by Martha Carr
The halfling looked over her shoulder to see Eleanor approaching Bianca’s bedside again, then she stepped through the shimmering window of light into Persh’al’s warehouse.
“You okay?” Ember muttered.
“Yeah, Em. I’m just wondering if we’re even ready for this.”
Corian shot her a sharp look. “Don’t tell me you’re worried about missing one of your classes.”
“Fuck my classes. This is my mom. I’m talking about us. The terms for Ba’rael. Everything we thought we still had ten days to prepare for.”
“I can tell you Venga has been very helpful.” Corian peered around the main room of the warehouse as small lights clicked on in corners and over makeshift beds. “Trust me, kid. We’re as ready as we’ll ever be.”
“Anyone wanna explain why the hell you’re throwing a party at two-thirty in the fell-damn morning?” Lumil grumbled, pushing out of a sleeping bag beneath Persh’al’s computer tables. Her yellow hair was plastered over her eyes, and she smacked it away with a floppy hand. “What gives?”
“Time to move on the Heart, goblin.”
“Very funny, nightstalker. Try that joke again when it’s not the middle of the night.”
The door to L’zar’s small box of a private room flew open with a bang, and the drow thief stormed into the center of the warehouse. “What happened?”
“It’s Bianca.” Cheyenne forced her voice into a volume resembling reasonable and swallowed. “The curse is getting worse.”
“It’s scarring her, brother.” Corian tapped his chest. “With the four-pointed star now too.”
L’zar’s golden eyes widened, and he cast his daughter a sharp glance. “Then it has to be now.”
“Yeah, that’s why we’re here.”
“And you’re ready?”
Cheyenne puffed out half a breath in disbelief and shrugged. “As soon as you hand me what I need to push Ba’rael off her damn throne, yeah.”
“Good.” He looked her up and down, then clapped his hands together. “Everybody up!”
His voice boomed through the warehouse, magically intensified to a volume that made the bare lightbulbs hanging from the ceiling sway and dust rain down on the cement floor. All around them, the rebel magicals camping in Persh’al’s warehouse roused themselves out of sleep.
“Endaru’s balls, L’zar!” Persh’al half-climbed, half-fell off the sagging couch against the wall behind his computer table. “It’s too early for—”
“It’s time, Persh’al.” L’zar nodded. “We’re moving up the turning of the new Cycle to tonight. Cheyenne needs all of you, so pull your shit together and fulfill your vows as they were meant to be fulfilled.”
Byrd snarled and slapped both hands on the cement floor before pushing himself unsteadily to his feet. “I knew you were impatient, drow, but this is—”
“This isn’t about me.” L’zar ran a hand down his face and turned slightly away from the others, then gestured at Cheyenne. “Ask her.”
“It’s about Bianca,” Cheyenne muttered. “The Crown’s curse got worse. A lot worse. We have to bring Ba’rael down now before my mom—” She swallowed and couldn’t finish the sentence. That’s not gonna happen, Cheyenne. Pull your shit together and make sure that doesn’t happen.
Ember put a hand on the halfling’s shoulder and gave it a little squeeze. “She’ll be okay. We’ll make sure she’s okay.”
“I know, Em. Thanks.”
Corian stuck his phone back in his pocket, and two seconds later, Maleshi appeared through a portal. “How you doin’, Cheyenne?”
The halfling shook her head. “How do you think?”
“Good. If you said you were prepared for this, I’d think you’d lost your mind.”
“Not sure I haven’t.”
A low growl rose from the corner of the warehouse opposite L’zar’s room, then Venga’s hunched form rose from a pile of thin woolen blankets. He saw everyone gathered on the warehouse floor and snorted. “And here I thought I would have to wait.”
“Not anymore, old friend.” L’zar smoothed his hair away from his face and nodded, staring at the cement floor. “Which portal will you take?”
Venga chuckled, hiking up his loose jeans with two scaly hands and scratching viciously under an armpit with a third. “You say that as if there were a shortage of options, Weaver.”
“Technically, there is.” Maleshi folded her arms. “The portal leading into the Heart was destroyed, and the portal ridge the Bull’s Head used as a smuggling port is still down. I checked.”
“So, no more secret portals to Ambar’ogúl.” Cheyenne rubbed her forehead and turned in a tight circle. “Look, I know it was a sore topic last time because L’zar was with us, but now he can’t make the crossing again. Our only option is one of the reservations, right?”
The warehouse fell silent. Then Venga burst out laughing and slapped the scaly belly showing beneath his unzipped leather jacket. “Indeed!”
Ember pressed her lips together and stared at the scaleback. “Like I said, total mad scientist.”
“I find it very amusing, fae. The organization trying to keep all us magicals in line, trying to keep us away from the Border, is the very same institution that will fall if we do not deceive them for this.”
Byrd snorted. “More like you’re gettin’ off at the idea of stickin’ it to your jailors. Am I right or what, scaleback?”
Venga grinned, his forked tongue flickering between his lips. “Perhaps that plays a part in it. A small part.”
“So, which rez will it be?” Cheyenne asked. “The only one I really know is Rez 38.”
“It’s as good as any.” Corian sniffed and stepped away from the group to summon a portal into the FRoE regulated reservation for O’gúleesh refugees from the other side.
Only this time, we’re the ones hopping across that portal at the edge of a cliff. That’ll be fun.
“Cheyenne.” L’zar turned halfway to her, his golden eyes roaming everywhere but her face, and crooked his finger. “A moment, if you will.”
“Sure.” Cheyenne exchanged confused glances with Ember but followed her father to the other side of the warehouse. “What is it?”
“A few necessities for your journey. If all goes according to plan, I imagine this will be your last crossing for quite some time.”
“Well, nobody’s exiled me with a curse just yet.”
“Yes. Very funny. Wait here.” He darted into his tiny bedroom in a blur of white and gray, then reappeared in another burst of air where he’d just stood. “The Darkglass, of course. We went through a bit of trouble to procure this.”
Cheyenne cocked her head. “Just a bit.”
A humorless chuckle escaped L’zar as he lifted the O’gúl case of black metal and glass to her. “I took the liberty of making it travel-sized for you. It’s what this device carries that’s important.”
She reached for the miniaturized Darkglass with both hands and couldn’t help but stare at the pulsing white light suspended at its center. “That’s the metal star you made of—”
“Neros’ magic, yes.” L’zar bowed his head as he released the device. “Our little visit to your cousin wasn’t everything I’d hoped it would be, but it wasn’t fruitless, either.”
Cheyenne swallowed and turned the Darkglass over in her hands. “What do I do with this?”
“Ah. Think of it as an O’gúl voodoo doll.” He gave her a thin-lipped smile. “Significantly more advanced but essentially the same premise.”
“You’re telling me to torture Neros with this thing?”
“No, no, no. This is blackmail, Cheyenne. With everything else in your favor, I should think it highly unnecessary for you to use the Darkglass. Ba’rael will know what this is and what it does. You won’t have to say a thing. Just make sure she sees it.”
“Okay.” Cheyenne tucked the shrunken Darkglass carefully into the pocket of her trenchcoat and shrugged. “What about the terms?”
&nb
sp; “Yes, of course.” Clasping his hands behind his back, L’zar bowed his head and cleared his throat. “There’s the Darkglass, naturally. And the fact that we found her son before she realized he could be found. Tell the Spider she is to step down immediately and remove herself from Hangivol, never to return. The rest of our world is fair game for her after that, though it’s a fitting punishment for her crimes in many ways.” His lips twitched into a morbid smirk. “She hates Ambar’ogúl almost as much as I do, and she has far fewer friends.”
Cheyenne blinked at her father. “It took you a week to come up with that three-item list?”
“Hmm. Be sure to mention the last Nimlothar in the Heart. She receives no alms from that tree, Cheyenne. That must be made perfectly clear.”
“No touching the tree or taking anything from it. Got it.”
“And be sure to offer her Nós Aní the option of remaining in Hangivol as part of your council once you turn your new Cycle.”
Cheyenne frowned. “Who’s her Nós Aní?”
L’zar’s characteristically sly grin spread slowly across his lips. “Ruuv’i.”
“Seriously? The other drow?” She shook her head. “I thought he was her husband or something.”
“The O’gúl equivalent of it, yes. Surely it doesn’t surprise you that my sister would bind another drow to her for eternity, both by magic and by law. He’s the father of her child, Cheyenne, but as her Nós Aní, he can never rule as the O’gúl Crown.”
“Christ. And Ruuv’i agreed to that?”
“He had little choice in the matter. As part of your terms, you will be offering him a rather weighty decision.” The drow thief stroked his hairless chin and tilted his head from side to side. “If I had to put money on it, I’d say Ruuv’i will gladly accept the new Crown’s offer to remain in the only home he’s ever known without Ba’rael commanding his every move, and that will isolate her. She won’t roll over easily or quickly, Cheyenne. Be firm. Don’t give her an inch, no matter what kind of tantrum she throws.”
Cheyenne snorted. “Guess that runs in the family too, huh?”
“Hmm. Among so many other things.” He looked past her at the magicals gathered around Corian. “And don’t forget, you have Venga with you now. If he doesn’t put the fear of the dead in Ba’rael Verdys’ already rotting heart, nothing will.”
“Okay. And that should be enough?”
“That is everything I can offer you on such short notice and without my physical presence.” L’zar tried to smile again, met her gaze briefly, and ducked away almost as if it hurt to look at his daughter. His throat clicked when he swallowed. “I will be with you in spirit, as the saying goes.”
“I sure as hell hope not.” She pointed at him and raised an eyebrow. “No Don’adurr Thread while I’m trying to overthrow a drow dictator. Got it?”
“With perfect clarity.”
“Okay. Thanks.” She eyed him, but the drow thief merely bowed his head and took a step back. What did I expect? It’s not like he’s gonna give me a fucking hug before I leave. Cheyenne turned to Corian and the others, feeling the weight of the Darkglass in her pocket like she’d filled her jacket with stones instead.
“Aranél.”
She stopped at the sound of her unwanted title spoken by her father. Raising her eyebrows, she slowly looked at him over her shoulder. “Weaver.”
L’zar lifted his chin and met her gaze. His golden eyes blazed with determination and a seriousness she’d seen there only a few times. “This is your birthright. Your bloodright. You are the blade that will cut out the rot. The chains will shatter, and blood and water will flow through Ambar’ogúl again as one. Don’t forget that.”
Cheyenne pursed her lips. “Somebody’s been paying too much attention to prophecies that don’t belong to him.”
Her father chuckled softly, his nostrils flaring. “What else would you expect from a thief?”
“Nothing.”
Before she could turn her head again, he stepped urgently over to her and stopped, his need to protect her at war with his knowledge of what lay ahead. “You are the heir to everything I am, Cheyenne, just as you are the heir to everything I am not. Surviving this final stage is a greater legacy than all the rest of it. If nothing else, claim that.”
He can’t just come out and say it, can he? Cheyenne nodded slowly, trying to hide a smile that forced itself onto her lips anyway. “A simple ‘good luck and don’t die’ works pretty well, you know.”
His eyes widened in surprise, then his low, dark chuckle built in the tense silence of the warehouse. “Good luck, Cheyenne. And don’t die. Please.”
“That’s the plan, Weaver.” With a final nod at her father, Cheyenne joined the other magicals waiting to make the crossing with her.
Ember bumped the halfling with her shoulder. “You okay?”
“Totally.” Cheyenne shot her friend a sidelong glance. “Let’s go pull down the Spider’s web and blow some shit up.”
Lumil let out a low whistle. “Damn, halfling. If that’s the last morale-boosting pep-talk I ever hear before an epic battle, it’s not half bad.”
“It better not be the last.” Just the first. Guess I’m a better leader than I thought. But I can lead like this from anywhere, and it sure as hell won’t be the Heart of Hangivol.
Corian’s portal shimmered in the air in front of them, and they stepped through into the night on the other side.
Chapter Eighty-Four
The bright lights mounted on the exterior walls of the black metal outbuildings on Rez 38 took some adjusting to. Cheyenne blinked against the glaring halos and stepped lightly away from the portal inside Q1.
“We are going to the cliff,” she whispered, slowly raising her hand to point at the massive portal tower of black stone at the back of the reservation. “And then we cross.”
“Let’s be quick about it.” Corian crouched beyond the pools of light, and the group of magicals snuck through Rez 38 without a sound.
The instant Cheyenne’s foot pressed down on the trampled dirt two feet away from the base of the portal tower, a crack like a snapping tree trunk split the air, and three massive floodlights illuminated Q1. An alarm siren blared from the gate tower by the reservation’s entrance, followed by shouted commands and footsteps thudding across the ground toward them. Doors slammed, fell weapons withdrew from holsters and clicked into place, and the first floodlight swept across Cheyenne and the rebel magicals sneaking onto the rez.
“Breach!” a guard roared. “By the tower!”
“Shit.” Cheyenne broke into a jog and snarled, “Guess a quick, quiet crossing was too much to ask.”
“Get to the cliffs,” Corian growled as the guards’ rising shouts grew louder and closer. “We’re not here to hurt anyone.”
A fell charge crackled through the air just in front of the nightstalker’s face before crashing into a stunted tree on the other side of Q1. The bark exploded in a burst of green light, and Corian rolled his eyes.
“But if we have to, we will.” Lumil smacked her fists together and summoned the swirling red runes around them both as they ran. More fell weapons fire filled Q1 with green light, and the magicals darted between buildings and away from rez guards trying to stop them.
“Just keep moving!” Cheyenne ducked a spray of fell shots and raised a shield in front of Persh’al and Ember as they ran behind her. The green fell shots ricocheted off it, and a guard somewhere screamed.
Lumil threw her head back and cackled when two guards cut them off at the opening between two outbuildings.
“Hands up where we can see ‘em!”
“You mean these?” The goblin woman raised both fists in the air and dove across the dirt, sliding toward the guards like a batter sliding into first base. Her right fist cracked into the first guard’s ribs and sent him flying into his fellow. Without missing a beat, Lumil leaped to her feet and kept going. “I’ve been wanting to do that for decades!”
Maleshi and Corian d
arted across the dirt in flashes of silver light, tossing startled guards aside to give the rest of their party a clear shot to the cliff. Cheyenne raised another shield beneath a heavy spray of fell shots and shoved aside a stack of metal crates with a toss of her other hand. The crates flew out of their path and cracked open against an outbuilding, spilling FRoE weapons and dampening gear across the dirt.
Ember stopped when a guard jumped out at her from behind the next outbuilding and trained his fell rifle at her chest. The goblin guard snarled when he saw a fae hovering two inches above the ground.
“It’s not that weird!” She flicked her fingers at him with a flash of violet light, and the guard’s yellow eyes rolled back into his head before he dropped. “We should all be used to magic by now. Fuck.”
The siren blared louder as the rebels fled to the edge of the cliff.
“Stop them!”
“Bring ‘em down!”
“They’re going for the portal!”
Green fell fire whizzed through the air. Cheyenne raised a shield behind her, stretching it as wide as she thought was necessary for all eight of them. Her feet skidded to a stop at the edge of the rugged ledge of gray stone jutting past the portal tower and over the crashing waves of the Atlantic Ocean below.
Ember stopped beside her, breathing heavily. “So, where’s the portal?”
“Down there.” Cheyenne grinned at her friend and shrugged. “Leap of faith, right?”
“Kowabunga!” Byrd leaped off the cliff, his arms flailing as he vanished into the darkness.
“The fuck?” Lumil slowly shook her head and jumped off after him.
“This is it, kid.” Maleshi winked at Cheyenne and stepped nimbly over the side.
Persh’al snorted. “I hate heights.”
He disappeared just as Corian jumped into the Border portal.
Venga roared with maniacal laughter and shook all four fists at the star-studded sky. “Blood and honor, or the deathflame take us all!”
Grinning, he slapped Ember’s back and sent her tumbling off the edge of the cliff with a yelp. Then he flicked his forked tongue at Cheyenne and jumped.
