Still, no matter his words, the longer Kole spoke on matters involving the Sages, the more suspicious he seemed to grow.
“Did you see the way she reacted to the news that the Quartz Tower had fallen?” he said. “You’d think she used the thing as bait, and its defenders. Taking stock of her old brother in arms and whatever new followers he’s brought along with him.”
“It doesn’t matter—”
“How can it not matter?” Kole asked quickly, his ire rising to replace the calm he had seemingly worked so hard to conjure.
“Because it’s done,” Linn said, breathless. “It’s done, Kole, and there’s no changing it now.” She hated how callous the words sounded. She pictured the old soldier, Guyy, and how blackened his fingers had been as he’d been attended to in the caves. As much as the queen’s dispassionate reaction had unnerved her, it had paled in comparison to the expression he’d worn—one that told Linn all she needed to know about the intent the Eastern Dark was bringing along with him.
“He’s desperate, Kole,” Linn said. “Valour is desperate.” He flinched at the name, but Linn wouldn’t hide from it any longer. These figures were no longer half-real stories from the depths of their collective memory, but kings, queens and warlords the world over. They were here, and they were ending. Best to say their names and be done with them.
“We don’t know why,” Kole said, shaking his head slowly.
“No,” Linn agreed, laying a hand on his thigh. “No, we don’t. But what does your heart tell you? That he’s come all this way, done all he’s done, visited such darkness on the world that it has never seen before, all in order to save it in the end?”
Kole didn’t answer.
“Ray Valour dies,” Linn said. “That’s how this ends.”
How quickly things could change and turn around.
Perhaps Kole was right, and that they were the best hope each other had.
She lifted her hand from his leg and turned it up, palm facing the sky and all its observing lights, fingers splayed.
“Together,” she said, tensing.
He lifted his own hand and placed it in hers, squeezing. His face hardened into a look of determination, one she had seen many times before, standing against the approaching darkness on the borders of Last Lake. There was no better look to see before a fight, assuming you were on the same side as him, and Linn would ensure that she always was.
“Sun’s rising,” Kole said.
Linn looked from him to the northern sky, which had begun to take on an orange haze that washed out the red scar she had forgotten.
They heard a rapid tapping sound coming from the southern hall and let their hands drop.
Shifa slid into the courtyard, clawed legs scrambling comically for purchase as she misjudged her speed and the changing conditions. Kole stood and greeted the hound while Linn peered into the blue gloom back the way she’d come.
She saw a hulking form with a more slender one beside it and stood, expecting to see the glint of golden armor and the most unfriendly face she had yet encountered in the north.
Instead, she saw familiar faces, albeit stretched tightly.
“Baas,” Kole said.
“Jenk,” Linn echoed. The two men nodded at them and then looked to one another.
“What is it?” Linn asked, heart quickening in a mix of fear and anticipation.
“Queen Elanil has ordered her knights out onto the ice,” Jenk said. “She’s going with them, and she … requests that we join them. She said—”
“Let us not gamble the fate of the world hiding behind frosted walls while the end approaches,” Baas interjected, his tone showing nothing of what he thought of it.
Linn looked to Kole and found him looking back, Shifa standing stiff, tail up and rigid, fur along the nape of her neck and spine making waves of its own.
“Guess she’s human, after all,” Linn said.
“Good to know.” Kole smiled.
“Then …” Jenk offered, looking from them to Baas and back again. “We’re going?”
Linn fixed him with a hunter’s stare that seemed to take him aback.
“Misha will be thrilled,” he said.
They ventured out farther than Linn thought safe, out beyond the northern wall of the crystal palace and among the frozen waves. Any fear she had of falling through the ice or finding an icy river just below her feet were quickly dispelled. The frost stretched out farther than she could see, and far deeper, the waves curling and held in the midst of all their fury, some reaching higher than the Untamed Hills of the Valley. The troughs between them went deep, so that the bases of the waves formed blue walls that picked up and reflected the brilliance of the day. And deeper still, Linn could feel the wind passing through chasms of untold depth.
Was the whole of the land Nevermelt? Had the ocean itself been tamed, held in bondage by the Frostfire Sage? And if so, for how long?
The sun carved the white-capped ridges from the blue of the sky and lit them like tongues of flame. It shone through the thinner waves, bathing them in blinding azure light so that their skin and armor—those who wore it—lost its golden glow for a time and instead recalled sapphires.
Still, no matter how solid the ground or how thick the ice, Linn knew they were in treacherous terrain. Too many hidden alcoves. Too many paths that twisted away out of sight, spilling them into valleys amidst the frozen sea.
Apparently, the Sage agreed.
“Ember,” she said, stopping at the bottom of the next soft blue rise. Jenk, Misha and Kole turned toward her from their various positions, none taking kindly to her tone. At first, she seemed taken aback by their confusion, and then she nodded, almost to herself. “Kole,” she amended.
He strode over to meet her as Tundra and Gwenithil, the Blue Knight Kole had fought in the red yard to the west, moved to stand closer. Linn matched them, and she nearly laughed when Shifa came streaking back into their midst from one of the sheltered alleys, kicking up tiny shards of ice as she went.
Not Nevermelt, then. Nevermelt did not chip or shatter. Not under the claws of a hound, at least.
They were surrounded on three sides by sheer blue-white walls, the salt shimmering as the day’s sparing heat did what work it could to warp the surface.
“Take two of my knights and two of your own,” the queen said, the only one in their company not squinting. “Preferably the fastest.” She nodded toward the trench Shifa had just sprinted out of. “He may have allies in the trenches and eddies. If he does, burn them out.”
The queen spoke with the voice of one used to commanding, being followed. Kole regarded her as one used to being commanded, albeit by different folk than she. He looked to Linn, who matched the stare. She thought of their exchange the night before—just hours before, in actuality—and hoped he would do his best to help them all get through the day, whatever it brought in its wake.
“What about you?” Kole asked.
The queen returned her gaze to the steep incline she had laid one silver-booted foot upon. It was the trough of a wave, and at the top, the salted foam curled back toward them, drenching the upper half in deep blue shadows.
She did not answer right away, but turned and looked back the way they’d come. Linn followed the direction of her gaze. Though they had traveled for the better part of the morning through a twisting maze of frozen cliffs and alternating hills and valleys, she could still see the shimmering jewel that marked the crystal palace. Linn focused. There, on the east-facing crenellations, she could see fur-clad soldiers standing with pikes and bows. There were three who wore golden armor and glinted blue in the first light of the day, which would not be up for long. The last defenders of a forgotten kingdom, clinging to the last rocks of a mountain range like a stubborn barnacle that did not know its time had come.
“He’s up there,” the Sage said, turning back. She extended one of her half-covered hands toward the crest of the frozen wave, twirling her fingers around, three covered in silver
armor and two bare. Linn thought she could see the air distort slightly around them.
There was a splitting sound. At first, it sounded as if it were coming from far away, but the next crack was ear-splitting. Linn stepped back and Baas and Misha matched her. As they watched, a splintered crack marred the underside of the crest, and the whole top of the hill began to slide down toward them. Tundra and Gwenithil remained rooted in place, and Linn did not know if it was out of faith or expectation.
Either way, the queen pressed her foot a little more firmly into the frost, her eyes locked on the slab that was picking up speed as it slid toward them, gathering bouncing shards of frozen salt along the way.
“A pity you can’t help me with this out here,” she said. Linn didn’t know who she referred to until the Sage tossed a quick wink at Baas, who regarded her flatly.
Maybe she did it for effect. To demonstrate more of her power, but whether to her new companions or the Eastern Dark, it was impossible to say. The slab shattered, but rather than shredding them to ribbons in a hail of stinging shards, those too burst into a powder so fine it felt like mist that coated their skin and the hafts of their blades. The shattering made a hollow, croaking sound as it split itself and raced through the trenches, lost to the reaches in the east.
“Go,” she said, and started her climb. Linn passed Kole and hesitated before him. He nodded to let her know it was all right and then motioned to Jenk to join him. Misha made as if to follow them, but Kole shook his head.
“You and Linn make a good pair,” he said, and then, to her somewhat doubtful look, “remember the road out of the Valley?” Misha eyed Linn and shrugged.
“Your spear would just get wedged between the ridges anyway,” Jenk said, patting Shifa on the top of the head as he joined Kole off to the side.
The hound and the two Embers moved to the split between the two ridges, waiting for the Blue Knights to join them. Tundra and Gwenithil had already started up the rise after their queen, and Baas followed after without a word. Linn heard a pair of thuds behind her and turned to see Cress and Pirrahn moving over to join Kole and Jenk. They seemed reluctant, and though their wounds had already healed, she had no doubt they remembered well the Ember fire from the sparring yard.
“Luck,” Linn said to them. Jenk smiled, as he always did, and Kole simply turned and shot off into the deeper blue, Shifa hot on his heels.
The way up was easier going than Linn would have thought. She had brought her bow along with her and used it to steady her as Misha used the butt of her Everwood spear to do the same. The incline was dusted over with a sticky layer of salt that gave their boots purchase.
She heard the wind howling before they gained the top, and then it hit her full in the face, whipping her hair back and taking the sight from her eyes for a spell as it dried the tears in place. Misha cursed beside her and began to slide backward, and Linn reached out a hand and snatched the Ember by the elbow, steadying her. It showed how far they had come together that the proud woman raised no complaint.
Baas waited for them at the top. He held his shield in his left hand and reached out with his right, pulling Linn up the rest of the way as she pulled Misha up behind her.
“A wild place,” the Riverman intoned. Linn could only nod her agreement.
Linn did her best to shield them from the violent gusts. They had not walked so far from the crystal palace, but it seemed the air followed whatever currents the ocean had left behind in its stillness. She caught the tails and turned away the barbs the open expanse threw at them, twisted them around like so much coiling rope, and soon enough, they were walking unencumbered across the surface of the frozen sea, a pocket of gathered wind swirling around them, picking up some of Misha’s heat in its tow.
The blue shadows were nowhere to be found up here. Instead, the sun turned the salt to an approximation of snow, and though there were slopes and cracks all around them, the vast emptiness that spread out in three directions took on a uniform look that Linn already found unnerving for its deception. One false step, and she would go tumbling into a crevasse that might yet find the rushing, violent waters of the eastern sea. One careless stride, and the cap of a frozen wave might break off and crush her beneath its screaming, scraping mass.
The queen stood a short ways before them, long hair blowing in the wind she did nothing to protect herself from. She was flanked by Tundra and Gwenithil, the Blue Knights standing tall and uncowed in their golden armor. They stood just a stone’s throw before a gap in the ice, but Linn did not see what gave them their rigid demeanors until Misha stopped and brandished her spear, the air popping with the threat of coming fire. The scent of ozone teased Linn’s nostrils and made the gooseflesh rise on her arms.
Baas stepped forward, bathing them both in the sheltering embrace of his ever-present shadow.
Ahead, across the gap that was wider than Linn had at first surmised, a man of average height stood bedecked in black armor with red tips. It recalled paintings Linn had seen as a child. Stories from the deserts and the heroes that populated them. She had seen it before, she thought, and the one to whom it belonged, though this man could not be called the same.
T’Alon Rane still looked himself. His skin was dark, though it had grown lighter than the last time they had met. His hair was longer, and, if it were possible, even darker than it had been. His face was weathered and tough, like leather stretched in the sun, and his brow was stern, his eyebrows harsh and his lips fierce.
The wind picked up and an errant gust took his unbound hair up for a moment, revealing ears that did not belong to a man Linn had ever seen. They reminded her of Iyana’s pointed ears, though these were wider and pulled back, close against his temples. His cheeks seemed higher than they were before, and more gaunt, and his nose appeared more hawkish.
But it was his eyes that had changed the most. In the place of the smoldering red and amber she had come to know—a darker fire than Kole carried in his gaze—there was a violet like twilight burning in a glade.
There was nothing left of T’Alon Rane, the King of Ember. There was nothing left of the man they had fought in the Valley core, and fought alongside at Center. The man who stood before them was no man. No Landkist. This was the Eastern Dark. This was Ray Valour.
On the whole, Linn found him rather disappointing. Maybe she was just getting used to the Sages and their forms. Fight anything often enough, and it became familiar.
“Who are those two?” Misha leaned in to whisper. “The allies the queen spoke of?”
Linn was so caught up in examining the changes the Eastern Dark had made to his Ember host that she hadn’t fully noticed his new companions. They were two of the strangest beings she had seen, making the Blue Knights look rather mundane by comparison.
One was a slender female. She had long, white hair that would have been beautiful, like morning snow, had the sight beneath it been different. Her skin, though blue, was darker than the Knights of the North, and where theirs seemed to glisten like gossamer or silk no matter the light, hers was like a drawn curtain, like ink a shade above black. Her eyes were not golden bursts, but red beads, and her teeth were filed to points. In the place of clothing, she wore armor, but as Linn focused, she saw the pores in the surface and could spot no seam between the black plates over her chest and the skin of her collar. In all, the stuff hardly covered her modesty.
“Bone?” Linn asked aloud. Baas grunted in the affirmative.
“What?” Misha asked, disbelief evident.
The other looked similar enough. He was a sick, sticky green, like the moss growing on the underside of a fallen tree. His eyes were deep enough to verge on brown, and in the place of long, flowing locks, his hair was shaved down to white stubble. His armor was less smooth than the female’s and full of knots and knobs, cuts and gashes. His fingers ended in filed blade points that looked like the teeth of Dark Kind, and above the bone caps of his knees, there appeared to be two jutting shafts of bone that looked like crude han
dles.
“Is this all of them, my queen?”
Tundra’s voice was low, but he put more force in it than he had to. The Eastern Dark did not rise to the challenge, only continued to focus on his counterpart. The one he had traveled across the world to kill, and in a body not his own. His strange, monstrous companions smiled, unconcerned with the Landkist’s bluster.
Elanil did not answer, and Linn began to walk to the right, following Misha’s lead. Baas started to lean forward, as if he might join the Sage and her royal guards. Instead, he moved parallel to Linn and Misha, keeping just in front of them, that great stone shield sweeping in a low pendulum that picked up a dusting of salt as he went. The blue female’s eyes tracked them. She seemed, if anything, amused at their garb, her bloody eyes sliding over their bodies, their faces and their weapons. She frowned as she took in the silver bow Linn carried absent an arrow to nock against its chord.
“Queen now, is it?”
The voice that emanated from T’Alon Rane’s throat made Linn stop dead in her tracks. There were shades of that low, sonorous voice beneath. A voice that projected strength and solidity. But there was a layer of crude oil laid atop it. It did not sound like the old man she had seen in that wooden fortress to the west, but rather like a younger version of the same. It was a voice that held a razor’s edge of danger, and a trickster’s scorn.
“Aye,” Tundra spoke for his queen. “You stand before Queen Elanil of the Eastern Sea, wretch. You stand before the last—”
“She won’t be the last of anything,” the Sage said, his violet eyes flicking toward Tundra quick as a striking serpent before settling back on his true quarry. “Not once the day is through. Not if the world she professes to protect is to endure. Isn’t that right, Princess?”
Linn watched Elanil take in her rival’s address, face a blank canvas, unreadable as only aged things can be. After a few tense moments, it broke into a manic grin.
The Frostfire Sage (The Landkist Saga Book 4) Page 55