The Mist slowly retreated from Lyssanne’s shield.
“Where was He?” Venefica said. “Luring me away for months to search for the child of His prophecy. Luring me here, where I’d be powerless to prevent my beloved’s death. Here, where everything that mattered would be taken from me—by you!”
The Mist withdrew farther from Lyssanne. It was turning, turning toward Lady Venefica.
“These things were not the King’s doing, nor mine,” Lyssanne said, her heart crying out for the means to save her foe. “Acknowledge His goodness before it is too late. That will break the Thief’s—”
“Silence!” Venefica shrieked, flinging her arms wide and slamming the breath from Lyssanne’s lungs. “I am going to kill you, Lyssanne Caelestis,” she drawled. Darkness pooled around her, a stain growing upon the flagstones, like ink spilled on parchment.
Brennus dared not move or speak. Even his breaths grew silent. He must do nothing to break Lyssanne’s battle focus. It blazed in her eyes, that fire which came over a warrior when every thought and sinew was honed to one purpose—survival.
She shimmered behind a half-sphere of transparent Light, bright as white-hot steel. She was a living rainbow, awash in the King’s power. He’d never beheld anything more beautiful, more terrifyingly fragile. ’Twas a wonder her brightness didn’t sear Venefica’s eyes.
A sudden force gripped his nebulous form and pulled, hard. As if he stood before the maw of a great beast that had taken a deep breath, he fought the suction, clawing at Venefica’s barrier for purchase.
The sorceress was preparing a deathblow for Lyssanne, drawing in every shadow to feed the Mist. Including Brennus. The magic pulled harder, flattening him against the barrier.
Through the swirling shadows, the battle played out in a tableau that stilled his heart—Lyssanne, radiant with holy power, yet helpless to save herself…Venefica, in the midst of a growing vortex of night, so black it threatened to swallow the world.
The hideous visage of the Shadow Mist turned its empty eyes upon its Keeper. It opened wide its jagged jaws, its phantom fangs snapping, ever ravenous for the taste of hate and rage.
In the last instant, Lyssanne tried to warn her, but Venefica fought the lure of Light with such ferocity, her renewed surge of power imploded upon her.
The Mist lunged.
Too late, Venefica saw her error. Her eyes, forever fixed on others with contempt, widened in terror. She took a single step back. Swathed in shadows she’d drawn to herself, she was powerless to break free of the enveloping spirit of Darkness.
Venefica’s lovely face contorted into a visage more repulsive than the gargoyles Brennus had shattered. The Mist’s jaws fastened over her body and…inhaled her.
Within a heartbeat, she was reduced to a wisp of vapor. The smoke of her essence dispersed, as if she’d never been.
In the time it took Brennus to blink, the Shadow Mist had ceased to be.
“Lyssanne!” he cried, his hollow voice echoing through the shock of Venefica’s destruction at her own hands.
For a pair of heartbeats, Lyssanne hung against the wall like a shining portrait. Then, her honey-brown skirts and silken hair billowed out, as she fell from a height no human could survive.
A scream ripped free of Brennus’s soul, and he plunged into the light.
30
Raven’s Flight
Brennus leapt forward, his hopes as wispy as his body.
He reached for the sunlight. If he remained shadow, Lyssanne would fall right through him, to her death. He stretched his arms wide, willing feathers to sprout. Even if the light transformed him in time, her weight would crush his bird bones, perhaps ending in her death anyway and certainly in his. Still, if there was the slightest chance…
He flexed his hands. Change! Where was the magic he detested—now when, for the first time in his life, he needed it? He stood directly below her, flapping his arms, calling forth the raven within. She fell, closer, closer. Even if he shifted now, there was no time to save her.
No! Great King, bear her up! Else, take me in her stead.
He stretched out his useless shadow arms…
And caught her!
The impact of her slight weight jolted him to his knees, Lyssanne cradled in his solid arms. He crushed her to him, the rise and fall of her chest a gentle pressure against his. Her shallow, uneven breaths fluttered his tunic, tickling his skin.
She was alive. They both were.
He buried his face in her soft hair. He could smell her—a mixture of faerie dust and forest. Even the slight scent of her exertion was sweet to him.
She reached a shaky hand up to his face. “You’re…you,” she whispered, “real.”
“Yes.” He could say nothing more.
Her hand slipped. He caught it against his cheek and lowered his lips to hers. He breathed into her, around her own shallow breaths, to fill her with life, with his strength.
No confection could be sweeter; no pot of flyl or woolen cloak could warm a man so. She was liquid light in his arms. At last, a light whose touch brought not a curse consigning him to wallow in death, but the promise of new life.
After an age, he forced himself to lift his lips from hers. What would he see in those sapphire eyes? Anger? Fear? Revulsion? Almost, he did not care. He looked down into those Xavier-blue depths, and the breath left him anew.
She blinked up at him, eyes shining with new fire…and smiled. Then, her eyes fluttered closed, and she sagged in his embrace.
“Lyssanne!”
“Fear not,” a melodious voice said, followed by a metallic crash behind him.
Brennus twisted around. Venefica had dissolved before his eyes. Who—?
Across the chamber, a fair-haired woman rose from a crouch, shaking out iridescent wings. “Lyssanne’s body is merely taking its needed rest,” the faerie said, violet eyes sparkling as she stepped over the remains of an iron birdcage. “I am Serena.”
“Your Majesty,” he whispered. “I should have freed you. Forgive me. You’d grown so silent, and I—”
“Had other concerns.” Serena knelt beside him, her pink gown spreading like a flower.
Nodding, he drew Lyssanne close and dried the tears shimmering on her ashen cheeks. Her tears or his own? “Lyssanne,” he whispered, over and over…her name, a song of praise, a prayer of gratitude to the greatest of all kings. “Lyssanne.”
She lay still, her two watchers keeping soundless vigil, for once openly and without feathers—and, for once, with shared purpose.
Her fingers flexed within Brennus’s. A hard shudder quaked through her body, and she inhaled a sharp gasp. Then, a soft whimper escaped her lips. “Please,” she whispered, new tears leaking from her closed eyes.
“You’re safe,” he murmured. “It is over.” A paralyzing thought struck him. What if it were he, she feared? “It was a lie,” he whispered. “What she said, everything she said. I would never betray you. I…I would give my life for yours.”
She blinked up at him, her haunted expression melting away. “I thought you a dream.”
“Oh, love,” he said, “I thought I’d lost you.”
“Me too.”
Brennus pulled her to him again, resting his lips against her brow, a kiss that wasn’t a kiss. He needed a moment to compose himself. For her, he must be strong. Her whispered plea for mercy had nearly undone him. Never, he vowed, would she suffer as she had this day.
“Brennus?” Lyssanne’s muffled voice stirred his tunic.
“Yes, love,” he said into her hair. “I am here.”
“I…I can’t…breathe.”
He loosened his hold. “Forgive me.”
“How do you feel?” the faerie queen asked.
Lyssanne flinched.
“Fear not,” Brennus whispered, running a thumb along her palm. “Lyssanne, may I present Her Majesty, Serena, Queen of Faeries.”
Lyssanne gasped, then struggled to sit up.
“There is no need for
ceremony,” Serena said. “We are, after all, old friends.”
“Yes, but,” Lyssanne whispered, “I didn’t know…”
“Rest, dear one,” Serena said. “The time for haste will soon enough be upon us.”
Brennus stared at the stone wall across the tower. Venefica had put this weakness in Lyssanne’s voice, but he had brought her here to allow it.
“Self-loathing will profit you nothing, Prince of Navvar,” Serena said. “Your vow to the King ended your blame in this affair. Lyssanne has forgiven you, as has He. Forgive yourself, else risk retracing the path you’ve forsaken.”
“You read my thoughts, Your Majesty?”
The queen laughed. “No, they are clear enough in your eyes. And call me Serena, both of you. Friends need no formality between them.”
“Friends,” Brennus murmured.
“Your spell,” Lyssanne whispered, again struggling to sit up. “’Tis broken…Serena?”
Brennus lifted her and leaned her against him, his arms encircling her, unwilling to let go.
“It died with the sorceress,” said Serena.
Lyssanne looked up at Brennus. “She’s…”
“Gone,” he said, “Consumed by her own favored weapon.”
Lyssanne covered her mouth, shivering again. “The shadows…swallowed her.”
“Yes,” said Brennus. “You saw it?”
She nodded. “Somewhat.”
Moisture dripped onto Brennus hand where it clasped Lyssanne’s at her waist. Then, another droplet joined the first. “What’s amiss, love?” He turned her to face him. “Are you in pain?”
She shook her head. “I never wanted this, never wanted to hurt anyone.”
“In battle, the King’s Light is your weapon,” Serena said. “Weapons wound, Lyssanne. Still, you did not cause her death. Venefica Mortifer was the victim of her own choices.”
Lyssanne’s tears flowed all the more.
“Why weep for her?” Brennus whispered, stroking her hair. “That witch murdered in her attempts to destroy you. And what she’s done to you…you’re limp as unbaked bread in my arms.”
“She’s forever lost to the King,” Lyssanne said. “A fate far worse than any I’ve suffered.”
Brennus’s innards shuddered at how close he’d come to sharing that fate.
“We are free, love,” he said. “Whatever else it means, her death has ended our curses.”
“Her demise cannot be credited with that,” Serena said. “It removed only the bonds she had placed upon me and the presence of the Shadow Mist in this place.”
“But we are free?” He tightened his hold, as if his arms could protect Lyssanne from pain’s return. “She no longer suffers? Venefica cast the curse; it must be over.”
“Oh, yes, Prince.” Serena rested a hand on his shoulder. “You are both free.” She pulled away. “Lyssanne’s curse broke before the sorceress fell to her chosen darkness. Did you not see the King’s Light flare within her, burning away the sickly shroud encasing her head?”
“I saw the Light, yes. Filaments of it wove all over her scalp, as if—”
“Remaking her,” Serena said. “When Venefica sought to rekindle the pain, Lyssanne denied the deception, forever breaking the curse’s power and Venefica’s to reinstate it.”
“It can never return?” Lyssanne asked.
“Never,” Serena said.
“Forever shall my thanks go before the King,” Lyssanne whispered.
“And mine,” Brennus said. “One thing I must know, Serena, if you can tell me.”
“I shall do as I am permitted.”
“Why is it, if not by Venefica’s death, that I am free?”
“You have fulfilled the terms of the generational curse set upon your ancestor,” she said. “You, at last, fulfilled a noble quest.”
“How?” he asked. “This wasn't the first time I’ve saved a life, saved Lyssanne’s, in fact. That never sufficed. Besides, today I was able to do so only because the curse had broken, not before.” He pinned Serena with a direct stare. “Why this time?”
“That instant, alone, did not free you. When you pledged fealty to Lyssanne, forsaking the one thing which mattered most to help her fulfill the King’s call, your true quest began.”
Lyssanne squeezed his hand.
“In the end,” Serena said, “when that quest succeeded at a price, you had not even the woman you…cherished…to gain. For, either she would live, resulting in your crushing death, or you would live, failing to save her. The King perfected the quest for you, who had given higher value to His will and purpose than to honor, family, or life.”
“I begin to understand,” Brennus said to Lyssanne, “your unwavering faith in His goodness. No knight ever stood more highly favored than to serve such a King.”
“True words, friend,” Serena said, “but we must leave at once. The dark creatures who survived the battle of Cloistervale will swarm this mountain within moments.”
Lyssanne gasped. “Clark!” She struggled to stand.
“Careful,” Brennus said, steadying her. “We know not what injuries you've sustained. We shall find Clark.”
As they neared the door, Lyssanne glanced about the chamber, perchance seeking some sign of the struggle which had nearly cost them everything. Nothing remained but Serena’s broken cage. Not even a wisp of ash marked the place of Venefica’s passing.
They descended to the servant’s hall then rounded the corner. The blacksmith met them at the foot of the grand staircase.
“Thank the King!” Clark said, engulfing Lyssanne in his burly embrace. “I bound the witch’s loyal servants in the dining hall,” he said. “Had to lock that Magda woman in a room alone. I sent the folks who were here under duress back to the village.”
“Let us flee,” Serena said. “Leave the prisoners. Take nothing from this lair of darkness.”
“The only thing I wish to take from this place,” Brennus said, “is Lyssanne. Follow close, I shall not wait for stragglers.” He looped an arm around Lyssanne’s waist and ducked into the passage to the river.
As they passed Murrough’s Mill, Lyssanne stared ahead, only the motion of those beside her guiding her steps. She’d almost died, and her part in the Mist Keeper’s demise couldn’t be denied. She clutched her elbows as waves of cold washed over her.
Brennus caught her arm and raised a hand to call a halt, then pulled her to him.
She leaned against him, closing her eyes to recall the warmth of a similar embrace. He’d snatched her from certain death then called her love. How much of that had been real, how much a swooning dream?
She peered up at him. Her breath hitched at the dangerous beauty his countenance had taken on in the full light of the sun. In all the months she’d known him, how had she never realized she’d seen that face only by night?
“Come,” Brennus said, lifting her into his arms, “I shall return you to the sanctuary so you may rest.”
Lyssanne groaned as his arm pressed against her bruised back. “No, please, I must find Jarad and the others. Those images I saw in the Mist…”
“You can trust nothing you saw or heard in that tower. Venefica meant to torture you.”
“Let us discover how her friends have fared,” Serena said. “She will have no rest, else.”
“As you wish,” Brennus said. “Only close your eyes and allow me to carry you the remains of the journey. I suspect our battle is far from ended.”
Lyssanne leaned against him and let his footfalls rock her into a fitful doze.
A sudden, earsplitting crunch startled her awake.
“Venefica’s tower,” Brennus murmured, setting Lyssanne on her feet.
“The darkness has consumed itself,” Serena said, gazing toward the mountains. “The decay of years left the place susceptible to the violence of the Thief’s creatures. It has fallen, crushing the last of them.”
“Fitting end,” Clark said.
“Indeed,” Brennus said, keeping his
body between Lyssanne and that sight.
Across Nettleworth’s field, balls of jewel-bright color streaked toward them. Every hue Lyssanne could name, and a few she could not, whirled in a tightening circle around Serena, then the rainbow dance of lights ended, all but three of the colors streaking off in different directions.
Two green orbs and a larger, purple ball of light floated toward Serena. With a sizzle, the three faeries unfurled into their human-like forms.
Lyssanne gasped. “Captain Alvar?”
The purple-clad faerie nodded. “It is finished, then?”
“Yes,” Serena said. “Venefica Mortifer is no more.”
“Thank the King you are free, Majesty, and you all survived,” Olivia said, leaf-green sparks pulsing around her. “Lyssanne, it is a gift to see you whole and safe.”
“And you,” Lyssanne said, “all of you.”
“I see you’ve shaken loose your feathers, as well, Prince of Navvar,” Jada said.
“The King’s mercies are endless, it seems,” Brennus said.
“We lost several good warriors in that battle,” Alvar said, an edge to his voice. “Light is the swiftest force in all the King’s creation, Lyssanne. What took you so long?”
Another wave of ice surged through Lyssanne, conquering her ability to speak.
Brennus’s hand clenched at her waist. “Torture has a way of delaying one’s victory, faerie,” he said. “I don’t suppose you can be expected to understand that.”
Alvar shot between Olivia and Jada, growing larger as he moved.
Serena raised her palm toward Alvar, and he froze. “Lyssanne has brought great honor to the King, this day,” she said. “As have you all.”
Alvar diminished to his original size, then sailed back a pace. “Indeed, Your Majesty,” he said, bowing. “The battle is won. We shall rejoice in that.”
Brennus eased his hand from the hilt of his sword, but kept Lyssanne close as the two FAE captains and Jada gave their queen a full report of the battle for Cloistervale.
Keeper of Shadows (Light-Wielder Chronicles Book 1) Page 43