Onyx & Ivory

by Mindee Arnett

  Agony lit through his body, his mind, his soul. He felt the magic burn through every fiber of his being, a force trying to tear him asunder. He screamed, the sound swallowed up by the magic. Images ripped through his mind, of places he had never been, faces he had never known. Memories that didn’t belong to him. He saw Rendborne as a young man, a young prince and heir. He saw the uror sign, a grand eagle feathered in black and white. He felt Rendborne’s hatred and fear of the creature and all it meant, all it could mean. He doubted himself, resenting the way the sign made him feel less. He wanted an out, and killing it seemed the only way. But he didn’t know what would happen. He didn’t know the magic would react—that it would go into him, claiming him as its new vessel, its nature perverted.

  The magic’s corruption was slow at first, a festering disease. The high priestess banished him for his treachery, his brother named heir. They erased his name from all records. He wandered, lost in isolation as the magic ate away at him. Until at last it sundered him in two. He died, but the magic wouldn’t let go. It needed its vessel. It put him together again, broken and wrong and yet more powerful than any man should be.

  He learned to live again, but that wrongness consumed him even as it kept him alive, year after year, his power growing instead of waning. His hatred building until all he wanted was to see Rime and its people fall, to suffer and be subjugated, his to control and command at last. As it should have been.

  He worked for years, laying his plans while a new Tormane ascended the throne, then another. But the corruption taught him patience. Until he formed the alliances he needed with Magnar Fane, the Godking, Maestra Vikas, those like him. He drew anyone he needed, his magic making these tasks simple. When the new uror sign appeared, he knew it was time to act. He tried to kill the colt but couldn’t. No matter what he did, he couldn’t touch it. Something protected the creature from him. The princes, too, were beyond his reach. Even his daydrakes failed to kill them. But the magic that protected them wouldn’t last forever. Only he would last forever. He would outlive them all. Nothing could stop him. Nothing.

  No, Corwin thought. I will stop you. You will not win.

  A scream filled Corwin’s ears, and belatedly he realized it wasn’t his scream but Rendborne’s. The magic had reverberated, forced back by the power in Corwin’s uror brand. His mark glowed, brightly burning, pulsating with magic. Blinking through the haze of pain, Corwin looked up to see Rendborne crouched over, his right hand clutched to his stomach, the fingers blackened husks, like twigs charred in a fire.

  With an outraged scream, Rendborne turned and fled, calling for his golds to follow and protect him.

  Slowly, trembling all over, Corwin lowered his hand, the glow already fading from his palm. It was over, and somehow, he was still alive. So were the others. He got to his feet and reached for Kate, helping her to stand. Across from him, Dal picked up Signe once more, Bonner aiding him.

  “Let’s go,” Corwin said, “before he comes back.” He didn’t think he could face Rendborne a second time. Not now.

  With his arm around Kate’s shoulder and her arm around his waist, they hobbled toward the gate, leaning on each other. Long before they reached it, men on horseback came charging through the gate toward them—Norgard cavalry, with Edwin riding at their head and Grand Master Storr and Captain Jaol beside him. They halted, and Edwin surveyed the scene, taking in the sight of dead wilders and golds, drakes, and the crumbling ruin of the Hellgate.

  Then finally Edwin turned his gaze on Corwin. “Traitor.”

  Corwin flinched at the hatred in his brother’s voice, the condemnation in his eyes. “Edwin, if you’ll just listen. Rendborne has been sending wilders to Seva, to the Godking. He’s gotten away, but if—”

  “I let you go and you do this.” Edwin gestured to the carnage. “You join your wilder friends.”

  “Why aren’t you listening to me?” Corwin dropped his arm from Kate’s shoulder, shuffling her behind him, to shield her from anything his brother might try.

  “We will deal with Rendborne,” Grand Master Storr said. At least one of them had been listening. “This corruption in the Inquisition will not stand.”

  “Yes,” agreed Edwin. “Now step away, Corwin, while we deal with these wilders.”

  Captain Jaol raised his hands and the soldiers drew their revolvers.

  Corwin stared at the weapons. Each one would fire six rounds, and unlike the battle between magist and wilder, there was no way to cancel out the destruction here.

  “Edwin, just listen. This is wrong. The wilders aren’t our enemies; we need—”

  “The wilders are a threat. They always have been. Nothing will ever change that.” Edwin turned to the soldiers. “Shoot around my brother if you must.”

  “Wait!” Corwin held up his hands and took a step closer. “I am your prince and I say to put your weapons away.”

  The soldiers hesitated, torn between the two heirs.

  “Don’t listen to him,” Edwin shouted. He tugged on his horse’s reins, wheeling the bay about. “He’s a traitor. Kill the wilders!”

  Again the soldiers hesitated. Even Captain Jaol looked uncertain. Furious, Edwin drew the revolver at his hip and cocked the hammer, the barrel pointed at Francis, the wilder nearest him. Francis stared back, hands flexed at his sides and his chin thrust out in defiance. Edwin raised the gun, his finger tensed on the trigger.

  The gun split in two.

  Edwin flinched, watching the broken pieces fall to the ground.

  “Those were never meant to kill humans,” Bonner said, hand outstretched. He waved his arm, and the other revolvers broke in half as well. Corwin took a relieved breath. He glanced at Bonner, seeing the weariness in his face. How much more magic could he wield? Not enough. Not with so many swords. All the wilders were drained from battle, ill prepared for this fight.

  “This is your last chance,” Edwin said through gritted teeth. A vein pulsed in his forehead, his cheeks flushed with anger. “You must choose, Corwin. The wilders who killed our mother. Or your family, Norgard, your birthright.”

  Time seemed to slow around Corwin as he weighed the choices in his mind, feeling the burden of them, the absolute finality. He glanced behind him at Kate and the others. Then he glanced down at the brand on his palm, remembering the way it had glowed and burned a moment before, pulsing with magic, with promise. In that moment he understood—Edwin couldn’t take this from him. He could label him traitor, make whatever claims he wanted, spread whatever lies he wished—but he couldn’t deny the uror. The third trial waited for them both. No power short of the gods’ could stop it.

  Slowly, Corwin stretched out his hand behind him, fingers reaching for Kate. A moment later, he felt her hand slip into his. “I choose them, Edwin. I choose the hundreds who have lived under the shadow of the Inquisition long enough. They are just as much people of Rime as you or I. And I am their prince as well.”

  Edwin drew his sword, and all around him the soldiers did the same. The hesitation they’d shown with the revolvers was gone now. Swords meant a fair battle, an honorable death instead of slaughter. So be it, Corwin thought, reaching for his own sword.

  Something spooked the horses. Almost at once they all reared and spun, unseating their riders, men unprepared to hold on with the awkward balance of the swords in their hands. Edwin and Storr both fell while Jaol’s horse carried him away into the woods, the man clinging to her neck. The other horses followed.

  Edwin recovered quickly, sword raised once more. “Attack!” he screamed.

  The remaining soldiers rushed forward, one pace, two.

  “STOP!” The scream came from behind Corwin. He felt the power in the voice, the pressure in his mind. It rendered him still, incapable of moving, of doing anything besides listen. He watched Kate step around him to face Edwin and the soldiers—all of them frozen in place like living statues. She was doing this, same as she had sent the horses flying a moment before. Controlling them all with her magic. />
  The look on her face sent a shudder arching down his spine. Murder gleamed in her eyes. There was too much white in them, her teeth bared in a feral snarl.

  “Kate,” Corwin whispered, remembering the way she’d struck down Vikas with her magic. That was the only explanation for the way the woman had died, so sudden, like a candle snuffed by the wind. “Don’t . . .” Don’t kill them, he thought but couldn’t say. The reality that she could sent a tremble through him. But it wasn’t what she could do, only what she would do. A choice. Not yet made. Spare them, Kate, he thought. Have mercy.

  Seconds passed, the forest still and silent. Tension crackled in the air, all of the men aware that they balanced on the edge of a knifepoint, death a mere thought away.

  Finally, at last, Kate waved her hand. “Sleep,” she said. Instantly, the soldiers slumped to the ground, Grand Master Storr and Edwin with them. The latter crumpled to his knees, a look of defiance in his expression, even to the last.

  When it was over Kate turned to the others, a strange glow on her face, a distance in her gaze.

  “Let’s go,” she said. “I don’t know how long they’ll stay under.” She held out her hand to Corwin.

  He hesitated half a moment before taking it. Her fingers felt cold in his palm as they walked side by side past the sleeping soldiers. Corwin glanced down at Edwin just once, regret squeezing his chest. But there was nothing he could do for his brother now. His choice was made.

  38

  Kate

  THEY FLED WEST INTO JADE Forest, going as far and as fast as the horses and their injuries would allow. Kate rode without speaking, without thinking. Finally, with night descending, they made camp in a gorge at the base of the Cobalt Mountains. A narrow passage, barely wide enough for two horses abreast, led into the gorge, making it easily defensible should the golds or Edwin’s forces find them. Kate doubted they would. Despite what she’d said, she didn’t think the soldiers were likely to wake soon. The thought turned her insides cold, reminding her how close she had come to killing them all, as she had Maestra Vikas.

  It had been so easy. The power of a god. No wonder Rendborne desires it so much, she thought, remembering the envy she had sensed in him. The gods were merciful to deny him the power of sway. With it, he would be even more unstoppable than he already was. But what does it make me?

  A monster, a voice whispered in her mind, over and over again. She had used her magic to kill, and the sense of power it had given her had made her want to do it again, seductive as it was. Now, with the feeling gone, it didn’t matter that Vikas deserved it. Didn’t matter that it was righteous vengeance. The act left her hollowed out—and changed forever. She wondered if the others could sense the change in her, too, and she couldn’t look at any of them as they rode. Especially Corwin. She had seen his hesitation afterward, how he had feared touching her.

  Once inside the gorge, they made camp beneath the cliff at its base, a wide, circular outcropping. The sandy ground would make for soft bedding, and despite the steady fall of water from the stream above, it remained dry and warm. Raith and two of his blues hurriedly set the wardstone barrier while the rest gathered firewood and began tending the injured.

  Kate threw herself into the work, despite her exhaustion. It was better than facing Corwin or Signe or Bonner. Better than facing herself. She tended the horses, unsaddling them, checking for injuries, then rubbing them down. She lingered longest with Firedancer, savoring the comfort of the horse’s mind against her own. The fact that Corwin had brought the horse for her out of Norgard seemed to ease her fear a little. He cared for her, she knew. But how long could that care last now that he knew what she could do? Now that they both did.

  He has magic, too, though, she tried to tell herself, remembering the way he’d protected them with his uror mark. She didn’t understand how it had worked, what he’d done exactly, but she was glad for it. He had been the shield to protect them all. His is only for good.

  Yes, and you chose for the good, a voice argued in her mind, that is the same.

  Corwin, too, kept busy, doing what he could to help the magists work their healing magic before nightfall and helping to build additional shelters for the weak and the children who were with them. Most had been spared from the fighting, ordered to tend the horses during the battle. Most, but not all. One of the wilder boys had lost an eye in the fight. Kate spotted him lying on a bedroll near the fire, his head wrapped in a torn strip of cloth. They needed fresh supplies and to find permanent shelter. But where? They were all outlaws now.

  Once she finished with the horses, Kate wandered through the camp, searching for other ways to be useful. She felt eyes watching her as she moved, and she couldn’t help the guilt twisting in her gut. It was her fault these people were here. Only the more she looked into those faces, the more her guilt became anger. Yes, she’d contributed to the golds finding out about the Rising’s headquarters, but that wasn’t what had made these people a target in the first place. It doesn’t matter what we’ve done. We are hunted because of who we are.

  A hard resolve rose up in Kate. It needed to end. The hatred, the suspicion. The wilders had allowed it to go on for too long. We all allowed it by our hiding. By living in secret, they had let the world perceive them as it wanted to and not as they were. The Rising, which she had blamed for the oppression of people like her, wasn’t even fully real. It was a ruse, conjured to keep the people of Rime—wilder or no—afraid.

  I am done with hiding, Kate thought. No matter what the others think. This, at least, she could be sure of.

  Realizing there wasn’t any work left to do, Kate headed to the stream to clean up. She soaked her hands, scrubbing away at the dirt. Then she washed her face. She undid her plait, combed her fingers through it, then redid the braid. At last she stood and ran her hands down her clothes, trying to smooth out the wrinkles. Feeling something in her pocket, she reached inside it and withdrew the blood crystal. She examined it for several minutes, unsure what to do with it. Then, finally, she tied it around her neck. The crystal warmed against her chest. It was strange, almost perverse, knowing her father’s blood resided inside it, and yet, it was right, too. Here he was, protecting her once more as he’d always done before. I will give it to Kiran, she silently swore. Once I find him.

  Kate made her way to Signe, lying on a bedroll in front of a fire with her injured foot propped up on a saddle. Kate sat down beside her. Signe reached over and took her hand, squeezing her fingers.

  “You did well,” Signe said. “In the end, you saved us all.”

  Kate bit her lip, uncertain how to reply. She knew better than to deny it, not to Signe, but she didn’t want to accept the praise either.

  “How about you? Are you going to be okay?”

  Signe nodded, meeting her gaze with no hesitation. She raised a hand to the scar on her face. “Does it make me look a fierce warrior?”

  Kate smiled. “The fiercest of fierce.”

  “Good. It’s nice that my outsides finally match my insides. Now whenever I tell people about how I am a slayer of giants and a tormentor of hobgoblins, they will know it’s true.”

  “We already knew, Sig. No one could ever doubt.” Kate slid an arm around her shoulder and hugged her tight for a moment.

  “Careful now,” Dal said, walking up to them and sitting on Signe’s other side. “Or you’ll make me jealous.”

  Grinning, he reached up and removed the magestone in his ear. The left side of his face went blurry for a moment as the spell dissipated. Once it was clear, Kate saw the scars, a mountain ridge of divots running from his brow to his chin. He tossed the magestone into the stream without comment.

  Bonner joined them next, sitting beside Kate. He sat close, his shoulder pressing against hers. She leaned into him, drawing comfort by his nearness, his quiet acceptance.

  Soon others joined them, making a large circle around the fire. To Kate’s surprise, several of the wilders thanked her for what she’d done by puttin
g Edwin and the soldiers to sleep. She accepted the thanks with a single nod, her lips pressed together.

  Kate searched the gorge for Corwin, finally spying him across the way talking privately with Raith and Francis. In moments they stopped speaking and the three of them walked over to the fire. All eyes turned to them. It was as if the entire camp held its breath.

  Raith raised his hands in an unneeded call for silence. Then he cleared his throat and said, “Tomorrow we journey to Carden to join the wilder forces there. Before we left Norgard, I sent out missives to our contacts in each of the twelve cities. The time for the Rising to move is finally here.”

  Applause broke out at this, and Kate cut her eyes to Corwin, shocked that he would condone this course of action. His gaze was fixed on the ground before him, his arms crossed over his chest.

  “But the fight ahead isn’t one we ever planned,” Raith continued once the applause died down. “While the Inquisition and its supporters remain our enemy, the biggest threat is Seva. The Godking Magnar Fane, with the help of Rendborne—the Nameless One—has imprisoned our friends and loved ones. We must see them free. Prince Corwin has volunteered to lead the search party into Seva to find where the wilders are being kept. He will leave as soon as he is able.”

  Kate stared at him, wondering at his motivations. The Godking in possession of wilders was an undeniable threat, but Dal had told her everything that had happened while she was imprisoned in the Hellgate. Corwin knew about Kiran. He knows everything about me now.

  Corwin stepped up next to Raith. Then he ran his eyes over the crowd, meeting each face. Even Kate’s. His eyes lingered on her longer than the others, and when he moved on, she became aware of the ragged beat of her heart beneath her breastbone.

  “I swear on my title, on my blood, and on my honor that I will do whatever I can to free the wilders and to defeat the Nameless One. But even more than that, I swear that we will reclaim Rime as a land for both wilder and magist and everyone in between. All of us together are what make Rime great. When we are done, all will live in peace and live as they are without hiding or fear.”