“I was worried we’d encounter this.” Ryana’s voice echoed through the gallery, mocking the four figures who stood at its center. “The Ice Door isn’t exactly signposted.”
Saul turned to Ryana. “Come on then—choose a passage.”
Ryana frowned at him. “We can’t just strike out blindly; we’ll never find the door that way.”
“Well, how do we select one then?”
Ryana handed him her torch, and shifted her staff to her left hand, freeing up her right. “I’ll send out scouts. One will tell us the way.”
Her companions looked on as Ryana gathered the Dark. There were plenty of shadows in this hollow space for her to call upon. They scuttled and scampered across the dusty floor, chattering as they came, clustering around her feet like adoring pets.
Ryana whispered words to them, her voice gentle and coaxing. All the while, her right hand moved over them, gathering the Dark close.
Lilia watched the shadows lift off the stone floor and head off in different directions, each cluster taking a different passage. Moments later, they had all disappeared on their errands.
Saul grunted. “Clever. Saves us hours of searching.”
“We don’t have hours,” Ryana pointed out dryly, before she lowered herself onto the ground. Stretching out her legs before her, she glanced up at her companions, who were all still standing, watching her. “Sit down—we can’t do anything now but wait.”
They waited.
Time drew out and the night waned, creeping toward dawn.
The four companions said little during their wait, although they grew increasingly tense, the longer the delay became.
Eventually, Ryana’s shadow scouts started to return, but the news wasn’t good. These ones had found nothing but endless empty passageways and dead-ends on their travels inside the mountain. No door of ice. No prison of endless winter.
Eventually, Lilia grew agitated. Not only that, but she had lost all feeling in her backside from sitting on cold, hard stone. Rising to her feet, she began to prowl the perimeter of the gallery, peering into each entrance in the hope one would yield a clue. “Why’s Valgarth trapped in here anyway?” she asked.
“After Dûn Maras fell, his host was pushed back into the mountains,” Dain replied. “Once the United Armies of Serran breached the caverns, he took refuge in the labyrinth of passages inside the mountain. It was at the dead end of one that he and a company of his most loyal followers made their final stand.”
Lilia halted and glanced across at where Ryana was listening to Dain’s explanation. “They used The King Breaker to trap him?”
Ryana nodded. “And in doing so, the enchanter wielding it was killed—and the talisman snapped in two.”
Lilia sighed, impatience making her snappish. “What time is it? Dawn must be approaching.”
“It’s not far off,” Ryana admitted. “I thought my shadows would have located the door by now. The tunnels inside the mountain go deeper than I thought.”
Lilia stopped pacing and turned to her companions. Ryana sat cross-legged on the stone floor, while Dain and Saul sprawled either side of her. “What are we going to do, if they don’t find it?” she murmured. “Gael and Brand will be here soon.”
“We could always hide in one of the tunnels, and follow them when they get here?” Dain suggested. He had propped himself up on an elbow and was regarding Lilia steadily.
“That’s risky,” Saul said. “They’re likely to hear us.”
“Or we could ambush them here?” Dain replied.
Ryana raked a hand through her messy blonde mane. “I’d rather not—it’s too open here—difficult to set wards.” She paused, her face tightening. “But, if my shadows fail, that’ll be our only option.”
Gael stood on the brow of the hill, and watched the battle unfolding below.
He’d never seen such a spectacle. The noise was incredible; a wall of sound that lifted off the vale and echoed high into the sky. For a time it had seemed as if the Rithmar force would win—for it was definitely the better organized of the two armies—but as the night drew on, and the Enchanters of the Light fell or exhausted themselves, the tide slowly turned.
One by one, those flares of light winked out. And each time one did, the shadow host grew stronger.
King Nathan was still there, fighting in the midst. Gael could see his banner, listing now under the onslaught.
Not much longer.
All these years he’d waited, and now—finally—the road was clear before him. There had been times over the past decade when he’d thought he’d never find the second half of The King Breaker. He’d hardly believed it, when Brand had sent word from the House of Light and Darkness that Ryana had returned … with the second half of the talisman.
Ryana.
Gael sometimes thought of her. He’d sacrificed much for this life, and regretted little. Yet the despair in her eyes that last time he’d seen her haunted him sometimes; visiting him at quiet times, usually just before drifting off to sleep or upon waking in the morning. He’d told her that he didn’t care, but it had been a lie.
It was easier that way—to sever all ties and let her take the blame for losing the stone.
There had been plenty of women after Ryana, but none had left a mark upon him like she had. Brand had told him Ryana was now locked in the Vault, under the House of Light of Darkness.
When Valgarth is free and we march there, I will find her, he promised himself.
Gael checked himself. The Shadow King still waited behind the Ice Door. He needed to focus on the task before him.
Ryana didn’t matter, the next few hours did.
Even through the heavy cap of cloud overhead, he could see that the eastern sky was lightening. At the bottom of the hill, he saw a figure, sandy hair gleaming in the light of the torch he carried, approaching.
Brand.
The young enchanter reached him, his round face pink, his eyes bright. “We are gaining the advantage,” he announced, out of breath from the climb. “Have you seen?”
Gael nodded, smiling. “I never had any doubt we would.”
The pair of them stepped out onto the track and began the climb up the mountain. The way was narrow, stony and potholed but the two men scaled the slope quickly. A forest of jagged, black rocks rose up either side of the path, towering overhead.
As they climbed, Gael stole glances at his companion. Brand had come a long way from the awkward lad Trond had brought back from Errad all those years ago. It had been a boon to discover the boy showed signs of the Dark, as Gael himself had at the same age. Raised by his gutter-whore mother in Errad until her death, Brand had been desperate to ingratiate himself with Trond. However, the only reason the soldier had anything to do with his bastard son was to further The Brotherhood’s cause.
“Has Trond spoken to you?” Gael asked finally, slightly out of breath as they began the steepest part of the climb. “Will he make you his captain as promised?” The question was cruel, for Gael knew that Trond had ignored his son since his arrival. The commander’s joy at having both pieces of The King Breaker in custody had been short-lived.
Brand’s face tensed. “He won’t speak of it.” The young man cast Gael a penetrating look then, showing the steel that lay just beneath the surface. “What about you, what are your plans once Valgarth is free?”
Gael smiled. “It goes without saying—I’ll serve him.”
“Really? It seems to me that you serve only one person, Gael—yourself.”
Gael laughed. He liked the enchanter’s sharp tongue; it made their conversations interesting. “I admit it freely. Putting your fate in someone else’s hands is a fool’s move.”
“So why serve The Shadow King?”
Gael met Brand’s eye, his expression turning serious. “Valgarth is the only enchanter in history who’s been able to wield both the Light and the Dark. I want to learn how he did it.”
Brand considered his words for a moment, before answering. “I must admit, I’m curious about that as well.”
Gael gave him an incredulous look. “Don’t pretend you’re not as ambitious as me.”
Brand shrugged. “I’m a man with aspirations, I admit it, but not like you.”
“Own your ambitions.” Gael gave him a sidelong glance. “It’s more constructive than trying to crawl before Trond.”
Brand stiffened. The atmosphere between them turned glacial then, but Gael didn’t care. He was enjoying the exchange, even if Brand now wasn’t. He liked seeing how far he could push people—although he had to admit that Brand had more self-control than most.
After a few moments, his companion spoke. “The Shadow King will be pleased to meet you,” he said, his tone neutral. “You’ll make a great general—just the man to lead his Shadow Army to victory in the south.”
Gael snorted. “If Trond doesn’t try to take that position for himself.”
“They’ve found it.”
Ryana sprang to her feet with such suddenness that her companions all started. Both Dain and Lilia were standing—too filled with nervous energy to sit still any longer—whereas Saul had been dozing on his side.
“This way.”
Ryana grabbed her staff and headed toward one of the many entrances to her right.
“Wait,” Saul grunted, struggling to get to his feet. Lilia glanced back and saw he was on his knees, his face was twisted in agony. She hurried back to him and reached out a hand. “Here—let me help you.”
Their gazes met and his mouth thinned. “Dain’s right—you are way too soft-hearted.”
“Shut up and take my hand.”
He did so, and she pulled him to his feet. A moment later, they were heading toward the entrance, with Dain close behind.
Ryana strode out ahead, torch aloft, as she led the way down a long, snaking tunnel. It seemed to go on for an age, until it ended suddenly, opening out into a wide cavern. Lilia followed the others inside, shivering at the wave of raw, dank cold that hit her. It was so cold in the cavern that their breaths steamed like wood smoke on a winter’s night. Walls of dark schist and granite surrounded them, and a cleft in the ceiling let in a draft.
However, it was none of this that captured their attention—but the huge gleaming door blocking their path. A vast river of ice, frozen forever. It glistened silver-blue in the glow of their torchlight.
Lilia’s breathing caught. It was magnificent.
Dain stepped up next to her and let out a low whistle. Likewise, Ryana and Saul gazed at the enchanted door, awe upon their faces. Staring at the door, Lilia could not begin to imagine the power that had created it, and kept it in place for so many centuries.