Page 125 of Crown of Wrath

“Calyr foretold that this would happen. He said that I would be the one who could stand against the failing of the Thrones. I’m the reason that Roderic and Brenna let someone else take their Throne just as Calyr said I would be.”

Is that really the only reason that he’s done all of this? “But Casimir has already stated that he’s going to give up the Throne to Cole. Let us into the Keep of Flames, and you’ll have done what you set out to do. It will only be you left from your generation of Conduits.”

Gethin shakes his head. “No.” He gets a faraway look in his eyes. “Calyr said that only I could keep the Thrones from failing. I’ll do just that. No one will hold the Throne long enough to let them fail. I will make sure of it. Forever.”

His eyes focus on me again, and he gives me a sad smile. “You may have weak blood, but I almost like you, and your mother always was my fiercest competitor. It’s too bad I have to kill you.”

I shake my head and move away from the railing again. “No. This is all a mistake, Gethin, and you know it. You’re the only person standing in the way of healing the Thrones. Earth rules the creatures. Shadows rule new life. Flames rule magic, and Steel rules enchantments, and the only thing that is failing now are enchantments. It’s you, Gethin. You’re the one who has sat on the Throne too long.”

He pauses for a moment, his head cocked to the side. “Why do you think that Steel rules enchantments?”

“That’s whatA History of Magic and Dragonssays. It was written by my grandfather and is a collection of information from the dragons and the void. It’s the most complete book on how our world works, and enchantments are connected to Steel.”

Gethin shakes his head emphatically. “No. It couldn’t be. Calyr isn’t wrong. He’s never wrong. Everything has been exactly as he showed it to me. Roderic was lost in his own House. Casimir was willing to fight and nothing else. Brenna forgot she even had a House. And me… I’ve worried about everyone. I’ve taken care of everyone.” He looks up at me. “No, your book is wrong because Calyr isn’t.”

I set my jaw, and I hold out my hand, a spear made of shadows appearing in it, and I say, “Fine, Gethin. Then at least fight me like a King. I’m not Cole or Casimir or even my mother. I’m just a weak Wyrdling, after all. Do you really need that Steel Gauntlet and Burning Brand to fight a twenty-three-year-old Wyrdling?”

He cocks his head, and I can see the madness in his eyes returning. “No. Obviously not.” He reaches into his stomach, and he pulls out a small sword barely larger than a dagger. He closes his eyes for a moment, and it grows, slowly becoming a full-sized greatsword. It has to be at least six feet long, and Gethin holds it with one hand as if it takes no effort at all.

I hurl my spear at him, and Gethin deflects it, sending it past him, and the spear disappears almost instantly as another appears in my hand. “You’re really going to fight me?” he asks.

I smile. I don’t know if I can win a fight against him, but I know that without the Gauntlet or Brand, there’s a chance. As long as he treats me like a Wyrdling and underestimates me like everyone else has, I have a chance.

So I fight. I leap toward him, my Earth strength giving my body the speed and strength to move faster than any othercreature in Nyth. Even Steel High Fae can’t rebuild their bodies to move as fast as me.

Well, other than Gethin, it seems. I strike out with my spear, and he slams the greatsword down on it, shearing the shadows in two, and immediately tries to charge me, something Cole’s done too many times to count. I leap backward, and Gethin hurls the greatsword flat, as if he were slinging a knife. A six-foot-long knife.

I dodge to the side, but the guard catches me and throws me off balance. Before I can recover, Gethin leaps. I pull a stone wall up, but he crashes through it. It only gives me time to roll away. Another shadow spear is in my hands as I get to my feet. I expect to be fighting an unarmed man, but Gethin already has his greatsword. A thick braided rope made of hair connects his wrist to his sword. A spool of the rope lays at his feet, and he's grinning at me.

“Brenna sends achildto fight me,” he says, the mania taking true hold of him, and he revels in the battle. I create a wave of shadows twenty feet long and five feet tall, and send it to him. A wall of death. There is no way to regrow while in the void.

He doesn’t jump or run. Instead, he holds that massive sword in front of him, and as the wall of shadows approaches just as quickly as a tidal wave, he artfully uses the greatsword to cut a doorway in it that he slides through.

I hadn’t expected him to be able to do that, and I’m unprepared as he holds up his hand, each finger becoming a sharp, bony spike. He gives me a smile and breaks those wickedly sharp spikes off with the other hand. New fingers grow back immediately from the bloody stumps, but I have to turn my attention away from it as he throws one of those spikes at me.

It moves faster than a crossbow bolt and digs into my shoulder. I reach to pull it out, but he’s running at me, greatsword held in his right hand. I lash out with tendrils ofrevulsion shadows, but his body melts around the tendrils as soon as they touch him. He never slows down.

I strike with my spear, catching him in the shoulder and piercing all the way through him, and he attacks with the bone spikes, a single throw lodging the other four into my chest. I dodge his slash with the great sword, and at the same time, I reshape the tip of my spear into a massive block.

He swings again with the greatsword, and I raise a wall of shadows with all the power the Painted Crown allows me. His weapon and half of his hand pass through the revulsion shadows, and this time I can see the pain on his face as he loses that part of his body.

“Filthy Wyrdling,” he snarls, but his sword and his hand are gone. Without a second thought, I put every ounce of Earth strength into my movements, and I pull him behind me as I race across the breezeway. He tries to stop me, trying to alter his body to grow and become heavier, but it doesn’t matter. I may not have as much skill as he does with his powers, but I have more power flowing through my body than he does. And I’m using every bit to drag him behind me.

I hit the railing and go right through it. More than a hundred feet in the air, I look down at nothing but the ground. My hands are wrapped tight around the spear that’s become a hook piercing Gethin’s body. Even if he tried to use the Steel Gauntlet, it wouldn’t work because the steel only covers his skin, and my spear has skewered him.

I take a breath to regain my focus as Gethin struggles behind me. He’s already grown wings, but that takes time, and the block at the end of my spear is keeping them from working correctly.

I look up at him and I smile. Tendrils of shadow explode from me, coating the ground below us in revulsion shadows. All I had to do was get him into the void, and I won because he doesn’t have any power there.

I hit that darkness at the speed of freefall. If it had been the cobblestones, every bone in my body would be crushed. My organs would have exploded. I would be dead.

Instead, I float in darkness. Safe. I reach up and pull the bone spikes out of my chest and shoulder and feel the darkness fill it. Then I reach around with shadows and try to find Gethin. He’d survive this long. Even Darian and Lee survived longer than this.

I can’t find him, though. Not near me, where he should be. I search further out, and he’s nowhere. “Echo!” I shout, and I feel her shadows press against me. “Do you feel Gethin? Anywhere?”

The vibrations of her shadows exploring this area of the void ripple in a rhythm that bothers me. It’s an opposite rhythm from the one that constantly fills me. Shadows and Earth do not harmonize well.

“Nowhere. I don’t think he was brought to the void,” she says. I can hear the fatigue in her voice. She may be at home here, but she’s transporting too many people. She doesn’t have an unlimited amount of power.

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