by R. K. Thorne
“Every time?”
His jaw clenched. “Most of the time.”
“And what happens the other times?”
“I… cross over.”
“And how does that go for the fight?”
“Well, I can’t feel myself getting beaten, so that’s a plus. But I can’t see to fight back either.”
Dalas was nodding. “Your mother grew up constantly in and out of two worlds. Learning two sets of rules about everything. Constant nausea, constant incapacitation. Suddenly ending up somewhere she hadn’t started. She was lucky. She had several spirits that looked after her, her father in particular, and he taught her to seek the animals’ help in this realm. She had more help in that world than this one. But two worlds for a child? A toddler? It’s enough to drive anyone insane. She is lucky she made it out with her mind intact. Mostly intact.”
“Why?” he demanded. “Why do we have this ability?”
“Because her father was a spirit,” Dalas breathed. “A ghost. Some would say, a demon.”
“A demon?”
“Whatever you want to call a creature that can move between the worlds. Just like you can move between them.”
Nyalin was shaking his head. “You’re saying she was… part demon? Are you saying I am—”
“She was half spirit,” said Dalas, refusing to go the demon route. “And you are a quarter. But what I’ve told you, it’s only the very edge of the blade. Her struggle didn’t end there. If Lara had more to give you, if she had a blade, if you had your own magic… you could be very, very dangerous, and in grave danger yourself.”
But she did have a blade. And he was going to find out what they could do with it whether Dalas liked it or not.
A minor gong rang out in the tower, the hour passing. Both their heads shot up, like dogs on the hunt. It was almost time.
“I will go to the Contests,” Nyalin spat out. He backed away, needing to move but not wanting to turn away just yet. “But then we’ll talk. We’re not done here.”
“I know.” Dalas nodded. “Please. Whatever you do. Don’t break that lock.”
“No promises,” Nyalin said.
Dalas wrung his hands around his wrists but seemed to accept Nyalin’s words. He took one more hopeful step forward, but Nyalin danced back. “Go on. I will explain all when you return. And good luck, my son.”
Nyalin’s steps faltered, but he could think of no answer. In spite of all the anger, and all the questions, something surged and eased in his chest at the emperor’s words.
He gave Dalas one sharp nod, turned, and ran.
Considering she’d spent most of her mornings with Nyalin for the last few weeks, Lara found herself unsure of exactly what to do while he was off with the emperor. They’d practiced every spell and charm they could. They’d perfected the flow of energy, talked through strategies if she was drawn away for a time—like giving him a bit of a well to work with, or for either of them to delay and excuse themselves so they could return.
There was nothing left. If they hadn’t tried it by now, one morning wasn’t going to change anything.
While she was tempted to go sit in the stadium and wait, that would hardly be comfortable. And people might misinterpret her enthusiasm.
Instead, she took to the gardens again. But the cold morning air chilled the stone benches, the trees were wet with morning dew, and the air bit through her cloak and crossover and into her bones. And so she hit the streets for a walk.
Anything to burn off this nervous, reckless energy.
And so she wasn’t sure exactly what part of the district she was in when a bag closed over her head.
She jabbed an elbow backward, and from the sound of it she made contact, but there was more than one attacker. How many limbs were there, pulling her back and down? She stomped as hard as she could, aiming for toes and insteps, and lashed out when she got an arm free. She threw bubbles of shadow and water left and right, but being unable to aim, what good would they do? If any? There were way, way too many. She went down, and rope tightened around her wrists, hands crushing her fingers to keep her from breaking their hold.
Yeska!
My daughter! I am coming!
Her ankles, too, were bound, and her body was hoisted up over someone’s shoulder, and try as she might, her kicks accomplished nothing but making her feel sick. And throwing up while a bag was tied over her head didn’t seem like the greatest idea.
She gritted her teeth, pricked her ears, and listened. She would figure out who they were and where they were taking her, and then she’d make them pay.
Chapter 14
Underground
The jog away from the emperor was a hazy mess. Nyalin ran and ran, and he wasn’t even sure in which direction or how far, but somehow he ended up in the Bone District again. The day was still early, and he’d run off half his energy—or maybe all of it.
But his head was still whirling with questions.
He stopped to catch his breath for a moment next to some large clan storehouses. He planted his hands on his knees and panted.
His father was the emperor.
He wasn’t just Linali’s son. He was the emperor’s son. What the hell did that mean?
He didn’t want it to mean anything. But he wondered now if, like Lara, the title would come with some obligations, even if he hadn’t known it until an hour before.
And Pavan… was Dalas. And Dalas had always been there, always cared for him. More than a random servant should have, he realized now. It had never seemed odd because it had always been that way. He’d always felt Dalas’s love for him, and the man had been like a father to him. Nyalin had even seen it in Pavan today, in the way the man had heaped food on his plate.
What could possibly make an emperor give up his only son for someone else to raise?
That was the real question.
He started off on a slower walk, headed back toward the Bone manor and eventually the stadiums. He still had a little time. He had what he needed on him, aside from a practice blade, which he could also get at the Contests, he’d heard. One that looked less rusty might be a good thing…
By the goddesses. He hoped this wasn’t going to be horrifically embarrassing. What if somehow their plan didn’t work? And even worse, what if it did? Emperor Pavan would know of their deception. Elix would know too. Who else had helped them? Surely not Cerivil, but other clan leaders? They would all know he and Lara had cheated.
The plan had been imperfect, but he’d never counted on this.
He had to find Lara and tell her. He needed to get back to the Bone manor, catch her before she left for the stadium. He leapt into a run again.
Even in his disturbed haze, he sensed the lunge of the first man from the alley. He spun, whirled, and dove into a roll. But there was another to greet him at the end, launching a punch at the cobblestones and his head.
Nyalin rolled back the other way. Not now. Not again.
Three more ran up and jumped toward him, but he never even saw them arrive. A slam of energy hit him hard, then another, then a third, and the world didn’t even get to shiver this time. He was thrust into the afterworld, any grip on his original one lost like sand through his hands.
He was lying in a sea of waving grass. He was alone. And he had no idea what they were doing to his body, or if he would live.
When the bag flew up over her face, Lara spat blindly at whoever was doing the lifting. And she wasn’t wrong.
Andius glared at her, slowly wiping his cheek clean.
“You,” she whispered, shaking the hair out of her eyes. “I should have known.”
“Tell me where the clanblade is.” Andius straightened.
She surveyed the room around them. Over a dozen men crowded behind Andius. It was dark, cave-like, underground maybe, but there weren’t many identifying details. Most concerning, another form slumped nearby on the floor.
“Tell me,” he commanded again, kicking at her foot to draw her attention.
Between them he dangled her charms—the ones they’d discovered and taken as they searched her for the dagger. “Where is it? And you can have your charms back.”
“I don’t have it. I told you. How would I of all people know that?”
Andius sighed and tossed the charms recklessly over his shoulder like a stray handful of salt. “Guess you won’t be getting these, then. You never were easy.” He looked coldly to the man to his right, and that man pulled a bag off the head of the other form.
Nyalin. It shouldn’t have been surprising, but she caught her breath. Blood dripped from his nose, the corner of his mouth. She wasn’t sure if it was encouraging or terrifying, but there was a faint shine of white at the edges of his eyelids. Was it something like his mother’s power? They’d triggered it a few times in their practices, but it had been something he’d worked hard to avoid, not going into many details. What was triggering it now?
Andius drew a small knife from inside his crossover, crouched, and held it to Nyalin’s neck, where his heartbeat pulsed under his skin.
“Tell me, or I’ll kill him.”
Lara stared, eyes wild, darting back and forth from Nyalin to Andius and back again. In all her attempts to escape this man, she’d never expected something like this. This was certainly a worst-case scenario. And Nyalin being in danger was entirely her fault.
“I told you…” she started, her voice faltering.
“Lara?” Nyalin’s eyes had opened, and he raised his head slightly. Andius rewarded this with a swift palm strike to the temple, bouncing his head off the packed dirt beneath them.
“Stop!” Her breath was ragged, her voice a shrill scream. “Fine. Fine, damn it. I’ll tell you. But you have to let us go.”
“You’re in no position to negotiate, Lara.” Andius gave her one of his small, slick smiles. “I’m keeping you both here until after the Contests are over. I don’t know what you were planning, but you’re not going to get to try it. I’m going to win, with the clanblade or without it, and then I’ll come back and claim you.”
“You still won’t be clan leader.”
“I didn’t mean as clan leader. I simply mean as my property. You would have made a decent wife for a clan leader. Not a great one, but you have the looks for it and the people like you well enough. But as it is, you’ve caused me far too much trouble. I think you’re much better off to me… out of the way, so to speak.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“Kill you? I haven’t decided yet. Maybe I could sell you to the Mushin or simply send you to a tower in the steppes. Or better yet, a root cellar. Chaining you in a cell for a few years should do wonders to tame that wild streak of yours. But killing you would be fun.” He shook his head. “Decisions, decisions. Always so difficult. But first, you’ll decide. Does Nyalin live, or does he die? Last chance, little dragonfly. Tell me where the clanblade is.”
Her eyes locked with Nyalin’s. He shook his head subtly, but she had no idea if that meant don’t tell him or don’t let me die. Not that it mattered. She couldn’t possibly. But if Andius got his hands on the clanblade…
I’m coming, daughter! But you are buried… I can’t find you. I am near, but you are so far down.
It’s okay, Yeska. I’ll work my way out of this.
She swallowed and straightened. “Fine. I took it. And I’d take it again.”
“I knew it. Tell me where it is. Now,” he said, fingers tightening on the knife.
Somewhere far, hard to reach, but not so far it seemed implausible she might have smuggled it there… “I dropped it in the bottom of the well in the Glass District main square. Now at least let him go.”
He gaped at her. “You threw a sacred clanblade into a well? In another clan’s district?”
She jutted out her chin. “I had to do something once they started looking. C’mon, Andius. Keep me, but let him go.” This wasn’t helping her arguing position, but she didn’t have much of one at this point.
Andius laughed in her face. “Oh, no. I don’t think so. Then he’d come to the Contests and enact whatever you two have planned. I think instead I’ll lock you both in here for a long, long time, while I think on what to do with you. Maybe the rats will eat you first. Or maybe you’ll eat each other.” He smiled as if he were talking of choosing a place to have tea. “Wouldn’t that be fun. Lock them up.”
The men hauled her across the ground and down two shallow stairs, their rough grips causing all manner of injuries as her hip, backside, and wrist bounced against the floor. They sent her tumbling onto her side, her shoulder pulling hard. Nyalin fell too, disturbingly without reaction or exclamation of pain, and a heavy iron door slammed shut.
The lock clicked. The place was pitch-black except for the light cast by a single torch outside the cell door. What would happen when it burned low?
She struggled to her knees and crawled to the bars, trying to catch a glimpse of if they left her charms behind. But it was all a blur of black robe, cloak, and shadow. The men’s voices laughed and rumbled, but eventually they drifted away, and it was silent. Could she reach the charms? She tried, but she couldn’t get a sense of their different energies. They were just a little too far, if they remained at all.
The dagger was distant but still present in her mind, so she worked her basic healing spell, the magic slow to come and slow to work. But better than nothing at all. Her shoulder eased. The ache arching from her wrist toward her elbow faded. She couldn’t resist chafing against the rope bindings, but they weren’t coming off that way.
Through it all, Nyalin didn’t move. Sweet goddesses, if he’d died, here in some cellar because he agreed to help her— The glowing light had faded from his eyes. Examining him closer, it didn’t look like they’d even bothered to bind him. How hard had they beaten him? She chewed on her lip and risked nudging him with her foot.
“Nyalin?” she whispered.
His eyes flickered open. “I…” He stopped and groaned.
“Thank the Twins, you’re alive,” she whispered.
He nodded weakly. “Barely.” Something tugged at the corners of his mouth.
“Are you laughing? What could possibly be funny right now?”
“Long story.”
“Well, time is one thing we got. Listen, I’m going to try to heal you a little. What I can—they took my charms. But it’d be nice if you could get well enough to untie me.”
“Wake me up in five minutes, and I’ll try then.” He half rolled, half collapsed onto his back and shut his eyes, and she began her work.
“Is it getting better?” Lara’s voice cut through his haze. Nyalin opened his eyes and squinted at her. The golden halo was tighter around her crown now, but the dim light made it no less striking. What had she asked him? Oh, yes, the healing. He focused on his body for a moment.
“Better,” he said. “I’ll see if… I can move… in a minute.”
She snorted, even if it wasn’t really that funny. “You know, you did that thing with your eyes again. The glowy thing. That your mother did.”
“I know.”
“How do you know if you can’t see it?”
“It’s… complicated,” he said, and then started to laugh. Oh, the irony.
“Are… are you sure you’re all right?”
“Let’s just say it’s been a tough morning.”
“I know. Me too. But you look like you had it worse.”
“The Contests are probably starting now.”
“Screw the Contests,” she said. “I’ll be glad to get out of here alive.”
He had not given up hope for either of those things just yet, but he didn’t say anything. He cleared his throat instead. “When you see that light in my eyes, when the ability is triggered, I see some pretty strange things too.” That was a weak explanation. But actually coming out and saying it… she was going to think he was crazy. Probably wonder if he’d been hit a little too hard on the head.
Which maybe he had, but it wasn’t causing that prob
lem.
“Try sitting up now,” she suggested gently.
He did, although his head swam at first. He was far from healed, but he was also still planning to show up to those Contests, so there wasn’t time to lose. He gingerly got on all fours and crawled to untie her, trying to hide the grunts and gasps that came with each new pain.
She heaved a deep, satisfied sigh as her wrists came free. She rubbed where the rope had been. Getting to her feet, she paced around the outside of their small cell, dug at the floor with one foot.
“Dirt,” she said dryly. “What is this, a wine cellar? Or just a hole in the ground?”
There was no other window or door, only the heavy iron one, and her investigation of it revealed little in the way of weaknesses.
“Any magical locks?” Nyalin asked. “You know we love those.”
“No, unfortunately. Only metal ones.”
“Damn.”
“What did the emperor have to say, anyway?”
“It was a very eventful morning.”
“Which means?”
He hesitated. He didn’t want to hide anything from her at this point. It was just a matter of breaking it all to her in the right way, at the right time. This didn’t seem like the right time for anything, really. But he had no choice.
“Well, there was a lot. But the lock is real. And he admitted to putting it there, with the help of Elix and my mother.”
She gaped at him. “But why? And why didn’t they tell you?”
“That, I don’t know. But he urged me not to break it.”
She frowned. “Pyaris said the same thing. Or something along those lines.”
“Really? Maybe she can tell us more. I couldn’t get him to answer half my questions. He promised to tell me more after the Contests.”
“And now this.” She threw out her hands, then slapped them to her sides. “Now we’ll never know, cause we’re going to rot in here.”
“No, no.” He groaned as he forced himself to stand up too. “We’ll figure a way out of here.”