44. Maddy
Chapter 44
Maddy
T hyrvi and I give them as much hell as we can manage, but it's simply not enough.
The odds are impossible. Between Ishild's overwhelming power and Inga's flaming bear, Thyrvi doesn't stand a chance.
I summon every bit of magic I possess, creating a maelstrom of snow and ice. My shards find their marks, piercing flesh and drawing blood, but it takes horrifically little time for three Frost Giants to overpower me. When Erik gets close enough, his snake strikes, and the sedative spreads instantly, turning my limbs to lead.
"Thyrvi!" My voice cracks with desperation.
She rears, swiping at Brunnin as Ishild moves behind her.
"I will paint the snow with their blood!" she roars in my mind, but fear claws at my chest.
She can't win, and I'm helpless. If I lose consciousness, she'll be trapped here.
"Thyrvi, they will use you against me! I'm sorry, it's only for a short while, I promise," I choke out. Before she can argue, I dismiss her to the darkness.
It's the safest place for her. If they hurt her, my tenuous control will snap. And I have to stay in control.
Massive hands scoop me up, and I try to fight, but the sedative keeps my limbs useless.
"Let me go!"
Keeping my emotions in general at bay is hard enough. Keeping my fear at bay as the Giant drops me into a creaky woven crate is even harder.
"Mother! Let me go!"
I manage to roll my inert body enough to see that Inga is tying a rope to the top of the crate, a vicious smile on her face.
They're going to hang me off the side of the mountain.
I'm not afraid of heights, but this cage has holes between its woven bars easily big enough for a leg to slip through. I try to stabilize myself as best I can with my limited mobility, and issue a solid string of curse words as they lower me over the side.
The cage swings, and I look down. The ground is impossibly far below, a swath of deadly white.
My stomach swoops with instinctual terror.
Apparently it doesn't matter if I'm not scared of heights—being dangled off the side of a mountain causes a primitive fear I can't subdue.
My mother's voice drifts down. "Tell me where the tiara is."
There's a creeping feeling in my mind. Orgid's shadow magic.
The screaming starts distantly, then builds until it's all I can hear. Images flood my consciousness—Sarra torn apart by shrieks, her body re-forming into one of them while still wearing her human face. Kain burning entire villages, his curse spreading like wildfire while he laughs. My sister's death plays over and over, each time more violent than the last.
Blood runs down stone walls. Shadows chase screaming victims through endless corridors. Each vision is more horrific than the last, each scream more desperate.
My mother's voice comes again. "Tell me where the tiara is."
I keep my mouth shut, my eyes closed, and try to breathe evenly through my nose.
But it's too much.
I can't see these awful things, suppress this growing, twisted fear any longer.
Something in my mind snaps, and with a mental jerk, I'm in the gallery.
I blink around at the blessedly cool, silent sanctuary.
Orgid can't get to me here.
The screaming has stopped. The blood can't follow.
I'm safe.
I wander the familiar corridors, touching statues at random, reliving happier moments to drown out the echoes of horror.
But something's wrong. The longer I stay, the more the gallery… shifts. Statues begin to move and whisper when I'm not looking. Memories play out of order, bleeding into each other like watercolors. I see myself in memories I know I wasn't part of. Time becomes fluid, meaningless.
I pop back to reality occasionally, but the shadows and blood drive me straight back to the gallery. Each return trip makes the distortions worse.
Eventually I poke my head into reality, and there's quiet.
No screaming, no blood. I'm not in the cage anymore. I'm back in my cell.
I call Thyrvi instantly. She materializes, dark eyes narrowed at me.
"You sent me away," she says tightly.
"I had to. They would have hurt you," I say. "Why… why are there three of you?"
"Something is wrong," Thyrvi says in my head, and it sounds like she's underwater, her words bubbling and warping. "You are slurring your words."
I stare at the middle Thyrvi and try to think.
It's like there's two parts of my brain. One part is lucid and alert. The other is utterly out of it.
You've never spent that much time in the gallery. Something is wrong with your grip on reality, the lucid part says.
You should teach Thyrvi to dance, especially as there are three of her now, the other part says.
I lie back and try again to speak to my bear.
"I think I'm delirious," I manage to say, though the words feel wrong in my mouth. "You need to stop me doing anything stupid."
"You need to rest."
"Why are you underwater?"
I close my eyes because the three bears hovering over me are distracting, their fur rippling.
"Sleep. I will guard you."
I snort. "I've been unconscious most of the day. They can do whatever the fuck they like to me."
My stomach lurches suddenly, and I sit up.
"What is wrong?" Thyrvi's concerned voice bubbles in my head.
"I thought I was going to be sick. But actually, I think I'm hungry. Do we have any?—"
I faint before I finish the sentence.
I drift in and out of delirious sleep for an indeterminate number of hours, and worryingly, I faint four times in that same period.
My dreams are brutal. They are half asleep, half waking, and they are filled with the shadow visions.
For about an hour I just cry, saying my sister's name over and over. I'm too confused to even understand what I'm crying about.
Only Thyrvi's solid presence anchors me, her fur real beneath my fingers even when I see it move like flames, and I finally fall into a proper sleep pressed into her, blissful nothingness engulfing me.
When I wake, I can see straight. I don't feel sick anymore. My head hurts, but I can think clearly, even if my memories of the day in the cage are a bit fuzzy.
Thyrvi's head is cocked, and she's looking at the door.
"How long have I been asleep?" I murmur.
"Too long. There's someone out there."
"No," I whisper. "I don't know if I can spend another whole day in the gallery. I might send myself mad. But…" I close my fingers into her fur, drawing enough strength to make my confession. "I don't know if I can handle Orgid's magic without cracking."
Madness or terror.
That's the choice I must make.