Tala didn’t hear the roar Koschei made when it was Ken who stepped through the opening first, parrying the armor-clad man’s attack. She didn’t see her friends scrambling out after him to join the fight. All she could see at the moment was a pale-faced Ryker lying on the ground before her, his hands gripping at where the icicle remained lodged inside him.
“Don’t take it out!” she ordered harshly, grabbing at his hand, knowing that, like Cole, he would lose far too much blood the moment he did. “Hold on!”
A weak laugh from Ryker. “When I first saw this in my vision, I thought it was showing me my past—the night I stumbled into Maidenkeep after the Snow Queen stabbed me that first time. Didn’t realize till later that it was to be a repeat.”
The other Bandersnatchers were quick to take in the scene. West and Loki were already springing forward, providing fresh cover for Alex and Tristan, who were circling over to where Tala was cradling Ryker in her arms. The firebird was overhead, raking the ground with fire as it dashed for the Snow Queen, avoiding the ice she was throwing its way. Nya was following them, already digging frantically into her pouch.
Zoe, Cole, and even Adelaide were there, the first lashing out with her whip and sending waves of electricity at the Snow Queen, preventing her from approaching. Tala’s mother and the Cheshire were the next to jump out, and then Lola Urduja and the Katipuneros, and then Captain Mairead and her pirates, hollering for blood.
The weight of the undead army she was leading was catching up to Adelaide; she sagged down, breathing hard. Cole’s face was still paper-white from his previous ordeal, though the stubborn set to his jaw showed that he had insisted on coming, that both Zoe and his sister had given up on convincing him otherwise. Gently, he reached out and took Gravekeeper from her, then spun to demolish a group of shades clambering after him. He tossed the sword and this time Lord Nottingham caught it, fighting his way through another horde before passing it on to Cole’s mother, who was soon stabbing her way through another group, the Nottinghams switching the blade among themselves before one could grow tired, keeping control of their army.
“Don’t move,” Nya instructed tersely on reaching Tala and Ryker’s side.
“Yes, ma’am,” Ryker croaked.
The Snow Queen had lost interest in Tala and her former ward on catching sight of Alex. The hailstones that were unleashed in his direction were the size of small boulders. Tristan drew his arrow, sending a fresh wave of fire that melted most before they were halfway to them. The firebird was in fine fighting form, responding with its own version of a firestorm, turning the area around the Snow Queen into an inferno.
“We’re in a forest!” Zoe called sharply. “Be careful!” She was disobeying her own advice; the white-hot flashes of electric currents were running through the ground toward the Snow Queen, determined to burn her if the fires wouldn’t.
Alex had reached the Alatyr. Tala took her eyes off Ryker long enough to grab his arm. “Don’t you even think about it.”
“I’m the only one with the experience for this. Have you got any other bright ideas?”
“As a matter of fact, I do. I’m controlling the Alatyr.”
Alex stared at her. No doubt he could feel the intense energies emanating out of her skin, making her feel like she was made of lightning. “Tala, I—”
“Being able to negate magic even at its purest form apparently means there are no laws when it comes to me. Don’t you dare tell me I can’t when you’re just as willing to do it yourself.”
“Do you even know how to work it?”
“I think so. Alex, how the hell could you endure this?”
“Painfully. We can compare traumas later. How do you start this up?”
Gently, Tala turned Ryker over to Nya, who was working on trying to stanch the wound and keep the icicle from melting, and reached for her Agimat, which was still stuck to the Alatyr’s surface.
And the whole world opened up before her.
This must be what it feels like to be a god. This must be what Alex feels like whenever he uses the Nine Maidens, Tala thought, and it was a wonder to her that he had been able to stop himself from simply destroying everything he hated with it. It was like she could blast through the world if she wanted to. No wonder it had corrupted Koschei. No wonder the Snow Queen believed it would solve everything.
She and Alex could turn the full force of the Alatyr and the Nine Maidens on Koschei and the Snow Queen, ending them for good. But using it meant she would die. Using the Nine Maidens like this meant that Alex would die. Already the Alatyr’s magic was pulling energy out of her even before she could channel anything through, eager for the bits and pieces of her that it could whittle away even before she could cast any spell.
She remembered the vision she’d just seen, of her prone form amid a forest that was very much like this one, surviving the Snow Queen only by a few minutes, the spells from the Alatyr dissipating around her as she fell.
“No,” Ryker said and gently pushed Nya away. He grabbed Tala’s arm and wouldn’t let go.
“Ryker—”
“Zoe was right,” Ryker said. “I didn’t tell you everything I knew about the Alatyr and how it works. Not because I didn’t want you to know but because I knew you would stop me if you did.”
“What are you talking about?”
But it was too late. The adarna began to sing again, and Tala felt the familiar threads of its magic wrap around her and then extend toward Ryker. “What are you doing?” she cried, but the shadow bird refused to listen, continuing on until she could feel Ryker tapping into the Alatyr’s magic as well.
“I have the Snow Queen’s magic through me,” he whispered. “It’s not as strong as what you’re capable of, but it’s enough for me to tap into the Alatyr too. And since you’re here to negate anything else that would have prevented me more access…”
The battle was still waging around them. Ken, his face blank and stark, was going head to head with the revived Koschei, unflinching. Any blows he delivered to his opponent were received with little consequence. Any wounds that he received from Koschei amounted to the same. The two undeads hammered at each other, neither refusing to give in.
“I’m dying,” Ryker said. “You know this isn’t going to come out of my stomach any time soon.”
“Cole survived it. What makes you think you won’t—”
“Because Cole was never tied by magic to the Snow Queen beyond the shards she used to make him her Deathless,” Ryker said quietly. “I lied to you, Tala. When I told you that I was standing on that bridge after I escaped my last foster home, waiting to fall…I lied. I was so tired of everything and I…I didn’t wait for anyone to catch me.”
“Ryker,” Tala said, stricken.
“The Snow Queen found me in time. She had a knife—apparently it was from a shard of the mirror, the same one she used to save your father’s life centuries ago. She took pity on me, used it to save mine.”
Tala remembered the vision she’d had of a young Kay Warnock. The dagger the Snow Queen had used on him to bring him back to life, binding him to her for the rest of her unnatural life.
“That’s why I was with her for so long despite everything she did,” Ryker whispered. “There’s magic inside me still, keeping bits of me alive. It’s why she didn’t need to turn me like she did the other ice maidens. It’s the same kind of magic she used to keep your father immortal all these years.”
“You can’t ask me to do this,” Tala choked. “You can’t ask me to doom you, my father, and Alex as well. You can’t ask me to leave my mother alone.”
“Yes, we can, love.” Kay Warnock was there beside her, his large hand enveloping her small one. The adarna’s song continued, and this time it wrapped around her father as well. “Your mother and I knew this was a long time coming. The only way to prevent Koschei from returning permanently is to kill the Snow Queen and end this.”
Which meant everyone being kept alive by her magic would die as well. “You can’t ask me to do this,” Tala repeated desperately.
“The good news,” Ryker said with a smile, “is that we don’t need to ask you to.”
The vision he’d seen in the mirrors of the Ryugu-jo, the reason he had refused to tell Tala exactly how he was going to die—
The Alatyr is a crueler spell than the Nine Maidens, said Lord Suddene. The latter requires a sacrifice from a royal of the Avalon lineage, but the Alatyr consumed any sacrifice it found, used their life forces as batteries to power the next massacre—
“No,” Tala gasped as magic now fully surrounded Ryker, accepting his offering. “No!”
“Live long and well, Tala,” Ryker said, “and for what it’s worth, I love you.” The blinding light hid him from sight.
And then he was gone.
“It’s not enough,” the Cheshire said. Before anyone could stop him, he too was moving toward the grotesque spell. He ducked Loki’s frantic attempts to grab at him, then paused for a moment before the illuminated Alatyr, casting one final glance back at her. “No more regrets, Tala,” he said, and then he, too, was gone.
A song from the adarna’s shadow. The firebird roared out in agony, speeding frantically toward it, but another melody immobilized it midair, sent it crashing to the ground. The adarna sighed, gave the frozen bird a friendly peck with its beak in farewell. It, too, looked at Tala and sang her one last tune—an upbeat, lilting refrain. And then it turned and flew straight into the Alatyr after Ryker and the Cheshire. For a moment, it took on its original physical form, its splendid feathers and magnificent plume shining. And then it disappeared.
The Alatyr flared brighter, the magic too strong to hold back any longer. Tala gritted her teeth despite the tears falling from her eyes and redirected everything she had back toward the Alatyr.
“We don’t need you,” she wept. “We aren’t ready. Leave us and go where no one else can use you for greed ever again.” And then she brought her salamanca to bear and drove Agimat down on the obsidian once more.
For a moment, she wasn’t sure it succeeded. The Alatyr stood there, still teeming with spells that warped the air.
And then there was an odd, satisfying crack.
The Alatyr split. From the top of its irregularly shaped cylinder down to its very base, it broke apart, the bits flying off it swiftly turning into ash that soon dissipated.
Tala felt her hold on the Alatyr abruptly cut off but then heard Alex gasp as his connection with the Nine Maidens, too, was unceremoniously severed. Tristan caught the king easily when the latter staggered back, suddenly weakened but still alive. “I can’t sense it,” he whispered. “I’ve shared a bond with it nearly all my life, and now it’s—”
“Pledge your love to the blackest flag,” Tala said, echoing Alex’s prophecy that was now, at last, fulfilled. Alex had naturally assumed that it would be his love to pledge, but—
Was that what happened? Was this the result of Tala’s choice to wield the Nameless Sword again, changing their destiny one more time?
“No!” the Snow Queen screamed, but the Alatyr continued to destroy itself, the massive column being broken apart by no other forces but its own, until not even its very foundations remained. The black obsidian monument was gone. All that remained was a strange black box—the tamatebako where the Snow Queen had kept Koschei’s soul.
And it was opening.
Koschei fell back but had enough of his own magic to keep fighting, to attempt one last stand, one more trick. Ken was still fighting him, still showing no mercy. The Snow Queen ignored them both; already she was flying toward the box, her eyes alive with rage.
Tala righted herself. She reached the platform before the Snow Queen could, Agimat raised above her head. With one last move, she drove the blade down toward the box.
It shattered.
The Snow Queen’s scream was now fearful. Mist rose from the box, which crumpled like it had been made of paper. Tala saw something writhe and recoil within that thin dark mist before it evaporated completely from view.
It was the Snow Queen’s turn to fall. Kay caught her easily.
An inhuman roar from Koschei. Smoke rose from within his armor as he began to burn from inside. He screamed and clawed frantically at his visor, to no avail. Within seconds, he was ashes and soot, nothing of him remaining.
A loud cry rose from among the ice maidens. They began to melt as the magic that the Snow Queen once commanded and had now lost left their bodies, and they melted where they stood. Vivien Fey cried out, clutching at her heart. “No,” she said, frightened. “No!”
She reached out blindly and found Loki, the nearest to be grabbed. The ranger held her, unable to do anything as she slowly began to dissipate. “I’m sorry,” they said quietly, kind to a fault, even till the end.
“I did it for her,” Vivien said. “All I ever wanted was revenge for her sake. Maybe I can find her this time.” Her voice dipped. “You tried to save me, didn’t you? No matter how badly I didn’t want you to. But even so, even now, I regret nothing. I would do it all over again. I wish—”
And then she dissolved, a waterfall splashing at Loki’s feet.
The Snow Queen opened her eyes, trained her gaze on Kay. “Kay,” she whispered. “How did we ever go wrong?”
“Sleep now, Gerda,” Tala’s father said sadly. “You’ve fought for so long, and now it’s time for you to rest.”
The Snow Queen shuddered as the last of the spells that kept her alive, the magic that tied her inexorably to what had remained of Koschei’s soul, slipped away from her. “I am sorry,” she said and closed her eyes.
Gently, Kay set her down on the ground when she began to dissipate as well, and he looked down at his own hands. Particles of magic were rising from his body as if he, too, was in the process of being turned into light.
Tala dashed to his side, reaching him just as her mother did. His arms wrapped around them both, holding them dearly even as parts of him turned to ether. “Kay,” Tala’s mother wept.
“Been a bother to you two for a while, haven’t I?” Kay said. “The both of you, always having to clean up after me, having to shoulder my sins like they were your own. Don’t be sad, my loves. I had a good life with you both. The best life.”
“Dad,” Tala sobbed. “You can’t—we have to find a way. I won’t—I love you so much.”
“Not as much as the depths of my love for you, my Tala.” With a fading hand, her father drew her closer, kissed her softly on the forehead. Then he turned and kissed his wife. “I’ll be here even if you both don’t know it,” he said. “I’ll be here all your lives, and then I will see you both again one day.”
And then all the rest of him trickled up into the sky above, blowing into the wind.
The undead were silent and waiting. Adelaide turned to address them.
“You have performed your service admirably,” she said. “Rest well, and know that you have honored your vows to us and to Avalon, and that we shall honor you in turn.”
The corpses said not a word, only inclined their heads low. And then they too began to disappear.
“No!” Nya shouted. “I claim surety on one Kensington Inoue and forbid him his rest.”
A pause. Ken turned to her, expression cold and forbidding.
Nya took out the ruby-red tamatebako, held it out before her. “I captured your shadow,” she said, “the same way Urashima Taro once bound his shadow into the jeweled boxes within the Ryugu-jo to save his life. Your shade rests within this box. For as long as it remains intact, your life is mine to protect. Return to life, and return to me.”
The box opened. Something bright and glowing fluttered out of it, like the bright butterflies at Ikpe village they used for protection, and surrounded Ken. The boy looked down at Nya’s determined face, at her tears. And then he took a deep breath, the first he’d had since rising from his grave.
“I trust you, Rapunzel,” he said and smiled, and it was an arrestingly cheerful grin, one so much like the ones he often wore when he was alive. A sizzle of light went through him, and then he and the glowing light were gone.
Nya dropped to the ground, still hugging the empty box to her chest, and wept.
Alex sat up, his arm slung over Tristan’s neck while the latter helped him stay upright. “Tala,” he said.
The firebird walked toward Tala’s feet and curled itself up there. It folded its wings around Tala’s knees and buried its face against her calf, and Tala clung desperately to its warmth, knowing nothing else would ever be the same.
The portal was still there, held up by the fading remnants of Buyan magic, slowly shrinking as it, too, began to fade.
“You know that we’re not likely to open this port again without the Alatyr or the Nine Maidens,” Captain Mairead pointed out.
“Who knows what sort of magic we could learn within, even without the Alatyr,” Lord Keer agreed.
Tala and Alex looked at each other. “If we aren’t able to use the resources we already have to make this world better,” the young king said, “then Buyan spelltech changes nothing. Let’s wait for a future wiser and kinder than our present, with spelltech we develop ourselves, to deserve another visit here.”
Tala lifted Agimat. The sword cut swiftly through the portal. It swelled up for a few seconds as if in protest and then disappeared abruptly, like a candle snuffed out without warning, until it was like it had never existed at all.