Chapter 42
forty-two
. . .
Ever
“Is everyone okay?” Ten asks, but I already know the answer.
Raiden and Capella are crying and hugging each other closely, a rare sight in Kirrasia. I wish I felt guilt, but I only feel cold. Ascella had every opportunity to walk away, but she didn’t. She said she saw this coming, said I was death, and still didn’t heed her own warnings.
Her friends can mourn her, and I’m sorry they have to, but that’s the extent of my sorrow.
“Little help, here,” Kyra calls as she fusses over Calix.
“What happened?”
“It’s nothing,” he complains, but as Kyra pulls her hand away, there’s an ugly cut across his forearm. Blood stains her hands and smears his clothes. “Got a little close, that’s all.”
“A little close!” Kyra exclaims.
“Here.” Lyle comes over with a strip of cloth.
“Let me.” Capella takes it from her, sniffing and blinking away her tears. Where’s Perrin when you need him?
Capella takes his arm, and in a move similar to what Perrin has done in the past, presses her palm to Calix’s arm.
“You’re a healer?” I ask her.
“Possibly. I’d be able to help a lot more if our magic was responding. What happened? It’s like a new moon. I can still feel my power, but it’s like it’s been cut off from Aslendrix.” She doesn’t shift her attention from Calix, and then, giving up on magic, she binds his arm with the cloth.
“The Usher. He has this little trick where he seems to block out our magic.” I just didn’t know the full extent of his ability when I left.
He used it to stop me when I took Selina’s power, after my encounter with Novandia.
He stopped Fenix with it, too, so I assumed he could cut off our connection to Novandia, but here in Kirrasia, it’s clear he can cut off Aslendrix’s power, too.
If he can, his trick will take out his own army, who are Kirrian and draw from Aslendrix.
Which means the cards he’s playing have Novandia’s magic and are more powerful.
“And your brother? What can he do?”
My eyes skit around to find Ten, and I watch as my friends help Calix, a welcome change from when Fenix tortured him, and he had no one to help.
“He can stop you from moving, freeze every muscle in your body, and then manipulate and control you, without your consent.” The vision of watching Ten stalk towards me is the dark shadow in my mind, reminding me why we can’t let him win. “He’ll overtake your body, basically.”
“No one can do that,” Raiden’s voice holds the disbelief I once had.
“He can.” Ten’s voice is grim.
“If he’s here, I need to protect the stone. I need to go.”
“The forest. It’s got the easiest river crossing.” Kalan sheathes his blade and leads the way.
“Stone?” Raiden asks.
“The Transference Stone. That’s what he’s coming for.”
“If your brother is that powerful, and we don’t have our magic, won’t we need more than just, well, us?” Kyra asks, and I’m glad for the distraction from the Transference stone.
“He’s got to get through the Warriors and the other fighters. We’re the last line.” I say this. I hope this. But I’m not even sure I believe myself.
“Optimism isn’t your strong suit, Ever. Have I ever told you that?”
I smile at my friend. Apparently, Kyra doesn’t buy it, either.
Kalan leads us through the Variscite Forest. There are no paths or clear routes to take, but at least there’s still a glimmer of light.
The sky is ominous, but the Usher can’t banish the sun completely, or he’ll lose his connection to Novandia.
And the forest is much kinder with even a shard of daylight.
“Kalan. Tell me you picked up my brooch and didn’t leave it on the table where you left it.” I regret leaving it, now.
He makes a small chuckling sound, at odds with his usual gruff exterior.
“In case this was our path. Here.” He pulls out the golden piece of jewellery.
It was always too nice—too special—to risk taking it outside or anywhere, for that matter, until I bundled it in my bag and brought it here, back where it came from.
It’s a fitting circle that it now returns, and I’m placing my trust that it will, in fact, protect us, at least in here.
I take it from Kalan. “Thank you. Seems we might need it after all.” I squeeze it in my hand before slipping it under my vest top to pin it to my shirt for good luck.
As we go deeper into the boughs, I can feel something’s changed. The air is still and thick with anticipation. But something is different from when we came through the day before last. It’s cold. The air is chilled.
“Anyone else feel that?” I ask.
“It’s certainly not comfortable. What’s happening?” Kyra questions.
“Can he control the elements?” Lyle looks at me.
I shake my head. “No. He’s a Natural. A healer. He healed me. One of his inner circle, Selina, controlled the sea, water, but I took her magic,” I answer. “I didn’t meet many others.”
“Well, someone is shifting the weather or pulling it. They’re strong, powerful, and they still have their magic,” Kalan grumbles.
Another experiment, like my brother and Selina?
“You knew them, Kalan. Any other people the Usher might have, hiding out, able to do this?” Lyle accuses.
“No. None that I saw.” He doesn’t break pace or raise his voice.
With the shadowy light struggling to penetrate through the forest canopy, we reach the river. It was bad enough in the darkness. Now, with the air growing colder every minute, it’s terrifying.
“Let’s get to it,” Kalan hustles us, holding out his hand on the edge of the bank. Raiden goes first, her whole body tensing up as she wades into the water up to her waist and across to the other side.
One by one, we cross. Ten holds out his hand, but I don’t take it, regardless of what he said before, and he goes first, cursing under his breath.
“After you,” Kalan urges. The water isn’t just cold, it’s bitter, cutting through my clothes and attacking my skin the second I hit it.
“Oh, stars!” I clench my jaw and race to the other side, the icy blades stabbing all over my body as I pull myself out of the water.
As I climb out, there’s no respite. No relief.
Just freezing air that stifles any hope of warmth, stinging my cheeks, and cutting through my layers.
It makes me think of the sun and wish for the heat to burn down on us.
As I picture it in my mind, something heats in my chest—a glow.
An energy, and, as if answering a call, Novandia’s magic seems to stir.
Even though I’m frozen, I lock down that part of me, smother it, and shut it out, like stamping on the embers of a fire.
I still don’t fully understand what’s happened to me in Nehandun or since.
A possibility. An experiment. But I can feel the urge—the call—to answer to my magic. But I can’t, not around friends.
We’re all quiet, our pace quickened to keep warm in the freezing air.
When Kalan leads us out of the woods, we step out onto a blanket of snow, the ground white and beautiful.
In the dull light, it makes the area look bright and pretty, but I fear it’s only an illusion.
The Opal mountains, their peaks usually speckled with snow, are now covered. A white-out.
“Why?” I look around the clearing, noting that there are no other footprints except ours. I hug my arms to my body, trying to rub some heat into them.
“Maybe they are using Sur’gos. They live in the mountains, but only on the highest peaks. They’re cold creatures,” Calix says.
“Friendly creatures?” I check.
“No.” He shrugs his shoulders as if that’s enough of an explanation. Apart from Nettle, there haven’t been any nice creatures in Kirrasia.
“They’re coming from the north.” Ten steps forward, looks around, and despite not being connected to his power, I can see him building the scenarios in his head.
“I came from the north. Through the mountains. But if they’ve covered these with snow, then the easiest path to The Court will be across the lake. ”
“The lake?” I remember wanting to see it for its beauty—something so vast, like the mountains when I first arrived and crossed the border. My world was so small before, and I didn’t even realise it.
“If it’s frozen, they can walk right in and attack from the north, as that won’t be defended.”
“If they come in carefully, pick the route, they’d miss the Amenest outpost, if it’s still defended. The mountains, lake and forest act as natural defences for Kirrasia. It wouldn’t be easy, but they’ll have a clear shot,” Calix surmises for us.
“Great.”
“And we’ll be trapped. Kirrians and whoever they attack with, to the south.” Ten looks at me. “Your brother and the Usher to the north.”
His words are faint in my mind, like when he was over the border, but I’m grateful that strand of magic is still intact.
“Err, Calix. Why did you have to mention the Sur’gos?” Kyra’s voice is shaky as she looks up at the mountains dwarfing us. They seem so much bigger, more imposing now that they blend in with the snow and ice around us.
“It was just a theory.” He shrugs.
“So much for theory. Look.” Kyra points to the mountain, where we can see the outline of a grey creature. They’re too far up to make out any features, but it sends a paralysing fear through me.
The more we watch, the more movement we pick up. Creatures, dozens of them, scaling the snowy slopes as if venturing out.
“There’s not enough of us,” I mumble. Kyra was right. “There’s nobody else. The Warriors won’t get here. We don’t know who to trust, and the Usher is here.”
“We stand.” Raiden looks up at the mountain, but her voice rings clearly around us all.
“We stand,” I repeat. “But we need more weapons.” I turn to Kalan. “Can we call the Jarkoreth?”
“We, or you?” He stares at me and nods at the brooch I hid under my shirt.