Chapter 18
Melelea
Present Day
I’m in a cave, sitting on the throne of bones. The magic in them vibrates beneath me, waiting to be awakened. My lips curve into a cruel smile, and my eyes slide to the mouth of the cave where the storm outside is slowing.
Perfect.
“Hello . . . Melelea.” The sound is coming from my mind, but the voice is not my own. It is deep and dark. A monster’s voice.
“You wound me with such thoughts,” the voice says, amusement in its tone.
I’m dreaming of the demon, I realize, more clearly than ever before. I am in his head . . . and he is in mine.
“Yes, now you are getting it,” Grazrath says. “You may be seeing what I see, but I know everything that you know . . . everything.”
Alarm courses through me. He could be lying. Must be lying. Still, I need to be careful with my thoughts. He’ll be able to see anything that I actively think of, so I try to think of nothing, so that he doesn’t use what I know to help him with his twisted plans.
“I’m not lying. I already know what you know,” he says with cruel laughter coloring his voice. “About where you are, who you are with . . . and the baby.”
Mentally, I rear back, trying desperately to sever the connection between us. No! Not the baby! Anything but that! But the demon grabs onto my thoughts with a brutal grip, holding me as surely as if I were physically there.
“That’s right, Melelea. I know about the queen’s child.
Can you imagine the magic of a child whose mother is Fairy-Blessed and whose grandmother is one of the last of the troll sasari?
When I take Adalind, I’ll rip the child straight from her womb and drain it of its magic, every last drop.
Who knows? Maybe that will be enough for me to become invulnerable again.
And if not? Oh, well. I’ll still have your precious daughter-in-law.
Convenient how she can heal from any abuse I enact on her. ”
The demon’s mental claws tear into my mind, shredding my concentration and determination to keep him at bay. I can’t help it, I scream. Which only makes the demon laugh harder.
He continues, “And you’ll help me, won’t you, Melelea?
You’ve let yourself be delivered to me in a neat little package.
I’ll dig you out, and take you and drain you.
Then I’ll harness the dragon’s bones, and Ilustan will fall.
I’ll put your son’s head on a spike and take his weeping wife in front of it and laugh while she screams. And you won’t even be able to watch it from the Nether because I’ll drain not only your mana, but your entire soul until there is nothing left of you. ”
I struggle against his mental hold, trying to tear away before he can say any more terrible things.
I can see in his mind that he means them.
In his mind’s eye, I can clearly see Rognar’s horrible death and Adalind’s unending pain.
Archdemons pouring out of the Nether across Anar’i, destruction in their wake.
The world on fire, turning to ash beneath his feet.
Images that cause despair and agony to course through my veins.
Finally, Grazrath releases me, his thoughts smug at the ruin he has wrought, the hope he has crushed.
“So be a good little seer, and wait for me. Won’t you?”
???
I WAKE WITH a scream, fighting arms that are holding me down.
“Peace!” I hear a familiar voice rumble in my ear. “Melelea, peace!”
I sob in both relief and residual terror, the fight leaving me as I remember where I am, who I am with. Wodred.
The orc’s arms tighten comfortingly around me, a warm, heavy hand coming to the back of my head, holding my face to his shoulder as I take in shuddering breaths, trying to quiet my sobs.
“It was the demon, wasn’t it?” he asks, his voice grim.
I nod wordlessly, unable to explain what I saw, what I was shown. The images that have somehow been burned into my mind.
“What does he want?” Wodred presses, still holding me in his strong arms. His hand on my head begins gently stroking my hair, a soothing gesture.
It takes me a moment to calm down enough to answer him.
It is not that I have never known abuse and terror before.
I have lived with grace and resilience under horrible conditions in the past, but something about being in Grazrath’s mind, feeling his certainty that he would win, seeing his plans, has shaken me to my very core.
It is as if he took my hope and determination and burned them to ashes, the same way he plans to do to Anar’i.
But being in Wodred’s arms, I feel the illusion of safety, if only for this moment.
His pleasant cedar scent washes over me, the warmth of the heat charm surrounds me, his warm hands a welcome weight on my body that grounds me, and I finally pull myself together so that I can answer.
“It was a mistake for me to come here,” I finally say, resignation in my voice.
“It’s me he wants. He tricked me with what he showed me.
The bones that I saw last time are inert.
He can’t use them. They require magic to harvest their power, and Grazrath plans to drain me of my mana and use that to access the bones.
If I hadn’t come, then he would be farther from his goal. My quest was foolishness.”
Wodred tenses beneath me at my words. Then he carefully says, “It wasn’t a mistake.
It was a risk. Perhaps we could have been more careful, true, but all wars come with risk.
But, that’s what we are fighting, a war, or at least standing at the precipice of one.
If we can kill Grazrath before he takes Ilustan, it will save not just our countries, but all of Anar’i.
Countless innocent lives. It was not foolishness that brought you, but bravery. ”
“What good is bravery when it is playing right into the enemy’s hands?” I ask, perhaps a touch bitterly.
“Bravery is what wins wars,” Wodred replies simply.
“That and tenacity. We just need to not give up. Besides, who is to say that the demon isn’t lying about this being part of his plan?
He could not have meant for me to survive when he had his imp bring down the avalanche.
He’s still vulnerable, still wounded from the last time I faced him.
Get me close enough to him and I’ll kill him this time, and he and his plans will be no more. ”
“I wish I could believe what you are saying, but you weren’t in the demon’s mind,” I insist. “It’s hard not to feel that it’s not all hopeless,”
“It may be hopeless,” Wodred acknowledges, “and we may even lose. Nothing is guaranteed in war, especially when you battle an evil creature of legend. But that doesn't mean that we should stop trying. At the very least, let us not make it easy for that son of a whore to get what he wants.”
I latch onto Wodred’s quiet optimism, the soft, sure timbre of his words. He’s right. The lives of those I love are counting on me to not give up. If I stay sitting and waiting for Grazrath to get his hands on me, I would be, in his words, delivering my family in a neat package into his hands.
I will not do that. Not willingly, at any rate. At the very least, I can fight to my very last breath.
“Give me a knife,” I command Wodred.
“Why?” he asks warily. I can see in the dim light of the mine that his brows are knit with concern.
“If it appears that Grazrath is going to win and take me, if his imps get a hold of me, I need to be able to keep him from my magic, even if it means that I kill myself before he can drain me. He can’t take mana from a corpse.”
“That will not happen,” Wodred responds, his voice harsh.
“Please,” I say gently. “Understand that it is not my first choice, but I need to be able to deprive him of the magic he craves. If it means saving my family from what he intends for them, I will do anything. Let me have that power.”
Wodred hesitates, and I can almost make out something like anguish on his features before he stiffly nods.
I feel one of his hands leave my body and delve into his belt under the cloak.
He pulls out a dagger in a sheath about the length of my forearm and presses it into my hands.
I can feel the ornate filigree of the metal on the hilt as I take it, the sign of this being a fine orc-make blade.
“Drive it firmly into the side of your neck through to the other side, as speedily as possible,” he says gravely.
“This will sever the carotid artery. It will be the quickest and most painless way to go. If you cannot reach your neck, drive it into the join between your leg and hip to cut the femoral artery. You’ll bleed out in seconds. ”
“I understand,” I say, taking the dagger.
I recognize the kindness in his instruction, even though what we discuss is my death.
“Thank you, Wodred. For trusting me.” I fidget slightly on his lap so that I can tuck the blade into my own belt.
My hands touch the embroidered leather pouch of runes that I carry there, reminding me of their presence. It gives me an idea.
“I always trust you to know what you are doing, but please,” Wodred says, breaking into my thoughts, still sounding grim, “make sure there is no other way before you take such a step. It is something that you cannot take back. I would never forgive myself if our kingdom lost you when there was another chance to succeed without your death.”
“I will be prudent,” I tell him. “Only as a last resort.”
“A last last resort,” Wodred says, the frown evident in his voice.
“I do not hold my life so cheaply that I will panic and kill myself,” I assure him. “I will only do so if there is no other way to stop Grazrath.”
Above me, Wodred nods. I can feel his chin tickle the top of my horns as it moves, his facial hair brushing the tips.
“If that is sorted,” he says gruffly, “we should get a move on. We don’t want to just be sitting here when the imps dig through into the mines.”