Mageborn: An absolutely gripping fantasy novel (The Hollow King Book 1)

by Jessica Thorne

  Grace’s eyes were drifting shut. When she forced herself to open them again, she saw Bastien’s face. He slipped one hand under her head, the other under her body, lifting her. He was so gentle, even with such power flowing through him.

  ‘Don’t go,’ he whispered. ‘Not yet.’

  ‘I… I don’t have… much of a choice.’

  ‘Then I’ll go with you.’

  ‘Bastien… you can’t… You may still make the ship. Go.’

  Go, so easy to say. She didn’t want him to go. She didn’t want to go. His face blurred and when it reformed she saw tears burning in his eyes.

  ‘I won’t,’ he said, his voice shaking. ‘I won’t let you.’

  ‘I’m tired, Bastien. It’s… it’s cold… it’s dark…’ But the pain was ebbing away now, drifting off as her mind drifted in the other direction. His grip was so strong, but she hardly felt it any more.

  ‘Grace. Please…’

  But she was drifting and she couldn’t fight it. There were tears on her face. His tears. They glowed.

  Light faded. Darkness beckoned. Worse than before, when the building had collapsed and she had fallen. Bastien was gone. She knew that. Lost to her. His power was loose and what hope would she have had anyway without him?

  ‘There’s more magic in you than I’ve ever sensed,’ she had once said, kneeling before him. She hadn’t even known what he was, but somehow she had sensed it. ‘More than should be possible. More than should even be safe.’

  So much more than could ever be safe.

  Unless he wasn’t human at all but a god.

  She had been such a fool. Falling in love with him. What had she been thinking? Except she hadn’t been thinking, had she?

  The Deep Dark was calling. She had cheated it once, or rather Bastien had cheated it to save her. And now… now… it wound greedy arms around her and pulled her into its embrace.

  ‘Grace,’ his voice was a whisper. ‘Grace, don’t go.’

  Easier said than done. She had already gone. The darkness was calling. She couldn’t deny it any longer. On the brink of death, she released her hold on life, and fell.

  The explosion of radiance shook the world, the Maegen pulsating with it. Encircled in shadows, Grace watched it billow towards her, and he was there with her, in the depths, in the darkness.

  A divinity, he bled light into a world which should have no light. Beyond the shadows, she could see other things, other beings, creatures of teeth and eyes, claws and barbs, poison dripping from a stinger, glistening in a glow of life that should never have been shed on it. As Bastien drew closer, so did they.

  The Hollow King… this was the place he came from, the Deep Dark, the endless night. It wasn’t Bastien. Not really. It was the thing that Bastien could become if he lingered here too long. If those creatures got loose and made him their host…

  The light made them hungry.

  And she was the bait, the lure.

  ‘You have to go,’ she said.

  ‘Not without you.’ And this was the core of him. Loyal, stubborn, honourable.

  All she wanted to do was sink down to oblivion. Everything in the light was pain. Agony. Suffering. And him…

  His eyes were the eyes of a god, his power leaving her helpless. He was everything. Bastien could be gone. She knew that. So much magic, so much power, delving so deep into the Maegen and its shadowy underbelly, it would all change him.

  ‘You have to let me go.’

  ‘Never.’ The darkness pressed closer and he raised a hand, his light driving it back. She could feel the ripples of its rage. Its grip on her tightened still further. She couldn’t fight it any more.

  ‘Bastien…’

  ‘I can’t force you to do anything, Grace. I know that. But I won’t go without you. I refuse to.’

  ‘You’ll lose everything. Your identity… your memories…’

  ‘If I lose you it won’t matter.’

  And still Bastien didn’t go. Like ink in the water, the Deep Dark crept behind him, curling around to envelop him as well, to claim him.

  ‘You can still escape and live a life.’

  ‘There is no life without you.’

  The words hung there, startling and honest. And true. He meant it with all his heart. She could see that now. She reached out one hand, tearing through the black spider webs of nothingness clinging to her, and his hand met hers, light driving them back as his fingers threaded with her own.

  Grace’s consciousness entwined with his, knowing what he knew… That long ago he had been part of the Maegen, part of the Deep Dark beneath. That the light had brought him power and glory, joy. That the Larelwynns had stolen that from him. That the Hollow King was made of raw magic and they had tricked him into forgetting, time and time again, what he really was. That they had promised him a way to protect the mageborn, those born of the Maegen, and then used him to enslave them instead. That the light in her, that broken flame of Flint magic, reminded him of everything he had once been.

  And that now he was beyond any of them. He was the last Larelwynn because they were all his line. Not the other way around. Everyone that had deceived, coerced, drugged or seduced him… even those he thought he loved.

  Celeste had, in her own way, been right. She had tried to free him. But that wasn’t freedom to Bastien any more.

  The endless deep coiled around him. He wouldn’t fight it while he waited for her. He wouldn’t struggle or resist. If she was gone it could take him too. He wouldn’t know anything any more. He wouldn’t feel the pain of loss. He wouldn’t know of all the betrayal threaded through his life. He wouldn’t know what might have been. He welcomed oblivion too.

  ‘Go,’ she told him. ‘Please. Before it’s too late.’

  Too late. It was already too late. The man she knew – the man she loved, though she could never tell him that – was already fading in his golden eyes. The light was too bright, the darkness too dark. He was a shape made of pure magic, the heart of the Maegen.

  Without her, he didn’t care. He had come back for her and he wasn’t going to leave without her.

  No choice left. No other path. She had to stop this. All she wanted to do was rest but her duty was greater than that desire. Duty and honour over everything, truth and justice etched at her core.

  Whatever else, I charge you, protect him, Marius had said. He must live.

  It was the last wish of her dying king. A king who wanted a curse to be lifted, who wanted to set right an ancient wrong. A man who loved far too much. The only man who had ever shown Bastien love and what it really meant.

  Grace wrapped her arms around Bastien’s blazing form, and the fire in her rose to meet it. It was a faint, flickering thing, but it was hers. It was all she had. Like him. The Deep Dark recoiled, and all those eyes and teeth, the tentacles and barbs, couldn’t touch them. They burned too brightly.

  The door burst open. Bastien turned, still holding Grace in his arms to face this new threat.

  ‘Where’s Miranda?’ Aurelie yelled. ‘What have you done with her?’

  Grace shivered, trying to get her strength back. She needed to stand on her own feet, needed to help him. Now more than ever. For a moment he didn’t seem to understand what was happening, half in this world and still half in the Maegen. He tilted his head slowly to one side, studying this new arrival with eyes glowing gold beneath the fall of his black hair.

  Slowly, carefully, Grace regained her feet. She still hurt everywhere. Whatever he had done, she wasn’t healed but it was enough. For now. Enough to keep going. She coughed and it almost made her drop to her knees in agony but she couldn’t let them know that. Behind them Celeste slumped, limp and unconscious, the sigil still blazing at her throat, part of her, binding her. Bastien glowed with power, filled with a light like the sun. The air hummed with energy and Grace’s own fingers were ringed with tiny flames. His magic bled into everything.

  ‘We’re leaving,’ Grace said.

  ‘You? You’re not
going anywhere.’ The queen’s tone seethed with malice. ‘Asher.’

  Asher Kane held a sword. Not just any sword. Grace knew it instantly, although she had only seen it once. Even at this distance waves of cold came off the metal, ice emanating from it. It looked at home in his hands, part of him… or perhaps he was part of it. It seemed so much greater than the man holding it. It was called Godslayer for a reason.

  ‘Larelwynn’s sword,’ Grace said.

  Aurelie sneered at her. ‘Yes. I will control him. Or I’ll kill him.’ Her voice turned mock simpering. ‘A tragic turn of events. A spurned lover. A trained swordswoman. We just couldn’t stop her in time.’

  Grace forced herself to keep breathing, through the pain. Something stabbed into her lungs, almost dropping her. She held on, barely. ‘Her?’

  One side of Aurelie’s lips twisted up. She eyed Grace like a piece of dirt. ‘You.’

  Half a dozen crossbows trained on her from the guards accompanying the queen.

  So this was how it ended. He’d brought her back from the brink of death to face this.

  ‘Give me the warrant,’ Aurelie said, pronouncing each word like she was biting them off her tongue.

  Grace reached back and felt Bastien’s hand slip into hers. The hum of his power echoed through her body. She didn’t exactly know why, but she smiled. She didn’t have the warrant any more. It wasn’t hers to give.

  ‘No.’

  It was a word people like Aurelie were not used to hearing. Which made it even sweeter to say.

  The queen nodded. The crossbows snapped.

  Halfway towards her, fire consumed the bolts, turning them to ashes in seconds. The bows themselves ignited next, the guards dropping them, scattering backwards in alarm.

  Grace forced her breath to stay calm, even though her heart thundered inside her chest. Every beat was agony.

  ‘We are leaving,’ Bastien said, his voice as cold as winter’s wind.

  Aurelie didn’t even spare him a glance. Her fury was fixed on Grace alone. ‘So he obeys you now? Don’t you know what he is?’

  What he is? She might as well just call him it.

  ‘You control the most powerful weapon in the world,’ Asher said, before Grace could answer. ‘The most terrible weapon ever conceived. Marchant, you serve the crown. Your duty demands—’

  ‘I serve the crown, yes,’ she smiled sweetly, hating him with every fibre of her being. ‘I serve the king, the true king. And it is my honour to serve.’

  Asher lunged at her, the sword a blunt instrument in his hand. Grace twisted aside, pulling Bastien with her. The blade had to weigh a tonne, because Asher carried on past them, momentum sending the blade crashing through the table.

  He hauled it back, breathing hard, looking for them again.

  Grace’s professional mind kicked in. The sword was far too big for him. You’d need to be as big as Kai to wield it and Asher was slim and elegant. He needed his rapier, not a broadsword. A general he might have been, but not a soldier. Not really. That was the sword of someone who took battle to others, not one who directed it from behind the lines.

  ‘Asher, enough.’ Bastien’s voice reverberated with magic again and this time when Asher swung the huge sword, Bastien didn’t move aside. He reached up and caught it. With the Maegen’s glow wreathing his hand, he squeezed, and the ancient metal gave beneath his grip. It buckled, his hand imprinted in the blade.

  ‘What… what are you…?’ Asher Kane stammered.

  ‘I was your friend.’

  ‘You’re a monster. You killed my sister. You were never my friend.’

  A look of such sorrow ghosted over Bastien’s luminous face. ‘But I was. And this thing…’ He wrenched the sword from Asher’s hands and flung it aside. ‘It was never Larelwynn’s weapon. I was.’

  Asher dropped to his knees, defiant. ‘Hanna knew what you were. She warned us all, knew you needed to be controlled. Rightly. Look at you.’

  Look at him. It was hard to tear your eyes off him. The magic coursed through him and the more he used it…

  ‘Hanna?’ Bastien said, as if he couldn’t remember. And he couldn’t, Grace realised. More of his memories were gone. The Maegen was already eating away at his mind, his past, devouring who he was.

  ‘Bastien,’ she called urgently.

  He bent down and seized Asher by the throat. He looked at Grace, a question. She shook her head, hoping… no, praying he would understand.

  Asher Kane wasn’t worth it. Neither was the queen. Miranda, or Hanna, or whoever she had ended up being, was gone. Bastien’s sister was insane but he had bound her magic and if he gave up now, if he let rage and power destroy what made him Bastien rather than the Hollow King, Celeste would still win.

  How could Grace make him understand? How could she make him see? She couldn’t lose him, not now. Not like this. Tears spilled from her eyes, tears she couldn’t hold back any longer.

  She reached out her hand to him and Bastien dropped Asher Kane like a sack of rocks. Aurelie and the guards were in retreat, shielding their eyes from the glow, but Grace couldn’t move.

  He was full of light, full of the sun, fire and rage, pure unadulterated power. His form barely contained it any more. It would eat through him eventually and Bastien would be gone.

  ‘Bastien,’ she whispered. ‘I may not know what you are, but I know who you are, my love. Please, I want you back. Just you. Please…’

  And the light turned incandescent, like an exploding sun in the night’s sky. It was everything, all around her. His light which drove away all the darkness, more powerful, more dreadful than ever before. He was that light.

  Light filled her. She opened her arms to him and let in the fire.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Grace woke to a gentle rocking. For a moment she thought Bastien was still holding her, still saying her name, still glowing. But she found herself alone, in a simple wood-panelled cabin, tucked into a bunk. Her body ached everywhere but there were no obvious wounds. Certainly none as severe as she could recall Miranda inflicting on her. And this was not the Temple.

  Grace got up on unsteady feet and pushed open the narrow cabin door. Beyond it she found a passageway with similar slender doors. At the far end, steep steps led up on deck, and a hole with a ladder led down into the hold.

  Part of her wanted to call out, to find someone and ask where she was and what had happened. The rest of her didn’t dare.

  Instead she broke down what she knew, what she could see, what she could remember.

  She was clearly on a ship, but she had no idea how she’d got there or which ship it might be. It didn’t stink. It looked in good order. That had to be considered promising.

  She reached the steps and forced herself upwards. Overhead she could hear the wind in the sails, the shouts of sailors at work and the sea humming all around her while the hull creaked gently. They were under full sail in open water.

  As she got to the top of the steps, she heard something else; singing.

  On the deck, tucked out of the way beside a lower access hatch, a man sat, bent over a harp. He played with exquisite delicacy, and some care. Bandages swathed his hands, but they didn’t stop him playing. He sang gently, softly, a love song. Before him, watching and listening with rapt attention, Daniel Parry sat with his back to her.

  ‘It’s good luck to have a harper aboard,’ said a voice beside her. Grace turned, hand already reaching for a knife that wasn’t there. It was the Leanese captain whose daughter had been killed, Captain Vayden. He tilted his head. ‘We know the truth now. For that I thank you. And for the justice you brought.’

  ‘You came back?’

  ‘The Parrys sent word. Kurt was most insistent but then, that is his little brother. A host of blessed waited for us, he said, and there they were. Your mageborn. Refugees on the quay. You were more of a surprise. We were already clear of the harbour when you appeared.’

  Grace caught sight of Ellyn climbing up the rigging lik
e some kind of imp. As she watched, her friend did something, twisted herself around and dangled there laughing at the amazement of the sailors with her. Then she spotted Grace below and her smile turned even brighter.

  ‘Valenti,’ said the captain. ‘I sometimes think they’re half spirit.’

  ‘So do I,’ Grace agreed. But she had to get back to the matter in hand. ‘You said appeared…’

  ‘You’d better ask him about it. He brought you with him. Just appeared on deck in a halo of light. He drank deep of the pool, that one. What he remembers and what he had to offer in sacrifice… well, that’s another question. It’s a wonder he came back at all.’

  A wonder. That was one word for it.

  Bastien.

  ‘Where is he?’

  ‘At the stern, looking back. I offered him my cabin, but he wouldn’t hear of it. He let our healer examine you, just to double-check his own work, I think. The rest of the time, when he isn’t watching over you, he’s back there, looking aft.’

  At Rathlynn, she realised, at the kingdom of Larelwynn. At his home. His kingdom. Even if they couldn’t see it any more. Even though all around them was sea.

  ‘How long ago did we…’

  Leave? Arrive? Her brain wasn’t managing this.

  ‘A day and a half.’

  So long. Had she slept all that time? But she knew the answer to that. Many others remained.

  ‘Be gentle with him, Captain Marchant,’ the old man said. ‘He lost much. And his memories are scattered. He is greatly blessed now. The divine is on him.’

  That didn’t sound good.

  ‘Grace!’ Ellyn had climbed down and ran towards her across the deck. The warm embrace was just what Grace needed, though she would never have admitted it.