The Black Mage blocked the attack with his fist, but the defense wasn’t without its cost. The serrated edge of my dagger pressed down against his skin. A bit of steam rose when his blood hit the floor.
The two of us continued to circle and lunge.
I tried not to think about how this moment would end, but with every passing second, it was becoming harder to pretend.
Our chests rose and fell heavily to match the beat of our pulses. A couple of minutes and then one of us would land a cut. A moment later, the other would follow.
Back and forth. In and out.
And blood.
Cutting, slashing. Gods, it was getting harder just to breathe. Sweat stung my eyes, and I grew dizzier with every lunge.
I wondered who would be first to collapse.
Stop worrying about the end, just focus on now.
I swung wildly as my boots slipped on ice.
Darren’s arm came up and out.
For just a moment, our wrists caught in one solitary blow. My breath came out hard and fast. I swallowed, feeling the dance of magic just below my skin.
Cast. End this now. Fight.
I had never agreed to “no magic,” and who would honor a deal with the villain? I could cast now. It would be so easy.
The second dagger withdrew from its sheath at my arm.
Darren’s gaze flit to the blade hovering in the air.
“Do it.” His eyes were twin pits of black; his taunt daring and cold. “Kill me.”
The second dagger dipped low against his chest. One swift push was all it would take.
Do it.
My casting trembled in the air as the magic pulsed along my skin.
Kill me.
There were a thousand and one reasons to take the Black Mage’s life. My friends. The rebels. Jerar.
My stomach clenched as my eyes locked on his. He was a monster, but I wasn’t any better. And if I did this…
Ian had been the one to say it: “Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t hold yourself responsible for what he’s become.”
My friend was right. I did. And if I cheated our magicless duel, I was no better than the traitor Darren believed me to be.
I couldn’t do this.
Gods, I knew everything Darren had done, everything he would do, but I still…
No.
Not like this.
“One blade.” My mouth was dry as I croaked the words. “No magic.”
The second dagger returned to its sheath.
Darren would kill me. His eyes locked on mine and I could see it. There was hate. So much hate. It was drowning me, and it was everything I had ever done. I could see it right there in his eyes.
Fight.
It was the two of us, our arms crossed and weapons drawn.
My fingers trembled against the blade, and my wrist burned where his skin pressed down against my own. I could feel his pulse hammering against his veins.
Do it.
An ear-shattering roar cut the air, and for a moment, for a moment I thought I’d made a mistake.
But then it happened again.
My eyes were still on Darren as the ceiling creaked and groaned up above. They remained on Darren as the walls began to quake, as the pool splintered and the two of us staggered back, the ice shattering like a web.
His eyes were on the passage behind us. “Yours or mine?”
I heard my friends screaming at the top of their lungs: “No!” “Stop, Quinn!”
“Mine.”
The rebels didn’t need to kill the king; they just needed to bury him alive. And if I was a casualty? Well, sacrifices had to be made.
There was another boom and my pulse caught in my throat.
This was the part that I was supposed to accept, the part where I proclaimed my unrelenting devotion to Jerar. The hero didn’t fear death, and up until that moment, neither had I.
But, gods, here and now? Like this? Under a mountain of rubble instead of a quick blade to the neck?
I had blocked our only reasonable escape; my reserve wasn’t large enough to cast a way out the way we had come.
It isn’t “our” escape. It’s yours. Take advantage of the confusion and slit his throat.
The dagger was right there in my palm. Darren was distracted, staring out at his crown as it sunk into the dark waters below; it must have fallen during the first attack.
This is it. If I did it now, the rebels might even find a way to get to me in time. I might still live.
Another loud thud and I jumped. The first shard of ice hit the ground two yards to my left. It exploded apart, spraying my arms and legs.
Seconds later another followed.
My gaze shot to the ceiling just as a large chunk broke away. Right above our heads.
I couldn’t move.
Something hard clipped my side—Darren. It was all the warning I needed.
I started to run. Darren was already sprinting toward the western tunnel. The dark passage led to gods only knew—a dead end or escape.
It didn’t matter either way.
My mission was to kill the king. Wherever he went, I followed.
We were still running as thunder rained down from above.
Large spirals of ice plummeted like daggers to the ground, tearing their way into the earth. Snow and rock followed, splintering the walls.
We skidded along the passage as fast as we dared. Bleeding knees and crippled hands made every leap harder than the last. We ducked and dove in a maze of ice with a palm of light to guide the way.
The pain in my head was almost blinding. Again and again, I had to cast enough force to blast the parts of the ceiling that were seconds from crushing my limbs. And from the labored gasps up ahead, I could tell Darren wasn’t faring much better, if at all.
My legs ached. Every muscle was on fire, and I could barely feel my lungs save for the flames eating my chest from the inside.
The rebels had set an avalanche in motion, and it was only a matter of time.
Parts of the passage were colder, darker, impossibly narrow with jagged bits that reached out like jaws. My shoulder caught against something sharp, but I didn’t dare stop. I kept running with my arms tucked close to my sides, dripping blood.
And then, finally, just as I was ready to collapse, we reached a wide berth. A frozen riverbed scattered with bits of rock and ice that had already started to drop in the catalyst that set about the glacier’s descent.
Unlike the frozen pond from before, it wasn’t skylight that showed me the way.
There was a crevice in the wall across the pond. It was real.
We could live.
Darren sprinted across the stream, and I wasn’t far behind.
The whole place was crumbling down. The walls shuddered and groaned. Bits of ceiling crashed to the floor as the wind howled against my ears. And still I ran.
So close.
No more than two hundred yards…
My bootstrap caught on a rock.
I lost my footing.
And then I went down, crying out as my palms hit the ice. I landed on my bandaged hand and the world went red.
The ceiling above gave a terrible moan.
Get up. Move. Run. My nails dug into the ice, but I couldn’t get enough traction to stand. Panic and pain were making it impossible to project.
And as the shard came plummeting down, I shut out the world. My senses screamed, but, gods, if I were going to die, it wouldn’t be because I failed to cast.
The world spun as I reached down deep—to the girl who’d spent countless library nights in meditation and binding magic to her will. The girl who had almost won a Candidacy and beat Darren’s lightning head on. She had control. She wouldn’t fail me in this moment. She would control the pain.
And then that boulder-sized glacier exploded right above my head; I’d won.
Seconds later I was on my knees, coughing up blood.
A second explosion sounded just behind my back.
I spun, righting myself as I stood.
Darren was hunched over, his fist still in the air. And there was another bit of fallen ceiling, easily twice the mass from the first, yards from where I had fallen on the ground.
My gaze flew to the king and something twisted in my lungs. Did he just save me?
Darren turned on his heel and started to run. I limped after him. The cavern was still well on its way to collapse.
The king was only ten yards ahead of me when the closest pillar fell. I didn’t see at it first because my eyes were glued to the ceiling straight ahead.
The Black Mage must have missed it too.
By the time the noise drew our attention, the structure had ripped free of its foundation and was starting to fall.
Darren threw out his hands and a spark of violet flared out across his palms.
But then it flickered and stopped.
Why…?
My heart stopped in its tracks. He had used up his magic.
I stopped breathing as my feet took off and my casting went hurtling out.
“Nooooooo!” I couldn’t even hear my scream.
The column rammed Darren’s side and chunks of ice and rock exploded the second my casting hit the edge. But it wasn’t enough.
I was too late.
Darren went down.
His black robe flapped out like wings as his body hit the floor. He didn’t even try to rise.
My pulse beat so loud I could no longer hear the room’s collapse.
All I saw was the boy and the wall’s crevice fifty yards away.
This was it. The Black Mage had fallen. And I would live.
I wouldn’t even need to use a blade to take his life.
Run.
Run, Ryiah, run. My mind was screaming at the top of its lungs. The walls were quaking all around. Run.
Tears streamed down my cheeks as I stood, caught between the boy and freedom, between my life and everything else.
He’s a monster.
He’s not yours to save.
He’s dying.
He’ll never make it out.
Run.
My lips moved, but there was no sound. I was doing things with my hands, and then I was stumbling forward but not toward the wall.
There was a flash of light.
A violet hue as an amethyst globe appeared above us both. My casting quivered but held.
I sank to my knees by the king sprawled out across the floor. My vision blurred and my hands shook as I kneeled.
“You got w-what you w-wanted.” Darren’s chest rose and fell as he sputtered; his lips were stained with blood. “Your v-villain is dead.”
“But—”
“You fool.” Darren choked as he tried to sit up and swore, his face white as snow. Red seeped through the tunic covering his chest, bits of scarlet pooling underneath. “G-get out of h-here.”
“You saved me.” There was a blinding ache in my head. I could feel each time the casting trembled and shook. My projection was growing weaker with every second that passed, every time a bit of roof collapsed. “Why?”
How long would my magic last?
“D-didn’t save y-you.” He was struggling to breathe, and his words rattled in his chest.
Something inside of me snapped. Darren had never been in that second glacier’s path when we’d heard the explosion—he’d had no reason to cast.
Unless he’d been attempting to save me.
“Liar!”
Darren’s laugh was weak as he looked up at me. “S-so w-what if I a-am?”
It was like a blow to the ribs. I couldn’t breathe.
He swallowed.
“You h-have your a-answer.” The words were pained. “N-now g-go.”
The projection was splintering inside my head; I could feel it as every last strand snapped across space. So much of my world was awash in pain. So much of it was black.
You have your answer.
I did.
But I couldn’t leave.
I reached for the second strap at my arm. I felt the sting of cold metal as I slipped the blade from its sheath and plunged it into my bandaged hand.
Then I screamed.
I screamed as pain enveloped me whole. Needles stabbed along my spine and my mind roared out in shock. I screamed until my voice was hoarse.
Then the magic washed over me like a cloud of shadow, filling in the spaces traditional casting couldn’t hold. It kept the roof from caving in.
I kept the dagger centered as I opened my eyes. My whole body trembled, but I was already on the ground. Had I been standing, I most certainly would have collapsed.
I sucked in a sharp lungful of air, wondering how long my pain casting would hold.
“G-get out of h-here… p-please.” Darren’s voice was hoarse. My eyes flew to his, and in Darren’s… in Darren’s I saw grief.
My fingers shook violently as they brushed his wrist. “I-I can’t.”
His eyelids fluttered shut, and for a moment no one spoke.
“Y-you are g-going to die.” His face was more ashen than before.
My laugh was hollow. “I always was too reckless.”
The pain was mounting in my skull, like a bank gathering snow.
“P-perhaps they w-will… f-find y-you in t-time.”
His breaths were raspy and loud.
My fingers burrowed into his sleeve. I wanted the king to look at me. I was kneeling here on the ground, spilling blood as the last of my magic gave way to the last few minutes of our lives. I needed him to see.
Gods, if we are going to die together, I need him to see me.
I needed him to understand.
“They won’t.”
Garnet met my blurry eyes, and he swallowed.
“You’ve a-always l-loved me… d-didn’t you?”
I nodded, and something burned in the back of my throat.
“It w-was Blayne? A-all along?”
I didn’t have to ask what he meant.
“He loved you, but…” I swallowed as another wave of pain cut off the rest of my words. “…but he wasn’t the man you thought he was. Y-your father got to him too young.”
Darren turned away from me; his shoulders shook violently as he choked. He was seeing our past for what it really was.
Realizing what his actions had cost.
“Darren—”
“A-all t-that I-I’ve done…” He couldn’t look at me. “Y-you should… just l-leave m-me here to d-die.”
I shook my head violently until I realized he couldn’t see it. Tears poured down my face. “No.” My hand grasped at his wrist. “D-Darren… I…” Hysteria was mounting and making it hard to speak.
“Please l-look at me,” I begged.
His jaw twisted, and I could see the pain in every line of his face. It was worse than the pain inside my head. I saw a broken king.
“I should have t-trusted you,” I whispered. “I-if I had…” If I had, this wouldn’t have been us.
His hand trembled as he placed it on top of my own; it was icy cold.
“C-couldn’t have k-known.”
My heart was fighting its way right out of my chest. After everything, this couldn’t be it. This couldn’t be us. Anger, sorrow, guilt, and regret were rising and rising, and there was nowhere left to go.
“It’s not fair!” This wasn’t supposed to be how our story went. In fairy tales, the prince saved the girl. In mine, the princess destroyed him.
My shoulders shuddered uncontrollably, and I couldn’t stop from repeating the words. “It’s. Not. Fair.”
“N-nothing about us h-has ever been f-fair.”
He said it and I swear to the gods a part of me shattered. I felt cheated. I’d fought so hard for us, and now our story would be over. Before it could even begin.
“I…” Darren’s voice cracked and he shut his eyes, his lips thin with pain. “I-I w-wish…”
I stifled a sob in my throat, but it did no good. There were too ma
ny things unsaid.
We didn’t have enough time; we never would.
He was dying and my pain magic was fettering to an end.
The ground was covered in red.
Somewhere just beyond us, the cave gave a shuddering groan.
And then the final part collapsed.
An avalanche of ice and snow.
I fell back, releasing Darren’s hand as my magic screamed inside my mind. I could feel everything.
I was holding the sky in my hands, and it was all crashing down.
“…l-love y-you…” His voice seemed so far away.
I couldn’t even look at him; all I saw was white. My fingers were numb as they clung to the dagger in an effort to keep the world from falling in. But the pain, as terrible as it was, was not enough.
My magic wouldn’t last forever.
But then…
Then my fingers tightened against the hilt.
Darren struggled to breathe with ragged gasps and his chest convulsing.
This isn’t the end.
I inhaled as hard as I could, letting every bit of air fill my lungs as the sphere above me collapsed.
And then I plunged the dagger into my chest. Right into my beating heart.
I gave up everything I was.
I felt the kind of pain you can’t describe. The kind that takes your soul.
I made my last stand.
It was the kind of magic you died for.
I released my blood and my body and my magic to the gods as I gave the final casting of my life.
I gave my all… for him.
I only hoped it was enough.
I wasn’t a hero, but at that moment, I could be the girl I wanted to be.
I could save the boy.
And so I did. And as that last gasping breath took in an intoxication of violet and ice, I lost myself to the end.
And then?
I was free.
19
Last Stand (noun): a selfless act. The act of pain casting (see “Categories of Magic”) in its rawest form. To invoke so much pain it takes one’s life. This form of magic is reserved to only those with the ability to pain cast.
The power behind a mage’s last stand is only as good as its caster. The level of potency depends on one’s established stamina prior to the act. The magic invoked in one’s last stand isn’t inherently logical; however, if the person casting has developed a high level of control over pain in the past, they stand a better chance at invoking the casting they want.
Last Stand (The Black Mage Book 4) Page 28
