Page 42 of Heart of the Shadow King

“In those days, the stirrings that now beset the Under Realm were not so terrible. But they were increasing in frequency, enough that King Gaur was deeply concerned. So it was that Zur, the king’s brother, was sent into the mortal world in search of this Crystal Woman. It was believed her gift was sent fromGrakanakhimself, intended to save the Under Realm.

“When Zur told me his story, I did not see how it applied to me. What had I to do with crystals? It was a pretty tale, and nothing more. I told Zur I knew of no gifted who matched this rather obscure description, but suggested he visit the temple to inquire. He claimed he had . . . and it was they who directed him to me.

“I laughed then. Bitterly. Because I knew he would be disappointed and, in his disappointment, would leave. He must, after all, continue his search. Once he knew how badly misled he’d been, why should he continue bothering with one foul-tempered anchoress hidden behind mud walls? I did not care for him to know the sorrow the prospect of his departure instilled in me. I laughed at him. I jeered. I mocked him for the futility of each footstep which brought him up the mountain trail to me. I told him of the sad joke the gods had made of me. The uselessness of my gift. The pain. The isolation. When I was done, I told him to go. Go and take his foolish hopes with him.”

Her eyelids slowly fall, the faint remnants of lashes fanning her wrinkled cheeks. “The next night, he returned. This time, he sat on the roof of my cell and told a story of a trolde prince and his true love, of the trials they faced in theirmarhg—the courtship hunt, you understand. The night after, he told of a trolde hero who bested a demon by putting rocks in his soup so that the old monster broke his teeth. Night after night he came with more stories and sometimes songs, all growled and grunted in that terrible voice of his. Sometimes I spoke back, laughing at his tales. Sometimes I kept silent, tears streaming down my cheeks, holding my breath until he left again.

“Finally, he told me this was his last visit. At dawn he would return to the Under Realm and inform his brother the king that his mission had failed. I would not hear him again. I took care to disguise the sob choking my throat when I told him good riddance, I’d had about enough of his nuisance.

“He was silent for so long, I began to fear he had gone already. Then I heard a small tapping at the hatch overhead. He had something for me, he said. I told him I never opened the hatch when someone was waiting on the other side. It hurt . . . far too much.

“He grunted. Then he asked me to make this exception. Just once. As we would never see one another again.

“‘We’ve never seen one another to begin with,’ I answered dryly.

“‘Hear one another, then,’ he said. And, to my great downfall, he added: ‘Please, Maylin.’

“I was not made of stone. Not then at least. And despite all the pain I’d endured, three years starved of contact with other living souls will make anyone desperate.

“So, I cracked the hatch. And there was this great pale hand before me. In the palm of that hand rested a crystal stone. ‘Take it,’ Zur said. ‘A token to remember me by.’

“‘I have neither need nor liking for sparkly things,’ I muttered. At his insistence, however, I took the stone, and when I did . . . my finger brushed against his . . . and something wonderful happened . . .”

Her voice trails away. I wait, my heart in my throat, caught in the spell of her words. In that moment, I don’t care if these feelings of suspense and eagerness are mine or implanted in me. I simply want to know what happened next between the lonely anchoress and the trolde king’s brother. When she doesn’t continue, I open my mouth and say, “What—”

“It became clear to me,” the old witch cuts me off abruptly, “that the stone’s innate properties influenced my gods-gift in ways I’d never known were possible. From that moment on, it wasn’t difficult for Zur to convince me to go with him. I had to venture to this Under Realm of his, had to find out everything I could about my powers and how they connected to the crystals of his world. To discover if there was indeed any truth to this wild story of prophecy and doom and a mortal woman at the center of it all.

“I won’t bore you with the details of our journey nor my first impressions of Mythanar. I was welcomed by the priests and priestesses of the Deeper Dark. They had long anticipated the arrival of their supposed savior. Poor fools. But once they learned of my connection to theurzul, they were eager to teach me all they knew about its properties.

“The trolde, of course, are born with magic in their blood. It resonates with the crystals of this world in a manner not unlike what you and I experience. But their magic is nothing compared to the gifts of the gods. Take how you turned back the rabid cave devils for example. Such a feat would have required a hundred priests chanting for three days on end to generate enough resonance for such a working. But you did it alone. Without any training, without preparation. Yes, it killed you . . . but you did it. Imagine what might be done once you’ve learned the proper methods.”

She rises from her seat and totters to the far end of the circle, standing between two great stones and looking out across the garden. “I scarcely thought about the dragon. Back then—nearly two hundred years ago as mortals count time—the stirrings were not so frequent. We believed we had time. I honed my skills, endured the growing pains, mastered both my emotions and the emotions of others, all channeled throughurzul.At first, I struggled to see how it would be possible to use such power to slay anything, much less a dragon.

“Then I learned aboutjor.”

She rolls back one sleeve of her robe, extending an arm so pale and so slender, it looks almost skeletal in the crystal light. As I watch, crystals form, jutting out from her skin so that the flesh seems to rip and fall away, leaving behind jagged, hard edges. I suck in a breath. “Don’t look so horrified!” Maylin laughs, twisting her arm. Light bounces off the faceted surface. “This is but the first step. But it is the most vital. You cannot hope to slay a dragon if you yourself are too weak and vulnerable. Look what happened simply turning back thosewoggha!No, you must make yourself harder. Stronger. Strong enough to reverberate with the great crystals on a deeper, more profound level.”

“How?” The word slips softly from my lips, small but suddenly eager. Something about her story has struck a spark inside me. “How can I do this? It’s so unlike anything I know.”

“Is it?”

Almost unaware of what I’m doing, I reach out, let my fingers hover above the witch’s arm. There’s something there, I think. Something familiar. Reminiscent perhaps of the dark resonance I’d experienced in that chapel when I stumbled upon Roh and the other worshippers. Something had happened to me then—the sensation of stone wrapping around my heart. This is like that. And it’s horrible.

I step back quickly. “I’m not . . . I don’t . . .” My voice falters, uncertain what I’m trying to say.

“You will have to go deeper.” Maylin’s eyes bore into mine. Her black irises are ringed in shining gold. “You will learn to cover yourself in stone. Not just your body, but your soul. A crystal casing stronger than any force in this world, stronger even than dragon fire and dragon poison. When you have done that, I will teach you what you need to put an end to Arraog. You won’t merely forestall the doom of the Under Realm. You will save this whole world.”

My heart beats wildly, a maelstrom of fear and hope and longing and terror and so many other feelings. “Did you ever try? To kill the dragon?”

“Yes.”

“What happened?”

“I failed.”

A world of meaning laces those two words. They strike me, a reverberation that reaches down even to my subdued gods-gift. Shuddering, I back away yet another step, ready to flee the circle, to flee this woman and the destiny toward which she beckons. There’s so much more to this story, so much she isn’t telling me. So many secrets, each darker than the last. How can I trust her?

“I sense the questions in your spirit.” Maylin stalks toward me, one tottering and yet inexorable step at a time. “I will answer them all. But for now, we cannot dillydally. There’s far too much to learn and far too little time in which to learn it. Are you willing to do everything it takes to save Mythanar?”

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