His determination to kill her wavered, the sword drooping in his hands. Rocks shifted and tumbled away from the spot where he had been stabbing. A blood-streaked and dust-caked hand reached up from the pile.
“Ridge,” Sardelle whispered from behind him. “You have to finish it. She’ll kill us all if you don’t.”
“I...” More images rushed into his mind of him entwined with Mara, of kisses shared, of thrusts of desire met with eagerness.
“Angulus is buried under there too,” Sardelle said stepping up behind him. “He arranged this trap, risked his own life to bury her under the rocks, in an attempt to kill her, to protect the castle and this country. He’s still alive, but he won’t be if she crawls out of there. Remember, she killed all of the council leaders already. She doesn’t care about you. Even if she did—”
Ridge swallowed. “I know.” She was manipulating him, as she had that night. None of this was real.
Kasandral thrummed in his hands, almost pulsing with indignation. Indignation and rage. It wanted him to kill the sorceress. Images of the dead councilmen leaped into his head, mixing with the scenes of his night with Mara. Through the confusion, Ridge managed to keep enough of his wherewithal to thrust the sword into the rocks one more time.
A scream sounded, as the blade cut into more than stone this time.
Horrified, his mind still full of images of him and Mara naked on the hay, Ridge dropped the weapon and stumbled back. As soon as Kasandral tumbled from his grip, he knew he had made a mistake. He reached for it, but it was too late. The images disappeared from his mind at the same time as an invisible force struck him. As it had with the others, it hurled him all the way across the chamber.
The landing drove all of the air from his lungs as he slid down the wall to the floor. His body wouldn’t work, and he couldn’t breathe or even think about getting up. He couldn’t do anything except feel pain and look helplessly toward the rubble he’d been flung away from.
Sardelle was still there, on one knee, also having suffered some attack. She glanced at the sword, its glow dim now that nobody held it, but she didn’t reach for it, couldn’t reach for it.
More rocks sloughed away from the pile. The hand that had reached out turned into a head, and then Mara’s dusty upper body rose into sight. Only it wasn’t Mara, not the Mara he had known. Her skin and hair were darker under the dust. This was the woman from the flying fortress, the woman who had tried to kill him and his squadron. She lifted a sword that Ridge hadn’t seen since that day. Wreltad. The blade wasn’t glowing, not the way Kasandral’s was, and he remembered Wreltad’s parting words, that he would choose death over continuing to work with her. Did she know yet? Did she care?
Blood trickled from Eversong’s mouth and saturated the front of her shirt, but she found the strength to attack Sardelle. Ridge couldn’t see that attack, but Sardelle’s response was unmistakable. She dropped onto her back, clutching at her throat. She tried to gasp for air, but only a gurgling sound came out.
Ridge tried to make his body respond, wanting nothing more than to run back over there and pick up the sword. His numb limbs did not respond. Eversong looked over at him, a triumphant sneer on her lips.
Therrik was the one to climb to his feet and sprint out of the shadows for the blade. Eversong saw him and lifted an arm, but too late. His hands wrapped around Kasandral’s hilt, and with impossible speed, he leaped to his feet. He swept the blade at her so quickly, Ridge barely registered the movement. It was only when her head tumbled off, cleanly removed from her neck, that he realized what had happened. The soulblade fell from her fingers, clanked down the rubble pile, and lay still.
Ridge tore his gaze away from it and avoided looking at the decapitated body. He felt cowardly, but he was relieved that Therrik had been the one to kill her. Even knowing all he knew about her now, he doubted he could have done it. He looked toward Sardelle, his heart breaking at seeing her on the floor, though at least she had lowered her hand from her throat and no longer seemed to be in pain. He longed to go to her and engulf her in a hug.
“Seven gods, Zirkander,” Therrik panted, wiping the sword off on his trousers. “You screwed that witch too?”
Silence filled the room after that statement. At first, Ridge could only look at him in confusion, but from the way Therrik and Sardelle stared at him, he realized they knew every detail. Eversong hadn’t just shared those images with him. She had flung them out into the room. They had been meant to manipulate him. He wasn’t sure why they’d been foisted on the others. To make them hate him? To not trust him? To hurt Sardelle?
He winced and forced himself to meet Sardelle’s gaze. Even though that night hadn’t been his choice, and he believed she would understand, that didn’t keep the sorrow and hurt from her eyes now. He wanted to slither under that rubble pile and disappear. Sardelle blinked several times and looked away from him.
“The king is still alive under here,” she said, a slight quaver to her voice. She wiped her eyes and swallowed before continuing. “I suggest we figure out how to get him out.”
A distant crash came from somewhere above, the walls shivering in response. Ridge forced his sore body into motion and pushed himself to his feet. If more of the castle fell atop this room, they might never find Angulus.
Chapter 19
Sweat ran down Sardelle’s spine as she lifted rock after rock off the pile, forming cushions of air under them to levitate them across the chamber. After the battle, her entire body ached, though not as much as she would have expected. She almost felt invigorated and wondered if she had Bhrava Saruth’s so-called blessing to thank. Still, after that mental battle, she wanted nothing more than to collapse somewhere and relax—and to forget the images Eversong had stuck into her head. She’d seen enough of Ridge’s thoughts earlier to know Eversong had drugged him to get him in that barn, but that didn’t make those images any less vivid.
Ridge dragged rocks away by hand, his face hard to read. He hadn’t spoken since Therrik blurted that accusation. Now and then, he paused to rub his back and watch the boulder-sized slabs drifting past, but he avoided Sardelle’s gaze when she looked at him. She didn’t blame him for what had happened, and had been warned earlier when she had gotten the gist from Ridge’s surface thoughts, but it was still hard to accept with any degree of equanimity, especially when the damned woman had shared everything in vivid detail.
Therrik hadn’t put away Kasandral yet. He stood in a wide-legged stance, breathing heavily and glaring down at Eversong’s soulblade. He kept mumbling under his breath. The control words for Kasandral? Sardelle did not like the way the dragon-slaying sword continued to glow green. Was its thirst still not quenched? Was it trying to convince Therrik to attack Sardelle too? Or maybe it wanted to find a way up to the courtyard—what remained of it—to attack the dragons?
She could feel Bhrava Saruth fighting the female up there. A flier squadron was also in the air, trying to find a way to help. She worried the pilots would do more harm than good, confusing friendly dragons for enemies. As soon as she could, she had to go help, if only by telling whoever led that team to get out of the dragons’ way. But for now, her senses told her that Angulus still lived under the rocks at the back of the pile, as impossible as that seemed. She couldn’t leave until they recovered him.
“Will the sword do anything?” Therrik asked, sneering slightly as another boulder floated by. He would probably never get used to having magical allies.
“The soulblade?” Sardelle wiped her damp brow. “Possibly, yes. They’ve been known to finish battles when their handlers have died, though eventually they lose their power and go dormant without a link to another sorcerer.”
Jaxi, can you tell if Wreltad is making sinister plans toward us?
Taddy isn’t talking to me. Perhaps because I call him Taddy. He prefers to talk to your soul snozzle.
Ridge?
“He won’t attack us,” Ridge said quietly. “He could have helped Eversong the
re in the end, but he didn’t.”
“Why not?” Therrik prodded the soulblade with Kasandral. Light flashed around both swords, the air snapping and hissing angrily, like when droplets of water were flung into a hot pan. Therrik stumbled back. He switched Kasandral to his other hand and shook out the right. “It’s definitely not dormant,” he said.
“No, that would take some time.” Manipulating the air, Sardelle moved another rock off the top and floated it into her pile. Her head was starting to hurt from the effort of using so much power. Angulus was at the far rear of the rockfall. It almost seemed like he was in the wall. “Soulblades had to last long enough to be transferred to new handlers. It was often weeks or months before someone acceptable was chosen.”
Sardelle smiled, thinking of the ceremony where she had received Jaxi. She had been so proud to earn a soulblade at such a young age. The feeling of pride had faltered slightly with Jaxi’s first sarcastic comment, it being quite the opposite of what Sardelle had expected from a wise and venerable soul embedded in a sword.
I wasn’t that tickled with the match at first, either, as you’ll recall. You had ink on your fingers and smelled of parchment. I was sure I’d spend your entire life being used as a paperweight on a library table and that you’d never take me out to smite things.
That would have been a tragedy. Sardelle glanced at Eversong’s body.
Yes.
“Should I try to destroy it?” Therrik looked like he wanted to prod the soulblade again, or perhaps lift Kasandral overhead and cleave it in half. “It’s Cofah, right?”
“Don’t,” Ridge said. “He was willing to accept death over continuing to help her any further. That’s what he said when he gave me my memories back.”
Therrik curled a skeptical lip.
Sardelle wasn’t skeptical, but she was surprised, even though she had known something unusual had happened when Ridge’s memories suddenly returned. “Why would he have chosen you over his handler?”
“He had a sense of honor. She didn’t.” Ridge shrugged.
Also, he likes your soul snozzle, Jaxi added. Rather more, I gather, than he liked Eversong. If Ridge wants a soulblade, Wreltad would probably accept him as a handler.
Sardelle gaped. Had that ever even been done? A soublade linking to someone without dragon blood?
I don’t know, but I think it could work. A soul is a soul.
Ridge had been pushing rocks aside, but he paused to look over at them, a puzzled expression on his face. Had Jaxi shared her words with him too?
Yes, Jaxi said.
Ridge’s gaze shifted toward the dusty sword on the ground. “Doesn’t Tylie need a soulblade?”
“Uh.” Sardelle had wanted to get her one to help with her teaching, but a Cofah soulblade? It was what Phelistoth had wanted, but that wasn’t necessarily a good thing. She had hoped to find an Iskandian one for Tylie, one that would tie her to this continent rather than tempting her away. Even if Wreltad agreed to stay here and join with Tylie, if he had come from the same era as Eversong, he might have as much strength and raw power as she had possessed. Sardelle shuddered at the idea of such a weapon in a teenager’s hands.
I would have to meet her first, a subdued male voice spoke into her head.
Startled, Sardelle dropped the rock she had been moving. It landed with a noisy clunk in the middle of the chamber, and Therrik and Ridge looked at her.
“Sorry,” she said. “I was thinking about the answer to Ridge’s question.”
“Well, don’t think when one of those boulders is over my head,” Therrik grumbled.
A distant, muffled shout reached her ears. Sardelle jumped. Angulus.
She returned her attention to moving the rocks.
“Wreltad?” Ridge asked, looking to the blade again. “Could you help with these rocks?”
Whatever his answer was, he gave it only to Ridge, who nodded and stepped back from the pile. He waved for Sardelle and Therrik to do the same, and they retreated to the hallway.
With a great grinding of rock and shifting of dust, half of the rubble pile lifted up and moved across the chamber. Sardelle stared in awe. She wouldn’t have been surprised if a dragon could do that, but a soulblade that had once been human?
A disdainful sniff sounded in Sardelle’s mind.
Envious, Jaxi?
No. I could move a mountain of rubble too.
Oh?
Just not all at once.
The rocks settled on the far side of the chamber. As the second half of the pile rose, Sardelle realized Wreltad could have done this at any point when Therrik and Ridge had been hacking at Eversong through the stones. He could also have protected her when they first fell. Maybe Ridge was right and he truly had abandoned his handler.
After the rocks had been moved, Sardelle squinted into the settling dust. At first, she did not see anyone on the ground or against the wall, as her senses had promised her there would be. Then a man sneezed.
“Sire?” Therrik walked toward an old stone fireplace in the corner, the hearth half hidden by smashed crates.
Another sneeze answered him. A boot appeared from the dim recesses of the hearth, kicking away some of the broken crates. Therrik and Ridge rushed forward and shoved away the rest of the debris.
King Angulus, wearing his dark robes of office and even his crown, crawled out from the old firebox. Dust coated his clothing and his hair, and the crown had fresh dents in it. In addition to his formal regalia, he clenched a pistol in one hand and wore a bandolier with explosives in it.
“Did you do this, Sire?” Ridge waved at the rubble.
“Yes. Don’t tell Kaika that I trapped myself along with our invader.” Angulus scowled at Therrik and Ridge. “That’s an order.”
Therrik’s eyebrows drew together in confusion. For the first time that day, he looked less enlightened than Ridge. Apparently, gossip of that relationship hadn’t made it to Magroth.
“Did I defeat her by chance?” Angulus pointed at Eversong’s body, but then frowned, looked for the head, and found it against the wall. “Never mind. Unless the rocks knocked her head off, I see I did not. My ego must remain small, I fear. Who decapitated her?”
Therrik lifted his chin, his eyes gleaming with the hope of some praise from his monarch.
“She was buried in the rubble when we got here, Sire,” Sardelle explained, “but still had power left to use on us. It was a close battle. Therrik was the one who killed her.”
She watched Therrik warily, certain he didn’t want praise from her. How would he react? Therrik’s gaze flickered toward her, but not for long. He remained intent on his king.
“I see.” Angulus shuffled forward, sloughing stone dust from his clothing, and patted Therrik on the shoulder. “Good work, Colonel.”
Therrik nodded curtly, as if the job had been simple and the praise didn’t mean nearly as much as it did. “Thank you, Sire.”
Angulus glowered at the body. “That witch killed several of my guards and one of my pages.” His tone switched from anger to anguish as he added, “The girl was twelve. She was just trying to get out of the way.”
Standing this close to him, Sardelle felt that anguish wrapping around Angulus, caught a glimpse of his surface thoughts, of a fireball annihilating the guards, of the girl caught in the crossfire. She gulped and drew in her senses, locking them behind a barrier. Hearing about the incident was painful enough. Seeing it through his horrified eyes made her want to curl up in a ball and weep. Later, maybe she would. Hopefully not alone this time. She looked to Ridge.
He was studying Wreltad, the blade still lying on the dusty floor. She could not tell if the soulblade was speaking with him or not. Maybe seeing Eversong kill the young page had been the moment that had pushed Wreltad over the edge.
Angulus sighed and removed his crown. He looked like he wanted to stick it in a pocket or maybe toss it somewhere, but he merely held it. “I was in a meeting with the council members when news came of the arrival of
an unannounced non-military flier.” His focus shifted toward Ridge.
Unlike Therrik, Ridge had no reason to hold his head high, and he dropped his gaze. Sardelle stepped closer to him, brushing his arm in silent support. It hadn’t been his fault.
“I had a hunch it was trouble, but stayed with the others, as my bodyguards requested, until the fires started. I suspected magic must be involved, though I hadn’t yet realized that it was our nemesis from the flying fortress. There were numerous guards in the meeting room with us.” Angulus waved toward the other side of the castle, and Sardelle realized he did not yet know his councilmen were dead.
She closed her eyes, not wanting to be the one to give him more devastating news.
“The witch spoke into my mind and said that dragons were coming and that the end was inevitable for me,” Angulus went on, looking at Sardelle rather than Ridge and Therrik.
Grimly, she realized she probably was going to have to be the one to tell him. Ridge remained quiet, his eyes downcast, and she could feel his chagrin even with her senses locked down. She shared the emotion. Even if she hadn’t helped Eversong in any way, she had been too late to stop this destruction.
“I figured she would have no trouble finding me,” Angulus said, “even though we’d chosen one of the more secluded and private meeting rooms to discuss the Cofah threat and other problems around the nation. My guards were adamant that they’d be able to stop her, but I knew better. I grabbed a few of them, since they wouldn’t have let me leave the room without an escort. I didn’t know I was taking them to their deaths.” He kicked a rock across the room, frustration making his movements stiff. “We headed to the armory. There were fires everywhere on that side of the castle—I had the distinct impression she was trying to flush me out. I grabbed a few explosives from Kaika’s special stash and ran back down here. I couldn’t imagine that just throwing a bomb at Eversong would work, but I thought that if I was willing to sacrifice some of the castle, I might be able to trap her. She glimpsed me when I was on my way down into the basement and threw an attack at us.” Angulus touched the back of his head, and his fingers came away bloody.