There was still no sight or sound of the creature. Gill wasn’t fool enough to think that he had frightened it off. Most likely it had gone to get its friends, or worse, was watching him at that very moment from an unseen vantage point. The thought sent a shiver across Gill’s skin.
“We should push on,” he said. They were either going on or turning around, and he knew the latter wasn’t an option. He started to inch forward again, his body tense at the thought of the Venori flying out of the darkness at him.
CHAPTER 33
As he edged farther and farther into the mountain, the madness of what they were trying to achieve struck him. Even if they made it to the Cups, could they really expect to get back out again? It was true that he wasn’t constrained by the usual limits of what he could achieve with his sword, that Solène’s magic would be equally important, if not more so. But still.…
He heard Pharadon and Solène talking quietly behind him, and realised what his role there really was. Just as in the days of the Empire, the union of mage and banneret had happened once more. Gill—technically the most skilled swordsman of his generation—was there, Telastrian sword in hand, all to make sure Solène had the time she needed to shape the magic that would get them through this experience alive. No doubt that was the topic of the conversation behind him.
Gill had to admit he felt a little emasculated. He’d always been the one looked to when the impossible needed to be achieved. His renaissance over the past weeks had let him imagine that he could be that man once again, but now he realised that was unlikely. Magic was the future, one way or the other, and his kind would only ever serve as an adjunct to that, as had been the case in the distant past. He had struggled enough to find a place in the world he knew—how would he fare now? Still, he thought, I might not make it out of here alive. Always a silver lining.…
Solène’s light reached only so far down the craggy passageway; beyond that lurked the Venori. He wished they’d come out, so he could at least kill some of them. He always felt better after getting the first splash of blood on his blade. Confirming that he could kill one of these demons would go a long way to settling his nerves. Until he did, they would continue to seem invincible.
While his footsteps echoed sharply off the rough rock sides of the passageway, the whispering between Solène and Pharadon seemed very distant. Even though Solène continued to create magical lights every time he moved from the embrace of the previous one, it felt as though the darkness was closing in around him. He heard what sounded like a laugh ahead, a warm sound, full of kindness and joy. It was a laugh he had heard before. He squinted into the blackness beyond the magic light.
“Auroré?” he muttered. The joy of hearing something he valued above all else flooded through him, overwhelming the part of his mind that screamed this was impossible. Gill quickened his pace.
No sooner had he stepped beyond the range of Solène’s last light than he saw movement, a flash of a shape moving away from him. But something remained—its scent. He knew the smell. It was a perfume, made by a single parfumier in Mirabay. Gill had bought Auroré a bottle on her birthday each year. He breathed deeply, drawing the scent into his lungs. How long had it been since he had smelled it? There was no way she could be here. She was dead. But the sound? The smell?
“Gill? What are you doing here?”
The rational part of Gill’s brain told him that Solène had spoken, but everything else said it was Auroré. It was her voice. There was no mistaking it.
“Auroré?”
“I’m here, Gill. I’ve been waiting for you for so long. We’ve been waiting for you. Our son is here.”
My son? Gill’s heart raced. This couldn’t be happening, but there was so much he had seen with his own eyes over the past few weeks that couldn’t be happening. Yet it had happened. Magic. Dragons. Demons. Now Auroré? His son?
A light bloomed farther down the tunnel and he hurried toward it, only barely aware of Pharadon and Solène behind him. The light grew as he progressed, a warm, welcoming glow that spoke of an open fire with a pot of inviting broth hanging over it. And there she was. There was indeed a fire, with a cauldron hanging over it. Auroré sat beside the blaze on a small stool, cradling a newborn boy on her lap.
“Gill,” she said, looking up and smiling in that way that made Gill’s heart melt. “We’ve been waiting for you.”
“How? What?” Gill said. The boy should be older, he thought, but with magic, there could be many reasons for his appearance. Auroré, too, did not appear to have aged. Gill felt shamed. Time had not been kind to him, and although he had trimmed some of the bulk at his waist, his hair showed traces of grey, and the years he’d spent at the bottom of a bottle had lined his face. What would she think of him now? What would she think of the man he had become, so far removed from the one she had fallen in love with?
“I’m so glad you’re finally here,” she said. She placed the child in a crib beside her stool—a crib that Gill would have sworn was not there a moment earlier. More magic. She smiled a smile that would make a starving man forget about food, and opened her arms. “My love, I’d lost hope that you’d find us.”
Gill returned her smile, as his heart filled with a warmth it had not known in so long. Perhaps the gods were not punishing him for hubris after all? He lowered his sword, walked forward, and surrendered himself to her embrace.
“Gill! Get back,” Solène shouted. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing.
He had rushed ahead, forcing her and Pharadon to run to catch up. When they came upon him, he was standing in the middle of a small chamber. Solène cast a light just in time to see Gill, as though in a trance, lower his sword and walk forward as one of the Venori emerged from the shadows. Guillot walked straight into its arms. The creature lowered him to the ground and knelt over him.
“What’s he doing?” Solène said.
“The demon must have bewitched him,” Pharadon said. “The magic I spoke of. Now is the time to use it. Quickly.”
Solène felt a flash of panic, and wished that Pharadon retained his great abilities while in human form. Everyone was relying on her now. As they had when she’d helped first rescue, then cure, the king. She had never considered the responsibility that magic might bring with it. She had always thought of it as a terrible burden, and it still was—it was only the nature of that burden that had changed.
She furrowed her brow as she concentrated. She had sworn she would never again use magic to kill, but this seemed different. She silently mouthed the words that would focus her thoughts and saw a lance of blue energy shoot across the small chamber. It struck the Venori in the chest, blasting it against the far wall, and leaving a large hole in the creature where its approximation of a heart usually resided.
Gill lay senseless on the chamber’s floor. After checking to make sure the Venori was dead, Solène knelt beside Gill. His eyes were open, staring into the distance, and he seemed completely unaware she was there. There was an expression of deep contentment on his face.
“What did it do to him?” she said.
Pharadon knelt beside her. “This is what I spoke of. It enraptured him.”
“Will he recover?”
“Most likely, but this type of magic is anathema to me. I do not know how it works.”
Solène gently slapped Gill’s cheek. “Gill? Can you hear me?”
He mumbled and stirred, but his eyes and mind were still far away.