Elyon (25 page)

Oh, Elyon, how she had failed . . .

“And now, Derias, queen of Teeleh, listen to these words I say,” Marak cried. “You . . . are under . . . my command! For what is done cannot be undone, that which is bent cannot be made straight. And after today the world will change.”

It was true, Marak still had the amulet.

The general fell quiet a moment. He looked up, and his eyes met Sucrow’s. “Kill the Dark Priest and his Throaters.”

The air went still, perfectly silent.

Then Marak was moving. He grabbed Darsal in his arms, flung the amulet into the current, and dove straight off the sharp bank, plunging both of them into the depths of the river. The red water swallowed them both.

thirty- seven

T
he water was so frigid it knocked the breath out of Marak.

The Leedhan in him searched frantically for the medallion, propelling him downward, hand outstretched. He lost hold of Darsal in Shaeda’s haste.

But not even she could bring it back. The amulet was gone, forever lost to the river. He’d lost everything.

Darsal swept past him and caught his wrist. She dove for the bottom, pulling him with her.

“No!”
Shaeda screamed, tearing at his mind.
“No, no, no!”

Darsal could not have had time to take a breath of air as he had. But she was pulling him deeper.

He shuddered, swam deeper. This was madness, all of it. Deeper, deeper he swam, unnerved by the sudden quiet.

“Perish, then! But know this: you can never return to the land of the purebloods . . .”

Shaeda let go. She vanished.

Darsal gave a tug, drawing him into the deeper, warmer water. Marak pulled back, lurching for the surface, desperate to breathe. He was trying to help her, not drown!

She was . . . breathing the water. Her chest rose and fell rhythmically. Demonstrating, she took a lusty gulp and swallowed. Her face showed no trace of longing, uncertainty, or desperation.

“Hello, Marak,”
whispered a soft voice. His eyes flew open. Who was that?

The seconds ticked by. Darsal treaded water, trying to stay with him, begging with her eyes. Her face grew uneven, rippling. Dark. The brown eyes widened. Darsal tugged at him.

His mind reeled.
Elyon?

Darsal squeezed his hand. Marak felt his world going dark. Knew he was about to drown one way or another.

He steeled himself and sucked in a huge, greedy breath of water. His ribs and lungs and throat screeched in jagged, raw pain. Still, Marak continued.

All fell still and quiet. Blackness . . .

And Marak of Southern drowned.

But no sooner had the darkness swallowed him whole than a light blossomed in his mind, and he gasped with new life. His heart began to beat.

And his body shook with a new pleasure.

Life. Pure, living, breathing life.

“Swim with me,”
the voice whispered
.

JOHNIS WATCHED IT ALL HAPPEN IN STUNNED SILENCE: First Marak’s trembling opposition to Shaeda deep inside his mind, which Johnis knew all too well. Then Marak’s order to Derias while the guardian queen was still under his control. Then Marak and Darsal diving into the river. The cold splash drove everything silent. Johnis couldn’t breathe. For half a second no one moved.

A shadow fell across him. Johnis looked up. Derias whooshed over his head and landed to his left, so close Johnis could have reached out and touched his half-furled wing. A low chuckle rumbled from deep inside the Shataiki queen’s chest. A chill swept through him.

Sucrow had his eyes firmly planted on the river, but he now turned and saw what they all saw. He went white with fear.

Derias licked his thin, pink lips. The priest stepped backward and caught his heel, but maintained his balance. He was ready to flee. But before he could even turn, Derias snarled. Then he was on Sucrow, ripping into his throat and tearing the priest limb from limb. Blood covered the Shataiki and pooled on the ground. Derias ripped Sucrow’s back with his claws. Bones and cartilage snapped like twigs.

And it wasn’t only Derias who had this thirst for blood. The Shataiki swarm suddenly descended on the Throaters, invigorated by their release.

“Silvie!” Johnis grabbed Silvie’s hand and scrambled for the river.

Together they dove over the side of the steep bank into the cold, red water.

thirty- eight

D
arsal and Marak swam through the river, relishing the water as it rushed through their battered bodies. Marak’s skin had become smooth and dark, healed by the power of Elyon’s water. At last they reached the far bank and pulled themselves, dripping, from the water. For a moment neither was able to speak.

Everything had changed. The darkness was gone. It wasn’t hell, it wasn’t hell at all. Beyond the bank, trees filled a magical-looking forest, surrounded by color.

Then Darsal broke the silence, spitting up water. “You see?” Cough, chuckle. “What did I tell you? The Great Romance, as they say.”

Marak stared at the forest like a boy struck by the wonder of a magic trick. He slowly faced her and his eyes softened, and he stepped closer. “I do see. I certainly do see,” he said and kissed her gently on her lips. “The Great Romance.”

The battle sounds raged behind them, but Darsal did not care. She understood more clearly now, her own love for Marak really was symbolic of the Great Romance. Of Elyon’s love for them all.

Freed of any lingering restraint, she threw her arms around him, and suddenly they were falling into the shallows with a mighty splash. Laughing, they clambered to their feet and ran from the water onto the bank. Marak’s black skin was clean and smooth, gleaming in the strange light that reflected off the water still clinging to him. Purplish-blue sand covered them.

The screams from the far side grew, and they turned to face the battle. Together they watched, breathless as the Shataiki queen tore the Dark Priest Sucrow to shreds and devoured him, licking his blood.

Johnis and Silvie . . . no sign. Did the Shataiki get them?

Cassak cut loose a shout across the river. “Run!”

An angry, dark cloud of Shataiki attacked the Horde who thundered back toward the relative safety of the valleys behind. Derias, covered in blood, roared.

Johnis and Silvie suddenly broke the surface of the water not ten feet from Darsal and Marak and splashed up onto the bank. “Thank Elyon . . .”

The battle across the river moved into the hills and vanished from sight. But the fate of most could not be in doubt. The distant shrieks slowly faded.

The four stood dripping, looking at each other like dumbfounded but quite happy children.

“Now what?” Silvie finally asked, glancing across the river. “We can’t go back, can we?”

Marak gazed at the bloody carnage across the river. “Not now. Even if we could, not now.”

“You will never return,” a husky voice said from behind. As one they spun. Shaeda stood, watching them, her purple and blue eyes narrowed. She wore heavy mist as a robe. Blood dripped from Derias’s claw mark. She was lucky not to have lost her whole head.

Darsal stood frozen, unable to break away from that siren’s gaze. At first she wondered why the Leedhan didn’t just tear into them and kill them. But then she knew why. The creature faced Elyon’s power in them now. She couldn’t climb into any of their minds unwelcomed, not as long as they had Elyon’s water in them.

“For now, my pets, you prevail,” Shaeda said. “For now.” Then she turned, glided into the trees, and was gone.

CROSSING THE RIVER HAD OPENED THEIR EYES. FOR THE first time Darsal, Marak, Johnis, and Silvie took a long look at their new home. From the opposite shore everything had looked lifeless and evil.

But now a bright blue sun warmed them. The rich smell of citrus flooded Darsal’s nostrils. No longer muddled with Horde scent, she could smell pine and ash, luna flowers and fruit. And other scents she couldn’t name.

She stared at the wood into which Shaeda had disappeared. Rich blue grass and blue-black wood covered the hillside. Strange purple, pear-shaped fruits so translucent they almost glowed, dangled from a tree with broad, pale blue leaves. A thousand new smells and sights caught their senses. An insect made a whirring sound like a cicada, but not quite. Hundreds of small bugs flickered wisps of light. Green fireflies? No, they were shaped more like pixies, no bigger than Darsal’s palm from head to toe. Nothing less than amazing in every way.

“Now what?” Silvie asked again.

Darsal turned back to the group and settled her gaze on Johnis. “So . . . let me get this straight. Shaeda takes advantage of your weakened state to control you. She gets you to retrieve the amulet. But she knew you would die and lose power over the amulet. She’d planned to enter Marak all along, as soon as you died.”

“She couldn’t have known for certain I would drown.”

Darsal fell quiet. “She saw me try to drown Marak. She knew I wouldn’t stop.”

Her general squeezed her shoulder. They fell quiet a minute. From deep within the wood came a high voice singing, a siren’s song of sorts.

“The world of the half-breeds,” Johnis mused.

“Badaii,” Silvie said, glancing at Johnis. He didn’t respond.

“Badaii?”

“The fruit,” Silvie explained.

Darsal scanned the edge of the blue forest. A cool wind tickled her skin.

“It’s what Shaeda gave us,” Johnis said finally.

Darsal searched their faces. “So what was her real purpose?”

“Shaeda wanted to take over Teeleh’s half of the world,” Johnis told her. “She’s the eldest of all Leedhan—it’s been eighteen years since Shataiki first mated with Horde to create the race of half-breeds. Teeleh kicked them out because they were half-human and he was jealous. Now she’s back to exact her revenge.”

“She needed a human to help her do it.” Silvie’s expression darkened a minute.

“She failed,” Marak said stiffly.

“So be it,” Johnis said. A strange look came over him, as if he were considering something new and grave. “So how did you two . . . ?”

Marak stiffened, but shook his head and threaded his fingers through Darsal’s. She traced Jordan’s pendant at Marak’s throat. “I was captured and thrown into the dungeon, where I met Marak’s brother, Jordan, an albino. He helped me escape and told me I had to drown, explained it all to me. When I came back for him, he was already gone. And Marak came in. Elyon told me to love the Horde. ‘Return to the Horde and love them, Darsal. For me. For Johnis.’ So I did. I asked Marak to make me his slave. Later he released me.” Darsal glanced up at Marak.

“So Jordan was . . .”

“Jordan is with Elyon,” Darsal said softly. Marak looked away.

“Oh.”

For a moment there was nothing more to say on the matter. Johnis withdrew his single book of history and studied it. “We lost the other six,” he said, stroking the soggy leather. “I kept it so that all seven couldn’t be used to unlock the rules of history. With any luck, the other six will remain hidden until we can figure out how to get them back, but at least we have the one.”

“Good.” Darsal thought a minute. “Gabil said the books weren’t meant for us. We were only meant to find them.”

They all eyed her.

Darsal composed her thoughts carefully, trying to grasp the meaning that nibbled at her mind. “I just mean Elyon has different paths for all of us.”

Johnis continued to study the book. “I’d really like to have seen Thomas again. He’s safe, for now anyway. That’s what counts.” Pause. “You’re right. We each have our own battles. Elyon didn’t lead us to this side of the river by accident.”

Johnis tucked the book back into his waistband. He faced the forest, eyes brightening with adventure. The old Johnis was back. “So . . .”

They stared at the magical blue forest with him. “So,” Silvie replied.

“You ready to go?”

“What about Shaeda? The other Leedhan?”

A bird sang out from the trees. Music played deep within the forest, a sweet, light melody. Darsal glanced up. The forest really was gorgeous, a whole world of unexplored, untouched, and untamed territory ripe for the taking.

“We’re protected by Elyon,” Marak said, stepping forward. “I’ve never felt so full of power in my life.” He stopped and faced them. “What’s a few Leedhan now?”

Johnis grinned. “So, the end of one adventure . . .”

“And the beginning of a new one,” Darsal said, winking at Marak. He returned it.

“The Lost Books are still lost, but we are now found,” Johnis said. “I think that was the whole point, don’t you?”

“To be found by Elyon,” Silvie said.

As if on cue, the distant sound of a child’s laughter whispered through the trees. Or was it just a bird?

“So then . . .” Johnis looked at each of them. “Now that Elyon’s found us, let’s see what he has in mind.”

“Yes. Let’s see,” Silvie said. She put her hand in Johnis’s. Darsal took Marak’s, and together all four walked into the blue forest.