Lorelle of the Dark, page 27
“Vohn—”
“I am going.”
Khyven clenched his jaw. “Well, I’m not taking you.”
“Aren’t you?” Vohn continued packing like a tolerant parent listening to the tirade of a child.
“I’m not going to risk you!”
The passion in Khyven’s voice actually made the Shadowvar pause and look up. A small smile crossed his face. “Khyven…” he said softly. “Well, well, you’re genuinely concerned. I’m… honored.”
“What?”
“You actually mean that. You’re afraid for me.”
“Well of course I am! That’s what I’m trying to tell you, you stubborn little—”
“I remember a time when you didn’t care about anything except yourself.”
“Don’t change the subject.”
“I care about you, too, Khyven. We’re… family now. You and me, Slayter and Lorelle and Rhenn.”
“Then you’ll stay?” Khyven said, hoping for a moment.
“Don’t be silly. I’m going.”
“No!”
He chuckled. “It’s sweet. Really. I think you would stand as a shield between everyone you love and a horde of Giants if you had to, but you sometimes miss the obvious.”
“What’s the obvious?”
Vohn turned and looked up at Khyven. He felt like he was supposed to get something from the gesture, but he didn’t know what.
Khyven frowned. He hated it when Vohn did this. The Shadowvar would sometimes just stand there like the answer was obvious and wait for Khyven to put it together. All it usually did was make Khyven angry. Like now.
“What?” Khyven growled.
“Look at me.”
Khyven glanced up and down at the Shadowvar. He stood about five feet tall with midnight black skin and milk white horns.
“What am I supposed to be getting from this?”
“I’m Shadowborn.”
That was the first time Khyven had heard that term.
“I thought you were a Shadowvar,” he said.
“Of course I am.”
Khyven sighed in frustration. “Then what does that mean? Shadowborn versus Shadowvar?” he chewed the words out.
“It means my race was created to live in the shadows. When the Giants altered the races, they altered some to specifically live in the noktum. These were called Shadowborn. I can vanish in shadows, provided my horns are covered. My skin is as black as jet. Did you think that was coincidence?”
“I don’t know. I assumed you were just a different race, like Lorelle. You both have powers.”
“Lorelle is a Luminent. She is not Shadowborn. But the Nox are. Like me. You talk of entering this wild noktum where we won’t know anything. There are… things that only Shadowborn can feel in the noktum. Who do you think helped Rhenn chart our noktum?”
Khyven cocked his head.
“My point is that I can certainly help you. You see me as a liability, but I’m an asset you desperately need.”
* * *
Khyven hadn’t had a response for that. On the surface, it made sense, so he had reluctantly acquiesced and brought Vohn along. But even then he’d felt, deep down, as certainly as he knew danger was coming when a spear of blue wind flew at him, that it was a bad idea to bring Vohn.
Now he sprinted along the edge of the trees, trying to outrace the fire that was consuming the forest, heading toward a place where there was barely a sliver of hope to find help. Most likely he’d find more danger and another opportunity to fight for his life, in the hopes that he might somehow save the little Shadowvar’s life.
Slayter limped behind him, barely keeping up. “I’ve made sure—” he huffed “—the blood won’t… leave his body…”
The mage had cast a spell upon Vohn the moment they’d realized the wound was mortal. Slayter had maintained over and over that he was not a healer. Magic and healing didn’t go hand in hand unless that was the specific type of magic a person learned, called Life Magic. But Line Magic, the kind of magic Slayter practiced, could do a little bit of everything, just weaker than other types.
In essence, Slayter was a magical jack-of-all-trades.
“It won’t… heal him…—”Slayter huffed “—it’ll just… keep his blood… in his body… for a while.”
The fire roared to their left, spreading across the leaves like it was chasing them. One of the trees exploded and Khyven turned his body, shielding Vohn. That was the second one he’d seen do that. He wondered what these trees of the Great Noktum were made of that caused them to explode when exposed to fire.
“That’s…—” Slayter huffed “—fascinating… Why… do you think… they do that?”
“Run, Slayter,” Khyven growled. Vohn had gone completely limp.
They cleared the edge of the woods and it opened into a city at least as large as the crown city of Usara.
It was destroyed.
Everything was burned. Some of the houses had already been reduced to smoldering bits of char, while some still flamed like giant torches.
“No…” Khyven murmured. If Lorelle was here, odds were she was as charred as these buildings. He slowed to a walk, looking for something, anything, that might give him hope.
Slayter finally caught up. “Senji’s Boots—” he huffed “—the city… That was fast. But then… dragon fire burns hotter… than other fire.”
Khyven looked at the fire and smoldering ruins. Charred corpses lay everywhere. He searched for a single soul who had survived, but they all seemed dead.
A flicker of movement caught his eye, and he squinted. At first glance, he didn’t see anything, but then it moved again. It was… someone… moving over the remains of a small house. Only charred spears of wood and smoking ash remained where the building had once been. Khyven could see the skeletal remains of several figures in the fire.
The man was cloaked… a cloak that seemed part of the darkness. Only the man’s head and boots were visible, but Khyven recognized him.
He was the Nox. Lorelle’s Nox.
“You!” Khyven handed Vohn over to Slayter, who grunted under the weight.
“Khyven, what’s happening?” Slayter asked.
“That’s the one,” Khyven said. “The Nox who stole Lorelle. The one who started this entire thing.”
“Khyven the Unkillable,” the dead-eyed Nox said, seeming to notice them for the first time. “You have surprised me. Well done.” His voice lacked all emotion, as though his soul had been leached from him. “I am Zaith D’Orphine, First Glimmerblade of the Nox of Arvak.”
“I don’t care,” Khyven growled. “Where is Lorelle?”
Zaith looked back at the charred corpses, then into the distance toward some other part of the city. “In our culture—” he seemed to be talking to himself “—when someone sneaks up on you, it is the responsibility of the surprised to introduce themselves…” He glanced at Khyven.
“Where is Lorelle!”
“She loosed a dragon,” Zaith continued as though he wasn’t listening to Khyven. “We both did. And now everyone I love is dead.”
“Where is she?”
“Everyone I love is dead,” he said with emphasis, turning his dull gaze on Khyven. “She was in the palace,” Zaith said, “with Aravelle. It was the first place the dragon attacked.”
It felt like a spear had plunged into Khyven’s heart. He couldn’t breathe.
“What… did you do?” Khyven said through his teeth.
“Everything. I did everything. I served my people. I followed the will of the Lords. I took Lorelle to the dragon’s lair as I was commanded. And I failed.”
“You brought her here to die…” Khyven put his hand on his steel sword.
“Khyven wait,” Slayter said.
Zaith turned, and his dead eyes flickered with life. “I brought her here to live, Khyven the Unkillable. You had yet to see her alive, but I did. She was never yours. She was a Nox, body and soul. She was dying under your seemingly well-meaning demands, your constructions, your ignorance. You were killing her because you had no idea what she needed. Because you’re only… Human.” He bared his white teeth. “Blind, uncomprehending, and stupid.”
Khyven drew his sword.
“Yes,” Zaith breathed, and a blade appeared in his hand, the same blade that had tasted Khyven’s blood in the Usaran palace. It glowed like a shaft of moonlight. “Come, Khyven the Unkillable. Let me show you just how ignorant you are. Let me strip that ridiculous nickname from you at long last.”
Khyven’s heart began to pound, and the blue wind swirled around him and Zaith. It had only begun to form when three spears launched at him. Khyven spun as he dodged the first two and put his sword in front of the third.
Zaith’s hidden dagger tore through Khyven’s shirt, missing his flesh by an inch, and his moonlight sword clanged against Khyven’s, deflected.
Khyven roared, grabbed Zaith’s head, and brought his knee up—
The man vanished, and Khyven’s knee swept through empty shadows.
Khyven’s lesson from his fight with Txomin rose in his mind. The Nox was a master of the shadows, could disappear and reappear at will. Khyven would never see him coming.
But Khyven didn’t need to see.
He closed his eyes and focused on the blue wind.
A single spear lanced at his back from the shadows, so fast that if Khyven hadn’t closed his eyes instantly he would have died.
He twisted, bringing his sword around in the same motion and slamming into the lance of blue, even as he opened his eyes again. Steel clanged and the Nox grunted. Khyven’s block, delivered with every ounce of his strength, sent the Nox flying a dozen paces away. The agile Nox tumbled and came to his feet, but Khyven leapt after, not giving him time to recover.
Zaith threw up a hasty parry as Khyven struck. A spear of blue came at him, which he dodged, and two blue funnels appeared on Zaith, a light one at his shoulder, and a dark one in the center of his chest.
Khyven struck—
Zaith vanished.
Khyven closed his eyes and “saw” a big blue funnel ten feet behind him. He spun, drew, and threw his dagger with unerring accuracy.
Zaith grunted. Khyven opened his eyes to see his dagger in the meat of Zaith’s thigh. The Nox fell to the grass, clutching his leg.
“How…?” Zaith murmured. “It’s not possible. No Human could…” he trailed off, and his eyes widened. “That wasn’t luck,” he whispered. “Not twice. You’re doing that on purpose. You… have control of it.” The Nox glanced at Slayter, as though the mage might be the reason. Slayter, who had finally laid Vohn in the grass, was hastily clicking through his clay coins, obviously looking for the right spell.
Khyven stalked Zaith and drew another dagger.
“Tell me Lorelle is alive,” Khyven growled.
Zaith stared at Khyven in wonder, not fear. “You’re the one,” the Nox whispered. “You’re the Greatblood…”
“I’m the what?”
“It’s not the queen. He’s looking for the wrong Human. The Betrayer fooled Him… by taking the queen. You’re the one he wants… And you’re right here!”
If this fight had been in the Night Ring just six months ago, Khyven would have cut the man’s soliloquy short by lopping off his head, but Khyven hesitated. Something warned him that this Nox was saying something important, even if Khyven didn’t understand it.
“What are you talking about?”
Zaith glanced at his ruined city, at the rubble of the house that, Khyven guessed, had contained his family. The Nox’s gaze hardened and he looked back at Khyven.
“Don’t tell Him,” Zaith said in a hoarse voice.
“Tell who what?”
“Lord Tovos. It’s you He wants, but He doesn’t know it. If you show Him, he’ll kill you. He only wanted Lorelle because he thought the queen was a Greatblood.”
Khyven stuck the point of his sword into the clasp that held the Nox’s cloak and twisted. The catch snapped and the cloak slid to the ground like falling water.
Let’s see the nimble jackrabbit hop around without his favorite toy, Khyven thought.
“Make. Sense,” Khyven commanded. Lord Tovos. That was the Giant Rauvelos had said had most likely sent this Nox to grab Lorelle. But here the Nox was telling Khyven to keep something hidden from his master.
Zaith glanced at the cloak on the ground, then back up. The tough bastard still didn’t look afraid. “Well played, Khyven the Unkillable,” he said. He let his sword fall on top of the cloak and held up his hands. “Strike quick but remember what I told you. If you value your life and the lives of all those you love, don’t use your magic on the Lord.”
Khyven let the point of his sword linger at Zaith’s throat. No spears of blue came at Khyven, and the man’s body was a forest of blue funnels.
“What is a Greatblood?” Khyven pushed the point gently into the skin below Zaith’s throat. A dot of blood welled up. Zaith stared at Khyven with the eyes of a man ready to die. Still no fear.
“Khyven!” A familiar voice broke the silence. He jerked his head up.
A slender Nox woman in a short dress stood on the rise behind Zaith, a single lock of golden hair blazing at her brow.
Chapter Forty-four
Lorelle
Lorelle woke, disoriented. Her ears rang. Her cheek pressed against the warm marble floor. With a groan, she blinked and raised her head. Smoke hung in wisps amongst the shadows just outside the palace. Flames raged around her, but miraculously, she lay in a spot that wasn’t burning.
She shook her head, trying to remember where she was and what had happened.
She was in the Great Noktum. In Nox Arvak, in the palace. The dragon had attacked. Zaith… He’d sent her to protect…
“Aravelle!” Lorelle shouted and cast about. It all came back to her now. She’d sprinted into the palace when the dragon attacked. Miraculously, amidst the chaos, she’d actually found Aravelle in her library. She’d flung herself and Aravelle out the window just before an explosion of fire.
She sat up, blinking. Smoke stung her eyes. She couldn’t see clearly, and she could barely breathe.
She crawled about in the smoke, hands groping. Her hand fell on warm flesh. Lorelle scrambled over, coughing as she looked down at the half-burned form of Aravelle. The old Nox had sustained burns on the right side of her body, all along her right arm and leg, and on her right cheek.
“No…” Lorelle murmured. “Please no.”
The old Nox moved. She was still breathing!
“Just stay still, Aravelle.” Lorelle reached for her healing satchel—
Only to remember she didn’t have it. She was wearing only the short black dress given to her for the celebration. All she had was the slim pouch with the Plunnos. She’d even left her slippers back in the woods.
She had to get back to her room, to the box that held her healer’s kit.
“I have—” she coughed “—something that will help you.” Stars appeared in her vision as the thick smoke choked her. She and Aravelle couldn’t stay here much longer. She had to get the old Nox to safety.
She slipped her arms carefully beneath Aravelle’s knees and her frail shoulders—
Aravelle’s unburned hand grasped Lorelle’s arm like a claw. The old woman’s gummy eyes struggled open.
“Dear child…” she whispered. “I’m sorry… So sorry…”
“It’s all right,” Lorelle said. “I’ll get you to safety. Just hold on.” She braced herself to lift the old Nox, but Aravelle let go of her arm and placed her hand alongside Lorelle’s temple. Her thumb swiped gently across the center of Lorelle’s forehead. A tingle swept through Lorelle and the golden lock of hair at her brow glowed.
“The Lord comes…” she said weakly. “Run, child… I think… maybe we were wrong to bring you here. Perhaps we were wrong… But perhaps… you could escape… if you run…”
“We’re both getting out of here.”
“Run, child… Run now…” Aravelle let out a long breath and closed her eyes.
“Aravelle?” Lorelle said.
The old Nox stopped breathing.
“Aravelle!”
The tingle the old woman had infused into her slowly changed to a warm, intimate knowing. Lorelle felt the rush of the Dark inside her and all around her, the shadows intermingling with the smoke.
And someone was moving through those shadows.
The Lord comes…
She coughed, covering her mouth with her arm and reaching for her dagger—
Except she didn’t have that, either.
Run, child… Run now…
She belatedly took Aravelle’s advice and leapt to her feet—
The smoke fell to the ground like black sand.
An enormous man towered over her.
“Lotura…” she murmured. The man stood well over ten feet tall. A Giant! Gods, he was a Giant!
He had angry, slanted eyes beneath angry, slanted eyebrows. His skin was pale like a Usaran. His black clothes fitted tightly to his body, a black scale mail shirt ending in a thick black belt and black pants tucked into knee-high black boots.
“Well, it appears they were all traitors.” The Giant stepped forward and stamped hard on Aravelle’s chest, crushing the woman beneath his enormous foot, which was nearly as large as she was.
“Aravelle!” Lorelle screamed.
“I was hoping to do this in secret, but I am done waiting. The Glimmerblade failed me, and this will have to do,” the Giant said, looking over her head as though he could see something far away.
Lorelle cursed herself for leaving all her weapons behind. Couldn’t she have at least strapped a dagger to her waist?
She flicked a glance at Aravelle’s body. Did the old Nox have any weapons? No. There were only pouches.
Lorelle’s gaze came to rest on the belt of the Giant. There were plenty of weapons there. The Giant wore a sword across his back that no Luminent or Human could even lift, but he also had a short sword on his left hip that looked the same size as Khyven’s longsword and a dagger on his right hip that was almost as long as Lorelle’s arm. That she could use.
She let the Dark flow into her, imagined herself floating on it like a boat on a river. She vanished into the crooked shadow behind her, flitted quickly and fluidly to another shadow, then to another, circling the Giant and emerging behind him. Quick as a thought, she yanked the sword-sized dagger from his belt and slashed around to the other side, intending to cut into the Giant’s hamstring, bring him down to her level—
