by H. L. Burke
Athan and Friya stepped back, and the fire flickered around them again.
“The kingdom awaits my triumphant return.” Athan grinned.
“I’ll see you gutted first!” Evyd raised his fist and flung it forward. No magic sparked to his call. He gaped.
A lump formed in Kay’s throat.
“You’ll find the star spirits have no power here, my dear brother.” Athan chuckled.
“But I used my magic here before,” Kay stammered.
“That was when you were here in a vision, with your soul still firmly planted in the mortal realm, in reach of the star spirits,” Athan pointed out. “Now you’ve been brought fully into my realm and out of reach of all that serve the light. Soon you yourself will be nothing more than sustenance for the dark counterparts of your precious star spirits. I’m curious to see if they will fall upon you or your sire first, but regretfully I won’t be able to linger and observe.”
“Farewell, Evyd.” Friya raised her hand in a mocking good-bye.
The fires roared about them. When they extinguished, both siblings were gone.
The screeching of dark beings grew louder and closer like an oncoming storm.
Kay tried to draw upon his magic, or at least to find his connection to Arynne, but those ties ended as abruptly as severed cords.
Was he truly dead? Worse, had he already been wiped from the mortal realm? Forgotten by all he loved and who should love him?
Arynne, please, you have to remember. I can’t fade from your heart. It would destroy me.
The starless sky grew darker, the blackness taking form until a twisting, churning slime filled the firmament overhead. It undulated over them. Flashes of sickly purple and green—the colors of bruised flesh—ignited within the murk.
Kay swallowed. He stood, exposed, on a barren plain. In the distance, however, jagged rocks broke the horizon. Shelter?
He grasped his father by the shoulder. “We can’t fight. We need to run.”
Evyd jerked away. “A coward until the end. Curse you! The prophecies were right. You brought about Athan’s return, and you’ll die in darkness.”
Kay’s jaw clenched. “The prophecy only came about because you tried to—” He stopped. Fury and madness contorted Evyd’s face. Arguing with him was a waste of what little time they had left, but Kay couldn’t just leave him. “We have no magic, no weapons—”
A chill wind kicked up, a gust sending Kay to his knees. Evyd faltered, but remained standing. The swirling cloud dipped in the center, a funnel slowly descending towards its intended victims.
“We need to run!” Kay repeated, shouting over the screams of the dark ones and the roar of the wind.
Evyd turned from him. He threw his face towards the clouds. “I have fought you all my life. You may devour me, but not without a battle!”
“Father, this is insane!” Kay grabbed Evyd’s arm.
Evyd backhanded him. Kay sat down hard, ears ringing and teeth aching. The cries of the dark spirits intensified.
“If we stay here we die,” Kay tried again. “If we die, no one will be able to warn Olyn. We need to run, to stay alive until we can figure out a way home. I can’t stay here. Whether you go with me or not—”
“Then leave!” Evyd spat at Kay. “I’d rather die alone facing the onslaught than cowering and hiding with a craven boy.”
Pain rippled through Kay, but it was the pain of letting go, not the more familiar pain of gripping a blade as it cut into his heart. He had no hope to save his father. Kay, however, couldn’t die here. He had too much to fight for to give up now.
Kay shot one last panicked glance from his father to their approaching doom before stumbling to his feet and sprinting away.
“Coward! Fool!”’ his father’s cries chased after him.
Kay didn’t stop.
His feet pounded on the hard ground. The wind bit at him, freezing his blood in spite of his racing heart.
He aimed for a large outcropping of black stone, slick and shiny in the eerie glow that permeated this cursed world.
A blood-curdling scream caught him like a fist to the gut. He tripped, landing on his hands and knees. His trousers tore, and his palms stung. He regained his footing, but couldn’t resist looking back.
The black cyclone penetrated his father’s chest. It drew him from the earth.
“Curse you, and curse the Ever!” the king screamed at the sky. “I received no help from gods nor man, but my whole life I fought you. I fought you alone, and I will face you alone now!”
Dark phantoms, winged things made of smoke and void, swooped around him, tearing, shrieking, ripping. Instead of blood, black smoke rose from Evyd’s many wounds. Still he raged, his voice rising in pitch and fury, until it devolved into a wordless, keening cry.
Kay’s knees weakened, but he ripped his eyes away. He raced across the dark landscape, heart in his throat.
He made the outcropping and dove behind it. He cowered, knees to chest, head to knees. The cold seeped into his flesh and chewed at his bones. He set his jaw, afraid the chattering of his teeth would reveal him.
Any moment now, they’d finish with his father and turn their attention to seeking him. They’d find him. They’d devour him. Then nothing would remain.
Arynne. Olyn. Please. I can’t be forgotten. Oh Ever, not like this. If anything I have done has been worthy of mercy, or if you have mercy for the unworthy, don’t let it end like this.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Arynne glared at Sigid. “What do you mean ‘Kay who’? Prince Kajik? Kay? We were just talking about him.”
Sigid’s brow furrowed. “You mean Prince Olyn? We were discussing his defiance of the king.”
“His defiance to save Kay, his brother!” Arynne snapped.
“Prince Olyn has no brother.”
Rage flared within Arynne, and she gripped her skirts to keep from shaking the maid—or slapping her. How could even Sigid think this was an appropriate time for such a tasteless joke?
A thunder clap shook the palace, and the light from the Starspire flickered.
Sigid gasped. “What was that?”
Arynne’s heart faltered. “I need to find Olyn.”
Sigid nodded, eyes wide. “He might still be with the wardens.”
As Arynne ran through the palace, she searched her mind for the heartbond. It remained, but inconsistently. Every time she took her attention from it, it faded like a dying memory, forcing her to focus and sort through her panic and confusion to find it again.
I’m coming, Kay. I won’t abandon you. Hold on.
Finally, she reached the hall leading up to the wardens’ barracks. The door at the end of the passage opened, and Olyn emerged. Her heart leaped. If anyone could help her, it was Olyn.
Forgetting her aching legs, Arynne sprinted towards the prince. At the sound of her slippers slapping against the polished stone floors, Olyn looked up. For a moment confusion wrinkled his brow, then his eyes widened and he ran to meet her halfway. She collided with him.
“Arynne, easy.” He laughed, his arms circling her. He drew her in for a moment, squeezing her against his chest and chasing away some of her nerves, before releasing her to arm’s length. “What’s wrong? You look like you’re being stalked by a grimbear.”
She opened her mouth to speak but found her lungs didn’t have enough air. Her head spun, the world going gray about the edges. She wobbled.
“Easy!” Olyn led her into the room he’d just exited. It appeared to be some sort of dining hall or meeting room with a long table. A few wardens were still exiting through the door at the opposite end of the space. They cast curious glances in the direction of the prince and princess but didn’t linger. Olyn eased Arynne onto one of the two long benches lining the table. Kneeling beside her, he rested his hand against her neck. “You shouldn’t be running around straining yourself. You’re still recovering.”
“I couldn’t ...” Arynne gulped in air. “I couldn’t wait.” The
room steadied, and she gripped Olyn’s hand. “Olyn, I felt something through the heartbond. Something terrible, and now it’s so weak. Something’s wrong. Something’s very wrong.”
Olyn’s eyebrows melted together. “Heartbond?”
Arynne glanced around the room. “Is whatever your plan is ready? Can you start now? We need to start now!”
He dropped his eyes. “It’s strange. I thought I was ready. I just spent half a brightening stirring up allies and making preparations. Then ... just as I ended this last meeting, something hit me, and now, I don’t know. I feel uncertain, like there's something important I’m missing.” He scratched at his beard. “I don’t even know why I’m doing this now, Arynne. Maybe this is a bad idea.”
Arynne’s jaw dropped. “You don’t know—”
The door behind them swung open, crashing into the wall and rattling its hinges. A harried looking Clindt staggered into the room, face red, eyes wide.
“There you are!” He ran over and pulled Olyn to his feet. “We need to ... oh spirits, what’s wrong with me?” He staggered back a step, gripped handfuls of his own hair, and gave it a painful-looking tug. “Olyn, something is wrong. Something is very wrong. I had something to tell you. Something important and ... it was a matter of life and death. I had it in my head that if I didn’t find you as soon as possible someone could die, then on my way here—my brain just stopped.” He shut his eyes. “It’s important though. I know it’s important and urgent and we have to do something about it, but I can’t ... something’s wrong. Something has happened to me. They did something to me!”
“Who?” Olyn stammered.
“I don’t know!” Clindt barked.
Arynne’s heart crashed into her stomach. “Evyd did something to make people forget Kay.”
“What?” Both men’s gazes snapped to her.
Arynne focused on Olyn. “Olyn, do you have a brother?”
The prince blinked. “Of course I don’t—” He stopped. His mouth opened and closed then his eyes clouded over. “Why aren’t I sure? I should be certain about something like that.” He put his hand to his chest. “I don’t feel well.”
Clindt shook his head as if trying to dislodge water from his ears. “Neither do I.”
Arynne’s stomach churned. What had Evyd done? Everyone had forgotten Kay ... except her. Why not her?
The heartbond.
There had to be a way to use that to help Kay, to show Olyn what he should already know. A memory surfaced, and she grasped Clindt’s arm.
“Clindt, do you remember before the heartbonding ceremony?” she asked.
He nodded. “Yes, I was supposed to bond you to Olyn but ... I didn’t for some reason.” His brow furrowed again. “Why didn’t—”
She shook his arm. “Let’s not go down that path yet. You were telling me about your wife, how you were heartbound to her.”
Clindt’s expression lightened. “Yes. I remember that.”
“You showed me her. Through the heartbond. How did you do that?” Bile rose into her mouth. If this didn’t work, she didn’t have a backup plan.
Oh, Ever, let it work.
“It’s simple, really. I just focus on my memories of her and channel my magic into contact with another person. If they are also a magic user, their magic should be able to convey memories contained in mine like an aroma traveling on a breeze.”
She bit her lip and nodded. “All right. Both of you, give me your hands.”
The men exchanged a quick look but obeyed.
Arynne drew a deep breath. Her earliest memories of Kay were meeting him in her homeland before she knew his true identity and relationship with Olyn. That wouldn’t provide enough context to be clear who he was to Olyn and Clindt. Neither would his strength and heroics on the journey to Frorheim, the many times he’d saved her life and kept her going when she didn’t think she could take another step in that cold, dark wasteland. No, the first memory that would help would be returning to the Starspire, of Olyn rushing to embrace his brother at the gate, of their father tearing into him for the loss of the other members of their party, even though it wasn’t his fault.
Arynne closed her eyes and remembered that brightening. She remembered Olyn’s relief as he held his brother, returned from a dangerous journey, of Kay’s awkward introduction of her to her betrothed—after she’d just kissed Kay for the first time. She winced as she recalled Evyd berating his son for supposed cowardice. How she’d sprung to his defense only to be dismissed. How Evyd had attacked Kay for daring to talk back.
Olyn inhaled sharply.
She pressed onward. The heartbonding ceremony, where they’d all gathered anticipating that the star spirits would bind her to Olyn, the older brother, the supposed savior of their kingdom, her betrothed. Her heart sang at the recollection of the magic choosing Kay instead. She could see the confusion and wonder in his eyes as the spirits drew him closer. The first rush of love through their heartbond overwhelmed her, and a tear slipped down her cheek. Clindt had been there, observing, bewildered by the turn of events, but swift to jump to Kay’s defense when Evyd had, as always, blamed Kay.
Opening her eyes, she found both men staring at her, a befuddled look on Clindt’s face and a pained one on Olyn’s. Focusing on Olyn’s eyes, she drew forth less specific but just as keen memories of Kay. Not particular moments, but things about him she treasured or that felt particularly “Kay.” His roguish smile, his hearty laugh, the hurt that so often crept into his eyes due to his father’s constant rejection. She tried to avoid more intimate memories, such as their kisses or their dimming spent in bed together, but flashes of it still slipped in. Olyn’s face reddened, and Clindt coughed. Cheeks warming, Arynne focused on Kay’s kind heart, on his willingness to sacrifice himself for her and Olyn, of his fear of hurting those he loved.
Olyn’s face pinched in agony. Tears rolled down his face. “How could I ... I forgot him? How did I forget him?”
Clindt broke away from Arynne’s hold and grasped Olyn’s shoulders. “You weren’t the only one. We all ... oh Ever!” His face went white.
“What?” Arynne asked.
“I remember now. It’s foggy, the details, but Kay’s in danger. Serious danger. We need to hurry!” Clindt took a step towards the door. “He’s in the dungeon.”
Olyn grabbed Clindt’s arm, pulling him to a halt. “I’ll travel us. The dungeon is warded against traveling in and out, but I can take us to the entrance, and we can run the rest of the way.” He motioned to Arynne who hurried to take his hand again. “Hold on.”
Magic crackled about them, and the world blurred momentarily. A gentle bump, like taking a sudden step down, and Arynne found herself and the two men standing in a completely different hall before an open doorway that revealed a darkened stairway beyond.
Olyn’s mouth formed a firm line. “Where are the guards? There should be guards at the top of the stairs.”
“I think your father sent them away.” Clindt winced. “He didn’t want witnesses. Come on.” He grabbed a starshard lantern hanging from a hook by the doorway and motioned them forward.
Olyn held his left hand aloft, his fingers glowing with the silver-white light of his starcasting magic. The hairs on the back of Arynne’s neck prickled as she followed the men through the doorway.
At the first bend of the spiral staircase, a light glowed up ahead. Arynne paused. They couldn’t be at the bottom already.
Clindt put out his hand, stopping Olyn and Arynne. “Who’s ahead?” he called out.
“You shouldn’t be here, brother,” a feminine voice echoed against the stone walls. “Nothing good can come of you meddling here.”
“Valka,” Clindt whispered. He then raised his voice again. “Are Mother and Uncle Evyd with you?”
“Mother has things to see to elsewhere, but she left me behind to be certain you didn’t do anything stupid.” Footsteps shuffled closer.
Clindt jerked his chin in the direction they’d come. “She’s
my sister. Let me try and talk her down, all right?” he murmured.
Arynne opened her mouth to protest, but Olyn stepped into the shadows and allowed his light to extinguish. Groaning inwardly, Arynne followed.
Valka strode around the bend in the stairs, her eyes narrow, a lit torch in her left hand, her right hand clasping her cloak shut from the inside. From the way her eyes focused on Clindt, not searching the darkness that hid Arynne and Olyn, she didn’t notice his companions. “You should go. Now.”
“I can’t do that.” Clindt shook his head.
“A pity.” Valka’s lips curled with contempt that belied her words. Anxiety clutched at Arynne’s heart. Her magic tingled beneath her skin, and she shot Olyn a worried glance. Shadows masked his face, but his posture stiffened.
“Valka, this isn’t right, and you know it. Whatever Mother’s intentions, no matter how pure they are, calling upon dark magic can only end in death and destruction.”
Valka laughed a high fluty laugh that bounced off the walls around them like a chorus of bells. Arynne shuddered.
“Oh, brother, it is so amusing that you still assume her intentions were ever pure. You really are too good for this world, and this truly is a mercy.” Valka’s hand darted out of her cloak. Torchlight glinted on a jagged metal blade.
“Clindt!” Olyn shouted. “Look out!”
Valka started, eyes widening at the unexpected voice, and her stroke fell across Clindt’s shoulder. Clindt cried out in pain and toppled against the wall, clutching his upper arm. His lantern hit the floor. Growling, Valka raised her knife again.
Arynne threw her hands forward. A burst of orange flame shot from her fingers even as a blinding light flashed from Olyn. Valka shrieked as two projectiles, one of fire, the other of silver light, slammed into her chest. She wobbled then toppled backwards. Her body rolled down the stairs before them in a series of sickening thuds.