He ran across the hall toward the door. Two Infantry started toward him and he threw a fireball at one of them, waved his sword at the other, then careened through the door itself.
The courtyard was full—Bear Riders, Horse Riders, Hawk Riders swooping down at him. A full Infantry unit were coming from the barracks. More Foot Soldiers at the gate.
Helpmehelpmehelpmehelpme! he sent to Coulter, but he got nothing in return.
Matt had to drop the sword and he was unwilling to. But they were coming closer, and some of them had spells. He thought he saw a dark shape moving across the ground—a Dream Rider. If it covered his face, he would not be able to think, not be able to do anything at all.
He dropped the sword and raised his arms. Foot Soldiers ran toward him. He could hear the growling of Bear Riders.
“Lightning,” he whispered in Islander.
Thunder boomed overhead. Storm clouds formed and the sky grew dark. A Foot Soldier grabbed him by the waist and yanked him forward, but Matt kept his arms up.
The air was charged. His hair rose on the back of his neck.
Lightning rippled across the sky. Everyone looked up except the Foot Soldier who had Matt. Matt couldn’t shake him off. He couldn’t do another spell, and to have this Soldier touching him when the lightning hit might hurt him as well.
Matt leaned toward the sword.
The lightning moved slower than real lightning, creeping down the sky. Everything was green.
Matt reached the sword as the Foot Soldier stripped skin from Matt’s right side. He was bleeding. He could feel the sticky wetness inside his shirt.
The green light made the Fey look gray and sickly.
Matt picked up the sword as the lightning forked, and slashed the Foot Soldier, cutting off both arms. The Soldier screamed and fell back, and Matt dropped the sword. He clutched his side and started to run.
The lightning was striking in sections. The air filled with screams and the acrid stench of burned flesh. Matt jumped over bodies as he ran toward the gate.
He wasn’t sure he was going to make it. The lightning wouldn’t hurt him—he was the originator of the spell—but he was losing so much blood. He’d lost track of all the places he’d been hurt.
There was another boom of thunder and the lightning started again. He remembered, suddenly, what Coulter had told him. The lightning would continue until the opponents were dead or until he made it stop.
Matt staggered out of the gate onto the cobblestone street. Islanders were crouched under building overhangs and beneath signs. Many were inside. Some were clutching children.
He hadn’t been specific in his spell. Some of them might die. He glanced over his shoulder. No Fey were following him.
He raised his arms, the pain intense, the pull against his damaged skin so harsh that he nearly blacked out.
“Lightning,” he whispered in Islander, “Stop.”
The electricity instantly left the air. The clouds parted, the sun returned, and he let his arms drop.
He staggered forward, not sure where he was going to go, what he was going to do. His legs buckled beneath him, and he collapsed on the cobblestone. He was cold. He’d heard that was what happened to people who lost a lot of blood.
He hoped Coulter had heard him. He hoped they would figure out a way to stop Rugad. But he wasn’t sure they would.
THIRTY-FIVE
THE SKY TURNED BLACK and thunder echoed all over Jahn. Coulter, running along the wide cobblestone street toward the palace, stopped and looked up.
Lightning. Slow lightning, rippling across the sky before it attacked. This was a spell he had made up. There was no counterpart for it in a Fey Enchanter’s magick. There was nothing else that replicated it, not even Weather Sprite magick. He had taught Matt to use this spell only when nothing else could be done.
Gift stopped and looked at the sky. “This looks familiar.”
He had been with Coulter the only time Coulter had used the spell.
“I told him it was for emergencies.”
“Does the boy listen?” Gift asked.
“Yes.”
“Then we’d better hurry.”
Dash and Con caught up with them, breathing hard. “What are we looking at?” Con asked.
“Magick.” Coulter looked behind them. The Foot Soldiers Gift had ordered were running across the bridge. The sky was filled with Gull Riders.
Coulter felt cold and it had nothing to do with the change in the weather. “All the Fey need to leave. Get them down, and get them hidden.”
“Why?” Gift asked.
“Because I don’t know how specific Matt’s spell was. This magick may attack all Fey.”
“Then we have to get you safe,” Con said to Gift.
“I’m half Islander,” he snapped. “I’ll be all right.”
“Con’s right,” Coulter said.
“There’s nowhere for me to go except forward,” Gift said. “Tell those Gull Riders to get out of the sky. Have the Foot Soldiers find cover. Tell them to come out when the lightning goes away.”
“I’m not going to leave you—” Con started.
“Go!”
Coulter wasn’t used to this decisiveness from Gift. But he appreciated it.
The air had an electric feel to it. The hair rose on the back of Coulter’s neck. Everything had a greenish glow. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe Matt, in his panic, had cast the spell to include everyone but him.
Coulter raised his arms, and created an invisible barrier above himself and Gift.
Lightning rained down around them, forking and splitting and exploding behind the palace walls. Flames rose and so did smoke. In the distance Coulter could hear screams.
He knew what the smell would be. He remembered how awful the destruction was. What a horrible spell he created. And then he had taught it to Matt.
Matt? Matty? Are you all right?
There was no answer through the Link. He cursed the woman whom Gift had gotten to help him.
Gift tapped his arm and they started forward again. They were running side by side now, Dash following like a puppy. The sky was getting darker.
Coulter didn’t like the look of this.
Thunder sounded one more time, and the lightning forked. In the strange greenish light, he could see Islanders huddling against buildings, stretched flat against the ground. Some of them were staring at Gift with open hatred, as if this were his fault.
And then the lightning stopped. The greenish color left, and the air lost its charge.
“Ahead!” Gift shouted.
A blood-covered boy staggered out of the palace gate and fell to his knees. Fires burned behind him, and smoke rose from the North Tower.
Matt had done a lot of damage.
Coulter sprinted ahead of Gift. Matt sprawled on the cobblestone. His entire right side was stripped bare of skin. He had no skin on his left forearm and he was bleeding from a dozen places. His face was so pale that it looked ghostly. If it weren’t for the rise and fall of his chest, Coulter would have thought Matt dead.
Coulter chanted a spell to place a protection over the wounds, and then another to stop the blood from leaking out. Then he eased Matt into a sitting position and cradled him, putting his hand over Matt’s heart.
Matt’s skin was cold, but his eyelids flickered. He was alive, but barely.
Coulter would have to give him some of his own strength. He closed his eyes, and willed the strength to travel from his own body, through his hand, and into Matt’s.
“What the—?”
Coulter opened his eyes. Gift was crouching beside him, looking shocked.
“Is this Matthias?” Gift asked.
Coulter could have answered honestly and scared Gift even more, but he didn’t. He no longer had the strength for it.
“Dash,” Coulter said, his voice a harsh rasp. “Is anyone coming out of the palace?”
“Not yet,” Dash said. He was breathing hard.
“Coulter,”
Gift said. “Is this Matthias?”
“It’s his son,” Coulter said, his voice breaking. “He’s a good boy, Gift. He’s not like his father.”
Gift crouched and put a hand on Matt’s forehead. “We have to get him help.”
“I’m trying,” Coulter said.
“You try too much and you’ll kill yourself.” Gift slipped his arms under Matt’s body. “I have Healers on the ship. They can do something.”
He hoisted Matt up. Coulter kept his hand on Matt’s heart. They started back toward the ship, not running, but hurrying as best they could. Dash guarded their back. Above them, a phalanx of Gull Riders appeared, apparently deciding to venture out now that the sky was clear.
Islanders emerged from their hiding places, watching the procession go by. How strange it must look to them: the Black Heir and three Islanders, one seriously injured, hurrying down Jahn’s busiest thoroughfare.
Then Gift stopped and raised his head. He turned toward the palace. “Look,” he whispered.
Coulter turned. Smoke still rose from the North Tower. But from windows in South Tower, he saw a movement. For a moment, he thought it was Arianna, but the fear that coursed through him told him it was not.
“He’s watching us,” Coulter said. “I told you not to come.”
“He knew I’d be involved,” Gift said. “He’s been planning for this.”
Then he started forward again, loping, cradling Matt’s head as they ran. Coulter could barely keep up with them. The skin on his back crawled as if he could actually feel Rugad’s gaze.
And Matt’s skin grew colder each step of the way.
THIRTY-SIX
THE DIZZINESS WAS GONE, but he didn’t feel quite like himself. He felt frail, and his body echoed with pain.
“He’s waking up,” a woman said in Fey.
Matt opened his eyes or tried to. His vision was bleary and his lashes stuck together. He raised his right arm to wipe the sleep from his eyes, and nearly yelped in agony.
A cool hand touched his shoulder. “It’s easier if you stay still.”
That was Coulter’s voice. Matt blinked several times and managed to open his eyes properly. A Fey woman he didn’t recognize took a cloth and wiped his face, cleaning his eyes for him.
“Thank you,” he said, but it came out as a whisper.
He was in a bed, blankets tucked around him. The room was small. It was filled with people: Coulter, Dash, Con, Arianna, and a blue-eyed Fey man he’d never seen before. The Fey woman was older and unfamiliar, but she had a softness to her that Matt had seen in Coulter’s Domestics.
“Where am I?” he whispered.
“On my ship.” The unknown man spoke. He looked familiar. “My name is Gift. I understand you’re Matthias’s son.”
Gift. Arianna’s brother. He looked like her, only his skin was a light brown instead of gray and his eyes the color of a clear sky.
“You didn’t like my father,” Matt whispered.
“I don’t know many people who did,” he said.
“Gift.” Arianna had caution in her voice.
He ignored her. “But your father helped mine save us from Rugad once upon a time. We owe him a lot for that.”
“It didn’t work,” Matt whispered.
“It worked for a while.” Gift had a warm, reassuring voice. His eyes were warm too. “I understand you fought Rugad alone today.”
“I wasn’t alone.” Matt glanced at Coulter. He wondered how angry Coulter was. “Wisdom was there.”
“I know,” Coulter said. “We found out he was following you. I didn’t think he would do any harm.”
“Did he?” Arianna asked. She had never liked Wisdom.
“He’s dead.” Matt closed his eyes. He could see Wisdom arching his back, mouth gushing blood.
Coulter’s cool hand moved from his shoulder to his forehead. “What happened?”
“He may not be able to tell you yet,” the Fey woman said. “You should let him rest.”
“We may not have time for rest,” Gift said. Funny how Matt could already recognize his voice. “Rugad knows he’s here. And he probably knows where he’s from. So we need to know the next step.”
Matt willed himself to open his eyes. It took more effort than it normally did.
Everyone was still looking at him. Arianna’s eyes held concern. Gift had a crease in the middle of his forehead. Coulter looked the most worried. He hadn’t moved from Matt’s side.
Matt tried to move up so that he was sitting, but the pain shuddered through him again. His left arm felt heavy.
“Don’t move,” the Fey woman said. “You’re covered with healing stone.”
He looked down at himself. A solid gray material had been painted over him where the Foot Soldier had touched him. His arm was hidden by the same material.
“You nearly died,” Coulter said. “Chandra saved you.”
“I repaired you,” the Fey woman who was apparently Chandra said. “Gift and Coulter saved you.”
“Just Coulter actually,” Gift said. “When I caught up to him, he’d already found you. He was keeping you alive by letting you share the beat of his own heart.”
Matt looked up at him. Coulter’s cheeks were flushed. Coulter had taught him that too—another emergency spell. It only worked if there was affection between the people involved.
Matt felt his heart surge—no one had really ever cared for him, not even his own family—and then it sank. “I failed.”
“You damaged the palace,” Gift said. “I wouldn’t consider that a failure.”
“Wisdom’s dead, and all those Fey—” Matt’s voice broke.
“You did what you had to do.” Arianna put a hand on Coulter’s shoulder, as if she were speaking to him as well as Matt. Her skin was the same color as the stone wrapped around Matt.
“Tell us what happened,” Gift said again.
So Matt did. He told them about the first attempt and how Rugad had said that he could come back in a year. Then he told them how Wisdom had saved him from the Spies and taken him to the tunnels under the city.
After that, Matt found himself short of breath. Chandra gave him some water and something else, something that tasted good and made him feel refreshed.
“I don’t think he should talk anymore,” she said.
“I want to,” he whispered.
Coulter brushed the hair off his forehead. “You don’t have to tell us in such detail.”
“I want to,” Matt repeated and then, before anyone could object, he continued.
He told them about restoring Wisdom’s tongue and how Wisdom refused to talk and why. Then he told them Wisdom’s plan, and how they went through the listening booths.
“You had the Soul Repositories from the Place of Power?” Gift asked.
“Yes,” Matt said, and then he told them how Wisdom approached Rugad, and how wrong everything went from there. Tears streamed down his face as he talked about the fires and getting trapped and using the varin sword.
“I heard your voice,” he said to Coulter. “You saved me.”
“I did nothing like that. You saved yourself.”
Chandra took Matt’s good hand in her own. “Now can we let the boy rest?”
“I have just a few questions.” Gift sat on the edge of the bed, on the wooden frame so that he didn’t disturb the mattress. “Is that all right, Matt?”
“I don’t know how I can help you. I failed so badly.”
“Actually, you tried and the method didn’t work. That’s not a personal failure.” Gift wasn’t saying that to make him feel better.
“You came after me,” Matt said. “Why?”
Coulter started to answer, but Gift held up his hand. He seemed to know the question was for him.
“You were Linked to Coulter. You needed help, and you were at the palace, trying to do something for Arianna. That’s why.”
So even though Gift hated Matt’s father, Gift could help Matt. Matt’s father wouldn’t have
done that.
Gift said, “Tell me why the Repository wouldn’t work.”
“I thought he was a loose soul,” Matt said. “From everything I heard, he’d invaded Arianna.”
“He did,” Arianna said.
“He said he was born in that body, like he grew up there.”
“I should have known that,” Coulter said.
“He said the body was his.”
Gift frowned. “But the body is Arianna’s.”
“He’s right, though,” Arianna said. “He did grow up in there. The baby, remember.”
“And the person who invaded Arianna,” Coulter said, “is the man who died fifteen years ago, not the child with all the memories that she carried in her mind.”
“But that child is magick, right?” Gift was looking at Chandra.
“I don’t know what else you would call it,” Chandra said. “but I am no expert on these things. You need Xihu.”
“Xihu is with Rugad.” Gift sounded annoyed.
Matt was trying to focus on this, but he was beginning to get tired. He willed himself to stay awake.
“Is the magick part of her brain?” Gift said.
“I was in that part of Ari’s brain,” Coulter said. “He had an actual room in her mind.”
“And he was threaded through everything,” Arianna said, “like he belonged there.”
“That’s why the Repository didn’t work,” Gift said. “You had the wrong tool.”
“There’s another one we can use?” Coulter asked.
Arianna’s eyes lit up. Matt had never seen her look so alive. “Of course there is. Oh, Gift, I wish I had seen that sooner.”
“Would someone tell me?” Coulter asked.
Matt eased out a small breath. He saw the section of the Words as if it were written before him. He understood too. “The Lights of Midday.”
Gift grinned at him. “That’s right.”
“Those globes?” Coulter asked.
“Yes. Remember when Dad and Adrian picked them up in the Roca’s Cave and Ari and I screamed?”
“That was why we had to hide you away from everything during the battles, because you were afraid that light would...burn away your magick.” Coulter said those last four words very slowly, as if he suddenly understood as well.
The Black King (Book 7) Page 34