White Star

by Elizabeth Vaughan

  “Josiah is not yours.” Evelyn spoke from behind her.

  Orrin watched as Elanore regained her composure. She laughed a perfect laugh, artful in its perfection.

  “Such a gift you bring, my Orrin. A high priestess of the Gods of Palins.” Elanore turned, and walked over to where Evelyn lay in chains, glaring at her defiantly.

  Orrin yanked on his chains. “If you’re alive, why send odium against your own people? Why not summon me, and—”

  “You don’t look much like a priestess,” Elanore said, ignoring him. “More like a street urchin. But I can taste your power.” She reached out to brush her fingers over Evelyn’s hair. “I’ve been looking for you.”

  Evelyn jerked her head back. “Why?”

  “Portals.” Elanore turned back and smiled at Orrin. “I haven’t been able to learn that spell. Imagine being able to open a door to anywhere you’ve ever been. And you will teach me.”

  “No. We’ll stop you,” Evelyn said calmly. “The Gods will not allow—”

  “Gods.” Elanore laughed again. “Did your precious Gods stop me before? Did they stop my Lord Blackhart from delivering the people of Farentell to my mercies? I used them all to create my odium. Men, women”—Elanore looked back at Orrin—“children.”

  Evelyn was pale, her gaze on Orrin.

  “You filthy, lying bitch.” Orrin threw himself against his chains. “Never the children. Once we realized what you did down here, never once did we offer up a child. Evie, you have to believe—”

  EVELYN’S heart stopped beating.

  Elanore chuckled again, looking down at her. “Why should she believe you, when she has the evidence of her own eyes?” She gestured to the odium. Evelyn couldn’t help looking at the men, women, and children. Walking corpses, she reminded herself. Who could feel no pain, had no awareness . . .

  “It’s the truth.” Archer’s voice was little more than a croak. “The adults, yeah, we gave them to you. We thought them the enemy, Priestess. We needed the odium to protect our lands. But never the kids.”

  “He herded them for me”—Elanore glanced at Evelyn, no doubt to see the impact of her words—“like so many cattle. Down the tunnels to my workroom. Whole familes at a time, chained to the walls, crying out for mercy, watching as I drained the children first.” She watched Evelyn closely, like a cat.

  “You lie,” Evelyn said firmly. “The Lady of Laughter spoke to me, telling me to save Orrin Blackhart. She would turn her face from him if what you say is true.”

  Orrin’s face was a mask of disbelief. Then he slumped in his chains with obvious relief.

  “Pity.” Elanore turned away. “I was enjoying his pain.” She turned, her skirts sweeping the floor as she stepped toward the table where Reader lay.

  Evelyn took a breath once the stench retreated a bit. She watched Elanore move away, leaving a trail of something behind her on the floor. Evelyn’s eyes widened as she realized they were bits of dried flesh.

  “Odium,” Elanore said, “a source of great power. Far greater than a human army.” She ran a hand over Reader’s bare chest. The man gasped, as if in pain. “What need have I for human warriors? Odium have no need to eat or sleep. As I grow more powerful, I control more and more from this distance.” She looked at Orrin. “You will join them, Orrin. And you will obey. But let’s start with this one, shall we?”

  Elanore spread her hands wide and pressed them into Reader’s chest. She started to chant vile words in a soft, gentle tone, almost like a lullaby.

  And Reader started to scream.

  Evelyn cried out, and lowered her head to pray.

  Elanore’s chanting rose and fell in a soothing pattern, broken only by Reader’s outcries. Evelyn could hear him thrashing in his bonds, and the hoarse curses coming from Orrin and the others. Only the odium stood silent and unmoving.

  “Lady.” The whisper came from Mage, his head still in her lap.

  “Mage.” Evelyn lowered her head. “You’re bleeding. Stay still, and—”

  “You must listen.” His voice quavered. “The spell chains have a flaw.”

  Elanore’s voice was even, her chant continuing its pattern, unbroken by Reader’s screams. Evelyn darted a look in her direction, then lowered her head to Mage’s. “A flaw?”

  His eyes fluttered, and he drew a few short breaths before he answered. “Never got it right. They can take in only so much magic, and then they fall apart, Lady.”

  Evelyn struggled to understand. “What? How much—”

  “Depends on how old they are,” Mage said. His hands shifted slightly as he felt the metal of the cuffs of her manacles. “These have been around awhile. We might be able to burn through them.”

  She had a thousand questions, but she wasn’t going to waste any time. “How?”

  “Cast spells,” came the faint answer. “Pour your power into them, and the metal will crumble like dried bread.” Mage flicked a glance at the odium near them. “But pour too much of your power into them, and you risk death.” He struggled to sit up, leaning against her shoulder.

  Evelyn glanced around the room. “The odium will sense—”

  “She’s using magic,” Mage whispered.

  Evelyn bit her lip. Reader’s cries were whimpers now, as Elanore seemed almost to glow. “We have to try. Elanore’s made a mistake, Mage.”

  He blinked at her, puzzled.

  “The Lord of Light delivers justice to his people with a fair hand.” Evelyn shifted slightly, putting her hands over his manacles. “But the Lady of Laughter delivers vengeance.” She looked at Orrin just as he lifted his head. She saw so much in his eyes. Shame. Horror. Repentance. Love. Desperation for a chance to set things right.

  She’d call the magic and free him, even if it meant her own death.

  “You save your strength, Mage. I’ll deal with the chains. But you must promise me”—she grasped Mage’s manacles tight—“that you’ll end this if I can’t.”

  “I swear,” Mage said. “I’ve got an idea. Maybe I can use the draining spell against the odium. But you have to get me free.”

  Evelyn nodded and closed her eyes, trying to focus despite the suffering around her.

  ORRIN shouted a curse, trying to distract Elanore from her chanting. But the bitch kept chanting, her voice even and calm, as Reader writhed in pain beneath her hands.

  He risked a glance at Evelyn, sure that her eyes would be filled with disappointment, or hate for what he’d done. But she was sitting still, her eyes looking off in the distance, as if she were casting a spell.

  Mage was struggling to sit up. Evelyn was covering his manacles with her hands.

  Orrin’s stomach twisted. Mage had told her about the chains.

  He feared for her then, feared both she and Mage would burn themselves out. But it wasn’t like he had an alternative to offer. And anything was better than seeing her tortured.

  Sidian had pulled his chains so that one hand was higher than the other. He was rubbing his chest, still glistening with grease . . . and then rubbing his wrists. The manacles were tight enough that Orrin was certain he wouldn’t have much luck, but it was worth a try.

  Archer was stretching out his long legs, trying to shift the pile of weapons and gear, so he could get to Reader’s keys. His long foot was pale in the darkness as he strained; his face, even paler.

  Orrin turned his attention to his own chains, pulling, trying to find a weak link. He pushed back the despair and grief, and concentrated on finding a way to get free. It was all he could do, other than wait to die.

  No. There was one thing more. Something he hadn’t done since . . .

  Orrin gritted his teeth. Lady of Laughter—he aimed a thought deep within as he tested his chains—laugh all you want, but here I am begging. She claims you saved me for your own reasons. He glanced at Evelyn, sitting there dirty, dressed in black, her hair filled with soot. I’ll be damned if I know what they are, but I’ll take whatever chance I get to redeem myself. But save them, Lady
. I beg you. Please.

  He wasn’t sure if he said the last out loud, but the word seemed to echo in his heart. There were no flashes of light, no signs from above, but he really didn’t expect any.

  Still, it couldn’t hurt.

  Archer sucked in a breath and froze, staring at the floor, as if turned to stone. Orrin glanced down.

  Thomas’s eyes were open, staring up at him.

  TWENTY-NINE

  SHE called the fire, and the fire answered.

  She could feel the power within her, being pulled out of her by the manacles around her wrists. Every lesson she’d had as a child, every memory of her father working his spells—Evelyn used all of it, pulling from strength she didn’t know she had.

  It hurt, making her sick and dizzy, but still she focused, whispering the words, gathering her strength. She poured it all in, her rage and despair and fear, and used every bit of determination she possessed.

  Lady of Laughter, hear my plea. Make me thy instrument of vengeance, Lady, for all this woman has done and will do. Give me help, Lady. Give me strength, Lady. Give me power, Lady. This I pray. . . .

  The magic rose within her, and she channeled it through her fingers, guiding the power into the metal of their manacles.

  Mage shifted next to her, trying to ease his pain. He was hurt, they all were. She needed more, needed. . . .

  She opened her eyes and looked at Orrin. He stood bare-chested, barefoot, helpless before his enemies, blood dripping down his face. He pulled at his chains, trying so hard . . .

  She loved him, loved him more than she’d ever thought possible. Only the Gods knew if he’d ever return her love, ever let her express it, but she despaired of ever having the chance to show him how she felt. Never would she feel his skin against hers, never lie with him on a soft bed, wrapped in his strong arms, feel him move within her body, know the joy of pleasure at his touch.

  Her love fed the flames now.

  Lady, let him have this chance, let him work free of his guilt, let it be here and now, let me. . . . Lady of Laughter, please—

  Her fingers suddenly sank into the metal of the manacles. They crumbled away, leaving Evelyn and Mage both weak, gasping, and free.

  ORRIN watched as Thomas blinked and tried to focus on him.

  “Thomas,” Archer whispered, “Reader’s keys. They’re—”

  Thomas’s head moved slightly. Then his hand appeared from under his brother’s body and slid along the floor.

  “Just a little more,” Archer said.

  Orrin held his breath. Thomas’s glassy stare revealed he wasn’t long for this world. But his hand closed tightly around the end of the belt.

  Sidian had seen, and he rattled his chains to cover any noise. He was still trying to work the grease under his manacles, trying to pull his wrist through. He need not have bothered with the distraction. Elanore was still chanting, absorbed in Reader’s weak struggles.

  Thomas jerked the belt. The end with the keys hit the wall by Archer’s feet.

  None of the odium reacted.

  “Good lad,” Orrin whispered.

  Thomas’s lip curled ever so slightly. He sighed, and closed his eyes.

  Archer grabbed the ring with his toes, and lifted it to his hand in one swift move. Carefully, he tried the first key.

  Orrin held his breath. There were so many keys, how could—

  All the odium started to turn toward Evelyn.

  Orrin thrashed in his chains as the monsters moved in her direction. Archer cursed as he tried another key, and another. Sidian strained, and cried out as one hand slid free of its manacle.

  Mage scrambled up, shouting something. His hands seemed to glow with a sickly light. He lunged forward, dodged an odium’s clawlike hands, and touched its chest. Without so much as a whisper, the monster vanished in a puff of dust.

  “It worked!” Mage looked at his hands in astonishment. “I drained it!”

  “Mage,” Orrin cried out a warning. Evelyn jumped up, and yanked Mage back, out of the reach of another of the monsters.

  Mage stood in front of her, and started touching each creature as it got closer. The sickly light around his hands seemed to get brighter as odium were destroyed. Mage had a grin on his face, but it disappeared as Elanore screamed in rage.

  ELANORE’S scream was warning enough. Evelyn pulled Mage back to the floor, forcing his head down. She raised her hand, and swept a curtain of fire over both of them, holding it at a slight angle.

  Flames washed over them as Elanore cast her fire at Mage, without regard for the odium that stood between them. The monsters collapsed, blackened and crisped.

  Evelyn kept her face to the stone, drawing cool air into her lungs. She watched as Elanore prepared to attack again, and swept the fire over them once more as a shield to deflect the spell. “I can’t keep this up for long,” Evelyn said.

  Mage shivered next to her. “What’s she doing?”

  Elanore had stopped her casting. She stood there, her fists clenched at her sides, and faced the door, as if concentrating on—

  “The door,” Mage gasped. “She’s calling more.”

  “I’ll deal with her,” Evelyn said. “You deal with the odium. Can you—”

  A hoarse shout caught everyone’s attention.

  Orrin was free.

  “GOT it,” Archer said, as his manacles swung open.

  Orrin’s breath caught as the flames rolled over Evelyn and Mage. He forced himself to hold still as Archer worked to free him. He saw Elanore focus on the door, and knew what it meant. “More odium coming.”

  “Hells,” Archer muttered as he finished, and turned to Sidian.

  Orrin didn’t wait to hear the rest. With one step he swept his sword from the pile, and leaped the bodies of his friends. He strode toward the bitch, the stone floor cold under his feet. With each stride he gained speed, charging across the room toward Elanore.

  Sidian and Archer would see to the odium.

  He’d see the bitch dead.

  Elanore broke off her chanting and stepped away from the table. She faced him head-on; that perfect face smiled and laughed as he moved. She spread her arms wide, as if welcoming him as a lover.

  Orrin screamed a battle cry, and with a few more steps he plunged his blade into her chest, right through her heart. He ripped the blade free as he moved past, and spun, waiting to see her lifeless body collapse to the floor.

  Elanore had turned as well. She stood, arms still wide, and laughed.

  Orrin paused, his sword at the ready. But there was no wound in Elanore’s chest, no blood. To his horror, she stepped closer, reaching out as if to stroke his cheek.

  He stepped back, avoiding her hand. “How?”

  “Orrin,” Evelyn called out. She was struggling to stand, with Mage’s help. “She’s an odium.”

  Elanore laughed again, stepping back and letting her skirts swirl as she moved to put the table between herself and Orrin. She trailed her fingernails over Reader’s body. The man shuddered at her touch.

  “How is that possible?” Orrin had his sword up, circling to keep the table between them.

  “I felt myself dying, dearest Orrin,” Elanore said. “Felt my life ebbing away as that bitch of a Chosen watched.” Elanore lifted her hand to her throat, caressing it. “I couldn’t let that happen. I used the magic, the spells, to bind myself to my body.” She drew her hand down, stroking her breasts. “To make sure that I lived.”

  Sidian and Archer were at the great doors of the throne room, struggling to hold back a mass of odium. Orrin caught a glimpse of Mage limping up behind them, reaching over their shoulders, touching as many as he could. Mage was destroying them, but they were being overwhelmed.

  “You didn’t live,” Evelyn said, leaning against the wall with one hand. “She’s an abomination, Orrin.”

  “Oh, such a precious little priestess.” Elanore paused. “Destroying those chains cost you, didn’t it? The shields cost you even more. Poor thing.”

/>   “Not so weak I can’t ask the Lady to show him what you are,” Evelyn spat. She raised her hand and gestured. “See only the Truth, Orrin Blackhart.”

  Elanore gasped, and raised her hands, but she was too late. Orrin felt a tingle at the base of his skull, and he saw her as she truly was.

  THIRTY

  ORRIN jerked back.

  Elanore’s skin was gray; her face, half burned away. Dead eyes, unseeing and lifeless. That pale white throat was slashed so deeply that he could see bone. Her dress hung in tatters, her flesh stretched thin over bony fingers. The smell overcame him, the reek of rotting flesh.

  His horror must have shown on his face, for Elanore howled.

  “That’s why you locked away the mirrors and bowls,” Evelyn said, moving closer. “They’d show you the truth, wouldn’t they? Metal is not fooled by magic.”

  Orrin held his breath, and eased over, trying to protect Evelyn.

  Elanore howled again, and lifted her hands. “Die, die!” She threw long silver spikes of magic, aimed at his naked chest.

  They were met by a wave of flames, and melted away.

  Evelyn was beside him now, her hands before her, gesturing. He could hear her ragged breathing.

  Elanore’s monstrous face distorted in another scream. Again she threw the spikes of magic, and again Evelyn deflected them.

  Again, and again. Orrin stood, sword ready, but there was no chance to charge Elanore. He could almost see Evelyn weakening with each attack. He gripped his sword, waiting for a chance.

  Elanore stood before them, her disguise gone, laughing insanely as she threw her spells. But it seemed to Orrin that the spikes were smaller now, weaker.

  Evelyn caught his eye with a sideways glance, then took a step back. Orrin moved with her instinctively, uncertain what she was trying to do.

  Evelyn eased back again, as if retreating, and Elanore pressed her attack. Slowly they fell back, and Elanore stepped from behind the table and advanced on them.