“This will not end well for you, Crowndan,” I said.
“It will not end well for her,” he replied, and pressed the blade harder to her neck. Zarah’s eyes widened, but she said nothing.
I laid Dauntless on the stone.
“Call off your army.”
“You will not kill my companions?” I asked, but it was a useless question.
“We will not,” he lied.
I willed it; one by one, they stopped fighting. But I did not will them to halt; instead, I willed them to wait. And then, when Crowndan surveyed the surrender, I caught my father’s eye.
With my hand at my side I spread my fingers as far as I could, then tightened them into a fist. Hold, and wait.
Father nodded, and lowered his sword.
Crowndan shoved Zarah toward me. We stumbled back, my feet sliding on the rocks. I heard the shattering shards tumble over the edge.
I hugged Zarah. “Are you hurt?”
She shook her head, and pulled away from me. “But I am sorry.”
“For what?”
“This,” she replied. With a hidden knife she slashed my arm, drawing blood. And then she shoved me into the rift.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
I fell.
My stomach dropped. I reached out, but I was too far from the crevice walls to grab hold. Zarah’s triumphant face grew smaller and smaller until it was obscured by the mists of the old magic. The old magic surrounded me, and when I breathed in to scream it filled me with its power. Time slowed, and through the mists I could feel a deep, angry vibration grow and grow, until it reached deep into my bones. It was a yell; a primal yell that stretched through all of the old magic.
Adhannor.
And then I landed.
The sharpest pain I had ever felt spread through my head and back and legs and arms all at once. The bones in my arms and legs splintered and punctured through skin and muscle. My spine and ribs cracked, and then I couldn’t feel the pain in my arms and legs anymore. I couldn’t breathe. And then I felt my skull fracture.
I stared up at the old magic that flowed around me, so thick and heavy that it blocked out the sky and the top of the crevice. Was Adhannor now killing my father and Dalandaras and Aerik and all the others? it didn’t seem to matter now. I waited for death.
But it didn’t come.
Mother did.
She knelt next to me, and took my shattered hand. The pain stole what breath I had left. I waited for the moment when the pain would take my consciousness, but it didn’t.
“Am I dead?” I managed to ask. My chest did not move as it once did, nor did my jaw, but I could speak.
“Not quite,” Mother replied.
“It hurts.”
“I know, pet. I wish I could kiss all your hurts and make it all go away, like I used to.”
“But it doesn’t work like that anymore,” I replied slowly.
“And I think you have a bit of a job to finish.”
I remembered then, who had pushed me over. “It was Zarah? Zarah was the traitor, along with Crowndan?”
“Yes,” my mother replied.
The pain of it struck me harder than my landing. “Bitch.”
Mother laughed. “Yes, she is.”
“What happens now?”
“Well, you have a job to finish. You’ve been given a reprieve, near as I can tell,” Mother gestured behind her. Tangled in the mists of the magic stood Adhanel, silent and watchful.
“It is not over, then?”
“Your friend miscalculated,” Adhanel replied. “This is not what Adhannor wanted from you. You still have a chance to defeat him.”
“When I’m broken like this?”
“No,” Adhanel said. “Not like this.”
“I’m sorry for what’s about to happen,” Mother said. “But if you thought the fall hurt...”
And then there was pain again. My back arched as my spine cracked back together again. Breath rushed into me as my ribs and lungs repaired themselves. The bones that had splintered and pierced outward righted and mended themselves. Muscle knitted back together and skin healed over the gaping wounds.
I would rather die than endure this.
Then it was over. Mother sat me up and stripped off my coat. I had soaked through it. The cold did not bother me; I had a feeling I would not need warm northern clothes anymore.
“You are of Adhannor now,” Adhanel said. “Zarah did not know that would happen. You have the advantage now. You will be able to defeat him. But you will need to reach your armies once more. It is no use to do battle down here.”
There was a great echoing cry, and the old magic trembled.
“You must go. Before Adhannor reaches you. He is searching for you.”
Behind her, the magic’s mist turned black and churned like a storm.
Mother smiled sadly. “You have a long climb ahead of you. We will stall Adhannor for as long as we can.”
“Will I see you again?”
Mother’s smile faltered.
“Adhannor still has a hold on her,” Adhanel said. “If you do not defeat Adhannor, he will always have hold of her.””
So Adhannor’s hold of her was no trick. I would end him for that alone.
Mother kissed my forehead, and I cherished it. “Go. Now.”
I stood, wobbling for a moment, before I turned from my mother and Adhanel and ran away from the growing taint. The sheer, dark walls narrowed in on me until I was shoulder to shoulder with them. Sharp rocks stuck out from the walls and tore at my clothes and hair. The ground angled upward in jutting slabs. Blasting jets of old magic came up though the ground as it fled Adhannor, tangling my feet in debris and my mind with the intoxication of the magic.
When I could go no farther, I wedged myself between the two walls and began to climb.
The black rocks cut deep into the palms of my hands, only for the skin to heal and then be cut anew. My old magic did not stop the sharp pain. My muscles burned as I pushed and pulled myself up. My head spun with the old magic that warmed my veins and flushed my mended skin.
Far beneath me now, on the floor of the rift, I felt the clash between Adhannor’s unclean magic and Adhanel’s warm powers. The old magic mists swirled in agitation around them. I yearned for my mother, but pressed upward.
Just when the climb seemed endless, I reached the top. The snow and ice hung over the edge. I dug my hands deep into them, searching for a solid rock edge. When I found one I gripped hard, and leveraged myself up. I flattened myself into the snow and scanned the landscape. I had come out at the very end of the rift. My companions had been rounded up a good distance away, and knelt in the snow. They were surrounded by a guard of undead and foulings. Crowndan and Zarah stood apart from them.
With the silence and invisibility afforded to Adhannor, I got to my feet and darted into the sparse trees. I went unnoticed, and made my way in a wide arc towards them. They were all alive—Father, Aerik, Dalandaras, Firien, and the others.
The bitch Zarah held Dauntless. I would kill her for taking that, too.
But even from a distance, I could see that she was drawing with a purpose.
I moved closer, sticking to the wider trees, wishing myself as invisible as I could be. I barely made a sound in the snow, and I did not make any footprints.
“Bastard,” I heard my father murmur. He was crying.
I would kill Zarah for that, most of all.
I knelt. Crowndan stood in front of my father, his sword drawn. “You would not understand,” Crowndan replied. Zarah kept on drawing in the snow. Neither paid any attention to the other
“You were like a son to me,” my father spat at him. “And you killed my daughter.”
Crowndan glanced at Zarah nervously, and said nothing.
She was the leader of the two.
Zarah’s movements grew short and jerky. She stepped carefully, not disturbing her handiwork.
She was drawing a seal.
“We should kill the
m,” Crowndan murmured.
“Not yet,” Zarah replied calmly. “Wait for the Lord.”
He leaned close to her, a closeness that spoke of intimacy. Whether the elves could hear them, I did not know, but I could. “The Lord will not be pleased you killed Eva.”
“Your precious Eva?” she asked, though her tone was one of amusement. She kissed him. When he leaned in for more, she left him with only a light peck. She stepped backward. “She was of no use to the Lord.”
Crowndan followed. “If she was not,” he asked. “What use are the elves and Lord Baradan and the sailor?”
They both stepped into the seal.
“They are not of use to him,” she replied. Then she ran Crowndan through.
My twinge of pity was brief as his eyes widened in shock, but that was all I could afford him as he slid to the ground, his blood staining the snow a vibrant red. The blood flowed into the design that Zarah had carved out.
“What was his, is now mine,” she said in the old tongue, her words uneasy and disjointed. She was not the other inheritor – Crowndan was. Had been. But she had learned enough of the language, and now was stealing his powers. She was trying to become something she wasn’t. She wiped the blade with her bare hand, and smeared Crowndan’s blood in a long line down the side of her face. “His life is mine; his magic is mine; his power is mine.”
She was mad.
The old magic swelled, and swelled strong. It knocked Zarah off her feet, and the elves recoiled from the spell. Zarah’s body arched as she inhaled the new magic.
When it was done, I could feel the disturbance of the magic now within her. She rose to her feet, gasping for air. Her eyes were wide and she swayed, drunk on the power that she had taken in.
“Clear his body,” she ordered the abhorred, and two did her bidding. “Bring me the prince.”
Dalandaras fought against the corpses that grabbed him. My rage grew, until my fingers gouged deep into the bark of the tree. Zarah would not claim him.
I stepped out from the trees and into the open. “Zarah!” I screamed with all of the power of the old magic that I possessed. She spun, and her eyes widened. What did she see? Did I look like what I had been in my vision? Did I look like Adhannor’’s counterpart, crowned and cloaked in the old magic? I felt as if I was cloaked in it, as if I could have reached out and struck at her from here, were my companions not in-between us.
The foulings and dreadwolves growled. I called up my army again. My colossi and my abhorred, my guardian and the woman leader of the undead, appeared again where they had fallen. Colossi formed from ice and rock, and the abhorred rose up once more from their graves.
Zarah snarled.
Foulings and dreadwolves growled low, and attacked. With inhuman cries, abhorred went after abhorred. And I turned to my former friend, the only person from Winter’s Crown I had felt close to, and prepared to kill her.
“Come and get me,” I taunted.
She raised my mother’s sword against me, and charged. I met her at the same speed. She brought my mother’s blade down on me and I used my own arm as a defense. There was no time to wince as the blade cut down to bone. With the sword in my arm I grabbed her hand, twisted it, and with my other hand I balled up my fist and punched her in the face. Bone crunched beneath my knuckles. She fell backwards, blood flowing from her nose.
I removed my sword from my flesh and held it up. “This belongs to me,” I said with quiet rage.
She scrambled back in the snow. “What are you?” she demanded.
“Something you can’t ever be,” I replied.
She spit at me. I charged again. She drew her own sword and parried, kicking out and rolling away. She was to her feet before I reached he again, and we brought our blades down against each other.
“I am the new inheritor,” she said angrily.
“You cannot steal these powers.”
“Can’t I?” And she pushed back at me with a taint of her own. It hit at me as Adhannor had once hit, striking me in the head and sending me reeling back. My own blood dripped into my eye, and kept flowing. I did not heal against the taint as I had against a long fall and sharp rocks.
Half blind, I reached out for aid. But it was my father, not any supernatural being, who came to my help. He had reclaimed his greatsword from the abhorred who had stolen it, and attacked with the ferocity of a warrior who had been peaceful for too long. Zarah may have been the daughter of a knight, but she was no match for a seasoned commander.
But Zarah was filling with her own taint. She was not using the old magic; the old magic was using her. And slowly, my father had to defend himself.
Firien came to his defense, his own magic circling around him like a shield.
My guardian and the woman leader of the abhorred freed my companions from their bondage. Aerik and Dalandaras came to me, helping me to my feet. They both embraced me, Aerik wiping my blood from my face.
“No time, no time,” I said.
“You’re alive!” Aerik cried.
“I’ll tell you later,” I kissed him on the cheek. “I promise.”
“I’ll hold you to it,” he said, his voice thick.
I squeezed Dalandaras’ hand, and he nodded at me. I turned back towards Zarah. Firien fell under Zarah’s uncontrolled blows, and Father rushed to defend him. I charged, and deflected her blow just as Father stumbled.
I summoned all the old magic I could grasp, and attacked. I ignored any need for defense, and swung wildly. I struck, and struck, and struck again, until Zarah was forced farther and farther back, and she tripped over her own feet. With a burst of power of her own she pushed back. But instead of using the opening to attack, she turned and ran into the trees.
I ran after her, but foulings came to her defense. A pack of five blocked my way. They circled low, their jaws snapping. And then they charged.
An elf’s arrow flew past me and into one’s eye. It squealed and curled into the ground. I reached into the old magic. With a gripped hand I imagined slamming them into the ground, and then made it happen. But it only worked for two, and one caught my arm in its jaws as I struck out with my sword. I couldn’t in a scream as my flesh tore, and pushed my blade through the last one’s throat.
I slammed the one that had me into the ground, cracking its skull against the rock. It held on still. I slammed it again, bones crunching. The old magic seeped out of it and left it limp.
Father charged forward, and with his greatsword beheaded the ones that I had pulled to the ground.
The sky darkened anew. The ground shook so had even the colossi stumbled.
“Stay together,” I said, and Father and I ran to the elves. “Stay together!”
My guardian came again, and with colossi as guards we gathered together.
Adhannor came up, roaring wildly, from the rift. Carried by his own unclean, storming taint and tangled with a magic I recognized as Adhanel’s, his more solid form landed hard, the ground cracking and splitting beneath him. His smooth elf features gave way into the crippled ghost that he had been when I had first encountered him, before they smoothed over once more and he rose, tall and proud.
“Evalandriel,” Adhannor said with the power of the old tongue.
“Adhannor,” I replied stepping out of the safety of the colossi. “You should have had more trustworthy servants.”
“As yours are?” he replied, and I heard a cry.
I spun, and saw my father keeled over, at the mercy of a fouling that had broken through the guard. Before the colossi could help, they were attacked in turn by dreadwolves.
“No!” I screamed, but Adhannor’s magic lashed out at me. My feet were swept out from under me. Dalandaras was there to counter the fouling’s attack, and I raised my sword against Adhannor’s outreaching tendrils. I sliced through them, and they disappeared into smoke. He reached and caught my throat in his clawed hands. I cut at his arm, but like myself the blade stopped at bone. Black spots formed in my vision.
&nbs
p; Dalandaras cried out, and broke from the group. Adhannor slashed at him, and caught the elf’s face with his nails, digging deep into skin. The old magic boiled within me. I grabbed Adhannor’s wrist, and burned it.
Adhannor screeched, his eyes wide, and he dropped me. I gasped in what air I could and scrambled to Dalandaras. He swayed, his eyes unfocused. Eliawen and Lorandal came for him and I handed him to them, before I turned quickly to Adhannor once more.
“Your allies are your weakness,” Adhannor said.
I went for him. I felt Adhanel then, what it was to have her serenity and power. I focused it all into my body and my blade, and called forth fire and light. They came to me, and darkness gathered in him. He conjured a sword of darkness, and raised it against mine.
The strength took me by surprise, and I fell to my knees as I deflected his blow.
Zarah charged me from the side.
Adhannor’s spell broke, and I lashed him with a tendril of burning old magic. He cried out and fell back. I turned to Zarah. She was drenched in sweat. The old magic burned too hot within her. Her swing was wild, and I slashed at her, catching her face and shoulder. She cried out, but kept to her feet.
Adhannor rushed in anew. But his attack was not towards me. He backhanded Zarah.
She flew far, skidding across the snow. She was going to fall into the rift.
She saw it too, and dug into the snow for a hold. She slowed to a halt, right at the edge of the crevice. The ice edge collapsed beneath her shoulders. With a yelp she pulled herself forward, until she was fully on land.
Adhannor ignored me, and turned his attention to Zarah.
She scrambled to her feet, her breathing ragged. “Lord?” she asked tentatively.
Adhannor said nothing.
“Lord?” she asked again, taking a step forward.
“Inheritor,” he replied with contempt, and held out a hand.
She let out a relieved breath, and rushed to him. “Lord,” she murmured, and knelt before him. She trembled as she kissed his hand in supplication.
Adhannor grabbed her by the throat, and hoisted her up. She thrashed and gasped, but it was no use.
I felt pain for the friendship that I had thought had been there, and for the life that was being lost. “You should have known that you could not bargain with Adhannor,” I said quietly.
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