Planeswalker

by Chloe Adler

  Japheth turns sideways, hovering outside the leaded glass. Arch leans forward to pull his sweatshirt off and over his head. He wraps it around a fist and punches the window, which cracks. Whatever wards the fachan has put in place around Vasily are missing here.

  Arch pummels the window with his fist and I slip from the jarring force, sliding off the side of the beast. Bodhi lunges for me, his hand locking around my upper arm at the last possible second. Arch freezes, having felt me slip off behind him, no doubt.

  “Get through the window!” yells Bodhi.

  Arch slides his leg over the horse and kicks at the glass, finally dislodging it, but Bodhi’s grip is slipping.

  I shriek and scrabble, trying to grab him, but gravity makes it impossible. Now would be a great time for up to switch with down, Tara.

  Arch launches himself through the window and reaches out for me. Bodhi looks down, catching my eye.

  “You’re going to make it,” he wails over the wind, sleet and rain.

  His grip slides toward my elbow and I shake my head. He lunges across the horse, reaching his other hand down to clasp me under my armpit. Bodhi swings me toward the window.

  “Reach out with your legs. Arch is there to catch you.”

  One swing, two, three but no one grabs them.

  “We’re an inch shy. I’m going to have to swing you and let go.”

  “No way!” I scream over the rushing wind. “Bodhi, no—”

  But he’s not listening, he’s swinging me and my arm feels like it may dislodge from its socket. I close my eyes and reach back with my legs as far as I can.

  He lets go.

  Chapter Fifty

  I fly through the air like a cannonball, certain that I’ll either miss the window entirely or Arch won’t be able to grab me. It’s a moment of pure trust, like those schlocky trust falls they made us do at school, except this one could end with my death. My eyes are screwed shut and though I’m not one to pray, I start, begging Tara for help. So many thoughts slam through my head in a matter of seconds. The fact that I do indeed trust Arch—and Bodhi—but more than that, I’m deeply in love with them. All four, in fact, and Vasily too. And if these are my last seconds of life, I’ve had a great one, filled with the love of five stellar men. With that thought, Arch’s hands clutch at my ankles, pulling me into the window and catching me so I don’t land facedown on the hard, cold, stone floor.

  “That was close.” Arch rights me and pulls me in for a very long hug.

  I nuzzle into him, my heart pounding out of my chest and through the thick castle wall.

  “Is she okay?” Bodhi yells through the open window.

  “She will be,” Arch yells back.

  I give Bodhi a little wave and attempt a smile.

  “The weather is too crazy for me to attempt a jump,” he says. “Take care of our maiden.” The wind wails at his words, pelting him and Japheth with so much ice they veer away.

  “Let’s get going.” Arch takes my hand and leads me toward the door of the room we’re in. I barely have enough time to look around and take in all the cool castle décor. The walls are made of a dark stone etched with the marks of time. Weapons of all shapes and sizes are affixed to the walls, displayed like family photographs in a modern Earthside home.

  Although I assumed at first we’d landed in a bedroom, there is no bed. The only furniture is an elaborate, blackened stone chair.

  I cross to it, running my hands over the back. A small electrical current plays across my fingertips. Nothing shocking, the sensation almost pleasant. Protruding from the back of the chair is a smallish sword. It’s stabbed clean through to the front. I shiver. Talk about saving your seat. No one would be able to sit here and not be cut. I’ve never seen anything like it. The handle itself sparkles bright, almost blinding me, and a shimmering pink light dances up and down the bright silver blade. It calls to me and before I know it, I’ve wrapped my hand around the hilt. It melds to my grip, becoming an extension of my arm. The sword loosens and I pull it out, holding it up to the ceiling so I can admire the gems lining the part of the hilt my hand doesn’t cover. There’s a strong field of power here, emanating through me. Oh, what stories this sword could tell.

  I’ve never used an actual sword before but holding on to this one, it’s almost as if I had been born with it attached to my hand, as though I’ve always been a swordswoman. Arch stops and stares, his mouth open.

  “What is it?” I ask.

  “That sword.”

  “Um, sorry. I guess I shouldn’t have touched it—” I dive for the chair, ready to slide it back in, but the slot is just . . . gone. Okay, that’s odd. Maybe I can just rest it against the chairback and no one will notice.

  “No one’s been able to pull it out of that chair, ever.”

  “Ha! Like Excalibur,” I giggle.

  “Exactly like Excalibur.” He’s not laughing. “It’s the sword of Sanne. Vasily’s twin sister was the last to claim it. The woman it was forged for, the sword’s namesake, put a spell on it before she died. Only a worthy woman, true of heart can wield it.

  “Who was she? Sanne?”

  “An ancient ancestor. One that was born and died generations ago. The sword is close to two thousand years old.”

  On earth, nothing so delicate would have been forged two thousand years ago.

  He looks away, setting his so jaw tightly the sides bulge. “We have to move. Bring it.”

  I hold up my arm, looking closer at the undulating pink and white metal of the sword. Do I have a choice? Did I choose the Sword of Sanne, or did she choose me?

  Arch removes a large broadsword from the wall, heaves it over his shoulder and pulls open the door. I skip to catch up, my own sword light as a feather in my grip.

  As soon as we hit the hallway, items begin flying through the air—at our heads.

  Chapter Fifty-One

  “Duck and run,” Arch bellows as if I need to be told that.

  It’s as though an indoor tornado has hit and items careen straight for our heads. A candelabra, followed by a modern day table lamp. Dead plants, tapestries and even cutlery swirl around us with dangerously sharp edges.

  Arch swats each article out of the air like a medieval baseball player, a heavy clang resounding with each contact. I hold my sword out, prepared to use it as a fly swatter, but to my surprise it works like a shield, keeping flying objects from hitting me without touching them. I wave Sanne around my head and together we make our way to the stairs. As we mount, they start to shake. They’re made of stone and I’ve no time to think about how this could be physically possible.

  “That’s Tara,” I mutter.

  Arch reaches for my hand and yanks me onto the step next to him as a huge vase smashes onto the step I just occupied. Arch vaults up the stairs without letting me go, and I trip and stumble after him, the vibration of the stones escalating.

  “Amaya.” He lifts and throws me up several more stairs when the staircase creaks, then cracks between us. Separating us.

  “Arch, no!” I cry out, reaching out with my free hand, as if that will do anything. The lower half of the staircase snakes away from me and Arch leaps into the air, sword extended . . . right at me.

  I yelp and scrabble up a few more stairs just as with an ear-piercing screech his sword penetrates the stone where my feet were a second earlier. He uses it to haul himself up and I descend to give him a hand, but he shakes his head, jutting his chin upward. I use Sanne as a walking stick, planting her to steady myself as the castle-quake continues.

  When I stagger onto the landing, Arch is by my side, throwing an arm around me a second before a large metal urn smashes into his head. He sags against me but doesn’t let go.

  “Arch, let me lead. Sanne is like a shield. She won’t let anything hit me.”

  His hair flames around his face as he meets my gaze. “Do it.” His voice is strained, softer than I’ve ever heard it.

  I throw my arm around his waist, raising the sword
in front of the two of us. Debris bounces off an invisible shield, clattering to the floor and falling down the castle steps.

  “Let’s get to Vasily.” He wipes his forehead with his sword hand. It comes away red.

  “You’re bleeding.”

  “No matter, it’ll get worse than this if we don’t get to the king.”

  He’s right. I thrust Sanne in front of our faces and wonder why we aren’t getting hit from behind. Guess it works in 360?

  Holding on to each other, we climb the second flight but when we get to the top, I look to Arch for help. “Which room is he in?”

  Arch points down the hallway. “That one, at the end. It faces the front of the castle.”

  When we reach the door it’s locked. Arch motions for me to step aside, grabs his broadsword with two hands and swings it against the wood until it cracks.

  When we bust through, the king is crouched by the window. He sees us and runs to me, gathering me in his arms and showering me with kisses. “Arch, you shouldn’t have taken her inside the castle. It’s too dangerous.”

  “Hey, big guy, you’re welcome.” I smile up at him and he pushes my hair out of my face, kissing me hard on the lips again.

  Arch rushes to the window and slams the hilt of his sword against it, but the glass doesn’t shatter.

  “Amaya.” He reaches a hand toward me and I meet him in front of the window. “Vasily, take her other hand.”

  The king looks at my hand, still clutching the sword, and gasps. “The Sword of Sanne? But how?”

  “It called to her. Grab her elbow. Quick.”

  The way Vasily looks at me when he takes my elbow . . . there’s reverence there I’ve never seen before. It’s almost worshipful, and a little distant, like he’s putting me on a pedestal as I watch and I don’t like it. I don’t deserve it. Pulling Sanne free was luck or good timing, it doesn’t mean anything.

  Arch reaches his free hand to the window, pressing his palm against it. “Aperta finestra.” And with an audible click, the window swings open. Arch grins like he’s won the lottery, but there’s no time for celebrating the evidence of his magic returning.

  Japheth hovers outside the window and Arch jumps out first, landing on his back with a thud. He reaches back for me.

  “You go first,” I say but Vasily grabs me by the waist and hauls me out the window.

  “Not a chance,” he growls in my ear.

  Arch reaches for me and I stick out my free hand, Sanne clutched tightly in the other. The wildling grabs me by the elbow and hoists me in front of him, then reaches for Vasily.

  It takes the two of us to steady the mount in the raging wind and hail. Arch grabs on to the window frame and I help Vasily climb out. The abada dips when the king adds his weight. Japheth cries out as he plummets from the sky. The wind howls, rain and sleet pounding down on us, but the creature keeps us aloft just a few feet off the ground and glides out over the lake and into the cover of the forest.

  When we arrive back at the forest’s edge, Bodhi, the dryads and the sprites are all waiting for us.

  “They did it!” Paxil flies at us and lands on Vasily’s shoulder.

  “Tell us you imprisoned Azotar,” demands Capatani.

  We exchange looks and then shake our heads.

  “We didn’t even see it,” I say. “But it wasn’t in a solid form the last time I encountered it.” I shiver at the thought of those black tendrils wrapping around my face and body. Bodhi and Arch wrap their arms around me, a much better sensation. “Maybe it hasn’t really escaped, or maybe only part of it has.”

  The men exchange looks.

  If I’ve learned anything here, it’s that anything is possible.

  “Is that . . .” Zuri flies closer to my sword hand.

  “The Sword of Sanne,” says Vasily, “yes.”

  “But how did she . . .” Zuri flies around the sword as the other dryads and fairies talk in hushed voices.

  Arch clears his throat and they stop whispering.

  “Maybe she can use the sword to round it up and we can put all of it back where it belongs, inside that monolith,” says Zuri.

  “Better yet, we work together to set it free,” says Vasily.

  “What? Sire, you can’t possibly mean to set it free. It’s turned our physics upside down, menaced our people and wreaked havoc on the land. And it kidnapped you!” Zuri flies in a tight circle, her wings whipping so fast they send a breeze across my face.

  “But if we set it free,” Vasily clears his throat, “we can get it out of Tara. And everyone will agree to that end.”

  After a tense moment, Zuri bobs her head. “You’ll need the lot of us for that maneuver.” She casts a furtive glance at the dryads, who are squabbling amongst themselves again.

  “Let’s talk about this later,” says Bodhi.

  Arch stabs his sword into the ground with one hand. “Bodhi’s right, there’s nothing we can do about that situation right now, but with our powers returning we may have more options soon.”

  “It’s a start,” I say, smiling up at them.

  Arch levels me with an intense gaze. “It’s because of you.”

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  With hands clasped to form a circle deep within the forest of Calixto, I’m able to planeswalk with my three men, and when we open our eyes, the four of us are on the floor of Vasily’s atrium on Earth.

  The men don’t want to let go of my hands, Arch on my right and Bodhi on my left. My hand feels empty without Sanne but the men convinced me to leave her behind. Vasily was unsure if her magic would be stripped here or if we could even cross with her. He was right; the chance for a botched transport with another unknown thrown into the mix was too high. I wanted to do something dramatic and cleave her through a proper rock, like Excalibur, but I had to settle for the base of a massive tree. I wasn’t convinced until all three men tried to pull her out and couldn’t.

  The four of us incline our heads, looking out the glass ceiling and blinking our eyes against the bright daylight filtering down from above.

  “Colors here look so dull after returning from Tara.” Vasily sighs and my throat tightens at the wistfulness in his voice.

  No matter how much I want him to belong to our world, he never will.

  He lets go of the men’s hands. “We’re back,” he bellows and his voice bounces off the open room, carrying up to the second floor and deep into the house.

  Less than a minute later Candy’s silver tresses float over the metal railing above.

  “You’re home,” she shrieks, flying down the stairs. “I’ll tell the others.” She flies past us and into the dining room to an intercom.

  Sabin descends the stairs after her and kneels next to Vasily, head bowed. “Glad to see you safe, my king.”

  Vasily touches the man’s shoulder and he rises, moving to shake each man’s hand and offer me a hug.

  Moments later Candy returns, and after that a sleepy Cedar and Forrest descend the other staircase. There are hugs all around. Forrest and Cedar hug me last and when I’m wrapped up in their arms, they squeeze me and don’t let me go.

  “We missed you,” they whisper simultaneously into my hair.

  “We all missed you, ho.” Jules’s voice slices through the moment like Sanne through wood, and I let go of the men to approach her.

  Our eyes lock but she doesn’t step forward to hug me.

  “You stayed here again, waiting for me?”

  She shakes her head. “You’re my girl. Of course I did.”

  I throw my arms around her and pull her tight.

  “Besides, who else was going to keep their eye on that new skanky bitch they brought in behind your back?” she whispers.

  I pull back. “What?”

  And that’s when I see her, descending the stairs that lead up to my wing. Raven hair, long and gleaming, skin like a porcelain doll’s, dark blue eyes flashing and lips so plump and pink, one can’t be held responsible for the thoughts they inspire. The men
turn to watch her too. She’s arresting, I’ll give her that.

  Betty.

  Every cell in my body vibrates with the urge to yank out those perfect ringlets . . . that I’ve seen somewhere once before.

  * * *

  The End

  Author Musings - Stream of Consciousness (Unedited)

  The process for writing Planeswalker was a slow and painful one. I’m finding that I light up with the first book of each series, they practically write themselves. I let the characters reveal themselves to me, I spend quality time with them in the shower, while driving, sitting at my desk and while walking my dog. I let the characters permeate my being. I let them develop and grow, like well loved bamboo.

  And then I set them free onto the pages and into the world. Amaya Reynolds downloaded into my head one dark and dreary day in December, three years ago. She appeared with her name, her background and her strengths. At that time I had just made my first Chloe Adler website and I put up a little blurb about her, explaining that she was a human in the Edge who had to grow up living in the shadows of the powerful Signum.

  Since inventing Distant Edge I spent hours thinking about the world, its inhabitants and the politics. My first series, Love on the Edge, focuses on the Signum themselves. I delve into their lives, loves and problems. But there was always the question, what’s it like to live in this world as a human? The lowest of the low in this particular caste system, besides werewolves, which were thought to be legend and then just misunderstood.

  It’s always been rumored that humans born in the Edge have magical abilities and Amaya was my vehicle to explore that. How many of us have thought we had nothing to offer this world only to discover that we couldn’t be more wrong?

  We each have our gifts. They probably aren’t magical (though I won’t rule that out