by Elise Kova
But something rooted her to the spot. The spark that had been crackling within her was ready to ignite into flames. And as she gazed up into the eyes of this spiteful man—a man who would kill everyone she’d ever loved if given the chance—something within her snapped with an audible crack.
“Your name.” The man reached for her hood, catching hair with fabric. But she didn’t cry out in pain. She didn’t even give any indication he was hurting her. She calmly met the eyes of the Knight she was about to kill.
“My name is juth calt,” Vi whispered darkly.
He shuddered, stumbled, and fell back—dead before he hit the floor. Several other Knights jumped away and drew their swords. These were men trained in war. They weren’t about to be swayed so easily.
The first lunged for her and she just stared at him, smiling.
“Mysst xieh,” Vi hissed. The words blurred together, but a shield of brilliant light sparked in the air before his blade could hit her. Vi ignited flames around the shield with a thought. He stumbled backward.
“What sorcery is this?” The man looked at his sword as though it had betrayed him and blinked at where the fire had been.
“The sorcery of the Mother.” Vi waved a hand and cast an arc of fire around her. It burned white hot—hotter than it had burned for Taavin. Men and women bounced backward, throwing hoods from their heads, exposing faces of pure ugliness beneath.
The fire caught, leaping from crate to crate. Soon, the warehouse would be up in flames. Its contents wouldn’t burn—the jewels would survive. The masonry of the building would endure. But she wanted to see them scatter like rats.
She wanted to see them burn until they were husks. She didn’t care about fate or crystals. She wanted vengeance.
She wanted—
“Firebearers, get those flames under control and get her!” Twintle’s voice cut through her thoughts.
Vi blinked and it was like coming out of a trance. Bloodlust had made her foolish. “Durroe watt radia.” Vi did what she should’ve done the whole time and made herself invisible.
The Firebearers among those gathered finally got control of the flames, but not until after they had consumed a fair bit. Others had already run out of the warehouse.
“Where is she?” Twintle demanded. Nothing more than a small spark illuminated the area. “Where did she go?”
“Father, there was an arc of flame all around.” Luke moved the dark soot with his boot that formed a crescent shape around Vi. “We would’ve seen her—”
“She said she was the Mother,” someone else whispered.
“Impossible.” Twintle approached, blessedly stopping at the line she’d created in the stone floor. “The Mother does not have mortal flesh, and if she did… she would stand beside our noble cause.”
None of the other men and women questioned his claim, though Luke seemed skeptical.
“A Waterrunner must have helped her escape. Search the area,” Twintle commanded, then looked back in her direction, ignorant that their eyes were locked. “Turn over the whole docks. I don’t want anyone to rest until the strange sorcerer and her accomplice are brought to me.”
Chapter Twenty-One
It wasn’t until after they left that Vi’s heart decided to knock against her ribs. Nausea rose up and she brought her free hand to her mouth, holding in quivering breaths.
She would’ve killed them all and delighted in it, even if that meant this world ultimately failed. Some part of her, a part she desperately wanted to ignore, knew that if she indulged in these urges there was no recourse. The worst that happened was the world ended, again. It’d be the ninety-third time. How bad could it really be?
Vi shook her head and closed her eyes, urging the thoughts away.
Yet they lingered.
They clung to her like Raspian’s magic, the tiny sparks of red lightning that had danced underneath her skin after she’d used the tear his magic had made in the world to get to the Twilight Kingdom—after she used his words. But she had also witnessed Yargen purge those tendrils of his magic from her when she was being remade.
These urges were her own. She couldn’t blame a dark god or desperation born of a dying world. Controlling herself and staying the course was on her own shoulders.
Taking a deep breath, Vi forced herself to calm and began moving. She relaxed her spell and pulled up her hood once more. She could hear people moving outside, low voices drifting in through the doorway. Vi crept forward, scanning the docks; most of the Knights had fanned outward and were now far away.
When she slipped out, the nearest Knight had his back to her, and Vi disappeared into the side alleyway.
She ripped the hood from her head, throwing it on the ground and running from it as though it was about to give chase. As though that was the source of the darkness she’d felt. She weaved through the city, eventually sprinting onto the main road. The castle grew in her field of vision and Vi didn’t even bother slowing her pace as she dashed by the guards stationed at the end of the drawbridge.
“You there—”
“It’s Yullia.” Vi spun, bouncing from foot to foot, stalling long enough for them to see her face before turning and resuming her run. They didn’t give chase.
Her side burned as she took the castle stairs two at a time—up the main staircase, then through a door into a narrow spiral stair. She bounded down a hall, not far from where the council chambers were. Vi didn’t even bother stalling to check if Deneya was there. Instead, she went right for her room.
The door snapped against the wall, reverberating with a low thud as she threw it open. Vi had to resist the urge to slam it in her haste. Instead, she slowly closed it, locking it behind her.
She raced to her bedside and hoisted the heavy down mattress, flopping it over onto itself. Underneath the mattress were woven grass panels, supported on slats of wood. Vi dug her nails into a panel, prying it upward. She set it aside and then carefully removed one of the wood slats.
With trembling hands, Vi retrieved the Sword of Jadar from its hiding place.
She clutched it to herself, shaking, holding onto it like a child she thought she’d lost. As though the Knights had found it while she was gone. As though she was the one being played the entire time.
Vi cursed under her breath and ran a hand through her hair, trying to get a hold of herself. She had killed before, she’d kill again. Yet something still rattled her about the feeling of how… easy it could be. She loathed the delight she could find in it, the feeling that there would be little repercussion.
Risking the end of the world should be repercussion enough. She’d sworn to end this and wouldn’t let her emotions get in the way.
Staring at her hiding place and reflecting more calmly on the events of the night, Vi knew it was time to act. Taavin had been right—she had to get the sword away from Norin, especially with Adela closing in. A plan formed in her head and Vi stood, starting for the door once more.
Down the hall and to the left was another room, nearly identical to hers. Vi gave a few soft knocks. Zira was a light sleeper. Anyone who made a living fighting for their life and others had to be.
“Yu—” Zira’s eyes dropped to the sword the moment she opened the door. A frown crossed her mouth briefly before it formed into a hard line. “What is it?”
“I have a task for you,” Vi whispered softly. “But it won’t be an easy one.”
“What is it?”
“I need you to die.”
“Excuse me?” Zira narrowed her eyes slightly. Vi had the distinct feeling that if she hadn’t built up such a solid rapport with the woman, she would already be cut down.
“Not literally. May I come in and explain?”
“You’d better.” Zira stepped to the side and Vi entered. Her fingers had gone numb from how tightly she was clutching the weapon.
“The sword needs to be hidden—above all else.”
“I don’t disagree.”
“I want you to take the Sw
ord of Jadar, tonight, and flee the city.” Vi leveled her eyes with Zira’s, knowing full well what she was about to ask. “I need you to take it, and I need you to die in the eyes of the people.”
“So no one comes after me?” Zira reasoned.
“Exactly. We will say you were doing rounds and were cut down by a man in the alleyways.” The alleged attacker would, of course, be revealed as a Knight of Jadar. “I will procure a body and there will be a Rite of Sunset held for you tomorrow afternoon.”
“Fiera will know then.”
Vi had been debating this ever since the plan began to solidify in her mind. “Yes. We can trust her with the knowledge that you are alive. But she won’t know you have the sword. She can’t know.”
“What will she think then?”
“I will tell her we devised a plan to counter the Knights, and they needed to suspect your death. Which isn’t untrue.” Vi wiggled her fingers on the blade and tried to relax the bowstring-tight tension in her shoulders. It did little good.
“And what will I actually be doing while I’m ‘dead’?” Zira asked.
“Take the sword and go to the Nameless Company, visit your daughter, and stay hidden for a time. Let no one there know you have it.”
“But they can know I’m alive?” Zira arched her eyebrows.
“Am I wrong to say I trust the Nameless Company to keep the secret?”
“Not in the slightest.” She grinned with pride. “The Nameless Company would all die fighting before they gave up my secrets… and we don’t discuss the business matters of others.”
“Go and hide there.” Vi took a deep breath. “After a month… maybe two—enough time that things have calmed here—begin to head East with the sword.” The crystal weapon needed to get as far out of reach as possible from the Knights of Jadar. And the East had managed to keep a crystal weapon safe before. She hoped they could do it again. “I’ll meet you in Cyven. Linger near the old senate hall there.”
Zira looked away and Vi could almost see the wheels turning in her mind as she ran over everything once more.
“If I leave now, wait two months, and then head East, there is a chance I won’t make it back for the birth of Fiera’s child.”
“I know.” Fiera was already well into her second term. The primary cleric overseeing her care was fairly tight-lipped about exactly when she suspected the baby had been conceived, which meant Vi’s suspicions about her pregnancy during the wedding were likely well founded.
Aldrik’s legitimacy was shaping up to be a thinly veiled lie. He had surely been conceived out of wedlock. But the Emperor was adamant that nothing untoward had happened before their wedding night. And if the Emperor declared his wife could have a child in less than the normal term, such would be the official truth as far as the rest of the Empire was concerned.
“I promised her—”
“I’m sure,” Vi interrupted, somewhat harshly, “this will not be easy for any of us. But Fiera understands the sacrifices of her position. She always has. And part of why I am doing this now is for the safety of her and the babe. I want the sword gone well before she’s vulnerable.”
I don’t want her to die, Vi stopped herself just short of saying. She wouldn’t risk this world’s failure for revenge on those who had wronged her family. But she would risk it to save lives.
No matter what Taavin insisted, Vi wanted Fiera to live. Her father needed a mother, the Empire needed its Empress. Her job was to prevent the Crystal Caverns from ever being tampered with, and who was to say—perhaps preventing Fiera’s death was the key to all that.
If Fiera lived, the Emperor might remain a more measured man. He might never seek out Vhalla to open the Crystal Caverns. He might even ease some of his brutality in the North.
When Vi looked at everything through that optimistic lens, the future had never seemed brighter.
“We have to do this,” Vi said softly, pleading. “We must, at all costs, keep the sword safe. This is greater than you, or me, or even Fiera. More hangs in the balance than I can explain.”
Zira approached her silently. Vi felt the weight of her stare and was struggling to keep her knees locked under the pressure it put on her shoulders in addition to all the pressure that was actually there. Zira reached out, resting her hand lightly on Vi’s white knuckles. With a reassuring magic only mothers seemed to possess, Vi stopped trembling.
“I will take the sword tonight and go.”
“Mother bless you,” Vi breathed in relief.
“While I gather my things, go and wrap it in leathers for me. I want it bundled so tightly that you can hardly tell it’s a sword at all.” Their roles had switched, and now Zira was giving the orders. “Then meet me down in the dungeons.”
“The dungeons?”
“You remember the way, I trust?”
“It was the first area of the castle I had the pleasure of touring,” Vi said with mock delight. How far she had come from that night. “Let’s move quickly, there’s no time to waste.”
Vi waited in the hallway that led down to the dungeons. It was a singular pathway—easy to block and defend against any kind of breakout. A guard lingered farther on, keeping watch. Though, judging from his heavy snoring, the only thing he was watching were the insides of his eyelids.
“Sounds like Topperen is on duty tonight,” Zira murmured as she approached. “I was hoping that would be the case.” She passed an iron key to Vi.
“What’s this?”
“A key to the cell we need to get to.”
“You’re not locking me away again, are you?”
Zira snorted. “The time for that has passed. Come along.”
They padded down the hall, tiptoeing into the faint glow of the room beyond. Sure enough, an elderly man was sleeping with his head tipped back, mouth open, drool cascading into the stubble of his cheek. He didn’t so much as stir as they inched across the room.
Once back into the relative darkness of the first row of cells, they moved faster again. Two men slept with their backs to the bars of the first two cells. Vi recognized the cell she had been thrown into as they passed it.
Zira led them down to the far end of the hall, to a black door nestled into a shadowed alcove. On the other side was a spiral stair, and down that was another hallway of cells that led to another black door.
Down they went—three, four levels of jail cells. Each level became more maze-like, with branches of halls leading off of it. Each level was more rough-hewn, carved into the bedrock that ran underneath the Waste.
Vi stared at the countless empty cells, wondering why there were so many. They seemed to stretch endlessly on into the darkness. All too soon, she answered her own question: the Burning Times. One of the darkest parts of Western history, during the reign of King Jadar, when he rounded up the Windwalkers of the East and used their magic for nefarious purposes.
She looked at the sword she was carrying. How many had died for this sword? Stopping the vicious cycle spiraling around the Crystal Caverns seemed as hopeless as counting every cell in this seemingly never-ending dungeon.
They came to a stop at an unassuming cell. With her thumb, Zira smoothed away the grime and cobwebs that coated the lock.
“Unlock it,” she ordered, and Vi did as she was told.
Zira entered the cell and went back to the cot in the corner. The furniture nearly disintegrated when she pushed it to the side and they were both left coughing through clouds of dust. But, as the haze settled, Vi could see a staircase winding down.
“A passage out,” Vi said, stating the obvious.
“Not used in over a year now. We might need to get a new cot to hide the entrance.”
“When was it last used?”
“During the siege, for scouts.”
“Is this the only hidden way out of the castle?”
“Yes.”
That explained why they never sent more than scouts. It was a secret too precious to be entrusted to many. And the passage appeared t
o be too narrow to fit more than a single person at a time—certainly not a way to get the mass amounts of soldiers it would take to launch a surprise attack out of Norin.
“Why didn’t King Rocham flee through here?” Vi asked.
“Because he was going to die on and for his land. The idea of flight or surrender never crossed the man’s mind. I only learned of it when Fiera entrusted me with that key—to save her siblings if that’s what it took.”
“Where does it lead?” Vi peered down into the darkness. It was so intense that not even the light of the torch Zira was holding could penetrate more than the first three steps.
“Southwest. It’ll let me out of a cliff side.”
“Just south of the ridge where all the nobles live?”
Zira paused, staring at Vi for a long moment. “Yes… How did you know?”
“I’m good with maps, and the terrain of the city made it an easy guess.” She wondered if this path was anywhere close to the one out of the Le’Dan estate.
Vi handed out the sword to Zira. With it, she felt like she was giving up a part of herself. She had never felt more vulnerable than when she watched Zira’s hands closing around the weapon. Doubt fluttered through her mind; the memory of Jayme’s betrayal rode on gossamer wings. Instinct told Vi not to trust Zira. But here Vi was, trusting despite every betrayal she had endured.
She was here in this world to bring about the end of cycles. And she’d start with the cycle of people she cared for betraying her.
“I’m putting all my faith in you with this.” Vi raised her eyes to Zira’s. “Don’t let me down,” she added softly.
“I wouldn’t. Letting you down would be letting Fiera down. If nothing else, trust that I will always do everything in my power to see the wishes of our Empress done. And she wishes the sword to be safe.”
It was nearly painful to uncurl her fingers from around the leathers. But Vi did it. “Fiarum evantes,” she whispered.