Shadow & Flame

by Mindee Arnett

“In part, yes,” Kate replied. “But also Edwin’s death, and the magic of the uror that had resided in him.”

  Goddess power, goddess magic. Corwin rubbed at the old scar on his chin, the pain of his brother’s death still fresh. He pushed the grief aside to focus on the why of it. “That would explain the containment spell. Rendborne must’ve known that Hellsteel would destroy any magic that came in contact with it.” The Hellsteel by itself seemed benign. Many people had held the weapon, including Harue and Yaron, and both retained their magic.

  “But what about Magnar?” Tira said, sliding a foot in the stirrup to mount. “He doesn’t have magic, and yet the smoke reacted to him, too.”

  Corwin considered it a moment, then sucked in a breath as the truth dawned inside him. “Godsblood,” he murmured, remembering the conversation he’d had with Eryx about how they were descended from Fanen and so were protected by any magic that would do them harm. That itself must have been a sort of magic—one the Hellsteel reacted to, it seemed.

  Kate cast him a wary glance. “What is it?”

  A flush rose up Corwin’s neck, and once again he touched the crystal lying against his breastbone. This time, he caught himself doing it and dropped his hand. “Magnar and the rest of the Fanes are descended from Sevan himself. Something in their blood protects them from certain types of magic. Gavril wasn’t able to use his sway on any of them.”

  “How do you know—” Kate began, then stopped abruptly. She looked away, gaze fixed on the horizon.

  Shifting his weight in the saddle, Corwin went on. “Maybe that’s why Rendborne wanted Magnar to kill my brother—to destroy the magic protecting him. Once done, Gavril could’ve controlled the Godking easily, making him Rendborne’s puppet outright.”

  “And it may well have worked, if you hadn’t killed Gavril first,” Tira said.

  Corwin nodded, feeling a grim satisfaction in the knowledge. As it was, the balance of power seemed to have remained the same between Magnar and Rendborne. Before they’d gone to the Hellgate, Corwin had dispatched spies to the cities, and the reports they’d received most recently indicated Magnar was still in control. Corwin could only guess that the Godking didn’t realize what had been done to him, or Rendborne had successfully lied his way out of it. The man was certainly capable of such manipulation. But why? What’s your game? Corwin thought, knowing beyond all doubt that Rendborne was still the driving force behind everything.

  Kate turned back to them, her expression schooled into a careful mask. “The question is, what does Rendborne plan to do next?”

  “And, how do we stop it,” Tira added.

  Aware that the questions were posed to him, Corwin raised his gaze from the scarred and ruined field to the trees in the distance, the edge of the Wandering Woods. Norgard waited beyond. He felt the press of the uror brand against the rein in his hand. It remained dead, no hint of the magic that Valora claimed was still there. “The uror is not done,” she’d told him on their journey back to the caves after their escape from the Hellgate. “The goddess has not accepted you yet. She won’t until you complete the last trial. Only then will you truly be king.”

  “What happens if the goddess doesn’t accept me even then?” he’d asked her, but she’d given no answer. He had a feeling she didn’t know.

  Uror. Once Corwin had wanted to win it so badly, to be the goddess-chosen king of Rime. He’d even had dreams of riding the uror horse into battle. With his gaze still fixed toward Norgard, he wondered where the horse was now. Edwin had been parading about on a false one, but the real horse must be out there still, hidden in the city somewhere. Unless Rendborne has found it already. The thought made his heart plunge into his stomach as images of the Nameless One killing his own uror sign flashed through his mind. All the magic stored inside that black and white eagle had gone into Rendborne at its death, the power ripping him apart and putting him back together broken. Killing the uror sign was what made him into the monster he was today. It was the source of all his power and corruption. Rendborne had tried to kill the uror horse when it appeared too, but he hadn’t been able to. The goddess magic of the uror protected it. Just at it protected Edwin and Corwin.

  Had protected them. Before the Hellsteel.

  “What is it, Corwin?” Kate said, her mount sidestepping impatiently.

  “The uror horse. Rendborne tried to kill it once before, and now with the Hellsteel, he doubtless can finish the task.” The terrible reality in his words seemed to vibrate in the air around them.

  Reasonably, Tira said, “He’ll have to find more Hellsteel first.”

  “It won’t take him long.” Corwin’s gaze dropped. Rendborne was dogged in his pursuits, endowed with both tenacity and patience, a powerful combination.

  A stricken look crossed Kate’s face. “Killing it might not be the worst part.”

  Corwin eyed her. “How could there be anything worse?”

  “I said it before. Magic releases at death—all of it.”

  “I don’t understand,” Tira said, although Corwin had a feeling he did, and he hoped he was wrong about what Kate would say next.

  “All the magic in the land was affected when Fanen killed Sevan. What if that was because of the amount of magic unleashed? Sevan was a god. Gavril was only one wilder.”

  The fear doubled inside of Corwin. “The greater the death, the greater the devastation.”

  “Yes,” Kate said, and the simple word seemed to hold the sound of doom.

  Corwin pictured it now—the death of the uror sign, all the everweeps in Rime destroyed, all the magic gone from the world. Rime couldn’t survive without it. Without the wardstones, the drakes would overtake every city and village. He wanted to believe that Rendborne, born a Tormane himself, would never allow it to happen, but he knew better. He’d felt firsthand the madness inside him, the unbridled hatred for Rime and desire to see it fall. Destroying its magic would surely do that. It would take Rendborne’s magic as well, but Corwin doubted that would matter to the madman in the end. Or perhaps he had some way to make himself immune to the Ruin; maybe all those hours spent combing the Sevan library had taught him more than just how to find and use the Hellsteel.

  Corwin turned to Kate, his own mount now impatient with their loitering here. “If we go into the city, and the uror horse is still there, could you locate it with your sway?”

  “Yes,” she said, and this time the word held promise. Despite the rift separating them, he trusted her, believed in her fully. “It won’t be hard. I heard Rendborne and Gavril discussing it before, when they were draining my blood. Rendborne is keeping it in the stables. He’s been hiding it from Magnar the same way Edwin hid it. With a magestone.”

  “Then let’s get back to camp. I want to be ready to leave for Norgard by morning.” If they couldn’t save the world, at least they could prevent it from being destroyed, if only for a while.

  They hurried toward the caves. It was already past noon and the magists might require all the daylight that remained to work the spells they would need to infiltrate Norgard. Corwin’s mind raced with plans on how they would enter the city, where they’d look first. By the time they reached the last foothill before the dense wood that hid the cave entrance, he was so lost in thought, Kate had to shout his name to get his attention.

  “Corwin!”

  “What?”

  Kate pointed to the rise ahead of them. “Someone’s there.”

  He could see nothing out of place but didn’t doubt her magic. “Can you tell who it is?”

  She started to shake her head, then an incredulous look crossed her face. “My gods, it’s Genet. Laurent found them!”

  As they crested the hill and looked down, Corwin’s heart soared at the sight of hundreds of people traveling the path toward the cave entrance, a procession stretching out of sight through the trees.

  “Kate!” Genet called when she spotted them. She’d been waiting on the side of the path, watching her charges’ progress.

 
Kate rode toward her and the two women dismounted to embrace. Corwin joined them on the ground along with Tira, but he waited to be introduced, listening to Genet’s story of how they’d arrived here. He’d never met the former Rising councilor, but he liked her at once. She had a calming way about her.

  “Laurent tracked us down in Eetmark,” she was saying. After fleeing Farhold, the refugees—wilders, magists, and common folk—had spent two weeks in the wilderness, fending off drakes and avoiding Rimish soldiers. They’d learned quickly it was better to travel in small groups and, splitting up, they made their way to Eetmark and had been living there in hiding ever since. Once Laurent had found them, though, Genet and Deacon mustered the survivors once more, and they’d left the city in small caravans before joining up again here.

  “I’m so glad you made it safely.” The smile that crossed Kate’s face caused Corwin’s breath to hitch. She smiled so rarely anymore that seeing this one, bright and genuine, was like clouds suddenly parting to reveal the sun after days of gray skies. For a second he longed to see her sideways smile, as he called it, that special one he sometimes believed she reserved only for him.

  Genet returned the smile. “Safely, but not uneventfully.” She turned to Corwin, and to his surprise she bowed to him as formally as a noblewoman at court. “Good evening, your majesty.”

  Corwin’s throat tightened. I’m not king, he wanted to say. It didn’t matter if he was king in title and by the usual rights of succession. He hadn’t earned her fealty, and he didn’t deserve it. Not without the uror. He returned her bow. “It’s nice to meet you as well.”

  She waved at him, her manner turning casual once more. “Two days ago we passed a Rimish army amassing in the city of Rin. Lord Jedrek of Kilbarrow seems to be leading it, or at least attempting to.”

  Corwin wasn’t surprised. Edwin’s wife, Sabine, was Jedrek’s daughter. He supposed the man didn’t know Sabine was dead. Pravat, one of the wilders freed at the Hellgate, had been forced to execute Sabine to prove his loyalty to Gavril. Corwin hadn’t needed sway to feel the depths of the man’s guilt, no matter that all of them knew it wasn’t his fault. Pravat was merely the arrow and Gavril—Rendborne—the archer.

  “There are soldiers and nobles from Penlocke, Carden, Thace, even Marared,” Genet continued. “It’s a formidable force, all ready to resist the Sevan invasion.” She paused, her gaze probing him, measuring him. “But there seemed a good deal of disagreements among them about who should lead the attack on the city and how it would be done. I had the impression they’d been debating it for more than a week already.”

  Corwin grimaced. That sounded like every high council meeting he’d ever attended. Never had he seen all of Rime united in agreement, on any decision. “That’s unfortunate to hear, madam. But perhaps they’ll come to a consensus soon.”

  She gave him a shriveling look. “Is that really all you have to say? And here I mistook you for Corwin Tormane, the man who vowed that he would unite all of Rime so that wilder, magist, royalty, common folk, and everyone in between could live in peace as they are without shame or fear.”

  Corwin clenched his jaw. They were his words almost exactly, ones given not long after he’d escaped Rendborne the first time, when he’d come to accept that the persecution of wilders was wrong. He’d vowed to end it. Now, what he’d suspected had come to pass—the threat to one group of people had put the entire kingdom at risk. All of Rime stood on the brink of destruction. He cleared his throat and stood up straighter, as if to brace against this burden that fell to him and him alone. “You’re correct, madam. I did indeed say that.”

  A knowing smile crossed Genet’s face, and she winked at him. “Thought so. If you ask me, your majesty, it’s about time for Rime to claim her king.”

  25

  Kate

  THE ARRIVAL OF THE SURVIVORS from Farhold stirred the dim and morose atmosphere in the caves into one of hopeful frenzy. None of the wilders and magists with them had been affected by the Ruin, and their number was great enough that many believed they stood a chance of defeating the Sevan forces, especially once Corwin announced his intention to journey to Rin and unite the wilder resistance with that of Rime.

  He’d carefully considered the wisest course of action, consulting with Yaron, Kate, Bonner, Dal, Tira, Genet, Jiro, and Signe. In the end he’d decided to wait on rescuing the uror horse. Dal and Signe both seemed certain it would take Rendborne some time to uncover more Hellsteel. They’d used all the first deposit to make the trident, and it had taken nearly a year to find that.

  “And it will be harder without the Furen Mag,” Signe had said, her jaw set. “He should never have killed my mother.”

  Corwin had asked her what skills the Furen Mag brought to the search, but Signe refused to say. Another case of Seerah, it seemed.

  In the end, Corwin decided that it was better to head to Rin before Lord Jedrek finally convinced the Rimish forces to attack. Without his enslaved wilders, Magnar’s force was considerably weakened, but still large enough to be formidable. But if Corwin could succeed in uniting them all, they stood a strong chance of defeating Seva.

  Kate didn’t doubt Corwin’s ability to unite them. In fact, she’d never felt more certain of him. Although killing Gavril in the Hellgate might not have been the most strategic move, at least he had acted and dealt a significant blow to the enemy. And despite their reactions to Kate, nearly all the wilders who’d escaped the Hellgate with their lives had joined them at the caves. It was a victory, even if it was dearly bought.

  No, it wasn’t defeating the Sevan forces she doubted. It was their chances of defeating Rendborne. This would never be over until he was dead. Thanks to his stolen uror magic, Rendborne had already lived hundreds of years. There was no telling how much longer he would continue on. If they defeated Magnar but Rendborne got away, he would just come after them again in some other fashion. Giving up was not in his nature. Kate had witnessed Rendborne’s madness and hatred through Corwin’s memories, had felt the strength of his desire to see all of Rime brought to its knees. But that was back when she’d been welcome inside his head, and the center of her churned at the thought of it.

  Often, in those weeks before they’d left for Seva, Corwin and Kate would lie awake most of the night, sharing the intimacy of their bodies—and minds—together. That sharing had gone both ways, she seeing his thoughts and feelings while he’d shared hers. It had been a closeness she’d never experienced before with anyone else—and it was one she would never experience again. Corwin could barely look at her, let alone ever love her that way anymore.

  The truth of it, the pain of it, expanded inside her with every breath she took until she thought she might burst. She was weary of it. If only she could shut off her own emotions, or erase her memories as she’d done to so many others. But the mere thought of doing so only brought her more pain.

  I am a monster, same as Gavril.

  Thanks to Signe, she saw the truth of what her power made her, and it felt like an iron spike driven through her chest. The first day they’d returned to the caves after escaping the Hellgate, Kate had sought Signe out, meaning to apologize for using her sway on her, and to try to help Signe understand why she’d done it. The attempt had been a miserable failure.

  She’d found Signe in the small cave Dal had claimed as his own. She was sitting on a pile of blankets, her good leg tucked beneath her and the other stretched out in front of her.

  “What do you want?” Dal said when Kate appeared in the doorway.

  She stared at him, trying to keep her manner civil. She knew he was only angry on Signe’s behalf. She understood too well how love could make one act irrationally. “I need to talk to Signe, please. Alone.”

  Dal rolled his eyes. “Unless you plan on forcing me out by sword point, I’m staying.”

  “Don’t do this,” Kate said, her patience already wearing thin.

  “Or what? You’ll use your sway?” A cold smile passed over his lips. />
  “That’s enough, Dal.” Signe turned a sharp gaze on him. “Kate is still our friend. No matter what she’s done.”

  Kate flushed, outrage surging through her so fiercely she almost left, apologies be damned. With an effort she swallowed her angry retort.

  “I suppose I’ll go for a walk.” Casting Kate another glare, Dal stooped and pulled on his boots, taking his time about it. Kate waited, her patience expanding to the breaking point. She tried to rehearse her apology once more in her head, but her mind went blank, her emotions making a jumble of her thoughts.

  Even after Dal had left and she was alone with Signe, Kate still couldn’t summon the words. She knew sorry would never be enough. She sat down on the floor across from her friend, legs bent to give her arms something to rest on. The cold from the stone floor seeped into her backside, and she resisted a shiver.

  Signe merely watched her impassively. Kate wished she would do something. Juggle her knife maybe, like she used to. The stillness and quiet only emphasized the animosity between them. The fact that such existed at all made Kate want to cry, which in turn only sparked her temper. She didn’t have time for tears. None of them did.

  For one terrible moment, Kate considered influencing Signe’s feelings. If she was careful, she could slip into Signe’s mind and use her sway without her knowing. Then Kate realized what she was doing, and a blush of shame rose up her neck. How did I get here? she wondered. To so casually consider using her sway for such a selfish end. She didn’t know. Or perhaps she was afraid to admit what she did know—that she was enthralled to the control it gave her, the power.

  She pushed the unpleasant thought and all its implications aside. “Do you remember that time Cort cut my stirrup leathers right before my Relay trial?” Kate hadn’t thought about Cort Allgood in years, but she had no trouble recalling the boy who had relentlessly tormented her when she and Signe had both worked for the Relay in Farhold.

  Signe’s lip twitched as she fought back a smile. “Of course. You fell off around the first turn and broke the arena fence.”