The black moon crossed the face of the sun.
For a long moment, all went still. The storm without died away, the dark clouds rolling back from the melding of the sun and the moon. I lifted my head to watch as the demon’s eyes closed and disappeared. The lightning flickered once, twice, as its thunder crashed from far away before it, too, departed. It’s over, I thought, more tired than I’ve ever felt in my life. She’d dead, and Fainche and Sofia are avenged. I found no triumph, no joy in our success, at all. The Witch is dead.
Van’s hand slid from my head to my shoulders as he sat beside me, his legs dangling over the edge of the balcony.
“Sorry,” he murmured. “He did what we couldn’t. She was almost too much. Without him –”
“I know.” I couldn’t manage more than a whisper.
“He sacrificed himself. Brave lad.”
My heart aching, yet empty, I raised my upper body with the use of my strong right arm. Learning to ignore the ripping pain, I gained my knees as Van’s helping hand aided me to sit beside him. I cradled my injured left arm within my strong right, unshed tears burning my eyes. How many had to die this day? I half wondered. Too many. Too many.
Together, shoulder to shoulder, we watched as the moon, carried on her course, slowly crossed the face of the new dawn. Bright colors – reds, purples, oranges, yellows – caroused in a bright spray of light as the moon vanished. With it, the prophecy of evil died. The messenger of the gods didn’t die under my mother’s dagger. Evil didn’t, nor would ever, rule my land.
I glanced down. Down the sheer walls of the castle and the slick pinnacle under it, to the unforgiving rocks the castle sprang from. Very far away, a tiny splash of red amid the solid greys and browns marked her. The Red Witch. May the demons feast upon your soul, I thought. I saw no sign of Dra’agor’s corpse. I’m glad I didn’t.
“You good?” Van asked me, his green eyes concerned as he looked me up and down. “You look like shit.”
I found a faint grin somewhere. “You don’t look so hot yourself.”
Van glanced down at himself, his burnt clothes. “Oh, just a bit crispy, on the outside.”
A huge Griffin flew up and past, blowing our hair about in a tremendous backwash of wings. The distinctive one that I thought I recognized, the one with the black feathered mane that crept down its chest to its belly. Unable to hover, it circled once, then dove downward only to rise again on those colossal eagle’s wings. Its yellow raptor eyes and beak angled down to keep us in sight. I took a moment to admire its incredible beauty in flight as it banked around for another pass. “Van?” it asked. “Is the princess all right?”
“She’s fine, Windy,” Van replied. “Tell the King the Witch is dead.”
Ah, yes, Wind Warrior. The one Van joked with when I was captured. The Griffin with the rather interesting sense of humor.
Windy circled, unable to hover. “Oh, he knows, all right. Not a living creature in the castle didn’t fail to see her tossed out the tower. Who was that with her? It looked like a wolf.”
Van cut his hand across his throat with a sharp ‘sssst’, and glanced sidelong at me. “It was,” he answered, his tone low. “He’s the reason we’re all not Witch bait.”
“Oh. Sorry, like.”
I tried to shrug off his sympathy as Van’s hand slid over my uninjured right shoulder. Feeling tired beyond belief, Windy’s words were almost lost amid my thoughts, regrets and wishes swirling around my pounding head. “Uh,” I started, eyeing Van sidelong. “The King?”
Van grinned sheepishly. “Oh, um, well, Flynn, we, er, invaded your country. Sorry and all that, but it was necessary. I’m sure Roidan will give it back. He’s not the conquering sort.”
Rather than be filled with righteous anger, I chuckled instead. It hurt my shoulder something awful, but I did it again. “I suppose we had it coming.”
“Van?”
Windy passed across the broken window again, watching me through those cruel amber eyes. “Why isn’t he dead?”
Van laughed and flung an arm, lightly, considerate of my pain, across my neck. “He’s one of the good guys, Windy, old son. Please request His Majesty send healers. We have injured up here.”
“Righty-o.”
Windy folded his wings and dropped from sight. Though I craned my head to watch, he ducked around the tall walls of the keep and vanished. I glanced aside at Van, considering.
“Did you mean that?”
Van took his arm from me with a puzzled smile. “What? That you’re a good guy?”
“Yes.”
Van’s green eyes turned serious. “Flynn, I meant every word. Though we be mortal enemies, I’ve liked you from the very first moment I met you.”
My throat tightened. “That’s a first.”
“What is?”
“That someone actually likes me for me.”
“Don’t get a huge head over it.”
My guilt rose to nudge me where it counted. “I’m sorry I left you – you know – to – um –”
“Die?”
“Right.”
Van chuckled, rising up from his seated position. His hand supported me as I limped my way to my feet. I needed the help, for without it I knew I’d pitch headlong to the slate. Together, like old friends, or brothers, we walked away from the window. “Wasn’t your call anyway, Flynn. It worked out best.”
I met his amused green eyes. “I’m so very glad you’re not – er, dead, old chap.”
“Sorry I was bit late.”
I leaned away from him, confused. “Late?”
“A spell on that there door.” His head jerked toward what remained of the balcony door. “Took me a bloody two minutes to break, or I’d been inside sooner.”
I raised my healthy right arm to throw around his neck. “Laddie, you were right on time.”
We might have stood there, grinning at each other like fools, had not Iyumi’s quiet sobs broken us apart. We exchanged a quick glance of concern, then bolted toward her. From the moment we locked Mother in our power and Dra’agor pitched her headlong out the window, I’d almost forgotten Iyumi. She’d picked up the troll baby and sat on the floor, rocking gently back and forth.
“Iyumi?” Van asked, squatting beside her.
“She’s dead, Van. She’s dead.”
“Oh, honey –”
Tears streamed past her pale cheeks, her half-choked sobs wrenching my heart. I pushed my own grief for my dead family to the background as Van enclosed her within the circle of his arms. She shouldn’t have died, I thought. I glanced at the blood congealing in the dark curly hair over her skull and knew the fall from Enya’s arms had cracked it. Fatally. To my surprise, I felt regret that she had died. I once hated that nasty creature, and wished her dead many times. Now that she was, I wished she still lived. For she was better than I. She was innocent and good, and we could never have enough innocence and goodness in this terrible world of ours.
“All this to save her – and still she’s dead.”
Iyumi glanced up. “This was her purpose in life,” she murmured, tears streaming down her bruised and bloody face. “To bring us here, to this moment. For this she was born.”
“And the prophecy?”
“She fulfilled it.”
That made no sense to me. “One day, maybe you’ll explain it all.”
I turned away to grant them privacy in their shared grief. My family was dead, I thought. But I had another family that just might be alive. Stumbling across the room, feeling nauseous and light-headed, I made my way toward my lads. Buck-Eye stirred from where he’d fallen, his head busted and streaming blood. But his lively curses informed me his wounds were superficial. Torass and Lyall both rose to their feet, shedding dust and broken shale, leaning against one another for support. I don’t deserve their loyalty, I thought. I murdered a man, shot him in cold blood. I killed my own brother for power. They should hate me. I deserved their hatred.
Dra’agor. He died saving my miserab
le life, I thought, he died saving the world. He’d no reason to love me, but did so of his own volition. A true friend. I freed him. He could have cut and run, dashed his way to the freedom of the mountains and none would lay him blame. Instead, he gave his life for those he loved; Iyumi and me. He gave me all, and asked for nothing in return. No man could ask for more.
My heart couldn’t handle it. Fainche, Sofia, my unborn son, Dra’agor – and even my mother. All gone. All dead. I limped my way to the still blazing hearth, and collapsed. As the sun coursed its way into the blue on blue sky, my tears flowed, unchecked. I surrendered to my grief at last. I sobbed like a broken-hearted child, Buck-Eye’s comforting hand on my shoulder. I wept for those I’d lost, for the innocence I wish I kept, and for the soul I’d surrendered.
I might have cried myself into sleep had not Van hauled me up with his hand under my uninjured arm. “C’mon, Flynn.”
His strength stood me on my feet as Buck-Eye and Torass kept me there. “Let’s get out of this place, old son. You need healing and it’s a long way to the ground floor.”
I nodded, half-blind. “Iyumi?”
Van grimaced. “Saying a few words over the dead. Yours as well as ours.”
My breath choked off. I stumbled away from Buck-Eye toward the corpses. Iyumi knelt beside Fainche, her bound hands making graceful gestures as her low-voiced chant offered up prayers. Dropping heavily to my knees at her side, I tenderly closed my sister’s staring eyes.
“She lives on, Flynn,” Iyumi said gently, breaking off her lilting chant. She took my hand. “You will see them all again, one day, and they will greet you with open arms.”
“I seriously doubt that, Princess,” I replied, my voice hoarse. “They go one way – I go another.”
I felt Iyumi’s eyes study me, and I wanted to slink away from that blue gaze. This tiny girl knew too bloody much by half. My guilt rose under her scrutiny, and I knew hers weren’t the only ones peering into my soul.
“You’re changing the road you’re on, Flynn. You have power now, the power to do a great good. Are you willing to stay on it?”
I half-shrugged, not answering her. I stroked my hand down Fainche’s still-warm cheek. I couldn’t bend to plant a good-bye kiss on her brow as I wanted, but I kissed my fingers and touched them to her lips. “Watch over me,” I whispered. “When you can.”
I needed Iyumi’s help to stand. Stepping around my sister, I gazed down at the butchered corpse of my wife. “I never told you I loved you, Sofia,” I murmured. “I should have. If you’re still here, take these words with you on your journey – I love you. I’ve always loved you.”
“She heard you. They are both still here, as is your son.”
Though I couldn’t bend down and take my son’s tiny hand within my own, I whispered, “Look after your mother now. One day, we’ll be a family again. I’m counting on you, my little one. My firstborn. My son.”
Uncaring that the others witnessed my grief, I let her steer me back across the chamber. Though I fully expected it, I found no contempt in the eyes or the expressions of Van, Buck-Eye, Torass or Lyall. Instead, Van greeted me with a sympathetic smile and a wink. Buck-Eye nodded his respect and Lyall murmured, “Sorry for your loss, like.”
No jealousy rose within me as Iyumi walked with lowered head and nudged her way under Van’s sheltering arm. They love one another, I thought, with a love so few in this dangerous world ever found.
I might find, one day, a love such as this. But it wasn’t this day.
Van placed his hand on the manacles trapping her life and her power. He muttered one single word. “Break.”
Under his intense magic, the dark manacles shattered, a hundred tiny fragments exploding everywhere. Many pieces fell to the slate at our feet while more tinkled against the wall or where caught in our clothing. She didn’t rub the soreness from her bruised wrists, but instead locked them around Van’s neck. He held her close, her silver-gilt hair hiding his face.
Astounded, I nudged the dark-colored steel fragments with my toe. “How’d you do that?”
Van raised his face from her shoulder to grin. “Easy once you know how.”
Had I not known what a laugh would do to my shoulder, I’d have let loose with a big one. “I need some serious instruction. Will you teach me?”
“I’m busy right now.”
Turning from Van’s arms, Iyumi wiped her damp cheeks and smiled. She took my uninjured hand within both of hers and squeezed. “Come, Flynn, let’s get out of here. Healers are on their way and we’re all in need of attention. Buck-Eye, put his arm over your shoulder, there’s a dear. Can’t have him dropping down the stairs like his old man. Torass, Lyall, you, too. ”
As though owing her his loyalty, Buck-Eye obeyed her instantly. He slipped my healthy right arm over his shoulder. I appreciated it very much, for when I tried to walk, I almost fell.
“Easy, m’lord,” Buck-Eye muttered. “One step at a time, there’s a good chap.”
In this odd entourage, Iyumi and Van leading, me and my mercenary crutch next, Torass and Lyall following, we walked through the double doors. I’d almost forgotten the dead lying out there. When Iyumi would have bent to them, Van kept her upright with his hand firmly under her arm. “Later, love,” he murmured, kissing her cheek. “You can send them on their journey after we fix Flynn and the others up.”
Inching our way past the bodies, I stepped close to Blaez’s corpse. Focused on the tightly wound stairs ahead, I wondered how in the hell my crutch and I would make it down them. Only wide enough for one man, no room for two.
A hand clutched my ankle.
Startled, I cursed aloud and jumped. Buck-Eye reacted instantly and yanked me out of harm’s way. Van and Iyumi turned back, Van’s sword in his fist. “Flynn?”
“Gods,” I choked. “He’s still alive.”
I stared down at Blaez’s bloody grin, astonished. I thought I killed him. The power I blasted him with – how could he still be alive? He choked, wheezing out his life, trying to laugh. “I gotya now, Prince,” he gasped, trying to sit up.
The damage I’d done was obvious – his chest crushed, his arms shattered, his face a mask of broken bones and blood. How he still lived was amazing. But his eyes burned livid holes into me, his gory grin wide and mocking.
“I done told ye, Prince,” he cackled. “I told ye you’d all burn. Half hour after dawn and yer castle will burn ye to bits.”
My breath caught. Sergei. Sergei tried to warn me. Blaez told him, and he told me.
“Where’s the bomb, Blaez? Where’d you put it?”
“What’s he talking about?” Van asked, standing beside me as I stared down at the cackling and rapidly expiring Commander.
“He planted a bomb,” Iyumi answered, dropping to her knees beside the dying Blaez. “One big enough to bring down the entire castle.”
“The town, too, bitch,” Blaez wheezed, coughing up a spurt of blood. “None ‘o ye’ll escape the fires. Ye’ll burn and burn. Fire and steel. Fire and steel, yep, yep.”
Iyumi rested her fingers lightly on Blaez’s brow. “Where is it, Commander? Where did you plant the bomb?”
If she exerted her power, I neither saw nor sensed it. By Van’s blank expression, neither did he. Our magic could sense another’s when used, but neither of us felt Iyumi’s. I strongly suspected that because her power was derived straight from the gods themselves, our mundane magic could neither see nor hear it.
Blaez’s eyed glazed over. “In the cellars,” he whispered. “‘Tis spelled to explode fifteen minutes from now.”
His eyes rolled back in his head. His rising chest settled onto itself as he took his last breath. Collapsing upon itself, his body sank to the cold flagstone as Blaez died.
Iyumi rose to stand beside Van, her fair lips pursed thoughtfully. “He didn’t leave us much time.”
“Heal me,” I snapped. “We have to find that bomb.”
“Flynn, there’s not enough –”
“We have to find it,” I yelled. “We have to stop it.”
“Van, he’s right. It’s not just the people of the town and the castle, it’s our own folk as well. My father –”
“Go.” Van shoved her toward the stairs. “You.” He jerked his head toward Buck-Eye and the others. “Go with her. Tell the King to begin evacuating as many people as he can.”
They didn’t hesitate. With Iyumi in the lead, they bolted for the stairs and vanished down them. At the same instant I heard the rapid tattoo of their tread, Van’s hand closed on my brow. I’d felt his healing touch before, but that experience didn’t prepare me for this. His power slammed into me like a bolt of sheet lightning. Caught between agony and ecstasy, I felt fire roar through my veins. Under its flames, my pain withered and died. I felt the broken bones in my shoulder meet and meld, reforming in strength. Blood washed through the torn ligaments and muscles, cleansing them of all hurt.
I wanted to pass out. I wanted to vomit. Neither happened as I staggered as Van’s power left me. His strong arms held me upright as he gazed deep into my sweating face. “Flynn?”
I straightened, rolling my shoulders under the terrific heat. Calling on my own magical powers, I poured new energy and strength into my body, assimilating with Van’s. As though having slept for a month, my vigor returned in full force. I shook off his helping hands and gasped. “I’m good, I’m good.”
“Where are the cellars he mentioned? Don’t say down – what’s the quickest way to them?”
“Beneath the keep,” I answered, my tone sharp. “There’s a door, but it’s a long way down. It’ll take us –”
His hand dragged me with him. “I hope you’re not afraid of heights.”
I didn’t have time to answer as we ran back into the north tower chamber. The dead within it scarcely registered as Van lunged for the broken window. What the hell? I tried to say, but I couldn’t escape his grasp.
Van dove out the window and took me with him. Empty air caught at my clothes. The ground below – ye gods! I fell, just as my mother, and Dra’agor, fell, rushing toward the deadly rocks at roughly twice the speed of light. I am so dead, my mind gibbered, wind-driven tears staining my sight.
The Unforgiven Page 57
