lustrous blade of deep crimson that the wraith pulled out of the air. Metal crashed on metal, grinding as each fought for the upper hand. “Stay near the door! Don’t let it out if it gets past me!” Gryf ordered through gritted teeth.
Aren was mesmerized, locked on the fierce, feral eyes, searching for some clue, some hint as to what it might be. It looked bigger than when he had fought it in the alley, more developed. Gryf grunted and pushed, throwing the beast back. It stumbled and hissed, then dematerialized. Dane let out a curse, turning his head left and right, but the creature reappeared behind Gryf, stabbing at his side with the red blade.
Gryf dodged as if it were the next choreographed step in a well-rehearsed dance. “You’re just as predictable as my brother,” he said. He stepped into the beast and sent his blade into the creature’s thigh. Metal scraped against bone, but the monster vanished again, this time reappearing next to Dane. Dane held his sword up in a defensive stance, waiting for the strike, but the creature didn’t move. The room hummed with tension and the summoning of magic.
Aren scurried over to the frightened girl, who let him wrap his arms around her. She pressed her face against his chest, and he could only imagine how frightened she was. He knew her skin was on fire from the inside, yet she squeezed herself close to him despite it.
Guardians, the beast hissed in Common. Baby guardians at that. You’ve no idea the powers you trifle with.
“Guardians? What’s it talking about?” asked Dane.
The wraith chuckled low in its throat. Spidery veins of red light burned through the rich, dark-blue rugs beneath them and raced up the creature’s legs, through its center, and towards its spindly fingers, where the magic coalesced. Aren narrowed his eyes as the red light illuminated strange symbols below the smoke that concealed its flesh and bone.
“Your magic is limited,” Aren said, hoping to stall the beast, “and you don’t know how to find Lord Vir.” His mind began to run through the symbols. It wasn’t Ancient—possibly something older. He drew the signs in his head, traced them again and again until they were burned into his memory. He recalled the staff with the strange symbols that he and Selina had brought back to Tiede. “You used magic to enter the House, to bypass the crowds of people outside. You used magic to kill the Guards when you came in, to attack a defenseless girl, to attack us when we came through the door. You’re just now able to summon it again,” Aren said. “I’m willing to bet the Guards can’t find us because you’re clouding their senses with magic, throwing them off because you can’t fight all of us at once yet. Now you’re low on power. You weren’t meant to attack the House yet.”
Its eyes darkened and the air around it began to waver. The symbols began to pulse again, and Aren caught the scrollwork of a stylized leaf, its elaborate petiole curling and winding. He had seen the sign before, and he strained to remember where.
“Now!” Gryf commanded, lifting his sword.
Dane threw a knife. It plunged straight into the creature’s abdomen, and the monster screamed as an inky liquid spurted from the wound. The magic convulsed, then dimmed. Gryf brought his sword down in a diagonal cut from shoulder to waist, but all he caught was smoke and tail. The momentum of his blow caused him to strike the floor, but the tail fell with a thump before crumbling into bone and dust. The shadow slipped out of the room, leaving a trail of sticky fluid.
“Damn it!” Gryf growled. He and Dane rushed out the door, colliding with a handful of Guard who looked lost and confused. “That way,” Gryf ordered. “We’ll follow the trail towards the courtyard, surround it. Someone take the girl to the infirmary if it’s safe.”
Aren nodded at his brothers, who returned the gesture and rushed out of the room in pursuit of the beast. Aren picked up the bloodied girl and brought her to the one Guard who had stayed behind. “We’ll have a doctor take care of you, all right?” he whispered close to her ear. He started to place her in the Guard’s waiting arms, but she clung to him, unwilling to let go. “Look at me, sweetheart,” he spoke as if to a child. The girl—a young lady, really—turned her tear-soaked, bloodstained face towards him. Her breathing was shallow, her skin clammy, and her eyes struggled to focus. It would be a miracle if she survived this. A muscle in Aren’s cheek twitched, and he fought back the dread that threatened to consume him. He smiled for her. “You’re safe now, and as soon as this is over, I’ll come see you.” She hesitated, then gave him a slight nod. Aren placed her in the Guard’s arms, then kissed the top of her head. She blushed despite everything. “Travel away from the courtyard,” Aren said.
“Watch yourself,” the Guard said before leaving.
; Aren picked up his sword, then took a deep breath. He moved towards the door, ready to join his brothers, when a noise like the crackle of fire perked his ears up. He spun around to see what had caused it. The creature was standing in the center of the parlor, its entire being charged with burning magic. He couldn’t see the outline of its mouth, but there was no mistaking the gleeful look in its yellow eyes.
Aren took in the position of the rattled and tumbled furniture, the distances towards some kind of cover. Everything looked so shoddy and breakable when he imagined the firepower the creature was about to loose on him. Then, he saw the hilt of Dane’s knife, still stuck in its belly. He estimated trajectories and concentrated on the knife and the glowing symbols that sent light streaming through the creature’s smoky tendrils. It opened its mouth and emitted a high-pitched cry as it extended its arms and sent a barrage of magic towards him.
Aren dropped under the light, rolling towards the beast. Tiny flecks of magic nipped at his cheek, burning little tracks as they tore and settled. The massive energy coursed out the door, crashing into the wall of the hallway. The sound of destruction reverberated down the hall, filling the air with chalky debris. Aren sprang to his feet and reached for Dane’s knife, pulling it out of the monster in an upward arc, sending more black fluids spewing out. He shielded his face as the hot, inky substance made contact, burning his skin.
The wraith reached out and grabbed Aren by the throat with its massive claws, lifting him off the ground as if he were a weed in a garden. It screamed into his face, and Aren thought he’d die from the stench of its breath. He kicked out, clawing at the vice around his neck, struggling to get air in his lungs.
The creature met Aren’s eyes with a furious glare, then hissed in Ancient. You tricked me with the scent of magic on your spirit, but I’ll not be tricked again. You are not T’jand! It sniffed at Aren’s hair before continuing. I will drink your blood and drape your entrails around my shoulders. I will consume you from the inside out, suck the marrow from your bones.
Aren’s vision was getting dark around the edges, and he found it difficult to believe that this was how his life was going to end: as an intestinal necklace. At the very least, he thought he’d die with a sword in his hand.
The wraith convulsed and cried out, staggering backwards. Aren wanted to ask what was happening but found he had only enough energy to hang from the creature’s grip like a rag doll.
Not yet! the beast said as its body began to vanish. I want his power, his blood! Let me go!
Gryf and Dane rushed into the room, covered in stone and dust. Gryf charged at the beast, catching a slice of bone as it vanished and Aren dropped to the floor. Gryf uttered a curse.
“Mother’s going to wash out your mouth,” Aren rasped as he tried to catch his breath. Dane crouched on the floor next to him, helping him sit up.
“I didn’t count on him coming back here,” Gryf said. “That’s what I mean when I tell you to be unpredictable.”
NINE
Aren sat at his desk in the Library, flicking the paper stars he had scattered. His heart was heavy, his mind numb. His face was covered with little cuts that burned beneath the surface. Rieka was shocked to learn that he had been hurt, and she did her best to treat him while the doctors dealt with the more seriously injured. He looked worse than he was, and when Rieka removed the magic, he didn’t bleed out anywhere near as much as Gryf did. They said he was lucky.
Aren folded his arms on his desk, rested his head on them, and stared at the little stars as they blurred out of focus. His ears were filled with inhuman wailing, sobbing, stone and marble crashing, magic humming. He closed his eyes, and in the darkness of his mind, the memories were still so clear.
Are you really here to see me?
I told you I would.
You’ve always been so kind, my Lord.
Please call me Aren.
You’re so kind, my Lord. I’ve always loved you.
Aren fingered the black ribbon he had tied around his wrist when the loud, familiar click of the Library doors made him sit upright. He swiped at his eyes with the back of his hand, sniffling and clearing his throat. One heavy door creaked on its hinges, opened a little, then closed again. He gathered the stars on his desk, pushing them into a pile to return to the little box he kept in his drawer.
There were footsteps, unobtrusive and respectful of the silence. Then, her voice. “Aren?”
“At my desk.” He pushed the stars into the box and perched it on top of a leather-bound journal as Lake reached his side. He looked up at her, registering the blueness of her dress and her raven hair spilling over her shoulders, but was unable to rise to his feet or voice any pleasantries. He just stared up into her concerned face, tried to find some tranquility in her aqua eyes. She cupped his face in her soft hands, and he felt the tears rise again. He willed them not to spill and turned his gaze away from her.
Without a word, Lake stepped into him, pulling his head towards her body, cradling him as if he were a child running into his mother’s arms. His hands reached for her small waist, then his arms were wrapped around her, squeezing as if letting go would send him into an abyss. She stroked his hair and cooed soft phrases that felt like she had tugged them out of his very being. “My heart shatters,” she whispered, “and the pieces are as the stars in Alaric’s skies.”
“A piece to watch over you,” he said, hardly recognizing his own voice. “Another to light your way.”
“A handful more to tell a story of my love for you.”
“For time ever after,” he finished. After a beat, he asked, “Where have I heard that?”
She continued to stroke his hair, not trying to break free of his grasp. “I don’t know where you’ve heard it. I know it from the old songs passed down over time in the Kailen Islands. I heard it in a song so beautiful it was woven into my memory.” There was silence as he considered this. “Why has your heart broken?” she asked, her voice echoing the innocence of a child’s.
Aren remained quiet, contemplating songs that Dane would sing, revisiting books filled with old tales, wondering where those words had come from if not his bones. At last, he let go of her and stood up to offer his chair, clearing his throat and drying his eyes as he did so. He pulled Elder’s chair over and took a seat next to her. “I’m sorry about all this,” he said, rubbing his nails together, his eyes focused on the floor between them.
Lake reached over, lifted his chin with two fingers so that he would look at her. “I was so worried about you. Tiede’s streets are full of soldiers, and the people are frantic. There was rumor of an attack on the House, and when I arrived, the Guard told me what happened.”
“There are eight dead.”
She dropped her hands into her lap. “I am so sorry.”
“I knew them all. There was a girl—she was always so shy, never got my title right. She was in the wrong place, probably startled the monster. It attacked her, and I…” He paused, the noises filling his head again. “She was hurt and when I went to see her all she could do was smile and tell me how kind I was. I wanted to laugh. How was I kind to her? I never stopped to get to know her or thank her for everything she did for me every day. She was a familiar face. She was a little black ribbon scurrying around the halls. I couldn’t even tell you her name before this evening. I held her hand and I wanted to take the pain away, but I was so powerless and her skin was so cold. She said she loved me, and I felt the life leave her body.”
TEN
“What happened?” Mercer asked through clenched teeth. He watched as Catar paced the length of the parlor. Every now and then, Catar would stop at the large, stone fireplace, pick up the poker, and push at the dead logs.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Catar said at last, putting down the poker and moving towards the armchair, gripping the top of it. “If anyone sees you—”
“What happened?” Mercer repeated, unsure why he was asking. They both knew what had happened. Catar had lost control of the creatu
re, and it had attacked the House before it had been ready. The element of surprise was lost.
“There’s too much conflicting magic in Tiede because of the Wood. It loosened my hold on the creature,” Catar explained. “It hasn’t reached full maturity, but it’s eager to fulfill the spell that woke it. When it broke loose, it went off in search of its target.”
“Eager or not, it must wait for you to command it. It might be strong, but Vir has a powerful retinue of Hunters. We haven’t come this far only for the creature to fail because it couldn’t be controlled.”
“I repeated the rituals using the original sacrifice, since that was the blood that first woke it. I was able to pull the creature out of the House with the sacrificial magic, and I have it under control again,” Catar said. “It’s not pleased.”
Spittle flew from Mercer’s mouth as he shouted, “I don’t care if it’s pleased or not. Do whatever it takes to keep it under control.”
“It’s hungry and the sacrifices are barely enough anymore,” Catar said. “The spell will hold, but the magic required to sustain it without producing an istoq is draining.”
“We’ll perform more sacrifices,” Mercer said, leaning against the love seat. He had no problem killing every last person in Tiede, but would it be enough to keep the beast under their control? It had grown in stature and power, but what did that matter if it wouldn’t bend to their will?
Catar interrupted his thoughts, bolstering Mercer’s doubts. “We didn’t plan on the proximity of wild magic leaking from the Wood, didn’t plan on the House being as secure as it is, and we most certainly didn’t plan on the Apprentice.”
Mercer wanted to pull his hair out at the thought of Aren. “The girl said he’s not marked!”
Catar shot him an angry glare. “She must be mistaken. Why else would the creature be so conflicted?”
“I don’t know!” Mercer yelled, louder than he had intended.
Uniting the Heavens Page 28
