“I am certain,” I insisted.
“This place is disturbed,” Firien murmured as we crossed the beach and into the ruins proper. “It has not settled after yesterday’’s battle.”
I felt it too, the little extra sense that prickled the hair on the back of your neck and sent chills down your spine.
“I feel something,” Father replied. “Though I don’t know what it is.”
“We’re being watched,” I said.
Father started to draw his sword; I placed a hand on his arm. “It is not Adhannor.”
“Then who?”
And then I saw the men. What was left of their spirits, anyway. Miners again, and a merchant. They were faint, though it was not from the sun’s brightness. I had the impression that much stronger magic had been attempted this time, and there was not much left of them to sustain their living image.
“The ghosts are here,” I said. They were not crying for help or looking at me with pleading eyes. What personalities had been there in life had been erased. They were no longer what they were when Adhannor had worked his magic.
They are waiting, the four ghosts said as one, the tones of their voices holding an otherly echo.
I didn’t know who “they” were, but I was certain it didn’t refer to the bodies of the men. “Then lead me to them,” I replied.
“Is that wise?” Father asked.
I didn’t answer, but followed the ghosts as they headed away from Adhanel’s palace and deep into the ruins of the city.
“We will be fighting blind if Adhannor is close by,” Firien said.
“This is not a choice,” I replied, and followed the ghosts.
We did not head towards the mountains or into any underground cave, but into the heart of the city. We approached a large, domed building. The dome had cracked down its middle and half had fallen into itself, the piece of solid stone balancing delicately with the support of half of the dome and the wall. The ghosts slipped through the walls. I walked carefully to the two entrance doors. The snow was deep here, and even Dalandaras and Firien sunk into it with each step. My boots slid against hidden stones and whatever remained of the city square that had been here before Singael and Adhannor had sundered it. Firien had to assist my father and I took Dalandaras’s hand, and we managed to make our way towards the domed building.
The doors were open but a crack, and it took all four of us to dig at the snow and pull one open enough to enter. Firien and Dalandaras slid in first, and Father followed me in.
It took a moment to adjust to the semi-darkness after the blinding glare of snow.
It was a huge, arching space. There was just enough room for several people to walk shoulder to shoulder around the perimeter before there was a canal of liquid, the same liquid that had been in the ruins at Winter’s Crown. Then there were five huge statues. They depicted the colossi that Adhannor had been using against us, as smooth and devoid of feature as their shape was in life. We barely came up to their knees. They were evenly spaced and faced the center of the room.
“Do not pass the barrier,” Firien warned, kneeling next to the liquid.
“We’ve already encountered one like it,” Father replied.
I slowly started to circle the room. The room was an altar without an altar. The four bodies of the poor men were in the center of the colossi. It had not been a pretty death; they were contorted in pain, their stomachs split open, their dried blood smeared over the stone floor. The floor was covered with the same design of circles and writings.
I reached across the barrier and touched a statue. I could feel the hum of forgotten power in the stone.
“What are they?” Father asked.
“We are not certain,” Firien replied. “I always thought they were simply statues. If Adhannor or Singael knew, they have kept the secret with them.”
“You do not feel it?” I asked.
“No,” Firien replied. “Feel what?”
But how to describe the warmth and depth of time long forgotten that flowed through me when I could barely describe it myself? “They are graves,” I said instead. “Of sorts.”
“Of sorts?” Father asked, his hand on the hilt of his sword.
“They are more like the memories. Memories of creatures that could not die. That cannot die.”
“We fought those things,” Firien said. “They are not to be trifled with.”
“We fought pale imitations,” I said.
“I do not like this,” Dalandaras said.
I stepped across the barrier and between the statues, and into the circle where the men had been slaughtered.
“Don’t—” Father started.
I was blinded by light, and seized by a force that stole the breath from my lungs. I could feel the presence of hundreds—thousands maybe—of watchful, considering eyes on me. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and if I could have, I would have run away.
After a moment, a minute, an hour of those considering, judging eyes on me, I was released from the grip, and found the stone beneath my feet again. But I wasn’t back in Tal Anor. I was…elsewhere. It was the same shape and form as the colossi’’s temple, but Father and Dalandaras and Firien were absent, and I could not see any walls or boundaries beyond the forms of the colossi.
Lady, a thousand great voices echoed around the room, filling my ears and rattling my bones. But it was as much a question as a statement.
“Who are you?” I asked.
Where is the Lady? they demanded.
“There is no Lady,” I replied. “Only me.”
Are you the Lady?
“Am I supposed to be?” I asked.
There is always a Lady.
Adhanel’s ring suddenly weighed heavily on my finger. “Then I am your Lady,” I said in the old tongue. I held up my hand, and let Adhanel’’s ring catch the light. “I am atoning,” I said in the old tongue. “For the sins of those who abuse you now.”
The statues were no longer statues, but colossi. And more appeared behind them, until I was surrounded by thousands that seemed to go on and on into the darkness.
Lady, they seemed to say as one, and their gigantic forms slowly knelt.
“You have been mistreated,” I guessed. “And for that I apologize.”
Lady, they repeated. I had to stop myself from cringing as their deep voices resounded in the in-between space.
“I am sorry that I and my people have had to strike at you.”
Lady.
“I will defeat Adhannor,” I said with more certainty than I felt. “But I need your help.”
We are yours, they said.
And then I was back in the domed building and the circle, on my knees next to the four bodies.
“Are you all right?” Father called.
“It is safe to enter now,” I replied. My voice was strong, and after a moment I realized that I was strong, too. I could feel the power of the colossi flowing through me. Adhanel’s ring was a warm weight on my finger.
“What happened?” Dalandaras demanded. “You were frozen stiff, and we could not enter.”
“I have never seen that happen before,” Firien added. “What on earth was it?”
“I had a bit of a meeting,” I said. “The result is that the colossi will no longer be serving Adhannor.”
“And how have you managed to do that?” Father asked.
“I am Adhanel’s heir. The colossi are meant to be bound to her bloodline; Adhannor took them by force.” I looked to the bodies of the men that had suffered for it. It was a twisted blood magic that had stolen the colossi from Adhanel and enslaved them to Adhannor.
“What was your word for the fire?” I asked Dalandaras.
“Thaeglir,” he replied as he lit a torch and handed it to me, and I could feel the slight stirring of power behind it.
“Thaeglir,” I repeated as I touched the torch to the first body. With all the force of the colossi behind it, the body burst into a roaring fire. Father and the elves cring
ed away from the white heat of the flames, but I did not. I didn’’t need to. I repeated it with the others, until they were all alight
This could definitely be useful against Adhannor.
As the flames receded, I found Firien staring at me. “Lady,” he said reverently, and knelt.
“Get up!” I demanded. I had more than enough creatures doing that to me, and I didn’t need to add any of the elves to it.
“Lady,” Dalandaras murmured, though he did not kneel.
“What does this all mean?” Father asked.
“I don’t want to think about it.” I wanted to go home, to Port Darad. I wanted Mother back, alive and breathing. But none of that was going to happen. Not now. And right now, I had to worry most about Adhannor.
“We will have to,” Father replied quietly.
“Later,” I said. “Not here. Not now.”
A faint whistle disturbed the quiet.
“Malarin,” Firien said, alert.
Then came two short whistles.
“They’ve sighted someone.”
“It’s not Adhannor,” I murmured. “I cannot feel him.”
“Who, then?”
A growl came from outside, low-throated and cutting.
“A dreadwolf,” Firien said, drawing his sword. “Stay back.”
“More than a dreadwolf,” I said as the colossi’s essence cringed away from what was approaching us.
It had been a wolf in life, of that much I was certain. It was a huge beast, but not a muscled one. It stood tall but was thin, its white fur matted with blood and innards of whatever unfortunate animal it had encountered. But its eyes were clouded and lifeless and a great gash split its neck, so that its growl sounded as much through its throat as its mouth. It was dead.
“Aim for the neck,” Firien murmured. “Sever the head from the body.”
Father drew his sword, and the resurrected dreadwolf lunged. Firien charged towards it and dodged the snap of its crooked jaw, slicing at its neck. Another dreadwolf ran past the first, aiming straight for Father. He had certainly seen battle before, and proved it by swinging his broadsword and, in one deft stroke, cleaving the dreadwolf’s head in two. It struggled as it collapsed to the floor, its legs kicking futilely as it tried to right itself, before the magic that had resurrected it faded away.
Firien knelt by his decapitated dreadwolf. “This is a clumsy magic,” he said. “But clumsy is still dangerous.”
“It is not Adhannor’s magic,” I said. “It does not have its taint.”
“Then it must be the other inheritor,” Father said.
I ran outside, and saw the cloaked man retreating into the city. A pack of twenty resurrected dreadwolves spread themselves out through the city, sniffing through the buildings, making their way towards the shore and the boat.
I dodged to the right before the dreadwolves could spot me, and ran parallel to where I thought the cloaked man was hiding. I spotted the swirls of snow stirred up in his wake, and kept that trail in the corner of my eye. He was clumsier than I was in the snow; whatever powers he had gained, they had not grown as mine had.
Behind me, I could gear the growls of the dreadwolves and the calls of the elves as they met on the beach.
I ignored any twinge I felt about leaving Father and the others behind. Not when the cloaked man was within reach.
I spotted the swirl of white fabric. He didn't blend in like the elves did. I ran up to the roof of the ruins, jumping over cracks and fallen gaps. Then I was running alongside him, pacing him. He veered close, and I pounced.
I caught him by his hood, dragging him to the ground. There was a flash of golden hair. Before I could bring my sword down, he pulled from my grasp and jumped up, drawing his own blade.
Crowndan.
There was satisfaction that revelation, and yet a sickness.
His sword had not been for show - he was a fighter. I was barely to my feet when he struck out and I parried, then lashed back at him. We were both on the offensive, clashing equally as strongly against each other. There was little time for either defense or a killing blow as we chased each other deeper into the ruined city. I could not find time to grab my old magic and force a killing blow. The walls grew taller and seemed to loom over us, casting blocking the bright sun and the noise of the battle.
And then the ground gave way.
My stomach clenched in fear as the snow and stone disappeared beneath my feet, and I was cast into darkness. I landed hard, striking solid ground with my hip and ribs. Pain sliced through my elbow, and then I felt nothing.
I came to slowly. The world was a blur of white and blackness. Even my nocturnal sight seemed to fail me.
I heard a man’s groan, and then one of my own as I tried to sit up. Every part of my body started to throb.
The light came from above, casting a beam onto the gray stone floor. I could just make out low-lying, elongated stones sitting in orderly rows. I had fallen in a tomb.
I remembered Crowndan, and scrambled across the floor for Dauntless. I brought it up just as Crowndan brought his down. I kicked out and sent him sprawling.
“Hello Crowndan,” I said as I got to my feet.
“Hello Eva,” he replied with a grin.
“The proper form of address is ‘my lady’,” I corrected. “You do not have permission to use my given name.”
His grin disappeared. Good.
“My father trusted you, you know,” I said as I slowly skirted the room. I pictured my protector and took comfort in the slow swirl of power.
“I know,” he shrugged.
“On the other hand, I'm not at all surprised. Was this your plan all along, then?”
“You know how the ruins can draw a person to them,” he said. “It’s intoxicating.”
“Then why pursue me?” I asked. “Why not free Adhannor on your own?”
I lashed out at him with the old magic, and sent him sprawling again. But as I raised my sword he lashed out with his own power. It was weak, but stung nonetheless. I fell against a tomb, my already throbbing elbow slamming hard into the edge. “And how did the murder of Sir Aros fit into this plan?” I said as I retreated between the graves and caught my breath.
His brow furrowed. It lasted only a moment, but it was enough. He hadn’t known Sir Aros had been killed. Which meant that he didn’t do it.
Crowndan had a partner. And that partner wasn’t sharing things with Crowndan.
And I left everyone defenseless against them.
Out of the corner of my eye I spotted stairs, and ran.
I took them two at a time. Crowndan’s footsteps were close behind mine. I sprinted down a straight hallway, and found myself back in the room of the colossi. I jumped the boundary into the circle and then out to the other side. Just as Crowndan skidded into the center of the colossi I pointed to the liquid and whispered: “Thaeglir.”
The liquid set alight, racing around the colossi and Crowndan, the flames tall and strong.
Crowndan cringed back until he was in the very center.
“Colossi, protect me!” Crowndan said in the old tongue, tripping over the words.
Nothing happened.
“It won’t work,” I said triumphantly. “Not anymore.”
“It matters not,” Crowndan replied. “They are not my master’s only creatures.”
Outside, Zarah screamed.
I left Crowndan to the flames and ran outside.
There was more than dreadwolves now. There were foulings, reanimated as the dreadwolves had been, and corpses of elves long dead, whose rotted flesh hung from bones. But the old magic made them strong enough to hold swords and spears and bows.
Guardian, I need you, I thought to myself, and I found my lady warrior beside me. “I need the colossi’s help as well.”
My guardian nodded, and I felt my own magic drawn from me. Without word or motion, the colossi formed around me. Like the one that had came to my attack, they formed of snow and ice and rock, but instead o
f chains, they were now simply lines of power that glowed golden with the strength of the old magic.
A dozen colossi looked to me for orders. “Help my friends,” I told them. “Servants of Adhannor are attacking them. And then we will march against Adhannor himself.”
Lady, I felt the rush of power behind their words. And then they were off across the ruins, their heavy steps rumbling the ground and shaking snow from the stones as they hunted for the dreadwolves and foulings and the dead men. I followed with my guardian.
The dead seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere, elf and animal alike. My guardian mirrored me as I cut them down. I felt on fire, as if little flames pricked at my body, and each seemed to come from a colossi. I was with them, all of them, my awareness tugged in a dozen different directions at once. The creatures I faced were insignificant with the colossi as my allies.
My guardian and I came to the beach. My companions had been separated into to groups by the incoming horde. It was a battle of endurance, not strength. For I could feel the elves' magic striking as surely as their blades and arrows, and the creatures would go down for a time, but the others soon came to take the place of the fallen. Only the aide of the colossi seemed to stem the tide.
I searched for Aerik and Father, and found them with Firien and Nogoriel. Aerik labored hard but the foulings and dreadwolves snapped closer and closer to him.
But where was Zarah?
I scanned the beach, and found Zarah retreating into the ruins, striking at an elf creature who pursued her. And then a cloaked figure appeared on the ruins above her.
Crowndan had escaped the flames. And he was advancing on Zarah.
Clear me a path, I thought in the old tongue, and the battle seemed to part for me as I raced through it. The Colossi used themselves as shields, turning so that they were between me and the rotted foulings and dreadwolves as I passed by.
“Zarah!” I shouted. “Look out!”
She turned, and spotted Crowndan.
A colossus knocked a fouling from my path, and blocked Crowndan and Zarah from my view. When I could see them again, they were locked in battle.
Zarah lashed out wildly, screaming all her rage. Crowndan struggled to parry, then found his footing and struck back.
Winter's Crown Page 19
