He would have to leap, just as he had thought.
He would have to try.
He braced his foot against the eardrum and shoved.
The light grew —
He soared toward his own finger —
And the golem exploded.
FIFTY-THREE
Arianna stepped into the tunnel of light. She had never been in a place like this before. It was warm and inviting and as familiar as an old shoe. And yet it felt strange.
She could still feel the remnants of her great-grandfather here. Almost hear him shouting as Sebastian dragged him along.
Sebastian.
He was still alive.
And he was planning something.
She had never seen him so mobile, so active. He had never spoken so clearly. Oh, she had missed him.
She had missed this place, even though she had never been here.
At least not consciously.
She could feel them both here, though, herself and Sebastian. It was as if this place had existed in her dreams and she was entering it now, awake. This was their bond, their heart connection. It radiated the affection they felt for each other. The affection they had shared since she was born.
Her memories were buried here, her first glimpse of Sebastian's face. His struggle to say her name. His hand, cool and hard and comforting as he held her.
And ahead, their great-grandfather — thinking?
Of escape.
She started down the tunnel. Behind her, she could feel her body Shift. Of course. She wasn't there to hold it in its lizard form any more. She wasn't there to guide it.
She turned, torn. Would it pick a real form or would it pick a variety of forms, like a child's?
Ahead, she could feel her great-grandfather's anger, and beneath it, Sebastian's desperation. He was thinking — of killing? — her great-grandfather.
Sebastian?
Who cried at the death of Fey who'd been trying to kill them?
Sebastian?
The Shift rocked the Link.
Her great-grandfather was afraid of not making it to his own body. So here was a danger in remaining unprotected.
She had to return to her own body, to guide the Shift, and then she could move forward, and help Sebastian. It wouldn't work if something happened to her first.
She started back through the light. She could feel a pressure building behind her. It felt familiar. The light grew brighter, and brighter. The hair on the back of her neck — her imaginary neck — stood up. She glanced over her shoulder and saw nothing but brightness.
Her great-grandfather wasn't panicked — he was too smart to panic — but he was worried. He was remaining calm, and trying to find a way out. A way out before —
Before —
Before Sebastian shattered.
No! she cried and started to run toward Sebastian, toward the brightness. It blinded her, and then she realized that she could take anything in here. She could survive anything because she had no physical body.
The brightness was crushing her. It was too intense.
It got closer and closer, holding her back, holding her in place. No matter how hard she tried, she could get no closer.
Sebastian! she shouted, hoping he could hear her.
The light was too hot, too bright, to contain. It was coming from Sebastian. She recognized it, and she remembered it. She remembered it seeping out of the cracks in his skin. Out of his eyes, out of his mouth, and she remembered what happened next.
He shattered.
No! she shouted again.
He was doing this for her. He was trying to get their greatgrandfather for her. Just as he had protected their father only a few short weeks before.
Sebastian!
But her cries kept coming back to her, as if the intense light were some kind of barrier. She pushed against it, and then it pushed back at her.
She shoved again —
— and the light grew as bright as sunlight on water, blinding, so white that she didn't believe anything could be whiter. And in the center of it, she saw Sebastian, his gray eyes closed, his face squinted, his fists clenched.
And then the light exploded around her, sending her back into herself with such force that she flew past her eyes, past the part of her brain where she had fought with her greatgrandfather, past the Links, past everything into a darkness so deep that it was the opposite of the light she had seen a moment before.
She was tumbling, head over heels, and she couldn't stop herself. It didn't matter that she had no physical body. Her mental one had been pushed by a force she had never encountered before. She kept tumbling backwards, into the growing darkness, until she slammed against a wall.
Pain radiated through her, and she saw Sebastian, faintly, eyes open, smiling, before the light vanished altogether.
Con knows, he said, and then his voice faded.
Con knows.
Con, she whispered, and lost herself to the darkness.
FIFTY-FOUR
The silence in the cave was overwhelming. Only the gurgle of the fountain made any sound at all. The light had grown brighter, even though it had to be dark outside.
Gift felt the step against his thighs. The marble was cool even though the cave was comfortable. The Cap was watching him. Leen was, too, her body stiff with fear.
Gift was waiting.
He kept expecting his mother to reappear. She couldn't leave him now. He needed her. Or he thought he did. He wanted her here when Coulter arrived. Together, he and Coulter could figure her out.
Together, he and Coulter could solve it.
"Has she come back?" the Cap asked.
Gift shook his head. He was shaky. He hadn't been this shaky in days. Not since he realized that everyone he had known, everyone he had grown up with, everyone he had loved, was dead.
"Maybe she wasn't real," Leen said. "Maybe she was a hallucination, and it finally ended."
"It was too responsive to be an hallucination."
"How do you know?" Leen asked. "Have you ever had one before?"
"No," Gift said. "But I've had Visions. And they weren't like this either."
Leen sighed. "I wish Coulter would get here."
"Me too," Gift said. "What do you think is keeping them?"
"Adrian had to get back from the quarry," the Cap said. He ran a hand over his face. "They were pretty suspicious of him. Maybe something happened."
Gift felt his heart lurch. He couldn't lose more friends. "Should we send someone down for him?"
"No," the Cap said. "We'll wait. That's what we said we'd do. That's what we should do."
"Coulter's down there alone," Leen said. "You could spare me. I don't want to be here anyway. I could wait with him."
But Gift didn't want her to go. He didn't want be alone with the Cap in this place.
He didn't want to be alone with the Cap at all. The Cap had threatened him two weeks ago. That had been terrifying. The Cap had held a knife to Gift's throat and tried to kill him. His explanation had seemed logical, too.
The Black King is here for his great-grandchildren. What'll he do when he gets them? He'll make them into him. Although Gift and his sister will be better than the Black King because they have more power. Only they don't know how to use it yet. I can solve this once and for all. I can kill this boy. And if I can get to the girl, I'll take away the Black King's reason for being here.
Gift frowned. The Cap had let him go, and then had saved Gift's life twice. By the time they got to the Eyes of Roca, the Cap had offered to teach Gift how to become as powerful as the Black King.
As if a Red Cap knew how.
I can solve this once and for all. I can kill this boy. And if I can get to the girl, I'll take away the Black King's reason for being here.
Gift wrapped his arms around his legs. "Scavenger," he said slowly, "can Fey send other Fey Visions?"
The Cap turned. "What do you mean?"
"I mean what I asked. Can Fey send other F
ey Visions?"
"The Mysteries do. Visions come from the Mysteries."
"No," Gift said. "I mean living Fey. Like my great-grandfather."
"Why?" Leen asked. She came closer, concern in her voice. "Did you just See something?"
"Of course not," the Cap snapped. "Does he look like a man who just had a Vision?"
Gift groaned with exasperation. "Scavenger?"
"No," the Cap said. "I don't think Fey can give each other Visions. I've never heard of it. But then, I don't know everything about Fey magick." He waved a hand. "And I know nothing about places like this. Islander Magick. Their religion must come from here. Why? Do you think your mother was some kind of sending?"
Gift scratched his neck. He didn't know what to think. "Maybe," he said. "Maybe the Black King sent her to make me trust her. Maybe she's not a Mystery at all. Maybe he sent her to make me calmer about him, to eventually make me accept him."
The Cap sat beside him and adopted the same position. Gift could feel the smaller Fey's body heat in the coolness of the cavern. "Maybe," the Cap said, "but that doesn't seem like the Black King's way."
"How would he know where we are?" Leen asked.
"And if he did," the Cap said, "why wouldn't he capture us?"
"Because you said it," Gift said. "You said he came to make me and my sister his heirs. He couldn't treat us badly in that case."
"He might," Leen said. "He might figure you have the same desire for power that he has."
The Cap rested his forehead on his knees. "It doesn't make sense," he said. "If the Black King were trying to coerce you to his point of view, or even to seduce you to it, and he knew where we were, why wouldn't he send a Doppelgänger who looked like someone you loved? Or why wouldn't he try to do the job himself? He's a crafty man, and a subtle one, but he's direct when he needs to be. And he often works alone. A man like him can't trust many people."
The Cap brought his head up as if he were thinking this through and had come to a realization.
"No," the Cap said. "The Black King wouldn't trust you with anyone. He'd want to convert you himself. You're of his blood. He doesn't know you. He'd assume that you'd be like him. That you could coerce smaller minds into following you."
Gift smiled in spite of himself. He'd never thought of himself in those terms. He'd never lived in those terms.
"I'm not a smaller mind," Leen said.
"To the Black King you are," the Cap said.
Gift sighed. He looked at the Cap. "You said that you'd kill me before you'd let the Black King get me. Did you mean that?"
The Cap looked at Gift sideways. The Cap's eyes were dark, unreadable, a bit wild. His mouth was turned sideways as if he were about to say something distasteful.
"I would hope," he said softly, "that you now have enough sense to kill yourself."
"By the Powers," Leen said. "Gift is strong enough. He could fight the Black King."
"Strong enough to fight decades of training? Decades of manipulation? I don't think so," the Cap said.
"So you would kill me," Gift said.
"If I thought you'd become his plaything, I would," the Cap said. "You know that about me. Why bring it up now?"
"Because," Gift said. "I was thinking of letting Leen go back to Coulter. I was thinking of being alone with you. I guess I'm still not willing to do that."
"It's not personal," the Cap said. "It has nothing to do with you. It has much more to do with your great-grandfather."
The Cap's words faded, even though Gift knew that the Cap was still speaking. The room tilted, and Gift felt oddly dizzy. He was in the palace again. He was floating above the floor, above ornate chairs like the ones that used to be in Sebastian's suite. Only the room was bigger. The doors to the balcony were closed. The main doors were closed.
His great-grandfather stood at Sebastian's left side, his hand on the side of Sebastian's head. Light poured out of Sebastian's body. Sebastian was smiling, and tears were running down his face.
"Ari," Sebastian whispered.
Then he looked up. With his right hand, he reached toward the ceiling. "It's all right," he said, and Gift thought he was speaking directly to him.
"No," Gift said. He'd seen this before. This very thing. And it was happening again. How could it be happening again?
The light filled the room. His great-grandfather fell backwards, crashing against the ornate chairs, shattering one. His great-grandfather's eyes were open —
— and blank.
The light grew so bright that Gift wanted to shield his eyes. It filled the room, made everything white. Sebastian seemed to be sucked inside of it, the cracks in his body growing wider and wider.
Gift reached toward him —
And Sebastian shattered.
Again.
FIFTY-FIVE
Nicholas was still crouched beside the lizard that was his daughter. He held a hand over her, longing to touch her, to help her in some way. The Shaman had to be wrong.
Arianna's Fey nature was strong — he knew it was strong — but it couldn't rule her. She had to have some of him.
She had to have some of his father.
Some of Alexander, the man who was so tender that he had trouble waging war.
But Nicholas knew deep down that Arianna would have no trouble. She was a fighter — he was a fighter, and Jewel had been as well. Their daughter had that trait from both of them, and it made her reckless. The Shaman said she had Seen a Vision of Black Blood against Black Blood.
Was the cause happening here, inside this small lizard?
Inside his daughter?
Suddenly the lizard's head whipped around and its tail swished. Its tongue darted out and its eyes rolled, then it Shifted. A hand grew out of its side, and a hoof off the other side. Its back arched, but its small head remained the same.
"Hey!" Nicholas cried.
The Shaman was beside him almost as quickly as he spoke.
The lizard's head kept turning, its tail flicking. He wished he could see its eyes better, not that it mattered. He wasn't sure he would see Arianna in them anyway.
The hand clenched. The hoof beat against the ground. The lizard's body convulsed.
Instantly he flashed back to those days of Arianna's babyhood where she had to have someone watch her at all times. She had gotten stuck in her Shifts so many times that he had been afraid she would die that way.
"What's happening?" he asked. "Do we help her?"
The tail shrank and absorbed into the body. The hoof grew out farther, followed by a bit of leg. Fey leg.
"Grab her," the Shaman said. "She's not controlling the Shift."
The fear he had felt earlier rose in him. He hadn't done this in years. He touched the lizard's cool skin, imagining his daughter, using his hands on the hand in front of him.
It was her hand. He recognized its long, slim fingers, its once well-manicured nails. They were dirty now, and a bit ragged, but still Arianna's.
"Come on, baby," he whispered. "Come on."
The Shaman was stroking Arianna's body. Pieces of other forms appeared: a feather, which the Shaman pushed until it disappeared behind a scale; cat whiskers, which the Shaman tugged slightly; a cracked bit of gray skin that reminded Nicholas of Sebastian, which the Shaman caressed until it disappeared.
Nicholas held the hand. The head kept whipping back and forth, the tongue appearing and disappearing. The hoof disappeared completely and a leg shot out. A girl's leg, long and slim and naked. It kicked and Nicholas held it too. He had forgotten this, this guiding of a Shift. He had no magick to help it move, but he could show the magick one — his daughter — which parts were right and which ones weren't.
"What's going on?" Nicholas whispered. "Do you think this is the Black King?"
"He can't use her magick," the Shaman said. She didn't sound panicked, but she did have a concern in her voice, a concern he didn't entirely understand.
"Then what is it?" Nicholas asked. A wrist appeared, followed
by a forearm, then an elbow, and finally a shoulder. From the shoulder to the leg, Arianna's torso appeared, but only on the left side. The right side remained tiny and lizard-shaped.
"She'll die if this continues," the Shaman said. "We'll worry about the cause later."
"Can you do anything?"
"Only what you can do," she said. "I can't use Arianna's magick any more than Rugad can."
"If she dies and he's with her — ?" Nicholas couldn't finish the question.
"He'll die too."
Just as they had talked about. Had his daughter heard? Was she trying to kill the Black King, sacrificing her own life in the process?
He felt hands on his, guiding them toward her shoulder and back, touching the half skin, half scales. Each place his fingers touched the scales turned to skin. The Shaman watched, then did the same thing, working her way up the neck.
The two of them, together, might make this work. He concentrated on his daughter, his tall Fey daughter. He wouldn't let her die. Not for any reason.
He suddenly felt hands on his left. Not the Shaman's hands, not his hands, not Arianna's hands. Someone else's. He glanced up, half expecting to see someone but not being surprised when he didn't. He had never had the sensation quite like this before, but he had felt others around him from time to time. He'd always thought it was because he had suffered so many losses so fast in his life: his father, his wife, and now, perhaps, his daughter.
The Shaman's hands had helped Arianna create a neck, but the head was too small. The lizard's eyes were bulging.
"It's as if she's not there," the Shaman said softly, almost to herself. And Nicholas understood. No Shifter would get herself in that position. Not an adult Shifter, not one who controlled her actions. If a Shifter got stuck between Shifts, with a neck the wrong size or a heart too small, she could die.
She could die.
"Come on, baby," he whispered. He wasn't going to get her through childhood just so that she would die here, in the middle of nowhere, with her whole life ahead of her.
The Resistance: The Fourth Book of the Fey (Fey Series) Page 34
