I sprint forward.

  I’m ten paces distant when I spin in the air and, using the force of my momentum, launch the double-bladed staff spinning end over end toward the foremost ssythlan.

  It’s an incredibly rash move, and the guard sees it coming. Blocking such a heavy thrown weapon would be foolhardy in the extreme and unnecessary, so it slips to one side in a contemptuous fluid movement.

  Thank the gods!

  Unobstructed, the blade punches into the mage’s chest several paces behind, who, distracted by his summoning, and thinking himself protected, is caught unawares. He’s flung from his feet, dead before he hits the floor.

  Swiftly, I grab a short spear from a stand, the only weapon within reach. The four remaining guards flow forward, confident in their lightning reflexes, knowing I’ve no avenue of escape.

  If Kralgen wasn’t right, then I’m dead or captured … which will surely lead to a prolonged death. Yet if I didn’t believe in him and my observations, I wouldn’t take such a risk.

  Visualising what I need, I sweep my arm in a dramatic arc.

  My breath plumes, clouding in the air, and a cold wind whistles down the corridor, sending the temperature plummeting along its length. The ssythlans’ flowing movement disintegrates under this onslaught, and they only manage two more steps before coming to a complete standstill.

  I could walk past, and they’d be unable to do anything until the corridor warms again.

  Kralgen was right. Like the much smaller reptiles on the mountainsides, these creatures are cold-blooded. They wear heavy clothing when inside and live in the hottest region, south of the Sea of Sand, back home.

  They simply cannot function in such cold.

  I’m about to stride past when I recall one of Lystra’s teachings.

  Never leave a Chosen behind to die, and never leave an enemy behind to live.

  The short spear's point is needle-sharp, which gives them all a quick death. Dropping it, I wrench the double-bladed staff free of the mage’s chest, reach the top of the circular staircase and pause.

  Rather than run down, I sit on the balustrade. Leaning back to take my feet off the floor, I begin a swift sliding descent, silent save for the whisper of my robe against stonework.

  As I near the bottom, in the entrance hallway, Nogoth stands with Aigul beside him, while two further ssythlan guards are already running up to meet me.

  Leaning backwards, I fall off the balustrade and land in a crouch on the polished hallway floor before straightening up. The ssythlans leap over after me, and I step away, giving them space, visualising how my magic can help.

  As the ssythlans hit the floor, it ripples, and they sink to their waists before it solidifies around them. However skilled they might be, so restrained, they’re easy prey. I knock their swords aside and dispatch them, the double-bladed staff cleaving through their skulls in a bloody spray.

  A slow clap has me spinning back to Nogoth.

  ‘Truly magnificent,’ he says, voice smooth and level, unconcerned. ‘You can control the elements by sheer thought alone, which is almost unheard of, and somehow, you broke the magic that bound us. If ever I had doubts about how special you are, Malina, you’ve just dispelled them.’

  I let Nogoth talk. Using my magic has tired me, and every moment is precious as it allows me to recover a little strength for what’s to come.

  ‘This is a fight you can’t win, Malina. However, what perplexes me is why you’d even try. You just reaffirmed your commitment to serve, yet here you stand, stained with blood, come to do me harm.’

  ‘ENOUGH!’

  My anger is incandescent.

  ‘Enough of your honeyed words and deception. I KNOW everything. I’ve seen the story of your mighty victories painted in the temples by the World Gate and witnessed your monstrous army feed on the remnants of humanity that live below them.’

  Nogoth’s eyebrows raise in surprise, and I continue, fortifying myself with the spoken truth.

  ‘Yes, you’ve said every human life matters to you, but that’s because we’re the livestock that sustains your fey. You promised equality, and you’ll deliver, but only because those left behind will all have nothing!’ Bitterness drips from my voice, and my outburst is greeted by a moment of silence.

  Nogoth approaches me unarmed. He’s dressed casually in leather trousers, a green shirt open at the neck and barefoot as ever. He holds no weapons, and I can’t perceive any concealed on his person. He’s so sure of himself that it gives me pause.

  ‘You’re right in everything you say. I admit to it all and more besides. However, I’ve never lied to you. So, believe me when I say that our future together could be both bright and eternal. It won’t be long before you’re more fey than human, so why not embrace your destiny. The world of humans will shun you again one day, Malina, but here you’ll have a home. Why squander your life for a world that mistreated you and is broken so badly?’

  How can his words resonate so perfectly with my very soul? Even without the blood magic binding us, his charm is nigh on irresistible.

  ‘What do you mean I’ll soon be more fey than human?’

  ‘Live and find out, Malina. Simply lay down your weapon and embrace me as your king once again. You shall stand on one side of me as Aigul stands by the other. Just like you, she had to come to terms with the truth, but look at her now … there is no one more loyal and deserving of my love.’

  Nogoth’s smile is warm, his voice full of wisdom.

  ‘What do you say?’

  Images of Lotane and the other Chosen flash through my thoughts. The gentle voice of the High King and his screams while he burned echo alongside them. Then, like an ethereal parade, the ghosts of generations of Chosen who died to feed Nogoth fly by, alongside parents who cry for their children without realising they're already dead. Lastly, I remember the remnants of humanity held captive in the caves, awaiting death at the jaws of their worst nightmares.

  My legs quiver as Nogoth uses his power of the quickening, and I momentarily feel a rush of heat and desire reminding me of the pleasures that await if I only lay down my arms.

  Yet, the only desire I now feel is to cut out his rotten heart.

  ‘That worked once,’ I laugh bitterly, channelling my thoughts. ‘But let me assure you, I’m coming for you, just not in the way you hope.’

  ***

  Stepping back whilst keeping my eye on Nogoth and Aigul, I drop the staff, taking up the two swords the dead ssythlans have dropped. These will be far better when facing two foes at once.

  Aigul raises her sword, but surprisingly Nogoth gestures with a flick of his fingers, and she moves to the wall, her disappointment evident.

  Despite this, neither she nor Nogoth looks concerned. Perhaps they think I’ll allow him to get a weapon, maybe even armour, and we’ll meet with honour in a duel to the death. He must be skilled beyond belief after so many lifetimes of practice.

  To hell with honour or a duel.

  Nogoth is but two long steps away, having just kept out of reach of my swords, but I close the distance in a flowing lunge, my right blade lancing out to take him in the chest while he remains unmoving, perhaps transfixed by my surprise attack.

  Even as the point of my first weapon hits home, I’m spinning, and the second blade cleaves into the side of Nogoth’s head.

  Yet my right wrist spasms in pain, and my sword bounces off Nogoth’s smiling face as if it’s hit stone. It vibrates in my hands, giving off a high pitch tone as I sidestep swiftly back.

  Nogoth’s shirt is torn where his heart is, but there’s no sign of blood anywhere. His face is grim as he raises his arm, almost as if to block the next blow, and I accept the invitation. With a grunt, I bring the blade of my left sword down to hack off his limb.

  But it doesn’t.

  Once again, it’s like hitting stone, and Nogoth’s fingers grasp the blade twisting it savagely from my grip.

  ‘I could kill you quicker than you can blink, but I’m going to take my time and teach you a lesson instead.’ Nogoth laughs unkindly while examining the blade, running his thumb along its edge before tossing it toward Aigul.

  His words send a chill through my veins but knowing he won’t kill me immediately gives me options.

  Taking the other sword in both hands, bastard style, I cut down, intending to cleave him from neck to groin. After my first few attempts, I should have known better. The blade shatters into a thousand pieces, leaving my face cut by an errant shard. At precisely the same time, Nogoth steps forward and punches me in the stomach with a blow so swift, I barely have time to flinch.

  The air whooshes from my lungs as I’m flung back, skidding across the polished floor to crash against the staircase.

  I gasp, sucking in what small amount of air I can while trying not to throw up or moan with pain. I’m lucky he didn’t break any ribs.

  ‘Is that all you’ve got?’ I taunt.

  It’s a foolhardy tactic, but I need Nogoth to keep to his word and extend the fight. The longer it goes on, the better chance I’ll have.

  Reaching over, I grasp the double-bladed staff. Perhaps the magic that protects him will wear off if I sustain my attack.

  I twirl the weapon, not allowing anything other than a fierce determination to show.

  Advancing, I attack, and the blades bounce off his arms, legs, and head repeatedly until he manages to grasp the shaft. I can’t compete against his strength, so I release the weapon, backing away, but not before receiving a mighty kick to the chest. I’m sent spinning, crashing to the ground.

  He’s so bloody fast and powerful.

  I laugh mockingly on the outside, screaming with pain on the inside. Violet eyes glow like embers as he holds the staff and, with contemptuous ease, snaps it in half before tossing the pieces aside.

  Advancing swiftly across the hallway, he grabs my robe in his fist and pulls me upright.

  ‘No weapon can harm me, Malina. So why not use your magic?’

  Indeed, why not. I have a little strength left.

  Fire envelops my hand as I visualise Nogoth bursting into flame, but it dies away instantly as it did with the Saer Tel. I resist the urge to keep trying, saving my strength; what little remains.

  ‘You’ll never have a chance to discover what you might have been capable of!’ Nogoth rages.

  Holding me upright with one hand, he bunches the other into a fist which crackles, encased in what appears to be a small cloud of lightning. He punches me in the face, the searing pain blurring my vision as my body jolts and shudders under the lightning’s effect.

  My magic resists, diminishing what otherwise might have been a lethal blow, but I’m still twitching like a puppet with a broken nose and salty blood running into my mouth.

  ‘You could have had everything!’

  His words reach me through a sea of pain, yet I smile through it all.

  ‘Eternal youth!’

  Another blow lands.

  ‘Magical power you can barely comprehend!’

  My head spins.

  ‘My child!’

  What?!?

  Nogoth’s now holding me so close that I’m in striking distance.

  Quickly reaching inside my robes, I grab the hilt of the Soul Blade and, pulling it free, drive it into his heart.

  ‘Die!’ I scream as I land the blow.

  Nogoth slaps the weapon from my grip and then drops me in a heap. The blunt Soul Blade hasn’t penetrated, let alone marked his already torn clothes.

  ‘Haven’t you realised that neither the fey nor I have a soul? We can only travel when the World Gate opens with the lunar cycle. But let me assure you, when it does, over two hundred thousand of my fey will follow me through. Giants, trolls, gargoyles and more. They’re steadfast and loyal, like you used to be!’

  Another kick, and I’m curled up in a ball, whimpering as blood pools on the floor from my broken nose, face and mouth, gathering in the cracks between the flagstones. Nogoth walks away, wiping the blood from his hands onto his shirt.

  Grabbing onto the edge of the stone steps, I haul myself upright, collapse, and then make it to my feet again. I push my hand into my robes, clutching my stomach, moaning.

  Nogoth nods to Aigul, and she steps forward.

  I’m his gift to her. A beaten, broken love rival who can offer no resistance.

  Swaying, I wait, looking around vacantly, my dazed eyes uncomprehending of death approaching.

  Aigul raises her sword in both hands, ready to strike the executioner’s blow. I lower my head in exhaustion, staring at her feet, perceiving her muscles tense, followed by a transfer of body weight.

  I can’t beat Nogoth. Not now, and perhaps not ever, but to have a chance of defeating a superior opponent, one should study them first, and I’ve learned a lot in this encounter. Now all I need to do is survive it and escape.

  NOW!

  I pivot, the hissing blade missing me by a hairsbreadth as I pull out my hand from within my robe. When Aigul’s sword clangs against the ground, leaving her unbalanced, I slam the second Soul Blade into her neck.

  I’d gambled everything on her having a soul as she’d travelled here through the World Gate, and I was right. Before she even registers the stunning blow, I vault over the balustrade onto the staircase and run up as fast as my shaking legs can carry me.

  I don’t know what’s loudest; Aigul’s scream as her soul is ripped from her, or Nogoth’s shout of denial.

  ‘No, Aigul. NO!’ he roars as he streaks forward to catch her falling body.

  I’ve delivered a killing blow, and she only has a minute to live.

  My desperate last-second plan to survive depends on this moment.

  As I sprint up the spiral staircase, I catch sight of Nogoth running with Aigul in his arms toward the kitchens and the cellars beyond where the elixir is gathered. He’ll be too late to save Aigul, but I’d rested all my hopes on him trying.

  Nothing is stronger than love.

  I smash the first window I come across. Hopefully, any pursuers will believe I escaped into the valley. I need every hour I can get.

  Continuing past the slain ssythlans, I enter Aigul’s room and swiftly cross to a wardrobe. I tear off my bloodied robe and throw it to the back before snatching a simple black one which I pull over my head. Shutting the door, I hurry to her balcony. Climbing onto the stone railing, I hold the Soul Blade tightly.

  Leaning forward, I dive off the ledge, head first, arms extended before me.

  There are no mirrors in the mansion, whether to stop someone from escaping using a Soul Blade or for some other reason. Yet below me is the shallow reflecting pool, and there’s my mirror image flying toward me.

  This had better work.

  ***

  CHAPTER IV

  For the briefest moment, wetness engulfs me, and I tense, expecting to break every bone in my body as I crash into the bottom of the pool. Yet, the wailing of tormented souls reassures me that all is well.

  This long return journey will be torturous, and I steel myself, trying to focus instead on what the hell I’m going to do back at the mountain.

  How am I going to make anyone believe what I’ve discovered? Even if they do, they’re still bound to the Heart Stone, to obey Nogoth, and the ssythlans. If they’re ordered to kill me, they won’t hesitate.

  Maybe I should try and escape the moment I arrive. Yet that plan isn’t as easy as it sounds. Even assuming I could make my way unseen to the docks, the small fishing boats there won’t survive a crossing to the mainland, and I’ve no hope of sailing one of the huge ssythlan vessels alone.

  The only other way is the Soul Gate. I’d had the idea that a Soul Blade already carrying a soul wouldn’t require another to pay for passage. If I’m right …

  But ssythlans apparently have no soul, meaning I’ll have to kill another human.

  I can’t just randomly kill an innocent person to save myself. Can I? No, not unless they try to kill me first.

  My thoughts come full circle.

  I need the other Chosen. The six of us can escape using a large ssythlan ship. It won’t be easy, but we can do it using our magic. But where would we go, and what would we do?

  Even as that bigger question enters my mind, I fall onto the stone dais beneath the Soul Gate.

  I’m home!

  Once, returning here would have filled me with a sense of security. Now, I’ve rarely felt in more danger. Nonetheless, I breathe a sigh of relief.

  If Nogoth had reached out to the ssythlans, there’d have been anything from the ssythlan mages to a dozen guards waiting to take my head. With me unarmed and my magical power almost depleted, I’d have had no chance.

  Thankfully, just the usual one remains, standing straight and immobile, swaddled in thick robes, guarding the entrance into the ssythlan side of the mountain. It makes no step nor turns its head toward me. Only the trusted Chosen come and go through the gate, so my appearance isn’t untoward, and we probably all look the same to them as they do to us.

  However, it won’t be long before the ssythlans are alerted to my betrayal. I need to make haste without drawing attention.

  My head is spinning, and I get to my hands and knees, attempting to steady myself. I push against the blackness, relieved that the return journey hasn’t affected my body so severely.

  As my nausea recedes, I rise unsteadily and return the Soul Blade to the gate’s frame. I don’t want to raise any suspicions if those dark eyes are watching me.

  As I step off the dais, it takes all my willpower to appear composed. I head toward the giant lens and, stooping down, peer through it at the night sky. There they are, the three moons, almost in alignment. Nogoth had said it would be one week till the invasion. But one week there, or one week here?

  One week till the beginning of the end.

  I have to find Lotane and the others and break the blood magic that binds them here as I did mine.

  Yet how will they feel if I do?

  My question makes me falter.

  If I break the magic that binds them and show them the truth, I’ll take away their home, their happiness, and maybe their lives.

 

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