Cavelost

by Courtney Privett

  "Why are you doing this?" Daelis cried. Behind us, the orcs roared at the Varaku. There were dozens remaining out of the original hundred or so, and dismembered bodies littered the ground. Only three of the Jarrah still stood. The fourth was dead and partially buried by two Varaku bodies.

  “Because I want what is rightfully mine," Ranalae said. Her voice was no longer muffled by the mask. She set the mask next to unconscious Yana and smiled. "I was sixteen when I found out my father was not my father at all. He was not even able to sire children." She nodded toward Mara's still body. "My mother was desperate for a daughter to carry on her line. She bedded Nylian Lightborn and conceived me."

  "Your father is the High King?" I asked incredulously. I slashed at Ranalae, but she easily parried my blows. She was well-trained and agile, and I was deeply exhausted. I didn't know how long I'd be able to fight her before my strength waned.

  Ranalae attempted another strike at Shan, but I thwarted her. He scooted out of the way, until his back was against the stone table. He cradled his injured arm and sought eye contact with Daelis, who was using one of his throwing knives to sever Yana's restraints.

  Ranalae's concealed maille clinked as she sidestepped. "He was not the High King then, or even the Crown Prince. He was a young and lusty idiot reveling in the attention of a beautiful older woman. He was the second-born son, but his brother died when I was young, and he was raised to heir. He knows who I am. He knows I'm his firstborn child, and the written decree of High Kings past states that bastard or not, the firstborn ascends. I am the rightful heir to Bacra, but instead my father has chosen to ignore me in favor of Liantor, my sniveling fool of a half-brother. My father is not willing to give me what is mine, so I will take it from him."

  "You're mad. Delusional," Daelis mumbled. Between only having one functional arm and the continuous press of Varaku at his back, his work with Yana's straps was tediously slow. He'd only managed to sever one and it would take eight more to free her.

  "Perhaps, but you are unworthy and I find that much more shameful than a mere touch of madness," Ranalae said. Her blue-green eyes narrowed and she growled at Shan. "Stop shadowing me. You are more than worthy, but you will not be if you continue this infernal game of yours."

  "I play until I win," Shan said through gritted teeth. "No magic for you." I parried another blow directed toward him. "Go ahead, kill me. Just how long do you expect your dynasty to last without an heir? If you kill my father, I'm all you've got."

  "I won't let you hurt my son," I growled. I stepped forward, forcing Ranalae to back into a low cabinet.

  Ranalae laughed and shook her head. "I already have, Katrin. More than you would care to imagine, and I will hurt him more once you are out of my way. I ought to thank you for birthing him, though. His soul is beautifully dark beneath the shining star he wears as his armor. The Nightshadow blood courses through his veins like a tidal wave. Unlike his father, he is worthy of the kingdom he will inherit."

  "I don't want it," Shan said. He staggered to his feet and picked up the knife he had left at Yana's side. He hefted its weight before throwing it into the head of a nearby Jarrah. Now only one was left standing. "Hey, Dad... I think I've got the spin problem figured out. Why don't you toss one at her and end this?"

  "I'm afraid of hitting Rin," Daelis said.

  "Coward!" Ranalae shouted. "I spent years ashamed that I birthed someone so weak, someone so magically inept, but you have surprised me, Daelis. You are unworthy of ruling anything or even of remaining alive, but have proven yourself a worthy opponent. Not as worthy as your mercenary whore and her magnificent swordwork, but entertaining nonetheless. I now believe you had a singular purpose: to create Shannon. He is imperfect now, but he will not be once I finish him. He will help me forge a better world. Oh, Daelis, I see the anger in your eyes."

  I was beginning to have difficulty blocking her blows, but she wasn't even breathless. Something needed to change, and quickly, or she would ramble about worthiness and torture until my defenses faded into nothing.

  An opportunity presented itself to my left. Shan's knife was nearly in reach. I ducked under Ranalae's sword in a feigned stumble and grabbed the knife hilt. It took a small amount of strength to pry it from the Jarrah's skull, but it was free. I coiled my thigh muscles, then sprang fully upright and jammed the knife into Ranalae's brow.

  Her body wilted and she collapsed at my feet. She stared straight forward as she reached up and touched the knife handle. Her hand dropped to her side and she said, "Everything tastes like music."

  I knelt and eased her onto her back. She resisted but I easily overpowered her. There was no focus in her turquoise eyes, no determination in her slack jaw, no malice in her slumped shoulders. Her tongue twitched behind her open lips, but she could find no voice with which to speak.

  I reached a hand behind my back. "Daelis..."

  He was at my side and on his knees. He ran a knuckle along his mother's cheek and shook his head. "Don't kill her, Rin. This injury may kill her on its own, but don't kill her while she's like this. Please."

  "Why not?" Shan asked.

  I sighed and shook my fingers through my sweaty hair. "Because she's a monster, but she's still his mother. There also isn't much honor in killing someone in this position. Sweetie, what do you want to do with her?"

  Daelis looked about the chamber. The Varaku were dead and the Foxfire warrior sisters had the last Jarrah cornered. "We'll get my father's guards down here so they can drag her to the detention facility. I'm thinking the one on Claw Island, since it specializes in housing magic users. Then I'll... I'll see if my father can figure out what to do with the Uldru we're liberating because all I can think about is getting our children home."

  Ranalae's eyes darted from side to side. She breathed easily but said nothing more. I may have taken that ability from her permanently. I was perfectly comfortable with that. This body wasn't dead, but I was confident that Ranalae herself was.

  "Yes!" came a shout from the corner. The last Jarrah fell under the warrior Urzul's blade.

  "All right, then. Let's go home," Shan said.

  Day 155, part 7

  Both healer orcs returned to the surface with us while the other Foxfires remained in the forge pit to dispatch any hiding Varaku and keep watch on Ranalae until reinforcements arrived. Giret carried feverish Yana so I could support Shan. Frald brought the dragon eggs. Daelis and I had already agreed to not tell Shan about Mara yet, and maybe not ever. He was beaten and distraught. He didn't need the additional weight of knowing he'd killed the woman who was helping us.

  We took the longer road back to the Manor rather than risk surprising anyone at the Citadel. The staircase felt like the tallest thing I'd ever climbed, but then we were at the top and and Daelis was tapping the numbers on the tiles. One click and a slide to open the false wall, and we were out. We were together and alive and free of Ranalae.

  Frald and Giret waited in the hall outside the lavatory with the children and me while Daelis went to find help. It was still raining, and misty gray daylight touched every surface. The shift in light made the injuries my children had sustained even more difficult to behold. Yana had hundreds of small cuts in various stages of healing on her limbs and torso. The lacerations on Shan's face were an ugly red and I saw no way they could heal without leaving significant scars. The way he moved told me he was in severe pain that went far beyond his broken wrist, and I was afraid of what we would find when we removed his red Jarrah robe. My children were safe for the moment, but they certainly were not well.

  Shan's knees gave way and he slumped onto the floor. I sat down on the cool tile and he curled up on his side with his head on my lap and his injured arm cradled against his chest. I stroked his blood-stained hair, carefully avoiding his face. My poor boy... my resolve crumbled and I wept over him while the orc healers assessed Yana.

  "Don't cry, Mom," Shan whispered. He let out an agonized yelp as he rolled onto his back. He reached up a gloved h
and and touched my cheek. "You have blood all over you, but it's not yours, is it? The blood on me is mostly mine. I don't think I can walk anymore today. I had to use shadow magic against all five of them. I'm so tired."

  "Shan, you are wonderful. You don't need to do anything else for now." I wiped my eyes and nodded toward Frald. "Is she... how is she?"

  Frald didn't look at me as she spoke. "Critical, but I think she'll survive if we can get her fever down."

  Tears flowed from Shan's eyes. "She's beautiful, isn't she? Evergreen hair and skin like starlight. If she dies it's my fault."

  "No it isn't, Shan. None of this is your fault," I said. I wanted to embrace him like I did when he was small and skinned a knee, but he was in too much pain and he was no longer that child.

  "The fever is," Shan said. He averted his eyes before closing them. "They were using clean knives on her, flame-sterilized knives. They planned on keeping her alive and asleep for months while they bled her. They were using her blood to add magic to the dragon armor. Magic-skilled, magic blood, or so they believe. I could see her pain even though she was asleep. I could feel it. When they made me cut her, the knife I used was dirty. I'd stuck it in the body of an Uldru who had died from an infection. I thought if I gave her the infection, she would die faster and suffer less. I... I'm sorry, Mom. I didn't know what else to do. I was told you were dead. Fathom... Ranalae told me she'd torture and kill Tessen, then Aunt Nora and Uncle Tristan and the cousins if I refused to do what I was told or tried to escape. She's a liar. She spoke lies as easily as she stole breaths."

  "I know, my dear. Yana's fever isn't your fault. It's Ranalae's."

  "I don't... I don't want to speak of the things she did to me. I don't want to remember," Shan said.

  "Then don't, not right now." I lifted the pendant he wore around his neck. "What is this? Do you want me to destroy it?"

  Shan pried it from my fingers, then dropped it onto his chest and held my hand. "No. Never. I was told I had to create a personal symbol as part of my transition into a Jarrah, so I made this. They didn't know I enchanted it with my own blood when I forged it. I wanted to make sure they never broke me, so I enchanted it with resistance. As long as this amulet exists, my soul can't be broken anymore than it already is."

  "Where did you learn how to do that?" I asked. A stomp of feet traveled down the hall. Help was arriving.

  Shan's attempt at a smile twisted into a wince. "We all have our secrets, Mom. I'll tell you about my tutor sometime, but not today. My face hurts too much to talk anymore."

  Daelis appeared, followed by a contingent of armed guards. He handed the leader a slip of paper with the wall code written on it, then stepped out of the way to let the guards enter the lavatory. Once they were through, he returned to us and reached for my hand. "Tessen refused to leave, so he's upstairs with my father. I have no idea what they've been discussing, but they seem to have taken a liking to each other. Father wants us to stay here for now so his physicians can help treat the injuries. Orcs included. I don't think we'll be going home tonight."

  "Close enough. Do you think we can send a message to my family so they know we're alive?" I asked.

  "Of course. It's only early afternoon, so perhaps they can come here for dinner. I imagine by tomorrow morning, the entire realm will know we're still alive." Daelis let go of my hand and moved out of the way so a group of medics could ease the children onto stretchers. He brushed a pair of tears away from his eyes. "I'm going to start feeling this soon."

  "I already am," I said.

  I held his blood-splattered hand and we followed the medics upstairs.

  Day 157

  Nora brought me my journal last night. Daelon insisted I inscribe the nightmare of the catacombs into its pages so it can be used as my statement to the Magistrates, so that's what I've been doing while my children sleep. I've been writing for hours. My hand is starting to cramp. Maybe writing will help me release some of this fear. Maybe not. I don't need this journal as evidence of what happened when I can see the log of our journey written into our flesh.

  Daelis will likely never regain use of his arm beyond the small amount of feeling and movement he's already recovered. Frald and the elven physicians believe the nerves have healed as much as they're going to. I'm sure it will bother him more later, but for now he's too concerned about the rest of his family to be conscious of his own infirmity. The orcs intend to declare him an orc-friend for his part in avenging the losses of the Foxfire clan, and they wish to mark him as such. He's a little hesitant about the scarification, but he's agreed to it as long as they put the mark on his left arm. I never thought I'd see an elven orc-friend and to my knowledge there hasn't been one since Daelis's great-great-grandfather, Daerion Goldtree.

  I'm all right. I've got the lovely new scars on my thigh and scalp from when I fell near Aes, and on my forearm where the quartz tunnel cut me, but other than that I'm no more injured than the bruises and scrapes Ranalae gifted me during our fight. I was relieved to learn my baby is still safe and alive within me. I'm trying to forget the horrible parts of our ordeal and hold onto gratefulness for the good things that came out of it. This child is one of those wonderful things. My restored relationship with her father is another. Yana, everything about Yana. Poor Cinda's brief experience with freedom and acceptance. The liberation of over a hundred and fifty Uldru slaves. Those last two are bittersweet rather than wonderful. I wish we could have saved Cinda, and I wish we could have freed all of the Uldru instead of a small handful. Still, our efforts are making a difference to that handful. The freed Uldru are currently being housed at one of Daelon's nearby forest retreats so they can get used to their new life under the sky and figure out a path for their future.

  I'm sitting in a comfortable chair between the beds occupied by Shan and Yana. I'm not sure where Daelis is. Wearing himself ragged with official business, I assume. As long as whatever he's doing keeps Ranalae locked away for the rest of her life, I can tolerate his short absence.

  Shan draws a deep breath and slowly releases it. I hope he's not having nightmares in his sedative-assisted sleep. My beautiful child's ravaged face only hinted at the rest of his injuries. Once his clothing and dressings were removed, the extent of Ranalae's torture became clear. The cuts and burns and tattooing on his flesh created intentional symbols, magical symbols, as if Ranalae had transformed him into a living spellbook. Judging by the healing progress, she had started on his chest, then moved to his back, and had nearly completed his legs and upper arms before we interrupted her. His mutilated skin was swollen and bloodied. I was afraid the extent of the damage in itself would kill him, but the physicians assured me he will heal in time, though the scars will always remain. Frald has been applying ointments to the lacerations on his face. She said they won't take away the inevitable scars, but they will make them less severe. I'm more worried about the internal scars Ranalae left him with. I'm not sure those soul lacerations will ever stop bleeding, let alone heal. Time will reveal how much of my old Shan carries over to my new Shan. I hope that resilience amulet of his did its job and continues to serve its purpose for the rest of his life. He's going to need it.

  Yana's fever broke yesterday afternoon and hasn't returned. Her scars will be small, but numerous. Her ethereal face was left uninjured even as her body was maimed. I hope she was unaware through it all. I hope she remembers none of it when she wakes. Once the physicians deem her fit, we're taking her home. Finally. For the first time in her young life, she'll be safe and free.

  "Rin-Mom? Mom?" Yana says. She smiles and opens her eyes. Her large irises are a striking pale green in the shaded sunlight. "I love you, Mom."

  I kiss her forehead and untangle the blankets from her arms. "I love you, too. We're safe, Yana. Finally. Sleep and heal and we'll be able to go home soon. Your brother Tessen and your Aunt Nora are busy decorating a bedroom in our house for you. They'll be back here with my parents soon so you can finally meet them all."

  Yana's ey
es are closed again. I doubt she heard much before she returned to sleep. Based on her relaxed expression, I'd bet I love you still drifts about her ears like a whispering breeze.

  Daelis stands in the doorway. I think he's been there long enough to hear Yana's first waking words. He smiles at me before shuffling between the beds and sitting down on the floor at my feet. He rests his head on my knee and asks, "Have you finished your account?"

  "Just about." I shake out my fingers before returning the pen to the battered journal. "Did you take care of what you needed to?"

  "Yes. We're both officially alive again. Once you're done writing, my father would like to borrow your journal to use in the case against my mother and any other Jarrah who might still be out there awaiting capture. It will be returned once the evidence is logged. We have word from the Foxfire clan that the scouts found Mountain Home deserted, so we have no idea how many Jarrah are still alive or where they may be."

  I stare down at the journal. So much has been written in these pages. Only a few blank sheets remain. "A lot of this is rather personal."

  "I think it will be all right. Father won't be the one reading it. He's bringing in an impartial clerk from Coldtower to log the necessary information. He said the journal can be considered our statement so we won't have to participate in any trials. It's mostly a formality in my mother's case. She'll never be competent to stand trial so she's being moved to the asylum on Claw Island once the detention infirmary deems her fit for transfer, but all of this is secret. The official records state that Ranalae Nightshadow-Goldtree is dead."

  “How do you feel about this?" I ask.

  Daelis shrugs his shoulder and sighs. "I don't know yet. I mean, whatever she used to be is dead now. I'm not going to waste my energy mourning a monster or feeling sorry for the shell that remains, but I'm still sad. I suppose it's because the mother I always hoped to have never existed."