Page 31 of Heart of the Shadow King

I hesitate a moment before finally nodding. I don’t want to remember. But the knowledge has haunted me ever since I stepped from that pool, ever since Vor carried me back to Mythanar. In my mind’s eye, I see again that dream of mighty beings twined in a vast celestial dance. “You said she is waking. That she wishes to destroy this world. But you couldn’t say why.”

“Whydoesn’t matter all that much. What matters is that itwill happen. Is in facthappening.And you need to stop it.”

I should shout for the guards Vor promised would be posted outside. But I can’t. Something whispers in the back of my head, saying it would be unwise to draw attention to either this old woman or myself. Dangerous even. But that doesn’t make any sense.

My eyes narrow. “Are you preventing me from calling the guards?”

Both brows shoot up the old woman’s forehead. “What makes you think that?”

I don’t answer. Because now that I’ve spoken the words out loud, they seem very foolish, embarrassingly so. But even those feelings don’t seem as though they belong to me. Grinding my teeth, I frown at the woman. “I don’t know what you’re trying to accomplish by sneaking into my chambers and . . . and working magic on me. There’s nothing you can do or say that will make me into something I am not.”

“And what do you mean by that, child?”

“I mean there’s no way I can stop a dragon from destroying the world.”

“Not at the moment, no. But with a little training.”

She’s mad. It’s the only possible explanation for this whole insane conversation. I toss up my hands. “It doesn’t matter what you think! No training in the world will make any difference. Besides, my powers are not what they used to be.”

“Really?” The woman takes an eager step forward, her gaze sharpening. “In what way? Explain.”

I open my mouth, but no words come. How can I express to someone who has never felt it, that strange absence inside me, that empty space once filled with the emotions of others? Yes, making love with Vor reawakened some of that former sense. So had the crystal song of theVulug Ugdth.But it’s not the same. “It’s just . . . gone,” I say softly. “Not entirely, perhaps. But it isn’t as strong anymore.”

“Ah, yes.” The old woman’s face wrinkles in a smile, displaying a shocking set of strong white teeth. “Yes, it can take you like that when the shift is happening. At first, it’ll feel almost as though you’ve lost it entirely. But you haven’t. Trust me, child. Gods-gifts don’t come and go like that. They’re given for a reason. And your reason, like it or not, is to kill Arraog.”

Shaking my head, I force a small laugh between my lips. “I’m sorry. Even if my gift was as strong as before, it was never that kind of gift. I couldn’t harm a fly, much less kill anyone.”

“Not up until now, no,” the old woman acknowledges. “But you don’t understand what your gift is. You’ve spent your whole life trying tomanageit. To control it with that little stone I sent you.”

“What?”Hastily, I grip the pendant around my neck. It lies dead and still in my grasp, but the contours are so familiar. In the years since my gift manifested, this stone has become part of me. Sometimes I’ve wondered how exactly I came by it. Initially I’d thought it was a gift from my mother, but how could she have known that a gemstone from a distant world would help calm the ravages of the gift breaking me apart from the inside out?

I stare at this woman, her words ringing in my ear. Rather than answer my blurted question, she touches thelorststone on the end of her walking stick. It blazes brighter, fully illuminating her face. I look at her, really look at her for the first time. To my surprise, I recognize her. Or rather, I recognize the reflection of her which I have seen many times in a face far more beloved. That set of the lips, that shape of the brow, the slope of the cheek and temple.

“You’re her,” I whisper. “You’re Vor’s mother. The queen.”

The woman smiles again, and it’s a smile I know. Altered, yes, to fit the face of an elderly human as opposed to the flashing brilliance of a magnificent trolde king. But I’d know that smile anywhere. “I am Maylin,” she says. “Once upon a time, I was a queen. Now I’m just the old witch of the Upper Lands.”

“But . . . but you left. You abandoned Vor and fled this world, and . . . and . . .” I run out of words. The truth is, Vor told me very little of his mother. I assumed she died ages ago, having returned to her own world and the mortal air that would soon sap her body of youth and vitality. I never dreamed she’d remain so close, her life prolonged though apparently not protected against aging. “Does Vor know?”

“Of course. It was he who brought you to me, he who begged me to tell him how you might be saved. So yes, Vor has known for some time. Though he declined to pay me a visit until recent events drove him to my doorstep. He still hasn’t forgiven me for leaving his father. He didn’t understand. He was too young.”

“Idon’t understand.” The words bite harshly through my teeth. “Why did you leave him? And . . . and how could you possibly . . . ?” I grip the stone around my neck, far too many questions crowding my head at once.

Maylin eyes me, her expression hooded. “I sought long and hard for another gods-gifted,” she says slowly. “I knew you would appear one day. It was foretold, was it not? But it took generations for the gods to bestow your unique gift again. In the meanwhile, I could not let myself die. So, I clung to this world and the immortality its air affords, only venturing back into our world periodically to continue my search. Many’s the time I nearly gave up, convinced you would never be. Then one day . . . there you were.” Her eyes glitter, strange embers in their golden depths. “Your gods-gift came upon you in such a flood of power, it positively sang out from every stone in this world!”

I shake my head. My breath is caught in my throat. “How could you have known? How could you find me?”

“Because I knew what I was looking for. Because I alone in all the worlds was best prepared to recognize it.”

The old woman lifts the strands of necklaces around her throat. They light up at once, dozens of brilliant colors, each unique and gleaming from multi-faceted surfaces. A low hum vibrates from their centers, creating a harmony which shivers across my senses, straight to my bones. “You are not the only one to bear your gift, Faraine Cyhorn of Gavaria,” she says. “I too am gods-gifted. I too receive the emotions of others, feel the energy of their spirits. I too once lay in torment, battered to the brink of death by energies over which I had no control, my mind and body slowly breaking. But I learned. By the grace of the gods themselves, I was brought here and instructed by the priests of the Deeper Dark. They taught me to channel my power through theurzulstones of this world and so much more besides.”

She lifts one strand of crystals. The long, irregular stones gleam pale blue one moment before transitioning to a rich, warm gold. I stare at them, strangely mesmerized, like a moth enthralled by the candle flame.

“It has been many long years since I stood in your shoes,” the witch continues, her voice softly blending into the crystal hum. “But I remember. And I will teach you.”

Something warm buds and blooms inside me, a feeling of calm and certainty, followed soon after by eagerness which in turn builds to hunger. I gaze at those stones, every sense in my body and mind attuned to their vibrations. I want to take hold of them myself, to draw their energy into my body. To let the sound, the pulse, infuse me. I take two steps, stretching out both hands, before I realize what I’m doing. With a gasp, I wrench back. Something is wrong. This thrum inside me, this ache in my blood and bones . . . it doesn’t belong to me.

“What are you doing?” I demand, tearing my gaze from the crystals and meeting the witch’s gold eyes. “Are you manipulating my feelings? Feeding me emotions?”

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