The Obsidian Tower
Page 43
“Because he’s an arrogant ass,” I said instead.
My grandmother let out a short bark of a laugh. “He is an ass. Both of them, actually. Having a conversation with Hunger is impossible—everything is always about him.”
“Why give him control of the gate?” Above all else, I had to keep her distracted; so much the better if I could sow division between the demons while I was at it.
“To see what he’ll do with it.” My grandmother shrugged. “Better to have him make an idiot of himself waving all that power around than have it sit locked up doing nothing.”
“The Black Tower is yours,” I insisted. “It’s in your domain. If you let him have the gate, you’re letting him have Morgrain.”
My grandmother’s lips twitched downward into a frown. “Of course he can’t have Morgrain,” she snapped. “Morgrain is mine, by blood and bone. I am its protector.”
“If you give him the gate, you’re setting him up in a seat of unassailable power right in the heart of your own domain. Can’t you see that?”
A choking cry came from Severin, and I whipped my head around, my heart leaping fearfully.
Aurelio had him by the throat, a fierce grin on his face. Severin hung limp from his upraised hand, gray and wasted.
Like a corpse who’d died of starvation.
I let out a sharp cry of anguish, but Severin’s hand twitched, and relief flooded me. He wasn’t dead—not yet.
Ashe lunged from where she knelt on the floor, blood flying in a trail behind her, and sliced Answer across the backs of Aurelio’s legs. With a howl, he fell to his knees, dropping Severin to lie motionless on the floor.
Bastian surged up from the ground, quick as lightning, using his good arm to fling a vial of some alchemical potion into Aurelio’s face. Smoke rose up with a horrible sizzling sound and an acrid stench; Aurelio covered his face with clawed fingers, letting out a muffled scream.
Hell of Nightmares. It was too terrible watching them destroy each other, piece by piece. But the Rookery would not stay down. Ashe knelt panting in a pool of her own blood, waiting for another opening. Bastian downed a potion as he wove on his feet, face greenish and shining with sweat, body curled protectively around his withered arm. And Kessa was reaching out urgently to Ashe with a fistful of leaves, presumably some magically enhanced herb to help keep her from dying of blood loss. They were far from out of tricks. My heart surged with fierce pride to be part of their company.
“He’s too arrogant.” My grandmother shook her head, her eyes still on Aurelio. “He can heal himself, certainly, but he should never have let them do that. Too much damage and the body will die, and he’ll have to waste time and energy seizing another.”
“Will you really let him be just as careless with Morgrain?” I urged. I could see Foxglove out of the corner of my eye, working his way around the circle, lying almost flat to the ground in his gray coat to avoid catching my grandmother’s attention. I had to get her to move away from the obelisk.
Suddenly, a blinding light flared from Aurelio, and heat blasted my face. Bastian, Ashe, and Kessa flew backward as if struck by a massive invisible hand, hitting the walls with boneless thuds. I flinched at the sound.
They collapsed to the glassy black floor like rag dolls. Not one of them stirred.
This time, they stayed down.
My insides lurched with a sickening fear for my friends. Between their terrible magical injuries and the force with which they’d hit that wall, it was hard to imagine that they could survive. Every inch of me screamed to run to their aid—but if I lifted my foot from the circle on which I stood, the wards could kill Foxglove. A stifled whimper escaped my throat.
“How dare you greet me with such insolence,” Aurelio hissed, in a voice not his own. “Humanity has forgotten much in four thousand years. I’ll hang your carcasses over the castle gate as part of their first lesson.”
My grandmother shook her head. “Ugh. Tasteless.” She sauntered toward Aurelio, her teeth bared in a warning grin. “I think you forget who makes decorating decisions for Gloamingard.”
Aurelio staggered to his feet, wincing; shimmering light crawled across the bloody backs of his knees. “You said we could be partners.”
“I’m reconsidering,” my grandmother said, her tone insultingly casual.
Foxglove moved from his position halfway behind the obelisk, carefully creeping out in the open. He lay down with his back to the door, looking as if he’d fallen there in the battle, shielding the quick motions of his hands from sight with his body. If either of the demons thought about it for a second, they’d realize the fight hadn’t come this close to the gate; but hopefully he could at least avoid pulling attention out of the corners of their eyes this way.
“I need ten minutes,” he whispered to me.
It might as well be a thousand years. But I nodded, dipping a neck rigid with tension. “I’ll give it to you.”
“If I might interject, I’m not excited at the idea of corpse-based decorating, either,” Aurelio said, his voice human again and shaky with pain and shock. Perhaps he was having second thoughts about letting a demon share his body now that it was too late. Idiot. His fate might be terrible, but he’d jumped into it with his eyes open. “I don’t want to rule anything or hurt anyone. I only want access to the gate so I can protect my home. If we can come to some kind of agreement—”
My grandmother laughed. “I’m the Demon of Discord, little boy. Agreement is against my nature.”
“I should have seen this coming.” His voice went hard and sharp.
“You should have, Hunger. We’ve done this dance before.” My grandmother put her fists on her hips. “There is one difference. This time, I’m not just Discord. I’m also the Lady of Owls, and I do not share my domain.”
“You let that human pollute your soul.” Disgust twisted Aurelio’s face, followed by surprise at the words that had left his own mouth.
“I did not allow or intend anything of the sort,” my grandmother retorted. “As it happens, however, we were a fine match, and I like who I am now.”
“And who are you?” Aurelio sneered—or Hunger did. “Neither human nor demon, but a mockery of both.”
“I am the Witch Lord of Morgrain.” Her voice took on a great and terrible resonance, as the Black Tower itself echoed her words with a deep rumbling of stone. “And this place is mine. Get out and find your own.”
Foxglove slithered along the floor to the next spot on the circle, giving my feet a wide berth. “Two more,” he whispered.
“Minutes or tokens?” I asked, barely moving my lips.
“Tokens,” he replied. “Don’t step off that circle until I’m done, no matter what.”
My grandmother advanced on Aurelio, waving a dismissive hand at him. “Get out of here, boy, and take Hunger with you. I’ve had my fun playing with you; we’re done.”
“For now,” the demon said with Aurelio’s lips, sounding resigned. “Your whims could shift again tomorrow, and you know it.”
“Perhaps. I’ll find you if they do. But this gate is mine. Go, before I destroy your host and leave you cold and formless in the empty night.”
Aurelio’s eyes widened with a very human fear at that, and he turned and fled.
Pox. Apprehension spiked through me like a crackle of lightning. Foxglove still had two tokens to go, and now our last distraction was gone.
My grandmother turned slowly around. “What are you doing, Ryx?”
Menace lay under her voice like sheathed claws. She paced toward me, no mercy softening the hard shine in her eyes.
“Watching your ally hurt my friends and wondering how you can ask me to side with you.” I broadened my stance in the weak hope that I could at least partially block Foxglove from her view.
“Did we not just discuss how I don’t want anyone else tampering with my gate?” she asked pleasantly.
“Grace of Mercy,” Foxglove breathed, so softly I almost couldn’t hear him.
“I’m disappointed, Ryx.” She shook her head. “After everything I’ve done for you.”
“You turned me over to the Shrike Lord.” I let anger color my voice, hoping to draw her into an argument. “You knew he planned to kill me. Why should I believe you have any good intentions toward me at this point?”
“You wound me. All I want is for you to come into your own.” She paused, her eyes narrowing, and power and menace gathered in the air until I could hardly breathe from the pressure of it. “Perhaps the Shrike Lord simply didn’t bring you close enough to death.”
Graces help me. Here it comes. Every muscle in my body went rigid, bracing for pain.
“That’s enough of that,” said a new voice, languid as a snake uncoiling.
Whisper prowled through the door into the Black Tower, the red glare of the wards reflecting off his fierce angled eyes.
My grandmother turned to face him.
“I thought you always stayed neutral,” she said, a strange note in her voice.
Wariness. Hells have mercy, she saw him as a threat.
“I do,” Whisper agreed. “You’ll note I didn’t interfere with you and Hunger until now, even though I disapprove of tampering with the gate. But there is still the matter of my promise.”
“You can’t be serious,” my grandmother snorted. “It’s far too late for you to keep it.”
Foxglove eased his way silently across the floor toward another spot in the circle. One more, he mouthed to me over his shoulder.
“I’m deadly serious. Do what else you will here. Unleash the rest of the demons if you wish. But in this one thing, never interfere with me.”
“I’ll do what I cursed well please with my own domain and my own granddaughter,” my grandmother growled. “We’re going to have words about this, old friend. Right after I kill these others and put an end to their meddling.”
Whisper’s tail tip flicked across the floor, brushing the Rookery’s lives away as irrelevant. “Fair enough.”
Hells. And for one moment, I’d thought he was keeping her occupied so that Foxglove could finish his work. I should have known better; he’d told me again and again that he couldn’t take my side.
My grandmother turned toward Foxglove, lifting a hand.
“Wait,” I cried, my heart pounding. “I’m not an idiot. I know you’re talking about me. Grandmother, I’ll do whatever you want—just don’t hurt them. You win!” I threw up my hands. “I don’t understand, though. What is it you want me to do?”
“I would think that would be obvious.” She cast a sidelong glance at Whisper, who watched her narrowly, tail lashing a warning. “She asked me. You stay out of this.”
“So long as you don’t say anything that forces me to intervene,” he agreed, his voice smooth as a silk garrote.
My grandmother turned her fiery orange eyes back to me. “You know what I want.”
“For me to stop bottling up my power.” I spread my arms, trying to keep her attention on me. “But I don’t understand why.”
She cast a sidelong look at Whisper. A sly smile tugged at one side of her mouth. “To set you free.”
“Touching as that sentiment may be,” I said, unable to keep the irony from my voice, “I don’t want to kill and destroy everything around me.”
My grandmother sighed. “And that’s always been the problem with you.”
I clenched my fists at my sides. A healing thorn wound in my wrist twinged—one that wouldn’t be there if the grandmother I loved hadn’t left me to die for, essentially, her own amusement.
It would be easier if she were gone. But this woman in front of me was still, at least in part, my grandmother, and that cut deepest of all.
Ashe’s voice floated into my memory, soft and compelling: And the kind girl was carrying a jar.
Hells. I squeezed my eyes shut, then open again. If I didn’t hold on to her heart for her, no one would.
“My power is not my nature,” I said through my teeth. “I want to protect Eruvia, not wreak destruction on it for fun. And you might be a demon now, but that’s not your nature, either. You’d do anything for the good of Morgrain and your family. You’re my grandmother, and I know you, and that will always be true.”
Pain tautened her face, and she stepped back as if I’d struck her.
“Ryx…” Her voice had gone rough and quiet, and a softness crept into her eyes.
“Done,” Foxglove cried, flinging himself back from the circle and to his feet. “Now, Ryx!”
Inwardly cursing his timing, I stepped off the warding circle.
The runes and arcing lines carved into the floor began to glow again, faintly at first, with a sullen radiance like old embers. My grandmother’s eyes narrowed, and she reached out toward the barrier.
Sparks flew from her fingertips; she snatched her hand back. Slowly, she turned, leveling her burning glare at me.
I’d never felt her anger before. Not like this. The full, terrifying measure of her predator’s stare bored into me, merciless, with the weight of an entire domain crashing down on me behind it. I shrank back in instinctive fear, a mouse before the talons of a descending owl.
“You tricked me!” she snarled. “You said all that to distract me!”
“No! I meant every word of it.” I reached out a pleading hand, my heart twisting.
My grandmother swept an arm back at Foxglove without looking. He went flying across the room and smashed into the obsidian wall, sliding down with a groan to lie still on the floor. Red light from the wards soaked all of the Rookery like spilled blood.
“I respect a good trick,” my grandmother said through her teeth, “but there are consequences, Ryx.”
She drew herself up, and it was as if all of Gloamingard sucked in a long breath, gathering power. I backed away from her, knowing too well there was nowhere I could run, my breath frozen in my throat.
“I know you, Ryx.” Her voice held all the deep, eerie wildness of an owl’s cry. “Better than you can imagine. And I know that nothing will hurt you more than watching your friends die.” The mage mark in her eyes glowed like a molten wire as she caught my gaze, and my insides plunged. She meant it.
I should have been terrified, but it was as if my capacity for horror had already been exceeded. Now my inner vessel overflowed with something else—something clearer, stronger.
“No,” I said, and my voice came out far more sure and steady than it had any right to.
My grandmother raised one white eyebrow. “No?”
“You won’t.” I walked toward her, past Whisper’s languorous witness, until we stood face-to-face. “You won’t hurt me, and you won’t kill them. Because we care about each other too much.”
“Please.” Her lip lifted in distaste. “Spare me the sentiment. It doesn’t suit you.”
“Maybe not, but it’s true.” Finally, all doubt was gone from my heart. “You put up with me wrecking things in your castle for seventeen years. You treated me like your granddaughter, not like the family embarrassment. You taught me, and you brought me tea when I had nightmares. It makes no sense, but I can’t stop loving you just because you’re a demon, or even because you sent me off to the Shrike Lord’s mercy.” I shook my head, disgusted at myself. “I don’t know that it’s a strength, but that’s the way it is. You’re my family. And I’m yours. We’re stuck with each other.”
She grunted, a harsh sound, but one I knew well from when she was covering up a surge of emotion. “And why would this stop me from killing the Rookery? I don’t give a rat’s tail about any of them.”
“Because if you did, I couldn’t forgive you. And you need me.” I reached out, feeling as daring as if I were about to pet a venomous snake, and lightly touched her shoulder. Just as she had for me, all those years, when no one else in this castle could. “You’re afraid of your own children,” I said softly. “You never sho
wed yourself to Aunt Karrigan or Vikal after you became a demon, because you couldn’t bear it if they hated you. You’re terrified of losing them—but you know I understand about being a monster. You won’t lose me just because you’re half a demon now. But you will lose me if you kill my friends.”
Her eyes narrowed to hard slits, her whole face tensing. She drew in a sharp breath through her teeth and turned away.
For a long moment, there was silence. My heartbeat drummed in my ears. The heat leaking from the gate baked my skin, and the red light and power in the air oppressed my senses until I was sure I would scream.
“Take them and get out,” she said at last, her voice low and rough.
“What?” The word burst out before I could stop it.
“Take your friends and get out of this castle. Out of all of Morgrain. If you stay here, you’ll be a splinter in my mind, and I’ll worry at you until you break.” She strode toward the door, without looking back.
“You too, chimera,” she added sharply. Whisper pretended not to hear her.
And then she was gone.
My knees gave way without warning, dumping me on the hard obsidian floor. Something between a gasp and a sob hit me in the chest. I had to get up, had to go help the others, but for one moment, my limbs were numb with shock and wouldn’t answer me.
Kessa sprang up from where she had lain, so quickly she must have been faking unconsciousness. Herbs and what looked like a potion bottle already in hand, she raced without hesitation to Ashe, who sprawled still and pale in scarves and ribbons of blood. Bastian lifted his head weakly, cradling his arm, and called out, “Foxglove?”
“I’m fine.” Foxglove winced as he heaved himself into a sitting position. “Broken wrist from a bad landing, maybe some ribs, probably a concussion. You?”
“I’ve felt better.” Bastian’s voice was rough with pain. “Downed a few potions, and I think I can brew something to fix my arm, but that was unpleasant. How’s Ashe?”