“Elves always think they’re so clever, that they’re above everyone, even monsters like me. But let me tell you this, little girl,” the Phooka’s voice dimmed to a rattling whisper. “Your kind are the worst monsters of all.” His hand ripped the blindfold from his brow, revealing eyes of pure darkness rimmed with Hellfire. The blaze burned bright around the darkness, creeping across the Phooka’s flesh. “You’ve run out of places to hide. He’s coming for you, girl!” The fire burned deep within his skull and sparked into his chest. He howled, sending Astrid crashing to her knees. “HE IS COMING!”
***
Luthen roared from his restless meditation, bolting from his perch at the open window. Pain seared into his skull while images of a young girl burned in his mind. The howls twisted into laughter when he finally recognized her frightened face.
Anya sat upright and rigid. Her face was blank as fresh snow, almost as if being shaken from her unconscious state was a common occurrence. How he loved her predictability.
“Oh, silly lamb,” he said, speaking to the wide-eyed face in his head. “This is only the beginning of your nightmares.”
Luthen shook her face from his head. Her presence still lingered, bringing a smile to his lips. “Anya, my darling, we have work to do,” he said, running his hands through his thick raven hair. She nodded and slipped from the bed, her footsteps a hush of silk from her flowing nightgown. “I’m afraid we have one last stop to make in Lythia.”
***
A gnarled, old woman crouched on her hands and knees, scrubbing the white stone until it gleamed like moonlight. She caught a glimmer of her reflection and shrunk away. Her heart faltered at the sight of the stranger’s face she bore. The young girl Amaeya once knew was long dead and in her place was a tattered old crone.
“Hurry, my love. We haven’t a moment to lose!” Luthen’s footsteps crashed through her nighttime labors. She managed to yank the bucket from his path with seconds to spare.
“I do wish you would tell me why you’ve dragged me out of bed,” said Anya as she drifted through the empty hall. She picked her way around Amaeya, careful to keep her gown free of the damp stone.
“Now darling, it wouldn’t be much of a surprise if I told you all my secrets.” Luthen’s voice floated through the hall behind him, chilling Amaeya’s blood. The smaller she made herself the better.
“At least give me a hint,” said Amaeya as they turned off the main hall.
Luthen stopped her at the corner of the halls and swept her into his arms. “Let’s just say,” he said, his eyes searching the darkness of the corridor, “that I have found a missing piece of you.” His black eyes locked onto Amaeya’s. Her heart fumbled its beating as her breath was swept from her lungs. She had cowered from that gaze since their first encounter all those years ago. Luthen had tortured her for weeks, asking the same questions over and over—where is she? Where is the girl? The process had left Amaeya a withered husk, serving no more purpose than to polish the white stone beneath his feet.
His mouth moved in silent words only meant for her.
I KNOW YOUR SECRET.
***
“FOOLISH GIRL!” Quibell’s voice screeched from far above, ripping Astrid from her frozen terror. She fumbled up the silvery ladder, right into the wiry blue arms of an angry goblin. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? That beast reeked of foul magic!”
Astrid shoved the goblin away. “But Fryx said—”
“Fryx promises many things, much that are not his to promise!” Quibell spat at the open prison door in disgust. “That scoundrel was found wandering outside the villa. He put down three good goblins before he was subdued.” He stopped suddenly, his face wincing as he sniffed the air. “That same taint seems to have followed you out,” he said, sniffing at her. Astrid slapped his face away, having had enough.
“I don’t know what the hell that was down there, but it’s dead,” said Astrid through clenched teeth. “I believe my business is done here.”
“I’m not leaving Luka here,” said Ethen, his voice an uneasy calm.
Astrid shot him a pained look. He hid his eyes from her, his face dark and unreadable.
She nodded, trying hard to keep her face blank. In all their years, they had never had such bitterness between them. Perhaps space is what we need.
Astrid pushed past the sour-faced goblin and ran for the door. She kept running until she found herself swept up in the swarming market of Limra. Here, a person could disappear faster than if they wandered out into the bleakest part of the desert.
She meandered past the bellowing merchants and flowing crowds until she reached the highest part of the city. Here, you could see far out across the desert on one side and far across the sea on the other. Astrid smirked at how ironically similar to the two were, both just as unforgiving and bleak as the other yet still strangely beautiful.
The sun had started to set, casting the sea into a pit of sunlit fire. The people of Limra—the elven merchants, the sun-kissed sea dwarves, the pinched faced High Goblins, the barefoot and bleak-faced humans—all paused a moment to soak in the surrounding sight.
Astrid sat perched on a crumbling wall, positioning herself to see both sides of the city. It was the first moment she had a lone since what happened in the canyon. Her hand instinctively reached for her ribs, leaving her cringing at her invisible wounds. How close had I really been to death? The fear circling that thought left her paralyzed. She could feel her own mortality creeping out from the darkest parts of her mind.
A small tug at her sleeve snapped her back to the present. “ ‘Cuse me, miss,” said a small voice. Astrid looked down at the small child at her arm. It was the same girl from the Pit.
Astrid opened her mouth to speak but could not find the words. The young girl’s face was spotted with bruises, but she was very much alive. An older boy stood behind her. Both were dirty from the streets and clothed in rags.
“I din’t mean to bother you, miss, but my sister, well… you saved her, and I din’t have nothin’ to pay you back ‘cept maybe this and I—” the boy stopped short and nudged the girl toward Astrid. A little hand held up a delicate purple blossom. “This is for you.”
The small girl edged closer, offering the flower. Astrid, speechless, let the child place it in her open hand.
Flowers were a rare commodity in Limra. There was no telling what the children had to do to get their hands on the precious blossom. She winced at the thought of one of them risking the loss of a hand if they had gotten caught stealing it.
Without warning, the girl crawled up into Astrid’s lap and threw her arms around her. She snuggled her face into Astrid’s chest. Astrid, completely off her guard, gave the child a small pat.
“I’m so sorry, miss,” said the boy as he tried to pry his sister off Astrid. “I know it don’t seem like it, but she’s been talking about you nonstop. You’re a sort of hero to her—well, to us all.”
“All?” Astrid looked up to see several smudged and murky faces poking around from behind the weathered stone. They emerged one by one, each with a small beautiful flower in their hand. They scurried to where she sat and placed the blooms gently at her feet. Astrid stared wide-eyed at the scene. I’ve surely lost my mind.
The little girl looked up at Astrid, her soft brown eyes wet with tears. Astrid could feel her throat tighten. So much had happened, to them both. Both had cheated death and now both were seeking how to carry on with life.
A quaking rumble of thunder sent the children scattering into the growing darkness. Astrid glanced up at the sky toward the desert. A bruised storm cloud gathered in the distance. Lightening danced around its edges, lighting up the blackening sky. Biting wind scattered the precious blossoms into the shadows of the city.
The girl lingered, clinging to Astrid.
“We need to go!” Her brother clutched at her and heaved her up. He gave Astrid a quick nod and disappeared into the night.
Astrid looked down at her crumpled flowe
r. She tucked it carefully inside the fold of her jacket and turned her gaze toward the approaching storm.
The wicked clouds made her long for the safety of home. Ilsie would be worried out of her mind by now. Having no children of her own, Astrid and Ethen was all she had. It was a fact that Ilsie never let them forget.
The wind howled at her back as she hurried through the abandoned city streets. Windows were lashed shut and the doors were bolted. Limra had survived many storms from the sea, but all could feel that the approaching wrath was different, darker. The taint settled in the bones with the ache of a cold, hopeless fate.
Astrid could feel it with each step. Evil was coming—it hovered overhead and hung heavy in the air. It was coming, and she couldn’t help but feel it was coming for her.
Chapter Five
“He’s lucky we got here when we did,” said Luka as he washed his agile hands in a large jeweled basin. He looked up when Fryx didn’t answer. “He’s not going to die. Not anytime soon. He just needs rest.”
Fryx nodded as he ran his fingers through his rumpled beard. “Yes, of course. I apologize. I’m not myself at all. My poor Alistair… he’ll be furious about his leg.”
Luka dried his hands and tossed the towel over the basin’s side. “It was either his leg or his life. The rot had set in so deep he’s lucky I was able to do anything at all. I’m afraid Fae flesh doesn’t heal the same as a dwarve or an elf.”
Fryx sighed and shook his head. “Yes, I suppose so,” he said, his voice weary. “I am indebted to you. Anything you wish, name it and it will be yours.”
Luka smiled at the ragged dwarve. “A hot meal would be nice, and maybe a soft bed…”
The sea dwarve’s mouth hung agape. “You do realize that you could be rich! You would never want for anything again. Surely there’s something you desire!”
Luka stretched his arms out in a great yawn and folded his wings behind his back. “I’ve been cooped up in a cave for the past twelve years, eating whatever beast happened to scurry near enough to capture. I desire no more than a full belly and a good night’s sleep. I have no use for gold or jewels. They cannot buy what I truly desire.”
“And what is that?” Fryx’s sapphire blue eyes glinted in the flickering candle light.
“To be left alone,” said Luka, turning his gaze away from his eager host. “I mean no offense to you, but I have had my fill of this world.”
“I understand greater than you know,” said Fryx as he led him to the door. “The world is full of cruelty and wickedness. I assure you, though, you will find none here. I’d like you to think of this as a place of safety. You’re welcome here as long as you wish to stay.”
Luka followed Fryx out into the hall. The dwarve whispered an order to a nearby goblin. The goblin nodded and bustled into Alistair’s room. Quibell emerged from an adjoining hall, taking the place of the previous goblin, and bobbed a small bow before Fryx.
“My lord, I—”
“—Later, Quibell. Please show our guest to his room and fetch him something hot to eat,” said Fryx, dismissing the goblin with a wave of his ring-clad hand.
“But my lord, there’s—” A loud crash of thunder tore through Quibell’s words, sending the goblin’s knees knocking together with fear.
Ethen skidded into the hall, his face pale as sea foam. A small trickle of red crept down the side of his brow. “The storm’s getting worse and Astrid’s been gone far too long,” he said between heaving breaths. “I just got back from my village and no one has seen her there. The wind nearly tore me apart! My damn glider got smashed into the rocks…”
Luka hissed a curse under his breath. “Why would she leave? She should have known better! She’s still weak. If she’s caught out there, she’s as good as dead.” He unfurled his wings in a furious shake and headed toward the villa’s entrance.
“Wait!” Ethen dashed after him, followed by Fryx and Quibell. “You’ll be swept out to sea if you try flying in that! Trust me—the wind’s only got death on its mind.”
Luka’s brow darkened as he weighed Ethen’s words. The howling storm echoed throughout the silenced villa as he contemplated his fate.
“How do you know she’s even out there? She could just as well be safely stowed away in Limra,” said Fryx, laying a comforting hand on Ethen’s quivering shoulder. Ethen jerked away and towered over the sea dwarve.
“Astrid would never seek shelter in a strange place, not if it could be helped. She would have headed for home. Or at least here…” Ethen’s voice dwindled, his energy spent. He kicked at a low silken sofa before crashing down into it, his head buried in his hands. After a pause, he turned his gaze upward toward Luka. “You’re the only one strong enough to find her. Please… help me.”
I should have never left my cave, Luka thought as his eyes scanned the walls of the villa for something useful. Ah, that’ll do. He reached for a vast jeweled shield and ripped it from its fixture on the wall. He winced at the sound of Fryx gasping. “Sorry about that,” said Luka, his eyes low. He hefted the shield onto his forearm and tested its weight. It was sturdy and surely would withstand any debris the storm would toss his way.
Luka charged out the villa’s doorway before another word was uttered.
***
Fatigue had driven Astrid into the ground, too weak to stand. She couldn’t remember ever feeling such strain to take a step, let alone walk. The wind roared overhead as she buried her face in her arms. Rain pelted her from above. Flashes of lightning lit up the flesh of her closed eyes. Thunder shook the world around her with a fury she had never imagined possible.
Astrid lay bowed down against the storm, the rain beating her further into a muddy grave. No, she thought, snaking a shaky arm out before her, I’ll not die like this. I’ve cheated Death before, I’ll do it again.
She spat the dusty rain water from her gaping mouth and started to crawl her way to safety. One labored claw after another, she pulled herself across the storm-ravaged earth. Her breaths were ragged and came in great gasps. She feared stopping, knowing that she would not have to strength to keep moving.
Lighting flashed about her with blast of white light. A face from a distant past flooded her vision— an elf with troubled blue eyes and wild blond hair. His stare jarred her, chilling her heart with fear. The lightening gave a second flash, revealing a much more familiar face. Luka blinked at her through the rain, his phoenix face easing into a smile.
Astrid could feel her body relax from its state of panic. “It’s about damn time you showed up,” she said, latching onto his outstretched hand. “I was beginning to think you finally got tired of rescuing me.”
He laughed, plucking her from the mud. “I figured I may have to have the favor returned someday. It’s helpful if the indebted individual is alive, though.”
Luka sheltered Astrid beneath a large golden shield. She watched as the heavy droplets fell helpless of its jeweled surface. “That’s a nice shield. Did you rob a tomb on the way here?”
Luka smirked as he cast Astrid an irritated gaze. “Perhaps I would have if I had the time. Unfortunately, I was preoccupied looking for your sorry self. I’ve been out here at least an hour, if not more. I’ll be lucky if my feathers ever dry out.”
Astrid’s pale face tugged at a smile. “You sound like a sorry old hen.” She could feel her strength returning with each step. She didn’t know if it was his presence alone or some kind of effect of his powers. Astrid felt herself drawn to his warmth. She laid her head against his chest, feeling safe for the first time in a long time.
Astrid looked up into his eyes. They were deep blue and filled with a dark sadness. The words left her mouth without a thought. “What happened to you?”
Gusts of wind swirled around them while thunder continued its chorus of quaking rumbles. Luka stood still, staring back into Astrid’s eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words refused to budge. A bolt of lightning pounded into ground near them, sending them crashing back into the mu
d.
“We have to go! It isn’t safe here—” Luka was cut off by another fist of blazing lightning crashing into the nearby earth. He cast away the shield, grabbed Astrid and cradled her in his massive arms. The motion knocked the breath from her lungs and sent her head spinning. Luka broke into a run, pommeling over slick rocks and through violent rivers of mud. Crashes of lightning chased behind him, biting at his ankles.
Luka slid into Fryx’s villa, spilling out onto the polished sandstone floor. Astrid toppled out his arms only to be swept up by Ethen.
“Astrid! Are you okay? I went out to look for you but—”
“—I’m fine, really,” she said, pulling herself free. She looked at him. A trickle of blood hung on his brow and his sea green eyes were frantic. “You’ve looked better. Have you had that looked at?”
Ethen touched his brow and looked down at the red on his fingertips. “Oh, that—it’s fine, it’s just a scratch…” His face blanched at the sight of blood. “I may need to sit down.”
Astrid eased him onto a silky stool. “Some warrior you are.”
“At least I haven’t gotten myself killed,” he said, regretting his words. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring that up.”
“Ethen,” she said, digging through the pockets of her jacket, “really, it’s fine.” She cast him a look that read leave it alone. “Ah, here it is.” She pulled the blood weed from an inside pocket and rubbed it into the gash on Ethen’s head.
“Damn, that stings!” Ethen shot her a dark glare. She could see the hidden smile teasing his lips. “Some healer you are.”
Luka placed a hand on her shoulder. “Astrid… Fryx wishes to speak to you.” Quibell stood at his side, his normally smug blue face somber.
Astrid nodded, unsure of what to expect. Had the Phooka’s death upset him? Did Alistair not make it—surely Luka was able to heal him. She swallowed hard and followed the stern-faced goblin down a darkened side hall. He led her to a drift wood door. It was a smaller version of the one at the entrance of the villa. Quibell stroked the outside with his spindly-fingered hand. The drift wood snaked apart and opened.
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