by Kara Jaynes
“—Twyli royalty,” I finished. “You definitely looked related to the prince’s father,” I conceded. My lip curled in distaste. "Looks like running kingdoms poorly is in the blood.”
"Very funny." Fyrsil rolled his eyes, then furrowed his brow, his expression turning contemplative. "The old man for a moment thought I was his brother, and that Twyli we captured back at my camp called me 'master,' remember? He must have mistaken me for his king. The innkeeper saw the resemblance too. And the prince obviously thought me a threat to his country.” Fyrsil hesitated a moment before adding, “He said he was going to conquer the other lands too. That doesn’t . . . sound good.”
“No, it doesn’t,” I agreed. The comment Hydari made had bothered me too. I would have to ask Aaric about it.
The snow was deep and unbroken, and it was several hours before we found ourselves back at our campsite. It was empty.
“Where is Aaric?” I tried to stomp on my rising sense of panic. “Where is he?”
“Don’t worry,” Fyrsil’s tone was soothing, but his eyes were concerned as he scanned the camp and surrounding area. “He had Zero with him. I’m sure they’re fine.” He chewed his lip. “It’s a pity it snowed. We would’ve been able to track them easily, otherwise.”
“Where could they have gone?” I turned in a slow circle. “There’s nowhere for them to go.”
“With our luck, they were probably captured.” Fyrsil ran his fingers distractedly through his hair, leaving it a wild dark tangle. “Too bad neither of them are magic users or I could track them that way."
I rocked Dahlia in my arms, an icy pit of fear settling in my stomach. “What do we do?”
Fyrsil shrugged helplessly. “Nothing. It’s getting dark. We’ll stay here tonight and figure things out tomorrow morning.”
I nodded. “Good idea. They should be back by then and can explain why they left.”
The brigand king watched me, his face expressionless as rock. “And if they don’t?”
“Aaric will come back,” I said firmly. He had to.
25
Aaric
“Explain yourself!” Aaric shouted into the fog. “If you harm Adaryn, I’ll . . .” He trailed off. What could he do? Nothing. He was useless. He’d always been useless. A disappointment to his father, a burden to his mother.
Adaryn needs you, the voice spoke again. It weighed on his mind. Trying to peer through the fog, trying to locate the voice, Aaric realized it was in his mind. She will die if you’re not strong enough, Denali. Enter the arch and end it.
“End what?” Aaric wiped his sweaty hands on his trousers.
End the perversion of Dark magic. Protect the children. Create a future for Omniah and Twyarinoth.
“Why me?” Aaric tilted his head as he considered the words. “That sounds like a tall order. I don’t think I’m the right man for the job.” He thought of Bran, the strong, confident nomad who didn’t need help from anyone or anything. He had the sky jewel now, and with it, he was practically invincible. He’d saved Aaric’s life on numerous occasions. Aaric only seemed to get in the way. He’d never saved anyone.
You saved Adaryn once. The voice pressed inside his mind. When her spirit was about to shatter, you saved her.
Aaric’s head was filled with images of Adaryn’s torture, Kingsley abusing her. Aaric hadn’t been there when it happened, but the images in his mind were being shown like they were his own. He saw himself come into the room where Kingsley was beating Adaryn, saw himself knock Kingsley out and free her. He watched how he’d freed the slaves. He saw, clearly, Ember leaping forward, wrapping her magic around him when the explosions went off.
You freed them, little Denali. The voice sounded satisfied. Even without the aid of magic, you were able to overcome this insurmountable task. I need your help now.
“To . . . end the Dark magic.” Aaric eyed the arch doubtfully. Was the voice coming from there?
Yes. Stop the corruption of the Twyli. Corruption is happening on both sides of the Dragon’s Tail, Aaric. We gave the ability to use magic to a select few many, many years ago. The Royal Twyli were to rule the Denali with justice and with mercy. But the Twyli king on the west side of the mountains grew jealous of the riches he saw being brought into Harbor from lands afar, and conspired to enslave them. He had the Denali build the Tower, and mined lithyum to power the collars. In the end, he was collared himself, bringing an end to his reign and the beginning of the Twyli nomads.
Aaric nodded eagerly, his ears perking up at this new information. There wasn’t a trace of this history anywhere, not in any book he had read, for sure. He wished he had a pen and paper.
The Twyli on this side of the Dragon’s Tail, however, have kept their power, but they are wiping out the race of Denali. I cannot allow this!
The voice roared. Aaric staggered, putting his hands to his ears. He smiled wryly; the sound was in his head, not around him. Could he smell smoke?
“Tell me what you need me to do and I will try my best,” Aaric answered truthfully.
Enter the arch, and you will know what needs to be done.
“Hmm.” Aaric rubbed his chin, frowning at the great white arch of stone. “What if I don’t?”
Do you see an alternative to your predicament? The voice sounded amused.
“No, not really.” Aaric frowned, a thought coming to him. “You brought me down here, didn’t you?”
Yes.
“Can you at least tell me who you are?”
Enter the arch.
Closing his eyes, Aaric took a deep breath. “Will I see my wife again?”
That is entirely up to you.
Aaric opened his eyes. Clenching his fists, he stepped forward. He’d made his choice.
The light surrounded him.
26
Adaryn
Dawn’s faint light tinted the horizon. I shivered, wrapping my cloak tighter around my frame as I stirred the porridge over the cook fire. I’d taken the last watch and was now making breakfast.
I heard the snap of a branch in the morning stillness and lifted my head in alarm, scanning the area. Peering into the gray light of morning I saw a shadowy figure approach camp. I stood, the hairs on the back of my neck rising. The figure looked familiar, and I thought of the Twyli prince.
“It’s Zero.”
I jumped. I’d been so intent that I didn’t notice Fyrsil behind me. Now that he’d come closer, I could make out the sun-bleached hair of the other man. He was alone.
“Let me talk to him.” Fyrsil placed a hand on my shoulder in what he probably thought was a reassuring manner. “Zero is painfully shy and tends to stutter when he’s nervous.” He strode past me to meet his servant.
Zero quickened his stride when he saw Fyrsil, and on reaching him, dropped to one knee. They were too far away for me to hear their words, but the two of them appeared to be conversing. Zero unsheathed his sword and held it up to Fyrsil, still kneeling. The brigand king shook his head and motioned Zero to sheath his blade. I frowned, wondering what it meant.
They talked for several minutes more, but I couldn’t hear anything from my vantage point. I was about to join them when Zero stood and walked past me to camp without so much as glancing in my direction.
“What was that all about?” I asked.
Fyrsil watched his servant, a troubled look on his face. “We need to talk.”
“About what?” I pressed. “What’s going on?”
“Zero says he failed my command to protect Aaric.”
“Were they attacked? What happened to my husband?” I fought to keep my voice down—I didn’t want to wake Dahlia—but it was a struggle.
Fyrsil’s frown deepened. “I . . . Zero said he fell.”
“Fell? Where? Why? Zero!” I stalked over to the man setting up camp. “What happened to my husband? Blast it, answer me, Zero!”
The fool man had begun tidying the camp, of all things. I reached out and grabbed his coat sleeve. A moment later, I was pi
cking myself up out of the snow, head ringing. He’d hit me!
“Don’t touch me.” Zero’s voice was ice-cold, revulsion on his face.
The rage I’d tried so hard to contain boiled to the surface, the magic coming with it. I summoned it, the magic crackling around me in a wreath of blue light. Zero held his sword, his face hard.
“How could you?” I screamed in his face. “You’re a liar. You’re telling me my husband fell? You killed him!”
“Zero doesn’t lie, Adaryn.” Fyrsil approached, hands held up in a peaceful gesture. “If Zero said that the volcano took him, then—”
“No.” I turned to him, hatred and despair washing over me. “I’m done with you and your stupid lies. I was foolish to think you’d changed. You told Zero to kill Aaric, didn’t you?”
“You sound like an idiot,” Fyrsil snorted, but I didn’t listen. It all made sense now as the memories from Twyarinoth came crashing back. Fyrsil had suggested I forget Aaric and the girl.
“You had Zero kill him because you wanted me.” I choked on my grief. “I hate you!” Words weren’t enough. Tears springing to my eyes, I called the magic inside me, and slammed it into the ground under Fyrsil. I wanted to kill him. “I trusted you again and you betrayed me.” I hurtled myself at him, hitting him everywhere I could reach, my hands curled into fists. “I-hate-you-I-hate-you-I-hate-you!”
Fyrsil grabbed me by the wrists. “Calm down!” He was shouting, incredulity on his face. “What is your problem? I—”
“Let go!” I ripped my arms from his grasp and stumbled through the snow at a run to my tent. Dahlia was crawling through the tent flap, eyes still red from sleep. I picked her up and grabbing my pack, went to our horses. I would have to leave the gliders and everything else.
I secured a pack over my shoulder, and sat Dahlia in the saddle on Aaric’s horse.
“We’re leaving, Dahlia.” I smiled through my tears, my lips quivering, and climbed up to sit behind her, leading the other horse by the reins.
Fyrsil made one last effort to stop me, stepping in front of the horse. “This is madness, Adaryn. If Zero said an accident happened to your husband, then I believe him.”
“Get out of the way.” My body shook with rage. “I’ll run you over, so help me.”
Fyrsil wisely moved to the side, his hands held out as if to soothe me. “At least take your tent. It’s suicide to travel in these winters without adequate shelter.”
I booted the horse to a trot, ignoring the brigand king. I had to get away from him and his hateful servant, now, or I’d try to kill them. But I couldn’t risk Dahlia’s life. We had to leave.
Helpless anger burned through me, and I clenched my teeth together, unsuccessfully trying to stifle a sob. “Goodbye, Fyrsil.”
Tears streaming down my cheeks, I rode away.
27
Adaryn
I ran through the dark smoke, trying to find him. The air was thick and I coughed, choking on ash. Aaric was out there, somewhere. I had to find him.
“Aaric!” My mouth filled with swirling ash, and I coughed again, spitting it from my mouth. I blinked, my eyes watering. Panic washed over me in waves and I scanned the darkness, trying to find him. He was gone. Gone. “Aaric!”
The smoke roiled around me.
Warn them. A voice spoke inside my mind. A deep voice that sounded human, but also not human. Warn the Denali.
“I can’t.” I shuddered as grief wracked my body. “I can’t. I need to find Aaric.” He was out there. I could sense him.
Warn them. The smoke thinned, and I felt my heartbeat quicken. I was standing on air.
Ruis sprawled beneath me, a ruin of blackened buildings and tumbled gates. Bodies were strewn everywhere. So much death. Who would be capable of such a thing?
The smoke eddied around me and I coughed. My eyes hurt. When the smoke parted again, I saw the army.
Twyli. They looked like a dark sea, walking out of mountains and across the plains. West. To Ruis. Who would stop them?
Then I saw him. A solitary figure, standing before the army. He was too far away for me to make out his features, but I knew that proud stance, the tall, strong frame.
Bran. He would face them alone.
Warn my people.
The smoke shifted and changed; it was fog, cold and thick. I shivered, hugging myself. I took a hesitant step forward and fell into nothing. I screamed, flailing my arms about, trying to grab hold of something, anything.
Warn them.
I woke up with a gasp, shivering in the cold. I lay under the eaves of a tree, Dahlia in my lap, my cloak wrapped around us for shelter.
I lay my head back down, thinking about my dream. It’d felt so real. Ruis was in danger. Bran was in danger. I frowned. Why would Bran defend Ruis?
Aaric. Grief ripped through me as I remembered my loss, and I gently rocked back and forth with Dahlia in my arms, forcing the pain away. I had to wait. I had to get the child somewhere safe.
The sky began to lighten. It was nearly dawn. It’d be best to move on soon. Without proper shelter, we needed to move with all haste. Fyrsil had been right. Leaving without adequate shelter had been stupid, but I hadn’t been thinking clearly at the time, overwhelmed by my blistering anger.
I sighed, shifting Dahlia into the snow beside me to stand. We needed to keep moving. I felt something around my neck and frowned, my fingers going up to brush my throat.
I was wearing the good-luck charm I’d given to Aaric.
28
Adaryn
I froze, my fingers touching the little beads and woven ribbon. How had it gotten there? Conjuring up my final memory of being with my husband, I distinctly remembered giving it to him. I recalled the woman who sold the charms say it was supposed to keep the wearer safe. My lips wobbled. It hadn’t kept Aaric safe.
Dahlia blinked groggily, her wispy blonde hair in disarray. I hurried to get the horses ready. My dream had been just that, a dream, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that Bran was in danger. I needed to help him. I needed to focus on the living.
I glanced around the snowy landscape, biting my lower lip. We were still in the grip of winter. We’d be hard pressed to stay fed and warm in the meantime. My father had taught me how to set snares for rabbits and other small animals, but so far I hadn’t been able to catch anything. We were on our last reserves of food. We’d have to make a stop at Bleaksdale.
“We need to keep moving, sweetie.” I put Dahlia up on the horse’s back. My husband had never named the beast and had just called it ‘horse.’
I was used to Dahlia’s silence, so my heart hammered against my chest when she stiffened her body, a long, wailing shriek erupting from her throat. Her blue eyes were wide and locked on something past my shoulder.
I stumbled, spinning around in the snow, expecting to see a snow cat or wolves. What I saw chilled me to the bone, filling me with more dread than any animal could inspire.
Up on the hill that led down to the little hollow we’d slept in stood the Twyli prince. I couldn’t see his face clearly from this distance, but his stance was threatening. I felt a thread of magic and he spoke, amplifying his voice.
“I extended the hand of friendship and peace, and you scorned it.” Anger rolled off Hydari’s voice in waves. “You scorned me, the prince of Twyli. With my army, soon to be prince of the world. You won’t live to regret it, woman.”
His magic swelled and I backed away, shying from the force of it. It was nearly as strong as the sky jewel’s power, but it felt wrong, twisted somehow.
The Twyli smiled. “You feel it. The power. It is thanks to the lives of the Denali that this is possible. When you’re dead, I will take the girl. I hate admitting I was wrong, but I should have listened to my sister.” He formed a sword, the blade glowing with a sickly light, and charged down the hill toward me.
I snatched up my own magic, and pushed Dahlia behind me. It was almost laughable how pitiful my enchantment was compared to his, but I would not l
et him take the child.
Hydari was close, now, his features coming into focus, his face twisted into a feral snarl.
I raised my hands, wreathed in blue fire, and the entire hill collapsed in a shuddering roar of snow, dirt and stone. The prince turned, bringing his hands up, but that was all he had time to do before he was completely buried.
I stood still, utterly stunned at what had just happened. “Rover’s luck,” I breathed.
“Not luck, little sand cat,” a familiar voice spoke, and I turned to see Fyrsil step out of the forest’s shadow a few yards away, his midnight hair tied back in a tail.
I tried to make my face stern, folding my arms across my chest, but my legs felt weak with relief. “What are you doing here?”
“Saving your unladylike rear, it seems.” He tilted his head, a roguish smile on his lips. “Again.”
I sniffed dismissively, unable to come up with a retort.
“Adaryn.” His expression grew serious. “I swear I didn’t do anything to harm Aaric. Zero didn’t either. I promise. And I’m really sorry.”
I nodded, looking away from him. Now that the haze of anger had passed, I knew he hadn’t. If Fyrsil had wanted to kill Aaric, he could have done so plenty of times before now. My throat constricted and I couldn’t speak.
The brigand glanced at the mound of fallen snow and dirt. “We’d better leave.”
“Isn’t he dead?” I asked, but I hurriedly mounted Horse, Dahlia sitting front of me.
“With magic like that?” Fyrsil snorted. “Not likely. He’s probably stunned, and will be furious when he digs himself out. We’d better make tracks.” Fyrsil untethered his horse deeper in the woods and swung into the saddle. “The only reason I was able to get the upper hand is because he had no idea I was there.”
Zero joined us shortly thereafter, following Fyrsil like a shadow.
“What’s your plan, Adaryn?” Fyrsil asked. “Where are you going?”
