Chapter Forty-six

Lorelle

As Tovos marched Lorelle before him from the Nox palace, she felt the five little threads of her soul burning inside her. They glowed gold and the golden lock of her hair glowed as well, as though the two were directly connected. It was like it had been in Usara, no torturous burning engulfing her entire body, but that little collection of threads yearned for Khyven. More than anyone else, she wished he was here now.

At first, she’d thought the burning was just a response to Tovos and his insidious control over her. But as her body marched up a gentle rise and crested the top, her heart stopped. Those five threads were burning for the same reason they had in Usara. Khyven was here.

She quailed as she looked down at the small glade.

No! No! No!

They were all here. Khyven stood with his sword at Zaith’s throat. Slayter leaned against a tree, stooped from exhaustion and searching his cylinder of spells.

At least Vohn wasn’t here. At least…

No!

Vohn lay face up, a black-feathered arrow sticking out of his chest. His eyes were open, but he didn’t move, didn’t blink. She couldn’t tell at this distance whether was dead or not. She couldn’t see if he was breathing.

She’d left them in Usara. She’d left them safe! The whole point of her leaving them behind and going with Zaith was so she wouldn’t have to lose any more of her friends. She was supposed to do this alone. They weren’t supposed to be here!

“Khyven!” she called in anguish, surprising herself. She hadn’t been able to say or do anything since Tovos had taken firm control of her. She hadn’t actually meant to say Khyven’s name. She’d meant to shout at them to leave, to run. To get away before the Giant saw them, but all that had emerged was “Khyven,” as though it was spoken straight from those five golden threads themselves.

Khyven glanced up, assessing her like he’d assess an enemy, as though she was distracting him from the kill.

But then he froze. His eyes widened.

“Lorelle?”

“Keep your wits about you, Khyven the Unkillable,” Zaith reminded him.

“What did you do to her?” Khyven demanded.

“Um, that’s a Giant,” Slayter murmured as Tovos rose to stand behind Lorelle.

Too late! Lorelle screamed in her mind. Too late!

Khyven, Zaith, and Tovos slung words back and forth, but Lorelle stared at Vohn lying dead in the grass. Little Vohn. Always the first with a gentle gesture or a kind word when it was most needed. Always the last to turn to violence. He hated weapons. What was he doing here in the middle of the Great Noktum? How could Khyven have brought him here?

No… she thought. I brought them here.

Did she really think they wouldn’t try to find her? A tear snaked down her cheek, the only evidence that her body was still her own.

Then she saw Vohn move. His chest rose just a little, an indrawn breath. He was alive! There was still time to save him!

She struggled against Tovos’s control again, putting every ounce of herself into breaking his hold…

But it was like trying to break a brick wall with a willow switch. Dizzy, she overheard Tovos speaking as though he was far away.

“I wouldn’t give you the honor of dying by my hand,” the Giant said to Zaith.

Suddenly, the grip within Lorelle tightened, seizing her, and her body leapt forward. She swung Tovos’s dagger—a short sword in her hand—at Zaith. He brought his sword up, but she batted it aside and moved behind him, laying the blade against his throat.

No!

“Lorelle. I’m sorry,” Zaith said.

Tovos forced her to grab Zaith’s hair and pull his head back. She knew what was coming next and she tried to stop herself. The command to kill him thrummed through her, but she fought it. She screamed inside her own mind so loudly she felt numb.

Her body twitched, but she held it.

“I’m so sorry,” Zaith whispered, and she saw everything he felt in that gaze. His failure to help his people. The anguish of losing his family. And love for her.

He looked past her, and his gaze fixed on Khyven.

“Don’t,” Zaith said. “Remember what I said, Khyven the Unkillable.”

“Now,” Tovos commanded. The shadows within her twisted. This time, Tovos’s will came down like an avalanche.

“Khyven!” she shouted, but Tovos smashed her resistance.

She pulled the dagger, felt Zaith’s throat give, saw the blood come. Zaith reacted like he couldn’t feel the deadly cut. His eyelids drooped.

Lorelle screamed silently, and it rent her sanity.

She tried to reach out, to stanch the flow, to try to hold Zaith together, but Tovos didn’t let her. Zaith slumped to the side and the light left his eyes.

Tovos turned her body around, taking her away from Zaith, taking her away from her friends.

Khyven and Slayter, bound by shadows, floated next to her, preceding the Giant. The mage’s eyes watched everything with interest as he floated over the ground, like he was taking mental notes. Khyven thrashed and struggled, but the shadow tentacles held him tight.

“Vohn!” Khyven strained to look over his shoulder at the prone Shadowvar. “You bastard! Take him with us! He needs help!”

As Tovos forced her to continue forward, she only had a brief, final glance at Vohn. His eyes were open, glazed, and he looked dead. She couldn’t tell if he was breathing anymore.

Tovos opened his cloak, a noktum cloak like Zaith’s, and it swirled around all of them. Lorelle’s body obligingly stepped into the Dark as she screamed denial. She felt the tingling wash of darkness flow through her and around her. It felt warm and close, comforting like the gentle rush of spring air.

The darkness parted and Lorelle found herself standing in a stone room with a dozen archways. Tovos stood next to her, with Khyven and Slayter hovering in the grip of shadow tentacles.

A dozen thick, squat men, about half the height of a Human, stood there as though they’d been waiting for Tovos to arrive. They had burly shoulders and faces that looked as if they’d been compressed, with square flat noses and squinty eyes. Their skin was the color of dark granite, not the effervescent purple of the Nox.

“Take them to the cells. Remove their weapons and lock them in,” Tovos commanded. “Take care with the Mavric iron blade. If I’m not mistaken, that’s Daelakos’s sword.”

The short men jumped into action. Three apiece pushed the floating, shadow-wrapped Khyven and Slayter through one of the archways and disappeared.

“Lorelle!” Khyven shouted. He growled. “I’m going to gut you, monster. I’m going to—”

His voice was cut off as the squat men turned the corner and slammed the door shut.

“You, on the other hand, may have a room,” Tovos said to Lorelle. “I have a special purpose for you. We must discuss your friend.” He walked through another of the archways and almost immediately up a flight of steps.

Lorelle’s body followed like a dog on a leash. She longed to look over her shoulder to where Khyven had gone, but she couldn’t.

Silently, Tovos led her up two flights of stairs, around to the left, and down a hallway. He finally stopped before a door that had an enormous handle, a lock, brackets set on either side, and a bar leaning against the wall. Tovos opened it. Inside was a bed, a rack for cloaks, a chest of drawers, and a mirror.

“This belonged to Zaith. He won’t be needing it any longer. I think living here will remind you of what happens if you fail me. Zaith had a rebellious heart. I hope you can avoid that. But if not, remember this, Lorelle: If you serve well, you will be rewarded. If you serve poorly…”

Her body entered the room, walked to the bed, and sat down stiffly.

“I must return to a project that was interrupted by Jai’ketakos’s appearance,” he said. He held forth his hand, and her body gave his dagger back to him. He wiped the blood across a corner of his noktum cloak and the darkness seemed to lick the blood from the blade. “I will return shortly, and then we will find your friend. Like you, I seek the one who stole her.”

He closed the door, leaving her alone. The moment the latch clicked shut, a tiny light swelled at the crack along the bottom, like someone had left a lantern right in front of the door. She heard the heavy bar that had been leaning against the wall sliding into the brackets. It gave a thoom of finality. She heard Tovos walk away and then nothing, as though he’d used his noktum cloak again and teleported.

The moment the footsteps stopped the Dark released her.

Lorelle screamed, and this time it pealed out of her, raking up her throat like fingernails. She charged the door and pounded her fists against it. She pounded and pounded until she fell to the floor. Her screams turned into a single, heart-wrenching wail, and then to quiet sobs.