“You are more than your memories,” he tried, but it was no use.
“Perhaps before, but it’s even worse than you know. Now—now everything hurts. Cleansing malsites, killing rancor, using my power: it all hurts.”
His words were mere wisps. “What do you mean?”
“It used to feel good. Righteous. Restorative. It used to make me stronger. Now I suffer the reflection of every strike against evil, like the holy fire is trying to purify me, too.”
“Are you sure?”
“I would not lie about this.” She closed her eyes. “I must venture into the Malice. Tonight, before my memories fail me. Already, I’ve lost my making, countless awakenings, and…things I’m not even aware are missing. They’re gone. And should I need to face a rancor king—my own power may destroy me. Without the support of you and your men, I’m not certain this Incursion can be stopped. I’m not certain that I can win.”
He was touching her before he realized. It was brief, butterfly soft, but his fingertips traced her cheekbone down to her jaw. The caress was electric, just as powerful as he’d dared imagine. And when she listed toward his touch, a word balanced on the tip of his tongue—
—but the moment he opened his mouth to speak, it was gone. Like a language he used to know but had long forgotten. His hand dropped to his side, fingertips alive with the memory of her skin.
“I need your help,” she whispered. “It isn’t too late to save your world.”
But it would be soon. The Malstop had opened. He’d seen the chaos just one rancor could create. Two? Twenty? A hundred? That many could rip the world up from its roots, especially if a king commanded them. A king she could not kill. A king no one could kill, without the risk of becoming him.
Rune wanted to say yes. He wished he could. Surely he hadn’t imagined their connection. Every time she came to Caberwill, it was to see him. To ask him for help. If he could give her what she needed, shouldn’t he? Even if it cost everything else?
It would be so easy to say yes.
But…“You said you had something important to tell me.”
The emotion vanished from her face, replaced by the guarded expression she usually wore. “I’m no longer certain I want to tell you.”
“Because you think it will affect my decision?” he asked. “I haven’t changed my mind. I cannot field you the men. Not yet.”
The Nightrender stepped away from him, wings arched. “Two malice machines detonated yesterday: the first outside Small Mountain and the second in the Silver Sun mine.”
He curled his hand into a ball, like he could trap the texture of her skin. “I’ve heard the reports. Ivasland has so much to answer for.”
“On both machines, I noticed an energy—one I had not expected. I hoped I might have been mistaken, but the Ivaslander who carried the device into the Silver Sun mine confirmed her involvement. Princess Johanne herself helped break the Winterfast Accords.”
Rune sighed. “I know.”
“You know.”
“I do have spies in Embria.” Rune again felt the shock of that news, the chill that had run through him as Rupert Flight related the events in Silver Sun. “I’ve confronted Hanne about it. She confessed to everything.”
“Her actions endanger all of Salvation. The Incursion will be worse because of what she did. I thought you might care.”
“I do care, but you don’t know what happened to her. That rancor trapped her in the malsite. It forced her to go to Ivasland and help with the mal-device. She feared for her life.”
“You would have died before allowing a rancor to dictate your actions.”
“Even if that were true, not everyone would act that way. Learn something about mortals, Nightrender.”
She stepped back. “And when the Malice extends across all of Salvation?” Her wings lifted, dark feathers framing her pale face. The light-slashed moon on her armor gleamed as she stalked toward him. “I will say it again: There is only one way to end this Incursion. Send your armies with me through the Soul Gate. Accompany me as I banish the rancor king back to the Dark Shard. I’ve said I cannot do it on my own. Your selfishness—your pride—will be the end of everything.”
“This is not about my pride. My hand has been forced. Can’t you understand that?”
“Your fighting only feeds malice.” She was an eclipse, blacking out everything else as she leveled her inhuman glare on him. “Even justice and revenge are nothing against the magnitude of what rises within the Malice. Time is short, King Rune, and if you refuse to do what is right—what is necessary—you will be the king of ashes and ruins, of devastation and disappointment. You will be the king who could have stopped the rancor, but turned away when given the opportunity. You will be just like every other unworthy king before you.”
The words cut, but Rune had been trained to fight back. “It isn’t my duty to stop the rancor. It’s yours, and you’re the one who will fail because you can’t do it without me—without my army of mortals. What a burning champion you are. You can’t even remember how to be yourself.”
She went still. So, so still, like a statue perfectly carved. Exquisite in every way, except for the damage he’d caused.
He fumbled for an apology, but it was too late. “Nightrender, I shouldn’t have—”
“Goodbye, Rune.” Tendons on her neck cast black shadows as she looked up and west, and her wings rose high. “We will not meet again.”
Before he could figure out how to take back his foolish words, she was gone. In the air. Flying toward the spiral of stars. A faint wind stirred in her wake, the only thing remaining of her. And then the air, too, went still. He was alone.
38.
NIGHTRENDER
There was but one way through the Malstop: the Soul Gate. It was an ancient and immense entryway, built directly into the side of a mountain, bracketed by twin towers housing temples to the Known Numina and the Unknown (to mortals) Numina. The Soul Gate was one of the few truly neutral grounds on Salvation. No kingdoms ruled this place. No humans lived here.
Nightrender soared above the foothills, heading straight for the two pale and twisting towers, rising beyond the dawn-dappled clouds.
It was beautiful, if one didn’t know what waited beyond the white-blue glow of the Malstop.
Nightrender landed before the gate. It was massive, with multiple parts. First, an iron portcullis, then the great rim of the Malstop; beyond that, a tunnel carved its way straight through the mountain, with another portcullis at its other end.
The gates, the tunnel—they let out into the red wasteland of the Malice.