I let the song end.
With a pop, the demons dissolved into piles of stinking, wet ash.
I dropped to my knees, shaken by what I had done. By what I was becoming. Why? Why couldn’t I control it?
“Hey, it’s okay.” Michel knelt in front of me, one hand stretched out as if to touch me, but he held back.
I stared at the black sand. Horror wrapped thorny claws around my heart. Tears slid down my cheeks. This was impossible. I was going to kill us all. The control I’d fought so hard for was non-existent. My body shook. We were going to die out here, and I was the one who would kill us.
“How is this possible?” Aeron asked, his tone full of awe and worry.
I peered around Michel and froze. The area surrounding the dead demons held hints of life. Fuchsia desert blooms and greenery poked through honey colored sand, an oasis of untainted desert.
Could I cleanse all the Bonelands? No. This was a fluke. An accident. It would be impossible to replicate this feat.
“I can’t do this.” I wrapped my arms around my knees.
Aeron gently ruffled my hair. “You did good, imp. You pulled back before you hurt us.”
“But—”
“I believe in you.” Aeron’s words were a balm for my battered sense of self. He was right. I hadn’t lost complete control. I’d been able to regain the hold on my magic before I hurt anyone but the demons. A shudder ran over me. I’d enjoyed killing them. They might be foul creatures, unnatural in their existence, but I had tried to torture them. I was a healer not a killer.
Michel stood, hands on his hips as he surveyed the area. “Why were they out here?”
Aeron held up a shovel. “It looks like they were digging for something.”
“The Heart?” Michel poked through a pile of supplies. “Shoves, pickaxes, food, and firewood, too. Maybe they were on to something.”
Thud-thud.
“This isn’t the right place,” I whispered. “The Heart isn’t here.”
Aeron pushed a shovel into the sand. “Are you sure? We should at least look at where they’ve been digging. Maybe they have a map or a clue.”
“It’s not here.” I pressed my hand against my chest.
“I believe her.” Michel stepped between us. “We’ll take their supplies and keep going south.”
Aeron threw his hands up in the air. “Fine.”
“We’ll find it. I know we will.” Michel held out a hand to me.
I stared at it for a long moment before accepting his help up. “Maybe.”
Or maybe we’d die, wandering in circles, looking for something that was hopelessly lost. I helped gather the supplies and load them on the horses, my heart heavy with regret and despair.
“I have to find the Heart,” I whispered. “I have to.”
24
Aeron watched Gravin from across the campfire. Why couldn’t Gravin leave Addie alone? Aeron pressed his palms into his eyes, his thoughts scrambled by the weight of his exhaustion.
Michel scooped beans from the pot into a bowl and handed it to Aeron. “What’s wrong?”
Michel, not Gravin. Ris, not Addie.
Aeron took the bowl and stared into the sloppy brown mess, trying to collect his wits. Light, the taint was blurring reality, blending past and present until Aeron couldn’t tell what was real and what wasn’t.
“Ris,” Michel called, “the food is done.”
She sat up and blinked groggily. “Already?”
“Did you get any sleep?” Michel handed her a bowl.
“Not much,” she replied. “It was too hot.”
Hot and miserable. Aeron couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a decent amount of sleep. Between the constant wind, the relentless sun, and the hallucinations, there was no such thing as rest. His body felt heavy and his thoughts sluggish.
The last horse had died two days past. It had been cruel to bring their horses into the Bonelands. It had been a death sentence.
Magic whispered in the air. Sweet and soulful. Water and fire. An intricate mixture that spelled trouble for the pair if they didn’t control it. But, he was tired. So tired. He no longer had the will to care. Except it meant death for one or both if they didn’t stop, and he couldn’t let Ris die.
He glanced up, an admonishment ready, but the words died unspoken.
Gravin stared into Addie’s eyes, with a hungry, hard look on his face.
Anger burned in Aeron’s veins. How dare he? He would never let Gravin have his sister. He was on his feet and moving before he registered what he was doing. He grabbed Gravin by his collar and hauled him away from Addie.
Aeron pulled Gravin close and shook him with each word he spoke. “Leave. Her. Alone.”
Gravin twisted from Aeron’s grip. “What in the Void has gotten into you?”
“Let Michel go.” Addie tried to step in between them, her hands resting on each of their chests.
“Don’t you understand that he’s going to kill you, Addie?” Aeron kicked at the sand, sending it spraying across the fire. “Why do you always run back to him? No matter what I do or say, you just can’t stay away from him. Why?”
Addie grabbed his face between her hands. “Look closer, fox-face.”
Aeron blinked.
Fox-face.
Ris.
Addie never called him by that name.
Only Ris.
Light, what was he doing?
He stumbled back, his thoughts a jumbled mess. He rubbed at his eyes, willing his mind back to the present. It felt like he was drowning in the ocean, tossed and turned by waves, not knowing which way was up or down. Light, there was no chance of saving himself from the dizzying, relentless hallucinations.
“Hey, look at me.” Ris laid a hand on his cheek and leaned closer. “It’s okay.”
“It’s not okay.” Michel hauled Ris away. “How much longer before he tries to kill me? Or hurt you?”
Ris shook Michel off. “Stop it. You’re not helping.”
“Neither are you.” Michel stomped back to the campfire and picked up his bowl. “Demon’s balls, did you have to kick sand in the food?”
Aeron grabbed his own bowl of beans and sat as far away as he could without leaving the camp. “Why do you keep playing with fire, Ris?”
“What are you talking about?” Ris sat next to him.
“Your magic. You and Michel. You need to stop tempting fate.” Aeron took a bite, grimacing at the grit.
“I ….” Ris stared into her bowl, her face twisted into a frown. “I didn’t even realize I was doing it. We shouldn’t have come here. I should’ve listened to you.”
“We can go back,” Aeron said quietly. “It’s not too late.”
“Isn’t it?” The look of despair on Ris’s face tugged at his heart.
He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “We’ll—”
“Hey, fox-face.” The edge in Michel’s voice was sharp enough to cut steel. “Did you enjoy it when your sister’s killers died?”
Aeron froze. “What did you say?”
“There were rumors.” Michel offered a sly smile. “You killed them, didn’t you?”
Aeron swallowed. How did he know?
“Stop it, Michel.” Ris sounded as weary as Aeron felt.
Aeron stared at the sand, avoiding Michel’s gaze. “They were just rumors.”
They weren’t. It had all been true. Not that Michel needed to know that.
“I was there, you know.” Michel’s voice barely carried over the wind, but it made Aeron freeze. “The night you came back.”
“So what?” Aeron’s hands curled into fists. “I snuck out for one last hurrah before I gave up my life for the Lady.”
“Is that what you call it?” Michel snorted. “Three men cut up exactly the same way as your sister had been.”
“That’s enough, Michel.” Ris’s voice held a note of pity.
Aeron couldn
’t stand it. He whirled around to confront Michel and stopped. Gravin leered at him in Michel’s stead. Aeron rubbed his eyes.
“You can’t lie forever.” Michel’s voice came from Gravin’s face.
Light, it was getting bad. Aeron had no idea how to stop it. How to change what was happening. The taint twisted the past and the present together.
“Tell the truth, Aeron—”
Aeron’s hands curled into fists. “I’m not the only one with secrets. Keep it up, Michel, and I’ll tell Ris all about you.”
“She already knows everything there is to know about me.” Michel dumped sand on the fire, smothering it. “This is pointless. We should get moving.”
Aeron agreed. It was pointless. Everything about being in the Bonelands was pointless. They would never find the Heart. They would end up killing each other first.
The heat that had baked them all day turned chill as the sun sank closer to the horizon.
Aeron shivered. The exhaustion and the constant extremes in temperature made his body hurt. “Shouldn’t we have reached the city by now? Or are we just wandering in circles?”
“Do you want to lead?” Michel sneered. “A thief like you ought to be able to sniff out treasure.”
“Some treasure,” Aeron scoffed. “The Heart is probably as tainted as everything else in this Light-forsaken place.”
“No, it can’t be.” Ris shook her head. “We have to find it before he does.”
“He, who? The Darkness?” Aeron closed his eyes. “Lady preserve us. I’m leaving.”
“You can’t,” Ris pleaded. “I need your help.”
Aeron turned northward. Pain bloomed through the bond and shudders wracked his body. He gripped his head, fighting Ris’s command.
Stay with me and help me find the Heart.
The command rippled through the bond and ripped through his body until he could no longer stand. He landed in the sand with a groan. His body throbbing from the compulsion to stay with Ris.
“Demon’s balls, imp, let me go.”
“I can’t,” she whispered as she knelt next to him. “I can’t do this by myself.”
“You’re asking the impossible, and it’s going to kill us.” Aeron curled around himself. “Please, Ris, let’s go back. Before we end up dead.”
Ris pressed a hand to her heart. “I want to, but… I can’t.”
“Can’t?” Aeron sat up and shook her by the shoulders. “What do you mean, you can’t? Just command us to go back.”
Michel grabbed Aeron by the collar and hauled him to his feet. “Leave her alone. If she says she can’t, then she can’t.”
“Light, don’t you hear yourself, Michel? Or are you too far gone?”
“I’m her Sword.” Michel pushed Aeron away from Ris. “I fight where she commands me. She commanded me to find the Heart and stay with her. If that means fighting you so we can find the Heart, then I will.”
“Fine.” Aeron drew one of his daggers. “If that’s what it will take to get you both to see reason.”
He lunged, swiping at Michel.
Michel dodged and drew his rapier.
The crack of a pistol startled Aeron, and he glanced around, looking for who had fired.
Ris stood with her pistol aimed toward the sky, barely visible in the fading twilight. “Stop it.”
“You won’t shoot us, imp.” Aeron turned back to Michel.
Sand sprayed in the air when Ris fired a shot in between them. “I will.”
“Demon’s balls.” Aeron sheathed his dagger. It was a wonder she hadn’t hit either of them. “You’re going to get us killed.”
Ris looked at her feet. “I know.”
“Then why are you doing this?” Anger flared through Aeron. Was his life so worthless to her? She was like a sister to him, so why was she willing to sacrifice him for the Heart?
Ris shrugged. “I don’t know.”
Aeron threw his hands in the air. “We’ve come all this way, and you don’t know why?”
“I have to find the Heart.” She grabbed the sides of her head and sank into the sand, rocking in place. “I have to. Have to. Have to.”
Michel knelt next to her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. Their magic danced together, twisting and twirling, filling the air with trumpets and violins.
Aeron opened his mouth to say something but stopped himself as Ris’s rocking slowed. She wrapped her arms around Michel and buried her face in his chest. The words she’d been repeating stopped. After a few moments, their magic untangled, but Ris still held onto Michel, her face pressed against him.
“We can’t leave,” Michel said, “not until we find the Heart. It will drive her mad if we do.”
Aeron swallowed the lump in his throat. He knew how badly the taint was affecting him. He hadn’t realized how badly it was affecting Ris. “If we leave—”
“It won’t matter.” Michel closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “The only way to end this is to find the Heart. We can’t go back.”
“Because she commanded us.” Aeron’s hands tightened into fists.
Michel kissed the top of Ris’s head. “I don’t know if it’s the Darkness that’s driving her, or something else, but whatever it is, if we leave before we have the Heart, it will break her.”
Void take it, he had to stay with her even if it led to death and madness.
He pressed his hands into his eyes.
He’d left Addie alone. Not for long. Only long enough to arrange for a healer and transport. But it had been long enough. Just enough time for Gravin to torture and kill her.
Aeron couldn’t let the same thing happen to Ris. He couldn’t leave her alone to face whatever had driven her into the Bonelands. He would never again leave someone he cared about behind to face death alone.
“Then we’d better get going.” Aeron offered a hand to Michel. “Truce?”
A muscle in Michel’s jaw twitched, but he took Aeron’s hand. “Truce.”
25
Night spread above Bran in a twinkling expanse as he flew high above the Bonelands. He wished he could escape the bonds of earth and float free into the beyond. Let his body go and send his spirit to wander between the stars.
Cre ran below, his grey fur standing out against the shifting black sand. Somehow, he’d caught up. He stopped and sat, a signal for Bran to descend.
Reluctantly, Bran drifted slowly to the ground as the air around Cre shimmered, and with a flash of light, he changed from a wolf to a man. He leaned forward, hands on his knees, and shoulders hunched.
Bran changed as well, feathers exchanged for flesh. “Why are you here?”
Cre raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
“You’re still injured. You’ll only slow me down.”
“I need sleep. So do you.” Cre ran a hand through his disheveled curls.
“I need to get to Ris.”
Yes. Take the Heart. Kill her.
The command shuddered through Bran, its icy tentacles gripping his heart in thorny vines.
“We’ve been going for ten hours straight,” Cre said. “I can’t go any further, and neither can you.”
Cre had a point. His arms and shoulders burned with fatigue. A quick rest and he could move on.
Bran threw his hands in the air. “Fine. You sleep, and I’ll take first watch.”
Cre shifted back into his wolf form and curled into a hollow of sand and broken black glass.
You cannot escape, my sweet paladin.
The Bonelands faded away as fog filled Bran’s vision. He fought against the currents that dragged him Between. Darkness and Light swirled around his ankles in a never-ending dance of mist.
What was happening? How had he gotten Between?
Kill him.
The anger, hurt and frustration that had plagued Bran from the moment he’d heard of Ris’s capture replayed in Bran’s mind. Visions of Ris in the hands of demons, in t
he hands of War and Plague. At the heart of the visions, seeds of doubt. The delays. The interference. All of it was Cre’s fault.
Bran fought against the irrational surge of hatred. This wasn’t him. He didn’t hate Cre.
Did he?
The garden of discord in Bran’s mind grew as the Darkness sowed more of its rotten seeds in his soul. A patient gardener waiting for the right moment to pluck ripe fruit.
Held in the confines of Bran’s mind, visions of Ris in the hands of Tolbert flashed. Her screams of pain squeezed his heart. She should have never gone through that horror. It had been Cre that had prevented him from rescuing Ris. Cre’s visions had determined their path.
Bran flailed against the binding, against the twisted visions, but to no avail. The urge to kill Cre grew until Bran could no longer ignore it. The restraints around him vanished, and Bran returned from Between. He glared at his lifelong friend who slept in the sand, oblivious to Bran’s turmoil.
He must die for what he’s done.
Bran’s magic crescendoed, a warped song built from air and Darkness. He stepped toward the sleeping wolf, a ball of black and golden flame writhing in his palm.
Cre opened his eyes as Bran’s hand descended. He dodged, his teeth snapping closed on Bran’s wrist.
Kill him.
The command whipped across Bran’s soul like a cat-o’-nine-tails, shredding his sense of self as it landed. Shadow and wind surrounded him, a flurry of dissonant notes that shrieked with hunger and rage.
Cre released Bran’s wrist. Heavy kettle drums beat a war song as Cre returned to his human form. “Have you gone insane?”
Bran ignored the question.
Kill.
The desire to follow the command raged through Bran, making his mouth water. The need to feed on Cre’s soul, to taste his blood, beat through him in time with his pulse. He shaped a blade of wind and shadow, ready to cut Cre’s heart out. He would have to be fast on his feet. Cre was a master at defense.
Feint left and lunge. Block Cre’s stone covered fist. Dodge the follow-up swing.
Bran’s song was a discordant jangle of notes. One part of his magic wanted to fly free while the other lusted for something darker. Woodwinds danced and drifted on the breeze but the shadow magic hungered for blood. Sharp-toothed notes meant for slicing and rending flesh. The two magics fought each other for dominance, and it took all of Bran’s concentration to mold them together. To use them to fight.
A Sea of Broken Glass Page 23