by Lisa Cassidy
“Magor-lier!”
Adahn’s voice, somewhere behind her. Ignoring him, she ran down the hallway, gasping through the smoke and heat. She made it into the chamber, lungs protesting the lack of air. Smoke was thick, the fire burning almost out of control as more tapestries caught alight. She stumbled blindly, watery eyes searching desperately for Dashan.
Another blast sounded behind her, and she hit the ground hard. Hunters came running through the broken doors, their medallions blanking her magic again so that when the next concussion blast came, she couldn’t shield. It hit the ground inches from her right foot. She dived and rolled to try and avoid it, felt a sharp pain in her leg as a piece of flying wood slashed open her calf. Blood immediately began flowing down her leg, soaking into her sandals.
“Magor-lier!” Adahn appeared, soot mixing with the sweat running in rivulets down his face. He helped her up, turned to face the Hunters coming at them. A loud challenge rang out—from a group of Leopards running to intercept.
As soon as the Hunters turned to face the new threat, Alyx took her opportunity and slipped around them, limping heavily. Fiery pain shot through her left leg with every step. Finally she reached the broken doors, shouldering them open and staggering through.
There was a flash of steel in the corner of her eye. She ducked, but was too slow to avoid the attack entirely. A line of fire erupted along her ribs, and someone shoved her backwards. She hit the wall hard, landing awkwardly.
Blackness threatened her vision, and she fought with everything she had to stay awake. Adahn came running, fending off her attacker and dropping him with a well-placed blow to the head.
“Is she all right?” Finn’s voice was dim, as if from a great distance, but it sounded desperate.
“She’s alive. Help me lift her.” This from Adahn.
“No…” she whispered, her throat too hoarse to shout anymore. “Please, no…”
Pain lanced through her ribs as rough hands picked her up, agonising enough to send her mind straight down into the blackness waiting to claim it.
Dashan.
Chapter 9
There was a faint, throbbing pain in her left leg, and an echoing ache across her abdomen and ribs. She cracked open her eyes, raising a hand to wipe the grittiness from them. Sun shone through the large window to the right of the bed she was in, and from its warmth she guessed it was late morning. Lifting the covers, she found both her ribs and left calf bandaged. Blood had seeped through the bandaging on her leg, though it didn’t look fresh.
Her heart thudded. What happened?
She shook her head, trying to remember. And then it came, the memory of the attack flooding back in a rush, bringing with it a panicked sweat. She fought to control her breathing and force away the urgent pull of utter fear. Dashan!
The last thing she could recall was the sight of him dropping to his knees, surrounded by Hunters. Sobs welled up in her throat, and when she tried to hold them back, she couldn’t breathe properly. Terror for Dashan roped through her veins, the thought of his loss more than she could bear.
“Calm down, Magor-lier.” An unfamiliar voice broke her out of the panic she’d been descending into. “You’re safe here.”
“Where…?” she managed, her eyes focusing on a tall Zandian standing by the bed.
“You’re in your room. My name is Nidra, and I am one of His Majesty’s personal healers. You’ve been hurt, Magor-lier.”
“What about the others with me? The Taliath—is he okay?”
Before he could respond, a sharp knocking came at the door. Nidra frowned but went to open it. Adahn stood there, Iman at his side. Alyx instantly struggled upwards, pushing off the covers. Pain shot through her chest, sharp enough to make her gasp.
“You’re needed, Magor-lier,” Adahn said, hesitating when he saw her wince. “Are you well enough to join the emperor?”
“She’s not—”
“I’m fine.” She gritted her teeth through the pain. “Dashan?” She managed the word.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know.” Adahn looked more uncomfortable than she’d ever seen him. “But you really should come.”
“Magor-lier…” Nidra began to protest again, but stopped when he saw the look on her face. “You’ll need a crutch, you can’t put weight on that leg. I’ll organise for one at once.”
The emperor was waiting for them in his main audience chamber as Alyx limped slowly in, trying her best to ignore what was now a morass of pain throbbing through her body. The walk hadn’t been a short one. But there was no time for weakness—she had to know what had happened to Dashan.
Surprise flickered across the emperor’s hawk-like face at the sight of her, and he hesitated. “My deepest apologies for summoning you, Magor-lier. I had not realised how hurt you were.”
“I’m fine.” She managed enough strength to stand up straight. “I…”
A door opened to the right to admit Tarrick, Finn, and Rothai. Her mouth opened to say something—she had no idea what—but closed sharply when a tall figure in black mage robes strode in behind them.
Galien.
The shock of seeing him after so long was like a fist to the stomach. Abruptly some of the strength went out of her legs and she leaned heavily on her crutch, the only thing stopping her from falling to the floor. He was bigger than she remembered, broad shouldered and muscular, but with the same pale skin and dark eyes. Her attention was so completely captured by the potency of his presence she barely noticed the two other council mages that followed him through the door.
Galien bowed low to the emperor before turning to face her, his stance relaxed, his power neatly coiled around him.
“Egalion,” he said flatly.
Her glance flickered to Tarrick and Finn—they’d remained off to the side. It was almost like they were trying to avoid what was coming. But that would be strange, why would they…she couldn’t read either of their expressions, and although her first instinct was to reach out to them for help, the memory of what they’d done flooded her, and she suddenly felt ill.
Taking a deep breath, she turned instead to the emperor. “Dashan? What happened? Is he…?”
“Dead.” Galien spoke the word, using a touch of telepathic magic to share the honesty of his statement. Tarrick flinched, taking a half step back as it reverberated about the room. Finn stiffened as Galien continued. “Somehow he survived the Hunter attack—at least thirty dead around him, very impressive—but it didn’t take much for me to finish him off.”
The only thing that kept her standing in that moment was Galien’s presence. She’d never backed down to him before, and never, ever, would, but inside she was shattering into a million tiny pieces. There was no physical pain any more, just grief, an unending void of grief that threatened to swallow her whole. She clung to her crutch with a desperate, white-knuckled grip. No. Please no. Not Dashan…
“You still haven’t explained why you’re here,” Tarrick spoke. His voice was rough, almost hopeless. All of them seemed to have forgotten the presence of the emperor.
“The council received your invitation from Lord-Mage Astor. They told him no, initially, but then one of our spies brought us information that our rogue mage of the higher order had become the lover of a Taliath, and that both would be here.”
Rothai started in surprise. “Your spies are wrong. There’s no relationship.”
A cold smile curled at Galien’s mouth. “Is he right, Egalion? There was no relationship? No sailboat ride from Alistriem to Ester a year ago? No stolen moments hidden away from your friends?”
They knew. How could they know? Her mind was broken, thoughts flickering in and out. Dashan, dead?
“Alyx?” Tarrick asked, sounding uncertain.
Finn was glancing rapidly between Galien and Alyx, with the familiar look he wore when his brilliant mind was rapidly putting pieces together. Bitter knowledge filled his voice as his gaze finally fixed on Galien. “You didn’t come to join us in petitioning the empe
ror. They sent you here to kill her.”
“Not her…yet.” Galien’s dark eyes watched her intensely. He knew how she was feeling—no doubt he was picking it all up with his magic—and he was delighting in it. “But the Taliath most definitely. Shakar made it easy for us in the end.”
“Yet?” Tarrick asked sharply.
For a moment her thoughts turned clear and bright. “He wants to know if I’m invulnerable first. I’m not. We loved each other but we were never lovers.”
Rothai’s shocked gasp echoed clear throughout the room, but Galien’s entire focus was on Alyx. “Can you prove it?”
She shrugged, not caring anymore. “Prove it any way you like.”
Galien’s hand flicked quicker than thought, quicker than either Tarrick or Finn could react. His telekinetic magic sent her flying across the room and into a wall. Something snapped as she hit the hard surface—another rib, if the stabbing pain was anything to go by—and she slid down to the floor, dazed.
“Disappointing,” Galien drawled. “If Shakar wasn’t still alive, I’d kill you without hesitation, but even as weak as you are the council thinks you might still be of some use to us.”
“Enough!” The emperor’s voice cracked through the room, drawing everyone’s instant attention. His voice held an intimidating mix of disgust and anger. Alyx shook her head. Her thoughts had muddled again. There was emotion, too, flickering in and out like a torch in a breeze—sometimes so strong she couldn’t breathe.
“If this is how mages behave toward each other I have no desire to ally myself or my country with you against Shakar.” His words had the firm ring of finality. “Magor-lier, you may stay until you have recovered, but there will be no more discussions between us.”
Leopards fell in behind him as he strode from the room, and the door slammed shut behind them. The echoes of it drifted through the silence left behind. Rothai moved first, placing himself in front of Galien. “Leave, now.”
Amusement curled at Galien’s mouth and he looked his old master up and down in contempt. “You don’t give me orders anymore, Master.”
“You’ve done what you came here to do.” Rothai didn’t rise to the taunt. He said something else, but the words weren’t clear—her hearing was fading out. She needed to get up, to get out of this room. Using the wall for balance, she dragged herself upwards, tears of pain welling in her eyes. It all hurt so much.
Tarrick and Finn moved as if to come and help her, but she waved them off, instead grabbing at her crutch. “Don’t,” she warned them. “I can’t even look at you.” Her voice broke, and she swayed on her feet.
“Alyx, please,” Finn whispered.
She shook her head, managed to stagger to the door. Adahn was waiting outside, mouth tightening at her appearance. Was he furious at her? Or just worried about the state she was in? He helped her back to her room, but she wouldn’t let him inside, essentially closing the door in his face. Thankfully Nidra wasn’t there either.
Alone in the darkness, Galien’s words finally hit home. Grief flooded through her, so powerful it washed away any other feeling.
Dashan. Gone.
Gasping for breath, tears streaking her cheeks, Alyx stumbled out onto the balcony, clutching the railing to keep herself upright. A short distance away, the two nearest Leopard guards saw her movement and began heading in her direction. She ignored them.
She had to escape, had to flee the pain, had to leave it behind or she’d go mad. Her magic could save her. Letting go, she sank down into the glorious strength of it. They could break her bones and bruise her skin, but they couldn’t touch this.
In a moment she was lifting into the air, soaring into the bright afternoon sky. The higher she went, the better she felt, until she was speeding away from Sandira with every inch of speed her magic allowed her.
She wasn’t sure, but thought it took her three days to reach the border of Tregaya. She kept going when the reserves of her power began to drain, kept going as magic burned like fire through her body, forced herself to go on and on, eventually crossing over the sliver of Shiven territory and into Widow Falls.
By then her entire body alternately shivered and trembled, her magic burning like fire with nothing but itself to feed on. Sheer determination had brought her so far, but as she reached Ladan’s home, her resolve died and her magic gave out.
She dropped out of the sky into his courtyard, hitting the ground hard. There was more pain then, and she whimpered. It was dark, and cold. She drifted in and out of consciousness, her mind focusing dazedly on the cold flakes of snow pressing into her feverishly hot skin.
“Lady Egalion!” Booted feet ran across the yard, then blackness overtook her completely.
Chapter 10
Alyx awoke once, briefly, with no conception of how much time had passed. Everything hurt, and she had no strength to move. Her thoughts were foggy. She had never been so weak or sick, and it would have scared her if she’d been lucid enough to think about it.
Somewhere nearby her brother was speaking softly to someone. She couldn’t open her eyes, or even turn her head, but just the sound of his familiar voice made her feel better. Ladan would keep her safe.
She strained to move, say something, but her voice wasn’t working, and the words she wanted came out as an incoherent mumble. Feet scuffed against the floor and then a weight settled on the soft surface she was lying on.
“Aly-girl, you’re awake?”
Alyx took a breath and opened her eyes, struggling to speak. “Ladan…I…”
His expression hardened with worry as he saw how weak she was, and he gently touched her shoulder. “What is it, what happened?”
“Attack…Sandira.” She fought to stay awake, to explain. “Dashan…they…he’s dead. I can’t…”
He flinched, and his hand on her shoulder tightened painfully. “Rest, Aly-girl, you’re badly hurt. It’s going to be okay, I promise. I’m going to take you home.”
“I…” Tears streaked unbidden down her face, and she tried to speak, to tell him more, but the effort was too much and she sank into blackness again.
Most of the trip to Alistriem passed in a haze of sickness. Sometimes she was aware of Ladan’s arms wrapped tightly around her as he rode, and the pain of being lifted down from the saddle each time they stopped usually served to wake her from whatever fever dream she was lost in.
Rarely, she managed to stay conscious long enough to manage a mouthful or two of the food and water that Ladan tried to get into her. Whenever she was awake, she couldn’t stop shaking, or properly catch her breath. Her body alternately felt like it was burning up with heat or shaking with cold.
Sometimes in the worst of her fever, she wondered if she was dying. That might have bothered her, but thinking took too much effort, and mostly she just drifted.
One day, her eyes flickered open to the glow of early morning sun lighting up the distant spires of the Alistriem palace. Shivers racked her body despite the thick cloak she wore and the warmth of Ladan’s arms around her. It was winter, wasn’t it? Maybe her cold wasn’t all fever.
“It’s all right, Aly-girl,” Ladan murmured—he was frantic but trying to hide it. She didn’t want to hurt her brother like that and tried to hold onto consciousness for his sake. “Just hold on a little longer. It’s going to be all right.”
Despite her best efforts, she drifted off again soon after. The firm challenge from the Bluecoats on guard at the palace entrance woke her. Ladan’s voice announced them, and she forced her eyes open as they rode through. They’d barely gotten past the gate when a familiar magic touched in her mind—Dawn, sensing her approach and wanting to know what was happening.
Alyx tried to respond, even if only to get Dawn’s increasingly panicked questions to stop, but she couldn’t. Her magic had completely burned out. It was gone, just like Dashan.
The horses’ hooves clattered loudly into the cobblestoned courtyard. Grooms appeared, but Ladan halted them with a sharp word and sent th
em scurrying back into the stables. Romney said something, voice lilting in question.
“I don’t want anyone seeing Alyx here,” Ladan murmured. As he spoke, he tugged the hood of her cloak further down over her face.
“Sir!” Another rider called for Ladan, pointing towards the steps leading to the main entrance. Two figures appeared at the front doors, taking the steps two at a time in their haste.
Cayr and Dawn.
“Romney, sort the horses and the men,” Ladan said. “I’ll come and find you later.”
“Yes, sir.”
“What’s happened?” Cayr was heedless of Romney’s men as he pushed through the riders towards Ladan. Dawn was at his shoulder, faced pinched with worry. Ladan shifted, hefting Alyx in his arms.
“Alyx is hurt badly,” he said in a low voice. “She needs a mage healer. Please tell me Leanli is still here?”
“He is, Ladan. He’s here,” Cayr soothed, clearly reading the growing panic in her brother’s voice. “Now give her to me.”
She found herself being lifted down from the saddle and into Cayr’s arms. As gentle as Ladan was, the pain of the jostling was intense, and her eyes slid closed with the force of it. A whimper escaped her.
“Alyx?”
Gentle hands stroked her hair back and she opened her eyes to Cayr’s deeply worried face peering down at her. There were dark shadows under his eyes, and new lines around his mouth, but he looked strong, as if adversity had burned through him and left only the toughest parts untouched. He flinched as he read the pain in her eyes, but then his embrace tightened a little and he gave her a small, reassuring smile. Something that had been wound tightly inside began to relax. She was home.
“What’s happened?” Dawn asked frantically.
“Dawn, go and fetch Leanli,” Ladan said briskly. “She’s badly hurt and there will be time for explanations later. Don’t tell anyone she’s here.”
“Bring him to the room adjoining my private quarters,” Cayr added as they began walking. “Nobody is using it. I’ll take her there for now.”