Cre ran below, his paws churning over the sand. Something caught Bran’s attention, sparkling with Ris’s magic. Cre skidded to a stop. Even high in the air, Bran saw that Cre’s tongue lolled from his mouth and his sides heaved.
Bran dove, and settled on grass, shifting into his human form. He knelt next to Cre and gently touched budding flowers that spread like a carpet in a circle around them. An oasis of life in a barren wasteland, the taint held in check by a fine mesh of water and fire magic.
“Ris did this,” Cre murmured in awe, his finger trailing over the grass. “How close are we?”
“Closer, but I can’t pinpoint how far away she still is.” Bran rolled his head on his neck. Flying for so long left an aching knot between his shoulder blades. “Do you need a rest? You’re a mess.”
Cre looked at his hands and feet, covered in bloody scratches and cuts from running long distances through the broken glass and sand that covered the land. “I’ll be fine. We’d better get moving.” He shifted back into a wolf, then sped across the desert, pausing now and then to sniff the ground.
Bran took a deep breath and pulled on his magic, sending the notes into his bones. The song shivered through him and pushed his form from man to raven. With a flap of his wings, he lifted into the air.
More days of flying. Of searching. They passed in a blur of black as Bran rode the wind. Day bled into night and back into day. Bran didn’t know how much time passed before he spotted three familiar figures below.
Ris! He’d finally caught up to her.
Bran settled on the sand and shifted. He couldn’t contain the smile on his face or the lift in his chest when she ran to meet him. He wrapped her in a hug, half-afraid that this was an illusion and he was still trapped in Between.
“You’re here,” Ris whispered.
“You’re alive.” Bran said at the same time.
He scanned her face, noting the hollowness of her cheeks and the deep shadows that lined her eyes. He held her tight, worried that if he let her go, she would disappear like smoke in the wind.
“I am so sorry, little lark. I’ve failed you in every way possible.”
Ris leaned back, her lips pressed into a tight line. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“I let them find you.” Bran stepped away from her. “I let Tolbert hurt you.”
Ris closed her eyes as if reliving something painful. Bran looked at his feet. He knew what it was that haunted her and would do anything to take the hurt away.
A furrow appeared between her eyebrows. “I need your help.”
“What were you thinking coming here?” Bran wanted to shake her and hug her at the same time.
“We’re close,” she whispered.
Worry lodged itself next to his heart. A feverish glint had flashed in her eyes as she spoke.
“Close to what?” he asked.
Cre joined them and pulled Ris into a bear hug. “Good to see you alive and well. Don’t mind Bran, he’s been out of sorts.”
Bran looked away. Out of sorts? He sighed. Possessed by the Darkness. Obsessed. Driven. Out of sorts was a mild explanation for what he’d been through.
Ris stepped back, a stubborn set to her chin. “We’ve found the Heart.”
“What!?” Shock coursed through Bran. How was it possible?
“The Lady guided me.”
Her words were a punch to his chest. “Are you mad?” Bran turned to Michel and Aeron. “You’re letting her do this?”
“Letting me?” Ris’ voice took on a hard edge. “I’m a grown woman, Bran. I make my own decisions.”
He opened his mouth to reply, then stopped and looked at Ris. Really looked at her. Took in the changes. A woman stood defiantly in the place of the baby he had protected since birth. She’d been a woman for a while, but he hadn’t accepted that fact. His little lark had spread her wings and flown from the nest. As much as he might still wish to shelter her, she no longer needed it. A strange sensation spread through him. Worry interlaced with pride.
Could he do this? Could he let her choose her own path?
“You’re right. I’m sorry.” Bran took a shuddering breath, his fingers curling and uncurling. “A lot has happened since the last time I saw you.”
Ris nodded. Surrounded by a barren wasteland, she launched into a story that both surprised and appalled him. She’d become so strong. So independent. A father’s pride swelled in his chest. She’d overcome so many horrible things.
Her voice grew quiet, and she looked at her feet for a long moment. “Aris is dead.”
Bran felt like someone had wrenched the earth out from under his feet. “How?”
Ris squeezed her eyes shut. “I killed her.”
Keen as a knife, those three words stabbed into his heart. He’d mourned Aris’s loss when she became Ruin, but always, always in the back of his mind had been the hope that she might someday be cleansed of the taint. That his wife might return to him.
Ris had stolen that hope.
Bran stumbled back and pressed a hand to his heart, ignoring the concerned looks from his friends. He tuned out their conversation, focusing instead on his anguish.
Hadn’t he hunted Ruin? Pursued her with the intent to destroy her? Why was it so hard to accept Ris as the hand that ended Ruin’s torment?
It should have been him that killed her. It was his fault that Aris had become Ruin in the first place. If he’d only stopped her when he realized she was headed into the Bonelands.
Bran’s eyes unfocused as memories avalanched through him. Hours spent in the Summer Gardens. Stolen kisses and passion filled nights. Tender glances. Dreams. Dreams of children and a future that never came to be.
Memories he’d buried when Ruin stood before him and proclaimed that she belonged to the Darkness. Memories that burned and ached. Memories that had shredded his soul and still caused him to bleed centuries later.
Tears streamed down his cheeks as his world shattered. Why? Why did everyone he love end up dead?
“Bran?”
A soft hand cupped his cheek. He turned away, unwilling to meet her eyes. To show the depth of his pain.
“Look at me.”
He shook his head.
“I’m sorry,” Ris whispered.
Anger roared through him. Sorry? Words couldn’t change facts. She’d killed his wife. Even if it was in self-defense. Even if he would have done the same thing. An apology couldn’t make amends for that. He stumbled backward. Away from Ris. He didn’t want to hurt her. Not after everything he’d done to find her again.
“Easy, Bran.” Cre grabbed him and held him upright.
Bran pushed Cre away. “Why are we even here?”
“Ris needs your help. Remember?” Cre held his hands up in a placating gesture that made Bran see red.
“Demon’s balls.” Bran threw his hands up in the air and turned away. “For once, just leave me alone.”
Cre grabbed Bran by the collar and drew him close, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. “I know Aris’s death is a shock, but we need you. Now.” He gave Bran a shake.
Michel and Aeron pulled Cre off Bran.
“This isn’t helping.” Michel stood between the two, one hand on each of their chests.
Bran straightened his shirt, glaring at all of them. Cre’s words were a low blow. An uneasy feeling settled over Bran. He needed to see the Heart. “You said you’d found it? Are you sure?”
Aeron pointed to a chunk of black glass the size of a large dog. Deep inside a light pulsed.
“We’ve tried to break through to get to it,” Ris said, “but progress has been slow.”
Bran stumbled forward, his eyes fixed on the light. Magic buzzed along the bond, nagging at him. He pushed it away. “How do we get to it?”
Cre laid a hand on the glass and kettle drums thrummed in the air. “It will take all of us to break it loose.”
Pressure built inside Bran’s chest. What was wrong wi
th him? Maybe he hadn’t fully recovered from being possessed by the Darkness.
Cre gave him a questioning look. “Are you okay?”
Bran ignored him and turned to Ris. “Do you honestly think the Heart will help you restore the balance?” He couldn’t contain the note of disdain that crept into his words.
“I have to try.” Ris held out a hand to him. “Please, help me.”
Bran stared at her for a long moment before he took her hand. The five of them circled the glass boulder, each laying one hand on it and placing the other hand on the shoulder of the person next to them. Fire. Water. Earth. Air. They wove together in a symphony so complex that tears formed in Bran’s eyes. He’d never felt or heard anything so beautiful.
Flames of blue, green, orange, and gold danced, braiding together until they meshed seamlessly. The air shivered with power, electric and hungry. Thunder rolled through the cloudless sky, booming through Bran’s bones and shaking him to the core. Lightning split the air and danced across the desert.
The music built, a song felt deep in his soul. It wrapped around them and enveloped the boulder. Intricate harmonies collided and entwined. Melded into something new.
The hair on Bran’s arms stood on end as static built around the glass-encased Heart. He tensed and closed his eyes, knowing what was coming.
A flash seared his vision and lightning licked his skin. For a split-second, he became weightless as his body floated in the air. He landed on his back, pain spearing through his insides. He rolled to his feet and blinked. Sparkling bits of dust fell like rain. A pulsing crystal, the size of his fist, lay in the sand, finally free from its confinement.
Ris started forward, her hand stretched toward the Heart.
“Wait.” Bran grabbed her wrist to stop her.
“I have to do this.” Her eyes pleaded with him to understand, but he couldn’t. He wouldn’t risk it.
“It will kill you.” Bran attempted to pull her further away from the Heart.
“Keep your hands off of her.” Michel pushed between Bran and Ris.
Bran gave Michel a startled look. What had gotten into him?
Aeron grabbed Michel by the shoulders and hauled him to the side. “It’s okay. Ris can handle this.”
Ris rubbed at her wrist. “It won’t kill me. I promise.”
“You don’t know that.” Bran crossed his arms.
“I do. The Lady will show me what is needed.”
“It will kill you.”
Ris inched closer to the Heart, but Bran stepped in her way. “When did you lose all faith and hope?” she asked.
When had he lost faith?
Hope?
Was it the moment the Darkness touched his heart? Or the day Aris revealed herself as Ruin? Did the hope fade with every friend, every loved one he outlived? Had he ever truly had faith?
Bran stared at his feet. “Do you think what you want to do is possible?”
“Yes,” Ris said. “I’m tired of living in fear of what might be. I’d rather face it head on than bury my head in the sand and wait for the inevitable.”
“It’s not inevitable,” Bran whispered.
“Isn’t it?” Ris gave him a pained smile. “I’m the last vessel. The last chance to restore the balance. This world is on borrowed time. I can do this, but I need your help.”
The old oaths burned through his veins reminding him of what he was, who he was. A Lord of Light. Protector of the innocent. Of the Light. Of the world.
Bran opened his mouth to agree to Ris’s terms, but hidden, thorny vines of Darkness snaked through his mind. The steel trap closed icy jaws around him. He fought, struggled to warn Cre and to remain in control.
Kill her, the Darkness ordered.
Cre took a step toward him, one hand outstretched. A look of panic and realization flashed across his face.
Bran wanted to scream in frustration. Cre was too far away. He wouldn’t be able to keep his promise to destroy Bran before he hurt Ris.
Time slowed as the web of shadows tightened around Bran. He shook with the effort of holding it at bay.
Ris needed him. The Lady’s plea echoed in his mind. Ris needed her air magic unsealed. Only a Lord of Light could do it. He could do one last thing to protect Ris before the Darkness claimed him.
Take the Heart.
Pain ricocheted through Bran as he held the Darkness in check. He pressed his hands to his head and dropped to his knees. No. No. No. He wouldn’t let this happen. He ripped his magic away from the Darkness’s hold and shaped it into a key.
Notes piled on notes to form a golden song that fit into the lock that sealed off Ris’s magic. With a twist, he attempted to open the lock as the Darkness flayed his mind. The locked turned, but didn’t fully release.
Shadows filled him. Consumed him. Shaped him. Until there was nothing left but Darkness.
Kill her.
Bran rose to his feet. Shadows filmed his vision. Hate. Anger. Hunger. They filled him. Rode him. Demanded action.
Kill her.
His target narrowed her eyes. Darkness wove through his fingers. Shadow and air became a weapon to destroy the world and the woman that defied him. He spread his arms wide and created a storm. Wind whipped across the tainted lands, gathered by his call. It lifted him off the ground. A whirlwind of shadow and death.
His target’s eyes widened. Fear. He inhaled the intoxicating scent of it. He raised a hand and unleashed the storm, cutting her off from the Heart and the pitiful men sworn to protect her.
Kill her and take the Heart.
31
My creation, so full of life and untested possibilities. I longed to touch it. To experience it for myself. To feel what it is to be alive. My hubris led to my downfall. I pray that there will come a day when I can restore what I destroyed.
~Excerpt from “The Lady and the Darkness” as translated by Sir Gwilam Cavanaugh
The storm raged around me, full of fury and hate. My eyes watered with the sting of sand and wind. Bran rode the churning mass, arms spread wide and Darkness crawling from his fingers.
Fear froze my heart. I screamed as the bond between us stretched tautly and turned brittle. The slightest touch would break it.
No. This couldn’t be happening. How had his curse been let loose?
Anger and sorrow clogged my throat. The man who helped to raise me was gone, and in his place, a monster had been born. It wasn’t fair. I wanted to rage at the injustice of it. Wanted to cry and wrap my arms around the man who was like a father to me.
Magic sang in my blood. A symphony of brass and strings. Before the Darkness had overwhelmed him, Bran had unlocked something within me. Something that hummed in my soul. What it was, I didn’t know, but I wouldn’t let his sacrifice be in vain.
The Heart was almost within reach. Its slow pulse of discordant notes called me. I inched toward it, trying to keep my eyes on both it and Bran.
Darkness coiled throughout the cyclone that carried Bran aloft. One arm rose, and when it fell, demons poured from the storm with the roar of thunder.
Lady, help us.
Fear for my friends and myself rooted me in place. There were too many. We would never escape.
Michel, Aeron, and Cre settled between me and the creatures, their weapons drawn and their magic a chorus that defied the corruption surrounding us.
Demons slunk across the sand. Shadows coiled around their hands and lengthened into blades. Their chittering barks licked icy lines of fear across my skin.
There were too many.
“We’ll hold them off,” Cre called to me. His broad back flexed as he rolled his shoulders. “Get to the Heart.” A pillar of sand rose from the earth to the steady drum of his magic. It stretched and became a wall between us and the demons.
“Go,” Michel urged.
I had to choose.
Help them fend off Bran and the demons, or grab the Heart.
My hands b
alled into fists. I’d come all this way to find the Heart. With it, I might be able to destroy the demons and heal Bran without killing him. It was close, just a few paces to my right.
Bran landed in a spray of sand between me and the Heart. His eyes were filled with midnight, and the vicious grin that twisted his lips made my stomach flip. All the dark, evil things that had happened to me were alive in that smile.
I swallowed down the fear that made my fingers curl and my stomach tight. Swallowed the anger for every hurt, every pain inflicted on me by Tolbert. By the Darkness. By my fate as the last vessel.
I pulled my pistol and aimed at Bran.
“The little healer has grown teeth. Let’s see if you can bite.” The voice that came from Bran’s mouth wasn’t his. I’d heard it once before when I’d dreamed of the Lady’s fall. It was the voice of Darkness.
I didn’t want to kill Bran. Not unless I absolutely had to. I adjusted my aim and fired at his leg.
Blood sprayed in the air, and I flinched when Bran howled in pain. I dodged past him and dove for the Heart.
Bran grabbed me and pulled me close. “Not so fast.”
I wriggled out of his grasp. I needed a better weapon. The pistol was useless against the Darkness.
Deep breath. Focus. I crafted a blade of fire and water and dropped into a ready stance.
Bran feinted right and whipped his sword left. I parried and slid into an attack. The blades flared with each hit. One. Two. Three. Slide left. Parry. Riposte. Pivot right.
Pain flared along my right arm. Blood dripped from the slice. Not bad enough to impair me, but enough to distract. I hadn’t moved fast enough. I needed to end this. I had to incapacitate Bran long enough to get to the Heart.
A blue, flame-coated blade erupted from Bran’s chest. He glanced down at it, then threw his head back and laughed. “Your holy flames can’t hurt me.” Bran dislodged the blade and spun to face Michel.
A muscle in Michel’s jaw twitched, his eyes full of sorrow. “Hurry, Ris.”
A Sea of Broken Glass Page 27