Page 67 of Heart of the Shadow King

“Why not?”

“Well—”

“Never mind.” She turns, steps through the arch. “Hurry up, girl. We haven’t got much time.”

I cast a short glance Theodre’s way. He raises both brows, grimaces, but manages to pull himself to his feet. Leaving him to limp along in my wake, I hasten after Maylin. The chamber on the far side of the arch is far too big for the witch’s singlelorstlight to illuminate, but that doesn’t matter. My attention is drawn immediately to the center of the great space: an upraised dais on which stands a circle ofurzulstones. I recognize them at once. That arrangement is a replica in miniature of the Urzulhar Circle. They pulse with a pale blue glow of life.

Maylin approaches the circle, her slight form silhouetted in their luminance. She turns to face me then, beckoning with some urgency.

“What is this place?” I ask. A sliver of dread makes its way through thejoraround my heart.

“It’s a temple,” Maylin replies. “You must have figured that out for yourself by now.”

Crystals begin to melt back into my flesh, leaving me cold and naked. I cannot seem to tear my gaze away from those stones. “You brought us here. On purpose,” I whisper.

“Of course.”

“You sent your morleth away. You stranded us.”

“Do you really want to get into all that now? The trolde have made it through the second door. There’s only one left between them and us.”

I swallow hard. Released from its stone covering, my heart throbs against my breastbone. I know what she intends. I should have known from the start, but I need to hear her say it. “Why?” I demand.

The old witch’s cheeks shift, her crystallized lips pulling back in a mirthless smile. “Because it’s time you pushed yourself, child. Because you’re much too tenderhearted to perform theva-joron criminals as I once did. But these people? They need your help. They need the salvation only you can give them.”

I become aware of Theodre just behind me, a warm presence at my back. “What’s she talking about, Faraine?” he asks softly.

Ignoring him, I clench my fists. “I’m not going tova-jorthese people. They’re sick with poison. They cannot help what they do.”

“Which is why they need the mercy ofva-jor.” Maylin grinds the end of her stick into the floor, her fingers clasping it so hard, it threatens to break in half. “It is their only hope for peace and eventual rebirth.”

“But you don’t believe that!”

“It doesn’t matter what I believe. It’s what they believe which counts. Or what they used to believe back when they were capable of believing anything.” She takes a step toward me, her gold eyes snapping. “Do you think they would thank you for leaving them like this? Savage and tearing each other apart until they’re all violently dead?”

All traces ofjorhave left me now. Tears trickle down my face, hot and fast. How did I not guess this is where the witch would eventually guide me? That she would push my powers further and deeper in her bid to make me into the weapon she needs.

“Faraine?” Theodre’s voice is a line back to a reality where I am small, defenseless. A princess in need of saving, not a monster to be unleashed. “Faraine,” he says, “I don’t know what’s going on or what the two of you are talking about, but . . . Well, if there is anything you can do, you might want to do it soon.”

Just as he speaks, there’s a huge crash at the nearest door. The voices of the trolde roar on the other side. They’ll be through any moment now.

“It’s up to you, girl.” Maylin draws my gaze back to her. To my surprise, she’s let her ownjordrop as well, leaving behind nothing but a frail, wrinkled old woman with a crooked stick. She smiles at me, a sad sort of smile. But there are knives in her eyes. “We can all die here and now if you like. Or you can prove the power you possess and live to fight a much greater foe. You can save this whole world.”

But at what cost?

“Don’t we . . .” I stop, stumbling on the bitter words. “Don’t we need a willing sacrifice?”

“For something like this, unwilling will do well enough.”

The witch raises her hand, quirking one finger. A figure lurches into view just on the other side of theurzulcircle. I press my hands to my mouth, forcing back a scream of surprise. The darkness in this chamber is so profound, I’d not realized we weren’t alone. “Don’t worry,” Maylin says, stepping up onto the dais and approaching the stranger. “He’s docile enough. For the moment.”

He’s a big trolde man, old but still handsome, with a full white beard and long hair that falls in silvery waves to his waist. He wears a stone circlet across his brow, signifying his place in the priesthood. Beneath that band, his eyes roll with the madness ofraog,only just held in check. I recognize that power which holds him: Maylin. She has him in her thrall.

“No.” My voice is small, lost beneath the din of the ravening troldefolk. “I won’t do it. I won’t kill this man.”

The witch sneers. “No one’s asking you to.”

Urzullight glints off the crystal protrusions which erupt suddenly from her clenched fist. Before I can cry out, before I can take a single step, she drives those crystals deep into the priest’s gut. His eyes widen. Even now, her thrall holds him fast. Without a word, without even a grunt, he sinks to his knees, falls into the center of theurzulcircle. Blood flows freely, a blue-black gush. The crystals shine brighter and brighter, drinking in the sacrifice. Their resonance thrums against my senses and fills the chamber with a noise like thunder.

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