Slam! The third wyvern crashed into the pillar, just above Elodie’s head. With a scream of surprise, Elodie leaped aside. The doorway folded in on itself. Broken chunks of crystal showered down, creating a mountain of rubble between her and Vicerin. The huge impact shook the cavern from top to bottom, knocking half the surrounding army off their feet.
Vicerin tripped and went sprawling, his arms thrown wide. Gulph’s pack split down the middle, spilling the three crowns across the platform.
Vicerin’s fingers flew open. The Sandspear flew through the air and landed on the seat of the gold throne.
For a moment, all was still.
Ossilius twitched in Gulph’s arms. “You know . . . what he will choose,” the captain croaked. “Make sure . . . you get there . . . first.”
Gulph stared at Vicerin, poised on the far side of the platform. Their eyes locked. Between them stood the three thrones of Toronia.
Crowns. Jewels. Weapon.
Which would Vicerin go after?
All he’s ever wanted is power, Gulph thought.
That told him everything he needed to know.
“I will kill you all!” screamed Vicerin. Ignoring the crowns, ignoring the jewels, he lunged toward the Sandspear.
Gulph set off at the same instant.
As long as he’s got that weapon in his hands, nothing else matters to him, not even the prophecy.
Vicerin was six steps away from the Sandspear.
Gulph ran straight toward the first throne, leaping at the last moment and spinning through the air over its emerald back. He landed on his hands, bending his arms to cushion the impact, rolling and springing upright to continue his sprint.
Vicerin now had just four steps to go.
His breath burning in his throat, Gulph ran at the middle throne, the one made of ruby. He was about to jump again when he realized with horror that he was already too late. Acrobatics were all very well, but tumbling took up precious time.
What am I supposed to do? Run straight through the throne?
The thought came and went in a flash. Accompanying it was a sudden blast of hot air. Gulph’s whole body began to tingle, telling him what it wanted to do.
But invisibility won’t help me here!
There was no time to think. No time to doubt. He opened his body to the strange magic of his ancient desert roots. He felt the familiar liquid rush in his bones as he pushed his body into transparency, then cried out in astonishment as he realized he could . . .
. . . just keep pushing!
Running hard, ignoring the solid crystal bulk of the throne that was rearing up in his vision, Gulph allowed the desert heat to pump deeper than it had ever gone before. His body became light, like smoke, then thin like the air itself. He became invisible, then went beyond. He was there, and not there.
Gulph ran straight through the ruby throne as if it didn’t even exist.
Continuing his headlong rush toward the gold throne, he extended his invisible, intangible hand. For the briefest second, he made his fingers solid enough to grab the Sandspear as he flashed right through the middle of that final obstacle. Having snatched up the weapon, he skidded to a halt and spun to face Lord Vicerin, who was still two paces short of where his prize had been.
With a shudder, Gulph shook off the magic he’d allowed to envelop him. He wondered how he must look to Lord Vicerin—a sweat-soaked boy materializing from nowhere, right before his eyes.
“Give that to me!” Vicerin growled.
Gulph brandished the Sandspear and was pleased to see his enemy shrink back.
“The prophecy holds!” he proclaimed. “Get back, you cowardly, slimy thing! Do you hear me? You are nothing, and the prophecy holds!”
A sliver of crystal broke away from the cracked ceiling and tumbled through the air. The thorrods, who had been circling overhead, screeched warnings to the crowd below. The soldiers scattered just in time, leaving the sharp-edged fragment to crash down onto the foot of the steps.
Rainbow light poured through the hole in the ceiling, flooding the throne chamber with dazzling colors.
If victory looks like anything, thought Gulph in triumph, it looks exactly like this!
Gulph advanced, forcing Vicerin back against the gold throne. The light surrounded him, gave him strength. Vicerin cowered, his hands bunched against his chest, his face a mask of hatred.
“Kill me now, boy!” he spat. “You might as well!”
“That’s exactly what he isn’t going to do,” said Elodie, clambering over the piles of shattered crystal.
“She’s right,” agreed Tarlan, appearing at the top of the steps. “Though if I still had my sword, I’d be happy to run you through myself.”
“It’s what you deserve,” said Gulph. “But killing is no way for a king to start his reign. Or a queen.”
“We will show you the mercy you denied to others,” added Elodie.
“Mercy?” Vicerin looked suddenly hopeful.
“Behind bars,” said Tarlan. “For the rest of your life.”
“Prison?” Vicerin’s lips pulled back from his teeth. “For one of such noble birth as I? You cannot possibly—”
“Be quiet!” snapped Elodie. “Toronia has heard enough from you!”
“But I must—”
SILENCE!!!
The chamber trembled again. Vicerin flew backward against the throne, his eyes flown wide. The crowd gasped.
Gulph exchanged an awed glance with his brother and sister.
Did we say that out loud? he asked.
Or did we just think it? asked Elodie.
Whatever we did, put in Tarlan, it certainly shut him up.
A groan rose up from the other side of the platform.
“Ossilius!” Gulph half turned, then hesitated. He stared at Tarlan. “I have to go to him!”
“Go,” Tarlan replied. “We’ll keep an eye on this maggot. Elodie?”
Elodie nodded. As she did so, a regiment of ghosts surrounded Vicerin. Leading them were two women wearing matching expressions of disgust. The first was Lady Darrand. The second was Lady Vicerin.
At the sight of the two women he’d killed, Vicerin crumpled.
Gulph thrust the Sandspear into Tarlan’s hands and raced to where Ossilius lay. One of the ghosts followed him. They reached the wounded man at the same time and fell to their knees together before him.
The wound in Ossilius’s chest was terrible, and the pool of blood he lay in was deep. Yet his old, lined face looked peaceful. He smiled at Gulph. Then he glanced at the phantom figure kneeling beside him. His smile widened to one of surprise and joy . . . then collapsed into dismay.
“Fessan,” he croaked. He raised a trembling hand toward his son’s scarred face. “You’re here. But . . . but you’re . . .”
“I am here, Father,” Fessan replied. Gently he took his father’s shaking fingers. “That is all that matters.”
Ossilius’s eyes turned back to Gulph. “My son,” he said. “This is . . .”
“I know,” Gulph replied. His eyes had filled with tears.
“Both of you,” Ossilius whispered, reaching his other hand up to Gulph, who took it. “Both of you . . . here with me. My two sons . . . together . . .”
“Hush,” said Gulph. “Don’t try to speak.” He could barely speak himself.
A small hand came to rest on his shoulder. He knew without turning that it was Pip.
“I brought your mother,” his friend said. “I thought maybe . . .”
Now Kalia was kneeling beside them. She touched the palm of her hand to Ossilius’s brow.
“Is there anything you can do?” Gulph asked.
Kalia shook her head, and Gulph’s heart balled up in pain. “He is beyond my healing,” she said. “I am sorry.”
“No need . . . for sorrow,” Ossilius murmured. His eyelids fluttered. “My work is done. You have it, Gulph. The crown . . . of Toronia. You have it. And I . . .”
He grunted. His eyes closed, pinched
with pain. When they opened again, they were locked on Fessan.
“I have you,” he said, the words flowing from him in a single, soft gasp. “My son . . . will you take me . . . with you?”
Fessan nodded. He was beginning to fade away.
“I am ready, Father,” he said. “Let us go together.”
At the same moment Fessan disappeared, Ossilius’s face grew still. He looked happy. Gulph wished him happiness forever.
“I’m sorry,” said Tarlan.
Gulph looked up to see his brother standing over him. The dancing light pouring through the hole in the ceiling splashed colors across his red-gold hair. Tarlan draped his tattered black cloak over Gulph’s shoulders. Then he lifted Ossilius’s sword and placed it in Gulph’s lap.
Overcome with grief, Gulph broke down into helpless sobs.
Pip’s arms enfolded him, then Kalia’s. Gulph hunched over, filled with sorrow at the loss of the man who had befriended him in the dreadful prison known as the Vault of Heaven, what felt like so long ago.
Now it will be Vicerin who’s locked up.
The thought broke through his sadness with unexpected urgency.
Out of nowhere, dread grabbed him.
Something is wrong!
He leaped to his feet. Wiping away his tears, he saw Lord Vicerin still surrounded by ghosts. Elodie stood before him, but she was turning away, clearly about to make her way over to her brothers. Vicerin was folded up like a flower.
“What’s wrong?” said Tarlan, lifting the Sandspear.
“I don’t know,” Gulph replied. “I just suddenly thought . . .”
Vicerin brought his hands from beneath his cloak. In them he held a jeweled dagger. Even from this distance, Gulph could see it was a beautiful, ornate thing.
A deadly thing.
Taking the ghosts completely by surprise, Vicerin sprang to his feet. He raised the dagger. The tip of its blade was aimed at the center of Elodie’s back.
“Elodie!” screamed Tarlan.
“No!” yelled Gulph at the same instant.
Elodie’s eyes widened, but it was far too late for her to react. Already the blade was plunging down.
A streak of gold flashed down from above. A blur of wings enfolded the throne. A piercing squawk rang out through the chamber. A lethal beak snapped shut.
Theeta!
Lord Vicerin’s body tightened, then relaxed. The dagger fell from his hand. For a moment, he dangled from Theeta’s beak like a broken puppet. Then the beak opened, and he fell to the crystal floor, dead.
Theeta threw back her head and shrieked. At once, Nasheen and Kitheen flew down to join her, letting out harsh cries of triumph.
Shocked into silence, Gulph grabbed Tarlan’s hand and rushed across the platform to where Elodie was standing, dazed. They hugged her tight. Rainbow light bathed them. They sobbed, and laughed, and sobbed again.
At last they broke apart. Joining hands, they made a circle.
“It’s over,” said Gulph.
“Yes,” Elodie agreed. Like Gulph’s, her cheeks were flushed and wet with tears. “It’s all over at last.”
Tarlan grinned. “Not quite.”
CHAPTER 26
Tarlan stepped away from Gulph and Elodie. They seemed happy to wait in the silence that lingered after the death of Lord Vicerin, but he was ready for more. Not more fighting—Gulph was right, the war was over—but ready to take whatever action was needed to round off this long, strange day.
Is it day? he thought, gazing up through the ragged hole in the crystal ceiling. Or is it night?
The magical storm of light that had been hanging over the citadel was still raging, sending its shafts of color down into the throne room. What lay beyond it? The night sky? The midday sun? Tarlan had no idea.
Striding between the thrones, Tarlan bent and scooped up the three jewels from where they lay on the crystal floor. When he turned them over in his hands, their facets caught the rainbow light and turned it green.
He returned to the others in time to see Gulph handing the Sandspear to Kalia. Their mother cradled the weapon uncertainly.
“It’s right that it should pass to you,” Gulph reassured her. “It’s from Pharrah, like you. We know you’ll use it only for good.”
“I will,” Kalia replied. Reaching back over her head, she slipped the magical weapon through the strap of her robe, securing it on her back. “I swear it.”
Bowing, she crossed the platform to where the three crowns were lying. She picked them up, one at a time, then went to stand near the ghosts, who had retreated to a respectful distance. Many of them—Lady Darrand and Lady Vicerin especially—were regarding the body of Lord Vicerin with a hatred so intense that even Tarlan couldn’t miss it.
“The Realm of the Dead is too good for the likes of him,” said Tarlan.
“It’s where he’s headed all the same,” Gulph replied. Then his eyes widened. “Oh, but Ossilius and Fessan are there. What will Vicerin do to them when he . . . ?”
He broke off and gaped at Elodie. When Tarlan saw what she was doing, he gaped too.
Their sister was waving her hands slowly back and forth over Vicerin’s body. Her eyes were half-closed, and her lips were moving, although Tarlan couldn’t hear any words.
“What are you . . . ?” Gulph began.
“Wait, Gulph,” said Tarlan. “Look.”
A mist was rising from Vicerin’s battle-damaged armor. As they watched, it condensed into the shape of a man—Lord Vicerin’s ghost, floating an arm’s length above his corpse.
The ghost’s head swiveled to look first at Tarlan, then at Gulph, finally at Elodie. The ghost’s arms reached out to the girl Vicerin had once called daughter.
The ghost was pleading with her.
Elodie bunched her hands into fists, then jerked them apart.
Vicerin’s ghost disintegrated. Shreds of vapor flew apart like strands of rotted fabric, then vanished. Tarlan heard a long, soft sigh—and then silence fell.
“Is he . . . ?” Gulph began.
“Gone,” said Elodie. Her shoulders slumped.
“Where?” Tarlan asked.
“Nowhere,” Elodie replied. “He’s gone.”
“Well,” said Tarlan. “Good riddance.”
Elodie rubbed her palms slowly together, then dropped her hands to her side. “Yes. Good riddance.”
Tarlan remembered the jewels. “Here,” he said, holding them out.
Eagerly Gulph and Elodie each took the jewel that belonged to them. Tarlan supposed that most people would think they looked identical. But they weren’t, not quite.
Just like us, he thought.
“What are we supposed to do with them?” said Elodie, holding up the gold chain and letting her jewel swing to and fro in the rainbow light. “Do we just wear them?”
“I don’t think so.” Tarlan eyed the walls of the chamber, which were studded with jewels similar to theirs. “This place—it’s just like the Isle of Stars. Only there it wasn’t jewels—it was stones. Melchior told me to study them while I was waiting for him to get his magic back. He told me to remember what I saw.”
“And did you?” asked Gulph.
“Yes.” Tarlan tipped his head back and scanned the domed ceiling. “The stones looked like stars, and the patterns they made were the constellations.” He waved his hand. “The patterns here are just the same.”
“One jewel for each star,” Elodie went on. She looked up at the ceiling. “There must be a place for them here.”
“Three blank spaces, waiting to be filled,” said Gulph.
“There!” said Tarlan. He pointed straight up, to the patch of ceiling directly above their heads. In the center of a triangular diamond slab were three tiny holes.
“Theeta!” Tarlan shouted.
She flew out of the light, her wings beating in silent, majestic rhythm, her golden feathers seeming to glow from within. Tarlan bounded onto the emerald throne, then leaped from it onto the thorrod’s ba
ck. Throwing his jewel’s chain around his neck, he bunched his fists into her ruff and bared his teeth into the wind.
“Nasheen!” he cried. “Kitheen!”
The other two thorrods swooped down from where they’d been circling, gathered up Gulph and Elodie, and launched themselves after Theeta.
As they climbed, Tarlan glanced down at the huge crowd gathered in the chamber below them. There were thousands of them—men and women, ghosts and animals. All of them together had helped to bring him and his siblings to this place, and this time.
Am I really in charge of all these humans now? he thought in wonder. Oh, Mirith, if you could see me now.
Theeta veered past one of the twisting diamond columns and pumped her wings hard, climbing faster and faster. The ceiling rushed toward them as if they might crash into it, but Tarlan laughed, knowing Theeta was in complete control.
When she reached the hanging slab of diamond, Theeta slowed to a hover. The three holes gaped, a perfect triangle waiting to be filled.
Tarlan unclipped the jewel from its chain and held it up.
He had just enough time to wonder if it mattered which hole he used, when something tugged at his hand. The jewel popped free of his fingers, hung suspended for a moment, then rose upward. Locating itself in the nearest hole, it settled into place with the tiniest of clicks.
Green light bloomed inside the jewel, more dazzling than the sun.
Throwing his hand across his face, laughing aloud, Tarlan steered Theeta away from the slab, allowing Nasheen to slip into place behind them. He watched, awestruck, as Elodie repeated his actions.
When her jewel was in place, it began to glow brilliant red.
Finally it was Gulph’s turn. Standing upright on Kitheen’s back, he thrust his jewel toward the one remaining hole. It leaped from his hand and thudded into position. In the depths of the gem, golden light flared.
Tarlan pursed his lips and whistled. Nasheen and Kitheen responded instantly, falling into formation on either side of Theeta.
The trio of thorrods landed together, their golden feathers reflecting the colorful light still flooding through the hole in the ceiling. As the triplets dismounted, and the giant birds folded their wings, the light began to fade.
“Look!” gasped Elodie. “The jewels!”
A Kingdom Rises Page 28
