A pack of a dozen of Arawn’s milk white hounds materialized in front of the hold, growling and braying. Another flurry of motion, and the commissioner was on the ground beside Dupin. Dragomir howled in pain as the beasts forced him to his knees as well. They were everywhere at once. They moved like lightning.
“Stop!” Charlie screamed.
The hounds, against all expectation, stopped. Marlowe began to push himself up, but the growls resumed at once. He sank back to his knees and the growls stopped. The dogs clearly were not releasing the men, and yet they had listened to Charlie.
Dragomir grunted. “They recognize your place, Suveran, even if you do not,” he said.
“It was Alina!” I called across the gap at Charlie. “Alina and Lord Arawn. They lied to us! Arawn is the new Dire King! He tricked us all! He’s going to destroy the veil. I need to get back up there before—”
Above us, Arawn’s voice boomed. “Trigger the actuator.”
“No!” I cried. “I need more time!”
All of us. Arawn was about to drain all of us. The life force of every friend and enemy alike on the battlefield was about to be stolen, only to be spent unraveling the entire world as we knew it!
“I—I challenge Lord Arawn to single combat!” Charlie yelled.
I stared.
From high above, a pair of ruby red eyes and a crown of midnight leaned over the edge of the ruined tower.
Arawn scowled down. “You have no kingdom on earth or in the Annwyn, mutt. Do not delude yourself. You’re no king.”
“They seem to disagree.” Charlie pointed. The snow white hounds were parting, giving Charlie a path into the tower. “And this is not the earth or the Annwyn anymore, is it? It’s something else. Something older.”
Dragomir smiled, his face awash with pride, as Charlie pressed forward. “I was wrong about you, Kazi,” he said. “You are every bit the Suveran your father knew you would be.”
High above, amusement danced in Arawn’s red eyes. I would have preferred rage. What was Charlie doing? He couldn’t possibly defeat the king. Nobody could defeat him! He had the gem!
Charlie swallowed. The broken sword in his hands looked sad and short. The hounds dipped their heads reverently as he passed.
I stood, frozen, as he reached me. Gingerly, he brushed his hand across my cheek. “Don’t waste it,” he whispered.
“Well, King of the Dogs? I’m waiting,” Arawn called from above. Charlie mounted the steps. I waited until he was halfway up the tower before I slid silently up after him.
Arawn regarded Charlie calmly as he finally reached the third landing. Even from below, I could see that Arawn was twice Charlie’s height. I crept up another stair and suddenly the king’s red eyes darted to me. My stomach turned.
“You were not invited.” Arawn waved a hand casually, and the hovering stone stairway suddenly remembered what gravity was. I screamed and scrambled frantically to catch hold of anything solid. My flailing hands found the machine’s nearest support beam, and I clung to it with all my strength. The heavy stones crashed and cracked as they fell to the ground below and I hastily found my footing on one of the metal struts, but the landing was on the opposite side of the tower and half a flight above me, much too far a gap to jump, even if I had dared.
“So?” Arawn said evenly, turning back to Charlie. “Are you going to kill me, King of the Dogs? You haven’t even got a real weapon.”
“I have enough,” Charlie said.
“Hm. A broken sword for the broken king of a broken kingdom,” said Arawn. “Can you even use it?”
“I intend to try,” answered Charlie. He sounded as though he meant it. Oh, God—Charlie didn’t even know about the gem!
“Well then,” said Arawn, leaning his face down close to Charlie’s. “Try.”
Charlie swung suddenly, taking Arawn by surprise and raking his cheek. The king spun backward. The obsidian crown tumbled from his head to land at his feet. He straightened as a ribbon of red healed itself along his cheek. The ruby glow faded from his eyes.
“You’re new to this,” Arawn said conversationally, “so allow me to offer you a little advice.” Charlie leapt at the king again, this time slicing Arawn’s arm with the blade. Again, Arawn shrugged off the attack. He glanced at the fresh split in his cloak, making a point to brush an imaginary speck of hair from the dark fabric before turning back to Charlie. “Never pick a fight you’re not prepared to finish.” Another slash. “Nor one you can’t afford to lose.” Slash. “Nor one in which you’re not willing to do what it takes to win. Now, really. Is that the best you can do?”
Again and again Charlie came at the king, and again and again Arawn took the blows with dispassionate irritation. He raised not a hand against Charlie in return. There was no anger on his face, only cold, calculating patience. He was toying with Charlie.
I could see Alina on the side of the control stage closest to me. She flinched and turned away from the fight, her face wan and her eyebrows knit with concern.
Charlie’s next blow drove the king to the ground. I gasped. Had the gem failed? Arawn did not stand up. He lay motionless, barely breathing. Charlie’s chest was heaving as he padded around the king’s body.
“Yield,” Charlie said, standing over Arawn.
Arawn’s back shook. He pushed himself up to one knee. He was laughing. He raised his head and appraised Charlie. “There it is,” he said. “That look in your eyes. I know that look. Standing over your foe, his life in your hands. You want to kill me, I can tell. You’ve never looked more regal.”
Charlie did look regal. His jaw was set and his eyes were hard. Even in his tattered rags, Charlie looked every inch a king. But none of this felt right.
“I don’t want to kill you. I want the killing to end.” Charlie turned his eyes to the battleground. “Stop this—all of you. Yes, we are different. Deeply, fundamentally, we are different, but being different doesn’t have to mean a decision between separation or confrontation. I have to believe there’s a third path. I have to believe that we can walk that path together.”
The hush spread gradually over the battlefield, swords and clubs lowering hesitantly as men and monsters and all manner of magical beings looked up. Even the shuffling undead slowed their shambling attacks as Mr. Tilde turned a disbelieving eye toward his kneeling king.
“Not a bad speech, Dog King.” Arawn’s voice was a purr. “But what is a king without a crown?” Obsidian glinted in Arawn’s hands.
“NO!” I screamed.
The jagged spikes of the Dire Crown pierced just beneath Charlie’s ribs, burying themselves deep in his chest, biting into him like terrible black teeth. Arawn raised Charlie up by that horrible crown, held him there until the blood ran down his arms in rivers, held him up until Charlie’s eyes—which had always been Charlie’s eyes, no matter what form he took—were no longer Charlie’s eyes.
Arawn dropped what was left of Charlie ungraciously to the stage and placed the bloody crown calmly back on his head. Wet streams of crimson ran freely down his face.
The whole world shuddered and darkened. There was no sound. Only when I found myself out of breath did I realize I had not stopped screaming. Some part of me would never stop screaming.
Charlie was dead.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Arawn threw the switch.
My vision swam. As if from deep underwater, I took in what was happening. The flower of metal disks up above us burst into light like an enormous beacon. All around the tower, soldiers staggered to the ground. The undead were the first to fall, sustained as they were by Tilde’s magic. I watched numbly as Shihab’s blue flames flickered and dimmed. Bird women fell from the sky. The earth shook as the giants collapsed under their own weight. For a moment, the confused humans watched the otherworldly creatures crumble around them and allowed themselves to hope that their salvation h
ad come—but then they, too, began to weaken and fall to their knees. The containment reserve above us trembled, lights blinking to life as it filled, gorging itself on the life force of friends and enemies alike.
Jenny hung in the center of the field, helplessly watching as they fell around her. She, too, was fading, thinning.
Charlie was dead. Help was not coming. The veil was falling. The Dire King had won.
I trembled, and the black blade nearly slipped from my grip. I held fast. Why was I holding on?
I lifted my eyes and saw the pain I felt inside my soul playing out on another face. Alina was slumped on the floor of the control stage.
“Alina,” I called out to her. “Please, Alina. We can still fix this if we act quickly. You need to believe me!”
“Kazimir is the only one who ever believed in me,” she said. Her voice sounded as numb as I felt. “All my life, he told me I could become more than what I was. Now? I don’t even know what I’ve become.”
“You’re the choices you make, same as all of us. Good ones, terrible ones. It’s never too late to start making better ones. Please.”
“You don’t know the choices I’ve made!” she snapped. “I believed in Kazimir, too! He always said he wanted more from life than to run away, but then he ran away! That’s what he chose! He was my light, and then one day he wasn’t there, and I was alone in the dark.”
“You’re not alone now, Alina. Please. Help me. If I can get this blade to Jackaby—”
“My kingdom is dead. My father is dead. My brother—I don’t know what to believe anymore.”
“Believe in what your brother believed in,” I said.
Alina wiped the tears from her eyes and glared at me. “In what?” she spat. “In you?”
“No,” I said, tossing the black blade to land at her feet. “In you.”
Alina blinked and wiped her face on her arm.
“I’m believing in you, too. I’m trusting you. For Charlie.” She picked up the sword. “Give that blade to Jackaby. Hurry!”
A dark resolve had come over her face. “A new sun is rising.”
Alina turned. She stepped up the platform—in the wrong direction. Jackaby was still crouched behind the panel. Alina took the blade directly to Arawn.
She held the sword high, offering it to him. I felt a sickening weight in my gut. After everything she had just witnessed, she was still serving the Dire King. Don’t waste it, Charlie had said. His last words to me. I felt dizzy.
Arawn pulled a lever and the light dimmed. The device hummed to a stop. The reserve had filled to capacity. In the field below, soldiers from all sides lay barely moving, barely breathing.
“I gave that blade to my daughter,” Arawn said, eyeing Alina skeptically.
“I know,” Alina breathed. “When you sent me to unlock her from her prison, I used it to cut her bonds.”
Arawn was dispassionate. “I have no need of it, little dog. I have my machine.”
“The Seer has need of it,” Alina said. Her jaw was set, but her eyes were glistening with tears. “At this very moment, he is seeking to usurp the power that is rightfully yours. He’s there.” She pointed to the panel. Jackaby’s eyes went wide.
My blood froze. How could she? I began edging along the metal strut, inch by inch, until the platform was nearly within my reach.
Arawn took the black blade. Tears streamed down Alina’s stony face. She broke. “Please, my lord,” she said, suddenly, clutching pitifully at his robes. “Forgive the disloyalty of my family.”
“You seek a place in the coming kingdom?” the king said.
“I do.” She straightened.
Arawn nodded. “So be it,” he said. He turned. “Our friend the Seer would like to share my power?” My eyes shot to where Jackaby was hidden. The thin snake of blue light was still dancing across his arms. His face twitched involuntarily.
“Let it not be said that I am not a reasonable king,” said Arawn, turning a small dial, “a generous king.” Arawn flipped a switch. “I will let him have his share.”
There was a massive burst behind the control panel. The feeble ribbon of light dancing through Jackaby became a thick bolt of lightning. Jackaby was lifted off his feet, his whole body convulsing. His eyes clenched as the blast crackled violently through his chest. No! Losing Charlie had been too much. Jackaby could not die—not like this.
His spasms calmed for a fleeting moment, and Jackaby’s eyes opened. I held my breath. He locked his gaze on me, desperate and intense. His lips parted and he mouthed two words. I’m sorry. And then his eyes rolled back in his head. Arawn switched off the device. Under the light of the humming machinery, Jackaby’s lifeless body fell from the tower.
Ice rippled across the battlefield. The wave of cold hit my chest. I couldn’t breathe. A shimmer of silver danced around him as he fell, and Jenny Cavanaugh coalesced.
Some part of me saw her catch Jackaby. Some part of me saw her hold him, limp in her arms, saw her lower his body to the frozen earth. Some part of me saw the furious icy gale whipping around her as she lifted his unmoving arms and pressed them against his chest. Compressions. Jenny had always been a quick study. Some part of me saw the mad, manic, furious hope in her eyes as she pressed. Another part of me knew it was too late. Jenny’s efforts were in vain.
Jackaby was dead.
I knew, because the moment his life was snuffed out, a blaze was lit behind my eyes. It was as though I had been stumbling through the darkness my entire life and somebody had just flicked on a light. It was everything Jackaby had ever described. Halos in hues I had no names for bloomed in front of me. They were the colors of pain and courage and distress. There were tastes of the air my tongue could not name. The smell of turmoil. The feel of distress. I looked out over the fields below, and the bodies piled across the frosted earth took new forms in my eyes. They were brighter, more vivid, but also more broken. The visions were beautiful and mad and they were true. I knew that they were true. I knew.
The sight had been Jackaby’s beautiful burden and his terrible gift. And now it was mine.
“It is time,” Arawn said behind me. “Alina, give me their power. Give me the worlds and I will give you your kingdom.”
Alina’s hand trembled as she threw the switch, and the triple bolts shot out once more, hammering into the waiting king. This time, the light was more beautiful than I could describe. It was magic and science and love and hate and the beginning and the end. It was pure and raw. It was life.
Arawn was more brilliant than a hundred suns. I could now see it, roiling beneath his skin, bubbling inside him. The energy of countless lives, their power and potential. He held the black blade as the energy crackled into him. It looked small in his hands as he aimed it toward the sky, and my mind reeled as I looked up. I could just make out the threads of the veil above and all around us. If I concentrated I could see the intricate charms that spun together to hold our two worlds apart. I could also see them rupture under his will. Tears streamed down my face.
And then Arawn stopped. The powers within him were churning, red hot. Something was wrong.
“Rrrrrrraaaaaargh!” Arawn bellowed. “Turn it off!”
Alina’s hand did not tremble. “No,” she said.
The king’s eyes grew wide, blood red and enraged.
“Let it not be said I am not a reasonable queen,” said Alina. “A generous queen. I am Alina Cane. Suverana of the Om Caini.”
Arawn shuddered. The energy was burning him apart.
“You—” He shuddered, unable to escape the torment. The crackling energy streams would not release him. “You . . . bitch!” Arawn whipped the black blade through the air. It sank into Alina’s chest.
Alina looked down, startled. Slowly, she pulled it back out and dropped it beside her. The injury had already vanished.
“Hafgan’s shield
,” I breathed. She hadn’t been groveling to the king after all—she had been pickpocketing him. Alina had the gem.
Arawn made a tortured sound that was neither human nor animal. He was beginning to glow so brightly I could hardly see him. My eyes watered. The metal beneath me shook. In another moment there was a sound like a hundred crystals all shattering into dust, and my vision went white. When the blinding light dimmed, the king was gone. The Dire Crown lay on its side in the center of the stage. Alina turned off the machine.
“You,” I panted, climbing the rest of the way up onto the platform beside her. “You did it.”
“No.” Alina sank to the ground. Her eyes were on the body lying at her feet. “I ruined everything.”
I sat down beside her. Charlie’s body lay still on the platform.
“You wanted purpose,” I said quietly. “That’s what your brother wanted, too—something to run toward instead of running away. The Dire King made you feel like you had found your purpose—but his purpose was never really yours. You found your own way, in the end.”
“Too late.” Alina’s shoulders heaved. “So many people are dead. My family—” Her voice cracked. “And now the veil is crumbling around us.”
“The veil can still be mended,” I said. “Jackaby—” I stopped.
“The Seer is dead,” said Alina.
“No,” I said, swallowing hard. “She’s not.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
My insides churned as the machine burst to life. I held the gem in one hand, and the black blade felt heavy in the other. The hardest part had been the crown. Neither Alina nor I had wanted to touch the terrible thing, but in the end I had put it on. Crown to focus the power. Blade to direct it. Gem to survive it.
I pointed the sword to the farthest edge of the unraveling veil and concentrated. The crown felt like a band of ice around my forehead as my mind cleared of all thoughts but the one. There was only the veil. I followed the patterns with my mind, willing them to knit together. I had no idea what I was doing. Bit by bit, the threads slid together and the two worlds slid apart. The veil was healing.
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