Obsidian Ridge

by Jess Lebow

  Lifting his arms as he had seen Quinn do, Jallal rose through the air, aided by the magic of the rubies. He brought his wicked-looking sword to bear, holding it out and turning himself into a human javelin as he flew toward the ceiling.

  “You and your brother were plotting to kill the king,” said Quinn. “You kidnapped the princess. Both of you deserved to die.”

  Quinn watched the man come, waiting for the right moment. When Jallal was almost upon him, he dodged hard to his left, losing his connection with one of the rubies and falling quickly to a spot just a few feet off the floor. Jallal’s outstretched blade missed Quinn by several feet, clanging loudly as it bit into the black stone of the ceiling, sending chips of obsidian showering toward the floor only to be caught up by the magic of the gemstones and suspended in midair.

  Now it was Quinn’s turn. Shifting deeper into the center of the triangle, he flew toward the ceiling and grabbed hold of Jallal’s feet. Burying the blades of his gauntlet into the man’s calf just above the hoof, Quinn yanked him sideways and then let go, tossing him out of the triangle.

  One by one the threads of energy slipped away from Jallal, until he wasn’t even connected to a single ruby. From high up in the air, he plummeted to the floor, no longer suspended by the humming, levitating magic of the floating gemstones. With a heavy thud, his body slammed to the ground; his head landing last, making a sound like a ripe melon falling from a farmer’s cart. His sword impacted tip first, burying itself in the stone floor beside him.

  “Your brother is dead,” said Quinn. “The princess is free, and the Elixir trade in Erlkazar is over.” The magic coursing through his skin filled him with confidence and energy. “You shall never beat me. I’ve won.” He did a back flip, thrilled by the heightened sense of victory and power he now felt.

  Far below, Jallal stirred. He was slow to move, holding his head in his hands. After a short while, he sat up and glared at Quinn. Then he moved to his knees.

  The fall was not a short one. Most men would have been killed by such an impact, their internal organs simply shattered from crashing into the ground. Jallal was not most men, but even his demon-enhanced body was severely damaged by such a drop.

  His sword, still vibrating from the fall, served as a cane, and Jallal lifted himself up off the floor with its aid. He coughed, spitting something into his hand. Then he pulled on the hilt, groaning from the exertion.

  The blade slipped free of the floor and lifted easily into the air. The strange sword seemed a natural extension of Jallal’s hands, balanced just right, no strain or fumbling. It just simply moved where he wanted it when he wanted it. Taking several steps back from the triangle, he held the blade waist high behind him, parallel to the floor as if it were his tail.

  He hobbled as he walked, clearly staggered from the fall. Then he stopped, closed his eyes, and took a warrior’s stance—poised to fly into battle.

  “We shall see how confident you are when you no longer have your little toys,” Jallal said.

  Opening his eyes, he took a deep breath and charged across the room. He ran on the tips of his hooves, the wounds from his fall not slowing him. His horns cast a heavy shadow on his head, and his sword glistened orange and red as it cut through the charged air.

  Then it impacted the first ruby, shattering it to dust with a single blow.

  A huge bang echoed through the chamber and bolts of energy shot out in every direction. Light filled the room, revealing the cracks and crevices on every wall. The threads hissed and popped, reaching out to every imperfection in the obsidian and trying to grab hold.

  On the floor, Jallal’s charge carried on. Tiny threads of magic mauled his shoulders, arms, and legs. The energy releasing from the ruby exploded from the ruined gemstone, covering his whole body in a dance of light. It stretched out behind him as he ran several more steps, long curving strands of magic trailing to catch up.

  His blade impacted the second ruby and bit deep, nearly cutting it in half. The top section of the gemstone teetered for a moment, then it toppled over, a million tiny cracks shooting out across its surface. By the time it hit the floor, the one single ruby had become countless smaller ones, and they rained down on the obsidian, bouncing and humming a melodic tune as they trickled to a rest.

  Hovering near the top of the triangle, Quinn dropped from the air, his weight no longer suspended by the magic of the rubies. Threads of energy popped and squirmed all around him, touching his skin then dissipating into the air. He felt his stomach lurch as he plummeted, then his feet hit the ground, and he jumped, trying to tumble away from the falling pile of shattered gemstones.

  Quinn spun twice then landed hard on his side, sliding across the slick floor and coming to a stop when he collided with the wall of the chamber. His back and hands were cut to shreds on the sharp edges of the ruined ruby scattered all over the floor. And his ribs ached from the impact with the wall.

  The final ruby, no longer attached to the other two, sputtered and shook. It wobbled in time with its low, vibrating hum. The tip and base moved in opposite directions, spinning in ever-widening circles.

  Quinn rolled onto his back, dazed from the fall. He opened his eyes to see Jallal looming over him.

  “Never beat you, eh, bodyguard?” Jallal was breathing quite hard, but a smile crossed his parched lips. The gums in between his teeth were bright red from the blood he had coughed up.

  He lifted his sword up over his head, in preparation of a killing blow. “Any last words?”

  Quinn’s eyes grew wide, then he pulled his arms over his face. “Behind you!”

  The final ruby had turned itself completely sideways. The oval-shaped gemstone swung quickly end to end, looking like a massive floating disk. Orange light flashed off the facets of the ruby, and it hurled itself from its perch.

  A heavy warbling sound filled the chamber, and Jallal spun around just as the gemstone hit him. The sharp, spinning man-sized ruby connected with his belly and carried on through. Jallal was cut into tiny little pieces as if he’d been hit repeatedly by a swinging guillotine. Chunks of flesh and tattered bits of bone were flung everywhere as the ruby impacted the wall, taking out a huge chunk of obsidian, and bounced back into the middle of the room.

  Shards of stone and bits of ruined flesh covered Quinn, but that was the least of his worries. As soon as the last ruby landed on the ground, the entire Obsidian Ridge lurched downward. Quinn was once again lifted into the air as the citadel fell out from under him.

  chapter thirty-eight

  Korox slapped aside an assassin with the flat of his blade and pressed in. He’d had enough killing for one day, and didn’t want to strike down any more of his countrymen if it could be helped.

  Breaking bones and bloodying noses, however, was still within bounds.

  With the pommel of his sword, he struck a half-orc between the neck and the shoulder, dropping him to his knees. With the palm of his other hand he smashed a half-elf in the jaw. The bone made a satisfying crunch as the assassin stumbled back, his face in his hands.

  From across the battlefield, Korox had seen the Matron cast the magic circle that held out Xeries’s beasts. He had watched the obsidian creatures turn away from her and come after his men, and he had wondered if her spell would keep him at bay as well. But whatever enchantment she had prayed for, it apparently didn’t work against kings or the warriors of Erlkazar.

  Seeing his target ahead, Korox grabbed another assassin by the back of his head and threw him aside like a child’s toy. His men had surrounded and taken most of the other assassins as he stepped up beside the Matron and grabbed her by the throat.

  “You are going to answer for this treachery,” he said, holding her in his powerful grip.

  She took hold of his hand, but didn’t struggle. Her touch felt somehow warm and familiar. She looked up at him, and he down on her, staring deep into her eyes.

  He recognized those eyes.

  Pulling the veil from her face, he felt the sting
of betrayal once more.

  “Divian.”

  “Yes, Korox.” The senator scowled at him, her eyes narrowing.

  “It was you.” The king put the pieces together. He thought back on the mysterious attack only a few nights before. Vasser had saved his life from an unseen assailant. “You were the one who tried to kill me in my own chambers. I thought you had been attacked, but it was you. You simply missed.”

  She gripped his hand in both of hers, but she did not try to pry herself free. It would have been a useless attempt even if she had. His long fingers wrapped almost completely around her neck.

  Korox shook his head, confused. “Why? Why you, Divian? Why would you do this?”

  “Because you are unpredictable and cowardly, Korox. You had to stick your nose into our business. You had to form the Magistrates and start an Elixir war.” Her eyes burned into him. “Did you think I just wanted to be near you? That I enjoyed your company?” She shook her head. “No, Korox. You had to be controlled and contained. And you played along so well. Pity it didn’t last.”

  Korox did not loosen his grip. “What sort of magic spells give you access to my trust? What did you do to me?”

  “No magic,” said Divian. “Just a well-placed disease and a favor from a friend. A man grieving over the loss of his wife can be very easy to manipulate.”

  Korox was struck numb, his hands trembling from the realization. “You sent the queen into that tomb to die. You … you knew. You had this planned.”

  “You should not have meddled, Korox. If you had just had the good sense to mind your own business—”

  A huge explosion interrupted the Matron. It knocked the king off balance, making him stutter-step to stay on his feet. His hand slipped, but he grabbed the front of Divian’s robe to make sure she stayed put.

  The blast pushed back the other soldiers, some falling over, others covering their heads. The dead leaves and grass rattled as if caught in a heavy wind.

  “We’ve won!” shouted a soldier, pointing at the docks.

  Over Shalane Lake, the Obsidian Ridge had blown its top. A plume of smoke rose from a newly formed crater. Massive blocks of black stone rained down on the docks and the crystal blue water. Orange light spilled from inside, clearly marking the cracks and holes in the outer surface.

  The entire thing lurched sideways, drawing gasps from assassins and soldiers alike. Then it dropped from the sky, crashing into the lake. The resulting splash sent a ring-shaped wave out in every direction. Air rushed from all the openings in the citadel, hissing and spitting out detritus, as the orange light was extinguished.

  “Mariko!” The king watched the Obsidian Ridge as it sank beneath the roiling surface of the water.

  When he turned back, Divian had disappeared, leaving only her robe in his hand.

  It had taken them some time, but Mariko and Evelyne had found their way to an open archway at the edge of the Obsidian Ridge. They looked down at the clear blue waters of Shalane Lake.

  “That’s a long way down,” said Evelyne. “You know how to swim?”

  Mariko nodded. “Yes.” It was the first thing she’d been able to say without the aid of the mimmio.

  Evelyne smiled. “Well then, what are we waiting for? Let’s get wet.” Grabbing hold of her nose, she leaped from the black stone ledge.

  Evelyne grew very small as she plummeted to the water. Then she disappeared in a tiny little splash, far, far below.

  Mariko waited until she saw Evelyne pop to the surface. Petting the mimmio on the head, she put it down and watched it scamper away down the passage. When it disappeared from sight, she stepped to the edge.

  The next thing she knew, she was falling—not toward the water, but through the hallway inside the Obsidian Ridge. A huge, rumbling explosion rocked the citadel, and the ground dropped away. Mariko tumbled backward. Above her she could see the sunlight coming through the opening where she had been standing. She could see the clouds and the bright blue sky.

  Then the citadel spun sideways, and she collided with the wall of the corridor, then the ceiling, then the second wall. The view through the open portal changed from open sky to clear blue water, and then the Obsidian Ridge crashed into Shalane Lake.

  Mariko was hurled back down the corridor toward the opening. She hit the oncoming gush of lake water rushing in from the opposite direction. One moment she was flying through the air, the next she was submerged, being dragged deeper into the Obsidian Ridge by a wild current.

  Slamming through corridors, Mariko nearly lost consciousness. With no air and no way to see, she was along for the ride, helplessly at the mercy of the rushing wave of water quickly filling the citadel. In those last moments, as she felt the need for air press against her chest and the panic of being carried off to die somewhere in the depths of this strange, awful place, her mind raced, looping over and over again on the same thought—

  I must save Quinn.

  Mariko closed her eyes, trying to calm herself and accept that she was not in control. She envisioned herself standing in the courtyard outside the palace, holding Quinn by the hand. She could see the cherry blossoms and the sun shining above her and—

  Mariko landed hard on her back, shot from the passageway into a much larger chamber, one that had yet to fill completely with water but was quickly flooding. Scrambling to her knees she took in great gulps of air, gasping for her life. Looking up, she realized where she was. The current had carried her back to the very center of the citadel—to Xeries’s throne room.

  As she caught her breath, the water rose over her elbows. Getting to her feet, she slogged toward the dais, but the room lurched again. The entire chamber tipped sideways. Mariko slipped off her feet and was thrown forward.

  Reaching out as she fell, the princess grabbed the back of the throne. Rushing water ran over her, dumping in from the passage that was now above her. It pounded her head, hands, and shoulders. She tried to duck behind the dais and the throne, using them to shield her from the rush, but the citadel was shaking violently.

  Struggling to keep her head above water, she shouted out the words to a spell as quickly as she could. Her fingers were growing weak, and she was losing her grip on the throne. Below her, the room was nearly full of water. It wouldn’t be long before she was submerged once more.

  She felt her fingers slip, and she fell back, her feet, legs, and waist dropping below the surface. Throwing her arms out to her side, she slapped at the water, kicking and pressing just long enough to get out the final syllable of her incantation.

  Then the roiling current sucked her below the surface.

  Tumbling, Mariko let herself be carried away. She tucked her body into a ball, covering her head with her arms as she drifted to the bottom of the filling chamber. The current shoved her down and down, until she was once again slammed up against the obsidian walls.

  The water at the bottom, though still moving, was much calmer, and Mariko allowed herself to unfurl. Everything around her was thick and wavy, blurred by gallons and gallons of water. She could see the surface, shiny and silver, high above, and she could see the movement of the water as it poured in from the passage beyond.

  She took a breath.

  It was an odd feeling, not at all natural, and she had to force herself. The cold liquid poured into her lungs. The first one made her cough and gag. Her throat scratched, and her chest felt heavy.

  Though her magic had given her the ability to breathe the water, it required a lot more effort than air—a lot more effort than she remembered. It took some getting used to, but she didn’t have the time to let herself adjust. Quinn was likely drowning at this very moment, and she had to get to him.

  Pushing off from the wall, Mariko swam toward the corner of the chamber and the passage Quinn had described to her. She could only hope he would still be there, still be alive when she arrived.

  Finding the crack in the floor exactly where it was supposed to be, she plunged in head first, descending through the dark stone
into the unknown. It was a long way down, longer she imagined now that the passage was flooded with water.

  The darkness went on and on, until finally it was broken by a weak, orange light. Pulling herself out of the crack into a much larger room, Mariko crawled through the water. She dived toward the light, and the oblong-shaped object it emanated from. Squinting, she tried to see through some of the blur.

  Everything in the room was piled into the corner, where the floor met the wall. Coming to rest on top of what now looked to be a giant ruby, Mariko started to dig through the rubble. This was where Quinn said he would be, so this was where she was going to search.

  She hadn’t gotten more than two stones removed when a heavy thump and crack shot through the room. Mariko could feel the shockwave shake her body as the citadel tipped over again. The pile of broken stones shifted, and Mariko was forced to dodge between the pieces of obsidian and the huge ruby now falling toward her through the water.

  They came slowly at first, but as the Obsidian Ridge shifted farther, they all came free, sliding down in a hail right for Mariko. She dodged as fast as she could, but the water made her movements sluggish, and she couldn’t get out of the way. The stones swept her up in their massive wave, carrying her along until they settled on the other side of the chamber.

  Debris covered Mariko entirely. The pile had simply turned over on itself as the empty volcano had settled to the bottom of Shalane Lake. Fortunately, the larger, heavier pieces of obsidian had simply slid along the wall. The smaller pieces that had washed over her had been cushioned by the water. The princess had been covered but not crushed by the slide.

  Pushing her way out of the stones, her hand brushed against something soft. It was odd, out of place, and clearly not the jagged edge of another obsidian chip. Grabbing hold of it, she pulled it out of the pile.

  A bright, white light hit her in the face, and her heart raced. What she’d touched was a hand—one with her personal rune inscribed in light right on its palm.