The Master of Spiders searched for his treasure throughout the land. He found it not in the mountain, nor in the valley, nor by the sea. After many years, he could no longer recall what he was looking for.
—COLLECTED FOLKTALES
The row of Lagrimari soldiers parted to reveal a solitary figure. Jasminda could only stare as dread cooled her skin.
Weak sunlight glittered off a jewel-encrusted mask covering the face of a man walking across the field. No holes for eyes, nose, or mouth were visible—just a covering of multicolored precious stones obscuring his entire head. A heavy tunic lined with even more jewels flowed nearly to his ankles. He walked across the ground as if laying claim to the land. As if he had already conquered everything he surveyed.
His approach was endless, his paces measured. The thousands gathered were silent; not even a bird call interrupted the quiet.
With a flick of his wrist, two dozen refugees before him went flying through the air and crashed in a heap on the ground. The Elsiran army appeared frozen in place. Jasminda was unable to tear her gaze from the force of nature that was the immortal king, but vaguely registered some barrier separating where she stood from the Elsirans around her.
Noise reached her ears slowly, as if muted. A jeweled glove jerked, and another swath of refugees went flying. A sickening crunch of bones accompanied them, and low moans rose.
Jasminda’s lip quivered. Now, none stood between the True Father and her. Though she could not see his eyes, she felt his attention on her. He knew she carried the caldera.
He tilted his head to the side, regarding her. “What is this?” His voice was nothing like that of his younger self. Hollow and raspy, it was the sound of death.
Jasminda flinched.
“Yllis truly was innovative. He trapped his entire Song in the stone you carry, girl.” The True Father laughed, a sandpapery sound that rippled down her spine. “So much power. A Song unmatched by any alive today. Give it to me and you may live.”
Hot tears escaped Jasminda’s eyes. Her body shook. A tunnel had been formed out of ice or wind or pure magic, perhaps all three, Jasminda couldn’t be sure. On the other side of it the Elsirans raged, blurry and ineffectual. Their weapons fired into the swirling tunnel walls but did not penetrate.
She and the refugees, along with a handful of Lagrimari soldiers, were trapped in this cage with a madman. So this was his power, tainted and bitter.
“No.” Her voice was soft amidst the immense twisting power surrounding them.
The True Father inclined his head. That was the only warning she had before she was ripped from the ground and tossed into the air. The earth came back to meet her; this time the crunch she heard was from her own bones. Pain was delayed for one blissful moment, then her entire body ignited.
The king’s power lifted her again, only to smash her down just as cruelly. White-hot agony lanced her. Deafening screams rang in her ears. It took a moment to realize they were her own. Then, in a flash, she was healed and standing upright.
She wobbled on noodly legs, searching for support and finding none. The other refugees lay on the ground around her, many broken and bloodied, watching with wide eyes. Jasminda took a deep breath—not nearly enough to sustain her.
The True Father laughed again. “Who are you to defy me, girl? A child with barely enough power for me to take. An insignificant whelp, yet you dare utter the word ‘no’?”
He turned in a circle as if to ensure everyone was watching. “Though perhaps I should thank you.” He tilted his head to the side. “Your attempt to shore up the Mantle’s cornerstone with your negligible power amused me. And there is so little left that I find entertaining.”
Guilt shrank Jasminda’s chest.
He drew closer. “You thought to use the stone you bear against me? Or do you wish to lash out with your feeble Song and do something to stop me?” He laughed—the brittle sound turned her blood to ice. “Now give me the stone, and you may die quickly.”
Jasminda trembled. She could not stop him from taking the caldera, but she would rather die, as slowly as it took, than give it to him. “I know who you are, Eero,” she said, fighting the quiver in her jaw.
The True Father froze. Once again, unseen eyes raked over her skin. “I have not heard that name in a long time.”
This time, he dragged her into the air slowly. He stepped closer until he was directly beneath her, his head tilted up. “I think I would prefer to never hear it again.”
Her skin constricted, squeezing tight against her muscles. The air surrounding her compressed, bearing down until her bones cracked, one by one. Her throat was crushed before she could scream. The pain went on and on. She lived inside it until she was certain she had passed out. But the impact of the ground on her shattered body rattled her. He’d dropped her.
Jasminda’s skin was a bag of bone shards. She could not move. Drawing breath was nearly impossible. A whistling sound escaped her lips when she tried to fill her lungs. They must have been pierced with slivers of her ribs.
“Get the stone,” the True Father’s deathlike voice rasped. Apparently, he would not deign to get his bejeweled gloves dirty. She was vaguely aware of hands pawing her, and not gently. The pain on top of pain made little difference. She could not draw enough breath to cry out.
As the seeker mauled her, something brushed against her outstretched hand. Earthsong buzzed at the edges of her senses. Was this someone trying to heal her?
Somehow, she managed to agonizingly lift her eyelids, but closed them again immediately. She’d fallen next to Gerda’s lifeless body. Jasminda forced herself to look upon the old woman. Gerda stared back sightlessly, her neck twisted at an impossible angle. Jasminda’s vision blurred.
The Earthsong prickling at her was insistent. A link wanted to form. She could barely think but opened her Song to it—perhaps it would aid in the healing, though she knew in her heart it was too late. Even a strong Singer would need far more time than Jasminda had left in this world.
Whoever was searching her pockets stopped suddenly. The warm presence of the stone left her. They’d found it. Now it was too late for everyone.
Gerda’s blood pooled, inching towards Jasminda’s face. Soon it would mix with her own. Had the old woman’s sacrifice been in vain?
A memory tickled her mind. The spell Yllis had taught Oola in the last vision. A blood sacrifice.
The link opened between herself and whoever the persistent Earthsinger was—Osar, she recognized the feel of his Song belatedly. Some part of her skin must be in contact with him, though numbness had begun to erase her pain. He offered her control of the link and his powerful Song.
Jasminda startled at the feel of every heartbeat of every person nearby inside her body. She breathed with the breath of thousands. Insects burrowed deep under the ground came into crisp focus. Every blink of every eye was loud as a camera’s shutter. She sensed the True Father’s spell, the tunnel of wind and water separating the Elsirans from the Lagrimari. She could see how it was made, perhaps even copy it. She filed the knowledge away.
Instead, she centered her attention on the ground beneath her and reached for the memory of Yllis’s spell. With her enhanced power, she could almost taste Gerda’s blood mixed with the dirt and sand. Jasminda twisted the energy of Earthsong, mixing it with the woman’s lifeblood.
Power swelled within her as she wove the threads of the differing energies together. The spell came to her as if channeled from another mind—in a way it had been. The complex fabric of intermingling energies was nothing she could explain, but she sang the spell as if possessed.
When she was done, her eyes blinked open again. Gerda’s face was now peaceful before her. Underneath them, the ground had become glassy and smooth. Dark as midnight, it extended all around, like fast-spreading molasses. Though she couldn’t see more than a few paces in front of her face, she could feel it. The earth beneath them had been transformed into the polished rock surface of the caldera. Just as in the caves.
The True Father’s strange tunnel barrier died.
Osar’s small face dropped between hers and Gerda’s. The little boy watched her grimly.
The smooth surface beneath them echoed with the residue of magic that required death. There was something unnatural about it that made a shiver go up her ravaged spine.
The True Father roared. The sound was filled with anger, frustration, shock. Chaos erupted, and his scream cut off in a strangled cry. Emotions beat against her, but Jasminda’s vision was narrow. She blocked it all out.
The ground is like the caves now? Osar asked in her mind. They were still linked, his mighty power under her control.
Yes, no one can sing. Jasminda wanted to laugh, but her entire body was numb. No one but me. She couldn’t even feel her lips.
The caldera? she asked.
Osar’s face disappeared, and the chaos surrounding her intensified. She sensed him motioning to Rozyl, communicating with gestures. Via the link, Jasminda watched through Osar’s eyes as Rozyl rose from the ground and broke into a run. She leapt into the air to tackle a figure with his back to her. Tensyn.
Rozyl brought him down effortlessly and wrenched the stone from his grip. She walked back over to Jasminda and kneeled before her, placing it in her hand.
Though Jasminda could not feel the weight of the caldera, she didn’t need to. The vision came anyway.