Spellweaver

by Tamara Grantham

  “Remember,” I whispered.

  The glass rose into the air and then cracked. The shards broke away one by one in a spiraling torrent of glittering colors to mingle with the stars above us. Delicate silver roots shot into the ground until they formed a tree trunk. Leaves sprouted, growing into branches, weaving and bending in a gentle motion.

  Tears misted my eyes as I watched the beauty of nature and magic combine. Watching the tree grow, I barely heard the king cry out.

  “Fool!” Geth shouted. “Now you shall know my wrath!”

  In a swift motion, he sliced the knife across King Herrick’s throat, deep enough to sever not only his vital arteries, but tendons and spinal tissue as well. Blood pooled from the open gash. The king’s eyes met Kull’s, and then they glossed over, and he fell. As his body hit the ground, the king’s head rolled free from his body.

  “Father!” Kull screamed.

  My heart broke as Kull knelt over his father. Taking his father’s hand, Kull trembled. I knelt beside him. I could hardly look at the king. I knew he was dead, but my mind had a hard time accepting it.

  “Can you restore him?” Kull asked, his voice shaking.

  “I wish I could,” I whispered.

  “But if—if you used your magic?”

  I shook my head. “I’m sorry.”

  “Can’t you at least try?”

  “It wouldn’t do any good. It’s too late.”

  He fisted his hands. “Why?” he cried. “Why can’t you try?”

  “Kull—”

  His chest rose and fell. As he stood, all sanity drained from his eyes. Only vengeance remained. Bloodbane glinted with a reddish gleam as he turned to his father’s killer.

  He rushed at Geth so fast that his body blurred. The sickening sound of his sword impaling Geth’s midsection caught me off guard. He removed the sword, and with both hands gripping Bloodbane’s pommel, Kull swung the sword with deadly accuracy.

  Gore spilled from the man’s belly as Kull cleaved Geth in two. The Caxon leader only had time to make a small moan before collapsing. Kull hacked again and again. Without remorse. Without conscience. The iron-rich scent of blood pervaded the air. I tasted it on my tongue.

  I turned away.

  I couldn’t watch.

  Stumbling back, I felt the princess’s arms encircle me. I glanced up at her. The stoic features of her face revealed no emotion, yet I saw the storm in her eyes.

  After Kull had finished, he turned to us.

  In that moment, I no longer looked on the man I had known moments before. Covered in the blood of his father’s murderer, his eyes were no longer familiar to me. I looked at a stranger.

  “Kull,” I said, my voice weak and hoarse.

  His labored breathing made his chest rise and fall. Gripping his sword, the madness in his eyes made me shudder. His gaze was that of a killer.

  “Kull,” I repeated.

  Finally, he turned away. “I need to be alone,” he mumbled. “Leave me.”

  My heart broke, a tight feeling that made it difficult for me to breathe. I wanted to go to him and comfort him, but the sound of his voice made me reconsider.

  Kull stalked away with his sword trailing behind him, leaving the princess and me to watch over the corpse of his father.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  I watched as Heidel and the other Wults gathered around the king’s corpse. The magical tree bloomed not far from the gory scene. It seemed wrong that such violence was the first thing the newly grown tree had witnessed. Would Faythander’s magic suffer because of it? Would our world ever be the same?

  The magic was restored. I felt its newness inside me, filling me with peace and energy, edifying me, giving me hope. But something felt wrong—a nagging in the back of my mind. I couldn’t decide why I felt that way.

  Gasps came from the crowd surrounding the king. As they moved away, I saw what had caused the commotion.

  Geth’s corpse lay near the king’s, although it was no longer the corpse of the goblin leader. The bloodied remains belonged to Nehor, one of Geth’s men. I stared, confused.

  Why had the body transformed?

  Looking closer, I found two empty vials lying near the body. Transformation potions.

  One to transform as Firro. The other to appear as Geth.

  The Caxon’s leader was not dead.

  “Gods help us,” one of the Wults whispered beside me.

  If Geth wasn’t here, then where was he?

  We had to get back to the mainland. The crowd of elves and Wults had grown panicked as they realized the enormity of the situation.

  Geth wanted us out here, as far away from the mainland as possible. This journey to restore the magic had been nothing more than a diversion to distract us from his real purpose. He’d never meant for the magic to be gone forever. He’d counted on us to restore it. But, why?

  To make the elves suffer.

  He’d conned us.

  Princess Euralysia found me in the crowd. Her face revealed her panic. “We must return to Lauressa! Can you use your magic?”

  “To transport everyone?”

  “Yes. Our ship is destroyed, and to leave anyone here on this desolate isle means they will die. I will aid you with my own powers. Will it be enough?”

  I’d only used magic to travel once before. It had been to transport myself, and I’d almost killed myself doing it. “I don’t know.”

  “But you must try!”

  “And if I fail? We could all die.”

  My father appeared from the crowd. His skin was no longer the pallid shade I’d become accustomed to. The magic was restoring his health. “I will aid you as well,” he said.

  Several more elves gathered. “And we will help,” they chimed in.

  I looked at each face, at every person, at the fierce determination they all shared. Everyone knew this quest could have cost their lives, and they had been prepared to pay. We’d all known the danger when we’d set out. They, like me, would give anything to restore their home. And now, when it mattered most, I couldn’t deny them.

  But I couldn’t do it alone.

  “Princess,” I said, “I’ll do what I can, but we must all work together. Gather everyone under the tree. We will have to use its powers to aid us. Otherwise, the enchantment will never work.”

  We congregated under the tree, although I couldn’t find Kull in the crowd, which bothered me. We couldn’t leave him here, yet I knew he needed time to be alone. I had faith that he would return, though, so I turned my focus back to those gathered around me. I instructed the Wults and non-magic users to stand in the center, and the elves surrounded them.

  “We must all hold hands,” I instructed them. “The magical link cannot, under any circumstances, be broken. The magic will act as a current of electricity, traveling through each person.”

  I scanned the crowd as we all gathered, but where was Kull?

  I finally found him standing over his father. He lifted the body and severed head, then stalked toward us with heavy footsteps. His eyes didn’t meet mine as he stood in the crowd.

  My heart fell. I didn’t want to contemplate Kull’s attitude. If I did, I feared I would lose my control, and I couldn’t afford that right now.

  He would come to his senses soon enough. Wouldn’t he?

  My father and the princess stood to either side of me. With the tree’s branches swaying overhead, I closed my eyes and clasped hands with them, and they, in turn, clasped hands with the encircled group.

  Faythander magic swelled within me, giving me a sense of hope, of newness, and of familiarity. My magic mingled with the elves’ magic. The tree’s branches swayed gently, tinkling like tiny bells. My heart leapt in my chest as I felt the tree’s all-encompassing power combine with our own. Its magic stole my breath.

  The only thing left to do was to envision the elven city.

  If the high lord were in danger, I would travel to the central city. In my mind, I conjured the image of the elven h
all. I pictured the marble pillars, the dome with the sun-patterned ceiling, the tables arranged to appear like the rays of the sun

  I focused on every detail I could remember, and then I whispered the word that would take us there.

  “Enter.”

  My father squeezed my hand. His magic was so strong that I barely felt my body lose substance as we traveled the long distance from Verutith to Lauressa.

  The magic brightened beyond my closed eyelids. Spots of color faded in and out of my vision. Wind echoed as if from a great distance, as if we stood inside a bubble. I imagined the ocean passing below us, its white-capped waves blurring as we sped to the elven capitol.

  My hands tingled as the magic’s strength waned. Blood pooled away from my extremities and into my central organs. The farther we traveled from the tree, the less its magic aided our own. I stayed focused, though it took every ounce of my energy to do so.

  Almost there. Stay focused. Almost there.

  In my mind’s eye, I watched as we approached the mainland. We passed over Fan’twar’s chambers.

  My heart was filled with joy as I watched him sleeping peacefully on his dais. His strength wasn’t restored yet, but his magic had returned, and soon his health would follow. The ugly scar Geth had given him had faded, and shiny pink scales grew over the stump of his severed arm.

  We traveled away from the dragon caves and on to Lauressa.

  Storm clouds gathered over the city. Lightning illuminated the darkened sky. Flames engulfed some of the central buildings. My heart dropped at the sight.

  Were we too late?

  Focusing on the main gathering hall, I let my last stores of magic infuse with the others. A clammy sweat broke out over my skin. The bitter taste of bile felt sharp on my tongue as my empty stomach churned with nausea.

  Every inch we moved forward became more and more painful. I cried out but kept my eyes closed until I felt sure we’d made it safely. Finally, with my muscles on fire and pain searing through every nerve ending in my body, we landed on the floor of the elven hall.

  Gasping, I released my hands from the encircled group. My legs gave out, and I collapsed onto the cold marble tiles. The golden sun motif spiraled in my vision. My father knelt beside me.

  “Olive,” he said gently.

  I focused, letting my breathing bring me back. The pain relented a tiny bit. My father took my hand and helped me stand.

  As I took in my surroundings, I saw that we’d all arrived safely. It was a miracle that we’d made it. If we hadn’t been so close to the source of the tree’s pure magic, I knew a journey like that would have been impossible.

  Princess Euralysia’s hoarse scream came from the center dais. Jumping to my feet again, I elbowed my way through the crowd and stopped, stunned, when I found the dais.

  The high lord’s throne sat atop the raised platform, and the body of the high lord rested upon the chair. A goblin blade protruded from his chest.

  Geth stood over the high lord, his murderous eyes aflame with a sadistic, hate-filled satisfaction. Several of his men, armed with basita guns, stood around him. The corpses of dead elven guards were piled along the back wall.

  My heart fell.

  This was what Geth had wanted all along. The ultimate revenge on the elves—the death of their most beloved leader.

  Destroying the magic had only been a means to an end. The princess had been right—he’d never wanted the magic to stay dormant. He’d only needed it gone long enough to fulfill his purposes—the death of the king.

  But as I looked at Geth, I saw something in his face that I hadn’t noticed before. Surprise. I don’t think he’d expected us to ever return. Perhaps he’d hoped we would all die out on the lost isles, or be eaten by the dragons. For us to arrive now must have alarmed him.

  Princess Euralysia faced the Caxon’s leader. Magic sparkled around her, growing in intensity until I had to shield my eyes.

  “What have you done?” she screamed.

  Geth balled his fists, though I saw fear in his eyes. “Kill her,” he said to his men.

  They rushed her, but as soon they touched her magic, they exploded into ash. Their basita weapons fell with a clatter onto the floor. The smoky forms of their bodies got sucked into her magical aura.

  Geth’s eyes widened as she moved toward him.

  Out of the crowd, Heidel appeared. She unsheathed her goblin blade as she moved forward to stand in front of Geth, shielding him from the princess.

  “Stop!” she shouted. “Don’t harm him.”

  It was then that I noticed Kull move from the room’s shadows to face his sister. I’d never seen his eyes so dark, as if his soul had died along with his father.

  “Heidel,” he said, his voice quiet, though it seemed to boom around the room. The air grew quiet as Kull faced his sister.

  Heidel stood with her blade between them, a wedge that would forever divide. “I’m sorry, Brother,” she said with tears misting her eyes, “but… but I love him. I can’t let the princess kill him.”

  “You love him?”

  “I have sworn an oath to him that I cannot break. I have been aiding him from the beginning. It was me that entered the goblin’s fortress and planted the potion he gave to me.”

  “Heidel, why?”

  “Because I love him. More than you,” her voice trembled as she spoke. A sob escaped her throat as she attempted to stand tall, “and more than… more than father.” Her trembling hands released the blade as it fell with a clatter to the floor. Tears sparkled in her eyes. “Oh gods, what have I done? Kull, I never meant for it to end like this.”

  She stumbled, and Kull caught his sister under her arms. He helped her sit on the dais’s steps, and then he turned to face Geth.

  “You,” Kull said, “will pay dearly for your crimes.” He moved forward with his sword drawn, but as he did, the princess stepped in front of him.

  “Let me,” she said.

  “You, princess?” Geth said. “Will you kill me the way you slaughtered my people? Will you murder me here, in front of everyone, so they may know what your people have done to mine—?”

  “Silence!”

  Magic enveloped the goblin-man. The magic ripped at his skin, causing small cuts to form, until it completely engulfed him.

  “No!” His scream echoed, shaking the pillars as the magic engulfed him. His body, like the body of his followers, turned to dust and got sucked into the magic spiraling around the princess.

  The princess lifted her arms. Her eyes glowed bright white. Chills prickled my neck as I stared in horror at the enchantress. Her lips parted as she uttered a spell.

  “I, Protecterate Unum Gravidorum, fulfill my duty and call upon the powers vested in my holy title. Let it be known, far and wide, that every person carrying the name goblin on this planet shall die, and all shall die at this very moment of my utterance.”

  Thunder resounded, causing the room to shudder and the glass overhead to crack. A vortex of bright blue magic spiraled around her. With her upraised arms, the magic shot upward and out through the ceiling. As it did so, the wispy forms of the goblin men went with it. Their ghostly cries echoed in the thunderous rush of magic.

  Geth’s voice cried out the loudest. I almost felt sorry for him. From the beginning, his intentions had been to relieve the suffering of his people. But he had let his hatred for the elves cloud his vision, and his greed for revenge had ended in the destruction of every goblin soul on the face of the planet.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Two days later, we stood in the Wult fortress, Danegeld. I stood in the great hall, observing the Wult Mountains through towering windows. The view of the fog-wrapped peaks and brilliant foliage never ceased to inspire me. Mountains like these were written about in fairy tales.

  But today, a thin trail of smoke rose into the sky from a funeral pyre at the base of the foothills, marring the otherwise-perfect view.

  The funeral had been a somber affair. No one had been prepared
to bury their king. His death had been unexpected and premature, especially to those who had been closest to him. I don’t think it had affected anyone worse than Kull.

  He hadn’t spoken to me since his father’s passing. I’d seen him at the funeral, dressed in black and wearing his father’s crown that shouldn’t have been his for several more decades at least. His gaze never met mine.

  Now, he stood on the opposite end of the hall, away from me. I felt his presence like a looming, black cloud.

  I’d choked back tears all day and had gotten a tremendous headache because of it. I didn’t know how much longer I could hold it together.

  A flooded river beating at a fractured dam.

  Among the group assembled in the hall were Ket and Heidel. The two women spoke quietly in the corner. Ket’s braided hair shone in the sunlight streaming through the window. I knew she’d been close to the king, but it seemed as though she had kept her composure better than the rest of the group.

  Heidel, on the other hand, had dark circles under her eyes and strands of gray starting to show in her hair. Although I didn’t know the particulars, I’d heard rumors that her punishment for allying herself with Geth was to be exceedingly harsh—even by Wult standards. Exacting punishment on his sister had been Kull’s first act as interim king.

  As I held my father’s memory charm, the metal leaf warmed under my fingers. He’d returned it to me this morning as we’d waited for the funeral to begin. He’d said that he’d had a change of heart, and that he no longer needed the charm. He’d wanted me to have it, he’d said, to do with as I pleased, and he’d released its magic to me.

  I glanced across the room and found Kull still brooding in the shadows. He spoke quietly with Brodnik and Rolf. Our gazes met for a brief moment.

  Soon, his companions left him, and I felt now was my time to speak with him and make things right between us. I’d always been able to reason with him before. Heaven knew he’d brought me out of a dark place more than once. I supposed now was a good time to turn the tables.