by Edun, Terah
All of this. All of the death. All of the misery.
“It has to end,” she said.
“Don’t worry,” he crooned as he reached down to caress her dirty face. “You’ll be seeing your maker soon.”
“Ciardis,” shouted Vana from her battle across the field. “Remember your lessons. What you can stabilize, you can destabilize.”
The Shadow Mage turned to Vana with a roar and had a shadow creature lift her up in a dark tunnel of wind and throw her with enough force that she landed with a sickening crunch on the other side of the field.
But it was enough. Ciardis knew what she had to do. The Shadow Mage was close enough for her to do what needed to be done.
She reached for Shadow Mage’s hand with a pain-filled gasp. Latching on she let loose every drop of power she had in her. She built and built on his power, enhancing beyond his capacity to contain, especially with the male Weathervane’s gifts also increasing his.
Satisfied, she pulled and pulled the power to greater heights, unimaginable abilities. And the shadows began to grow, filling the skies with darkness and casting the entire area in black. When she’d reached the pinnacle and could go no further, she smiled and dropped the power. It swept down with an almighty speed, creating a vortex in its wake. The power was falling at a tremendous speed and pulling its creations with it. It became a vortex of shadows, sucking in all of the power of the Shadow Mage in an ever increasing fury.
Unfortunately the Shadow Mage couldn’t absorb all of the shadows at once. They began to push themselves into his mage core, greedy for more power, and when that wasn’t enough they penetrated his living body. Ciardis watched in satisfaction as he staggered while shadow after shadow penetrated his back, his neck, his eyes, his hands, his chest, and his head. Each time causing the Shadow Mage to stagger under the impact even more.
“Ciardis, what have you done?” Meres asked with shock written on his face as he scrambled to her side, the Prince Heir limping behind him.
She turned to look at him as she said, “Finished him.”
At that moment the Shadow Mage fell to his knees and threw back his head, letting out an almighty scream. For a second the shadows began to emerge from his throat and out of his mouth, and then they couldn’t. They were stuck, and the bottleneck only grew with the shadows bulging grotesquely in his throat and cheeks. Until they couldn’t expand anymore. He exploded, sending body parts in fragments and shadows screaming everywhere. And everyone within a ten-mile radius was thrown off their feet with the tremendous force of the explosion.
Darkness fell over Ciardis’s eyes as she briefly lost consciousness. She lay on her back, watching the skies slowly lighten and the shadows dissipate in the air with a smile on her face.
Chapter 35
Moments later Ciardis heard someone walking toward her. For the first time in her life her magic was finished. Zero. She didn’t have any of it left to fight with. She staggered to her feet for one last battle. Vana, Meres, and Sebastian had been thrown away from her side. She waited and listened for the person approaching.
Out of the dense ground-fog of thick smoke and mist, the Weather Mage emerged. Blood was dripping down his clothes from a heavy shoulder wound and his arm hung limply at his side. But he had a smile on his face that belied the pain he must have been in.
Clothes in tatters, he stopped in front of Ciardis and said with a relief borne of freedom
from enslavement, “He’s dead. I’m free.”
Tears were dripping down his face and hers, as well. Smiling in exhaustion at their victory, she felt his joy even in the midst of the destruction and dead bodies they walked around. And then Ciardis saw her—Maree Amber.
The leader of the Companions’ Guild and Council was lying at the slope of a small hill. Rushing to her side, Ciardis knelt over her, the woman who Ciardis had thought hated her, but had come at a time when Ciardis had needed her most. Hands trembling, she put her fingers at the woman’s throat and felt for a pulse. It was there but weak. A gasping breath issued from Amber’s throat and she began coughing. The woman’s eyes flew open and she tried to sit up.
“Stop,” commanded Ciardis. “You’re injured.” Turning quickly to the Weather Mage, she shouted, “Go get help.”
“Help me sit up,” said Maree Amber after another wheezing breath.
Ciardis shook her head. “You look pretty bad.” She was eyeing Maree Amber’s leg that was distinctly facing the wrong direction; it looked as if it had been twisted inward, and now her kneecap and left foot were facing her other leg. Not to mention the large slab of rock across her chest. Gripping it, Ciardis pushed it off. She couldn’t see any ribs sticking out, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t any internal damage.
Madame Amber coughed again, this time blood trickling out of the side of her mouth. Ciardis pursed her lips and fought not to cry. If help didn’t get here soon, the woman was going to die. She might die even if they did get here soon.
Seeing her watery eyes, Madame Amber gave a sharp laugh that ended in a groan of pain.
“Silly girl,” she said while gasping for breath, “I told you, you can’t cry over every little thing. You have...to...toughen up.”
The last words came with distinct pauses, not meant to emphasize but rather because Maree Amber was fighting for every last breath.
Ciardis smiled. Even in severe pain the woman was still chiding her.
Reaching out an unsteady hand, Maree gripped Ciardis’s hand in her own. “I was wrong. You are insubordinate, headstrong, and silly. And perhaps just the thing the courts need. You must continue to change, girl. Grow strong.”
Ciardis nodded, eyes wide.
Another blood-filled cough erupted. “Don’t trust the dragon, no matter what she says. And Stephanie and Christian—they can help you. They and all the others on the Shadow Council will help you. You just have to find them.”
Ciardis sucked in a surprised breath. “The Shadow Council?”
“You know about them?”
“I am them. Or at least I am in Sandrin. There are more—many more. Scattered across the empire.”
Before Ciardis could ask anything more, Maree Amber arched her back in an attempt at one final breath and died before Ciardis’s eyes.
Silently, Ciardis pushed Maree Amber’s eyelids closed as a sign of respect and stood up and looked around. Most people were wandering around and checking on compatriots. Several of the Prince Heir’s guard were still alive and had reunited with their charge. He now stood in a sort of moving box of the soldiers, each bristling with weapons.
The threat was over, but they still prepared themselves. She couldn’t blame them; that Shadowwalker had a nasty way of turning up in unexpected places. Walking over to the remains of the man who had enslaved her brother and countless others in addition to killing innocent victims, she felt no pity. As she prepared to walk away, she saw something gleaming as it stood upright in dirt. It was a long silver bar with curious inscriptions on it. She pulled it out of the ground. Ciardis barely heard Meres Kinsight shouting at her to put it down before she vanished in the blink of the eye.
Where she had stood, the metal bar clanged to the ground, its sound resonating in the empty field as those left behind looked on in disbelief.
For long moments Ciardis was falling in a void of silence and darkness. And then she felt herself land. The darkness cleared and light and sound filled the void.
Shifting voices echoed in and out of her ears as her eyes tried to adjust to the blinding landscape she’d transported to. As bright sunlight caught her eyes, she threw up her hands in protection and squinted in the harsh sun. The voices grew louder and odd smells penetrated her confused senses. Woodfire and smoke, unwashed bodies and blood.
What was going on?
Her dress was torn to shreds, her hair tangled with roots, her hands were black with dirt, and scratches ran all along her arms. She took tentative steps forward trying to figure out where she was. She was shocked when h
er bare feet stumbled onto the cold ground hardened by frost, and her breath froze in the air.
Her hair whipped loose around her as she looked around with unease.
Surrounding her in a semi-circle were armed men. They stared at her with shock etched on their faces. Their hands stayed ready at their waists, gripping the pommels of swords. The six men were silently eyeing her up and down, the disheveled girl who had somehow appeared in their midst.
Ciardis tried to speak but her voice broke.
Speaking in a hoarse croak she said, “Where? Where am I?”
The men surrounding her suddenly parted ranks and out of their midst General Banaren appeared. By his side strode Leonidas, General of the Imperial Army.
“Well, by the gods,” General Banaren said, astonished. “Ciardis Weathervane, what are you doing here?”
Staring at him with bleary eyes, she asked, “Where is here?”
Grimacing, he whipped off his heavy overcloak and loudly called for fresh water to be brought.
“The frontlines of the war in the North.”
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