Chapter 58 #2
Lyriat paced on the dais above the din, a harried male she didn’t recognize speaking below him. His arms flung out, the gesture frantic, and Lunara spotted the tattoos marking his body as the sleeve of his battle robe slipped back. A Wolflord, then.
“Move!” Magnus pushed through the crowd, cutting through them like a knife and dragging her along. “Andreus?”
The male turned, slumping in relief. “Your Highness, thank the Sisters,” he breathed, bending at the waist with a fist to his chest.
Lyriat rushed straight to Lunara, offering his arm. “Come,” he said under his breath. “You’ll want to sit for this.”
“Please.” Her nails sunk into his flesh of their own accord. “Tell me they’ve found him.”
He led her up the steps and urged her to sit in Brand’s throne. “Yes, but steel yourself.” To the Wolflord, he said, “Again, Andreus. From the beginning.”
She focused all her attention on listening, instead of the furious pounding in her chest. Against the desire to fly out into the realms right away, tearing them apart to find him.
“Aye, Your Majesty.” Swallowing, he gathered himself.
“A few hours ago, scouts returned to Fanghold to report that the Ghostbor Dread Chasm was rapidly shrinking. Caius went to the border immediately, a contingent of warriors with him, to stem the droves of Forgotten leaping across. When they got there, they found the missing Son, Brandir, instead. He was the one doing it, closing the chasm with his power.”
Lunara’s pulse throbbed in her ears, a deafening sound that threatened to devour her. She could hardly eke out the words, “Where is he? Where is my mate?”
“We don’t know exactly, my lady,” Andreus admitted. “Before anyone could reach him, the two lands slammed together, and he disappeared within a cloud of shadow. The only certainty is that he… he did not look well.”
She barely held in the scream clawing its way up her throat.
“The rest, Andreus,” Lyriat snapped.
“Aye, sire. Caius and two others followed the shadows, all the way to the Thodelemaia Dread Chasm, but were unable to follow when it went over the edge and into the darkness.”
The world stilled, then shifted. Perked up. Looking at her. Waiting.
“Where on the Westrealm’s southern border did this happen?”
Somehow, she already knew the answer, but she needed to hear it spoken.
“Directly south of the lost village of Glynmor, my lady. Also overrun with Forgotten, but Caius and his warriors paid them no heed, since they were too few against so many and there was no one nearby to need help.”
Magnus was vibrating with fury, features twisting as his beast rose up, but it was Thaddeus who spoke. “Where is my father now?”
Andreus cleared his throat. “Back in the Westglen, battling Forgotten and other monstrosities, the likes of which I’ve never seen.”
Magnus and Thaddeus pinned her with mirrored looks of alarm. Lunara tried to tame the churning in her stomach, but it was no use. She might actually be sick.
Dreadbeasts—and Brand had helped to bring them over.
He would never. It isn’t what it seems. It can’t be.
“Have messengers been sent to the other realms to beg for aid?” Magnus asked.
“Aye, Your Highness. Only the Imperial Heir has promised his support. The Elder Council of Nachthelliae have refused, citing their own complications. No word from the Kohamaian Queens.”
Araxis misted to her side and bent to her ear.
“I know we just escaped. I know you think you aren’t ready to be known, but controlling Illamiata means controlling the Evesong.
As Keeper, you command legions now, Lunara.
Unconditionally. Every adult Sorcerit will gladly do your bidding, if you have the strength to call upon them. ”
What!
It was a struggle to slog through the hatred. To toss aside the bitterness rising up over the fact that, mere hours ago, she’d been dead to them—and that a majority of the Elders knew themselves to be partially responsible for her and her parents’ deaths. This male included.
That’s for later.
Right. Still.
“That’s disgusting,” she hissed. “I can wield their loyalty, hold their lives and futures in my hands, because of what I am? No training. No knowledge or guidance.”
“That about sums it up.”
“That’s fucking wrong. Unspeakable.”
“Yes, well…” His jaw ticked, eyes falling to the floor. “What is unspeakable power for, if not exactly this?”
“Change. As soon as this bleeding shite is over with.” Lunara stood, a cold calm suffusing her bones even as her heart sought to hammer its way out of her.
You can do it, just this once. For Brand.
“You will go to the Evesong, Andreus.” She was amazed her voice could sound so steady.
Reaching through the ether, she plucked up the crimson pillow the Tear Stone had just been resting on and stepped down to place it in his hands.
A message. “You will tell them the Keeper sent you and orders the legions to Thodelebor—half to the Ghostbor chasm, half to the Thodelemaia.” She looked back at Araxis.
The details of rank were muddled, beyond her, but it was his own words forcing her to act, so fuck him.
“The Fifth Imperial Son will lead them in the west. I will meet the others near Glynmor, in the fields.”
Andreus darted his gaze between Magnus and Lyriat, clearly unsure of what to do, and something in her snapped.
“Don’t look at them, Andreus. Look at me.
” Her tone was far more gentle than she felt.
When he did, she let some of her new power surge to the surface, to harmlessly batter against all who were present in the hall.
“I am Lunara the Moonweaver, Keeper of Illamiata, and blessed mate to Brandir aht Bordoroth. I hold as much sway as any of these other males, and I am telling you to go. Now.”
Impeccably dramatic.
The silence was deafening.
Thaddeus cleared his throat. “I’m with you, Andreus,” he said, stepping forward to clap a hand on his shoulder. He looked older, somehow. So serious. “First to the Evesong, and then back home. My father needs us, aye?”
Andreus blinked rapidly, awe written on every line of his young face. “Aye.”
“Ach, get on with it then. We’ve got work to do.”
Shaking his head, Andreus drew himself up and nodded, spinning and sprinting for the portal.
“I’ll see it done, Lunara.” Thaddeus backed away, a fist to his chest. “You bring my cousin back.” With that, he and Andreus were gone.
Hedda and Faldir appeared through the throng to take their place, towering over her.
Lunara let her power die and stumbled down the remaining steps as Hedda knelt in front of her and leaned in close. “Bloody well done, Sorcerit.”
“Thank you, I think. Except now, what?” She’d exhausted the limits of her wherewithal. Had no bleeding clue how to proceed. “I don’t know what to do.”
“Good thing I am their Second Commander, then.”
Hedda and Lyriat shared a look, the king giving a firm nod. “I will lead half of ours with Araxis,” he said, then turned to Lunara. “The other half is yours.”
Umm…
“Mine?”
Hedda gifted her with a savage smile. “Another lesson for my pupil—motivation and inspiration are important in warfare. Trust me, my friend. A little bravado goes a long way. Try to play along.” She stood, her voice booming over the chaos.
“Demons of the Montrealm! The Wolflords of the Westrealm need you. Our Son needs you. Who will follow Lunara the Moonweaver in his stead? Who will bleed for Brandir’s mate in glorious battle? ”
Lyriat’s markings appeared, his chest heaving as he grew and grew, stepping down from the dais and into the crowd as he began to chant.
The room erupted alongside their king. Weapons beat against shields. Against the flagstones. Against horn and fist.
“Hoo, hoo, hoo!”
Over and over, building in volume until the windows shook. Until it joined Illamiata’s song in her bones and that same feeling from before—when she’d felt the ground for the first time after accepting the stone, felt its latent energy—whispered again to her now. Begged for her to reach out.
There was no need to fake it. No need to play along, as Hedda had put it. Not when Lunara followed Illamiata’s silent nudging—its request to answer the call and burn free—and instinct, deep and ancient, took hold.
With a cry, prismatic power poured from her—a shockwave of dancing threads. They touched down on each and every Demon gathered, sipping from their essence and giving a piece of herself in return.
Red seeped into her vision, a fire that spread to her veins. Bloodlust and fury boiled in equal measure and, for just a moment, she was changed.
She was Straelon’s sparkling sea and its crashing waves. She was the wood these creatures worked and the stone they shaped. She was their whorling power. Their colossal might. The righteous devastation of their rage made manifest.
For just a moment, Lunara was Demon.
Lyriat’s grin put Hedda’s to shame, his brutal bass rumbling beneath the roaring cacophony. “We will tear them limb from limb.”
“Limb from fucking limb,” she growled. “For Brand!”
“For Brand!”