by Serena Chase
CHAPTER FIFTY
Erielle stopped for just a moment to look toward her brother and an arrow narrowly missed her head. Scrambling to duck down, she quickly covered the rest of the distance.
“Are you sure, Rynnaia?” she asked, sheathing her sword.
“Yes,” I said. “You are Anya’s descendant, Erielle, the first female in your line since the Oracle herself. You are the Oracle’s daughter!”
I grabbed her hand and pressed the stone within it. As soon as it touched her palm, it flashed white and I closed her fingers around it.
“This is why you had to come, Erielle. Do it now!”
With a nod, she scaled the rest of the distance up the slope. She stepped up to the circle of stones and peered down into the well.
Erielle held the stone in her open hand. It glowed brighter, whiter, by the second. Her shoulders rose as she took a deep breath and . . . tipped her palm. The glowing orb rolled off her hand and into the well.
The pit for the pit, I thought, holding my breath.
Erielle screwed up her face, took a step back, and flinched as if she expected an explosion of some sort.
Nothing happened.
Although I’m sure the stone made some sort of sound as it hit the water, I couldn’t hear it above the sounds of the battle, now all around the foot of the shrine. Erielle looked down at me, lifted her hands, and shrugged her shoulders. Unsheathing her sword, she slid down the slope and landed beside me.
“I suspect the rest is up to you, Princess,” she said.
My mouth gaped open. “Erielle.”
“What?” She swung her sword to the right and cut an arrow from the air before glancing back at me. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Erielle, your eyes,” I said, blinking in disbelief. “They’re . . . they’re green.”
“What?”
“Your eyes aren’t blue anymore. They’re green. Like Julien’s.” A vision of the Oracle of Mynissbyr flooded my thoughts. “Like Lady Anya’s.”
“A trick of the light,” she said. But from somewhere deep within her thoughts, I sensed the tremble of a memory. And it smelled a lot like the sea, conjuring the face of a young man in her mind. A young man, a boy, really, who looked quite a bit like . . .
Cazien.
I shook my head. “It’s not a trick of the light.”
She blinked. “My eyes are . . . green?”
“Rynnaia, go!” Julien called. “Erielle! Fill the hole.”
Without another word, she rushed to rejoin the fray. I turned and began climbing up the path Erielle had just come down.
Edru’s voice shouted into my thoughts. Princess, down!
I ducked and an arrow embedded itself in the soil just above my head.
I continued the climb. Several arrows flew my direction. Thanks to Edru, none hit their mark. I was exceedingly glad to have another Andoven still in our company, otherwise I’d be dead. No one could be that unlucky at hitting their target.
Finally, I reached the crest of the shrine. If he could, Julien would be beside me shortly. If he could not, there would be no one with which to drink the toast from the well.
No one else would do. Regardless of how Cobeld twisted the prophecy to make me believe otherwise, Julien de Gladiel was the solid green gem, the emerald with which I had bonded. Our colors had sealed the bond of our betrothal. And Lady Anya had made it clear that the toast we drank would end the curse. But it would have to be spoken together. As one.
I kept my head down and looked at the bar hanging over the well. It held several cups as well as a rope which was used to raise and lower a bucket into the cursed, poisonous water. Water I would soon drink.
Growing up from the murky depths—and oh, was it deep!—a strange vine clung to the inside walls of the well with stringy leaves, and thorns so dark a green they were almost black. A yellowish flower-like growth protruded from various points along the vine, but my eyes were drawn back to the talon-like thorns.
I’d never thought a plant could seem so sinister, but this, Cobeld’s hybrid of ebonswarth, yellowhock—and was that some sort of freshwater kelp?—sent a chill through my blood.
The water might kill me—might kill Julien—but in order to remove the Cobeld curse from E’veria once and for all, we had no choice but drink it.
If he came in time.
I crawled to the edge and stole a glance at my friends.
Gerrias had fallen. He was still alive, still blinking and breathing, but it appeared paralysis had taken over. Kinley and Erielle formed a shield of sorts for him with their bodies while fighting off the Cobelds trying to make it onto the platform. Edru’s sword was raised and he used it, though not with the same skill of his companions. Instead he used his Andoven abilities to knock away the poisoned arrows being sent up to us by the Dwonsil warriors and the Cobelds. He was flagging, though.
I peered toward a line of archers, and drawing my hand through the air, swept their bows from their grasp. They would soon retrieve them, but at least it would give Edru a moment to regroup.
Julien’s sword arched a blur, every angle poetry, every strike a silent song. A dagger in his hand kept perfect time to the dance his sword performed. Not a moment was lost, nor a stroke wasted. His face shone with purpose, yet his expertise gave each turn a detached sort of grace that could only be achieved through years of training to an inborn call.
For every Cobeld knocked from the scaffolding, two more took its place, but while none were able to get beyond my fearsome knight, there was no opening, no moment in which he could turn to join me.
The coppery scent of blood tainted the air as much as the deafening sounds of battle. Horses, knights, and warriors roared furious battle cries. Ancient, shriveled men shrieked curses. Arrows flew, sword brushed against sword, shield, and with a dull, slicing hiss, flesh. And underlying every harsh cry was the echoed agonies of the dying.
I focused on the Cobeld nearest Julien. Fall. And he did, only to be replaced by another bearded face. And those beards were too close for Julien to be able to turn his back. If he did, even for a moment, the Cobelds would gain the platform. A brush of the beard, or a jab with a tainted dagger, and the fetid old men would easily overpower my friends, finish Gerrias, and head for me.
Father. My eyes found him the same instant my mind did. He was atop his horse, sword flying in precise and deadly strokes.
Yes, Rynnaia, I’m here.
Can you press harder so that Julien can break away from his position and join me at the well?
We’re doing all we can, Rynnaia. We will continue. The enemy is still strong.
It was going to be up to me.
No, not me.
“Please,” I whispered, furtively seeking guidance from The First. “Please show me how to honor my mother’s blessing and the gifts you’ve granted me.”
I thought of the rocks that had fallen on my command near Canyn Village and the stalactite spears at Halo’s Rim. Peace stole over me.
I focused just beyond the scaffolding to the front rows of battle. Whatever I did would affect not just the Cobelds, but the E’verians in my sight as well.
Be ready! With as few words as possible I communicated my plan to my friends. I waited until each of them nodded their understanding and then sought the King.
Do you trust me, Father? I asked.
Of course!
I took a deep breath. Then call a retreat . . . now!
A moment later the bugler sounded the retreat. Kinley, Erielle, and Edru spread apart, filling the gap as Julien stepped back, turned, and sprinted up toward where I stood at the well. Gerrias was left vulnerable, but I could only hope his motionlessness would make the Cobelds think he was already dead.
An arrow narrowly missed Julien’s shoulder. Anger turned me to the archers again and I swept my hand through the air and spoke directly to the bowstrings, “Break!”
The E’verian Army’s retreat gave the Dwonsil warriors an advantage and they presse
d my father’s forces back, just as I had hoped, moving them farther away. I supposed it was too much to hope that my distraction would send the Cobelds after the army, too. It did the opposite. The Dwonsil warriors were moving away from the well, but the Cobelds were focused entirely on me. And why wouldn’t they be? With the Ryn Naia atop their cursed shrine, what mattered of an army? I was the prize they sought. Or my death, rather. And they were plenty motivated to achieve it.
Without bowstrings or the Dwonsil warriors’ aid, however, the only weapon that remained at the ready for the Cobelds was their beards.
I focused the power of my mind on the Cobelds and as many rows of Dwonsil warriors as I could stretch it to take in, which wasn’t as much as I would have liked, but considering the width of the enemy’s forces, I didn’t want to press my luck.
Now! I sent the order to my loyal companions. Kinley, Edru, and Erielle closed in around Gerrias, as far away from the edge of the platform as they could get.
Julien had just gained the top. He immediately flattened himself on the dirt.
I severed the mental tie to my friends, closed my eyes, and pressed my focus just a little bit wider than I’d been able to with my mind doubly engaged.
With a great shove, as if all the winds of E’veria had gathered to await my command, I pressed my arms forward, palms out, and shouted.
“FALL!”
I opened my eyes. The force of my command sent no less than ten ranks of Cobelds and Dwonsil warriors hurtling toward the tree line. Some were picked up and tossed into others. The sound was tremendous as armor smashed into armor.
Above the din, another bugle call sounded. I recognized it this time: Advance. The King and his army rushed forward and took the advantage.
Julien jumped to his feet. A grin stretched his triangular beard wide across his face.
“And you thought you needed a sword?” He laughed, but sobered quickly. “Are you ready?”
I nodded. “‘One Name of Power in purest form removes the stain of Cobeld’s thorn.’”
Julien met my eyes and nodded before turning his gaze to the well. “And the name we are to use?”
His thoughts concurred with mine. I nodded.
Julien pulled the rope to draw the bucket up from the well. I peeked down at our friends.
“Julien, hurry.”
The enemies were rising, but not as fast as the E’verian forces were taking them down again. Erielle, Kinley, and Edru climbed down the scaffolding and stood in a circle at the foot of the well shrine, their backs to us and their swords drawn and ready. Gerrias alone remained on the scaffolding. My thoughts found him unconscious, but still alive.
“I’ve got it,” Julien said.
I peered into the bucket. I expected it to be dark and murky, like the vine and the black thorns that fed its poison, but it wasn’t. “It looks like regular water.”
“But we know better.” He removed two cups from the rack, dipped them into the bucket, and handed one to me.
“It’s to be a toast, then,” he said. I nodded. He lifted his hand, as did I. We interlocked our arms as if performing our wedding toast, and with the cup at our lips, we looked into each other’s eyes.
“I love you,” we said at the same time.
We tipped the cups. Higher and higher, we drank the cursed Cobeld water until the cups were drained. And then, joining hands, we raised them as high as we could, and tilted our faces to the sky.
With all the purity of a knight’s honor and the honest plea of a Ryn’s request, we shouted the name by which the depth of love could only be fully known by having experienced the suffering that preceded its comfort. The name that would break the curse of envy and hate that had been born within Cobeld and then spread like the disease that it was to his followers. The Name of Unlimited Power and Unquenchable Love.
“EMBRAL E’ VERIA!”
The volume of our cry soared across the legion of enemies below as the love of Rynloeft rang over and through us. But if the sound of their shrieks was any indication, their agony was acute—much worse than anything I had experienced due to their curse.
A searing heat lit at my chest. My hand flew to the pendant. I pulled the chain up and out from under my shirt, lest it burn my skin. At once, the pendant glowed brighter . . . whiter. Another gleam caught my eye.
“Julien, your sword!”
Like my pendant, where the Emblem of The First was engraved upon Julien’s sword, it sent forth a pure, white light.
“Look, Rynnaia! It’s spreading!”
On the battlefield below, every sword, every shield, and each vestment that bore the Emblem of The First shot rays of white light out and up. Even the dark red stains of war could not quench the power of the display.
Those bearing the glowing implements seemed to garner strength from the light. Our army pressed, slashed. With their purpose renewed, there was no stopping them.
Smoke snaked up from the Cobelds’ faces as their beards dissolved into nothing. The shrunken, withered old men writhed in agony as their curses rebounded and time reached out to grasp and retrieve their ancient breath.
A rumbling vibration moved our feet. “Uhh . . . Julien?” I grabbed his arm as the bucket, which had been balanced on the edge of the well, toppled into the water below.
“We’d better get down from here. And quickly.” Julien took my hand and we mimicked Erielle’s earlier grace, sliding down the side of the shrine as if it were made of greased glass.
The rumble increased and was soon accompanied by a hissing sound. A moment later there was a resounding crack! and an orange-red flame leapt from the depth of the well.
“The pit?” Julien asked.
“It must have been.”
The heat was intense. We needed to get as far away from the well as possible. As soon as we reached the scaffolding platform, Julien rushed to his brother’s side.
“Gerrias!”
“He needs the Remedy!” I said. “But it’s with the horses!”
Julien gave a nod, scooted to the other side of the platform, and with two fingers in between his lips, let out a long, shrill whistle.
“They’re coming,” he said. “We’ve got to get him down from here.”
“I cans sfeelf my fingeths.” Gerrias’s words slurred together.
“Good.” I nodded. “Then the poison hasn’t made it all the way through you yet.”
“No. Get. Ting. Better. Couldn’t sfeelf them a muhment go.” He paused. “Feel them now. Couldn’t talk. Now . . . I . . . can.”
Julien raised his eyes to me. “Do you think . . . ?”
I reached into my mind to gather the right lines from the scrolls. “‘The stone will nullify the Cobeld curse and purge the poison from its work.’”
I gasped. “It’s retroactive? So all who’ve not yet died from the poison will . . . recover?”
“It would appear so,” Gerrias said, his words no longer slurred. “Look at my wound.” He grinned. “I’d wager it’s not even there.”
Julien ripped open his brother’s sleeve where the dagger had entered.
He shook his head and blinked. “There’s a scar and a bit of redness, almost as if it had been cauterized, but the wound is closed.”
“That would explain the burning of a few moments ago,” Gerrias said.
“Wait.” Julien’s eyes were still focused on his brother’s arm. “The bites are gone.” He looked up. “It was this arm the wolfcat bit, wasn’t it?”
“It was.”
I leaned over and peered at Gerrias’s arm. It was as if the beast had never set its teeth to his skin. “Even the new scar is fading!” A moment later, his arm was entirely unblemished.
“Julien.” My hand trembled as I brought it to my lips. “My mother.”
Julien’s eyes widened. “Do you think she’s—”
Just then, the scaffolding shuddered. Gerrias’s knee suddenly rose, knocking me off balance. I sprawled across his lap.
“Sorry, Princess. I g
uess my leg’s working.”
Julien laughed. “Working implies you can control it,” he said drily.
The earthen mound shook again. A low, disturbing growl came from within it.
“Whether you can control it or not,” Julien said, “you are coming with us. Now.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
The platform shook as Edru and Kinley climbed up it. With Erielle guarding below, I watched to make sure nothing came at her that I couldn’t stop. But the Cobelds who weren’t already dead were dying. And the Dwonsil warriors who hadn’t been captured had fled.
Much of Gerrias’s strength had returned, and with the help of the three other men, he was soon on the ground.
But the ground near the base of the shrine was no place to be.
Gerrias gained his feet and pulled a stringy white object from his sleeve. “Well, would you look at that!” he said. “It’s a hair from a Cobeld’s beard.”
My stomach dropped as my hand flew to my mouth.
He grinned. “It’s just a hair, Princess. No curse left in it.”
“But there were only two of you up there,” Kinley said. “Three if you count Erielle dropping the stone. Wasn’t there supposed to be a council of four?”
Julien looked at me. “Lady Anya,” we said together.
Kinley gaped. “The dead Oracle herself? She was there?”
“In her way,” I replied. “The First isn’t limited by the same constraints as we are. Somehow, for just a moment, he brought her into our time and us into hers.”
Another deep rumble sent Gerrias’s still-weak knees to the ground. Edru and Kinley each took one of his arms and draped them about their necks.
Hot breath brushed the top of my head and I swiveled around to find Julien’s horse. The others were right behind him.
“I’ll take Rynnaia on Salvador.” Julien tossed me up into the saddle. “Erielle, follow. Kinley, Edru, get Gerrias onto Stanza and make for the King. Go!”
The rumble built as we fled from the shrine and the ground was bathed in the reddish glow of the pit’s fire as it reached its flames toward the clouds.
The army had pulled back to the tree line when the rumbles began. Salvador slowed as we reached them.