by K. M. Shea
He slithered off his mount, his shoulders tight as he ran a hand through his hair. Emotions flashed across his face like quicksilver now that it was no longer covered by that stupid mask the curse had put him in.
“No—I mean, yes. Thanks.” He furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head like an unruly stallion. “But that’s not why I’m here.”
Angelique frowned. “Did something go poorly?” She flicked her eyes to Quinn, who was sliding off the odd mount, and studied her for any sign of injury. “…Are you well, Quinn?”
“It’s the goblins,” Themerysaldi said. “We’re not prepared for them at all. We didn’t expect Quinn to break the curse, but she did. The Farset army isn’t in position to help us, and the wall that protected us is gone with the curse!”
Angelique straightened, the giddiness over the broken curse leaving as it dawned on her what breaking the curse would put into motion. “But your magic is back?”
“And terribly weakened.” Themerysaldi’s expression was troubled and stormy. “It took multiple elves to do a temporary heal on Quinn.”
Weakened elves aren’t the best forces I’d hope for right now, but we’ll manage.
She reached for her magic and started a mental checklist of the spells that would be most helpful against an army of goblins. “Very well. Pegasus and I will fight with your people. You’ve sent messages to King Dirth? If we can hold out long enough—”
“Angelique.” Themerysaldi waited until she met his gaze. “We need you to use your core magic.”
Angelique didn’t even stop to consider the absurd request. “No. That’s not an option.” She turned to face Pegasus and wondered if she was awake enough to struggle onto his back, or if she needed him to find a crate she could stand on to give her a boost.
Themerysaldi approached her. “We will die if you don’t.”
Angelique almost rolled her eyes at the sheer drama of it.
We’re fighting goblins, not an army of wraiths. They’re not difficult to dispose of. Heavens know I’ve finished many of them while hoping for his royal-pain to emerge, she thought uncharitably.
She tried to keep the scoff from her voice—he was Evariste’s closest friend, after all—but she was pretty sure it leaked through anyway. “You’re facing goblins, Your Majesty. They may have numbers, but they are stupid creatures.”
“That doesn’t matter,” Themerysaldi said. “My generals—all my warriors are gone! The Farset army is hours away from arriving. The elves will be slaughtered if you don’t act. You are our only hope.”
“Only hope?” Angelique whirled around, the last shreds of her good mood shattering with his empty platitudes. “Do you know how many times I have been told that over the past five years? I have worked myself to exhaustion—until I can’t even breathe. I have given everything when all I want is to find Evariste. But instead, I sacrifice my life and blood to help every blasted country on this awful continent!”
Something akin to bitterness seethed in Angelique—she was sick of what amounted to guilt tactics. “I give and give and give. And yet you want more? It’s not enough. It’s never enough. Now you need me to use my core magic as well? You want me to sacrifice my very self!”
“Your magic is a part of you,” said Themerysaldi—the Elf King with magic so pure and clean, it was whiter than snow.
It was the height of hypocrisy, and it made Angelique snarl. “My magic would have me turn into a being of blood and slaughter. Every time I use it, I can feel a piece of my soul flake off, and I am that much closer to losing myself altogether and becoming a mindless murderer.”
Predictably, Themerysaldi protested. “It’s not like that!”
“Oh, really?” A bark of laughter escaped Angelique’s control. “Please remind me what it is you are asking me to do again? That’s right—destroy a goblin army!”
“You are the only one who can help us.”
Angelique scoffed at the pale words she’d heard over and over. “Yes, just as I was the only one who could help Sole stop Carabosso when King Giuseppe himself wouldn’t save his people. Just as I was the only one who could destroy the wyvern in Kozlovka, and just as I was the only one who could aid nearly every cursed royal family. I am exhausted, Themerysaldi. I have given until I have nothing left, and yet it is always I who must make the sacrifice, do more, roll up my sleeves and face one more rogue mage or curse!” Angelique planted herself, every muscle in her body tensed as she shook her head. “It is time for someone else to take the burden. I cannot.”
Themerysaldi threw an arm wide. “There is no one else! The Veneno Conclave cannot—or will not—aid any of the countries. Yes, you have faced horrible injustices and difficulties—and not through any fault of your own but rather through the failing of the Veneno Conclave! But you have the power to save us. Will you abandon us when we need you?”
There was enough truth in his words to make Angelique paused and rub her eyes as she thought.
Is it really so hopeless that if I refuse to use my magic, the elves will be lost? I assume I am the easiest source of help at the moment, but it can’t truly be that bad. The elves are freed! Even without their warriors among their number, they are still a powerful people.
Themerysaldi—proving he never knew when to keep his mouth shut—continued. “Do you think Evariste would approve of this? Of refusing to help us?”
He dared to speak so sanctimoniously to her? When it was obvious he wasn’t inclined to help her search for his dear friend in the future?
Angelique’s core magic bubbled to the surface, and she barely kept it in check as she let all of the hostility she was feeling for the capricious Elf King show in her eyes. “Evariste isn’t here,” she growled. “And though everyone is oh-so-eager to receive help from me, no one has helped me search for him.”
Themerysaldi did a fair job of appearing contrite. “Angelique, we were trapped in our own woods. When this is over, we will gladly—” he tried to begin with the empty promises.
“No, no, no,” Angelique’s hands twitched as she had to push her magic down, even though its coldness would have maybe made this whole ordeal hurt a lot less. “Let’s not bother to pretend you will actually help me if we all do indeed survive. The moment this is over, you are going to set out, intent on rescuing your precious generals and warriors.”
Emerys had nothing to say in return, only proving Angelique’s point.
In her cynicism, Angelique turned her back on the dratted elf. “No, instead it will again be up to me to comb the continent. Zancara, Verglas, Kozlovka, Arcainia, Farset, Sole, Erlauf, Ringsted, Torrens, Loire, and Baris. I’ve been everywhere, and yet I can’t uncover even a hint of where he is being held!”
A moment passed in desolate silence.
“What of Mullberg?” Quinn asked.
Angelique straightened—she had forgotten the soldier was present. “What of it?”
Another few moments passed before Quinn spoke again. “Have you searched Mullberg?”
Angelique was so surprised Quinn was actually addressing the issue of searching for Evariste rather than the need to wipe out the goblins, she almost spun around to gawk at the woman. However, her magic was still sputtering deep inside her, and she wasn’t entirely sure the illusion that colored her eyes and covered up their eerie shade of silver was working. Quinn was the last person on the continent that Angelique wanted to show the shadowy undertones of her magic to. So she settled for shifting to stare at a nearby building.
“No. I haven’t bothered,” she said. “The Veneno Conclave is located in Mullberg. No rogue mage with two intelligent thoughts in his mind would hold Master Evariste captive there. The Conclave would sense it.”
“Are you certain?” Quinn’s voice was reluctant but calm. “The Conclave has maintained the position that it is unable to aid any countries. I would think that would include Mullberg, or there would be an outcry.”
The thought surprised Angelique so much that she was only capable of blinking lik
e an idiot.
She couldn’t be right, could she? It’s the Veneno Conclave! But they were so inept as to let Carabosso escape, and they haven’t moved on much beyond that.
“Also,” Quinn awkwardly cleared her throat. “Based on the way the Conclave has failed to stop the Chosen and the rogue magic users that you have faced off with, can you confidently say they would really go so far as to search Mullberg for him?”
Angelique frowned hard.
She has an unfortunate point. I assumed…but I also assumed eventually I’d get more help from the Conclave in this fight against the Chosen, and that hasn’t been true at all either.
Quinn picked her way around Themerysaldi and stood in front of Angelique, her eyes shining with the loyalty and honor that had probably been what broke the elves’ curse. “You are right, Angelique,” she said. “You have carried many burdens that should not be yours to bear alone. You protected and guarded those in need. You have stood up for us when no other magic user has. When this is over—no matter what magic you use or do not use—I will help you search for Lord Enchanter Evariste.”
The offer was genuine—Quinn was too honorable to lie to her. Angelique knew that even though they’d only been acquainted for a short time. Even so, she felt afraid to hope it was real. “You will?” she asked.
Something in Quinn’s expression flickered. “I will,” she said with a firmness and a glance that dared Themerysaldi to disagree with her. “I’m afraid I’m only a soldier, but I will use everything at my disposal to help you.”
“But can you leave Farset?” Angelique tilted her head. “King Dirth…”
“Then I will leave the army,” Quinn said, with the same calmness one used to announce dinner was served.
When Angelique gaped at her, Quinn offered her an understanding smile. “You have borne much, Angelique, but it seems to me you see very little of worth in yourself. Even now what you want most is to find Lord Enchanter Evariste—whom you do believe is worthy. I will help you not because your master deserves to be found or because of all the things you have done for the continent, but because you give beyond your capacity out of your desire to spare others.”
Angelique felt as scrupulous as a rogue mage, and she shifted uncomfortably. “How can you say that when I refuse to use my core magic?”
“We all have limits,” Quinn said. “We all have fears. Besides, it is high time that someone step in to ease your pain.” She smiled as she held out her hand.
Angelique finally got a good look at Quinn and noticed that her shirt was spattered with bloodstains which were likely—based on the slices in her garment—from her own blood.
Quinn had just broken the elves’ curse, been wounded, and was prepared to go face goblins, and she not only offered help to Angelique, she took the time to understand and leave the choice up to her.
Themerysaldi doesn’t deserve her. She’s too noble, like Evariste.
It dimly occurred to Angelique that perhaps she and Themerysaldi were more alike than she cared to admit because she hardly deserved the kindness and friendship her teacher had always showered on her as well.
Irritatingly, the memory of Evariste made tears well up in her eyes.
“You remind me of him—Evariste, I mean,” Angelique finally replied. “He is—like you—a true hero. Giving endlessly and offering love to those that don’t deserve it.”
A few wayward tears escaped from her eyes, and she wanted to groan at the repeated show of emotion, but Quinn had seen her bawl her eyes out. A few tears were hardly noteworthy in comparison. She glanced at the Elf King to see his reaction.
He, surprisingly, looked pensive, and perhaps a little repentant?
Angelique cleared her throat and held out her hand, palm up.
Obligingly, Pegasus dropped his muzzle into it and gently lipped her fingers.
His reassurance was the last bit Angelique needed to set aside her misery—and anger with Themerysaldi. “I will face the goblins. But I cannot promise to use my core magic,” she said.
She glanced from Quinn to Themerysaldi.
Both of them nodded—Themerysaldi didn’t even look mulish or displeased about her offer.
Pegasus lowered himself to the ground with the commanding elegance he always possessed, scattering snowflakes with a woosh of air.
Angelique slipped onto his back and shakily re-started her mental review of appropriate spells as the long-familiar movement of Pegasus rocking to his feet shifted her forward and backward.
“I’m sorry, Angelique,” Themerysaldi finally broke his silence as he carefully studied her. “I wouldn’t ask this of you if there was another way.”
Angelique ignored him—she still didn’t harbor friendly feelings for him at this moment—and leaned against Pegasus’ neck. “Where are we going?”
Themerysaldi returned to his mount, Quinn right behind him.
Quinn stepped into his cupped hands and sprang onto the magical mount’s back. “The elves are gathering at Jasper Circle.”
“Then let’s meet them there.” Angelique nudged Pegasus, who exploded with a burst of speed, the flames of his mane and tail dimly illuminating their path as they left Sideralis for the forest.
Evidently, Pegasus knew where Jasper Circle was. Without any direction, he looped around the outskirts of Sideralis and headed to the border of Alabaster Forest.
Themerysaldi and Quinn—riding the magical mount—caught up with them just as the trees thinned and became less glorious the closer they got to the human-owned part of the forest.
Although Pegasus thundered on at a speed that whipped Angelique’s hair in the wind and made each breath feel like she was inhaling ice, the heat charm of her dress kept her from feeling the frigid cold as snow continued to fall, soft and white.
Pegasus and Themerysaldi’s mount angled their paths, and when they hit the border, they galloped parallel to it, skimming across the border where it was easier to gallop than in the thicker elven woods.
When they were only minutes from Jasper Circle, flickers of fire danced in the forest.
Goblins scurried through the human woods like insects, covering every surface. They boldly scrambled across the border, cackling and screaming as they shot crude arrows at Pegasus and Themerysaldi’s mount.
The shots went wide, of course—they were going too fast for anything as stupid as a goblin to get an accurate shot—but Angelique felt her heart sink into her gut as she huddled close to Pegasus and stared at the seemingly endless mass of goblins.
This wasn’t a raid—or the paltry war band Angelique had been picturing.
This was a horde.
She saw flashes of green and gray skin, tall goblins, and goblins with huge bulging eyes.
There are cave goblins, forest goblins, and mountain goblins here. How is that possible? They never fight together! And where have they been? I’ve been roaming these woods for weeks, and I saw no sign that this many goblins had amassed!
Pegasus lurched away from the border, taking a worn path that was relatively clear of low hanging branches and encroaching bushes.
Within moments, they reached Jasper Circle.
The circle was created by a grove of the elves’ famed white trees that leaned to the side to create arches. At the center of the circle—on a slight incline—were four enormous statues of the four humans the elves had come to respect most in their history of the continent.
The elf forces gathered next to the shrine, taking up their positions in organized groups as they readied their weapons.
The elves looked better than they had earlier in the day. But they still wore the finery—silk robes, elegant circlets and jeweled necklaces—they’d donned for the party. None of that was going to offer them much protection from the goblins.
What made Angelique uneasy, however, was the lack of magic.
Although she wasn’t good at sensing individual powers, Angelique had always been able to tell that—as a people—elves brimmed with magic. Now, standi
ng next to an army of them—she only felt the faintest flickers.
Themerysaldi wasn’t exaggerating the direness of this situation after all, Angelique guiltily thought.
She was starting to regret Jasper Circle’s close proximity to the border. Pegasus was fast, but he was much slower than usual when running through a forest. Given how short of a distance they were from the border, it was likely the goblins would be on them within minutes.
Angelique slipped off Pegasus’ back and patted his neck. “As you heard, there’s going to be a fight. You had better return to the sky if you don’t want to get involved.”
Pegasus pushed his muzzle against her temple with more force than was necessary and trotted off, moving to stand behind the elven troops—who gave him a wide berth even in the hustle of their preparations.
Angelique studied the elves and wondered where she should begin when she felt the faint beckon of magic. It tugged her through one of the white arches of Jasper circle and led her up to the four statues.
They were larger than life with each standing approximately ten feet tall.
Angelique was drawn to the one statue she knew most about—the one dedicated to Princess Rakel of Verglas, affectionally called the Snow Queen by most of the continent, and revered by magic users as the first enchantress.
The Snow Queen’s statue depicted her in a thick dress etched with snowflakes and a fur collar that had been so painstakingly carved, it looked real. The artist had sculpted the Snow Queen’s hair into an elaborate braid, and the expression on her face was a quiet and serene smile.
Given how long-lived elves were, the statue was the best record of what Princess Rakel actually looked like because there was a good chance her sculptor had been alive when she walked Verglas hundreds of years ago.
As an apprentice, Angelique had always liked visiting the circle—the Snow Queen appeared so serene and kind, and she made Angelique proud to have magic.
But now, as Angelique brushed the statue’s skirts with her finger tips, she wished the Snow Queen was still here—or that someone with her strength of character was.