The Darkest Magic

by Morgan Rhodes

  “Valoria and Cleiona killed her,” said Maddox matter-of-factly. “Yet Valoria denies she had anything to do with her murder. Is Cleiona solely to blame?”

  “Don’t you dare say that name again,” Barnabas growled.

  “What name?” Maddox asked. “Eva?”

  “No. The name of the southern goddess.”

  “Why not?”

  Barnabas groaned. “Camilla?”

  Camilla cleared her throat. “Well, there are rumors, you know. She is the goddess of fire and air, and some say that with air magic as powerful as hers, she can hear the sound of her name no matter where, when, or by whom it’s spoken. This is how she comes to know her enemies.”

  Maddox had never heard this rumor before. Then again, it was forbidden to publically discuss the southern goddess in the North.

  “All right then. I’ll never say her name again,” he agreed. “But please tell me more about what really happened to Eva.”

  Camilla sighed, but not unkindly. “No one knows exactly who was responsible for killing her. But it is rumored that, at almost the exact moment of her death, she uttered a prophecy.”

  “What prophecy?” Maddox prompted when Camilla went silent.

  A moment passed before Camilla continued. “She allegedly foretold that, in a thousand years’ time, her magic would be reborn in the form of a mortal sorceress. It’s said that Eva was by far the most powerful immortal of them all—a truth I’m sure Valoria’s scribe would like to scrub from history—and for that reason she was the envy of many of her kind. When she found herself with child—a half-mortal child—some say that the pregnancy made her . . . vulnerable.”

  All this information—whether it be rumor or truth—had made Maddox’s head start to spin.

  “I should have protected her,” Barnabas growled.

  “How?” Camilla’s voice turned harsh. “With your bow and arrow?” She scoffed. “You weren’t much more than a child yourself at the time, Barnabas. And you did what you could. You must stop blaming yourself.”

  “Never. She’d lived thousands of years before she met me. If it wasn’t for me, she’d still be alive.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “I do. I know it as well as I know I’m the greatest hunter Mytica has ever seen.”

  Maddox had heard this lofty claim enough times to know not to argue with it.

  Barnabas turned to Camilla, his expression tense, his fists clenched. “All of this talk of the past reminds me. Do you still have it?”

  Camilla raised her chin. “Yes,” she said, her tone empty of the confusion that had suddenly gripped Maddox.

  “Right now? On your person?”

  “I always keep it with me. Just as you asked me to.”

  “Show me.”

  She blinked. “Are you sure?”

  He nodded. “I want to carry it with me now.”

  “My hope was that all those years of traveling overseas would help you find some peace. But it seems that isn’t the case.”

  “There can be no peace as long as those two monsters rule this land.” Barnabas stopped, turned to Camilla, and held out his hand, palm up. “Please.”

  “Very well,” she sighed. She tucked her hand underneath the neckline of her blouse and, after a moment’s fishing, pulled out a gold necklace strung with some kind of charm or pendant. She unfastened the delicate chain, removed it from around her neck, and placed the necklace in his outstretched palm.

  It was only exposed for a moment before his father closed his fist around it, but that was long enough for Maddox to catch a glimpse of the pendant, which looked like a brilliant purple stone in some kind of golden setting.

  “What is that?” he asked.

  Barnabas tucked the necklace away in one of his many well-hidden pockets. “A ring that once belonged to Eva.”

  Maddox’s heart skipped a beat. “May I see it?”

  “No.” Barnabas’s jaw tensed, and he glanced at Maddox. “Apologies—I don’t meant to sound so harsh, but . . . not now. Perhaps someday, but not now. All right?”

  A hundred questions about Eva and Barnabas appeared on the tip of Maddox’s tongue, but the fresh look of grief on Barnabas’s face at seeing her ring again for the first time in ages made him back down.

  “All right.”

  “Thank you, Camilla,” Barnabas said.

  “You won’t be thanking me when the nightmares begin again.”

  Barnabas arched an eyebrow. “Oh, I’m sure there’s some kind of a potion to cure that.”

  “There is,” Camilla said. “It’s called ‘wine,’ and it’s being administered free of charge all across this kingdom for the rest of the year.” She winked at him, then returned her attention to Maddox. “Never mind old Barnabas. He gets morose when he reminisces. Back to the more important matter at hand: your birth mother. She was a brave woman. Legend says that she survived many battles and hardships, including the wrath of her twin brother and the destruction of her original world, and was only made stronger for it.”

  “Wrathful twin brother?” Maddox said. “Are any of the immortals actually kind and peaceful?”

  “More legends,” Barnabas said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “What brother? She never mentioned any wrathful twin to me. Let alone anything to suggest that immortals have ever had another home besides a massive crystal city in another world where, I assume, they are to this day.”

  “Granted, I know very little about your relationship with her, Barnabas, but my impression was that all that passion you two shared didn’t leave much time for long conversations about life and family.”

  “We had plenty of time to talk,” Barnabas said against a tense jaw.

  “Anyway, Maddox, to answer your question: It would seem there are very few immortals who are kind and peaceful, which is said to be the fault of Eva’s twin. For every ounce of beauty and goodness that Eva was blessed with, legend says that her brother was cursed with just as much of the very opposite. He was a demon, who, with no weapon other than his dangerous, mystical words, brought destruction and chaos everywhere he went. Some say he was created from ice and darkness and that whatever he touched turned to endless winter.”

  “Ice and darkness.” Barnabas rolled his eyes. “Sure.”

  “So where is this horrible immortal sorcerer now?” Maddox asked tentatively.

  “The immortals rose up against him and killed him. It was the last thing about which they were all in agreement.”

  “How do you know all of this?” Maddox asked.

  “Witch legends,” Barnabas bit out. “Passed through generations of those who feel they’re connected to the immortals by blood and magic.”

  Camilla grinned. “True enough. But that doesn’t make these legends wrong.”

  “It doesn’t make them right either.”

  “The goddesses are immortals . . . ,” Maddox said quietly. “Does that mean they’re as powerful as the ones who live in the crystal city?”

  “No,” Barnabas said. “The goddesses stole the magic they possess. They’re nothing more than common thieves.”

  Maddox took a moment to consider this. “The same stolen magic Valoria used to mark that assassin, so he could resist my magic.”

  A solemn silence settled between the three for a moment as they continued to make their way away from the village where they’d spent the night with two more days of travel ahead. Maddox looked up at the clear sky, shielding his eyes from the sun, and watched a bird soaring overhead. An eagle or a hawk, he thought.

  “Yes, that seems to be the case,” Barnabas finally said, his tone troubled. “I was not aware that she had that ability.”

  “But it wasn’t enough. He chose to run away rather than stay and fight me. He knew he wasn’t strong enough to survive my magic, let alone stop me. I’m going to find him. And when I do . . .” Maddox set his jaw into a tense block of pure resolution. “I’m going to kill him.”

  Barnabas stopped, turned, and grabbed Maddo
x by his shoulders. Anger flashed in his eyes, taking Maddox by surprise.

  “You are going to kill no one,” he growled. “Do you hear me?”

  Maddox glared up at him. “Why shouldn’t I?”

  “Have you ever killed anyone? Ever used your magic to kill anyone? Pushed, shoved, choked, made unconscious, yes—you’ve done all that very well. But killed?”

  Maddox’s chest tightened. “No. Not yet.”

  “You are not a murderer, Maddox. You must never kill. Not ever.”

  Barnabas had never made less sense. “How can you say that? You told me yourself what my magic made me—I’m a necromancer. My magic is death magic. Killing is one of the few things it lets me do.”

  Barnabas’s expression grew haunted. “When I first found you, you were nothing like what I expected. I’d expected you to be . . . darker. Empty. Because wielding dark magic blackens the soul.”

  Maddox was about to laugh; just the idea of a soul made “black” by a certain kind of magic was preposterous to him, but Camilla spoke before he could even crack a grin.

  “It’s true, boy,” she said. “I’ve seen it happen to witches far less powerful than you, who’ve foolishly tried to strengthen their naturally given powers with blood magic. No matter how good your heart is, that kind of dark power will turn it black, cold, and shriveled.”

  The urge to laugh had passed entirely. Maddox thought back to when he’d used his magic, to when he’d really channeled it for the first time to strike unconscious a guard who’d been about to execute an accused witch. The most vivid thing he could remember about it—other than his victim’s dull and lifeless appearance—was the sensation of a cold darkness rising up inside of him.

  Even now, he wasn’t sure if he’d been scared of it or if he’d liked it.

  “So, what then?” Maddox said in the most biting tone he’d used in days. “We just let Goran get away with it?”

  “No,” Barnabas said. “Just like you, I plan to find him. And when I do, I’ll kill him myself. Don’t worry, I have no death magic to corrupt my already shadowy soul.”

  “Then the matter is settled,” Camilla said, her kind smile returning. “Now, let’s focus on finding the goddess’s scribe so we can torture some information out of him, shall we?”

  • • •

  When they finally reached the palace, they found they were among at least a thousand other visitors, all milling about in the royal square.

  The massive palace—a monstrous masterpiece of black granite set into the rocky cliffs—cast a jagged shadow over the crowd.

  Maddox nudged a tall man jockeying for space beside him. “What’s going on?” he asked.

  The crowd began to cheer.

  “The goddess is about to make a speech,” the tall man said, nodding his head up toward a balcony chiseled high into the granite palace.

  Maddox drew his hood closer around his face and looked up at the forbidding palace from their position at the back of the crowd. He had barely a moment to register the vast impressiveness of the craftsmanship when a flash of crimson appeared against the backdrop of blackest granite. It was the goddess, gliding out onto the balcony in a brilliant red gown. Her shining ebony hair cascaded over her shoulders, falling down well past her waist in waves. Even from a distance, Maddox could see the sharp and vivid boundaries of her dark red lips and emerald green eyes.

  Unsmilingly, she raised her hand. The crowd went silent.

  Maddox chanced a look at Barnabas, who glared up at the goddess with hatred in his eyes.

  Valoria began to speak. “Much gratitude for your presence today, my citizens,” she intoned, her voice smooth yet menacing, like honey poisoned with venom. “I grow stronger through the presence of each and every one of you.”

  The crowd chimed with respectful hollers of appreciation. She smiled, and Maddox wondered if he was the only one who thought it looked more like a grimace than a grin.

  Valoria waited for the crowd to hush before going on. “I’m sure most of you have heard by now that I’ve decided to extend the commemorative celebrations until the end of the year.”

  The crowd broke out in cheers, this time more joyful than reverent.

  Valoria’s smile slipped. A flash of annoyance flickered over her lovely face. Suddenly, the ground began to tremble, the shaking quickly evolving into a rippling earthquake. The violent waves of stone and earth made their way across the square, knocking hundreds of people off their feet and injuring several others.

  Camilla grasped hold of Maddox’s arm to remain on her feet. Barnabas simply glared up at the goddess, his fists clenched at his sides. He then sent a quick, concerned glance at Maddox. “You all right?”

  Maddox nodded. “For now.”

  The brunt of the quake passed, but the ground still shook with a buzzing tremor.

  “Silence!” the goddess commanded. “I’ve more to say.”

  The battered crowd—now moaning and sobbing instead of cheering—went silent in an instant.

  The ground went still, and Valoria’s smile returned. “My decision to extend the celebrations is in gratitude to you all for your loyalty to me these past fifteen years. Today is a special day, for it is the day that I shall finally bless my kingdom with an official name.”

  Valoria gazed down at her cowering, injured people. “Two words can express the way I rule this land: strength and wisdom. Limo and rossa, in the language of my people. And so this is why I have chosen to use my reign and my power to rename Northern Mytica . . .” Valoria paused here, allowing a sense of drama to hover over the square. Then, with a smile more insidious than Maddox had seen on her yet, she delivered her pronouncement. “Limeros.”

  The crowd below was motionless, silent. Maddox looked about to gauge their reactions, but all they did was stare, waiting.

  “You no longer have to remain silent,” she announced with an arched brow.

  The crowd erupted in a forced, whining cheer, while Barnabas just narrowed his eyes with even more hatred.

  Maddox scrunched up his nose. “Strength and wisdom? That’s what Limeros means?”

  Barnabas sneered. “For a woman who forces chastity on her people and values only abnegation and piety, she truly is the vainest person I’ve ever known.” He let out a groan as the people once again policed themselves into silence. “Oh my. It seems as though she’s not done yet.”

  Indeed, the goddess was still on the balcony, poised to go on. “I spoke about the importance of loyalty,” she said, pacing the balcony as if to make sure everyone below her knew she was talking to them. “Indeed, there is truly nothing I value higher. Without trusted mortals at my side, without devotees who unquestioningly obey the commands that keep our kingdom fed, clothed, and housed—why, I could not rule at all. Over the last several days, some events have transpired that have tested this theory and proved that it has never been more true. It has recently come to my attention that one of the mortals I’ve come to trust more than anyone else is planning to betray me. His plot to rise up against me and in effect our entire kingdom has come to me in a clear vision of prophecy. As a suspected traitor, he shall be beheaded here today.”

  Barnabas and Maddox shared a furtive look. Of all the things they’d prepared to do today, witnessing a public beheading was not one of them.

  “Before the execution begins, I have another announcement to make. In light of this and other suspicions of betrayal, I have called for the immediate arrest of any and all witches who are breaking the law by practicing magic in this kingdom. It has come to my attention that there are many more of these women than any of us previously thought, and we cannot tolerate their poisoning presence. Therefore, I am offering a reward for information that leads to the arrest of suspected witches and those accused of helping to house or protect these evildoers.”

  Maddox shot a concerned look at Camilla, who gazed back at him with a smile. Her face was calm and resolute, but Maddox knew he saw alarm in her eyes.

  “Now,” Valor
ia said. “Bring out the prisoner.”

  Quiet commotion rustled through the crowd as three men—two uniformed guards flanking a restrained man wearing fine but soiled clothing—emerged from the palace. The two guards walked the restrained man to an execution platform constructed underneath the balcony, where a masked man waited before a heavy black block.

  “Oh no,” Camilla murmured.

  “Goddess,” the man cried out, straining his neck as the guards forced him to his knees behind the execution block. “My radiant, beautiful goddess! Please, don’t do this! I did not betray you—not now, not in the past, not in the future. I swear it—it must have been someone else you saw in your vision! I am nothing more than your humble servant. Please, forgive me for this crime—a crime that no one has yet committed!”

  Valoria regarded the man coldly. “My decision is final,” she said, then nodded at the masked executioner. “Remove his head.”

  The masked man took up his ax with a steady heave. The man continued to plea, and as the ax began to fall, Maddox looked away. Finally, mercifully, the man ceased his desperate cries.

  The body was quickly carried away, but the man’s head was mounted upon a tall spike on the platform: a warning for all to see.

  Some looked up at it with solemn expressions, others with fear.

  Barnabas winced, then turned to Camilla, speaking in a whisper. “Camilla, who was that? Did you recognize him?”

  “Yes,” Camilla said. She sighed heavily. “That, I’m very sorry to say, was the goddess’s scribe.”

  Chapter 6

  CRYSTAL

  They were only a block away from the art gallery when Crys stopped and grabbed her mother’s arm. “You’re sure about this?”

  “Crys, we’ve already discussed this.”

  “I know. But . . . you’re still sure that you’re sure?”