Lightbringer

by Claire Legrand

  On her hands and knees on the terrace floor, she gulped down air. Her vision was full of stars. She was a brick of soft clay, and Corien was slicing her in two, in four, in eight, a knife unyielding. He could cut forever and never grow dull.

  Rielle crumpled to the floor, slammed her hands against her skull. She would fly apart. He would send her spinning.

  The light painting the terrace, drifting and golden, flickered, then dimmed. It was only for a moment, a stutter like a skipped heartbeat, but Kamayin, Miren, Sloane, and Evyline tore free of their bindings, scrambling free. The boy, Eliana’s companion, ran to join them.

  Then every light Rielle had crafted, including the wings glowing overhead, erupted into flames.

  “Get out of my head!” she screamed. The fresh fire roared high.

  Corien watched her coldly. There was a new anger in his face that she had never seen before. “No. I’ve tried that. I’ve allowed it. Never again.”

  Wild with pain, Rielle pushed herself up and grasped blindly for her power. She shoved her palms into the air. Snapping streaks of gold flew across the terrace, then shot off into the night. Her aim was terrible, her thoughts scattered. She couldn’t see, blinded by tears and the pulsing white waves of Corien’s fury. All she could feel was the cold fire of his anger.

  And still, unblinking, he watched her.

  She tried again, flung her power toward him in desperation. Energy pulsed across the terrace, hot and rippling, as if something huge had fallen from the sky. Corien hissed. His head snapped to the right. When he looked back at Rielle, tiny red pricks of blood spotted his face. A moment later, they were gone.

  “Rielle, I’m right here!” Audric crawled toward her. His wounds did not vanish, and his face was raw with terror, and yet still he fought to reach her. “I’m right here. Talk to me. Look at me, please!”

  The world was liquid. Rielle was underwater, paddling frantically for the surface. She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t find the ground.

  Tears streaming down her face, she searched for Eliana.

  The girl hadn’t moved. She stood rigid, her expression hard with anger. Light blazed in her palms, ready to be thrown. Ripe with heat, the air trembled around her. But if she struck Corien, would it hurt Rielle? Would he turn on her next and entrap them both?

  The glass doors burst open. Their painted suns shattered. A dozen angelic soldiers spilled onto the broad terrace, followed by three beasts, five, eight. One dropped down from the rooftop, skittered forward on the shiny black hooks of its wings. Another, reptilian and clever-eyed, an elemental child on its back, threw lashes of wind from its ash-blackened castings.

  “Protect the king!” Evyline roared, drawing her sword. Her arms and neck wore strips of burned flesh. The others hurried to join her—Miren, her army of knives darting like bolts of lightning through the air; Sloane, pulling shadows from every crack and crevice. Silver spirals of churning water flew from Kamayin’s glowing wrists, and Evyline charged, wild-eyed, every blow of her sword like the fall of thunder.

  But then Eliana whirled around and launched into the fight. Beside her, the others were nothing, clumsy and unremarkable. Even dizzy with pain, Rielle could not tear her eyes from her daughter. She was lovely in battle, her arms and legs quick as a dancer’s. Her coat whipped around her legs. She was filthy with blood and dust, and yet the hum of her power painted her resplendent, as if she had been born from the strokes of an artist’s gleaming brush. Her hands glowed brightest of all, encased in her castings—two pendants held snug to her palms by slender chains.

  More beasts tumbled down from the roof, shrieking stupidly for blood. With a furious sharp cry, Eliana spun to face the nearest one, sent it flying. It crashed through the stone railing and tumbled into the darkness.

  Rielle could have watched Eliana for hours. Arcs of light soared through the air, smashed into the angels’ armor, sent them clattering to the ground. But of course they rose again and again, and they would forever until they claimed victory.

  Then Rielle felt the air tighten with malice, the drawn breath before a scream. Her stomach dropped for miles.

  The angels had deployed their minds at last, their fiercest weapons. The brute force of their thoughts snapped through the air, seeking targets. They would seize these fighting women one by one and throw them to their deaths, or make them jump off the edge of the terrace themselves, command them to turn on each other until nothing was left but ruin. They would save Eliana for last and dismantle her piece by piece. Rielle drew a breath, dizzy with fear.

  But then something dove out of the sky. Nearly shadows, nearly bodies, but neither of these things and both of them at once. It was as when Rielle had opened the Gate—flashes of beauty, supple skin that gleamed as if freshly emerged from the sea, brief flashes of armor and cloaks, gowns and coats riotous with color. Streaming pale hair, long dark curls fluttering with ribbons. They were angels, each of their minds carrying echoes of what they had once been. And with no bodies to contain them, their memories spilled freely.

  Watching them descend, Rielle struggled to rise, shout a warning. But these angels, bodiless and roaring, dove to fight alongside Eliana, shielded Sloane and Kamayin. They wove through the attacking angels, wielded echoes of swords they had not held in an age. One of them had eyes black as river stones, white hair like strands of sea foam, shining platinum armor. She dove in front of Eliana, deflecting attacks of mind and claw. Her war cry struck Rielle’s bones.

  The armored angels, solid in the bodies Rielle had made for them, cursed the new arrivals. Rielle sensed the specific shape of their fury: these traitors would fight not just for humans, but for this girl who had come from the future to destroy the greatest among them—Kalmaroth, reborn, their salvation and their champion.

  A piece of Corien sat in each of the angels’ minds, ready in case he should need to command them, and the deeper he sank into Rielle’s thoughts, the more clearly she could sense their incandescent rage. She choked on it, her throat closing. Foul words shot from their mouths in Lissar, in Qaharis. Traitors! Filth!

  Mere seconds had passed since the moment Rielle had risen with Eliana at her side. She lifted her head against a great weight—the pressure of Corien, insistent and full of rage, each of his thoughts a vise.

  He stood over her, hands clasped behind his back. His voice was quiet, and yet her ears bled from it.

  “After everything we’ve shared,” he said, “after everything we’ve accomplished, you would turn from me?” He glanced beyond her. His face settled into harsh lines of anger. “You would let this girl, this liar, come between us?”

  Rielle tried to stand, but Corien’s mind shoved deeper, pinning her. She heard a scream and twisted on the stone, bleary-eyed, to see Eliana fall to her knees. Her castings shot careening power that blazed a charred path across the terrace. She clutched her head and cried out, and when she tried to rise, something unseen struck her. Her head snapped around, and she fell hard to the ground.

  Fury rose inside Rielle on a wave of white light. The pain in her head threatened to split open her skull, but she pushed past it and stood, found Corien, cut the air with her arm, and blasted him clear across the terrace.

  She whirled, her heart in her throat. Eliana was up and fighting again, and across the field of fire between them, their eyes locked, and Rielle had never felt such love in her life.

  Corien was up in moments. She heard him rise and stared him down as he came limping back for her. Blood trickled down his temple; his hair was wet with it. She felt a pang of remorse, but she would throw him again if she had to.

  “You will not touch her,” she told him evenly.

  “She’s a liar,” he spat. “You would let her come between us? This girl who came out of the night spinning stories designed to hurt me?”

  Blackness washed over Rielle, dragging claws of pain in its wake, and when it cleared fro
m her eyes, she found the sky, encircled in flames. She was on the terrace floor, screaming, and each time she twisted to rise, to reach for her power, the floor cracked beneath her. Spirals of light flew from her fingers, and great knots of fire rained down from the sky.

  “Rielle, listen to the sound of my voice! Don’t be afraid! I’m right here!”

  But she could not allow Audric near her. She would kill him, or Corien would. She shoved hard in the direction of his voice and hoped she had sent him far enough away.

  Corien crouched before her, watching as she fought for breath. Faintly, she heard Audric, still calling for her. Stay with me, Rielle! Fight him!

  She held her head, fought to look blearily up at Corien. The sight of him was horrible. His face was monstrous, pale as bone, his eyes a brilliant white that stabbed her eyes like needles. Somehow he had grown wings. Enormous and black, they were made of a thousand birds that spat raucous harsh cries.

  Rielle fought to look for Eliana. There she was, being swarmed by dozens of braying beasts. With beaks and talons, they tore her to shreds. Flames shot up Miren’s body. In seconds, she was ashes. Eliana’s companion, the boy, burst open, and from the place where his head had been poured shining waves of black beetles.

  Rielle shut her eyes, but still she saw them die, and still she saw the beetles merge to become a reflection of herself. And she was the fire too, and she was each of the beasts ripping open her daughter’s body, and she was every bird teeming on Corien’s back.

  “That is what you are,” Corien said quietly, unblinking. “This is the darkness that lives inside you. See it, Rielle. Remember it. Love it, as I do.”

  At last, Rielle found her voice. She could not look at him. He would not allow it. He pressed her skull against the floor.

  “I remember everything,” she rasped, her tears hot against the rough stone. “I remember how you drugged my thoughts, kept me stupid for weeks. I remember long months of you coming to me in dreams. I told you I wanted to sleep, and you kept me awake anyway, whispering to me of resurrection.”

  “You love our great work,” he said. “It brings you pleasure you have never felt before, joy you could never have found with them. You know this, Rielle.”

  She blinked hard against the bursts of pain pounding her skull. She tried to reach for her power, but her thoughts were too scattered. It was like clutching at water with only her hands.

  “Let me rise,” she choked out.

  “No. Not until I know you have come to your senses.”

  A sob of rage tore loose from her throat. “Release me!”

  “You fear yourself a monster,” he said, his whisper booming in her ear. “It eats at you. You killed your father. You killed Tal. You have killed and killed, and you will kill again. The Unmaker.” His voice slid against her like a mouth in the dark. “And what if it’s true? We are all monsters, full of perversities and violence. At least you and I accept this and have the power and intelligence to do something with it.”

  Rielle shook her head, struggling beneath the flat, hard press of his mind. One image rose to the surface, clung fast amid the chaos he was making of her thoughts: Eliana, falling to her knees in agony. Eliana, radiant in battle. Eliana, kissing her cheek.

  “I may be a monster,” Rielle said, the words thick with pain, “but I am no longer yours.”

  Corien’s shock was as clear and swift as if she had struck him.

  “I have loved you,” he said hoarsely, “as I have never loved anyone. You know this. You feel this every time I look at you.”

  The stone of the terrace was turning molten beneath Rielle’s fingers. She prayed it would suck her through and send her falling. Dirt and pebbles, flung by the wind, stung her cheeks. A storm was rising. Ten storms. The mountain shook beneath the castle, and the castle shook beneath their feet.

  “Look at me.”

  She did not. She watched the world ripple gold at her fingertips.

  Corien grabbed her chin, forced her to look up at him. “Look at me!” he roared, and then he wrenched her up off the ground and captured her mouth in a bruising kiss.

  His thoughts slithered in fast and locked into place inside her. He found the deepest hollows of her mind and settled there. His teeth caught her lip, bit hard. He sent her visions, memories. His bed in the Northern Reach, the furs askew, their bodies bare and flushed. That cave in Kirvaya where she had first kissed him. The warm safety of his arms after she had fled me de la Terre, heartbroken and furious. How he had crooned her name, pressed his lips to her hair.

  She whimpered, clutching his sleeves. The sound emboldened him. He deepened his kiss, his hands tight around her skull, and she could feel him toying with her desires, stoking them. If she would not respond on her own, he would force her. If she would not see the truth of his words, he would remake her eyes so she never saw anything but what he allowed her.

  And it would be easy, Rielle thought, to allow Corien this. In exchange, she would not have to touch anything that hurt her, or face the things she had done, or discover how to live in this world into which she did not quite fit. She could explore her power unfettered and care nothing for what she left in her wake.

  She tried to pull back for air, reeling from his kisses, but he tightened his hold on her, yanked her close against him. His anger was a film of tar at the back of her mouth. She could not breathe; her head pulsed with white waves of pain. His grip became punishing, his nails digging into her flesh.

  “Mine,” he sobbed against her mouth. “You’re mine, Rielle, and I’m yours. We understand each other. I can’t do this without you. And without me, you’ll be truly alone. They will never accept you. He will never accept you. They will spin new lies every day. They will smile to your face, and then, when the door has closed, they will whisper in fear of you and plot against you, and children will shudder at the mention of your name. You know this. Even him.” He shook her hard. “You know this.”

  “Stop,” she gasped, her voice trapped in her throat. His mind slurred her thoughts. “Let go of me, please!”

  “Never again, Rielle. Look at what you’ve made me do. I didn’t want this.” His mouth moved down her neck, his teeth scraping her skin. His presence was a fog in her mind, spreading fast. Soon, it would cover everything. She was helpless against him. When she reached for the empirium, her fingers met mud.

  “Mine,” Corien murmured. His hand tightened around her throat.

  As he moved back to her mouth, the birds shrieking at his back, she caught his little smile of triumph, the flash of his teeth.

  She found a faint thread of strength and slammed her hands against his chest.

  At once, his coat burst into flame. He lurched back from her, screaming, and tore it off. The white shirt beneath it was a wet field of red. Thin curls of smoke rose from his charred flesh.

  His eyes flew to her, white with rage. She looked behind her, searching frantically for Eliana. Corien’s visions had vanished. No beetles, no tearing beasts. There she was, still fighting. Her hands blazing, her heels throwing sparks. Made of light, her daughter, and faltering not even once. What a fearless woman she had made.

  Rielle laughed, choking on exhausted tears.

  Behind her, Corien spat, “You are an abominable creature.” He grabbed a chunk of her hair and wrenched her to her feet. He stank of burnt flesh, and still he was beautiful, his cheekbones painted with soot, his lips flushed from heat and desire.

  “I know this,” he said, “and I know every corner of your savage heart, your capacity for cruelty, your caprice, and yet I love you still. I would have you right here if you would let me. Fear you? I exalt you. Remember what I told you?” He laughed, tightening his grip on her hair. “You could burn me a thousand times, and I would still want you for my own.”

  Rielle strained to hear the sounds of Eliana fighting. How beautiful they were, like every song she had
ever known.

  “I have loved you, Corien,” she said, breathless with pain, with a new, muddled understanding. Each of Eliana’s blazing strikes struck like a bell inside her, fighting to wash her tired mind clean. “I have trusted you. Part of me will always belong to you. But not all of me.” She stumbled on the weight of her tongue. “You saw that I was afraid and worked to keep me that way. You saw that I was lonely and reminded me of it every time I thought of leaving you.”

  He laughed, stroking her cheek. “Listen to you. Queen of my heart. Is the pain making you delirious? Reject them, as you meant to, and I’ll take away everything that hurts you. Rielle.” Tears in his voice. “Please, do this for me.”

  Rielle’s vision pulsed black. Corien’s hands were gentle at her throat, and yet she reached for her power and could not find it. That shove, that bloom of fire on his clothes—she could find nothing more. Her mind was full of him, and if there was anything left of herself, she could not see it. Somewhere, Audric was screaming for her, but it was no use. Corien was inside her, and he would never leave, not now.

  The world spun, tossing her. She sagged against Corien’s bleeding chest, her eyes fluttering shut. What bliss, to let him hold her. He had promised he would take away the pain, that she would never be alone. Perhaps it was all right to believe him. Strange, that she could have thought otherwise.

  Corien kissed her hair, her cheeks. “My love,” he whispered, a smile in his voice. “There you are. You’ve come back to me. Very good, Rielle.”

  Then, abruptly, relief.

  Something cold and sharp dropped between them, severing the cords that bound them. Rielle fell to the floor, and Corien staggered back from her.

  His furious gaze shot to the terrace doors.

  Huddled on the floor, head pounding as if it had been pummeled for hours, Rielle shivered on the hot stone and watched a pale shape storm across the terrace.

  She drew in a sharp breath.

  It was Ludivine, grim and swift, her golden hair in a tight knot, her brocade gown of lilac and plum glimmering in the light of Rielle’s power. She marched toward Corien with the sword of Saint Katell in her hands.