Beseeched a new father to the Mistress of Eagles, Bless my baby, for her mother died in childbirth.
Eagle replied, Your loss is like a volcano’s flow which increases the land. New worlds are born out of destruction.
—COLLECTED FOLKTALES
Jack gripped the edge of the seat as the airship descended from the clouds. What he saw on the ground below was mystifying. Judging by the presence of Lagrimari troops, the Mantle had already been destroyed. But where he’d expected a battle to be raging, there was relative calm.
The Lagrimari sat in even rows on the ground with Jack’s troops maintaining the perimeter. Had they surrendered? Could that be possible?
No enemy guns had been drawn, there were no environmental disasters as in the Seventh Breach. What was going on?
Clove set the ship down at the edge of the gathered crowd. “That was some bloody fine piloting, Clove,” he said, clapping the woman on the back.
“Thank you, Your Grace!”
Flying through the vicious storm had been just as difficult as he’d imagined. They’d been bandied about by the wind and rain, and nearly struck by lightning twice. But Clove was unflappable, gripping the steering wheel with bloodless hands and navigating them safely through.
With a nod to Vanesse, who had insisted on coming as well, Jack opened the carriage door and tore across the ground, intent on finding Jasminda.
Several soldiers approached him. The base’s high general, Verados, was in the lead. “Your Grace, the enemy has surrendered.”
Jack looked on, incredulous. “How is this possible?”
“They laid down their weapons as soon as this witchcraft began.” He tapped his foot and looked down. Jack peered at the strange, hardened ground.
“It’s like the caves, Your Grace.”
He turned toward the familiar voice to find Rozyl standing at the edge of the group of soldiers. He motioned her forward, and the men let her pass.
“No one can sing on it?” he asked.
She shook her head solemnly. “No one but Jasminda.”
He opened his mouth to ask about her, but Verados cut him off. “The True Father has been captured. Once he was rendered powerless, his troops dropped their weapons. It was just a matter of bringing him into custody.”
Jack’s eyes widened. “Where is he?”
Verados motioned toward the base.
The king could wait. “Where is she?” he asked Rozyl. Her expression was grim. “Take me to her.”
Rozyl turned on her heel and marched over to a group of refugees. They sat in a spiral around a prone figure in the middle. Jack’s heart stuttered when he recognized Jasminda. He tore through the group to kneel at her side. “They can’t heal her?”
“Osar is linking with her. She’s controlling his Song but won’t heal herself.” Rozyl’s voice was bitter. “She says she needs to save the power.”
He turned back to Jasminda, his stomach clenching at her condition. All of her limbs were twisted at strange angles, and her eyes were barely open.
“Jasminda, my darling, I’m here. I’m going to get you off this blasted thing so they can heal you up, all right?”
She lay impossibly still, her eyelids the only movement. Osar sat by her head, stroking her hair. The boy looked up at him pleadingly, then looked to Rozyl.
“He says she wants you to stay with her.”
Jack glanced at Osar, who’d never spoken a word. “Of course I will.”
“She knows how to awaken the Queen. But there isn’t much time.”
Jack’s pulse sped. “What do we have to do?”
“Take her hand.”
Her hand lay palm up, and though her fingers were mangled, the caldera was held loosely in her grasp. He stared at the rock, the way it lay in her ravaged hand.
“Please.” Rozyl’s voice was a whisper.
Jack’s heart broke. Jasminda was so weak. If this was what she wanted, he would do it. He whispered a kiss across her lips, not daring to press against her and cause more pain, then closed his hand over the caldera.
Searing pain shot through his body, as if he were being pulled apart one organ at a time. He might have screamed out loud, he wasn’t sure, but the burning agony was like nothing he’d ever felt. His blood was on fire, burning bright and hot. Then it was gone.
Breath returned to his lungs. He was once again kneeling on the glossy surface of the unnatural ground, next to the woman he loved as she slipped further and further away.
An explosion of light above his head blinded him. He squinted against the small fireball, which rivaled the sun in sheer brilliance. It grew brighter, shining with a white-hot glare before disappearing.
In its place, a figure floated, wrapped in ivory fabric. Her skin shone gloriously. Dark, curling hair swirled around Her head, blown by a nonexistent breeze. She moved like liquid, spinning and stretching. She righted Herself and hovered before Jack, dark eyes piercing him with intensity.
He swallowed and lowered his head in deference.
The Queen had awoken.