small measures, then more, and more, as the pall exerted by Lady Pravda and those poor children evaporated with their life essence. A crackle of lightning let him know Stormbreaker was feeling relief as well, though the price of that relief was far too terrible to consider.
Dari and Kate turned their assault on the rogue energy of Lady Mab’s graal. Likely no one would ever know which twin actually killed Eyrie’s queen, if any human walked away from this battle to debate the issue.
Nic…
It was Aron’s turn to sob, for he saw no flare of Mab’s ruby-red energy, save for the weak issue of Mab’s many soldiers, who seemed to be scattering in disarray.
Aron cried for Nic, for Dari, and for Kate, and for the children he had never even known. The twins had no understanding of what they were doing, or of the arrows tearing into their wings and flesh. When they fell—and they would, if they didn’t flee—Aron didn’t think he could survive the pain.
“Take what I have left,” Stormbreaker begged, thrusting his graal energy toward Aron, intending to give his life to allow Aron enough power to do something to help Dari, or maybe Lord Cobb, who had roused his forces to battle back a surging host of mockers and rock cats and wolves. Humanlike monstrosities spit poison, striking holes in armor and Sabor fur—and Lord Ross had locked swords with Lord Brailing, their Guard scattering to get out of the way of the fierce battle.
Aron hated himself for taking Stormbreaker’s energy, but he let the essence of lightning, thunder, and rain flow into his mind, his muscles, his essence. He fought his way to his feet, dragging Stormbreaker with him. They clung to each other as those tiny children might have done in their last moments.
“Let me fall, Aron,” Stormbreaker said, trying to pull free of him, but Aron wouldn’t turn him loose. “If you don’t let me fall, you can’t save her.”
Aron couldn’t do it. He couldn’t kill Stormbreaker even to save Dari. Tears flowed down his face and through his essence—until Stormbreaker was ripped from his grasp. Aron stumbled but managed to draw his short sword as Stormbreaker crashed to the ground near the moat.
A tall man dressed in dark robes towered over Stormbreaker’s fallen form. He had an old military sword raised in one hand, and in the other, he hoisted a great curved blade to hack Stormbreaker’s head from his shoulders. The man’s fingers were red and scarred, but Aron could see nothing of his face, because the man had wrapped himself like a Barrens sand-farmer.
“Bandit!” Aron cried, striking the man with a burst of his graal energy, and spending most of it in that instant. His hand dropped to the belt at his waist, the one holding the pebble with the runes naming his first Judged. “Canus the Bandit. If you touch him, you’ll die where you stand.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT
NIC
The world made sense to Nic, but only in moments and pieces.
Visions flooded his consciousness as the spark of his graal tried to reignite, failed, then sparked again.
Had he suffered a fit?
But no, he was not in Snakekiller’s wagon, or in his bed in the Stone infirmary. He was in a field on a hillside, lying next to his mother.
A moment later, Nic remembered more.
When he rolled over and touched his mother’s burned face, he knew she was dead, but he didn’t know if he was sorry.
The feral cries in the skies above him punched at his mind, but he couldn’t focus on them, couldn’t hold on to their meaning.
Mab soldiers ran past him, and he realized their ranks were breaking and falling into chaos.
They would be no help in this battle. Thanks to his mother’s madness, the soldiers couldn’t name their enemies, much less destroy them. There was something he had to do, but his graal seemed so sluggish he couldn’t call out to Aron or Dari for help, or even put his task into words. His mind-talent reached out for anyone and anything that might help him, making contact with more beasts than people, but maybe that was all right. Maybe a beast was what he needed.
Minutes later, or maybe longer, a blast of snot covered his face, and Tek bumped him with her big, square nose.
Nic reached up and grabbed her thick neck, willing himself to his feet, and somehow forcing his twisted body onto her back. His muscles burned, and his bones popped and cracked with each movement. More