Twisted Enchantment (Unbreakable Force Book 5) (8 page)

22

Aaric

C
ome to me. Come to me, child.

Opening his eyes, Aaric sat up, rubbing his back, and blinked several times to adjust his vision to the darkness. He looked up from where he had fallen. Nothing but blackness overhead. The earth appeared to have swallowed him. He grimaced. Not the way he would have chosen to die.

He stood, stretching his arms overhead. Standing on his tiptoes, his fingertips brushed solid rock. Blast it all, he was buried!

He thought of the brigand. “Zero!” he hissed. “Zero, are you here?”

No answer.

Aaric ran a hand through his hair, exhaling heavily. This was a fine pickle to be in. Kneeling down in the darkness, he felt around on the rocky ground, hoping he might locate the knife he’d been holding when he fell. Nothing.

Muttering a curse, Aaric stood and put his hand out, his fingertips brushing a wall of rock. Shuffling his feet forward, he moved slowly, keeping one hand on the wall. He blinked several times, but there was no change in the blackness.

Aaric wondered if Adaryn would be successful in her quest. He hoped so. He’d become very fond of Dahlia.

He counted the seconds as he crept through the inky blackness. Seconds stretched into minutes, and minutes into an hour. He lost count. Putting his left arm out, he found nothing but air, so he kept moving parallel to the wall on his right. It was warm. Too warm. Aaric removed his jacket, throwing it over his shoulder.

Come to me.

Aaric started in surprise, but searching the darkness found nothing. Who’d spoken? “Hello?” he asked hesitantly. “Who’s there?”

I’ve been waiting for you, Aaric.

The inventor swallowed, the hairs rising on the back of his neck. A dim glow flickered to life ahead of him. Trying to fight down his growing unease, Aaric walked toward it, his hand still on the rock. The light gleamed fitfully, a pinpoint in the overwhelming darkness.

The closer he got, the greater the light grew. The air stayed warm. Looking around, he saw he was in an enormous tunnel made of the same pitted rock that the volcano was made of on the outside. He grimaced, thinking of the lava the Twyli were able to summon. He very much hoped he wouldn’t come across any. He peered at the light ahead with some apprehension and slowed his steps, suddenly suspicious. Could he be walking to his death?

Come.

Something cold touched his face and Aaric jerked back, startled. Tendrils of mist wafted through the air, curling about his arms and legs as if it had a life of its own. How it moved he didn’t want to contemplate. The air was still. The mist thickened, turning into a thick, dark fog, obscuring the rock floor and walls. Only the light was still visible, cutting through like a keen blade.

Clenching his jaw, Aaric trudged determinedly ahead. The light grew closer, growing larger and brighter. On reaching it, the fog parted, still swirling around the edge of his vision.

He stood before a large, circular stone arch. It was worn with age, its surface white, not a part of the volcanic rock. It was so large he could walk under it without hitting his head, but at its center was the glowing, pulsing orb of light he’d followed. It filled the expanse of the arch, obscuring the volcanic wall behind it.

Enter, Aaric.
The voice came from the fog, but when Aaric turned to look, nothing was there.
Enter the arch.
The voice pressed against his mind.

“Why?” Aaric asked. He removed his cap to mop his face.
Just the heat getting to me,
he thought.

The fog billowed around him, balancing the heat of the tunnel with cold.
To save Twyarinoth and Omniah
, the voice spoke again.
To prove yourself. To prove you are worthy.

“Ah.” Aaric laughed, trying to mask his fear. “I don’t feel the need to ‘prove’ myself, thank you.”

The voice was silent for a moment before speaking again, but when it did, the words chilled Aaric to his core.

Then Adaryn will die.

23

Adaryn

T
he yellow-eyed prince leapt at me, his face contorted with a snarl, bringing his sword down in a vicious blow. I reflexively brought my hand up, scrambling for the magic, unable to grab it in my haste.

I felt a surge of enchantment from Fyrsil and the hall crumbled, destroying the chamber’s opening, sealing the three Twyli inside.

“Come on,” Fyrsil panted, his face tired. “Our chance of leaving this city lessens with every moment.”

We ran back the way we’d come, Dahlia slung over Fyrsil’s shoulder like a sack of grain. Where the brigand was drawing his strength from, I had no idea. I felt ready to weep from weariness.

We staggered out onto the landing where we’d descended with the gliders. How we’d managed to escape the notice of guards, I didn’t know.

I cast a despairing look at Dahlia. Between magic and sprinting down the halls, I was beyond exhausted; I couldn’t imagine how tired Fyrsil must be. How were we going to carry Dahlia to safety on the gliders?

Fyrsil noticed my expression and looked down at the small child he was holding. “Pass me your shawl.” His jaw was set in a firm line. “I’ll have her hold onto me, but secure her so she doesn’t fall when she tires.”

“You’re too tired,” I protested, tugging free the long shawl I’d tied around my shoulders.

He glared at me, snatching the fabric from my hands. “And you’re not?” In a few moments he'd secured Dahlia so her stomach was flat against his chest. She gripped his shirt, her little knuckles white.

“Let’s go,” Fyrsil said hoarsely. He gripped the glider and called the enchantment, working it so the wind roared to life, tossing us into the air. The sky was dark with falling snow, the temperature well below freezing. My teeth chattered and my hands gripping the wooden shaft of the glider felt frozen. We floated over the city, the lights below reminding me again of spark flies.

I started at the sudden pain in my abdomen, surprised to realize I’d nearly drifted off. I gripped the glider more determinedly. Another cramping pain caused me to grit my teeth, but I tried to dismiss it with an uneasy shrug. I’d have to take things a little easier in the future.

Finally, after what felt like ages, Fyrsil began to descend. I followed, my gaze glued to him. I hoped the shawl would hold. If he lost Dahlia, I’d kill him myself.

I staggered in the freshly fallen snow as we landed. The brigand king fell to his knees. Slogging through the snow to him, I untied the shawl with stiff fingers, pulling Dahlia to me.

Fyrsil lay on his side, his body curled in a fetal position, knees drawn to his chest. His face was gray. “Keep watch,” he gasped, and then he was asleep, exhaustion overwhelming him.

Still holding the child, I looked around, taking in my surroundings. We were less than fifty feet from the edge of the forest. Fyrsil had taken us further back than where we’d started. I glowered at his slumbering figure. If the Twyli started a search, they might possibly come across Aaric first.

Dahlia stirred, and I made a shushing sound, smoothing her pale blonde hair. “It’s all right, sweetie. You’re safe now.” I looked at the forest again. Too far to drag Fyrsil, but with the snow coming down, and the air getting colder, we risked freezing to death.

I wanted nothing more than to lie down and sleep, but I forced myself to trudge through the drifts to the edge of the forest where I found some fallen branches. Holding Dahlia meant I couldn’t carry much and I had to make multiple trips back to the forest, but I wasn’t willing to let her out of my sight.

It was with trembling hands that I lit the small pile of firewood next to Fyrsil, my limbs shaking with fatigue. I clamped down on my urge to vomit. When was the last time I ate? I couldn’t remember. I huddled by the fire, Dahlia asleep in my arms, and tried to stay awake. The heat of the fire was a balm to my half-frozen body. My mind drifted, and I sat a little straighter, straining my ears for any sounds. Aside from the soft, hissing sigh of snowflakes in the dancing flames, there was none. We were alone.

24

Adaryn

A
aric stood before me, a sad smile on his face. I reached out to touch him, and he disappeared in a swirl of ash and smoke. “Aaric!” I called. “Come back!”

"He is not here, but he is safe." Something loomed out of the shadows. Something big. It towered over me, vague and terrifying in the darkness, sad, golden eyes peering at me through the gloom. I scrambled backward, trying to keep a distance from it.

"You must warn the others."

I opened my mouth to ask why—

“Thanks for nothing.”

I woke with a gasp, scrambling to my feet, snow flying everywhere. I spun in a circle, afraid the Twyli had found me and Dahlia.

Fyrsil was seated cross-legged next to the dead fire, his face a mask of disapproval. “You fell asleep when you were supposed to keep watch.”

“Sorry.” I scrubbed a hand through my hair in relief when my gaze fell on Dahlia. She’d been lying next to me and was sitting up now, shaking her head groggily. There was snow in her hair. I looked up at the sky. It was still cloudy, but the snow had almost let up completely.

Fyrsil rubbed his eyes blearily and yawned. “No harm done.” He stood and brushed snow off himself. He grimaced at the tree line several yards away. “We almost made it.” He grimaced at the dead fire before nodding approvingly. “Thank you for the fire. We could have frozen to death otherwise.”

“You’re welcome.” I knelt down and gently brushed the snow off Dahlia. The toddler’s nose was red with cold, but with the shawl wrapped around her she’d fared all right.

Still kneeling, I looked anxiously in the direction of the Twyli city. “We need to head back. Aaric will be worried.”

“Right.” Standing, Fyrsil extended a hand to me. I took it, letting him pull me up. I felt a stabbing pain in my abdomen and stifled a cry.

Fyrsil eyed me. “Did the prince harm you when we were escaping?”

I shook my head. “It’s just a stomachache. I’ll be fine.”

I turned to pick up Dahlia, but Fyrsil stopped me, lifting the child and settling her on his shoulders. She grabbed fistfuls of his hair to keep her balance. “I’ll carry her.”

I didn’t argue. I felt a wave of apprehension wash over me as I thought of my unborn child. In my quest to secure Dahlia’s safety I never stopped to consider the fact that I might be overtaxing my body. I hoped my baby would be all right.

We set off, both cloaked in our own thoughts until Fyrsil broke the silence.

“I was thinking about what the Twyli said.” I glanced over at him, and Fyrsil’s face was troubled. “They knew my father. I. . .” His voice trailed off but his expression hardened and he continued. “You’re going to think I’m being pretentious, but I think I’m—”

“—Twyli royalty,” I finished. “You definitely looked related to the prince’s father,” I conceded. My lip curled in distaste. "Looks like running kingdoms poorly is in the blood.”

"Very funny." Fyrsil rolled his eyes, then furrowed his brow, his expression turning contemplative. "The old man for a moment thought I was his brother, and that Twyli we captured back at my camp called me 'master,' remember? He must have mistaken me for his king. The innkeeper saw the resemblance too. And the prince obviously thought me a threat to his country.” Fyrsil hesitated a moment before adding, “He said he was going to conquer the other lands too. That doesn’t . . . sound good.”

“No, it doesn’t,” I agreed. The comment Hydari made had bothered me too. I would have to ask Aaric about it.

The snow was deep and unbroken, and it was several hours before we found ourselves back at our campsite. It was empty.

“Where is Aaric?” I tried to stomp on my rising sense of panic. “Where is he?”

“Don’t worry,” Fyrsil’s tone was soothing, but his eyes were concerned as he scanned the camp and surrounding area. “He had Zero with him. I’m sure they’re fine.” He chewed his lip. “It’s a pity it snowed. We would’ve been able to track them easily, otherwise.”

“Where could they have gone?” I turned in a slow circle. “There’s nowhere for them to go.”

“With our luck, they were probably captured.” Fyrsil ran his fingers distractedly through his hair, leaving it a wild dark tangle. “Too bad neither of them are magic users or I could track them that way."

I rocked Dahlia in my arms, an icy pit of fear settling in my stomach. “What do we do?”

Fyrsil shrugged helplessly. “Nothing. It’s getting dark. We’ll stay here tonight and figure things out tomorrow morning.”

I nodded. “Good idea. They should be back by then and can explain why they left.”

The brigand king watched me, his face expressionless as rock. “And if they don’t?”

“Aaric will come back,” I said firmly. He had to.

25

Aaric

“
E
xplain yourself!” Aaric shouted into the fog. “If you harm Adaryn, I’ll . . .” He trailed off. What could he do? Nothing. He was useless. He’d always been useless. A disappointment to his father, a burden to his mother.

Adaryn needs you,
the voice spoke again. It weighed on his mind. Trying to peer through the fog, trying to locate the voice, Aaric realized it was
in
his mind.
She will die if you’re not strong enough, Denali. Enter the arch and end it.

“End what?” Aaric wiped his sweaty hands on his trousers.

End the perversion of Dark magic. Protect the children. Create a future for Omniah and Twyarinoth.

“Why me?” Aaric tilted his head as he considered the words. “That sounds like a tall order. I don’t think I’m the right man for the job.” He thought of Bran, the strong, confident nomad who didn’t need help from anyone or anything. He had the sky jewel now, and with it, he was practically invincible. He’d saved Aaric’s life on numerous occasions. Aaric only seemed to get in the way. He’d never saved anyone.

You saved Adaryn once.
The voice pressed inside his mind.
When her spirit was about to shatter, you saved her.

Aaric’s head was filled with images of Adaryn’s torture, Kingsley abusing her. Aaric hadn’t been there when it happened, but the images in his mind were being shown like they were his own. He saw himself come into the room where Kingsley was beating Adaryn, saw himself knock Kingsley out and free her. He watched how he’d freed the slaves. He saw, clearly, Ember leaping forward, wrapping her magic around him when the explosions went off.

You freed them, little Denali.
The voice sounded satisfied.
Even without the aid of magic, you were able to overcome this insurmountable task. I need your help now.

“To . . . end the Dark magic.” Aaric eyed the arch doubtfully. Was the voice coming from there?

Yes. Stop the corruption of the Twyli. Corruption is happening on both sides of the Dragon’s Tail, Aaric. We gave the ability to use magic to a select few many, many years ago. The Royal Twyli were to rule the Denali with justice and with mercy. But the Twyli king on the west side of the mountains grew jealous of the riches he saw being brought into Harbor from lands afar, and conspired to enslave them. He had the Denali build the Tower, and mined lithyum to power the collars. In the end, he was collared himself, bringing an end to his reign and the beginning of the Twyli nomads.

Aaric nodded eagerly, his ears perking up at this new information. There wasn’t a trace of this history anywhere, not in any book he had read, for sure. He wished he had a pen and paper.

The Twyli on this side of the Dragon’s Tail, however, have kept their power, but they are wiping out the race of Denali. I cannot allow this!

The voice roared. Aaric staggered, putting his hands to his ears. He smiled wryly; the sound was in his head, not around him. Could he smell smoke?

“Tell me what you need me to do and I will try my best,” Aaric answered truthfully.

Enter the arch, and you will know what needs to be done.

“Hmm.” Aaric rubbed his chin, frowning at the great white arch of stone. “What if I don’t?”

Do you see an alternative to your predicament?
The voice sounded amused.

“No, not really.” Aaric frowned, a thought coming to him. “You brought me down here, didn’t you?”

Yes.

“Can you at least tell me who you are?”

Enter the arch.

Closing his eyes, Aaric took a deep breath. “Will I see my wife again?”

That is entirely up to you.

Aaric opened his eyes. Clenching his fists, he stepped forward. He’d made his choice.

The light surrounded him.