I’ve wrapped her body in the black robe I found beside her among the Urzulhar Circle. It makes her look even paler as she rests against my breast. I remember when I first met her how struck I was by the pinkish tint of her skin, so different from trolde women. Now I would give anything to see that rosy flush return.
I hold her before me on Knar’s broad back, much as I had the night of our first meeting. We are alone as we fly up from the city. No one can be spared to join me on this journey; everyone is needed in the wake of the attack. Those who don’t chase the remaining devils from the city streets must tend the wounded and collect the dead. A bolt of shame strikes my heart. I should be down there with them. I am their king. What does it say about me that I am riding with all speed straight out of the city in the wake of its greatest disaster?
Pressing Faraine close against me, I lean over the morleth’s neck and spur him on faster and faster. Were it not for her, for this frail, delicate, courageous woman, the disaster would have been far worse, the slaughter unimaginable. Cave devils would be rampaging through the stricken streets even now, tearing out throats and rending limbs. I don’t understand how she did it. I don’t know how she stopped them. But I know if it weren’t for Faraine . . .
I look down into her still face. My chest tightens until I fear my heart will cease to beat. Gods, what a fool I was! I’d fought with everything I had to reach her, believing I was the only one who could save her. It never occurred to me that I was the one who needed saving.
Knar gains speed as he climbs into the air above the city, up and up toward the cavern ceiling. In the gloom of deep dimness, he is happy, a being of pure shadow. We make for one of the shaft openings to the Surface World. These are difficult to access, impossible by any means save morleth. And morleth do not like the air up above, so it takes a skilled rider to dare such an ascent. I’ve never done it before.
I don’t hesitate now. Even as the massive death drop yawns below, even as my city shrinks away, I urge Knar on. This is Faraine’s only chance. I would brave far greater perils for the mere hope of seeing her eyes gaze up at me one last time.
We weave in among the stalactites. There are marks left to guide the way—little white stars carved into the stone and set with small, ever-bright lorst crystals, which shine even when their greater, brighter brethren have dimmed. I follow these pinpoint gleamings, drive Knar with my spurs when he sniffs the air and angrily tosses his head. He knows now where we are going and doesn’t like it. But he doesn’t fight me.
Suddenly, I feel a blast of cool air on my face. The next moment the opening comes into view, a circle gazing out into the awful vastness of the Surface World sky. Distant stars twinkle in their celestial dance above. It’s enough to make my heart quail.
“Drag-or!” I growl and drive Knar on, between the massive tooth-like stalactites, up to that patch of sky. The morleth gnashes his teeth. Sparks shoot from his nostrils.
The next moment, we emerge in a cloud of smoke, up from the rock and soil, streaking straight out into that terrible night. My senses whirl, sick with dread as I feel all that openness around me. After everything else I’ve recently endured, this is almost too much to bear.
I haul on Knar’s reins, reclaiming control. He puffs and growls but obeys when I guide him back down. We skim above the tall grasses. Knar’s cloven hooves shred through the delicate flowers, tossing leaves and petals, but never touch solid ground. The world around is all very wide and wild and barren, rolling fields beneath open sky, purple with twilight and alight with a million stars. I remember vividly what it was like to ride under such a sky on my way to Beldroth. I remember the sensation of Faraine’s fingers lightly touching the back of my wrist, the sudden calm which came over me. I’d guessed at the time that she’d worked her gods-gift on me. But I never dreamed the true potential of her power.
We leave the fields behind at last and come to a rocky place. There I search for the signs Ar described. It would be easier to fly higher and look from above, but I fear I might miss my destination entirely in this unfamiliar world. Down low, the pathway markers are easier to detect—large, gaudy red flowers on tall green stalks. Fire lilies. Their finger-length petals reach like hands to the heavens, gleaming unnaturally bright in the twilight.
I turn Knar’s head. We pursue the path the lilies mark. They grow at intervals, tucked away, half-hidden among the rocks. I must take care not to miss them. I hate this pace, hate the moments I feel slipping away. Faraine grows colder in my arms, but I won’t let go of hope. Not yet.
At last, I spy a stone hut with a rough-thatched roof perched on an outcropping, just as Ar had described. Warm light glows from the small windows. Orange light; sunfire rather than moonfire.
I stop Knar with a word and slip from the saddle, careful not to jostle Faraine more than necessary. Leaving the morleth behind to chomp on lilies, I stride up the rest of the narrow path and come to a halt just beyond the reach of the light. “Maylin!” I cry. “Mistress Maylin! I seek your aid.”
For a long moment, no answer comes. Blood throbs in my ears. This was a mistake. I should never have come to this place. I should turn around right now, flee while I still can. Before that door opens, before . . .
I growl, shake my head hard. What cowardice is this? “Maylin!” I shout again. “I command you: come forth!”
“Command me, do you?” A flicker of shadow passes across one of the windows. The next moment, the door creaks slowly open. “Far be it for me to deny the commands of a king.”
My heart leaps to my throat. In the doorway stands a small, slim, slightly stooped figure in a deep hood and heavy cloak. She rests her weight on a crooked walking stick. Her hands tremble slightly. Though her back is to her fire, the many-stranded crystal necklace she wears glints and shines, illuminating the lower half of her face, her jaw, her mouth.
She seems to study me, her eyes hidden by the shadow of her hood. At long last, her lips part. “Grakol-dura, King Vor,” she says, her troldish strongly accented but understandable. “I wondered if you would someday find your way to my doorstep.”
I widen my stance as though for battle. “I’ve come with one purpose and one alone. I wish neither to speak nor to barter.” I lift Faraine slightly. Some of the orange light falls across her still face. “I need you to reconnect this woman’s living soul to her body. I will pay whatever price you demand.”
The woman’s chin tilts as she redirects her hidden gaze. I feel the intensity of her scrutiny like an electric charge in the air. After a moment, she ventures forward, her cane tapping on the stones of the path. Her movements are slow, awkward, a little pained. Though she is small, she casts a long shadow before her. I shiver when it falls across me. She draws near enough that I could reach out and touch her if I dared, then moves her hood back slightly, revealing the barest glimpse of her cheek and nose. The sight twists my heart. I look away quickly. Unconcerned, she bends over Faraine, studies her closely, hmmming softly to herself. Finally, she lets her hood drop back into place. “So. She used the Urzulhar stones, did she?”
I nod.
“Overextended herself. The resonance ripped right through her I’m afraid.”
I don’t pretend to understand. “Whatever she did, she did to defend Mythanar. She saved them all. My city. My people.”
The woman tilts her head back, her unseen eyes fixed on my face once more. The line of her jaw tightens. It’s such a familiar sight, my throat thickens. I hastily avert my gaze, looking down at Faraine.
“I felt the recent stirrings,” the old witch says at last, her voice a little softer. “There was a bad one a few days ago, yes? I felt it all the way up here on the surface. Mythanar hasn’t got much time left.”
“That is not your concern.” The words snap from my teeth like a bite. “You need only name your price, witch. Tell me how to save this woman.”
She sighs and shakes her head slowly. Then: “There may be something I can do. But it won’t be pleasant.”
I frown. “Will it hurt her?”
The witch snorts. “She’s already dead. How much more do you think I can do to her at this point?”
Still, I hesitate. Dead or alive, I don’t want to do anything to cause Faraine distress. If she’s already beyond pain, is it not kinder simply to let her go?
But no. No! I won’t do it. Not until I’ve had a chance to tell her the truth. To speak all the things I should have said hours ago when I had the chance. Before the stirring, before the horror, before the deaths and devastation. When we were just two people lying in a tumble of limbs atop rumpled blankets. I should have spoken, even as my lips explored her body and my hands caressed her skin. I should have murmured the words as I slipped down to her secret places, as I made her moan and writhe. Or when we lay together after, when I gazed into her face, alight and shining with warmth, with passion.
All those moments, lost forever, recklessly wasted. Yet, here I am. Begging the gods for one moment more.
“Do what you must,” I growl.
A low, knowing, “Hmmmm,” sounds from beneath that dark hood. Then the witch steps back and waves a hand. “Lay her down. Gentle as you can.”
I hasten to obey. The witch kneels beside Faraine and opens the front of her gown, exposing her pale bosom. From her own neck, she takes a glowing strand of crystals and drapes them across Faraine’s body. Carefully, she positions the largest crystal over her heart. This done, she looks up at me. I catch a flash of her golden eyes. “This part may be unpleasant.”
I nod. “Do it.”
The witch shrugs but leans over Faraine. She lets out a long breath, utters a series of words I do not know, and touches her palm to Faraine’s forehead.
Faraine’s eyes flare wide, blazing with white, burning light. She drags in a terrible gasp, like the exhale before a scream. Her whole body goes rigid, her back arched as though in pain.
“Faraine!” I cry.
But she cannot hear me.
