by Shae Ford
“No, keep yourself calm. We have no power against the mages.”
“I’m not going to attack him,” Declan promised. “I only want to see what we’re up against. I’ll just open it a crack.”
After a moment of glaring, she relented. “Be careful.”
“I will.” Declan eased the door from its frame an inch. “There’s a tapestry on the other side. I can’t get a good look at … wait a moment. Here’s a worn bit.”
He peered through a bare section of thread and a large, dark room came into focus. Light spilled from the hearth, but that was it. There didn’t appear to be any windows in the chamber.
A man paced back and forth across the flickering trail left by the hearth fires. There were scratches and bruises across his face. He wore gold robes — the same as the mages who’d attacked them in the plains. There was a shackle glowing red upon his wrist. As he stalked, he whispered loudly into the silent room:
“Get her, beast … grab her around the throat … yes!” he cried suddenly, clenching his fists before him. “Yes! Drag her down, send her body through the fortress! Crush her! Crush —”
A blast stumbled Declan backwards, and a flare of light blinded him for a moment. Nadine grabbed onto his belt to keep from being rolled away by the force of the blast. When Declan finally steadied himself, a new voice filled the chamber:
“Enough, Ulric! The battle is lost, Midlan has fallen. Let the boy go … or I’ll put a stop to you, myself.”
Ulric responded with a roar and an arc of red flame. It flew towards the three darkened figures standing in the doorway: the two on either side leapt out of its path, but the man in the middle caught the flames against a spell of his own.
The noise as the two spells collided stabbed Declan’s ears. He held on tightly to Nadine as the mages tried to blast each other into the under-realm. Back and forth they fought, moving around the room in a dueler’s dance.
Though the mage with the green spells held his own for a moment, he was quickly driven back against a wall. His many wrinkles deepened against the fury of the red light, and his gray beard seemed close to catching flame.
“We must do something!” Nadine cried, her hands twisting into his tunic.
The mages’ battle had carried them close to the tapestry. Ulric was only a few paces away. When he tried to outflank the older mage, it left his back exposed. Now he faced the wall and kept all of his focus on the battle. He paid no mind to anything behind him …
Declan had an idea. “Pass me the door.”
“I — what? No, what are you doing with me? Put me down!” Knotter cried.
But the mots paid him no heed. They wedged their tiny fingers beneath him and passed him in an ant’s line to Declan — who grabbed him firmly around the wooden sides.
“No spell can touch you, right?”
Knotter replied with an unintelligible groan.
Nadine seemed to realize what Declan had planned. She slid her spear against the tapestry’s edge. “When you are ready, I will cast it aside. The mots will be right behind you.”
“Yeh, and stay close together, wee things. It’s about to get thick —”
“No, wait!” Knotter’s lopsided face twisted with a sigh. “If you’re going to do this, at least turn me around. I’d like to be able see what’s coming.”
Declan flipped him so that his knot faced out. “All right, then. Here we go!”
Nadine slung the tapestry aside — and Declan charged through the door. The chamber shrank quickly beneath his sprint. Ulric twisted around at the sound of his roar and only managed to fire one spell.
It struck Knotter hard, and the door let loose with a battle cry when the fires shook him. Declan’s muscles swelled as he struggled to hold his course. But hold it, he did. He picked up speed the second they struck flesh — and he didn’t stop until he’d crushed Ulric against the wall.
“Is that it? Is he dead?”
“No, not yet,” Knotter grunted.
Declan’s next thrust brought with it the unmistakable sound of crunching bones.
“Blah! That did it.”
Ulric left such a mess against the wall that Declan didn’t think the stones would ever recover. To his right, the mots gathered around the old mage. He thanked them quietly as they helped him to his feet.
“Much appreciated, little ones. You were a bit late, but not too late. That’s the main thing.”
Nadine stared him in the eyes for a moment, mouth agape. Then all at once, she grinned. “You have the Sight.”
“I do, yes. How wise of you to notice.” The old mage cast his stare around the room, and his mouth went sharp. “We really must be going, now. There’s something —”
“Ahoy there, mates!” Jonathan called. He jogged through the door, arm slinging before him in a wave. Eveningwing darted in close behind.
Declan had to squint just to make sure it wasn’t the grog playing tricks on him. “Is that you, wee fiddler?”
“Sure. Who else would it be?” he said with a grin.
Jonathan slung one of the old mage’s arms across his shoulder, and Eveningwing propped him up on the other side. No sooner had they gotten settled than something like thunder shook the stone beneath their feet. A pair of furious roars filled the hallways.
The old mage’s eyes widened, and he cried out. “No! Oh, we’re too late! Move me quickly — please, we must hurry!”
“What is wrong?” Nadine said.
The old mage shook his head. “Devin was supposed to stay out of reach. He wasn’t supposed to come down. If the Forsaken One finds him … oh, I groan to think of it! Please, please we must hurry!”
*******
Kael knew he had to find Ulric — but he had no idea where the archmage might be.
Most of Midlan was deserted. He’d come across a band of soldiers every once in a while. But the moment he drew Daybreak, they’d tear off in the other direction. The hallways twisted and turned in unreliable patterns. He listened at every bend for the sound of a mage’s spell. He scanned the chambers as he jogged past, hoping for any sign that the archmage might be hiding within them.
He was halfway up a tower’s steps when the floor shook violently. Roars billowed up throughout the halls — and they were unmistakably familiar.
Kael forgot his task. He tore down the steps and sprinted in the direction he thought the roars had come from. No matter what Kyleigh said, he couldn’t leave her on her own. She was no match for Dorcha — and if the black dragon had fallen back to earth, he wouldn’t need to find Ulric.
Kael could end the battle, himself.
By the time he reached the end of the next hall, the roaring had stopped. His heart pounded inside his chest as several long, silent moments passed. Worry clenched his knees, but he forced himself to move. At last, he found a promising chamber.
What looked to be the last remaining company of Midlan stood before it. They slammed themselves against the towering doors, trying to force their way inside. Kael ripped Daybreak from its sheath and charged into their backs. A spout of white-hot flame cut the nearest men across their middles — the rest fled his path.
The door’s bolt melted beneath Daybreak’s flaming edge. Kael kicked them open — and marched straight for Dorcha.
The black dragon was crouched in the middle of an enormous chamber. The roof lay in a shattered mess all across the floor. Dawn light poured in from above. Dorcha had his back turned to the door. His deep, booming hum rattled the grit across the stone. His wings bent open slightly, and Kael thought he might be about to take off again.
He couldn’t let Dorcha leave. He couldn’t let him go after Kyleigh.
A storm of anger and fear erupted in Kael’s veins. The world blurred as he pounded for Dorcha with a cry.
An arc from Daybreak slapped against Dorcha’s back. When he flung his great body aside, Kael struck him across the chest. The shock of his wounds must’ve knocked him from his scales: Dorcha twisted in pain, roaring as he slid bac
k into his human skin.
And Kael saw his chance.
He stepped over to where Dorcha lay and pressed a boot across his throat. He held Daybreak’s point above his chest, aiming over his heart. It was difficult not to notice the scales that burst through his human skin: they were raised taut, swollen painfully around fresh pools of blood. The collar around his neck was gone, melted. Its iron trail left shining lines across his shoulders. Ulric must already be dead. If that were true, then there was no need …
No. No, this is different, Kael reminded himself. Dorcha can’t be allowed to go free. He’s far too powerful. He’s far too dangerous.
He met the halfdragon’s burning yellow eyes, hoping to find some proof within them. He wanted to find the cruelty he’d seen in Finks, or the wickedness of Earl Titus — some raging, unrepentant line of evil strong enough to send Daybreak through his chest …
But there was none.
Without the collar to madden his gaze, Dorcha stared up at him, defeated. His arms lay limply by his sides. A burning wound hissed across his chest — a mark of Daybreak’s fury. But though he must’ve been in pain, he didn’t show it. The look he wore was of a man who knew all of the horrible things he’d done, and who expected to pay for them.
Kael could’ve paid him back. He was an inch from ending him.
But at the last moment, a truth he’d once spoken struck him hard: Dorcha deserved a chance. Every creature deserved a chance. The fact that he was powerful shouldn’t have meant a blasted thing. At his heart, the halfdragon was no different than the mountain folk, or the King’s monsters. That’s what Kyleigh had been trying to tell him all along — Kael had just been too stubborn to listen.
If he killed Dorcha now, it would only be because he feared him … and that was no better than what Titus had done to the wildmen, or what Crevan had done to the whisperers. There was absolutely no good in it.
Kael stood upon the edge of villainy — and it was that bitter realization that drew his boot away, that sent Daybreak back into its sheath. Perhaps he was a fool for letting Dorcha live. Only time would tell.
But for now, he was giving him a chance.
“Where’s Kyleigh?” he said, turning his glare upon the hole in the ceiling. He nearly jumped out of his skin when Dorcha grabbed his leg …
No, it wasn’t Dorcha. The eyes that widened upon his were a pure, stark blue — the eyes of a draega. When he spoke, the panicked voice belonged to a young man:
“Please, help her! You have to help her!”
The world fell out from beneath him. He didn’t remember moving. He didn’t remember breathing. His eyes stayed glued to the back of the halfdragon’s head as he sprinted for the rubble in the middle of the room.
Tears streamed from the boy’s eyes as he crouched beside something in the ruins —
“Kyleigh!”
Kael fell down beside her and placed his hands against her wound: a horrible gash that tore down her side, shattered her armor, and ripped across her middle. Blood poured from it in a terrifying rush. The things beneath her flesh were traumatized, ravaged into splits.
It took everything in his power, every ounce of his will — but somehow, he managed to keep his hands from shaking. “Hold on, Kyleigh — I can fix this. Just breathe. Breathe for me, will you? Try to stay calm …”
Her hand gripped his, jarring him from his trance. He glanced up to tell her to be still, and instead … he saw something that crushed him.
The fires in her eyes were … fading. Already, they’d shrunk to a single spark — a frail, sputtering hiss of flame. They were so glassed in agony that he didn’t think she could see beyond her pain. But her fingers wrapped around him gently, calmly. There was an assurance in her touch that somehow carried the weight of a thousand mountains with it:
She was telling him she was ready. She was at peace …
“No, I don’t want to hear it. Don’t let go, Kyleigh — don’t you dare let go!”
Her mouth twitched slightly at his words — whether in a smile or a grimace, he would never know. Kael clung to the last remaining shred of light in her eyes.
It was a tiny, miserable thing — a flake of ash batted by the wind. But every piece of his flesh and every thread of his soul was bent upon it. The tiny ember seemed to call out to him as it fluttered off into the distance, into whatever cold, immeasurable depth of silence waited beyond the light …
And Kael plunged after it.
CHAPTER 56
Kael the Fool
The strange trinkets shattered into pieces, all of the tapestries ripped from the walls. A horrible, monstrous windstorm blasted through the hall of Kyleigh’s mind — and at its end, a bright light awaited.
Kael stood untouched by the wind. All of the debris of her memories tore through him, as if he were made of smoke. The light at the end of the passage began to dim: a darkness dragged behind its fading reach, plunging the hallway into nothing.
He broke into a sprint — pounding his way across the cold stone floors, desperate to stay at the edge of the light. Kael sensed that if he fell behind and the darkness overtook him, he would lose his grip. He’d be spat into reality … and Kyleigh would slip beyond his reach.
No. He wasn’t going to let that happen.
The warrior in him spurred his legs to a new, furious speed. His lungs burned, his body ached. Sweat drenched his back even as the light grew dimmer. The darkness was an ever-present force: it lunged for him, snapped at his heels. All of its grasping tendrils shrieked as they tried to drag him under.
But Kael would not be stopped.
He threw himself into the last remaining shred of light and shut his eyes against the world that awaited him beyond.
For a moment, he was weightless. Kael’s body hung inside the grip of a boundless, clear blue sky. There was a large track of barren land several miles beneath him, scorched brown by the fury of the sun.
All of the pieces of Kyleigh’s mind whipped away from him. They rode like leaves along the path of the wind. The storm gales carried them across the sky, over the barren land.
But Kael couldn’t feel the wind. Its power couldn’t touch him. Instead of following after Kyleigh, he began to fall.
He wasn’t sure how far he fell. The whole time his body plummeted through the sky, he kept his eyes on Kyleigh’s memories. They danced away until they finally disappeared into the line of the horizon — just as Kael struck the ground.
All of the wind left his lungs and his head snapped hard against the earth. A cloud of dust stung his eyes. He should’ve been dead. There was no way his body could’ve possibly stayed in one piece. But somehow, it had.
The sun hung high above him — an unblinking eye of the purest, most draining heat he’d ever felt. Not even the warmth inside the dragons’ mountain had tested him so fiercely.
When Kael tried to don his scales, his mind struck a wall. It was as if his powers had been swept away by the wind. He couldn’t remember how to conjure his armor. Where the memories ought to have been, there was nothing but a ragged, gaping hole.
He didn’t have time to worry over it. He couldn’t have cared less about having his powers. At that moment, there was only one task he could remember — and it consumed his every thought:
He had to find Kyleigh.
A range of mountains loomed behind him. They stretched from one end of the world to the next — impenetrable, save for a jagged pass that split the rock at his back. Kael stood so close to the mountains that he might’ve been able to touch them, had he reached out. But Kyleigh’s soul hadn’t gone into the mountains.
The land before him was as endless as the seas. Countless miles of cracked, sandy earth awaited him. But there, just along the edge of the far horizon, he saw a line of green.
There must’ve been a land beyond this one, a place where all the souls of men found their rest: the under-realm, the eternal woods — whatever world it was that stood along that line, Kael was determined to reach it. He was cer
tain he’d find Kyleigh there.
So he set out.
The barren land was silent and still; the rhythm of Kael’s boots against the earth was the only noise for miles. His panting breaths scraped loudly across his ears. The sun’s fire beat him mercilessly. Without his warrior’s strength, his legs began to shake. Soon, torrents of sweat stung his eyes, and his lungs screamed for air.
But though he could hardly see through the pain, he kept his gaze bent upon the far horizon — on that thin, wavering line of green.
The sun never moved. It was as if this entire world were frozen into a single moment of time. There was an unshakeable spirit about it, one that draped itself in relentless folds across his shoulders. Every breath he took singed the insides of his chest: the air seemed to drain him, rather than give his body strength. He found no reprieve in slowing his pace.
It wasn’t long before he fell into a dogged march.
Though he must’ve run for hours, the horizon seemed no closer. Surely it was only a trick of his eyes. Kael turned to see how far he’d gone from the mountains … and saw that he hadn’t moved an inch. They were still right behind him — an arm’s reach away.
It … it wasn’t possible. It simply wasn’t possible.
Kael twisted back to the horizon and nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw he wasn’t alone: a man had appeared before him. He was dressed all in white, clothed in a plain tunic and breeches. There was a great sword propped over his shoulder — one so large that he didn’t think anyone but a whisperer could’ve carried it, in life.
The man’s slight frame, thin features, and flaming red hair were undeniably familiar. Kael recognized him immediately:
“Setheran?”
The man didn’t reply. Though his body certainly belonged to Setheran, the eyes did not. Where the Wright’s calm stare should’ve been, there were two pale orbs — a dead man’s eyes that shone with a soft light.
