Layala’s backside had grown numb hours before. The hard, wooden bench she sat on in the prison cart wasn’t meant for comfort. She suddenly longed for the cushy carriage Thane had taken her in months before. At least that was soft. The small, barred windows she peered out of now provided enough fresh air, but this was a cage. The wagon creaked, swayed, and bounced over the uneven road. Layala stood, going to the back door and wrapped her hands around the bars. A buzzing noise around her ears made her twitch. The flies in this cursed wagon wouldn’t leave her alone. The stench of the dried animal shit on the floor not only stung her nostrils but attracted pests. The bottom hem of her dress was filthy and reeked.
Dust billowed up from the horses and foot soldiers outside. One of them turned, heavy-lidded eyes found hers. There was sorrow there, but the elf beside him stared at her with utter hatred. She recognized him from the night before when she lost it and went on a killing spree. She wanted to ask the one with kind eyes to set her free, to stand against the tyrant king, but that would only get this elf killed, and probably his family too. She couldn’t ask him to risk everything for her. She couldn’t ask any of them.
What lies might Tenebris have told them about their precious savior—destroyer of the Void? Did they think they were taking her to save them now? Or that she was a traitor who’d taken Thane’s side and now was Tenebris’s prisoner. Loyal soldiers followed the orders of their king. Maybe they didn’t question what was happening at all, maybe they didn’t dare. Maybe they simply believed he was doing what was best for Palenor.
It felt like a stone sank in her gut. For the first time since they’d taken her captive, she accepted that Thane couldn’t come for her. She was on her own. Perhaps Thane’s injuries were too much. Maybe the note was sent by someone else to torment her, give her false hope where there was none.
Flashes of crimson stained her mind. Death haunted her like howling winds in a winter storm. First her parents, Novak, then Reina… Thane. She pressed a hand to her chest, willing the pressure to ease the pain throbbing there. It didn’t. With an aching heart, she leaned back and closed her eyes. She didn’t want to sleep. The faces of the guards she killed, and her last moments with Thane would haunt her there, but the swaying of the wagon made her limbs heavy, made her breaths become shallow and even, until the swish of horse tails and the steady march of the army lulled her to slumber…
Come to me. I need you. Layala turned at the sound of the voice. “Thane?” she called.
She stood on a stone pathway in a garden surrounded by tall exotic trees with blooms of lavender and blush. This place was familiar, but somehow, she knew it existed only in her dreams. The sweet, rich scent of jasmine drifted on warm air. She’d always loved that smell. It made her feel at home. Her fingers brushed the open petals of midnight lilies as she passed them in a slow gait. She looked up, stars winked above, and a full moon coated the garden in its pale light. It was so beautiful here. “Thane, where are you?” she had to see him, even if it wasn’t real.
“Hello, love. I’m here.”
He sounded slightly different than she remembered but it must be him. That deep voice sent chills down her spine, and she smiled, almost giddy. She turned, ready to throw her arms around him, but her surroundings shifted to a figure in a black cloak, not Thane. Some instinct deep inside told her to run. Picking up the long fabric of her scarlet dress, she took off, tearing through a now dark, haunting forest. Wolf howls and owl hoots and glowing yellow eyes seemed to follow her. The hooded figure laughed and laughed echoing all around the inky blackness, surrounding her like a cloud. His footsteps slammed the ground trailing close behind her, too close.
The hooded figure appeared in front of her, and she skidded to a halt, stumbling backward. He advanced with slow, methodical steps. “Don’t run. It’s beneath you.”
In her retreat, her back bumped into a tree, the sharp bark scraping her skin. This felt too real to be a dream. “Stay away.”
His hand reached for her, tattoos of black lilies on vines trailed up his arm. Maker above, it was him—the Black Mage! Her chest heaved up and down, and she pressed harder into the tree. She wanted to shut her eyes, willing this nightmare to dissipate, but her stare was fixed. Warm fingers touched her cheek. “I am your destiny.”
Jolting awake, Layala blinked rapidly. Her cart was at rest, no longer jostling her on the rough road. How long had they been stopped? The cool autumn night air whisked through the bars. She rubbed her arms to fight off the chill and sat up taller. That dream felt all too real. She could almost smell the jasmine and feel the ghost of those fingers caressing her cheek. With a shudder, she pushed to her feet making her way to the barred window. Torches outside crackled and burned brightly. Tents went up all around and chattering and laughing soldiers surrounded her. Having a wonderful time by the sounds of things. And I’m stuck in a cage, she thought.
They were cooking, too. Her mouth watered at the savory aroma of roasting meats. Would she get a plate? After being starved for weeks even the scent of it made her ravenous. Clinking metal against the cart door made Layala jump. She hadn’t heard anyone approach. The metal hinges squealed as it swung, revealing Aldrich and three other soldiers behind him. He clipped the key ring to his belt and waved. “Let’s go.”
“Where?” She didn’t know exactly the final destination the king had in mind, but she had an idea. She recognized the large poppy fields she’d passed by before. They moved south toward Doonafell, toward the Void, and they weren’t there yet. They had another day or two to go.
“Mathekis wishes to see you.”
Aldrich held out his hand. Layala shoved it aside and dropped to the soft grass. The three soldiers kept a grip on their sword pommels and backed up several steps. She smiled at their wariness to cover her remorse. She’d never wanted the soldiers of Palenor to fear her, but things changed and there was no appearing weak. How many did she kill on her rampage to get to Tenebris the night before? Nine, ten? From the moment the knife slid across Reina’s throat to when she held the sharp edge of a blade to Tenebris’s neck was a blur.
Yet Aldrich wasn’t afraid of her. If he thought she would hold back when it came to killing him, he was woefully mistaken. He was as much to blame for what happened to her and Thane and the others, as Tenebris. When the opportunity came to end him, she would take it.
With her chin held high, she walked beside Aldrich with the three soldiers in tow several paces behind. “If you play your cards right, you’ll get to go free soon.”
“Well, I never was any good at cards,” Layala drawled. “Your father will try to kill me as soon as he gets what he wants.” Layala hissed at a sharp sting in her arm. She turned to Aldrich pulling a barb out of her.
“It’s much easier for me if I don’t have to fight you to give the katagas serum.” He tucked the barb into the brown pouch at his hip. He half smiled. “You seemed to have gotten back your spirit. I thought my father might have broken you for good.”
Break her for good? No, the embers of rage wouldn’t be snuffed out until Tenebris was dead and buried.
He gestured toward her wrapped, injured hand. The bandages were dirty now, but it didn’t hurt anymore. “We need to get that changed and looked at.”
Layala tucked her hand behind her back. “It’s fine.” Though the throbbing ache told her otherwise. She made it worse when she attacked the guards and went after the king. She turned her head to the lights of the town below, the waves of golden wheat fields in the distance, shifting in the night wind. Luminor crickets chirped, and their bodies glowed like tiny stars. This place brought back so many memories. It was near here she fought Aldrich surrounded by the Ravens, when they named her “Fightbringer”, and for the first time in her life she had felt like she belonged. Maker, she missed them. All of them. She could hardly stomach looking at Aldrich knowing the vow of loyalty to Thane he’d taken to be a Raven, and how easily he broke it.
“This way,” Aldrich said, tilting his head to the left.
After passing through the outer edges of the camp, likely to avoid attention, they came upon a large beige tent. The slit in the opening revealed bright light coming from the inside. Layala swallowed hard, knowing full well who waited inside. Aldrich pulled the tent flap aside and gestured for her to go in. Her stomach ached at the thought of Mathekis having such control over her. The way he, with a command, stopped her from hacking that blade into Tenebris’s neck even with the level of desperation and fury fueling her. She couldn’t imagine what he must have been like four hundred years ago at the peak of his power with the Black Mage. She couldn’t imagine what the Black Mage—Zaurahel Everhath was like if Mathekis bowed to him. Atarah said they worshiped him like a god before he became the most feared.
She stepped inside and stood by the entrance. A firm hand pushed her a little farther inside and the tent flap dropped shut behind her. Mathekis sat with his legs crossed in a large wooden chair. The oversized robe he wore to cover his identity was draped over the chair’s armrest. Who did the soldiers think he was? Did they notice him riding amongst them, feel the evil coming from him?
One long snow-white finger ending in a pointed black nail tapped against his temple, and his other arm casually lay across his lap. Onyx eyes trailed over her from head to toe and back up. “I often wondered what you would look like. It was strange waiting for you to be born. Sometimes I pondered if Zaurahel was wrong. But here we are just as he said.”
“Are you going to kill me?” After what Talon said, she couldn’t get it out of her head. What if they sacrificed her so the Black Mage could absorb her power somehow? The more she thought about it, the more likely it seemed.
His black eyebrows rose. “Zaurahel wants you very much alive. Together the things you’ll do…” Disgusted, Layala jerked her gaze from his endless dark eyes and up to several bright-yellow orbs that hung in nets from the tent poles above. They looked like glowing rocks. “Magic,” Mathekis said, sitting taller. “You could make them alight if you wanted to. I could show you. From what I’ve seen and heard, you’ve barely used your power. You don’t even know what you’re capable of yet.”
“Might I remind you, I’ve had a steady stream of katagas serum in my body for weeks,” she said calmly although, she wanted to scream.
He smiled, showing his pointed teeth. Layala took an involuntary step back. “My appearance disturbs you?”
“Of course, it does. You’re a beast that eats people.”
Unphased by her comment, he said, “Once, I was beautiful like you, like all elves. Vibrant olive skin, green eyes like a forest, thick golden-brown hair.” He stared up as if to gaze at the stars if only the tent fabric wasn’t there. “My mother said I was as handsome as a warm spring day. And now I am an endless winter, cold, dark, taking life without remorse. Feeling nothing and loving no one. You are right to loathe me, for I have become death and nothing more.”
For a moment, she was sad for the elf he once was. It was difficult to picture him described as a spring day. The creature sitting before her now was hideous and grotesque; black lips and charcoal shadows around his eyes, every tooth ending in a point, but it was the wholly onyx eyes that was most startling. “If the Black Mage cursed you to be this creature, why do you follow him? Why do you want him back?”
“He has the power to free me of this curse. I don’t want to crave elven flesh. I don’t want to have the urge to take you to the ground and tear a bite out of your pretty neck.” He stood and Layala retreated, heart beating faster. She had no magic and no weapons to defend herself with. She knew he harbored those cravings, but with his claim the Black Mage didn’t want her hurt, she’d grown a little too comfortable in his presence. This was an elf-eating beast as much as the rest of them and she couldn’t let her guard down.
Mathekis stared at her, calculating, eyes narrowing. What did he see there? “And the only way he can free me is if you free him.”
She found his choice of words odd. Free him, as if he wasn’t dead at all but… trapped. “Were you his friend?”
“Yes.”
“Then why would he allow you to become this in the first place? I would never curse a friend to become what you are. Not even my enemy.”
Mathekis placed his hands behind his back and slowly paced in a horizontal line. “My bargain wasn’t met. I knew the price. He asked me not to go through with the spell.”
“Asked you not to? As if he couldn’t control the punishment? He’s the one who made the stipulations. You see that, don’t you? He’s the reason you’re cursed. He’s not your friend. He should be your enemy.”
His black lips pressed firmly together.
With a sigh, Layala said, “If you knew the consequences then why would you do it?”
“Because I loved her—turns out she didn’t love me.”
“A mate bond?”
Silence stretched long between them.
“What makes you think he will free you once he’s back?”
His footsteps were eerily silent as he paced, as was his breathing. The sizzling candles on the small cherry wood desk were louder. How simple it would be for him to sneak up on someone. He was as quiet as a ghost, as if he weighed nothing and did not draw breath. Chills peppered Layala’s skin.
“He promised me if I delivered you to him, he would.”
“You’re taking me inside the Void.” It wasn’t a question.
He stopped his pacing and leveled her with his eerie gaze. “Yes. You will not be harmed.”
She gulped and inched back until the tent’s fabric grazed her skin. She had to get away from these people. Feeling with her hand, she searched for the tent’s opening. Once she caught the edge of the fabric, she gripped it, ready to twist and run.
“I know you fear the stories—fear Zaurahel,” he paused, “but you don’t need to. And I have a feeling eventually you won’t.”
“Everyone fears him.”
“He will be in your debt.”
He wouldn’t because she wasn’t going to bring him back. Layala took a deep breath, plotting out her path of escape in her mind. She could dash through the tall wheat fields relatively unseen and make for the town below. There would be somewhere to hide.
“Don’t try to run.” Mathekis still held his hands behind his back as he paced. His words weren’t laced with power. It wasn’t a magical command. “You won’t get far and Tenebris will only hurt you more. He brought your friends. And I’m sure you remember what happened to the maid.”
“What friends?” Had Tenebris found Aunt Evalyn, Forrest or Ren?
“The red-haired warrior girl, Piper, and your prince’s right hand, Fennan. I know them well.”
Layala released the fabric, and her shoulders sank. Leaving would be a death sentence for them… her eyes widened a little. But if they were here in this camp, she could find them. They could run together. “Is there a reason you called me here or can I leave?”
He turned his back to her. “You may go.”
Layala slipped past the tent’s flaps and stepped out to find Aldrich and those same three guards waiting. All of them straightened their spines and pushed their shoulders back.
“I’m to give you a meal.” Aldrich moved the plate toward her. A meager roll and maybe an ounce of meat. “And escort you back to the cart.”
She snatched the plate, and as they walked through the camp, she searched for another prison cart or a place they might be holding Piper and Fennan. Across burning fires, tents, and groups of soldiers, she spotted another cart with bars.
