“Bring me to him,” Victoria commanded Faeoris, knowing it would take longer to summon her swifen. “Now.”
“Finally!” Faeoris said, as she reached around Victoria.
Angst screamed in pain, and they jerked their heads up to see Angst being lifted into the air by the creature’s tentacles, his body listless.
The first lash was like a wasp sting, but the size of his leg. Two more attached to his armor, trying to drill into his flesh like teeth, but Angst stopped them short of penetrating his skin. The creature shook him in frustration. His brain rattled painfully in his skull, and he saw the familiar stars of faint. He was too distraught to attack but refused to completely give in. Two tentacles let go, the largest reeling back with a jerk. It threw him with such force that the crowd below him gasped.
A deafening noise shook their eardrums painfully; it sounded like a bark but was too loud to be from just any dog. Victoria and Faeoris spun about to face it, the Berfemmian’s fingers digging painfully into Tori’s arms when it appeared.
Scar, the giant monster dog with too many eyes, shiny steel fur, and now bigger than ever, leaped over a broken castle wall and grabbed Angst out of the air in his wide jaws. The enormous metal-coated lab landed at the opposite side of their battleground.
He pranced over to Tori, casually knocking over any creature in his way. Soldiers screamed as they flew into the air, merpeople were cut to shreds, and gargoyles exploded at the touch of his tail, which wagged with every step.
He stopped before her, his three metallic tails scraping noisily on the ground. His six glowing eyes made Scar appear vicious. Her jaw agape and arms held outward, Victoria inched forward. She heard Faeoris’s breath catch as Tori held out a trusting hand.
“Good dog, good Scar,” she said with a quiver in her voice. “Oh!”
The small head of a young girl with long black hair popped around the shoulder of the dog. She’d apparently found a spot, or one had been made for her, nestled comfortably between sharp steel blades.
“Hi,” she said, “I’m Kala!”
“Um, hi,” Victoria replied.
“Scar,” the girl said primly. “Release.”
Scar regurgitated Angst, letting him roll off his drooly tongue.
“Good boy!” Kala said, patting his neck.
Angst dripped off the giant dog’s tongue in a jangled mess, a wreck of dark dented armor, wet gray hair, sad eyes, and flushed cheeks. He coughed and gasped. Everything hurt from his body to his heart. He looked up at Victoria and grinned.
“Hi,” Angst said, his voice raspy. He let go of his two foci and pushed himself up to sitting.
“Hi.” Victoria looked ready to laugh, kneeling and patting his gooey shoulder. “Are you okay?”
“No, not even a little,” he said quietly, fighting every urge to start bawling. They remained that way for long minutes.
Finally, Angst took Faeoris’s offered hand and stood. He needed more—a hug from his best friend would’ve been a great bandage. But before he could reach out, Jaden tackled the princess in an embrace that screamed of marriage and children and every bit of future. Her eyes were closed, Jaden’s embrace was true. Their lips locked.
Angst turned from them to watch the oldest creature in Ehrde slowly swim away, as if his attack had meant nothing. He felt like an utter failure. Gargoyles swarmed after the creature, fleeing the castle in flocks. Mermen and mermaids dove into the ocean as if on show, soldiers of Unsel watching in awe, letting all of them part without further chase.
He dismissed the gamlin but urged them to stay close. They dove back into the ground, only a small one remaining near Victoria. It seemed they weren’t all completely his, after all.
A merman approached Angst and stared at him. He was different than the others, a blue oval almost seemed inked on his forehead. Angst hated everything, and wanted to kill this creature, chase after the green monster and destroy it, along with anything else that mouthed off. But he was exhausted, and he hurt. The merman just stood there, watching Angst with large black eyes, looking him up and down, his weapon sheathed.
“You loved her, hooman?” Angst heard in his mind.
Angst could only swallow, unable to fight back tears at the still-raw wound. He said nothing.
“You saved us,” he said.
“We don’t have to be enemies.” Angst choked.
“Maybe,” the merman said. “Tell Rose that Gendel...Creeper...is sorry.” He nodded once and patted Angst on the chest with his webbed fingers as though that would fix everything.
The merman leaped off the ledge, diving into the castle’s new ocean view, and swam away. Gone was the monster Angst couldn’t defeat, and the gargoyles, and Water. But Moyra’s people were free, and safe, and he could only hope they weren’t new enemies.
When he thought his heart couldn’t hurt anymore, he looked down to see Rook and Janda’s bodies lying next to each other, their hands touching. Angst knelt beside them to check for life. He felt nothing but cold, and in spite of his great power, there wasn’t anything his two foci could do to help. He closed their eyelids out of respect and looked up to see the desperate eyes of other magic wielders, several of whom were weeping. He nodded to them once but had nothing heroic to say.
Angst pushed down a guilty longing for Moyra. Knowing she was dead because of him was far, far worse than knowing she was lost to him, swimming around somewhere in the ocean. Her eggs, her babies floated at the bottom of the sea, alive and untended, and there was nothing he could do but wonder. He looked around and saw the dismayed eyes of a short, odd-looking creature, and Maarja. Saw Tori in the arms of a man he couldn’t stand. Saw the ruins of Unsel, of the maiden’s courtyard, and the bodies of Janda and Rook. Faeoris looked at him sadly, helpless. His other friends were nowhere to be found. He felt more alone than ever.
“Where’s my wife?”
65
A bitter, medicinal smell numbed her nostrils as she wrenched her eyes open. They fluttered as the room swam into view. She awoke to see Angst speaking with the physician, Nynette. It had to be a dream. Not only was he in the room, but he was smiling. A silly, child-like smile stretched from ear to ear. His eyes looked wet from tears, and without warning, he embraced the physician. Nynette’s eyes went wide, and her nose turned away as if Angst stank.
“I almost die, and you’re already hugging another woman,” she said huskily, her voice scratchy from screaming.
Angst rushed to her side and kissed her. It was long, dry, and full of love. Blood and muck caked his cheeks. He smelled of sweat, iron, and battle, and tasted of...fish? He pulled away to bury his face in her chest and hug as much of her as possible, digging his fingers between her back and the down mattress. She petted his gray, thinning hair and breathed his scent in deeply as he sobbed. She didn’t care why; she was overwhelmed by the fact that he was finally back in her arms.
“It’s okay, Angst,” she said soothingly. “I’m okay.” She grabbed her belly and felt around. “Wait, I am okay, right?”
The physician nodded and smiled. “A little bruised, but that’s nothing like the pain you’ll feel during childbirth.”
“Awesome.” Heather gently pushed Angst from his hug to look at his face. “It’s so good to see you.”
“You too.” Angst ran his fingers through her graying brown curls. “I’m sorry I’ve been gone for so long, but I’m back, and I’m healthy again. Everything is fine now. Better than fine.”
“What do you mean?” Heather frowned. “What happened to me? I thought I was going to lose the baby. Are you sure she’s all right?”
“She?” Angst smiled wryly before turning his head, nodding at the physician. “You should tell her.”
“Tell me what?” Heather strained to push herself up to a sitting position.
“Well...I’m sorry, I don’t know where to start,” the physician said quickly, red blotches of blush on her pale face. “I’ve never been wrong about this sort of thing before. Even after your l
ast examination, I could’ve sworn...”
“Sworn what?” Heather’s voice became louder. “What is it?”
“I guess I should say congratulations,” the physician said encouragingly. “You and Angst are having twins!”
Heather covered her mouth with both hands as she gasped. Her eyes sought Angst, who nodded. He looked proud, but tears poured freely down his face. “Oh. Oh, Angst.”
“I know!” Angst dove in for another hug.
“After all these years,” she sobbed. “I’d given up hope of having just one.” His cheek was pressed against hers; it was so comforting to have him home. “And now you’re back, and safe, and we’ll have babies and be a family. It’s everything I’ve wanted.”
She took in deep breaths and squeezed tears from her eyes. With her free hand, she wiped away bleariness to see bright lights over his shoulder. Two giant swords hovered horizontally at the entrance to her room. Not one sword, not just Chryslaenor. Two. A dark red hue shone around Dulgirgraut while Chryslaenor glowed bright blue, both swords resting on their tip by the doorway, as if guarding the entrance with the same pride she saw in her husband.
“Angst?” Heather pushed away, looking from the swords to him. “What did you do?”
66
Several days later, Faeoris found Angst in the middle of numerous domed buildings, admiring a large statue with a Nordruaut woman, a small, odd-looking man, and a pretty brunette with curly hair. A young girl with long black hair chased a lab pup, giggling as it pounced on a gamlin that dove into the ground for safety. Angst’s two great foci stood nearby, hovering on their tips. After she landed, Angst immediately gave her a hug before introducing her to Maarja, Jintorich, and Heather. Maarja inspected her with untrusting eyes but said nothing. He also tried introducing her to Kala and Scar, who were too busy chasing after a gamlin to be bothered.
“Am I interrupting?” Faeoris asked.
“Never,” he replied.
She looked up at the statue, lifting her hand to shade her eyes. The white marble man and woman were easily three times her height. The female had wild hair and a fierce disposition, and the male featured broad shoulders, muscular arms, and short curly hair. Both looked proudly toward Unsel. The statue was beautiful, and the couple looked like they belonged together.
“Who are they?” Faeoris asked. “Do they lead this city?”
“Dear friends, lost to this war,” Angst said, covering his mouth with his hand. “Rook led the wielders safely here. We’ve invited them to stay, and thought it appropriate if he and Janda watched over them. We’re calling this place Rookshire.”
“That’s beautiful,” Faeoris said, swallowing hard at the sentiment. She could hear Heather clearing her throat and thought it best to stay quiet for a moment.
“Did you have any luck?” Angst finally asked.
“None,” she said, and his face drooped with disappointment. “I’m sorry. I tried to find them. I flew all the way back home, circled the entire area with Marisha. There’s no sign of them at all.”
“It’s not your fault,” Angst said. “If it’s anyone’s, it’s mine. I’m sure my friends will make it back safely. They probably just took a different route.”
“What about Princess Alloria?” the Meldusian squeaked. “Has she been found?”
Faeoris merely shrugged, not knowing who the woman was, nor caring. She looked to Angst, who was pacing.
“Alloria is key to understanding what’s going on,” Angst said, wringing his hands behind his back. “She could be dangerous.”
“That little thing?” Maarja asked in surprise.
“Heh, well, I’m not even sure that little thing is human anymore,” he said, pulling the ruby ring from the chain around his neck. “Nicadilia and Crloc both wore these. Alloria and Vars too, and when the ring was destroyed, he supposedly died. Didn’t the tribesman you beat down in the cavern have one?”
“ANduaut,” Faeoris said, gritting her teeth. “I wish I could beat him again and... Wait.” She vaguely remembered something from the fight. “Wasn’t he with someone?”
“There was a tall, bald man casting spells on Rose,” Angst said.
“That’s it!” She thumped him on the chest, making him cough. “That’s the bastard who killed my mother! He offered us rings, and she refused. How could I not see that?”
“It sounds like there was a lot going on,” Jintorich interjected.
“This one man is infiltrating all the kingdoms?” Angst asked. “Why?”
“Or maybe a better question is, who?” Jintorich said. “Who would have such power to control life and death?”
“Why don’t you destroy that thing?” Faeoris pointed at the ruby ring. “That might get rid of her.”
“It’s our only link to Alloria,” he said, tucking it back in protectively. “If we can use it to find her, we can discover what’s really going on. When my friends get back, we should—”
“Angst,” Heather said in a firm voice. “Your promise?”
“Right,” he said, shoving his hands into his jerkin pockets.
“What is it?” Faeoris said, instantly annoyed at his change in mood. “What promise?”
“Heather is due, with twins now,” Angst said, but his smile seemed forced. “Her pregnancy was apparently affected by bonding with both swords. The physician said she could give birth any day now. I need to be here.”
“Pfft.” Faeoris waved at the air as though trying to swat away his bad idea. “She doesn’t need a man to give birth. Your job is done!”
“No, Faeoris, it’s not that simple,” he tried to explain. “As I was just telling Jintorich and Maarja, I have to stop. I’ve completely failed at being a hero. All I’ve done is gotten friends maimed or killed. You saw Dallow, and now Rook and Janda.” His voice caught. “Queen Isabelle and the Captain Guard murdered, and how many soldiers and wielders lost their lives? These things have made me dangerous,” he said, pointing at the swords.
“What are you saying?” she asked in frustration.
“I promised Heather, and I’m going to tell Victoria,” Angst said firmly. “I’m done adventuring. I’m done being a hero.”
67
Epilogue One
Melkier
Dusty looked about nervously, sniffing back his winter cold vigorously. He lifted a hand to wipe his nose and then yelped from the pinch of cold shackles holding his wrists back.
“Should we bathe it first?” asked a guard, nodding at Dusty.
“No time,” replied the second.
The chamber doors opened to the Melkier throne room, and the guards pushed the man through roughly. The room looked disheveled from the recent attack. Stone debris and bits of pale yellow and light blue flag lay in forgotten heaps throughout the hall. A sizeable crack had opened in the middle of the room, partially eating the throne.
To the left of the throne sat Queen Nicadilia, and beside her stood a very short man. Dusty couldn’t help but notice the queen eyeing the man’s stubby legs.
He’d never been within a stone’s throw of royalty and swallowed hard, fighting back bile and tasting blood in his mouth from his recent attempt to escape. He felt a blow to the back of his leg and fell to a knee before the throne.
“There’s no need for that,” the queen said. “Please rise.”
He stood but looked down at the stone floor.
“Look at your queen when she addresses you,” the stubby snapped.
The queen sat tall in her throne, her posture tense. Long blond hair framed her pale face. Her cheeks appeared sucked in, outlining her jaw with dark shadows, and her blue eyes bulged in a way that screamed of crazy. Nicadilia stared down her sneer at him.
The queen nodded toward the back of the room. He turned his head and sobbed aloud with relief. His wife and children were sitting nervously at a table covered with food. None of them ate, but instead stared at him anxiously. They were tucked in neatly to the squares insets of the Melkier table. They appeared well tended to
, and completely trapped. Trapped, but alive. He sniffed loudly before facing the queen.
“Show me,” she commanded.
“Pardon, Your Grace?” Dusty asked.
“Show me what you do.” She waved a finger, making a circle in the air. “Your...your magics.”
“I...” He was at a loss for words and thought. Was it a trap? Would he be cut down again? He was going to deny her, but the stubby man’s grimace told him otherwise. He sighed deeply; it was illegal, but the queen commanded it. What choice did he have?
There was a crunching sound, followed by a noisy ping of metal as his shackles flew free.
“You do...handle stone,” she said hungrily. “Quite well, it would seem.”
She stood and took several steps, running her fingers across his rocky body.
“Is that wise, Your Grace?” the stubby man asked.
“He’s not going to harm me, Crloc,” she said, still looking only at him. “Are you?”
He glanced at his family, shaking his head in compliance.
“Are you covered in stone, or do you turn to stone?” she asked.
“I’m really not sure, Your Majesty,” he replied, his voice now like the grinding of gravel.
“That’s fine. You still manipulate earth somehow, and that’s all that matters.” She walked up the stairs. “Did you see the destruction wrought by Unsel on our doorstep? Did you see my kingdom laid waste?”
“Yes, Your Highness.” He’d been devastated. So many lives lost, so many friends gone. “It was Unsel?”
“It was,” Crloc said solemnly.
“They disarmed us,” Nicadilia said. “Killed my father and ran off into the night.”
“Why am I here?” Dusty asked. “How can I help?”
“We have a choice, Dusty,” she said. “We can cower, or we can fight. Melkier weapons and armor were once imbued with dragon bone, making our soldiers almost invulnerable to fire and magic. Unsel stole that from us, and our weapons once again became useless metal. We need you to repair our weapons and armor, make them strong again.”
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