Page 116 of The Last One
A sudden radiance pierces the darkness, and jagged crystals overhead glow purple and white and blue. I spin in a circle, Fury held high. The cavern is now brighter than all the light outside, and in this brightness, the creature remains sprawled before me, a leviathan brought low, its hide torn, its green blood pooling in the dirt.
I step closer, not daring to breathe, my mind frozen as it tries to figure out what my eyes are insisting exists. My gaze skips around the cavern in hopes of spotting Jadon.
“Jadon!” I call.
No answer.
I turn back to the creature before me, from that snout to its chest, from its chest and up to its snout and then over to those massive wings. Where is the best place to deliver the fatal blow?
“Stop!” A woman’s commanding voice cuts through the cave like icy wind.
I startle, rocking back on my heels and nearly falling onto the creature’s wing. Spinning around, I blink in astonishment to discover Sybel, ethereal and imposing, marching toward the fallen creature and me. She wears a gown of chainmail, but it can’t be mail, not by the way it floats and folds as she moves. And whatever this metal is, it’s not gold or silver or copper or iron. Yet all these colors shift from ring to ring, like the sky choosing both day and night, dusk and dawn. Her four faces swirl until they decide to show the angriest face of all, the lion’s stony visage of rage and terror that makes the realms step back. “Put away your sword,” she demands.
I blink at her, then scowl. “This creature attacked me, and the others attacked the man who came with me.”
Nostrils flaring, Sybel lifts her chin. “How are you so certain when you know nothing?”
My cheeks blaze with heat. “Why are you here now? Where were you when burnu nearly mauled me to death? Did you find me then and stop my blood from soaking the ground in that meadow?” I hear my frenzy and hostility, but I can’t stop myself. I’m lost, and I’ve lost my friend and my focus. “Are you here to save me? To save my companion?”
“Put. Away. Your.Sword.” Her voice is hard, and her eyes shine with golden light. “I know you’re frightened, Kai, but do as I say. I won’t repeat myself.”
I glare at her. “Tell me: Where is the man who came with me?”
“I don’t answer to you,” she says, brows furrowed.
I take a step toward the beast and raise my sword. “Nor do I answer toyou.I won’t spare a monster whose kin attacked my—”
“Donotchoose violence,” Sybel instructs. “And don’t youeverjustify violence to me.” Her eyes soften with sorrow as she looks down at the fallen beast.
“Violence begets violence,” I say, gripping Fury tighter. “It’s the way of this world. This monster deserves punishment for—”
“Forwhat?” that hard face asks. “Forexisting?”
The storm within me still swirls, but I feel a slight dip in its intensity. “So, I’m to do what? Ignore what these creatures did to us?”
“And what didthiscreature do to you?” she asks, motioning to the monstrous beast.
I take a breath and let my mind quiet. I whisper, “He did nothing.Directly.” I throw my chin up toward the ceiling of battabies, except there are no battabies hanging from the ceiling, not anymore. Just those jagged crystals overhead shining that purple, white, and blue light. No saloroaches creep across the floor. The stench of dung and death has diminished, and the air feels lighter and looser than before.
“He did nothing,” I say again, slowly lowering Fury from my overhead hold. I step away from the fallen creature and ask, “Where are we right now?”
“Where areyouright now?” Sybel responds. Before I can spit out, “Azzam Cavern,” she raises her hand to interrupt me.
My mouth pops closed, and my mind flags. The desire to kill this creature is gone. “How did you know to find me here?”
Sybel smirks. “So arrogant and presumptive. You think I came here foryou?” She touches the creature’s chest. “This battawhale cried out in distress—unnatural and unwarranted anguish.”
Battawhale? Have I heard that designation before?
“I came to stop its murder,” she continues. “He is the only one left in Vallendor.”
The only one left. My heart pinches at the thought, and my eyes burn with tears as I shake my head.This creature hurt us, me, Jadon, who is trapped and injured somewhere. “Maybe that’s for the best. Maybe—”
Sybel holds her hand up again. Then she looks upon the battawhale with mercy and goodness, her face soft, her smile softer. Softer than she’s ever looked at me. She whispers to the dying creature.
I try to swallow, but my dry throat resists. “What about those whom this creature killed? Will you be whispering healing words intotheirears? Will the dead hear your sweet refrains?”
“As with everything,” Sybel says, not even looking at me and choosing to keep her focus on the battawhale, “there is a reason this creature called for help in defending himself.”
