Chapter 24

CHAPTER24

Lore refused to stay any longer. She’d already talked with Algor. He’d understood her need to move and was very kind in providing them with a few enchanted packs to take with them. Lore already had her and Abraxas’s new armor packed away in it, and she’d never know the bag wasn’t empty.

Handy, having dwarves around. She would miss them quite a bit.

Still, she had to get her head on straight now. The dwarves were easy to bargain with. They were unlikely to be sneaky about what they wanted or what they would do to get that.

In this case, she’d already promised Algor a boon. He hadn’t said what he wanted, only that the Fallen Star would help them when they needed it. Whether that was in a few years, or a few centuries. As long as Lore was alive, she would come when the dwarves needed her.

It was an easy promise to make.

She’d have done anything for them, especially considering they were Goliath’s relatives. Even being around them reminded her so much of her dear friend, and it soothed some ache in her soul that desperately needed to be soothed.

Their humor, the way they moved, how they laughed in the face of danger, as though living in this place wasn’t terrifying at all. Everything made her remember a time when she’d lived across from a dwarf who painted a rising sun on his window because he didn’t care if others saw it.

With a soft smile on her face at the memories, she opened the door to their private chambers. They’d added Zephyr now that he was feeling a little better, though not by much.

Two days wasn’t enough for him to heal. Two days and he still could barely walk.

Lore couldn’t use her power here, at least not in the way she wanted. The strength of the spell she’d have to conjure to heal him would let Margaret know exactly where they were. And they still hadn’t figured out the poison that he’d been given, so they couldn’t get him up on his feet without fearing that he might fall over.

Pushing his body when there was poison in his veins was sure to speed up the effects of whatever herb or potion he’d been given.

Still, it was good to see him awake. She leaned against the door jamb and watched the three of them talk. Abraxas was telling a story from the dragon isles, his hands animated as he wove his tale. Beauty rested snug against Zephyr’s shoulder, holding his hand as she laughed at the dragon’s antics. Even Zephyr, pale faced and still slightly shaking, had a smile on his face at the story.

Her dragon was always making sure that everyone was as happy as they could be, she mused. Abraxas would stop at nothing to make sure that his companions were well taken care of. But, oh, it made her heart hurt to see them all like this. As though nothing had happened.

The darkness crept back into her mind. Memories floating in front of her. Zephyr’s body limp on the ground. The elf kicking him, threatening him with worse torture and saying no one would ever come for him. Goliath’s body laid out on the ground with a heavy mace stuck through his chest. Draven under a siren’s spell because she hadn’t anticipated that her friend would attack him like that. Beauty, too thin and gaunt with ash on her cheeks and no home to return to.

Abraxas. Poor Abraxas with a pale face, too thin, certain that she had been dead and so he would follow her into that oblivion.

They all relied on her and she had failed them time and time again. No more. She wouldn’t fail them ever again, even if that meant she had to crush this kingdom underneath her heel.

“We’re leaving,” she said, breaking the spell of happiness that Abraxas had woven around them.

The three of her companions froze and then looked at her. None of them seemed to know what to say until Abraxas cleared his throat.

“Now?” he asked.

“Right now.”

Beauty struggled to fling her legs over the bed, making sure she didn’t touch Zephyr too much in the process. “I’ll pack our things up, then. Give me an hour or two?”

Shaking her head, Lore pointed in the corner where three packs already waited for them. “I did that this morning. You were all still asleep.”

“Oh.” Beauty frowned. “So you knew we were leaving today, and you didn’t tell us?”

Maybe she should have told them in the morning, but there was so much for her to do before they could head out. “I didn’t want to worry you,” she tried to explain. Even Lore knew they were empty words. So she gestured between the three of them as though conjuring back the happiness that had been there only moments before. “I didn’t want to stop that from happening. You all need it.”

“So do you,” Zephyr replied.

It was the first time he’d talked with her since she’d saved him. The first time he’d been able to look her in the eye without getting watery.

Lore held his gaze, forcing him to feel the moment they connected. She needed him to be strong right now, even though he’d had to be strong for far too long.

And now that he’d healed for two days, he could hold her gaze without flinching.

“Good,” she said, and the two of them knew it wasn’t in response to what he’d said. “Get your packs. Zephyr, you’re not walking. Abraxas will carry you.”

“I can walk,” Zephyr protested, then froze when she leveled him with a glare.

“Either I will carry you, or Abraxas will carry you,” she said. “It’s your choice.”

Grumbling under his breath, Zephyr took his time getting his feet on the floor. Even that little movement made him breathless, though. Finally, he jerked his chin toward Abraxas. “It’ll be less humiliating if a dragon carries me.”

She’d admit he was right. The prince of these lands had been infected with poison, beaten within an inch of his life, and still wasn’t anywhere near the healthy point he should be able. Stubborn arrogance would not be his downfall today. Not on her watch.

After that, it took very little time at all for her three companions to ready themselves and get moving. They stepped out of the dwarven stronghold and into the bright light of the sun. And as Lore paused behind them, the last of their party to leave, she felt her entire body clench at the sight of so few people who stood with her now.

She remembered how chaotic it had been with everyone traveling together. How Goliath had poked at Draven and Abraxas while they bickered like two children. And now? Now their party was quiet as they approached the cold edge of the forest. So fathomless, so dark, it was almost as though she looked into the depths of the sea.

Beyond those trees, the deepmongers waited. The Ashen Deep. The elves who had very much denied her and the last time she’d been in this forest, they’d tried to imprison her.

But then they had fought by her side against the king. The Matriarch had proven herself still worthy of the name as she’d whirled through the Umbral Soldiers, her blades that screamed for souls in her hands. They were the few that could wield those blades.

Lore was not looking forward to their temptation once again. The whispers were terrifying. They called to a part of her soul that wanted power more than it wanted anything else.

A little shiver wracked through her body before she let it go. “Come on,” she muttered. “We’ll never get there at this pace.”

Lore plunged into the waiting darkness and hated the cold, clinging dampness that enveloped her. That magic was likely protecting the forest and letting the deepmongers know when someone had entered their kingdom. Even Margaret wouldn’t be so foolish as to stride in here without at least requesting an audience.

The only fools who would do so were Lore and her companions, she had a feeling.

They walked in silence for a few hours, going deeper and deeper into the woods. Lore’s feet slid on the mossy ground. Not an inch wasn’t covered by some kind of moss or algae. Even the trees were a strange, dark color. They weren’t right, or at least the same kind of trees that one would see anywhere else in the kingdom. They moved at the edges of her vision, stretching away from her as though even they were frightened of what had walked into their midst.

“Lore?” Beauty asked, her voice little more than a whisper. “Do you know where we’re going?”

“I don’t need to.” Lore turned her face up to stare at the dark canopy over their head. Not a single ray of light penetrated those leaves, and yet they could somehow see. A silvery light trailed through the forest around them, catching on every glimmering dewdrop on each leaf, petal, or moss.

“You don’t need to?” Beauty repeated, her brow furrowing in confusion. “Why?”

“Because they’ll find us.” She turned her attention toward a particular line of trees whose roots were higher than the rest. And then she pointed up to that line, to a small hill that rose in the distance. “In fact, I think they already have.”

At her words, a line of elven warriors appeared from behind trees and hidden in the shadows. Their black armor glimmered in the dim light like slick oil. Their skin had been given a similar treatment, darkening their already deep skin tone into something that was almost difficult to see. But she’d seen the flash of their weapons and heard the familiar whispers of blades that wanted Lore to use them. She could make the world tremble, and they wanted to feel its heart beat, those blades whispered.

Three deepmongers approached them. Their white hair was twisted on top of their heads in intricate braids, appearing almost like crowns. But the woman between the two men wore an actual crown, and Lore knew better than to stare at the obsidian gemstones for too long.

Sinking down onto a knee, she kept her gaze on the ground as she honored the Matriarch before her. “It has been a long time, deepmonger.”

“I thought we had seen the last of you.” The Matriarch’s liquid voice had hardened with hatred. “You are supposed to be dead.”

“I did not remain dead for very long. A mere six months to convene with my ancestors, and to learn from the mothers before me.” Lore looked up and met the other woman’s dead eyed stare. “A feat I have a feeling you are quite familiar with.”

If her instincts were correct, the Matriarch’s lineage was very similar to Lore’s own. While Lore’s mothers passed down their magic to her, the Matriarch could convene with those who came before her and use their knowledge as her own. They were not so different, if only in power.

The Matriarch tilted her head to the side and bared her teeth in a snarl. “So that is what the prophecy referred to, then. You are the power of our mothers.”

“Generations of women who have lost.” Lore stood and dusted off her knees. “And years of heartbreak all rolled into one person. I am here to put an end to that.”

A sharp tsk echoed through the clearing. The two young men on either side of the Matriarch reached for the weapons at their hips, but did not draw them when Abraxas gave an answering snarl. Instead, they turned their attention back to their mother, who had not moved other than to make her sound of disgust.

The Matriarch stepped closer, her hand outstretched to cup Lore’s jaw. “You are not the generations of pain felt by our people, nor are you worthy of their power.” Her hand clenched, long fingernails biting into Lore’s skin. “Now, self proclaimed goddess, where is my son?”

Ah. Of course.

Lore had forgotten that the Matriarch likely thought Lore had stolen him away. Or that she’d killed Draven. It was always a possibility in their line of work. Or that her son had died protecting the one creature that the Matriarch did not like.

They might have fought beside each other, but that did not mean the woman in front of her trusted her. Not at all.

Lore sighed and endured the pain on her jaw and cheek. “He is alive and well on the dragon isle.”

“Why did he not return?”

Draven had given her a message for his mother, although Lore had forgotten about it until this moment. “He said to tell you he’d found his blade in the shadows, but it must first be tempered. Honestly, he went on a very long time about making a knife and all the stages that he needed to wait for, but apparently that was something you would understand. I don’t know what any of it means.”

The Matriarch dropped her hand as though Lore had burned her. “Truly? He said all that?”

Lore gave her a wry grin while testing the new holes in her face. “Would I say something so truly random otherwise? I have no idea what any of that means, Matriarch. But you do.”

The woman pressed a shaking hand to her lips and stared at her two other sons. They both looked lost, or perhaps shocked. And none of the family had anything to say until the Matriarch nodded.

“Well, if what you speak is true, then that changes things.”

Lore glanced behind her with a frown to see Abraxas making a similar expression. “Why does that change things?”

“Who is she?” The Matriarch asked. “Who is this blade that has buried itself in my son’s heart?”

Draven was fine. What was his mother going on about? Lore had just told her that he was alive and well and still on the island...

Ah.

Oh.

Lore looked over her shoulder again to see Abraxas’s expression had turned furious. His skin flashed back and forth between mortal and scaled, and even Zephyr looked a little frightened to be in his arms.

Her dragon pulled himself together just enough to snarl, “My daughter.”

Silence stretched between them all, tenuous and far too brittle until the Matriarch let out a sound that was almost a giggle.

Lore’s eyebrows flew up as she turned to see, stunned, that the Matriarch was laughing. The woman even snorted before she looked at her sons, who then lost it as well. All three of the family couldn’t stop laughing until their mother wiped a finger underneath her eye, catching the tears that had gathered there.

“Of all the people he could have chosen, of course my son waits for a dragon. Ah, Abraxas, I am sorry for it. First, he tries to steal your mate and now he steals your daughter. That boy of mine has a death wish.”

“Indeed he does,” Abraxas growled, but there was a lightness to his tone.

Lore assumed that meant all was... well? Enough so that she could breathe, at least. No one would try to kill them, for the time being, and that meant that the deepmongers were not ones she had to worry about.

“Draven has a taste for the dangerous,” Lore said, her shoulders relaxing and the knot in the center of her chest loosening. “Although, I will admit, Nyx is one of the most beautiful young women I’ve ever seen.”

“And she is your daughter, as well?” The Matriarch asked.

“I claim her to be.”

“Then she will be foolish and heavy-handed, I can only imagine. It sounds as though the two of us will be tied together in more than just duty or honor.” The Matriarch waved a hand for them to follow her. “Come. I can see there is one in your company who needs healing.”

“And rest,” Lore added.

“Such cannot be denied. You all reek of dwarf, half elf. You’ll bathe before entering my home.”

And so Lore and her companions followed the Ashen Deep back into the earth once more.