by H. L. Burke
Tossing the ball of light he still clutched in his hand to the ground, he drew a surge of magic out of his core. The heartbond sparked with energy, and his magic gushed from his being. It crashed over the escaping light which splashed upward and froze in place as a luminous wall, transparent but solid.
With a howl, Athan struck forward with his light-staff. It crashed against the barrier which shuddered but didn’t give—for now.
Realizing, he’d only bought himself a little time, Kay searched for an escape. All stone walls. He could travel through them, but not knowing what was on the other side, doing so could kill him as surely as facing Athan. No, he needed to wake himself up.
Arynne.
He remembered her dark eyes, rich brown and framed with sweeping lashes. He remembered her strength, and he claimed it as his own. The ground beneath him wobbled. The stone walls shifted to mist around him.
Athan roared. “You may escape me this time, boy, but you can’t fight your purpose. I don’t want you dead, though, so here’s a warning: when you return to your world, look to your left.”
Before Kay could respond, the vision broke. The ground collapsed beneath him, and with a jolt he landed in the biting cold and swirling mist. Frole still stood to his right, in the exact position Kay had seen him last. Behind him Crede’s voice continued, “anything, but maybe we’re—”
Look to your left.
Kay spun and shot out a bolt of starlight into the mist. It cut through the twisting gray like parting a curtain, revealing a charging form twice the size of a man. A hulking mass of bedraggled fur with dead-black eyes, and a gaping maw dripping dark slime—
“Grimbear!” Kay barked.
Chapter Four
The other wardens whirled to face the attacking monster, weapons bared.
Twisting gray vapor rose from the grimbear’s fur as if it had recently caught on fire and was still smouldering. It lurched onto its hindlegs and threw its head back in a deafening roar.
With a shriek, Crede tossed his spear. The grimbear’s massive paw swiped it away, shattering the wood of the weapon.
Kay bit back a groan. The idiot boy had used up his best weapon on a panicked throw. Hopefully the two veterans would have more common sense.
Kay drew another blast of starlight into his hand, thrusting it towards the grimbear’s face. The beast growled and flinched back. Frole and Idyne darted to the sides, jabbing at the creature from the right and left simultaneously.
The grimbear’s massive paw crashed towards Idyne even as Frole’s sword caught him in the flank. Idyne jumped aside, but claws clipped his shoulder and he fell face first into a pile of dingy snow. Snarling, the monster rounded on Frole who managed to dodge and bring up his blade before his face.
“Crede! Draw your sword!” Kay shouted at the gaping, motionless youth. The boy’s mouth opened and closed, but Kay didn’t wait for him to snap out of it.
He needed to save enough starcasting energy to close the rift ... but he wouldn’t be able to close it if he were dead nor was he willing to sacrifice his men. With a swift prayer to the Ever for protection, he dropped his sword and swung both his hands in a great arch before his body. A dome of solid starlight appeared over the bear. Midway through the motions of lunging for Frole’s throat, the bear smashed into the side of the barrier. The collision reverberated through the magic into Kay’s bones. He widened his stance to keep from toppling over. The grimbear pounded against the light-dome with both paws and even its head and snout. Each hit sent a shudder through Kay.
“Frole, help Idyne! I can’t hold him for long!” Kay ordered.
Frole scrambled to lift the bleeding Idyne to his feet.
Kay willed more magic to strengthen the barrier. A normal bear would’ve used up enough of the air within the dome by now to be weakened, but a grimbear was much harder to kill. A smaller grim—such as an owl or a wolf—and Kay could’ve dispatched it with a single bolt of light to the heart, but a grimbear’s lifeforce was surrounded by hundreds of pounds of pure strength. Likely he’d only wound and anger it further with such an attack—and he’d have to let down the barrier to do it. They needed to throw everything they could at the beast and all at once.
“Idyne, can you fight?” Kay snapped. Sweat broke out across his brow.
The man gave a weak nod and lifted his sword towards the grimbear. Frole likewise aimed his sword at the creature’s throat. Shaking like a single flake caught in a blizzard wind, Crede staggered forward, blade at ready.
“On the count of three, I drop the barrier, we attack as one. Got it?” Kay said through clenched teeth.
“Yes, sir!” Three voices responded as one.
“One.”
The men spread out so the grimbear had no means of escape.
“Two.”
Kay prepared for his own attack, drawing more power from deep in his chest.
“Three!”
Kay clapped his hands together. The light-dome shattered into a thousand shards each of which dove for the bear’s throat. Crede, Frole, and Idyne charged as one. Blades pierced the creatures hulking frame. Putrid brown blood sprayed from the creature. The grimbear swiped at Crede. Kay grabbed the youth’s arm and yanked him out of the way.
The grimbear crashed to the ground, oozing blood.
Kay’s knees knocked together, but somehow he kept standing.
The men exchanged a look.
The blood darkening Idyne’s shoulder had already stiffened in the cold. They needed to get him somewhere they could look at him. The rift allowing in the dark powers still remained, but Kay’s blood had turned to water, and there was no way he could muster the strength required for that sort of magic right now.
“Back to camp,” he said. “We’ll see to this after a rest, a good meal, and some bandages for Idyne.”
The wardens had shelters stocked with provisions hidden throughout the wastes, the closest of which was a cave a brisk hike from the rift. Under normal circumstances, it would’ve taken the group less than an hour, but with Idyne wounded and the others tired from the hard fight—especially Kay who had used up both his physical and magical energy—it seemed to drag on for the greater part of the moonnotch. Finally Crede gave a shout and pointed to where a single spire of stone marked the entrance to a narrow gully barely visible between massive drifts.
The men entered the gully single file and immediately turned right into a low tunnel that Kay had to crawl through, his pack scraping the rocks above him. After a quick scramble, he emerged into a chamber filled with a gentle white light and crates of supplies left there by previous expeditions. The light radiated from scattered fragments of starshards, jutting from the walls and ceiling. Jagged stalagmites and stalactites protruded like fangs of a massive beast, and the men ducked and weaved around them to find the water smoothed rock floor before a small pool with steam rising off of it: a natural hot spring that made the cavern inhabitable even with the freezing weather constantly outside.
Frole rolled out a blanket roll beside the water and assisted Idyne in removing his coat and tunic. Kay sloughed off his own outer layers and collapsed next to a large starshard. Its light and magic pulsed through him and soothed away a swiftly building headache. He closed his eyes and sighed. The heartbond quivered to life like a wilting flower receiving a drink of water. He could feel Arynne’s love for him, quiet but constant and a little sad. Still, even with the ache of longing tainting the sensation, it was the most beautiful thing he had in his life, and he’d treasure it.
A shadow loomed over him, and he looked up to see a troubled Crede, wringing his hands.
“What?” Kay grunted.
“Do we have to go back, sir?” Crede asked.
Kay moaned and leaned forward. “I need to close the rift. If not, foul magic will continue to seep through from the Lingering Dark, corrupting more animals into grims.” Or worse, someone could get through. If Athan was strong enough to mentally reach through the rift, how long would it be until he c
ould physically slip into the mortal world? With Arynne still tied to Kay, the prophecy couldn’t be fulfilled, and there would be nothing to stop the sorcerer.
“I suppose. It’s just ... I’m sorry I froze up out there, sir.” Crede hung his head. “You depended on me, and I nearly cost everyone their lives. If I had kept calm, maybe Idyne wouldn’t have been injured. Maybe you would’ve been able to complete the mission and we’d be going home now, instead of ... going back.”
Kay tapped his fingers against the stone floor. The steam from the hot spring circled him, coaxing him to relax and sleep. “You made a mistake. You acknowledged it. You know to not do it again. I’d rather have a man at my back who knows the consequences of an error than a cocksure idiot who has never made one.”
Crede’s posture straightened, and he smiled. “Thank you, Starwarden. I won’t let you down again.”
“I know.” Kay forced a smile of his own.
If not for the prospect of never seeing Arynne and Olyn again, the banishment he was under wouldn’t have been a foul punishment. He preferred living in the wilds with a purpose to milling about the palace like a leech syphoning off the crown’s resources—at least that’s what his father considered him when he was at home.
“Grab some rations and get some rest.” He pointed towards the crates. “I want to complete the mission as soon as my energy is restored. The longer the rift stays open, the greater the chance more animals will wander into it, which means the more grims we’ll potentially have to fight through to get the job done.”
“I’ll be ready, Starwarden Kajik.” The boy stuck his chin in the air and his chest out.
Kay laughed. “Kay’s fine, Crede. We’re not exactly on parade now.”
“Of course, thank you, Kay.” Crede wandered to the supply crates.
Folding his coat into some semblance of a pillow, Kay stretched out on the ground in front of the starshard and immediately drifted off to sleep.
No sooner had darkness surrounded him than a cold feeling like lifeless fingers groping at the corners of his mind brought him into an uneasy dream.
You think you can escape me so easily?
Kay’s eyes snapped open, but he could see nothing but twisting dark. No cave. No starshards. No companions. Just seething blackness. His heart pounded until it hurt. “Get out of my head,” he snarled.
You think me the villain in this tale? I could not help my birth, nor how it interfered with my parents’ carefully laid plans for the kingdom. No, I’m a victim, just like you.
Kay tried to stand, but the darkness pressed down on his body until he could scarcely breathe. “Maybe we started the same, but I’d never betray my family and kingdom. I will not end like you.”
Why do you resist me? You’ll never be wanted by anyone else. You never were. You never will be.
“That’s not true.” Olyn’s words echoed in Kay’s memory. You’re my brother. I love you, and I will not let you think you aren’t wanted. Shame for his momentary doubt when Athan had originally questioned Olyn’s motives, saying he’d only humored Kay, flooded through him. “I have family who loves me. Maybe not my father, but Olyn, Arynne ... even Clindt. They see me as worth preserving, worth loving, and I would give my last breath rather than harm any of them.”
And if those are your options?
A sickly light broke the pall hanging over Kay. Two bright points blinked through the murk: eyes, sunken, lifeless eyes aglow with an unnatural power. Kay squirmed under their scrutiny but couldn’t escape.
Your very existence dooms your loved ones. You are fated to bring about my return. Already you’ve aided me, for your bond with the princess seals the kingdom’s fate. If the Star Prince cannot join with the Sun Princess, he will never be strong enough to defeat me. He will fall by my hand, helpless to stop my advance, and the kingdom will be mine. Perhaps if you join with me, you can undo the harm you’ve caused. I have no interest in harming your princess.
Kay gritted his teeth. He couldn’t trust Athan. Even his offers of peace were tainted by the oppressive dark magic that crackled about him. It pricked Kay’s skin, sickening him, turning his stomach and clouding his mind.
What else can you do? Walk naked into the wastes and let the cold take you? Slit your own cursed wrists and give your blood for your brother, so that he may bond with the girl?
Despair crashed down on Kay, threatening to crush him. No, there had to be another option. He would die for Olyn, but he couldn’t give up. Not when there might be another way. He’d promised Arynne to keep fighting ... Arynne.
“Arynne!” Her name escaped Kay in a wail. The pressure against his chest shuddered.
She can’t save you forever, boy.
“Arynne!” Kay again threw all his will into strengthening their bond. Longing coursed through him. He desired to see her again, to hold her again, and to do so, to get through this and be with her, no matter how impossible that hope seemed, he needed to live.
Kay?
The air thinned. A warm breeze swept away the dark magic like bathwater washing away filth. Athan gave one last snarl, and his eyes went out.
Light shone around Kay, and he struggled to stand on shaking legs.
“Kay?”
He stiffened. The voice was no longer in his head but before him. The heartbond quivered with expectation and hope. He took a step closer, and the sheen of light diffused revealing her. His breath left him, and he crashed to his knees.
“Kay!” she rushed to him and cradled his head against her breast. “What happened? Are you all right?”
He slipped his arms about her focusing all his strength into the embrace. “I am now.”
Though he knew she was in reality miles away, she somehow felt real, warm and solid and ... perfect. He inhaled her scent, floral but with a hint of smoke. A smile quirked his mouth. “Have you been practicing your fire magic?”
“Whenever I have an opportunity.” Her fingers worked into his hair. “And ... and you? Are you all right?”
He hesitated. The interactions with Athan had shaken him. The idea that he might be in some way linked to his kingdom’s greatest enemy, to a man who wanted both his father and his brother dead, chilled him to the core ... but he couldn’t burden Arynne with that. Not now. Not when he was finally able to hold her again, even in a dream.
“I miss you,” he said simply. “It’s been so long.” He raised his eyes to her and caressed her cheek. “You’re so beautiful, Arynne.”
“You’re not so bad yourself ... though you could use a haircut and a bath.” She grimaced and pushed a stray lock of raven hair away from his forehead. “Are you taking care of yourself?”
“Of course. There’s just not much cause for grooming when traveling the wastes.” Feeling steadier, he considered standing, but instead gently tugged her onto his lap, drawing her against his chest.
She nestled into him. “How is this happening?”
“Maybe we’re dreaming,” he murmured, resting his cheek against her hair. It flowed about her face in wild curls, unlike the tight braids she’d worn when he’d first met her. While she looked lovely in both styles, the liberty of her curls struck him as more appropriate for her: fierce, unapologetic, untameable, all the things he’d come to admire about her.
Her brow furrowed. “I’m dreaming? Or both of us somehow?”
“Both, I guess.” He kissed her forehead. An unpleasant thought crossed his mind. “I suppose this means the distance isn’t weakening the heartbond the way Clindt hoped.”
Her chin dropped to her chest. “I could’ve told him it wouldn’t work ... but I wanted to buy us more time, stop your father from hurting you.” She cupped his face in her hands. “I know I need to bond with Olyn to save Frorheim, but Kay, I can’t stop loving you. It’s like the magic in my blood. I don’t think I could extinguish either without losing my will to live.”
He laughed quietly. “We both know you’re too stubborn to die over something like that.”
“
Or maybe stubborn enough to just stop if fate steals you from me.” Her hold tightened around his neck, and he knew better than to argue with her.
Still, this couldn’t be. Their connection doomed Frorheim. If she was fated to bond with Olyn, what did that mean for Kay?
“I don’t fit,” he murmured.
“I think you fit perfectly.” She kissed his cheek. “We just have to adjust some things.” A troubled look passed over her face. “I may have a way, Kay. I can’t share it with you just yet, but I’m working on something that might allow us to save the kingdom without losing each other. You have to hang on for me. I can fix this.”
Kay buried his face in her hair and tried to push aside his fears, but all he could think of was Athan’s assertion that only his death would save the kingdom. He didn’t want to die. Especially not now when his whole being hungered for life with Arynne, to love her fully.
But if the only way that could happen was if Olyn died so that Kay could take his place as Star Prince ... no, as much as he loved Arynne, Kay would never allow that to happen to his brother. If something happened to Kay, Arynne would recover. Maybe in time she’d even come to love Olyn instead. Maybe they’d be happy together. Maybe everything would be all right for everyone he loved.
“Kay!” Arynne’s voice sharpened. “Hey, I don’t know what you’re thinking, but I can feel what you’re feeling, and I don’t like it very much.”
He winced.
Stupid heartbond.
He forced a smile. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not.” She gripped him by the shoulders. “Look me in the eye and tell me you won’t do anything stupid, that you’ll take care of yourself.”
He swallowed. “Arynne ...”
“Promise!” she snarled, her dark eyes flashing.
The light around them shimmered, and Kay became aware of the rock floor beneath him. Though he could still feel Arynne’s arms around him, he simultaneously sensed his real body, still sleeping in the cave with the other wardens. Their connection was fading.
“I promise.” After all, if fate really wanted him gone, he wouldn’t need to do anything to bring it about.