Shadow & Flame

by Mindee Arnett

  “Apparently,” Dal said, “the light vanished, taking her eyes with it.” Signe elbowed him in the side hard enough he grunted.

  Casting them both a reproving look, Corwin knelt beside Nadira. “Will she be all right?”

  “Only the goddess can say.”

  A moment later, Valora’s mouth slid open and her chest rose as she drew a deep breath. With her eyes gone, it was impossible to tell if she was conscious or not. That was, until she slowly sat up.

  “Be easy.” Nadira gripped Valora’s arm and helped her into a sitting position. “You’ve had a . . .” She trailed off. There was no word that fit what had happened here. This was more than mere accident, magical or otherwise. The air seemed to hum with power, but rather than heighten Kate’s senses as normal magic might have done, this made her feel languid, as if she were lying on a riverbank beneath warm sunshine, listening to the steady song of the flowing water.

  Harue leaned toward the priestess. “Can you speak, Valora?”

  “Give her a minute,” Kate said.

  Everyone assembled held silent for a few moments, waiting to see what Valora would do. Kate felt like anything might be possible. The woman could sprout wings and fly. It was the strange magic responsible for the feeling, she decided. She felt like a child again after waking from one of her frequent dreams about flying, the sensation of it so vivid it certainly must’ve been real, as if she could do it while waking if she only concentrated hard enough.

  After a while, Valora drew an audible breath and let it out again. “I’m . . . fine.” She climbed to her feet, Nadira helping her once more. She led her over to an empty chair, and Valora sank onto it with a sigh.

  “Now can you tell us what happened?” Harue said with open impatience. She was looking at Valora like she was a book she desperately longed to read.

  Valora slowly shook her head. “I’m not sure. The book, it . . . it changed me. I feel as if I’ve been gone from the world for a thousand years only to return the moment I left.”

  It made no sense. It was impossible, and yet she wasn’t lying. Kate could tell that even without her magic. But she also knew that truth was often subject to perception, and wanting to see what really happened, she reached toward Valora with her sway, ready to probe her memories. Suddenly aware of what she was doing, she stopped. With a guilty swallow, she pulled back. No, she must accept what Valora said at face value. It was only then Kate noticed how intently Signe was watching her.

  “The goddess spoke to me,” Valora went on. “I heard her voice. I saw her face.” She motioned to her ears and then her missing eyes. If the injury pained her, it didn’t show in her expression. “But Noralah was in her true form, and this frail body couldn’t handle the magnificence of it. It was like staring into the sun, and yet I couldn’t look away. I didn’t want to.”

  “Was that the white light?” Harue said.

  Valora turned her head right toward Harue, as if she could still see. “No. That was just a drop of her power bound into the book itself. I released it, and her essence went into me.”

  No one spoke, and Kate wondered if the others were questioning the woman’s sanity. It was one thing to say she’d released a magical spell; it was quite another to claim the goddess’s power itself had come into her. Kate shifted her weight from one foot to the other, uncomfortable with the idea. More than ever she’d begun to suspect that the gods were nothing more than a myth, and the wonders and practices of the priesthood just a different strain of the magic used by magists and wilders alike. The magic attributed to these “gods” was looking more and more like a random, uncontrollable version of the power she and others held, magic embedded in the earth itself—not the work of any sort of conscious being.

  After a moment, Corwin stepped toward Valora. He did it reverently, like approaching a shrine or altar. Bending down, he took her hand in his. Valora turned her head toward him. “Did the goddess tell you anything that will help us now?”

  Valora didn’t respond at first, but seemed to regard him thoughtfully. Then she raised a hand to his face, touching the side of his cheek. “Yes, Corwin Tormane, she did.” The high priestess cast her eyeless gaze around the room, and Kate could swear that Valora could see her. “The Invocarium detailed a ritual that will bestow the power of the goddess onto a person of our choosing, transforming them into the Paragon, champion of the goddess.”

  Kate’s skin prickled. Paragon.

  “But the book’s empty.” Harue said, even more oblivious than usual. “How can we know exactly what it said?”

  Lowering her hand from Corwin’s face, Valora turned to Harue. “All that it contained is now contained within me.” She gestured to her forehead and then her heart. Harue looked perplexed but didn’t respond.

  “Very well,” Corwin said, and there was an edge to his voice—hope, sharp as a knife. “What do you need for the ritual?” His certainty took Kate by surprise, his willingness to believe without proof. Again, Kate felt the temptation to probe Valora’s mind, and again refrained. Perhaps for Corwin the proof was the woman herself, the way her body had been transformed by a magic no one had experienced before. Or maybe it was because of his experiences with the uror trial. She couldn’t say.

  “Many things,” Valora replied, “but mostly time to prepare. The ritual can only be performed at dawn.”

  “But that’s just a few hours away,” Nadira said.

  “There will not be enough time to do it this dawn,” Valora replied. “It will have to wait until the following.”

  Corwin ran a hand through his hair. “But I need to leave for Rin in the morning.”

  Genet cleared her throat, drawing Corwin’s gaze. “If I may, your majesty, perhaps it would be best to send a messenger ahead, to give the lords a chance to prepare for your arrival. That will allow time to complete the spell.”

  With a resigned expression, Corwin nodded. “I suppose that would be wise.”

  “You could send Laurent,” Kate said. When Corwin turned his gaze on her, she quickly added, “your majesty. Some of them will know his name and face from his time as the Rising’s ambassador in Norgard. That might make them more trusting.” She knew better than to suggest Dal. Signe wouldn’t stand for it.

  Corwin stared at her for a long moment, and her pulse quickened in response. Then he turned back to Genet. “Sending Laurent would also make it clear that I stand with the wilders.” Genet offered him a quick, reassuring smile. “Laurent it is then, but Dal, I think you should go as well.”

  “No,” Valora said, her voice ringing out like a gong.

  Corwin tilted his head at her. “Why not?”

  “Lord Dallin Thorne will be needed for the ritual.”

  “Me?” Dal pointed his thumb to his chest in obvious discomfort at the notion.

  “Yes,” Valora said. “The ritual requires the blood of the four lands. I will need Signe to represent Esh. Tira for Seva, and Yaron for Rime.” She pointed at Signe and Yaron as she said their names.

  “If Yaron is Rime, then what exactly am I to represent?” Dal said, a half smile on his lips, as if they were all merely humoring her.

  “You will represent Ruzgar, of course.”

  Dal’s smile widened, then faltered. “Excuse me?”

  “Your father was of Ruzgar,” Valora replied matter-of-factly, as if she had no idea of the magnitude of this revelation. No one knew the true identity of Dal’s father, including Dal himself. Officially, Dal was the son of the baron and baroness of Thornewall; unofficially, his closest friends knew he’d been born a bastard, son of the baroness and another man, but that man’s identity was a mystery from everyone.

  Not anymore, Kate realized as she saw the truth dawning in Dal’s expression, bringing with it a mixture of utter shock and wonderment.

  “Dal?” Corwin asked. “Do you think it’s true?”

  Dal didn’t respond for several moments. Then finally he exhaled. “I . . . don’t know. How could I? But I do remember a man from Ruzga
r, a privateer called Captain Brack. He used to visit Thornewall every summer when I was a child. I only remember because he would give me the best sweets I’ve ever tasted, and once, after discovering I had a black eye, he taught me how to fight with just my fists.” Dal paused, as if only now becoming aware that he was speaking these memories aloud. Red blotches spread over his neck as he turned back to Valora. “How can you be sure my father was from Ruzgar?”

  “The goddess knows all, and I have been given her sight.”

  Dal shook his head. “Well, then, how can I be sure this is true and not some . . . elaborate hoax?”

  Valora stared at him, and even though she was eyeless, there was no denying it was a penetrating stare. “Belief is a choice you must make on your own.” Valora turned her head toward Kate now. “And so must you, Kate Brighton. I need you for the ritual as well. You are to become the Paragon.”

  Kate’s blood seemed to freeze in her veins, and the tranquil feeling she’d been experiencing vanished. But before she could respond, Corwin spoke.

  “Why her? Shouldn’t I be the one who becomes this Paragon?”

  “The vessel must be a woman. The goddess wills it so.”

  Kate wrapped her arms around her body, desperate to stave off a sudden chill—and fear. A vessel must first be emptied if it is to be filled.

  Corwin glanced at her, then back at Valora. “We have many other women here.”

  At his doubt, anger crept into Kate’s fear. No matter his feelings for her, she was still loyal to Rime. She wanted Rendborne and Seva defeated more than anyone. There was no reason for him to object to her taking part. She would not betray this power.

  “The Paragon must be wilder born,” Valora said, her expression stern. “And of those here, Kate’s particular magic makes her the best suited for it. Her mind is strong. She stands the greatest chance of surviving.”

  “Surviving?” Corwin’s eyebrows climbed his forehead. “Do you mean the spell might kill her?”

  Valora nodded. “Any vessel may break if filled to bursting. But by the goddess’s sight, I’m certain she is the right choice.”

  With hands fisted at his side, Corwin shook his head. “We must find some other way. I’ll not risk Kate’s life to win this war.” After a beat he added, “Or anyone’s. So long as I succeed in uniting the Rimish forces, we can defeat Seva with our own might.”

  Seva yes, Kate thought. But not Rendborne. She drew a deep breath, tasting the magic in the air, still feeling its sweet, soothing power, a balm to her fear. She might be risking her life, but becoming the Paragon was a better option than wielding the Hellsteel. Better for her to risk death than for all the magic of Rime to perish.

  “I’ll do it,” Kate said, and Corwin wheeled on her, mouth opened to argue. She raised a hand to silence him. “We will need all the help we can get, Cor—your majesty. It’s worth the risk. And it’s my decision to make.”

  Corwin held her gaze for a long time, emotions she couldn’t name churning in his eyes. Then, finally, he bowed his head. “So it is.” For a second he looked like he might say more, but as always of late, silence reigned between them.

  27

  Kate

  AT VALORA’S COMMAND, KATE SPENT the next day and night in seclusion. Although she was supposed to use the time for prayer and quiet contemplation, she spent most of it pacing. She hated waiting more than anything, and idleness was like a slow poison, killing her by the minute. She wanted to be out doing something, anything, but she was stuck staring at the walls of her small cave. Tira had moved out to give Kate peace, and no one was allowed in to see her.

  At least the time dulled the edges of her fear. The Paragon ritual is only magic, Kate reminded herself over and over again. No matter what Valora called it, it was magic, same as any a magist might work. Only the labels were different—one called a ritual the other a spell. And she wasn’t afraid of magic. Magic was an elemental force like wind or rain. It had no agenda, no will of its own beyond the parameters of the spell. Once she was in possession of this power, it would be her will that mattered. She would use the power to kill Rendborne and to end his threat to Rime forever. All this talk about vessels and filling up was the pretty language of a primitive era, nothing more.

  Are you sure? A voice of dissent whispered in her head. The uror sign’s magic changed Rendborne. You saw it yourself. It gave Corwin some ability too, allowing him to defeat Rendborne that day.

  It was true, but she chose to ignore this point. It was either that or succumb to the fear.

  As the night grew late, she finally forced herself to stop pacing and lie down on the pile of blankets she’d been using for a bed. No sooner had she closed her eyes, though, than she sensed someone come in.

  “Signe?” Kate said, surprised at her appearance. “What are you doing here?”

  Signe crossed her arms in front of her, looking uncertain. “I needed to talk to you.”

  Kate braced for the worst, the wounds from their last conversation still fresh. She definitely didn’t need Signe to dig at them deeper right now. “What about?” she said, carefully.

  “This . . . Paragon ritual,” Signe began, still uncertain. “Why are you going through with it? How do you know Valora can be trusted?”

  “I . . .” Kate shook her head, overcome by surprise. Not that the question hadn’t occurred to her already. For her, the decision had nothing to do with trust and everything to do with necessity. That and choosing between the lesser of two fears. Rendborne must be defeated, and she would rather risk undergoing the Paragon ritual than using the Hellsteel. But she didn’t want to admit it to Signe, worried she wouldn’t be sympathetic to Kate’s concern about losing her sway. “It’s our only chance at stopping Rendborne.”

  Signe pursed her lips. “You didn’t use your sway to check Valora’s story?”

  At first, Kate thought it was an accusation, but then she heard the genuine question. With her fingers clenching into fists, she shook her head. “I considered it, but no. As you said, a person’s thoughts are private.” She dropped her eyes, hoping that the admission would heal the rift between them, that Signe would decide to forgive her.

  “Yes, they are. I’m glad you didn’t. But . . . I’m still not certain you should go through with this ritual.”

  Kate sighed, disappointment stinging inside her. “Like I said. I have to.”

  “It might kill you, Kate. Valora admitted as much.”

  “So she did. But it’s not the first time I’ve risked my life. It won’t be the last.”

  Signe nodded, as if satisfied. “May the luck of Aslar be with you then.”

  And with that, she left, leaving Kate alone with nothing but regret for company.

  Lying down once more, she closed her eyes and waited for sleep to come. When it finally arrived, it brought painful, terrifying dreams. She saw a spear plunged through the uror horse’s side and her friends lying dead in a field of blood and blackened everweeps. She saw Eravis in Corwin’s arms, the princess beautiful and cold and smiling triumphantly at Kate. Beside her, Corwin didn’t even notice Kate, and his indifference was the worst part of all. No matter how much she screamed or cried or begged, he didn’t care. She was a ghost to him, dead already.

  Kate woke with her body covered in sweat, hair matted to the back of her neck. The room was dim, only a single candle burning in the far corner, casting long shadows over the walls. Seeing one of them move, Kate sat bolt upright, hand reaching at once for her sword while her mind searched for an intruder’s.

  But before she could use either, she heard Corwin say, “It’s just me.”

  She relaxed, but only by a degree. Aware of how thin and flimsy the shift she wore was, she moved to cover herself with the blanket despite her sweat. “What are you doing here?”

  “Valora sent me to get you. Dawn is breaking. It’s time to start the ritual.”

  Fear rushed up anew inside Kate, and she trembled. It’s only magic, she told herself yet again, but it didn�
��t feel that way. It felt like the end of the world—or its beginning.

  “Let me get dressed,” Kate said, “and I’ll meet you outside.”

  Corwin shook his head. “Valora wants you to wear this for now.” He held out the robe that he’d been carrying slung over one arm.

  “Very well.” Kate climbed to her feet, letting the blanket fall to the ground as she took the robe from Corwin.

  He stared at her intently as she slipped it on. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  She nodded, her throat too constricted with nerves for speaking.

  Some of the intensity left his gaze, a resigned sadness taking its place. “I wish things had gone differently between us, Kate. I wish—” He broke off, drawing a deep breath. “I never meant to hurt you. I hope you know that.”

  Kate stared at him, searching her brain for some response that wouldn’t come off as a deflection. But how could she put into words her own sorrow, her regret like a wound that wouldn’t stop bleeding? In the end all she could do was parrot his words back to him. “I’m sorry as well.”

  It wasn’t enough, and yet Corwin nodded and turned toward the door. She followed after him, arms wrapped around her sides like armor. They made their way down the uneven corridors and through the main hall to the cave mouth. The people they passed watched with open interest. Kate kept her gaze fixed on the ground and the steady back-and-forth of her feet.

  Once outside, she looked up to see early-morning light filtering through the trees, the air redolent with the scents of spring. Birds chirped in the treetops and insects buzzed in the underbrush. Reaching out with her sway, Kate sensed all the wildlife nearby—deer, rabbit, squirrels. She relished in the feel of their simple minds and simple thoughts, wishing she could be one of them.