by K. A. Linde
Everyone went silent at the incredible display of magic. Dean just grinned.
“This is a portal. It can take us far away from here. You will not have to cross the desert without water. You will not even have to fight your way past your councilman to exit Aleut. All you have to do is step foot through this door, and you are in Tenchala in the sand plains.”
“No way,” Jenstad murmured.
There was a chorus of dissent and disbelief around him.
“It seems impossible, but it is not. Cross this divide and see for yourself. But once you do, you are part of my army,” Cyrene told them. “The rise of the seeker means fighting with me. I am the Domina, and my people, all of you, are my Doma.”
Whether or not they had magic didn’t matter to her then. She was connected to all magic users—past, present, and future. She could sense the ones in the crowd who had it. She could tell how strong they were and what elements they could access. She knew the others that came with her were doing it with their hearts, and that was a magic all on its own. She could not deny a single one of them.
Quidera took the first stuttering step toward the portal. “I follow the Domina.”
Hulen reached forward and took her hand. They linked and then stepped through to Tenchala beyond. Their gasps of wonder were audible. Rita took Isabylle’s hand and followed fearlessly behind the pair. Alchia had to half-drag Cambria, Bratton, and Mags through, but soon, a crowd was forming to enter the portal. First in pairs, then groups, and then a flood as the true believers of Tyghan joined the Doma army.
Finally, there was just Cyrene, Dean, and Jenstad standing before Dalwin. A few people stared in disbelief at the sight on the sidelines. They had taken maybe a thousand through the portal. There had to be many, many more in Aleut. But it was enough to be horrifying for Dalwin. His skin had blanched and turned a sickly color.
“Jenstad,” Dalwin pleaded, reaching for his son. “Don’t do this.”
“You should choose this,” Jenstad said. “You should have chosen this all along. Mother’s death gave you no right to upend the old ways.”
“I didn’t. I—”
“I love you,” Jenstad said painfully, “but this is my path.”
Then he strode through without another word.
“One last chance,” Cyrene said sympathetically. “You could join us.”
“Witch!” he hissed at her.
Cyrene sighed. “The door is always open. Metaphorically. You are welcome to join the Doma if you choose.”
Dean nodded at Dalwin. “You should listen to the woman. She knows what she’s saying.”
Dalwin just glared at them.
And with a sad smile, she and Dean stepped through the portal into Tenchala and closed the door to Aleut behind them.
“That was dramatic,” Rita said, appearing next to them.
Cyrene shrugged. “I have a flare for it.”
“How exactly are we going to feed all these people?” Rita asked.
“That will be the first order of business.” She glanced up at the night sky. “Up until recently, this was a base for the Network.”
“Oh, don’t I know it, girl.”
Cyrene laughed. “Of course. You sent Fenix and Rhea here.”
“Indeed I did.”
“I think I’m just going to put you in charge of operations. Finding places to stay and getting people together for food. We’ll put Quidera in charge of the water seekers. Get everyone briefed and organized.”
“I’ll get on it,” Rita said. She nudged Jenstad. “You will be in charge of your niece.”
“Come on, Isa,” Jenstad said. “Let’s see if there’s really water in these wetlands.”
Dean blinked and then seemed to come back to himself. “Halcyon and Sarielle are a two day’s flight from Tenchala. They altered course when they felt the bond shift. Sarielle sounded none too pleased.”
Cyrene laughed. “I’m sure. How are you able to communicate across such distances?”
“It’s simple. I can show you later.”
Cyrene nodded. Two days. Two days until her dragon appeared. She didn’t know how long it would take for a thousand Tyghans to reach her army camped in Aurum. She had been gone nearly two weeks. So much had happened in that time. She didn’t know if they would accept her back, but things had changed. They had changed drastically. She had done no reconnaissance but had learned a great deal about herself in the time. And maybe that was just as important.
“And what will you do, Cyrene?” Rita asked.
She turned her gaze south toward the army beyond. “Prepare us to march and train. Train them all.”
18
The Beast
Ahlvie
Hunger.
There was just hunger.
Ceaseless, endless, eternal.
It ached through him. The him that was not him.
The beast.
The alpha.
Alpha.
He was running.
On a mission.
Kill. Feed. Kill. Feed. Kill. Feed.
The cycle never broke. It was what drove him. The him that was not him.
He had many with him. Hundreds under his command.
Brothers. Sisters. Beasts.
All of them with the same relentless hunger.
And they had one mission.
Find them.
Break them.
Kill them.
The him that was not him smiled. Foot-long fangs flashed. Gold eyes shone.
The him that was him…roared.
Screamed in his bondage.
Tried to force the change.
The change that would never come. That had been commanded out of him.
All those long months where it had become effortless, and now, it was impossible.
The beast had control.
The thing that was not him smiled.
And roared back.
It was stronger.
She was stronger. The goddess of death. The beast’s mistress.
The army came into view. Commands went out. The beasts spread out in unison.
And the thing that was him could do nothing but watch.
Do nothing as the beast sank its teeth into that first scout, leaving a bloody corpse behind, and continued on to the next.
And the next.
And the next.
19
The Enemy
Avoca
Avoca dragged her ice-white blade against the whetstone. The sharp scrape of the metal as she honed it to its deadly point soothing her in a way nothing else could, except utter physical exhaustion.
Orden kept commenting on her overexertion each day. That it’d do her no good to kill herself before they could get to the damn goddess and finish what they’d started.
She’d seen reason.
For that at least.
The tongue-lashing that he had given her for her words against Cyrene was another thing. He had sat by and let her say what they were all thinking. He did not like to admit it. She had had to. Cyrene had had no plan against Malysa or to save Ahlvie. She had risked everything for the woman she was bound to. Who she still owed a life debt. But she had not anticipated what losing her…husband would do to her. How it would hollow her out as if she had taken a spoon and scooped out her insides.
Worse was, in the days that Cyrene had been gone…the regret had settled in. Avoca had not wanted Cyrene to leave. Not really.
She was madder at herself. For she had not been able to stop Malysa either. Nor did she have a plan. In all this time, and she had no bloody plan.
The Eleysian army was in the middle of siege against the Aurum castle. Some imposter had taken the throne, and they had agreed that they had to secure the surrounding area. They couldn’t give up territory.
Avoca thought it as ridiculous as Cyrene had. Their enemy was in the north. But she had no interest in suicide. She had no interest in facing Malysa until she could sink her blade into the goddess of destruction’s
heart and watch the life drain out of her.
She dragged the dagger against the whetstone one more time when she heard the first scream.
She was on her feet in an instant. She didn’t wait as she dashed out of her tent. Her jaw dropped momentarily at the horde of black beasts pounding toward them. Then she recovered, her jaw set, her eyes steady, her blades ready.
She sprinted toward the beasts and not away, as many of the pathetic excuse for an army were doing. She had trained much of her first a hundred years to kill Indres. They were her natural-born enemy. Back home in Eldora, the creatures always tested the Leif boundaries and attempted to slay her kind. But none of these other people had probably ever faced an Indres. The war council had been skeptical of their very existence.
And facing an Indres only meant one thing at this point. Ahlvie.
He was her thought as she met the first monster. Huge and ferocious, fangs bared, attempting to take her life. She had no intention of dying today.
She vaulted forward over the beast, turning in midair and bringing her blade across the front of its neck. The thing went down in a heap. She landed easily and continued forward. Her success must have rallied the humans because they were picking up their own swords and calling their magic, joining in the fray.
Avoca didn’t need her magic. Not for the Indres. Not without Cyrene.
She had trained all this time to use her magic as a last resort. And now, it felt like an extension of her bound. Without her, it felt empty. She was deadly enough without it anyway.
She took down three more Indres, as humans fell all around her, before she had a break in the melee. That was when she saw him. She didn’t know how she knew. But she did.
Long before she noticed that he was the largest Indres by far. Towering over her frame. With clear, cunning gold eyes that skimmed her as the predator he was.
Ahlvie.
She lowered into a fighting stance and waited. He was clearly leading this brigade of the Indres army. This trifling of beasts sent to attack the army in Cyrene’s absence. But they were not undefended. They had her.
“Come, beastie,” she cooed at Ahlvie as a taunt.
She had watched Ahlvie over the last couple of months. The days he’d spent in that room in Kinkadia as Sonali tried to heal him. Heal was a very loose term for what that bitch had done to him. She had made the change immediate. No thought whatsoever. If anything, he had become more beast-like in these months, as the Bryonica witch had trained it into him.
Avoca knew everything about Ahlvie—man or beast. Her husband was about to regret picking a fight with his wife.
Ahlvie lunged toward her. She dodged his attack, jumping out of the way before his fangs could slice through her like cheese. He hadn’t held back an ounce.
“I know you’re in there,” she continued. Her breathing was even. She took easy steps sideways.
A circle had opened up around them as the rest of the fighting went on. As if he was keeping the rest of his pack at bay. This was his fight.
Ahlvie just snarled at her words and leapt toward her again. She slid her blade through his shoulder, evaded his swipe, and landed on her feet.
“Going to need to be faster than that, my love.” Her toe touched a second discarded blade on the ground, and she tipped it up to her hand with her foot. It wasn’t the ice-white blades of Eldora, but she was used to working with dual blades. It made her feel more balanced.
Then he charged. His movements quick, so damn quick. Lightning striking. She was glad now for the hours and hours she had been training. Orden had warned that she would exhaust herself. But she was in top form. No longer hurting from her coma. Ahlvie might be fast, but she was faster.
She plunged her blade into his back leg and pulled it back out. Blood spurted from the wound and splattered on her tunic. He snapped back in response, shredding his nails across her arm.
She held on to her blade by sheer force of will and deeply ingrained training. And only missed the second blow with a quick duck.
“You’re a coward,” she shrieked at him. “You’ll only come at me in this form. You could never beat me as a man. You’re weak. Why did I ever marry you?”
He sprang for her. He missed.
“Because I did marry you,” she snarled. “I married you despite the fact that you’re this thing and my enemy.”
He came for her again and again. Pushing her backward out of their protective circle and deeper into the fight.
“But I love you anyway, you fool. You idiotic, ridiculous fool. With your stupid humor and stories and cheating.”
He pressed his advantage, and she swiped her blade back at him.
“I loved you anyway. You married me in a small ceremony. You told me we’d go to Eldora and do it properly, you bastard.” Avoca pushed her own way forward, getting right into his face. Heedless of the fangs and claws and what he could do to her. She pushed and pushed until he had to give a foot and then another. She whirled and arced and twisted like she never had before. As if her very being depended on it. “You might be a cheat, but you don’t break your promises!”
Then something happened. She hadn’t even seen it. She didn’t know how she hadn’t seen it. But one moment, she’d had the advantage, and the next, he’d pulled her feet out from under her. Her back collided with the hard dirt with a thud. All the air exploded out of her lungs. She gasped and coughed. Her blue eyes went wide with horror as her enemy and the love of her life loomed over her.
Foot-long fangs bore down toward her throat.
She saw her life flash before her eyes.
Waited for that moment when it all was for naught. Her life debt to Cyrene would never be fulfilled. She’d never become queen of Eldora. She’d never see the end of this war.
Her own husband would slay her.
And then…he didn’t.
She looked up into those gold eyes, those impossibly gold eyes, and for a second, she saw something else. Something other than the beast. She saw him.
“Ahlvie?” she whispered.
20
The Attack
Cyrene and Sarielle had seen the Indres tracks leagues back. They had come out of the Hidden Forest and veered south. Despite the shock and confusion from the Tyghans, they had immediately picked up the pace. Even their amazement at the foliage around them didn’t stop them from running toward the waiting army.
The one that Cyrene hoped wasn’t slaughtered by the time she got there.
Dean and Halcyon flew at her right. Thankfully, the Tyghans weren’t too far behind them. She couldn’t be happier to have them at her back, knowing what she was walking into.
Cyrene looked to Dean and gestured to the right. He nodded and veered off to take the outside of the camp as it came into view.
She saw it then. The horde of Indres at the very heart of the army molded together by the Network’s spies. They hadn’t been prepared for this attack. They had only ever expected humans. A regular war with sword and shields and maybe a bit of magic here and there to tip the tides.
But this…this was a slaughter.
And then there, at the middle, she saw someone holding the line. A flash of blonde hair so pure, so vibrant that it could only be one person—Avoca.
She stood in the center of a perfect circle, facing off with an enormous Indres. Cyrene’s heart wrenched. She knew that form. Knew what it had to mean for Avoca.
Ahlvie.
Avoca was fighting Ahlvie.
“Down, Sarielle,” she commanded.
You should not interfere.
“I will not let either of them die,” she told her dragon as she dipped low. “But my duty is to my army whether they wanted me or not.”
Shall I breathe fire onto the beasts and see if they can survive my flames?
“Wait until I have them in retreat,” she told Sarielle. “I want to save the camp at all costs.”
As you wish. I will call Halcyon, and we will make retreat impossible. They will wish they had never
come to this fate today.
Cyrene smiled at Sarielle. Creator, she adored her. Then Sarielle was low enough to the ground that Cyrene could see the moment Ahlvie got the advantage on Avoca. Her falling backward, him moving over top of her, his fangs sharp and aiming for her neck.
Cyrene screamed in despair, “No!”
Then she vaulted from Sarielle’s back, rolled once, and came up with Shadowbreaker out of its sheath. She had traded her pure white gown with fighting leathers for practicality’s sake and was glad for it as she came up, covered in muck. She was no soldier. Not in the traditional sense. She had long lamented the fact that she could barely handle a sword. But what she had was Tendrille metal in her hand, light as air and immune to magic. What she had was her own magic at her beck and call. What she had was a Domina diamond at her throat.
She unleashed herself. Moving with the grace of all the Domina who had come before her. Her feet hardly touched the ground as she drove Shadowbreaker through the beasts. Watched their bodies fall to the ground dead.
Air blasted attackers away from the other Network magical users. She used earth to suck their paws into the ground like quicksand, leaving them so that others could dispatch them. Flames shot out of the end of her sword in a thrust toward an Indres that had gotten too near one of the tents. A girl fell over at the sight of the burning beast while she still grappled with her blade.
Cyrene kept moving, breaking the circle that had been left for Ahlvie and Avoca. It felt like hours since she had begun fighting, but it had to be only moments. For Ahlvie still stood over Avoca, prepared to kill her. She still stared up into his impossibly gold eyes.