The Story Hunter

by Lindsay A. Franklin

  But then she redoubled her efforts. With a shout, she shoved her hands forward, and her night ribbons burst into flame. A stream of fire sailed by my head, grazing my shoulder. I bit back a cry.

  A night strand punched Mor in his shoulder—and sailed right through his body.

  I did scream then, because it seemed he must have been fatally pierced by it.

  Even Frenhin, shrieking out an insane cackle, seemed to believe she had not only stabbed him but had killed him. Then I realized—the strands that looked like night weren’t night at all. They were strands of death, and the one that pierced Mor ought to have ended his life.

  But it didn’t.

  The wind was knocked from him, and if not for my grip, he would have released my hand. But I held fast. And then he gasped, drawing the air back into his lungs, and his eyes widened.

  He glanced at me. “That was unpleasant.”

  “Are you—”

  A plume of fire sailed right between our faces.

  “The link,” Frenhin said through clenched teeth as she directed more fire at us.

  Of course. The link was protecting us somehow. Maybe his life was inseparably tied to mine while we were bonded.

  Whatever it was, I thanked the Creator for that protection and poured every ounce of myself into the kaleidoscope of strands cascading toward Frenhin.

  Two small hands appeared in my line of sight. Small hands covered in tattoos.

  “Diggy, what are—”

  “Trust me,” she shouted over the roar filling the cave. She thrust her hands directly into the bands of light flying over her head.

  Then she screamed loudly enough to peel the crust from the earth.

  “Diggy, stop!” Mor cried. “Move your hands!”

  But she wouldn’t. She kept them in the stream of light, screaming and flexing every muscle in her body.

  Why? Why was she doing this? The strands would kill her, surely. They were powerful, and Mor and I didn’t really control what happened when we linked.

  She was going to die. And for no reason at all.

  Trust me, she had said.

  But this?

  With a final roar, Diggy’s hands clenched. And then I saw. Lightning always seemed to crackle about the strands Diggy pulled from the sky and turned into weapons. But this time, the lightning filled every rainbow strand in the entire room. Everything Mor and I had created crackled and sizzled.

  And with a snap, the sparking rainbows vanquished Frenhin’s strands.

  All of them. Gone.

  Frenhin gasped and yanked her hands back. They were blackened and smoking as if the lightning had zapped her. She balled her fists and held them to her chest.

  “Diggy?” Mor’s voice brought my attention back to the floor where Diggy was hunched over. She was down on one knee, both palms on the stone.

  “Diggy!”

  Diggy glanced over her shoulder at her brother. “Mor, move. Your big head is blocking me.”

  We both turned and saw what she was doing. With her hands to the rock, she was coaxing the jar of white-lightning strands toward her.

  The jar rolled from a cleft up above. I could see it now that the rocks glowed with colorful light. It slid slowly down the wall, the strands moving it gently toward its destination.

  It reached the cave floor and swiveled toward us.

  The jar trundled to Diggy’s boot and stopped. She picked it up, eyed it a moment, and smashed it against the floor.

  I gasped. And silently prayed Dylun hadn’t seen her do that.

  But the white-light strands didn’t seem to mind Diggy’s jagged edges, nor the jagged edges of the broken glass. They swirled into the air. Diggy wasn’t commanding them, exactly. It was like she asked them—silently requested their help, and they responded to her intentions.

  Diggy’s head snapped toward Frenhin, and the strands followed.

  The traitor queen screamed again, and this time, I didn’t blame her. Two of the strands wrapped her wrists, then pinned her to the rock wall opposite from where she had chained Kharn and Braith. The third strand clamped around her waist and threaded its ends into the rock.

  She was completely trapped.

  “It burns!” Her eyes were wide and wild. “The strands burn me!”

  “Pity, that.” Diggy took a deep breath, then stood.

  She swayed on her feet, and I let go of Mor’s hand to catch her. She steadied herself on my shoulder. “I’m fine.”

  The three of us turned to find a quiet battlefield behind us. With the room lit up, it was plain to see the toll the fight had taken. Frenhin’s entire guard was either dead on the ground or had fled. And we weren’t without casualties either.

  Diggy surveyed the scene. “This first.” And she made her way toward Frenhin.

  Pulled out two of her daggers as she drew near.

  She stopped in front of the writhing Master. “Now. What shall we do with you?”

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  TANWEN

  We were beside Diggy in a heartbeat.

  “Diggy.” Mor placed a hand on his sister’s shoulder.

  She shrugged him off, her eyes fixed on Frenhin. “What would be fitting for someone who has brought so much pain to the world?” She cocked her head to the side and spun her daggers in her fingers.

  I took hold of Mor’s arm and lowered my voice. “Trust her.”

  Diggy continued to stare at Frenhin.

  “Do it,” Frenhin hissed. “Go on. Do your worst.”

  “That is a very dangerous thing to say to me. But if you insist.” Diggy shrugged, then sheathed her daggers.

  Frenhin’s face screwed up in confusion.

  “Now, sit there and think about what you’ve done.”

  Mor released his breath in a stream of relief.

  Diggy turned to him. “You’re going to have to learn to have a little faith, broth—”

  He scooped her into a hug before she could finish. And, fry me, she let him.

  But next I knew, the moment was shattered and Mor had his hand out, ready to release a strand. I spun about.

  Naith was slithering from the shadows toward Frenhin. He was bleeding still but not fatally, it seemed.

  “Master!” he cried out.

  “Naith! Get me down from here!”

  “I do not know how.”

  Frenhin writhed, then screamed. “Useless!”

  Naith flinched. “I am not useless. I have served you faithfully, Master, for so many years.”

  “You have always been useless. A foolish, stupid man I only used because you had the right title.” She squirmed against the burning strands. “I needed a priest, and you were more than willing to abandon worship of the goddesses to serve me instead.”

  Those painful bands were causing Frenhin to become reckless. Control was slipping away from her.

  “Prove me wrong!” she shouted. “Get me down from here!”

  Naith moved closer to her. He seemed to register for the first time just how powerless Frenhin was. “Why do you not create strands, Master?”

  “I cannot.” Frenhin strained against her bonds, her eyes filling with angry tears. “These strands have stolen my gift. I can’t create anything.”

  I felt a gentle hand on my back and turned to see Father beside me, watching what was unfolding. And there was Brac with two of his men, closer to Naith and Frenhin. Brac was bleeding from his side, but he was on his feet, sword in hand.

  “I loved you.” Naith stared at Frenhin. “I trusted you—believed in you. I did all you asked of me. But you never cared for me.” His voice rose. “You used me, just like you used everyone else.”

  Frenhin’s face twisted into an ugly sneer, and she opened her mouth to retort.

  But she never got the chance.

  Naith thrust his dagger into her chest. Surely he was aiming for her heart, but it was a difficult strike to land properly. She gasped and cried out, and Naith tried again. And then once more. Then a fourth, this time leaving the da
gger buried there.

  Frenhin let out a small whimper, then slumped over. Almost immediately, the white strands released her. Frenhin’s body crumpled to the floor, and she lay still. A flaming white strand snaked from beneath one of her sleeves and joined its fellows on the floor—Frenhin’s original strand, free after so many years held captive.

  Naith stood looking at his Master a moment, then he began to turn to us. But before he got the chance, he met Brac face-to-face.

  Brac placed his hand on Naith’s shoulder. “Likewise, Your Holiness.” Then, with the sword in his other hand, he ran his one-time mentor through the gut.

  I covered my mouth with my hands.

  I’m not sure what I had expected, but it hadn’t been that.

  Brac yanked his sword back, and Naith collapsed to the ground beside Frenhin. Brac caught me looking at him and lowered his eyes.

  I didn’t blame him for doing it. And I couldn’t bring myself to be sorry Naith and Frenhin were dead.

  Yet something else had died too. This was the other side of the coin. Brac was worldlier and wiser than a year ago because of betrayal and tragedy.

  The Brac of my childhood was gone. He was hardened now, and that opened up an achy spot of grief in my chest.

  With the help of the two men beside him, Brac made his way over to us. The blood darkening his shirt was significant.

  “Brac, you’re hurt.”

  “Aye,” he mumbled.

  Warmil’s voice startled me. “Already patched you up in this spot once, lad. Be nice if you could stay in one piece for a bit.”

  Brac nodded over our heads. “There’s more pressing injuries just now. Them first.”

  He meant Zel. Mor was already back at Zel’s side, and I hurried over to them. I hadn’t thought it possible Zel was still alive, but apparently he was. Maybe there was still a chance . . .

  But as I dropped to the ground beside Mor, I could see it was no use. It was a miracle Zel had held on this long, and I suspected it was only because Seni Kaizu had provided some aid.

  Mor clasped Zel’s hand. “Anything, mate. Ask and it’s yours.”

  Zel swallowed, his gray lips working with the effort. “Make sure Dafyth is taken care of.”

  Warmil loomed over us, and I glanced up at him, aware of the foolish hope on my face. He shook his head, lowered himself to the ground, and placed his hand on Zel’s sweaty forehead. “It’s all right, lad. You can let go. Be with Ifmere.”

  Zel took another shaky breath, and his chest stilled.

  Seni Kaizu immediately began to pull strips of fabric from a bag at his hip and wrap them around Zel’s feet. I saw now he had done the same with Karlith—she was swaddled in a cocoon of fabric from head to toe. I supposed it was a Minasimatese custom. When he got to Zel’s hands, he removed Zel’s wedding ring and handed it silently to Mor. Then he pulled another ring from his own pinky finger and handed that to Mor too.

  Karlith’s.

  “Come, Mor,” I said, my throat choked with tears. “Let’s not watch.”

  He didn’t move for a moment, but then he slowly stood. We made our way over to my father. “Who else?” Mor asked simply.

  “Two of Brac’s men—Farmer Hywon and Guardsman Bo-Droth. He was saving the Breseth boy.”

  Breseth, Brac’s cousin.

  Mor drew in a breath. “Anyone else?”

  “Your man, Gyth.”

  Mor’s former first mate.

  “Not Mor’s man.” Venewth was checking her bandages. “My man.”

  She bit out the words. But I saw her eyes glisten.

  “I’m sorry, Ven,” Mor said to her. “This is all because of me.”

  Venewth sighed and straightened. “You always did think the world turned on your word.” She took his head in both her hands and touched their foreheads together. “Don’t carry this one around, too, Mor.”

  And I had to agree with her there.

  “Well,” she said, forcing brightness into her voice. “Surely we have some ports to raid somewhere, a bit of pillaging to get to.”

  But before she could make her flouncy pirate exit, the floor rumbled beneath our feet. It stopped for a heartbeat and then rumbled again, stronger this time. I almost lost my footing.

  My gaze shot to the back of the room where Dylun stood examining the ancient strands.

  He looked over at us. “They are returning home.” Just as he spoke, the cave rumbled, and the four white strands snaked into the glowing, multicolored stone, disappearing from our view.

  Father gripped my arm. “We need to go. Now.” How many times had I heard him say those words over these past days and weeks?

  “Braith,” I remembered aloud. “We have to find her and Kharn. How will we ever get out of here?”

  “I marked the path out,” Father told me. “I think I can follow it and bypass all the detours we took to collect strands.”

  “Sounds easy.”

  He didn’t bother to reply, only raised his voice to the room. “Everyone, we need to get out of here! Immediately.”

  As if in response, the cave rumbled again. This time, I had to grab Mor to stay on my feet.

  Father motioned to the door. “You two, go. Find the queen.”

  We didn’t delay. Mor and I darted for the door so that our whole quest to save Braith would not be in vain.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  TANWEN

  “We could split up, but if we meet Dray I don’t want to—oof!” Mor’s sentence was cut short as we crashed bodily into a man coming from the other direction.

  Another shake from the mountain and we all stumbled. But as soon as my feet were beneath me again, I saw his face. “Kharn!”

  “The mountain is collapsing,” he said simply.

  Mor raised an eyebrow. “Aye, thanks for the bulletin.”

  “It is the strands,” a familiar voice said from behind Kharn. Master Insegno’s face peered around the larger man. “Hello, ragizzi. I see you are healed.”

  “Master Insegno?”

  “The strands have done their work and are returned to the mountain. But this has been very disruptive. Very disruptive, indeed. They are bringing an end to this place of evil.”

  “Then let’s get out of here.” Mor frowned as a third man stepped forward. “Who are you? Where’s Dray?”

  “Dray is dead,” Kharn said, “and this is Bo-Fergel. But there’s no time to tell you his given name, let alone explain any of this right now.”

  Dead. The word struck like a hammer. So many dead.

  “Is it safe?” Kharn asked, urgency in his voice.

  Mor’s frown deepened. “Sounds like the mountain is about to crumble down on top of us, so I’m going to go with no.”

  “I meant Frenhin. Is she . . .”

  “He wants to know if it’s safe for me to show myself.” Braith stepped from one of the doorways carved into the rock.

  Tears of relief sprang to my eyes. “Braith!” I threw my arms around her, then thought better of it and stepped back. “I mean, Your Majesty.”

  She gave me a weary, sad smile. “It is good to see you, Tanwen.”

  “All here?” Mor waited for acknowledgment from the others. “All right, then. Let’s get out of here, for stars’ sake.”

  Whatever Mor, Diggy, and I had done to the rock with our strands, it seemed to have carried throughout the entire cavern. The rocks pulsed with multicolored light, and I was almost sorry to see it all crumbling, so dazzling it was.

  All at once, I was glad I’d dissolved my strands and released Riwor and the others within a day of when we’d captured them. Otherwise they might still have been trapped in that cavern, rainbow walls about to crumble upon them.

  I couldn’t wish that end on anyone, not even Riwor.

  By the time we found the slash of daylight cutting into the rainbow glow from the cave’s low entrance, the ground roiled so badly we were crawling on all fours alongside everyone else who had survived the fight in Frenhin’s lair.


  Father braced himself by the small cave mouth and helped assist the others through it, although the opening was like a moving target the way the ground churned. He grabbed Diggy’s hand and pulled her toward him, then pushed her into the daylight. She disappeared, to safety, I hoped.

  The ground kicked up in front of me, and Mor was pitched forward, toward the cave mouth and out of sight.

  “Tannie!” His shout was muffled.

  Father reached for me.

  I grabbed hold, and he swung me toward the opening. Mor’s hand appeared, and I took it. He dragged me free of the rollicking sea of rock onto winter-laced ground.

  For a moment, I didn’t think Father was going to escape. It seemed he had waited to help everyone out and now couldn’t get out himself.

  “General!” Mor shouted.

  But then my father reached out from the cave and clasped Mor’s forearm. With one final tug, he was free, tumbling out into winter daylight so bright I thought my eyes were on fire.

  “Go!” Father yelled.

  And everyone stumbled away from the rolling mountain.

  Not a tick too soon. Whether the strands had been waiting for us to get clear or we were just lucky for once, the ground gave one final heave and the mountain collapsed.

  The intricately carved hideaway of Frenhin Ma-Gareth was now a pile of rubble.

  We lay there, all of us, as a cloud of dust billowed into the air above the toppled mountain. I counted twelve long breaths before anyone spoke or moved.

  “The strands are safe now,” Master Insegno murmured. “As is right.”

  And then suddenly, everyone was moving. Crawling to their feet, checking over wounds, examining their comrades.

  Dylun was kissing both Insegno’s cheeks. “Master Insegno, what are you doing here?”

  I left them to their conversation—Dylun would tell me the story later—and turned to Mor. He was still on his back in the snow, breathing heavily. “Mor, are you all right?”

  He nodded. “Just . . . need to rest a minute.”

  I touched his shoulder, then noticed Diggy nearby, sitting in the snow with her knees pulled into her chest, rocking back and forth.