Redeem (The Mage Mirrors, The Fallen Queen, and The Forgotten Child) (A Fated Fantasy Quest Adventure Book 10)

by Humphrey Quinn

  "Duck," Ivan shouted, shooting off a series of spells over her head.

  Meghan dove to the stone floor, lying flat until the cold wisps of air vanished and Tanzea was forced higher up over them. Meghan bounded to her feet as Sebastien became human again, and he and Ivan set off a furious and relentless attack as two more sets of wings rose up over the side of the fortress.

  They were going to be quickly outnumbered. Their only gratitude in this moment—knowing Jae was not one of them. He was safe in some other world with Colby—safe being a relative hope really. But at least he wasn't here being forced to attack his friends. Or they, him.

  Meghan shot off a spray of flame, giving Sebastien and Ivan a three second break to reposition themselves and attack again. The flames licked at the Scratcher's jagged, toenailed feet, but didn't do any lasting damage.

  She spun to continue toward Juliska, who appeared almost out of place, dazed and frozen amongst the chaos—the blast came out of nowhere. A ricochet of magical energy erupting out of Colin. It slammed into Meghan and a gasp later her body flew right over the side of the fortress, into a fast, one-way trip to the raucous ocean below. The last thing she saw—Sebastien shouting her name mid-transformation as his body ran, then took flight, over the side after her.

  CHAPTER 26

  She might not be able to die, but she imagined this was going to hurt like hell. Until she saw that Nona had jumped too—her features in a determined pose and only one thought shouting in their collective thoughts: Fire!

  Meghan let her body ignite, the flames spewing upward. Nona dissolved into the flame, riding it right to Meghan—as soon as her paw touched flesh—SWOOSH! They were skidding across solid, ice and snow covered ground in a bad landing—but one much less damaging than expected. Sebastien landed next to her a second later, transforming as his feet landed with a thud.

  "I'm okay," she pushed out at him. But, holy, I almost just bit it, hard!

  She plunked her back onto the wintery ground below the fortress covering her eyes for a second. She gave her heart to the count of four to recover and swung her hand upward, where Sebastien grabbed hold and pulled her up. He searched her over to be certain she was uninjured.

  Another ricochet of magic blasted outward, taking some of the stone fortress with it. They scurried out of the way as the debris hit with the force Meghan had expected to, a moment ago. The dust and snow and ice settled and their gazes lifted upward—Ivan was still up there fighting.

  They were surrounded by a restless ocean. There was but one single path in and out of the fortress.

  Boom!

  Boom!

  Boom!

  Not on the fortress. Their gazes spun to the island—it sounded like a bunch of bombs just went off.

  Please don't let anyone die. The very idea almost keeled Meghan over. She knew so many of the people fighting out there—and if they managed to save Colin and bring him back from the brink, he'd never forgive himself if someone died because he'd lost control.

  "Watch out!" Sebastien pushed her out of the way of more falling debris.

  "We have to get back up there," Meghan drove out. "Nona!" The Catawitch brought the three of them safely back to the top of the fortress, where Fazendiin and Colin were having a sort of venomous dance. He aimed all his fury at the man he wanted dead, but the spells, the magic, didn't affect the Grosvenor. At all. Which only made Colin furious, and the forces of his blasts, stronger.

  Ivan met them with a grim shake of his head. The entire pavilion trembled under their feet. The fortress wasn't going to stand for much longer if they kept fighting up here. Or if Colin's magic kept getting stronger.

  The Scratchers were reorganizing overhead. The magical blasts impacted them as well—more so than they'd expected. Because Colin and Juliska shared the same blood, and therefore, the same ability to control or affect the beasts. The Scratchers hovered uneasily, uncertain of whether it was safe to dive.

  Meghan remembered her target—Juliska. She refused to give up on her idea yet. But when she turned to find the woman, she was nowhere to be seen. "Where'd she go?" The rooftop was a wreck of stone. Surely, she did not abandon her son?

  Ivan shouted and pointed. A woman's hand lifted over one of the downed stones and a moment later, Juliska clambered to her feet. She'd been knocked down in one of the blasts, had a trickle of blood streaming down the side of her face, but she wasn't dead. That was good—and not something Meghan ever thought she'd catch herself saying.

  Her feet propelled her toward the woman only to skid to a stop.

  Colin released a savage yell.

  "Why are you not dying!" he raged.

  Fazendiin's mouth turned up in satisfaction—he was winning this round. Easily.

  Colin breathed out his loathing raggedly.

  Why wasn't the Grosvenor dying? He needed him to suffer. And die.

  He released a continual pounding of magic, all direct hits, and yet nothing happened. Almost like the magic was washing over the Grosvenor rather than reaching him.

  It hit Colin like the entire fortress had fallen on his head, and he pushed out a laugh—not an, I'm amused sort of laugh. But an, I've been going about this all wrong, kind of laugh—a, you think you've won, but I just figured you out, kind of laugh. His cackles simpered into a reviling grin followed by a confident repose that did not bode well for any of them.

  Sebastien pulled Meghan back. Something terrible was about to go down.

  She rolled her eyes, like, really, a few more feet of distance is going to help.

  Ivan made his way to them. Each of them passing silent wary looks of failure.

  Colin's, I've already won facade, drilled into Fazendiin's, the two of them never breaking contact. The Grosvenor didn't look worried, only curious as to what the young man would try next.

  "You can't hurt me, Boy," he reveled proudly. "I've got your dead Projector's bones inside of me." Well, not really, seeing as Jasper was down on the island, fighting. But any Projector bones would do. And it had initially been in protection from his son, just in case the magic he'd stabbed into him backfired. But this would work just as well. The Grosvenor's hands ran up and down his frame, taunting Colin. "You—can't—touch—me."

  Colin said nothing. The reviling grin, flattening.

  "You're right. I can't touch you."

  Screams.

  Across the island.

  The battle itself, coming to an instant halt as if some other monstrous thing was replacing it.

  Meghan's heart stammered. Sebastien had to put his arm on her shoulder to keep her on her feet. Ivan was the only one who dared run across the rumbling pavilion to see what was happening. He turned and shook his head. He couldn't see. They could only hear.

  The screams were—brutal. Like the people down there were being torn apart from the inside out.

  But that was not Colin's plan. He wanted Fazendiin to experience loss, and defeat. To witness true power. To suffer the same anguish, he'd forced upon so many others. To fear—him.

  Colin grinned again.

  The screams stopped. Only to be replaced by a disquiet that instilled no hope.

  Colin scowled out a simpering cackle.

  "Much better. Now your army can't hide."

  Fazendiin flinched. His gaze flitting to the island and back to Colin.

  The sounds of battle started up again—a sick sort of relief behind the shouts and spells cast—they weren't all dead. But what had Colin done?

  They'd have to wait to find out.

  "I'm just getting started." Colin held the Grosvenor's strained gaze as his arm raised over his head, fist tightening. The three Scratchers who hovered over their heads began to writhe and screech in agony.

  Fazendiin rushed in a spin of panic—his Queen was amongst them.

  His involuntary movement was all the encouragement Colin needed.

  "One of them is important to you. That's a shame." The enjoyment in his taunt enraged the Grosvenor. He'd messed up by reacting
like he had. Such a stupid move. One he could not afford to make again.

  Two of the Scratchers squawked, went still, their bodies hovering high over their heads. Colin's gaze goaded the Grosvenor, held a need for him to understand his point—he was not in control any longer. His arm flung downward and the Scratchers plummeted toward the ocean. More like—Colin slammed them into the churning water where they instantly became nothing more than pulverized bits and pieces—otherwise known as, fish food.

  The third Scratcher—this one was special.

  Colin was planning something much more fun this time.

  He wanted Fazendiin to squirm. To beg. To get down on his knees and grovel…

  Colin forced the beast to land on the pavilion. It transformed and he growled at the woman—Tanzea Chase. He should have known. The Grosvenor's lackey. Her wicked hands had brought him into this world, only to assist in his mother's demise soon after.

  His hatred of this woman was only going to make this so much more fun. And that's exactly what the Grosvenor witnessed when he glared at Colin.

  And so very abruptly, the impossible, happened.

  Something no one could have predicted in a million years.

  CHAPTER 27

  "Don't…"

  The single worded request held both disdain at having to beg, and fire, that warned the repercussions of this action would hurt, everyone.

  Meghan wasn't sure what to think. Her brother was sinking down into scary depths, and his actions were in many ways, revolting. Not so much what he was doing, but the revelry he took from his actions. However, her brother had just accomplished the one thing she never believed possible—he'd made her father beg. He was afraid!

  But why beg for an old woman's life?

  "Show them who you are." Another surprise addition to the conversation—Juliska.

  "That's not going to happen," Fazendiin cautioned them through gritted teeth.

  What was he hiding? They all wanted to know now!

  Meghan wasn't going to wait around to find out. She shot off a stream of fire at the mothball woman, who with surprising agility, bounded to her feet and blocked the wall of fire. Sebastien and Ivan started in on her, pummeling her with spell after spell.

  Fazendiin didn't dare remove his sights from Colin. But it was there in his eyes—the creases deepening in his face—his jaw grinding hard—fear. He was truly afraid of what Colin might do.

  Tanzea took a few direct hits—nothing that would kill her, but it weakened her enough that she toppled over and—holy magic and mothballs! When she climbed to her feet, she was not an old woman any longer.

  "What the heck is this?" Ivan grilled. More like—who the heck is this?

  "Gavriella," Fazendiin ground out. "Leave. Now."

  "No." Colin's one word command.

  Tanzea—Gavriella—whoever the heck she was, attempted to transform, but failed. She tried to use magic to get away, but could not. Her ire aimed at Juliska, who shook her head. She wasn't making this order, it was her son—her blood. And she'd not stop it.

  Colin cared little for who Gavriella was, only that Fazendiin was afraid to lose her.

  Gavriella snarled and shot straight at the young man, her intention, to kill.

  Fazendiin shouted for her to stop.

  Colin snapped his fingers.

  Her neck twisted backwards with a crack, eyes bulging out at her stunned King. Whose mouth hung open in complete and utter disbelief as her body slumped downward in a hard freefall.

  His Queen—dead on the pavilion floor.

  This was not supposed to happen. This had not ever been a possible outcome.

  He'd protected himself from Colin's power, but not his Queen.

  He'd messed up. Made a mistake. The young man had bested him.

  His past and future Queen, dead. The mother of his new family, dead. His Vetala bloodline on the verge of disappearing.

  His mind sputtered incoherently. This wasn't supposed to happen. This had never once been foreseen as a possible outcome.

  Fazendiin's dead stare slid back to Colin—the boy was smiling.

  And the Grosvenor was going to slay that stupid grin—no—wait—slaying him would be too good for him. He needed some time locked in a prison—maybe a few hundred years would do the trick.

  Ivan and Sebastien watched in awe of it all.

  Meghan's thoughts rolled around in rampant disagreement with each other.

  One part in utter shock that her father had been bested. Knocked down a few pegs. Put off his game.

  One part totally confused, because as gone as her brother was, he wasn't actually doing any damage to anyone who didn't deserve it—at least she hoped that was the case with whatever he'd done to those fighting down below.

  And she was another part worried, and attempted to reach her brother's mind, because hurting only those who deserved it, didn't mean he'd come out of this unscathed. Or himself again.

  She had to remind herself it was only working in their favor because they hadn't gotten in Colin's way, and every ounce of his anger was aimed at her father.

  And another part of her couldn't help but wish the Immortality Stone was here. She could possibly end all of this, tonight. Or if she had the daring to leave, and let this all play out, she could go find the Stone, and destroy it.

  Her father was never going to be more distracted and taken off guard than he was at this moment. It was seriously something to behold. But it was also time to let it go and move forward. She eyed Sebastien and Ivan, who saw the conflict in her features.

  "If you need to go…"

  She shook her head. "I can't. I have to stop Colin." She left off the, if it's not too late part.

  Fazendiin flipped around, malevolent eyes locking in with his daughter's. She sucked down a hollow pocket of air that caught in her throat. Liked it better when he pretended I wasn't here. Had their luck finally run out?

  But rather than act on anything, she watched the doubt spread, the flicker of it burning brighter. She straightened herself, refusing to back down. Not now. She wanted him to feel that doubt. Emblazon it into his memory. To bathe in that fear—to make him desperate. Desperation created rash decisions and mistakes. It could also create a furious wrath that he'd aim at anyone, and everyone.

  Regardless, Meghan struggled to contain leaking out a bit of smug satisfaction, that the man in charge had been bested. Shown he wasn't as all powerful and in control as he believed himself to be.

  And the loathing he flung back at her only deepened her hatred of the man. There was absolutely no love lost here. On either side.

  He released his hold on Meghan's gaze, his fury landing on a new target.

  Juliska.

  She had done this.

  Somehow, this was her doing—because it left her as the only eligible female left from a Vetala bloodline. He needed Juliska alive now.

  In reality, she'd been in total awe of her son. And had held a momentary hope that he might just find a way to conquer Fazendiin. But the Projector's bones were too powerful a weapon.

  An enraged push of energy flew out of the Grosvenor aimed at Colin.

  He pushed one right back—the two pulses smashing into each other and fighting for dominance.

  "Nona," whispered Meghan. She peered down at her Catawitch in flattened defeat. "Be ready to go."

  Two strong hands grasped each of her arms. Sebastien on one side, Ivan the other. In part, to be ready for departure. In part, to prop her up, the defeat in her pose making their own legs falter.

  Colin had to exist inside himself, somewhere—but how did they reach him?

  "I've lost him." She hadn't meant to say it but it slipped out anyway. And there wasn't any arguing it, or pretending everything was going to be okay.

  Juliska blinked hard, gathering her strength, her mind made up. Her feet began to move of their own volition. Colin didn't need to disappear into darkness. Not like her. Not like she had.

  She could not destroy the Stone. O
r kill Fazendiin.

  But she could give her son a fighting chance. Possibly the only chance he had to come out of this dark place.

  Her body wielded its way toward her son.

  The trio held their breaths.

  Juliska's gaze met with theirs, only briefly.

  What they saw there, flayed them all. This was the Juliska of old. The woman who'd do anything to save her son. A woman with a single-minded mission.

  The entire rooftop shook under their feet, and they gasped.

  The magic between Colin and Fazendiin was duking it out and expanding. Pulsing harder. Each side in a dead-focused fight for the win. Colin, to prove he was superior, even if he could not touch the Grosvenor. And Fazendiin, driven with the need to defend his position of control.

  Colin's entire being changed. Taking on an almost feral quality—this was it. The point of no return. Meghan was sickeningly sure of it. If Juliska could not pull him out of this darkness, he'd be lost to it forever. The brother she'd loved and protected whenever possible would no longer exist. Replaced by powerful magic that would make him the new evil they'd all be fighting.

  Flames blazed in hot fiery lines all over Juliska's skin, but the stare she laid to Fazendiin was more frigid than the snow, ice, and bitter winter wind.

  A few feet away from Colin—her head twisted to the trio with a pointed request—distraction.

  Without hesitation, they raced forward. Sebastien and Ivan shot off a flurry of spells at the Grosvenor, while Meghan shot off flames trying to penetrate the magic pulsing between him and Colin.

  It weakened, but didn't give way until Juliska braved a direct path right into it. With a punch to her entire body, her own fire burned up the magic. Her hands planted firmly on her son's shoulders.

  Meghan aimed her fire directly at her father with reckless abandon. The Grosvenor attacked back with extreme ferocity—with one eye still pinned on Colin.

  Nope. Meghan needed her father focused on anything, but.

  "I thought you needed me alive," she goaded. "You can't make your new weapon without me." There was no playing the, hey, I'm your daughter, angle. So she'd go with the, hey, I'm your magical conduit, angle.