by Kim Stokely
Behind me, Goram moans. “Yelling won’t help, Your Majesty. The Black Guards are blocking your thoughts.”
The Portal re-appears. “The bastard has been released. Keep your word.”
“Not until I know it’s Kyran. Let him speak to me.”
He thrusts his arm out toward the figure. “Can’t you recognize your betrothed?”
Something is wrong. The heat of the Chrysaline’s energy turns cold, like I’m being pelted with ice. In a moment of clarity, I channel my thoughts to look once more for the silver and gold threads binding me to Kyran. When the cord finally appears it leads, not to the man on the Plain, but somewhere farther back, buried within the demons and the Mystic army.
“That’s not him.”
“Fool!” Spittle flies from the Portal’s mouth. “Surrender now. Before Braedon unleashes the creatures of the Abyss.”
“Braedon,” my voice is amplified. “Come out and face me, you coward. Bring Kyran with you and you can have the Chrysaline.”
I see the exact moment it happens. The second Kyran’s heart stops beating. The cord that binds us together snaps apart. Untethered to him, it flutters into the air like a kite string caught on the wind.
“No!” My rage is hot and fast and out of control. I unleash it on the nameless Portal. He senses it a moment too late. His yellow eyes widen in terror. Before he can escape through a passage, I send a bolt of purple fire into him. It swallows him whole, leaving a smoking black pile of ash on the ground.
A cacophony of shrieks, snarls and howls rises from the Mystic army and they surge forward in a tidal wave. I cry out in fury and defiance and grief.
My soldiers take it as a call to fight. They charge forward to battle.
Geran grabs my shoulder and reaches for the orb. “Give me the Chrysaline!”
My gaze shoots to the scene in front of me. The two armies are only a hundred yards apart. Already, the smaller flying demons dive at our horses, making them rear up in terror.
“Alystrine! Give it to me.”
In my despair, I almost do it. I almost give my father control of the war. At the last second, I pull it back. Ruahk has asked me to do only one thing. Destroy the Chrysaline. But there is something I must do first.
The Chrysaline amplifies my voice over the sounds of the plain. “Stop!”
The cavalry rein in their horses as the smaller demons fall to the ground, pelted by spheres of light from my hand.
“Do not move forward until I return.” Drawing on the energy pulsing through my body, I create a shield of protection. The translucent purple light surges from me and surrounds my army. The demons claw, scratch and stab at it, but the light prevents them from reaching my men.
Once I know they are safe, I center my thoughts and find the passage to Kyran’s body.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Plain of Reckoning
He is tied, spread eagle, on an altar of stone, built on a mound of dirt. An Ovate stands next to the body, the sleeves of his gray robe soaked red with blood. He reaches down into Kyran’s chest. I push the air with my hand and the robed figure flies through the air, plummeting to the ground several yards away, almost hitting another robed figure.
Ovates stand in a large circle around the mound. At least twenty of them. Growls, shrieks and roars sound in the distance. Ignoring all of it, I run up to the altar, desperate to find a way to heal Kyran’s wound and save him. “Please, please, please, please . . .” My prayers and tears come out on one breath as I hold the Chrysaline over his mutilated body. “Bring him back. Bring him back. I know you can. Please.”
“He is dead, Alystrine. There is nothing you can do.”
Instead of words, I can only wail as I turn toward the voice. Caradoc stands at the base of the mound. He reaches toward me even as I point the Chrysaline at him. “Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you.”
Caradoc’s eyes reflect his sorrow. “This was Kyran’s choice.”
Letting out a stream of curse words I know he doesn’t understand, I run down to face him. “You are nothing but a coward and a liar and a traitor.”
“Please,” his voice breaks with emotion, I can’t tell if it’s sorrow or fear. “Listen to me. Kyran agreed to this. I swear it.”
“Stop lying!” I want to scratch his eyes out. Annihilate him with the Chrysaline. But don’t, for Kyran’s sake. “Just stop!”
“Kyran knew Braedon would never let him live. He made a deal. His life for yours.”
My knees start to buckle. I stumble back before regaining my balance. “What?”
He raises his hands in a sign of surrender while he stares at the glowing orb pointing at him. “Braedon used Kyran to bring you here so he could make you another offer. One that gives us all a future.”
“I will never accept anything your brother has to offer me.”
“Then Kyran will have died in vain.”
Grief steals my breath.
Caradoc lowers his arms. “Marry me, instead of Braedon. Instead of Kyran. Braedon will rule Ayden but will never marry. He will leave the throne to our children. Please, Alystrine. It is what Kyran wanted. What he gave his life for.”
For a moment, I believe him. Maybe this was the sacrifice Kyran had to make. Maybe this was Ruahk’s plan all along.
But then my thoughts clear, as if a haze of smoke lifts from my eyes. Kyran may have trusted Caradoc, but I never have. He may not be on Braedon’s side, but that doesn’t mean he was ever on mine.
“Do you accept Braedon’s offer?” Caradoc’s desire betrays him as he holds his hand out to me. Hunger burns behind his eyes. Like Braedon, Caradoc cares only for the power he can attain. “Please, Alystrine. Do you agree to marry me?”
All this was just a distraction. I’ve been played again. Allowed my emotions to dictate my actions. Forgive me.
You know what you must do
I take a deep breath. “I do.”
Caradoc blinks as if surprised, then smiles. “I’m glad.”
“You shouldn’t be.” With every ounce of strength left inside me, I hurl the Chrysaline against the stone altar.
It explodes in a burst of hot wind and burning light and excruciating sound. I find myself hurtling, weightless, through space. Watching earth and sky spin into one.
All the air leaves my body when my back hits the ground. My ears ring, like a thousand sirens going off at once. My brain struggles to comprehend what is happening above me.
The gray sky of Ayden is split in half to reveal a blue more vibrant than anything I’ve ever seen. A million times brighter than the sun reflecting off the ocean. I squint, trying to adjust to its brilliance. It flashes with light. From this opening stream massive fiery creatures. Not the gentle glowing Messengers that have guided and guarded me in the past. These are massive beings, thousands upon thousands of them, wielding swords of flames, descending to earth in fury.
My body is frozen. Paralyzed.
I pant in terror. Unable to do anything else as inhuman shrieks of agony rise in volume, even over the explosion still echoing in my ears. But whose cries? The demons of the Mystics or the army that has followed me onto this plain of reckoning?
I want to turn my head, to see who wins the battle, but I can’t.
Tears of frustration and fear run down my cheeks as I stare into the torn sky. “Please . . . . I don’t care what happens to me. But please . . . don’t take the men in my army . . . let them live . . . so they can tell everyone what you do for those who believe . . . please . . . my life for theirs.”
A harsh chuckle interrupts my prayer. Then a scraping noise. “How noble.”
It takes another moment before Braedon comes into view. For once, his black hair is disheveled. A swath of blood mars the polished shine of his breast plate. Unfortunately, it isn’t his. But the crimson river flowing down his arm is. It must hurt. He doesn’t seem able to lift his sword. Instead, he drags it through the dirt as he comes closer. His eyes are cold. Hard. Soulless.
Wha
t did it cost him to call up all those demons?
“I was promised a kingdom.” He wobbles a little before using the sword like a cane and finding his balance. “I have given everything to rule this land.”
My hand tingles. The first sign of life coming back into my body. I ball my fingers into a fist and keep my focus on Braedon.
He moans as he takes another step. “I needed only to bring you here. Subdue you. With you as my queen, it would have been mine.”
A burning sensation moves up my arm as my nerves reconnect to my brain. I grimace, but give no other proof to him that I can move.
He stares down at me. “It still can be.”
Hot, sharp agony radiates from my toes to my hips as more synapses come awake.
“Bind yourself to me now. We can both rule. Together.”
I shake my head.
“You would rather die like a dog in the dirt?” His cheeks redden with rage. Striking out with his foot, he kicks me in the ribs. “Your army may have beaten mine, but I will take your victory.”
My voice is strangled. “It’s not mine to win.”
He swings his weapon above his head, wincing with the effort.
For a second, neither of us moves.
Then, with a guttural shout of inhuman fury, Braedon arcs his sword toward me. Screaming in agonizing pain, I roll away. His blade slices through the air by my head, but leaves me untouched. I stretch my hand out toward him and yell, “Burn!”
He flinches back, waiting for my ring to sear his flesh, but nothing happens. His black eyes dance with mirth. “Ruahk has abandoned you.”
The stone no longer glows. Devoid of color, it looks like a harmless pearl. Destroying the Chrysaline must have broken my connection to Ruahk’s power. Help me, Ruahk. I beg you. I am ready to die, just not by Braedon’s hands.
His lips curl up in a sneer. “Who will save you now?”
Braedon lurches forward, using his sword for balance as he pulls me up by my hair with his other hand. We stand face to face. “What say you, Alystrine? Now that you know you are helpless? Will you take me as your king and live? Or do I let Geran find your violated and mutilated corpse?”
I spit in his face.
He backhands me across my cheek and I collapse to the ground just as I did in Tegan’s tent. The memory triggers another. Kyran strapping a dagger to my boot. Fintan demonstrating how to use it. I grasp hold of the hilt, forcing myself to stand as Braedon lifts his sword and attacks. The blade only nicks my chain mail as I stumble backward. He lurches to the right with the momentum of his swing. I spin in the opposite direction, pull back my arm and thrust my dagger into his side. My wrist throbs with the force needed to shove the blade through skin and muscle.
Braedon exhales loudly, eyes wide with surprise, and drops his sword. He tugs at the dagger several times, finally pulling it free with a primal groan.
On the ground, the blade of his sword suddenly flashes with golden light. Braedon pants through his nose, like a bull, then lunges toward me. I pick up the sword, ready to slice through his arm, but he collapses to his knees.
He is mine now. Mine to kill. I will have my revenge on him. For bringing me here. For killing Josh and Kyran. For all the evil he has ever done. The sword blazes again as I lift it for the strike.
Then I see it isn’t the sword that glows, but the reflection of a massive creature hurtling toward us from the sky. One of the soldiers of Ruahk. The being swoops down like a meteor, all golden flames and fire, and at least eight or nine feet tall. I blink, trying to discern details through the blinding light emanating from him. He wields a blazing broadsword, at least five feet in length as he stalks up behind Braedon.
Blood drips from Braedon’s lips. “You do not have the stomach to kill me.” He spits a wad of crimson phlegm at my feet. “You are too weak.”
I raise my weapon again, but the fiery soldier shakes his head. I can make out features now—a nose and mouth. Eyes. He looks at me and I know with certainty . . . he wants me to offer Braedon mercy.
“No.” The word seethes from my gut. “Don’t ask it of me.”
Again Ruahk’s soldier delivers his message to my soul.
My stomach roils. “He deserves to die for all he has done.”
Mercy is the greater power
The will of Ruahk, when I fully accept it, overcomes my anger. I turn my gaze to Braedon. “It’s not too late.”
His brows furrow. “For what?”
“You can live. If you’ll follow Ruahk.” My eyes look over his shoulder as the massive being lifts his broadsword. While flames of gold encompass him, his eyes turn cold and black. “It’s your last chance.”
“I will never bow to Ruahk. He is weak and—” The creature’s flaming broadsword pierces through his chest. A moment later both the fiery weapon and soldier disappear.
Braedon clutches his heart. His already pale face drains of any color. He stares beyond me, his brows furrowed in confusion. Then, as if he sees something indescribable, his eyes widen in awe. He thrusts his right arm out, his hand clutching at the air. His expression softens. A lone tear rolls down his cheek. A look of profound sorrow crosses his face as he drops his arm and lets out a sound. Something between “Oh” and a sigh.
A moment later, he falls facedown to the ground, his head barely missing my leg.
The sounds of the battle are not quite as loud as before. The cries are farther off . . . like someone is being pursued even as they flee.
Gathering my courage and what’s left of my strength, I try to walk. The effort winds me. I have to stop to catch my breath as the world sways, then crumple to my knees as it starts to spin. I must have a concussion, but in the big scheme of things, as much as every muscle in my body hurts, I’m grateful to be alive.
I decide crawling forward is my best option right now as balancing on two legs seems impossible. After only a few yards, I encounter my first severed arm. My stomach heaves, giving me a splitting headache as I turn away to vomit. I’m guessing it’s either Caradoc’s or one of the Ovates’. When I lift my head to try and get my bearings, I’m even more confused. The ground is covered with pieces of bodies and smoke.
The great tear in the sky is now a hole that appears to be getting smaller. Only a few of Ruahk’s soldiers fly through it, and they are going back in, not coming down. Although a smoky haze floats around me like morning ground mist, the sky of Ayden is clearing of its gray clouds. Sun beams shine through, falling to earth in glorious curtains of light.
I scan all around me, trying to find the mound where the altar stood, but it’s gone. The Chrysaline either blew it up or I was thrown so far through the air that I can’t see it anymore. I have no idea how much time has passed and no clue what direction I should go. The sun rose behind the Mystic Army this morning, but now it stands almost directly overhead.
Nothing moves around me except the smoke, rising up from smoldering pieces of charred flesh. With a groan, I get back onto my hands and knees. I’m queen, after all, I have to make an effort to find my army. After coming face-to-face with a myriad of severed, burned body parts, including a head, I decide to try and walk again.
It takes a few seconds for the dizziness to pass, but I force myself to move forward. A sound to my left catches my attention. Someone moaning. My first instinct is to ignore it since I’m on the Mystic side of things. My feet have other ideas and I find myself shuffling toward the noise. The murky haze clears enough that I can make out a figure a few yards ahead. It takes me a moment to realize his back is facing me and he’s not been decapitated, but is resting his head in his hands. Then he lets out a guttural cry of anguish I’ve only heard twice before in my life. Both times were from my own soul. Once when I found Josh dead. Then when I saw my mother dead.
The man keens again, only this time, I swear he says my name.
My heart stops when he sits up. I recognize the short, bristled hair. His dark skin. It can’t be him. He was dead. I saw him. His chest ripped open wide. A
knife in his heart.
“Kyran?” My voice is like a croaking frog from breathing all the smoke in the air.
The man shudders.
“Kyran?”
He spins around, eyes bright and wide. “Alystrine? How?”
I stumble forward, my knees collapsing just a few feet in front of him. We kneel, staring at each other, until he reaches out to gently brush my hair from my face.
“You are real,” he whispers. “Alive.”
I nod.
He yanks me into a fierce embrace that I return with almost the same force although my body shrieks with the effort. He starts kissing my hair and my forehead.
“I was dead,” he talks in between the kisses. “I was dead and yet I could see everything. I was above my body, watching the Ovate start to take out my heart.” He stops to kiss my cheek. “Then you appeared. You were yelling at Caradoc. And then . . . .” He kisses one side of my neck and then the other. “And then you destroyed the Chrysaline. And I saw it rip apart my brother . . . and the Ovates . . . and I didn’t see you anymore.” He cradles my face between his hands. “I thought it had killed you.”
“You were dead.” My fingers caress his head, his arms, the now-pristine skin of his chest. “You were dead. How are you alive again?”
“When the Chrysaline exploded, some of its light went through my body. The body that had been on the altar. It shielded it somehow. Healed it . . . like you were healed after the demon’s attack. When my body was whole again, I felt myself . . . drawn back into it. At first, I could not move . . . but then I woke. And all I saw was carnage.”
“You were dead.” I place my hand over his heart. My fingertips rub against a raised ridge of skin, puckered slightly under his sternum. The only proof that his chest had been ripped open. “You were dead.”
“And now I’m not.”
I feel as though I’ve fallen through ice. My body trembles. My mind fills with the images of death. The Portal I killed, Kyran’s body on the altar, Braedon pierced through with a flaming broadsword . . . the body parts I crawled through. “I need to get out of here.”
