stretch. I frowned. The ground felt . . . different , here. When I mentioned it to Fyrsil, he said, “I feel it, too. Enchantment. From who, though, I don’t know.”
The sun rose out of the east, pale and distant. Its warmth didn’t seem to reach us, on this cold and stony wasteland. We rode for what felt like hours, even though it couldn’t have been more than one or two.
Suddenly before us, the ground seemed to drop away. The horses snorted and whinnied with alarm. Far below us, in a massive bowl of rock and earth, was a city. At least five times the size of Ruis, it stretched on, seemingly endless; towers, turrets, walls, and balustrades, all made out of the same black rock of the earth. Lights twinkled in windows, like countless spark flies. I realized my mouth was hanging open with amazement and shut it with a snap.
Aaric rode forward, shading his eyes against the cold sunlight. “Is that them?” He was looking down the slope.
It was. A party of five or so Twyli were riding toward the city, nearing the gates, far ahead of us. I squinted my eyes. One held a child in his arms.
“Dahliaaaaa!” Her name ripped from my throat in a scream. I booted Sorrel in the flanks, and the mare shot forward, galloping down the steep incline.
“Adaryn, no!” Aaric’s cry rang in my ear. I paid him no heed, urging my horse to faster speeds, careless of the danger I was putting both of us in.
One of the Twyli looked back and saw me, and two of them turned their horses to face me.
I called forth the magic. It resisted me. I was exhausted, having barely slept that night and traveling for hours before and after, but I ruthlessly snatched it up anyway, thundering toward the oncoming Twyli. Both raised their hands. The ground shuddered and rippled between us. Sorrel reared, hooves pawing the air as she squealed in fear.
The ground split with a shuddering roar, molten rock spewing upward in a fountain. Sorrel bucked and kicked and I was thrown, landing on the rocky ground. She bolted away, driven mad by her terror.
I stood watching, helpless, as the rift grew wider and wider, stretching out on either side of me, impossible to cross. I looked across it. The two Twyli were already riding back to meet the others, and together rode up to the opened gates. Once inside, the gates began to swing inward, and I watched as they closed with a dull thud. Dahlia was on the other side of them. I fell to the ground, my face in my hands. I had failed. Dahlia was lost.
16
Aaric
A aric jumped down from his horse and sprinted over to where Adaryn sat in a heap. He’d expected her to be crying, but though her face was pale and lips compressed, her eyes were dry.
“I failed,” she whispered. Aaric helped her stand as Fyrsil rode up beside them.
Adaryn looked at Aaric, her face showing stark panic. “She’s going to die. She’s going to die, she’s going to—”
“Shut up.” Fyrsil’s voice was cold. Adaryn closed her mouth, staring at him.
Aaric glared at Fyrsil. “Have you no heart?” he spat. “She just lost her child!”
Fyrsil continued speaking to Adaryn, ignoring Aaric. “Pull yourself together, woman. Drowning in self-pity won’t get her back. Action will.”
“Do you have a plan?” Adaryn looked up at the outcast king, a trace of hope in her gaze.
Fyrsil shrugged, smirking at her. “Not really, no. But are you just going to sit there? Accept defeat so easily? You were born with magic, Adaryn. You are every bit as resourceful and powerful as these Twyli.”
Adaryn’s face was a mix of emotions. “You’re right,” she said slowly. “I am just as powerful. To a point.” She looked at the sea of molten rock before her. Aaric’s mouth had dropped in amazement when he’d seen the Twyli call it forth. Lava was something he’d only read about. Under any other circumstances he would’ve dropped everything to go and study it.
Adaryn’s countenance fell. “I can’t control the elements, Fyrsil. I
The sun rose out of the east, pale and distant. Its warmth didn’t seem to reach us, on this cold and stony wasteland. We rode for what felt like hours, even though it couldn’t have been more than one or two.
Suddenly before us, the ground seemed to drop away. The horses snorted and whinnied with alarm. Far below us, in a massive bowl of rock and earth, was a city. At least five times the size of Ruis, it stretched on, seemingly endless; towers, turrets, walls, and balustrades, all made out of the same black rock of the earth. Lights twinkled in windows, like countless spark flies. I realized my mouth was hanging open with amazement and shut it with a snap.
Aaric rode forward, shading his eyes against the cold sunlight. “Is that them?” He was looking down the slope.
It was. A party of five or so Twyli were riding toward the city, nearing the gates, far ahead of us. I squinted my eyes. One held a child in his arms.
“Dahliaaaaa!” Her name ripped from my throat in a scream. I booted Sorrel in the flanks, and the mare shot forward, galloping down the steep incline.
“Adaryn, no!” Aaric’s cry rang in my ear. I paid him no heed, urging my horse to faster speeds, careless of the danger I was putting both of us in.
One of the Twyli looked back and saw me, and two of them turned their horses to face me.
I called forth the magic. It resisted me. I was exhausted, having barely slept that night and traveling for hours before and after, but I ruthlessly snatched it up anyway, thundering toward the oncoming Twyli. Both raised their hands. The ground shuddered and rippled between us. Sorrel reared, hooves pawing the air as she squealed in fear.
The ground split with a shuddering roar, molten rock spewing upward in a fountain. Sorrel bucked and kicked and I was thrown, landing on the rocky ground. She bolted away, driven mad by her terror.
I stood watching, helpless, as the rift grew wider and wider, stretching out on either side of me, impossible to cross. I looked across it. The two Twyli were already riding back to meet the others, and together rode up to the opened gates. Once inside, the gates began to swing inward, and I watched as they closed with a dull thud. Dahlia was on the other side of them. I fell to the ground, my face in my hands. I had failed. Dahlia was lost.
16
Aaric
A aric jumped down from his horse and sprinted over to where Adaryn sat in a heap. He’d expected her to be crying, but though her face was pale and lips compressed, her eyes were dry.
“I failed,” she whispered. Aaric helped her stand as Fyrsil rode up beside them.
Adaryn looked at Aaric, her face showing stark panic. “She’s going to die. She’s going to die, she’s going to—”
“Shut up.” Fyrsil’s voice was cold. Adaryn closed her mouth, staring at him.
Aaric glared at Fyrsil. “Have you no heart?” he spat. “She just lost her child!”
Fyrsil continued speaking to Adaryn, ignoring Aaric. “Pull yourself together, woman. Drowning in self-pity won’t get her back. Action will.”
“Do you have a plan?” Adaryn looked up at the outcast king, a trace of hope in her gaze.
Fyrsil shrugged, smirking at her. “Not really, no. But are you just going to sit there? Accept defeat so easily? You were born with magic, Adaryn. You are every bit as resourceful and powerful as these Twyli.”
Adaryn’s face was a mix of emotions. “You’re right,” she said slowly. “I am just as powerful. To a point.” She looked at the sea of molten rock before her. Aaric’s mouth had dropped in amazement when he’d seen the Twyli call it forth. Lava was something he’d only read about. Under any other circumstances he would’ve dropped everything to go and study it.
Adaryn’s countenance fell. “I can’t control the elements, Fyrsil. I
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