Chapter 42

42

T he shot was blindingly bright, and the subsequent explosion threw Eira back with the rest of the Pillars and those who were battling against them. Ice clattered across the cobblestones. Eira twisted, her toes curled, muscles in her legs tensing as she got them under her. She blinked away the blue haze left behind from the shot, looking to where Ulvarth once stood.

The man had been thrown to the side, landing atop some poor, unsuspecting Pillars. They were bloody and crushed beneath him from the force of his heavy plate. The same plate that was now shattered and scattered across the ground.

It had worked .

Allun’s magic had been strong enough to counter itself. A shot from the pistol was enough to shatter the armor. Not enough to kill the man, it’d seem—which made the armor even more impressive. A shame that it had to be destroyed.

Eira pushed herself up, ignoring the aches in her arms and legs. The day, and then some, was starting to hit her. But she’d turn herself into a frozen marionette and let the ice move her before she allowed him to get the best of her. A quick scan of the buildings to her left resulted in her being unable to locate Yonlin’s vantage. But that was the least of her concerns. It was time to end it.

Just when she was about to take advantage of Ulvarth’s prone state, a whisper from behind had her pivoting. A Pillar—Lightspinner—was there, the words for slumber half-formed. In a blink she had a dagger in the side of his face, sticking out the other side. She’d been going for his throat, but another Pillar had pummeled into her, sending her off-balance. If not for the thick ice around her boots, she would’ve lost her footing.

They descended on her like sharks on chum.

Magic crackled through the air. Blow after blow was dodged. Eira summoned walls of ice and left daggers and swords through appendages rather than taking the time to withdraw them—it was faster to summon another instead.

But there were so many. More than she remembered. Where was Taavin? The army? Her fellow pirates?

The sun was blotted out by smoke and frosty haze. The world was awash in gray. Somehow, her ragged breaths were louder than the clanking armor of the Swords of Light and swishing fabric. Hot blood splattered against her, contrasting with the cold numbness of the magic within her.

There was movement from Ulvarth, behind her now. She tried to twist and turn, to get to him, but only managed to capture glimpses of the Pillars assisting him. They frantically tried to strap his armor back together. To usher him away.

“Ulvarth!” Eira screamed. “Coward!” She placed her hand on the sheathed dagger, ready to draw it from her thigh. But would her desperate plan work? “Face me!” Eira shoved another icy blade into a different gut. She fought to get to Ulvarth. To carve her way through the writhing mass of bodies that had coagulated into a single monstrosity that was trying to hold her back and push her down. To strike and strike and strike her until she lay broken.

She would not break.

She would be the rock the waves broke around. She would be the current that would rip them out to sea and pull them under. She was Adela’s heir—her legacy. And legacies were immortal.

Ice shot out from her with a scream that pierced the heavens. Eira froze the men and women around her in their places. She pushed past the frozen statues, only to be struck by a glyph that knocked her over.

They were on her before she could get up. Hands and feet. Blades.

She would submit . Or give in. Or give up.

Sweat and blood rolling off her cheeks, she fought to gain purchase. One knee bent, enough to push off with. Twisting and using momentum to bring someone else down and spring away. A blade plunged through her shoulder, ripping out flesh and another scream.

Eira grabbed the weapon jutting from her front. Ice shot through the blade, freezing the man behind her. Killing him. Gritting her teeth, she pushed the blade through.

Fire blazed overhead. It was fueled by currents of wind to the point that the flames were more white and blue than gold and red. Like tornadoes made of flames, the cloud descended onto Pillars.

She inhaled sharply. For a second, in the blaze, she could’ve sworn she saw the outline of a familiar woman. It was as if Noelle rose once more, blazing ever brighter, even when all seemed lost.

Eira righted herself and turned to the source.

There, down the slope of the main street, was the Solaris army. At their lead were Aldrik, Vi, Vhalla, and Cullen. The latter two were lending their wind to the former. Relief hit her like exhaustion, and Eira sagged. A smile curled her lips and her eyes met Cullen’s.

They shared a breath. A moment of gratitude…and of understanding. She looked over her shoulder and then back to him. He gave a solemn nod.

I have to go , she said without words.

I know , he replied.

She could hear him in every beat of her heart. Feel his presence like the wind tangling in her hair—blazing and frozen. Eira gave him one more beat of her heart. One more second when she wasn’t sure if she was saying Thank you or I love you or Goodbye .

The corner of his mouth quirked up. Somehow, she read even that: I know; it’s all right . A chuckle escaped her. Brief. Little more than a sigh.

Then, she turned.

Fire and Lightspinning glyphs exploded around her. The Pillars who tried to move for her tore at their throats, faces turning purple as Cullen stole their air. Eira finally broke free of the writhing mass of death and escaped through the narrow alleyways of Risen.

She followed a trail of blood that went toward the river. It was roughly the direction Ulvarth had limped off in. But, more than that, she couldn’t imagine where else a coward like him would go. He wouldn’t return to the Archives—not with them compromised. There was nowhere else in Risen that would be safe. He could be planning on running down the river, perhaps all the way to Ofok, where he could regroup with help from Carsovia.

Unfortunate for him that his best chance gave her an advantage. He was running right to the arena that would be of Eira’s choosing—somewhere with ample water. He’d know it, too, which meant he’d have to be fast about it.

Breaking free of endless buildings framing her sides, Eira burst into the afternoon sunlight. The sounds of the combat behind her were little more than a whisper now. Her pace slowed, an overwhelming sense of nostalgia hitting her.

With a turn of her head, she was faced with the building that had first housed the champions upon their arrival in Meru, while Risen was still in lockdown. It was strange to see the building still standing. Part of her had expected it to be destroyed alongside everything else that had once been a part of the tournament. But…this was different.

She shifted her weight and her attention. The line of blood droplets she’d been following continued off to the left. It wrapped around a building and out of sight, no doubt continuing to the water and a boat that Eira was certain would be there.

But something… something kept her from following it. Her focus returned to that stately manor house. The place where she’d first met the Court of Shadows. Where she’d found the dagger.

Yewin .

Eira hadn’t thought of the woman in ages. She’d first met her as Mistress Harrot, the kindly, if a little bit strange, matron of the manor they were staying in. But then Eira had learned of Yewin’s past. Her association with Ulvarth and that she had been Ferro’s birth mother. The woman was loyal to a fault.

Eira started for the manor house.

If she was wrong…Ulvarth would get away. If he had fled on a waiting vessel, he could be anywhere along the river. He’d know she could use her magic to catch up, so he’d no doubt stop off at any point. Switch boats before she could see. Any number of possibilities.

Yet, none of them compelled her to follow that blood trail. It felt too…easy. Too predictable. And, more than anything, it wasn’t flashy enough. Ulvarth was a showman. He loved a narrative, and what was a more poetic ending then their final showdown being in the place where his challenge had been laid months ago?

The door was ajar, like an invitation.

Eira let herself inside.

An invisible battalion of memories assaulted her. The manor was exactly as she remembered. Smudges clung to the banister from where everyone dragged their hands over as they went downstairs for meals. The still air was filled with the smells of the elfin’s incense and oils, mingling with the perfumes of the Twilight Kingdom. Even a chest had been left behind in the entry. Forgotten in the haste of leaving for the Champion’s Village.

Time had stopped here. If she closed her eyes, she could force herself back into those hours whittled away strolling the gardens and pacing the halls. Jumping at shadows, literal and metaphorical.

She still remembered every creak of the stairs. Every step she could confidently place her weight on, and which ones would groan if she put her foot in the center rather than one of the struts. The door to what had once been the Solaris quarters was open.

Had they closed it when they’d left? She couldn’t remember. She halted, straining her ears and her magic, listening across the echoes that lingered in the house. There were voices on voices…but none were Ulvarth. Not from these walls, at least.

Bracing herself and drawing her magic, Eira rounded the doorframe.

He stood at the far back of the room, arms folded behind his back. Armor was still strapped in pieces to his body. Eira didn’t know if it was fully useless, broken as it was, or not. But, at the least, there were obvious faults for her to strike first.

Ulvarth turned slowly. His features were barely visible against the light streaming around him. Yet, she could feel the moment their eyes locked. Just as she had earlier.

“I’ve begun to think that you’re right.” The words startled her. Eira flinched, drawing an ice dagger into her palm, stance sinking. “You and I are bound by Yargen’s red lines of fate.”

“Then I will be glad of my destiny to kill you.”

“No, Eira…you will be but another to fall. I will see they paint you as a coward when your body is never found. Meru will never know the truth. All they will have are my stories, and they will curse your name for centuries to come as the woman who tried to kill the Champion and failed.” His words were little more than glancing blows, falling harmlessly around her feet. Eira kept her focus. He was stalling…but for what? Reinforcements, likely. She needed to strike. “Everyone you once held dear will?—”

The second he began speaking again, Eira lunged toward him. At the same time, movement registered in the corner of her left eye.

Pivoting, she threw herself off-balance, avoiding the strike from the new assailant. A needle-point dagger whizzed by her shoulder—the strike having been intended for the middle of her back. There was a living shadow behind her. Plumes of smoke radiated off its shoulders as though it were a nightmarish figment of a shift user’s creation.

No…not a living shadow .

Eira’s eyes widened. Harrot—Yewin . The woman was covered head to toe in soot from the hearth. She’d coated herself in it to blend in with the darkened stones. Small wonder Eira had missed her on entry.

Her boot scraped across the floor as Eira recovered her balance from the dodge. Shifting her grip on her dagger, Eira reached for Yewin’s throat with her other hand. The wiry woman was easy to subdue. Eira positioned herself behind Yewin, her dagger point pressing into the woman’s throat.

“Clever, I grant you,” she snarled. “But did you honestly think that would be enough to kill me?”

Ulvarth’s smile was a wicked crescent, gleaming brighter than his eyes. “Yes.”

Eira tightened her hold on the woman. “Take off your armor, now. Or she dies.”

“You’re bleeding.” Ulvarth still hadn’t moved. His eyes were focused on Eira’s arm. Just below her shoulder was a small cut.

She didn’t care if she was or wasn’t. Eira didn’t ease her grip. “A mere drop of the blood spilled this day is nothing compared to what’s about to happen to you. Your armor. Now .”

His attention shifted from her cut to the woman Eira still held captive. “Well done, my love.”

“All it takes is a drop.” The words were an intentional mockery of Eira’s phrasing. Rasped, as they were through Eira’s grip.

“Fine. Then you both die.” Eira shifted her stance and readied her ice dagger for a strike.

It clattered to the floor.

The left side of her body was suddenly ablaze. Invisible flames ran across her skin. They engulfed her throat. Choking her.

Her magic raged against it. The initial instinct was to cool the phantom heat to the point of numbness. But Eira tried to resist it, instead channeling her focus to try and stop the blood flow to the area. It was worthless.

Poison .

“Bastard.” The word was as clumsy as her fall. Seizures wracked her and she unwillingly writhed on the floor.

Yewin loomed over her, once more a shadow in Eira’s softening gaze. “I gave you a choice. I begged you not to. But you killed him, you butchered him for them all to see.”

“He was…a monster,” Eira forced through her tightening jaw. Her whole body felt like it was on a loom, stretching and tightening with every turn of the wheel. “Like mother…like father…like son.” She didn’t regret killing Ferro for a second and never would.

Ulvarth strolled over as she spoke. His hand rested lightly on Yewin’s arm. The woman leaned to him, like a flower yearning for the sun.

“Let us end this, so we can return to building our glorious kingdom.”