44. Richterite
“Estela!” I scream as we beat against the door to the great manor.
My wife. My babe.
I take my sword and attempt to dig it into the dark fog-covered wood, but we are blown back. My body rattles as we hit the ground, and a dark figure appears out of another cloud of billowing mist. The smoke stings my face.
“Godsdamnit,” Vann grunts, sitting up next to me.
The remains of the slave’s rebellion and escape are scattered around us along with the evidence of our long fighting. At first glance, all of our troops have retreated. “King of the Enduares,” the cloaked black figure says, holding a baby in her arms.
I charge forward, sword pointed as Vann also gets to his feet. “Take me back to Estela!”
She holds up a hand and a wall of mist wraps around my weapon, tearing it away.
“I will not fight you this time,” she says. “Though I have not forgotten what happened to our sssisters.”
A snake curls around her neck, flicking its tongue toward the crying baby.
I shouldn’t care for that child. It’s the enemy…
And yet my heart breaks for it.
My fingers twitch to take it away. I can’t watch him die here.
“Teo,” Vann says, low voice full of warning.
As if sensing my thoughts, the witch raises the babe.
“The deal that bonded us to the giant king is over. I have no use for this little one, yet. Consider the baby a peace offering since you have been taking care of the Light Weaver’s daughter.”
I don’t wish to move, fearing the trap.
Sound from all around us begins to stir as the woman’s fingers begin to twist and contort.
I look around to see a sea of undead rising to their feet, just like the cold ones. Their gaping wounds turn grey as their unseeing eyes snap open, red as blood.
“Gods damn them all,” Vann exclaims, diving for his cleaver.
I also curse, watching the ugly creatures take ragged steps forward. Grabbing another weapon, I hold out the blade, ready to cut down each undead with Vann at my side.
“Take him as a gift or we will ensure he joins our army,” the witch says.
That causes me to pause.
“I accept,” I say, my grip on the sword loosening.
The second I step forward, black mists swirl in a raging vortex. It blows back both of us back onto our asses. Just as soon as it starts, it ends, leaving the baby on the ground.
Be wary of those who approach, troll king. May we not be enemies the next time we see each other.
The black voice rings in the air, leaving an acidic taste on my tongue, but I ignore it in favor of the giant baby wailing on the steps.
“Shit,” I say, grabbing the infant as Vann hacks at the impenetrable wood. “We need to get inside before those others arrive. If the women are gone, Rholker is still there.”
“Cave rat!” a new voice booms across the distance.
The ground trembles beneath our feet as the voice echoes through the air.
I hold the crying giant baby close to my chest, feeling its tiny heart pounding in fear.
Vann”s eyes narrow as he looks towards the source of the voice, his grip tightening on his cleaver.
Four giant lords and half a dozen warriors pour into the empty compound, their towering figures gleam with sweat in the overcast sunlight, highlighting their tattoos and sweaty skin. Their yellow eyes are something out of my nightmares.
“Give us the boy or we will kill you!” one calls out, his voice like thunder in the stormy sky above.
“Enough have died today,” I call out. “Do not come closer if you wish to live.”
The giant lords exchange glances, a low rumble passing through them as they consider my words. One of the warriors steps forward, his massive hands tightening around his war ax.
”You dare threaten us, cave rat?”
Vann brandishes his cleaver, the metal glinting in the dim light as he stands protectively in front of me and the wailing giant baby.
“Call me that again, tree rutter,” he challenges.
One of the giants cocks back his enormous spear.
When he hurls it, I take both Vann and me to the ground. The child wails.
I know we can”t let them take the boy, even if it is a giant.
With a deep breath, I focus my mind on the molten core of the earth beneath us.
Lava magic flows through my body, a power as old as time itself. The ground begins to shake violently as fiery cracks split open around us.
With a guttural cry, I unleash my magic, calling upon the power of the lava to rise up and protect us. Streams of molten fire burst forth, enveloping the giant lords in a wall of inferno. The heat is so intense it sears their skin, blistering and melting their tattoos. The giants are caught off guard by the sudden invocation, and their screams fill the air. Fire and lava continue to cover the area, reducing the ground beneath them to a savage, molten pit.
The volatile energy tears against me, overheating every part of my body and promising to inflict scars that will never fully heal.
Vann cries out, as does the boy he now holds.
“Run,” I pant, struggling to keep the magic at bay.
The lava cools at a rapid pace, and I lose my grip on the magma. The ground beneath us begins to move and shift again, by a force as powerful as my own.
But it’s not coming from me.
My skin begins to heat, as Vann races away, sensing his way along the stone and darting across the non-molten ground to one of the fallen walls. I feel helpless to the mounting magic. It’s like water running over my skin, leaving my body to be used elsewhere.
Silence descends, and then, seconds later, the walls of the manor explode.
That moment of peace was just as charged as the sound that rips past me, blowing me and everything else back. I land on the ground, hard, feeling my armor crunch against a dead body.
I don’t have time to look at the fallen when the light shines out around me, as brilliant as the explosion of the star.
Pain rips open my heart. Not from injury, but my mating bond. I clutch at the gem in my chest.
“Estela!”
I curse every god as I reach for the light.
Waves of sound and some other dimension wash around me. I push against it, even as it rams me backward. Every muscle screams at me as I move.
The white light stays, but the resistance fades. I only make it a short distance on my hands and knees before I slump over, feeling the light pulse around me, wondering if this is what it is like to be in the eye of a storm.
After another moment of rest, I look up and see the collapsed floor with two bodies impaled, connected together with a spear, leaning against each other for support. I would recognize the deep brown curls and small body in the rubble of the end of the world. The form behind her is easy to deduce.
Estela and Mikal.
The wail that rips past my lips is agony entombed in sound.
I hold my chest, and tears burn down my cheeks as a burst of adrenaline has me spinning toward my wife. I kneel in front of her and cup her cheek.
Her eyes flutter open, and her irises go in and out of focus.
“Mi amor?1. You have… all my stories,” she chokes out as a bit of blood drips down from the corner of her lip.
I shake my head, touching the spear through her chest.She winces.
“Teo, bury… the three of us together,” she pants.
“No, no, no,” I cry, abandoning the weapon in her chest for her face. “I made you a promise. You would never be taken again.”
She smiles, showing blood-soaked teeth. “I did everything I could to… make amends. Forgive me.”
She lets out a breath of pure life and then stills.
“You are gods-touched, Estela,” I command. “You will not die.”
In her chest, her Fuegorra flickers. It beats in time with my own.
I look up to the sky and scream the name of my goddess.
“Grutabela!” I call with every inch of conviction. I call with the fear of a man who has lost everything and refuses to do it again.
“Endu promised me that my wife would live—that we would live on. I let you take my mother, my father, my people, my home. I do not accept this!”
My belly and chest shake as a tear falls down my cheek.
The air around me shifts, and a woman emerges from the lingering light. She looks like Estela, save her shorter stature and fuller lips.
The Light Weaver.
She looks down on me, weary.
“Twice, I have intervened for my children. Once after Mikal was born, and then when Estela was kept captive. I… should not do it thrice.”
I look up at the woman. “Should not?”
She frowns. “They will be safe in the afterlife. Estela has done what she was meant to do. Rholker is dead, his father is dead, and her people are free.”
I sit there, helpless, next to the grotesque scene. “She and Mikal should be safe with me.”
The woman studies me. “You have others to care for.”
I shake my head.
“I have given my home, my love, my body—all for my people. Allow me to be godsdamned selfish for once,” I plead, kneeling before her with my arms stretched out on either side.
The Light Weaver looks down at me, sad, but silent.
“What do you want?” I demand. “You said you shouldn’t, not that you couldn’t.”
She presses her lips together. “You would give me something?”
I stand up, knowing that my wife is already gone. “I would give you anything but those who lay next to me.”
The woman studies me. “Your father took something, long ago. The power that flows through you.”
I grit my teeth. As if in response, my hands glow like they had after I pushed my father.
Estela’s mother Aitana steps forward.
“It is a sorrowful story told in the heavens, that Teo’Likh, with all his power, was not satisfied. He was given a gift, and then demanded more so he could play the part of a misguided savior and destroy the land.”
I press my lips together.
She looks at me. “The gods speak through me now. They are fond of you, approving even. Give back the stolen power, and they will return Estela and Mikal from the land of the dead.”
“I want our child, too.”
Aitana freezes. “Child?”
My heart pounds as I clench my teeth. “Didn’t you know Estela was pregnant?”
She blinks, and I swear her eyes are growing watery. “Then my children and the babe it shall be. Prepare to trade.”
I take a shaky breath. “Without my power, my people will be helpless.”
She shakes her head. “Not helpless. They will have your gods-touched queen. But the volcano… it will be dormant.”
“Will you take all my power?” I ask.
She frowns. “You seem to think you can negotiate. Do not mistake your gods’ pleasure at your clever spirit for weakness.”
It’s a hard blow, but love requires faith. And, with Estela, I have a lot to believe in. I nod my head. “Done.”
The woman raises her hand. “One last point. If I do this, I will never be able to save her again. I swear it. The gods do not take kindly to resurrection, for that is the realm of the demons.”
“You won’t have to. We grow stronger daily. I will keep her and her brother safe. I will protect our child,” I say resolutely.
Aitana frowns. “Power in exchange for lives.”
I take a deep breath. “Lives are taken for power every day, surely you can make the opposite true.”
She smiles, and then, closes her fingers in a hard fist. Her eyes leave mine, and I turn back to watch. The spear fades away into particles of light. Then the holes close, one by one.