Blood of Stone_A Shattered Magic Novel

by Jayne Faith

  One blow flicked off my shoulder and caught my helmet over my ear. Pain blossomed bright and harsh. Sound faded on that side of my head. Spots swirled in my eyes.

  The hit just seemed to spur him on. Growling with rage, he swung ferociously. I was quicker, but his brute strength drove me back, step by step.

  I managed to smack his forearm with Aurora, but it was with the flat of the blade.

  Then he lunged and shoved his foot into my diaphragm. I flew backward, landing hard on my ass and skidding a few feet. Unable to tighten up to stop my momentum, the back of my head smacked the dirt. When my vison went gray, only his enraged howl warned me to roll out of the way.

  My sight returned just as he dove at me again. I curled to one side, barely avoiding the blow aimed at my head. Again, I rolled, but he was right on top of me. From my back, I wielded Aurora, barely fending off his punishing blows. He wasn’t saving any strength. He was trying to end it, but not because he was overpowering me. His wounds were gushing blood, and he was getting weaker.

  My mind sharpened, sensing his fading energy. I also realized Titania wasn’t going to stop the battle.

  He tried to fall onto me, presumably to hold me down so he could slit my throat. I scuttled backward, but not quite swiftly enough. He landed on one of my ankles, pinning it under his shin. I struggled, fending off his strikes with one hand while I tried to pull myself out from under his weight.

  He straightened, wound up like a batter at the plate, and swung at my sword arm. As he did it, I saw the rage boiling in his eyes. He was hurting, he was furious, and I was suddenly positive that he didn’t know how to channel pain the way I did. With his size and strength and his position in the Duergar military, he’d probably never had to.

  He’d never been an underdog.

  I raised my arm to protect my head. The crack of his blade against my forearm nearly made me pass out. I dropped Aurora as the nerves of my arm spasmed and screamed agony.

  I couldn’t look away to find my lost weapon, and I doubted I could command my spasming right hand to pick it up anyway. I reached back with my left hand and drew Mort. Magic flooded into my spellblade, lighting it in purple flames. I jabbed at Darion’s face, and he lurched to one side to avoid the magic as it licked out through the air at him, forming tiny blades that would slice his skin like razors.

  Finally free of his weight, I pulled my legs in. Just as he tried to lunge at me again, I rocked to my back, and then I sharply shoved my heel at the center of his face. His nose spurted blood, and his hand flew to the injury. I didn’t care how badass and tough you were, a blow to the nose was enough to distract anyone for at least a second or two.

  I tried to struggle to my feet, but my damaged ankle wouldn’t take any weight. My right arm, the one I fought with, was still numb from the elbow down. Worse than that, injuries, exhaustion, and blows to the head had stolen my balance. The world was tilting violently, and the edges were going black. If I managed to stand, I wouldn’t last long. I wouldn’t last long on the ground, either.

  I didn’t want the battle to end with a corpse. But Darion was fighting to kill, and Titania wasn’t going to call it. If the challenge was going to end in death, I sure as hell wasn’t going to let it be mine.

  I pushed up to one elbow, almost sitting. “Even one-handed and flat on my back, I’m bettering you,” I spat at him through clenched teeth. “What kind of champion loses to a woman half his size?”

  And then I laughed, a mocking, jeering laugh that carried to the crowd.

  His face screwed up, and the parts I could see through the openings of his faceplate began to turn purple. Then he launched himself at me.

  I watched him lift off the ground and then loom in the air over me for the briefest moment. I gripped Mort hard, the blade laying diagonally across my torso. At the last possible second, I threw up my injured arm to ward off the blow of Darion’s short sword, and I flicked Mort upright, aiming the tip of my broadsword at Darion’s throat and bracing the end of the hilt against the ground.

  The Duergar crashed on top of me, his sword scraping off my arm like a knife across concrete. Then there was a deafening scream. He rolled off me, his sword discarded and both hands on the side of his neck. By design, I’d missed by a few inches, not quite running Mort through the middle of his throat. Blood gushed from between his fingers. He writhed, his screams dissolving into wet, bubbling noises.

  My chest heaving, I watched in a daze as the blood streamed down his arm to drip in the dirt.

  I could have finished him off, but there was still a chance he could be saved if there was a powerful enough healer nearby. I had no desire for his death on my hands.

  I sheathed Mort and crawled over to Aurora. Then, with the legendary blade in my left hand, I forced myself to stand. My vision doubled and blurred, but I squinted and made out where the royal box was. I walked, holding back a scream each time I had to put weight on my broken ankle. With Darion’s agonized gurgles at my back, I limped over to stand before Titania and looked up at her, blinking as I tried to focus. She was the only one besides the champions in the ring who could end this battle. Either she called it, or I dragged my ass back over to Darion and killed him. He was still making drowning noises behind me.

  Finally, taking her sweet time, the Faerie Queen of the Summer Court stood.

  “The High Court declares the winner of this battle of champions.” Her voice carried through the silent stadium. She gestured at me with her open hand. “Petra Maguire of the Stone Order.”

  The New Gargoyle side of the arena erupted in a deafening tidal wave of noise.

  I shakily went down on one knee before the Faerie Queen, bowing my head. I even managed to stand up again, using Aurora for leverage. But that was all I had left.

  The last thing I remembered was Emmaline running toward me, a glimpse of Lochlyn beyond, standing up at her seat with tears running down her face, and my father vaulting out of the stands and racing after Emmaline.

  Then my knees buckled, and the world dissolved into darkness.

  Chapter 28

  AT ONE POINT I became aware of the sensation of movement and felt that I was being carried. My eyelids cracked open, and I could have sworn I was in Oliver’s arms. I wasn’t sure if I was dreaming.

  The next time I awoke, it was in a soft bed in a nearly dark room. There were quiet mechanical whirs. Warm humidity permeated the air, along with the damp-stone smell I associated with the mineral sauna.

  I lay there, blinking in the darkness as the details of the battle slowly crept back into my mind. Overhead, I saw a canopy suspended by four posts on the corners of the bed. I recognized the bedroom where I’d spend the night before the battle.

  With stiff movements, I pushed up to my elbows. I had to pee like nobody’s business. My ankle had been bound and splinted, and it hurt to walk on it, but it had already healed considerably.

  When I limped out of the on-suite bathroom, someone was standing in the bedroom.

  “Emmaline!” I barked. “Don’t be such a damn creeper!”

  She rushed to my side, pulling my arm across her shoulders. “You’re not supposed be up,” she said with a fretting tone. “They’re going to kill me for letting you walk around.”

  “It was that or piss the bed,” I said sourly.

  Since my blood was flowing and some of the fog of sleep had burned away, every fiber of my being hurt. The worst of it was centered on the left side of my lower back, where my rock armor had split under Darion’s blow. It was like a line of burning needles driven bone-deep.

  “Did he die?” I asked, letting her ease me back onto the bed.

  “No,” she said. “But he’s not going into battle anytime soon.”

  I let out a long breath as I settled back into the pillows and then winced at the pressure on my injury. I shifted to my side. Fatigue still sat heavy in my bones.

  “I should go let the others know you’re awake,” she said.

  I mumbled something uninte
lligible and then gratefully sank into sleep.

  The next time I woke, the curtains had been pulled back, and pale morning light glowed in the window. I moved under the covers, testing the pain of my injuries. I still felt like shit, but a little less so than before.

  The bedroom door pushed open a few inches, and Oliver’s face appeared.

  “I thought I heard you moving,” he said. He came in and sat on the edge of the bed, his eyes searching my face. “How are you feeling?”

  “Like I survived a plane crash.”

  His head bobbed. “Sounds about right. Want food?”

  Right then I realized my stomach felt as if it were trying to eat itself.

  “For the love of Oberon, yes. Bring me all the food.”

  He left and came back with a tray piled with sandwiches. Just as I dug in, another head poked through the doorway.

  “Okay if I come in?” Maxen asked.

  I flipped my fingers, beckoning him inside, but didn’t stop shoving food in my face.

  I swallowed. “Is King Periclase backing off now, or am I going to have to kick more Duergar ass?” I asked.

  He grinned and then inclined his head in a little bow. “The High Court dropped Periclase’s petition on you, and even better, Nicole was able to demonstrate rock armor this morning to prove she has New Garg blood.”

  I let out a relieved breath. “Periclase could still be her father, though.”

  “Yes, but anyone able to form rock armor has enough New Garg blood to swear to the Stone Order,” Maxen said. “It makes it possible for her to stay.”

  “What about the other stuff, Periclase trying to absorb the Stone Order into his kingdom?”

  “That is still an issue of debate,” he said. His expression sobered. “But no one knows where King Oberon is.”

  I glanced between Maxen and my father. “What do you mean?”

  “He’s gone. Oberon’s nowhere to be found in Faerie.”

  I frowned. “So, what, everything going through the High Court just stalls?”

  Maxen held up his palms. “Titania is apparently refusing to deal with it. She says it’s his mess and she’s not going to do his work for him.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Fricking Fae.”

  “That’s not your problem, in any case,” Maxen said. He drew a breath but didn’t say anything for a moment. Then he turned to Oliver. “Would you mind giving me a moment alone with Petra?”

  My brows shot up. Oliver looked a little taken aback, too, but he rose and left, closing the door behind him.

  Maxen took Oliver’s place on the edge of the bed. “The conflict with the Duergar isn’t going to go away just because Oberon’s decided to disappear. Marisol is going to be pushing harder to establish us as a kingdom, but it’s going to take even more work if Oberon isn’t here to make a ruling. After your victory, it would be very good for the Stone Order if you stayed here.”

  I frowned. “Why should my presence make any difference?”

  “We need to look as unified as possible as a people,” Maxen said. “Having our champion cut and run to the other side of the hedge as soon as the battle’s over doesn’t look very good.”

  A small flare of anger lit in my chest. I put my sandwich down. “Seriously, Maxen? After what I just did, you’re telling me I owe more?”

  “I know it seems unfair to ask, to pressure you like this, but this is life in Faerie. As a people, we have to give everything we have, or the New Gargoyles don’t stand a chance of establishing our independence.”

  My mouth worked, but I didn’t respond.

  “I know you’re out of money, Petra. And I know you’re on probation with the Guild,” Maxen said quietly. “Do you really have a choice?”

  I looked off to the side. That stung.

  “There’s always a choice,” I said, my voice hard. “And the thing is, even as champion, I’d have no freedom here. I’d have to quit hunting vamps. Do you understand how that would feel like a betrayal of my mother? And Marisol would tell me what to do and when to do it, and I’d have to obey her every order.”

  He lifted a shoulder and let it drop. “That’s Faerie. That’s the plight of our people. And here’s the thing, something that Oliver doesn’t even know yet. Marisol is going to start calling in New Gargs at the fall equinox, all the changelings and all the Order-sworn who live on the other side of the hedge. You’re going to be in the first group summoned. You can wait until then if you want to, but you will be called back to the fortress, and you’ll have to stay for as long as she wants you here. If you do it by choice before you’re forced, you’ll be rewarded for it. If not, you won’t be happy with the result.”

  “Or I refuse the call,” I said sullenly.

  “You wouldn’t.”

  He was right. Refusing such an order from my sovereign meant more or less giving up my magic and all my ties to Faerie. I’d be permanently exiled from this side of the hedge.

  My anger flared again, but I tamped it down, keeping tight control.

  I pierced him with a cold look. “You’re practically blackmailing me, you and your mother. Not only that, you’re doing it while I’m sitting here, unable to walk under my own power, with my wounds still fresh from the arena.”

  He blinked, his eyes tightening, but didn’t argue. He also didn’t apologize.

  “I can’t help the timing,” he said finally.

  “That’s all you have to say?”

  He stood slowly. I could tell he wasn’t happy, but I was all out of sympathy for Maxen and his mother.

  “Finish your business on the other side of the hedge,” he said. “Then come home.”

  He turned and left.

  I started to reach for my sandwich, but when I saw my own hands trembling with unspent anger, I curled my fingers into fists.

  In less than a month, Marisol would summon me here and take away my freedom for as long as she wanted to. She’d force me to quit hunting vamps. And really, there wasn’t a damn thing I could do. I’d have to figure out a way to ride it out. To get released from her call. But for the moment, I was too weak to do much of anything but lie there and feel pissed.

  I had other visitors into the day and evening, but their congratulations were tainted by my exchange with Maxen.

  As the evening gave way to night, I was surprised to see Nicole come through the door.

  After asking about my injuries, we fell into awkward silence.

  “Someone said you’re going to be leaving?” she asked after a moment.

  “I live on the other side of the hedge,” I said. “I’d planned to return there, but it looks like I may not get to stay.”

  “Are they putting you under house arrest, too?” she asked wryly.

  She was standing next to the bed, and she fidgeted, moving her feet around in different turned-out positions.

  “In a manner of speaking,” I said. I eyed her movements. Something about them was plucking at my memory. “Congrats on the stone armor, by the way.”

  She pushed her fingers though her hair in a gesture that was eerily similar to a gesture I often made. “Oh yeah, your tip helped a lot. Now I don’t have to worry about going back to the Duergar, at least.”

  “Periclase will probably still argue that he’s your father, but you’re right. You can stay if you want to, now that you’ve shown you have sufficient New Garg blood.” I looked up at her, suddenly realizing why her fidgeting seemed to have a form to it. “Were you a dancer?”

  Her eyes widened slightly in surprise. “Ten years in the San Francisco Ballet. Now I’m an instructor. Or I was. You know, before I came here. I’ve probably lost my job by now.”

  I let out a short laugh. “We might have more in common than I thought.”

  “You have a background in dance?”

  “Oh, Oberon, no. I’d look like an ox in a tutu. But I’m on the verge of losing my job, too.”

  “Sorry to hear that.”

  “Do you know what you’re going to do when the ti
me comes?” I asked. I knew it was still early in the homecoming process, but I was curious about where her mind was on the matter.

  “I’m pretty sure I’ll go back,” she said. “Probably have to find a new apartment and a new job, but . . .” She looked around the room and shivered a little, stuffing her hands into the front pocket of her jeans. “This is all just so strange.”

  Pretty sure. Probably.

  I hid a smile. She was going to stay. I’d bet money on it, if I had any to put down. It would be hard for her, but I could see it in her eyes. She knew this—Faerie—was the thing she’d been missing her whole life. The secret that had been whispering through her mind, but she couldn’t quite hear.

  If I could just come around to some of that acceptance about staying here, my life would be a hell of a lot easier.

  I spent the next two days resting and healing, and by the third day, I’d had enough sitting around on my ass to last the rest of my life.

  In spite of the protests of people around me, I gathered my things, hopped on Vincenzo, and made my way back to Boise.

  Lochlyn had sent me notes while I was recuperating. She’d packed up all of our things, and she’d taken her stuff and moved out of our apartment. She was couch surfing with some of her nightclub friends until she found a job. My stuff was still at our old place, which I discovered had been padlocked.

  I drew Mort, punched a little magic into the sword, and jabbed it into the lock. Fortunately, our landlord was a human normal with no magic ability, and he was too cheap to pay for a magic-resistant lock. The mechanism popped open, and I pulled it off and dropped it on the ground.

  Inside, the place was empty except for the thrift-store furniture in my room and a couple of boxes that Lochlyn had packed for me, which I knew contained only clothes and a few toiletries. It struck me that I didn’t really keep any personal things with me on this side of the hedge. Anything from my childhood was back in my tiny quarters in the fortress. Had some part of me expected I’d someday have to return to there? Maybe. But I’d always felt that getting criminal vampires off the streets was more important than Faerie politics. It was my way of paying homage to the mother I never had a chance to know, whose difficult, young life had been cut short by a vamp. I might be able to save some other kid from losing a parent the way I had.