Chapter 17

I was almost flying through the tight tunnels of the underground prison. This was Vazzart's domain, and he pulled me through it with a crackling, chaotic energy.

Cyrus waited for me above. The thought of seeing him again sparked a pulse inside of me, of hope and nervousness and maybe something deeper. It drove me to go even faster. I followed the thread of Vazzart's directive, right, then left, then down a long tunnel ending in a fork. I stopped at the split. I could feel the pull in both directions, equally as strong either way.

Vazzart had granted me use of my crown, so I used it. I closed my eyes, willing it to show me the two paths. First it followed the left-hand way, a long stretch that ultimately ended in a short stairway up to my grandmother's anteroom in Prime Hall. The door there was hidden by a large tapestry.

Then the crown showed me the right path, a curving tunnel that went on and on, following the wall of the reservoir. The way ended in an imposing metal door that opened into the control house of the dam.

My Grandmother would be in Prime Hall, keeping tabs on any fighting, but I needed to get to the field of battle. It was time to test the loyalty of the people of Greatfalls.

I moved as quickly as I could down the long passage. I reached the door, brown and green with rust and patina. I opened the lock, turned the handle, and pushed .

I stumbled forward into the lower level of the control house. I'd never been in there before, and from the looks of things, few people had. The room was piled with old equipment and tools for the maintenance of the dam. Above me, I could hear shouting and the sounds of battle.

I hurried to the top level, leaving the control house and finding myself on top of the wall, overlooking the field between the dam and the outer gates. Below, soldiers bearing the flaming insignia of Ashfuror fought with the clumsy swordsmen of Greatfalls.

My brother was a distance from the fighting, shouting commands from the edge of the fields, where the forest began. His face was red with fury and frustration. Things were not going well for Greatfalls, and it was his fault. To reassign half the Archers to hand to hand combat was beyond foolish. With a full complement of Archers, Cyrus could never have breached the outer wall in the first place.

The remaining Archers were stationed at the edges of the field as well as on the wall of the dam, to the right and left of me. They were not shooting. I stared at them for a long moment until it struck me. Athard had purposefully not given the command. He wanted victory to go to his infantry.

My mind boggled at his stupidity and ego.

Down by the gates, I caught glimpses of a figure, his crown alight with an intricate pattern of azure flame, weaving through the soldiers on horseback. Combatants threw themselves at him, attempting to unhorse him. As they did he held his hands out, and balls of blue energy sparked between his palms. He threw them at the soldiers, and when one hit them it pushed them back and off their feet. No one could even get close.

Cyrus was glorious. Now I had to do my part. As I'd done so many times, long before I knew the truth about my family and my city, back when it was only me and the good people under my command. I took in a breath and called to my Archers.

"Archers of Greatfalls, fall back!"

Everything stopped. The archers to my left and right who had been watching, who had been ordered not to fight, all turned to me and, after the smallest moment of indecision, kneeled as one. The infantry on the field that had once been Archers themselves turned and saw me on the wall. The soldiers of Ashfuror looked to me as well, because the Crown of Seeing sat shining atop my head.

"No! He is no longer your Commander!" Athard's voice came out as a strangled cry.

"Archers of Greatfalls, fall back!" It wasn't my voice this time. I turned to my left. Jelenna stood next to me, in defiance of Athard and of my grandmother. Her eyes met mine, and I saw guilt and sadness flash across her face. She reached out her arms, handing me my bow, my quiver, and my daggers. I'm sorry , she mouthed. I didn't reply.

I saw the pain in her eyes before she hid her reaction. It hurt my heart, but we didn't have time for me to learn why she'd done what she did. She understood that as well, yelling out to the Archers once more. "Fall back!"

"Soldiers of Ashfuror, fall back!" The echoing cry came from the other end of the battlefield. Cyrus was with me. We were bringing this battle to an end.

Like a wave hitting a causeway, the two forces separated. Cyrus' soldiers fell back to the gate, and the Archers retreated to the dam wall. They looked to me for guidance, ignoring my brother's yelling, which was growing more desperate.

I rushed down to the bottom of the dam wall as Cyrus rode to meet me on the field. We came together, two leaders of war who also happened to be Lords of Fyr. And husbands.

He swung off the back of his horse with a fluid grace that made my heart leap. He was recovered, fully fit and sporting a new accessory.

"Nice crown," I said. "Where'd you get it?"

Cyrus chuckled, deep and joyful, and hope sprung up in my chest. "Someone stole mine, so I had to get another one. Luckily, we had a few crowns kicking around in storage."

In my joy at seeing him, I'd forgotten that I'd been the cause of his trouble. "Sorry about that." It was flippant, maybe, but I meant it.

He stepped toward me, and my heartbeat sped up. How did the new crown make him even more handsome? The blue light reflected off his pale skin with an otherworldly glow.

"You're not going to try and kill me again, are you?" He had a smirk on his face, but I caught something in his eyes, a flash of hurt. I never wanted to be the cause of that ever again. I stepped forward, wrapping my arms around his waist. He didn't pull away.

"I didn't know. I...I thought I was doing what was best. I thought I was saving you."

"I know." His voice was low, now, only loud enough for the two of us to hear. The sweet odor of soap and leather made me desperate to be alone with him. "Manod told me what you did. How you bound yourself to the crown."

I didn't have a response. We needed more time, time to talk about all that had happened. I desperately hoped for that time.

"The one you wear is blue. Is it..."

"Yes, it belonged to one of the conquered Lords of Fyr. The Crown of Battle."

"You're a one man army!"

"It was made for war. It allows me to send out bursts of pure energy. I can shape them as I wish, blunt or sharp, wide or narrow. Stahkla decided that I should use it. I had really wanted the Crown of Diplomacy, but the god had other ideas."

I wondered for a moment what sacrifice the God of Fire and Metal had demanded of him, then pushed that aside. "Thank you for coming for me."

"Bertio was perched in the window of the hall when that ass knocked you out. I figured they must have you locked away somewhere." He breathed as he took me in, like he was trying to stamp the image of my face in his memory. "But I see you didn't need my help."

"I don't know if that's true."

A shock of warm liquid hit my left cheek. Reflexively, I touched my fingers to it. It was saliva.

"Betrayer!" My brother's voice rang out from a few feet away, full of petulant anger. "I should have known you couldn't finish the job. That you'd fall in love with our greatest enemy!"

Cyrus stepped forward, but put my hand on his arm to stop him. Athard was my responsibility, a problem that I had trusted in Grandmother to solve. Now that I saw the truth, it fell to me.

"I had always thought that you were the one that strayed from the love our parents taught us." I squared off my shoulders. "I was wrong. You followed in their murderous footsteps. You have no regard for the lives of others. You are nothing but a self-serving twit."

In a fit of temper, Athard reached for the pommel of his rapier. He pulled it out and took a fighting stance.

"Prepare."

One of his men approached me, handing me a rapier of my own. I felt the weight of the weapon in my hand, unfamiliar to me. I glared at Athard. Once again, he was expecting me to play by the rules, to bend to him, even as he sought to kill me.

I'm certain that if we were to duel in the old way of the nobles, rapier to rapier, that he would win. He had trained obsessively at the art of swordcraft for many years. He was a master.

But I was no longer his noble little brother, the one who always followed the rules. And this would not be a noble duel.

I tossed the rapier away and pulled a knife from my right side. As he brought the rapier down for the first strike, I parried it off to my left with my dagger. He took a step backward, recovering from the strength of the deflection.

With that, the fight was over before it had begun. I grabbed my second knife from my left side and thrust. The knife punctured his stomach, and he went down.

"You bastard." He curled around the wound, holding his fist against it to staunch the bleeding. "You have no honor. You were never fit to be Prime of Greatfalls. You weren't even fit to be Commander."

I bent over, grabbing his jaw roughly in my hand and lifting him up by it. "No. But I am more than fit to be the Dark Lord of Ashfuror."

I heard a deep tone, like an enormous bell, and the sound of fire crackling. Athard's face was illuminated in orange light. The Crown of Seeing had come to life of its own accord.

Athard's eyes grew wide, and he began to wail, the cry of a damned soul.

"No! Please, no, it's too much!" He started to shake, falling back to the ground as I released him from my grip. "No!"

With a great shudder and exhalation of air, he collapsed and went still.

"What...what happened?" I turned to Cyrus. Cyrus came to me, putting his hand on my back as I stared at the lifeless corpse of my brother.

"It is the Crown of Seeing. If Stahkla deems that someone has caused enough suffering, the god will use the crown to punish them. It has only happened twice since the crown has been in my possession. I do not know what they are shown. I only know that it is terrible."

We stood there in silence for what felt like an hour, but was probably only a few minutes. Athard had been my brother, and once, many years ago, we had been close, two orphans that leaned on each other for support.

But that person had been gone for many years, and the one in front of me didn't deserve any mercy.

"Skye!"

Jelenna burst out of the copse of trees at the edge of the field, running at a sprint. "Skye! You have to come!"

As she reached us, Cyrus put himself between me and her. My heart warmed at his protective instinct.

"What is happening?" Cyrus' voice was cold.

"Please. Skye, your grandmother, she's going to do something. I don't understand, but it can't be good."

My whole body tensed at her words. "What happened?"

She bent over at the waist, catching her breath and then forcing the words out. "She took her staff and headed up the mountain. She said she was going to the altar of Vazzart, that she would defeat the enemies of Greatfalls once and for all."

Cyrus turned to me, his voice full of concern. "What do you think she's doing?"

I shook my head. I had no answers. "She's not the person I thought she was. There's no way to know what she might try."

Jelenna reached out and grabbed my arm. Cyrus responded instinctively to block her, but I put a hand on his chest to stop him. Her eyes were wild, and her face was a mask of desperation.

"I've never seen her like this before. The staff is an artifact of Vazzart, an ancient one. I don't know what it can do."

I locked eyes with Cyrus, and he nodded. I took off running toward the path up the mountain.