by Martha Carr
He licked his lips and frowned at the dry grass beneath his feet. One step at a time, L’zar. That’s all it takes. Everything else will work itself out.
Lifting his head, the Weaver Cu’ón pulled himself together before following the others toward the center of the ageless city, so thick with magic he could hardly breathe. We’re almost there. And there’s always another way.
* * *
Cheyenne didn’t have a particular destination in mind as she wound between the white stone buildings, occasionally meeting the wide-eyed, unblinking gazes of the olforím staring at her from doorways and around corners. When she broke free of the central buildings in Nor’ieth’s valley, her eyes watered so much, she could only see vague shapes and blurred colors.
“Come on.” She sniffed and wiped her eyes, trying to clear the burning itch of concentrated magic and the way it made her want to scratch her own flesh off her bones.
As she moved away from the center of the village, the tears slowly cleared, and she stopped.
Ember stood, or hovered, an inch off the ground, with Byrd, Lumil, Foltr, and Cazerel in a loose circle. The raug chief’s warriors held a private conversation farther ahead, but they cast the fae girl brief glances of approval between bouts of rumbling raug laughter.
Cheyenne headed toward them. “Looks like you were right, Grandfather.”
Foltr narrowed his eyes at her, surprised to hear the title from a halfling’s lips, especially hers, and thumped his cane against the ground with a snort. “You don’t live as long as I have only to throw empty guesses into the wind, Aranél.”
“Obviously. You knew her magic would come back.” Now that she was close enough to see through her still-watering eyes, Cheyenne eyed Ember and grimaced. “I mean, I’m glad to see you out of that machine, Em, but you look like shit.”
Byrd and Lumil burst out laughing, elbowing each other in the ribs.
Ember folded her arms and gave the halfling a haughty head-wiggle. “Such kind words, Aranél.”
“I thought we talked about you not calling me that.”
“Everyone else does.”
“You’re not everyone else, Em.” Cheyenne tried to keep a straight face, but seeing her best friend standing, even with the help of her magic and a levitation spell, made her break out in a wide grin. “Standing looks way better on you than that spider-chair.”
Ember snorted. “I’m taking that as a compliment.”
“What happened?”
Ember wrinkled her nose. “I’m pretty sure the olforím drugged me.”
“What?”
“I mean, it was for a good cause. Obviously. But still.” The fae girl leaned toward her friend and whispered, “I was tripping balls, Cheyenne. Saw my magic in the air, grabbed it, and it all came back. Then I puked.”
“Uh-huh.” Cheyenne fought back a laugh and nodded. “That explains the pale fae-pink and the dark circles under your eyes.”
“Which I wear with pride at this point, thank you very much.” Ember closed her eyes and spread her arms, basking comically in her transformation. “Oh, and by the way, I’m pretty sure my legs will heal too.”
“For real?”
“Pretty sure.” The corners of Ember’s mouth turned down in mock consideration, and she glanced at her legs. “Don’t know when, but I saw it.”
“Oh, boy.” Cheyenne ran a hand through her hair.
“You don’t believe me?”
“I totally believe you, Em. No doubt. And you have no idea how glad I am to see you with working magic again. There’s been a lot of seeing going on.” The halfling shook her head at Ember’s clueless expression and muttered, “I’ll fill you in later.”
“Huh.” Ember shrugged, then she caught sight of the nightstalkers heading toward their little gathering. L’zar was striding carelessly along behind them like he didn’t have a care in the world. “So, I’m curious.”
“Yeah?”
“What was L’zar screaming about?”
“Huh?”
“The scream, Cheyenne. And the birds. Come on, don’t tell me you didn’t hear it.” Ember plastered an over-eager grin on her face when Corian and Maleshi reached them. “Hey. Weird day, right?”
Corian eyed her briefly, then turned toward the raugs’ provision carts. This time, none of the warriors gave him any trouble about it.
Maleshi nodded slowly at Ember. “So the fae Nós Aní regained her magic. Sorry, Ember. Are you feeling okay?”
“Yes.” Ember widened her eyes and glanced at Cheyenne and the general. “Just because I look a little tired and malnourished, maybe, it doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with me.”
“Those are usually the first red flags, kid, but okay.” Maleshi shrugged. “I’ll take your word for it. Congratulations on the magical recovery.”
“Thank you.” Ember glanced at L’zar, who was taking his sweet time to join them. “Any luck with the secret drow heir?”
“Nope.” Cheyenne stuck her hands in her pockets. “We can talk about that later too. L’zar’s a little sensitive at the moment.”
Lumil snorted. “That’s a first.”
“Friends.”
The rebel magicals jumped in surprise when Yilas’ multi-toned voice came from behind them without warning.
Cheyenne nodded at him with a tight smile. “You’re talking to us, right?”
The olforím smiled and dipped his head, his pale eyes moving slowly from one face to the next. “We invite you to stay with us through the night. There is food, shelter, and plenty of room for everyone.”
Byrd nodded. “Yeah, the food’s not half bad.”
Lumil snorted. “Like you even tasted it.”
“Hey, I can eat fast and enjoy it at the same time, okay? Get off my ass.”
Maleshi stared at the goblins until they noticed and elbowed each other into silence again. “Thank you, Yilas. We’ll have to discuss it before we let you know one way or the other.”
“Of course.” The olforím bowed low, his flowing robes draping down off his slender frame until the thin fabric brushed against his forehead. Then he straightened. “What we have here is yours, should it please you to share it with us.”
Maleshi nodded at him, then turned stiffly toward Corian. He stood empty-handed behind the supply carts and shrugged. “It’s getting pretty late, isn’t it?”
“Depends on your definition of late.” The general looked at the sky, which glowed with the orange and pink hues of sunset, even in this hidden plane. “I guess that’s a decent qualifier.”
Cheyenne turned around to stare across the valley. “Wait, how long were we on that mountain? Or I guess just me.”
“Long enough, apparently.” Maleshi readjusted the collar of her military jacket and took a deep breath. “There are pros and cons to staying or leaving now, I suppose.”
“Sure. I vote for leaving.” Cheyenne started to nod toward the place where they’d entered Nor’ieth, then stopped. “However we end up doing that.”
“We can’t leave.” L’zar approached their group looking calm enough, but his eyes darted away from Cheyenne’s face and back again. “Not yet.”
“Something else you’re trying to get out of this visit and failed to tell any of us?”
“We need more, Cheyenne.”
“There is no more.” She swept her arm at the valley. “Neros doesn’t want anything to do with the Crown or us. Neither do the olforím. We have to move on and look somewhere else. Not to mention that I have a life back home.” Neros might know what I am, but I doubt shouting it across the valley is gonna help us.
“Yeah, me too.” Ember nodded. “I mean, I can’t say I’m anywhere near as busy as Cheyenne, but I definitely have things.”
“Things.” Corian folded his arms.
“Yeah. Stuff that doesn’t have anything to do with us being here.”
“Maleshi’s in the same boat.” Cheyenne raised her eyebrows at the general. “Right?”
“You have a
point.”
“No.” L’zar shook his head but couldn’t look any of them in the eyes. “There’s more. We just have to find it.”
“What’s there to find? We didn’t get what we came here for, which is fine. We’ll find another way. At least we got a clear answer from someone for once. Neros refused to step foot out of Nor’ieth, and he doesn’t want anything to do with the Crown or Hangivol or anywhere else, so for any of your purposes, L’zar, he’s useless.”
An earsplitting screech shattered the air in the peaceful valley. Lumil and Byrd jumped and ducked at the sound. Cazerel and his raug warriors broke off from their own conversation to turn in surprise, wondering at the sound.
Another screech and a high-pitched, trembling bellow echoed from the stone ridge on the far side of Nor’ieth, then another and another. The crack and whip of thick fabric fluttering through the air made Cheyenne spin with a frown. Not even a little windy right now.
The ridge on the far side of the valley was moving.
“What the hell are those?” Ember whispered.
“I don’t have a guess, Em.”
Chapter Forty-Six
No way does Ambar’ogúl have dragons too.
But they weren’t dragons. Cheyenne recognized that a second later when dozens of the massive, glowing blue beasts took to the skies over Nor’ieth and headed toward the party. Their wings cut effortlessly through the air in slow waves as the creatures swooped and dove and glided down from the top of the white stone ridge.
The two fastest cut a straight path to L’zar and his rebels, casting massive shadows over the glistening city. A small smile spread across Yilas’ thin, pale lips.
Ember folded her arms and gazed at the creatures filling the sky and blocking out at least half the sunlight. “Nobody mentioned giant glowing flying stingrays.”
Cheyenne snorted, and the fae girl shot her friend a glance. “Took the words right out of my mouth, Em.”
“The luré,” Yilas said in his multiple ringing tones. His long three-fingered hand stretched out to gesture toward the creatures. “Aut Na’mor is fond of them, and they of him.”
“Endaru’s balls.” Byrd clapped a hand to his bald head and rubbed it vigorously.
L’zar’s eyes widened at the largest, brightest-glowing luré swooping across the valley. It headed right for their group, unaffected by the other creatures diving and spinning around it. “A mount fit for a drow.”
“Are you serious?” Cheyenne shot her father an exasperated stare, but he ignored her. Didn’t think we’d have to fight O’gúl wildlife. She summoned a crackling orb of black drow energy in one hand, her face illuminated by the purple sparks at its core, and turned to face the creature heading toward them. When she focused on it again, she cocked her head and snuffed out her magic. “Oh. Seriously?”
Neros stood on its back, arms hanging casually by his sides as his pale, flowing robes and bone-white hair whipped around his body and head. The luré slowed to a gentle glide, then hovered four feet above the ground. Its massive wings undulated like ocean waves. Two huge black eyes glistened at the front of the creature’s wide, flat body as it glanced from one visiting magical to the next.
The blue light glowing in the luré’s eyes flashed behind Neros’ own as Cheyenne’s cousin leaped from the creature’s back. His bare feet thumped softly onto the pale grass, and he ran a hand along the luré’s sleek body before stepping away from it to join the other magicals, who were staring at him in awe.
The luré gave something between a snort and a moaning call but stayed where its rider had left it.
Neros’ pale gaze settled on Cheyenne, his face expressionless as he stepped toward her. “Cheyenne.”
“Here we go.” She shot Ember a sidelong glance. “What’s up, Neros?”
“We could not let you leave without saying goodbye.”
Ember leaned toward the halfling and muttered, “Please tell me you’re not going all Game of Thrones on us with your cousin.”
Cheyenne snorted. “If I didn’t get that vibe from him too, that’d probably be funnier.” She met Neros’ unblinking gaze as he moved slowly toward her and folded her arms. It’s weird enough that he’s bordering on obsession now, and he doesn’t even care that we’re related.
“Neros.” L’zar stepped into his nephew’s path, cutting the pale drow off from reaching Cheyenne. “If you’ve seen enough about me in the Weave, nephew, you’ll know I don’t beg. This is as close as I’m ever going to get.”
The pale drow’s pale eyes slid slowly from Cheyenne’s face to her father’s. “No, it is not.”
L’zar swallowed. “Come with us. Everything we need lies within you.” The drow thief’s mask of composure fractured when he extended his hand, his face contorting like he was about to be physically sick when he added, “Please.”
“No.”
That one word made L’zar’s entire body tremble as if it were a spell instead of a refusal.
“You have to come with us,” the drow thief snarled. “It’s your duty. Four hundred years in Nor’ieth is enough for you to have seen that.”
“L’zar, he’s not coming.” Cheyenne stepped toward them, forcing herself not to stare at the sparking purple light bursting from her father’s fingers. He’s gonna lose it, and then we’ll all be in deep shit. “We both asked, and he still said no.”
“I don’t care.” Snarling, L’zar lunged toward his nephew and grabbed Neros roughly by the shoulder. “If you can’t see it, I’ll make you see!”
“Hey, cut it out!” Cheyenne tried to wrench her father’s hand off Neros’ shoulder, and he spun toward her with a crazed hiss. “We didn’t come here to kidnap anyone, L’zar. You can’t take him against his will.”
The drow thief’s eyes flashed golden as he snarled at her and jerked Neros forward. “Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do, Cheyenne. I’m the only—”
Neros’ hand moved too quickly for anyone to see, despite the rest of him standing perfectly still. He slapped L’zar’s firm grip off his shoulder, and the drow thief stumbled sideways under the force of it. As her father stared in disbelief at his hand, Cheyenne backed away. Staying out of this one.
“That’s how you want to do this?” L’zar whirled toward his nephew and grinned. “Fine.”
Corian stepped forward and stopped. “L’zar, don’t.”
The drow thief ignored the warning as his hand shot toward Neros’ face. Neros stepped swiftly aside to avoid the blow and stared at L’zar impassively.
“I will have what I want,” L’zar roared. “Even if I have to take it!”
“Stop!” Cheyenne’s shout went unheard beneath the crackle of black sparks bursting from L’zar’s hand.
Neros flicked his hand aside and sent L’zar’s attack sailing up and over the stone ridge beside them.
L’zar snarled and let off another attack. His nephew stepped calmly out of the way and again deflected the burst of magic. It raced into the sky instead and disappeared with a pop. Again and again, the drow thief attacked his nephew, launching spells and blows in a blur of dark-gray. Neros moved fluidly and avoided every burst of magic, stepping calmly away and lifting his arms only to block L’zar’s speedy movement over and over.
Maleshi cleared her throat and looked at Corian. “Should we do something about this?”
He shook his head. “I’m not getting involved in that.”
L’zar snarled and fought like a starving, rabid animal but didn’t once hit his target. Spit flew from his lips as black and purple drow magic flew from his hands, filling the sky with dark light.
Then Neros took one step forward and a flash of brilliant white shot from his hand. He struck L’zar in the shoulder and sent his mad uncle flying back across the grass.
The drow thief hissed and skidded to a stop on his side a foot away from Cazerel’s warriors. A dark stain of blood grew quickly on his shoulder.
“Jesus.” Cheyenne stepped toward him, but Corian’s fingers arou
nd her upper arm made her stop.
“Just let it play out, kid.”
“They’re gonna end up killing each other.”
“Just wait.”
Cheyenne gritted her teeth and stared at her father, still lying on the ground. I’m trying to help him. None of this turned out the way we thought.
L’zar clamped his other hand on the wound, breathing heavily and glaring at his nephew. He grimaced and tightened his grip, then a soft golden light bloomed beneath his trembling hand. The blood on his palm and staining his shirt didn’t fizzle into the air the way Neros’ had, but the bleeding stopped when the golden glow on his shoulder faded.
He wrenched his clenched fist away from the healed wound and closed his eyes with a sigh, then looked at his nephew and grinned. “Okay.”
“What?” Cheyenne glanced between them.
“That settles it, then.” L’zar pushed to his feet. “You’ve shown me what I need to see, Neros. You’ll live out your abnormally long life doing absolutely nothing, and we’ll stay out of it.”
Ember patted her cheek. “Did I miss something?”
Cheyenne turned toward Corian and Maleshi, but the nightstalkers looked as surprised as she was. Was all that an act?
L’zar strolled casually toward them and nodded. “We can go now.”
“What are you doing?” Corian muttered.
“Getting my answer, vae shra’ni. And now I have it.”
The nightstalker frowned at the drow thief.
Neros headed for Cheyenne, staring at her with pale, unblinking eyes. “Which of these magicals journeyed into Nor’ieth with you from the other side, cousin?”
She blinked quickly and tried to wrap her head around what had happened. “Right. Everyone but the raugs.”
“I see.” Neros darted forward in a white blur and pulled Cheyenne into his arms for a weirdly tight hug.
“Whoa, whoa.” She struggled but couldn’t get him to let go. “Hey, we talked about personal space.”