Page 103 of Heart of the Shadow King

He is silent for a long moment. Then his great hand cups my cheek, turns me to face him. Love radiates from his soul, warming me, giving me just enough courage to look up into his eyes. “When she told me you were down there”—he nods to the cliff and the broken stairs we’ve just climbed—“I tried to rush to your side immediately. She held me back, using her powers. It was as though my feet had grown roots, so great was the dread in my heart.”

I nod. I know what it feels like to have Maylin’s resonance vibrating in my body and soul.

“But Faraine,” he persists, “the moment she died, her hold over me broke. I came for you. Whatever control she had over my feelings, it is gone. Yet my love for you remains.” Leaning forward, he presses his forehead to mine. “I will always come for you, Faraine. No matter how far you go, no matter what darkness you face. I will come. And I will stand beside you.”

I draw a long breath, inhaling the scent of him into my lungs even as the warmth of his love glows in my chest. But there’s still so much between us, things that must be faced, however desperately we might wish to avoid them.

“Your people,” I whisper.

Vor tenses. “Maylin’s doing,” he growls.

“In part, yes. But not entirely.” I draw back enough to meet his eyes again. “You cannot erase my guilt. Or undo the loss of all those lives.”

Sorrow mingles once more with love, pulsing from his center. Not long ago it would have broken me to pieces. I can bear it now, though it hurts. And still he does not let me go. “Were it not for you, the Under Realm would no longer exist,” he says. “The troldefolk as a people would have no chance to rebuild. Our very species would be extinct.”

I open my mouth, prepared to remind him that one good deed doesn’t outweigh so great a sin. But then his lips are on mine. My senses flood with everything he’s feeling, the love, the loss, all so tremendous and beautiful it could easily carry me away in its flow. But he holds me anchored firmly to him.

Maybe, just maybe, we can find a way to hold on to each other in the dark days ahead.

“Oh, I say, is that them?”

Vor and I pull apart, startled by the voice bursting from above. It’s followed by a resounding:“Hallooooo!Faraine! Vor! Gods’ teeth am I glad to see the two of you!” There, emerging from the whirling shadows is a deeper shadow still, flame-eyed and snorting sulfur. Hael rides upon its back, her arm wrapped tight around my brother, who sits before her in the saddle, his pretty face scored with worry lines. He waves an arm wildly, nearly smacking Hael in the face. She avoids his blow and guides her mount down to us.

The next thing I know, I’m caught in my brother’s arms and receiving the full brunt of his terror. Hastily, I pull a shield ofjorup to protect myself but relent enough to embrace him back. “Gods and goddesses, Faraine, you would notbelievethe time I’ve had of it!” he declares, squeezing. “Did you know we got buried in the infirmary? Had to dig our way out, it was dreadful. And after all that, the floor opened up under us suddenly, and I very nearly plummeted to my doom, only Captain Hael swooped me up to safety, and, do you know, I think we shared something very much like amoment?Just a little one, but there was an undeniable sort oftensionin the air, though that might have been the earth quaking apart around us. Who can say?”

I manage to extricate myself and turn to Hael, relieved to see her upright and whole. Her skin is scarred with all the dreadful cuts of the sacrifice not yet healed. But she stands on her own two feet and salutes her king, as strong and steadfast as I’ve ever seen her. She looks my way only once, a gleam of understanding in her pale eyes. As though she knows what I found in the depths, down under rock and magma in the pit of the world.

“The city is not lost,” she says, her voice hard. “Part of the east end broke off and fell into the chasm, and many buildings have toppled. But it did not all fall.”

Vor receives this report without visible reaction, though I feel the anxiety simmering in his soul. “The threat is past,” he says, his voice firm and confident. “Arraog sleeps once more. We are safe, and those of us who survive may rebuild.”

He goes on to tell Hael that she must ride out in search of Sul and bring the people back to Mythanar. As they discuss which route to take, and Theodre gazes with fixed attention at his beautiful rescuer, no one notices when I put a little distance between myself and all their turbulent emotions. Even with the new balance ofjorto help me, I will never be immune to the shocks of feelings which wrack my mind and body. And I’m still weak from my encounter with Arraog.

Prrrrrlt?

I startle and look down. A small, furry body twines around my ankles. “Cheep!” I exclaim, and crouch to let the little beast scamper up my arm to my shoulder. “Cheep, you survived! Oh, I’m glad.” It may seem foolish in the face of so much loss. But as thelusterlinglights bravely shine from the cavern ceiling, spreading a glow across the ruins below, I am thankful for even the smallest blessing.

The mothcat leaps from my shoulder to a clump of crystals protruding from the slope behind me. Sitting up on its haunches, it tips its eyeless head to one side, emanating expectation. “What do you want, little friend?” I ask and take a step after it.

The mothcat darts forward, winds around my ankles again, then bounds up the rise, tail flicking as though to beckon. I cast a glance back at Vor, still deep in conversation with his captain. I chew my lip, considering. Then turning, I follow little Cheep up the rise to where the last of the Urzulhar stands, defiant against destruction. The red light has gone out of it, and it pulses gently with a low, blue glow, illuminating the ruined pieces of its fallen brethren.

I step into the circle, pursuing the mothcat, who dances among the broken shards of stone. Is the danger to the Under Realm truly past? I cannot help but wonder. The dragon is asleep, yes. Unless I miss my guess, she will sleep another few millennia at least. A new age of trolde will come and go before she reawakens. But reawaken she will. Someday. And this world will break along its fault lines unless something is done to prevent it.

I clench my fists. Something will be done. We will find a way to pass down our story to future generations. Not in writing, no, for the fae folk do not read. But in carvings, in songs, in stories. We’ll find a way to make certain our children’s children and their children and beyond remember what took place here in the cradle of their birth.

And maybe the gods will provide them with a new means of escape.

Cheeeeep!

The insistent cry draws my attention back to the mothcat. It sits atop a dark stone. Not a crystal, but a misshapen boulder. Something about it feels familiar, but it isn’t until I step closer that I recognize Queen Roh, trapped inva-jor,her thick stone hide chipped in places but still intact. By the light of the Urzulhar, I can still discern the faint impression of her fear-twisted face.

Cheep dances atop her head, fluffy tail whisking. Something has excited it. But what? I remember vividly how this little beast curled up to my dead body following thewogghaattack, sending out a powerful resonance which somehow kept my soul tethered to this realm. Mothcats are much more intelligent, more sensitive to living vibrations than most would guess.

Brow furrowed I draw nearer. My breath is tight in my chest. Cheep trills and dances encouragingly, however, so I stretch out one hand, place my palm against the rock. There is no heartbeat, of course; she is stone through and through. But there issomething.

Closing my eyes, I draw on the vibrations of brokenurzulall around me. Channeling that resonance, I plunge my awareness deeper, down into this lump of stone. And there! At its heart—Roh. Her fear. Her pain, her confusion. Her anger. It’s all present, faint but recognizable. The distinct vibration that makes up her unique soul. She’s in the stone. Alive.

Which means she might be drawn out once more.

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