now Daine strode forward with his blade drawn and his dragonmark pulsing in the dim light. Thorn circled around the other side. Vorlintar was beating his wings, and the lashing chains made it difficult to close in. Still, she just had to wait for an opening.
“You are alone in this place, fallen one,” Daine said. “You cannot stand against us all. End your struggles and accept your fate.”
“Oh, I always have hope,” the angel said. “Just as long as I have innocents.”
The children rose to their feet.
It was just as Thorn had feared-a mob driven by the same feral fury as those they’d fought in the tunnel. They weren’t armed, but the sheer numbers would be deadly.
“Xu’sasar!” Daine snapped.
Whether it was the order or the change in focus, the dark elf broke free of the trance. She didn’t hesitate. She leaped across the room, an impossible bound that sent her flying through the air and right into the midst of the savage youths. Her weapon shifted into a long bone staff, and she lashed out as she landed and knocked a child to the ground.
Thorn wanted to help the dark elf, but she knew the angel was the greater threat. She flung Steel at Vorlintar’s back, and the angel hissed as the blade struck home. Then she saw something that made her heart sink. The wound she’d made in the angel’s neck had vanished, as if he’d never been injured.
This revelation brought new waves of despair. Even Daine seemed to feel it. He had reached the angel and his blade was held high, yet he did not strike. Thorn could only assume that he was struggling with his own doubts. She tried to think, to come up with a solution, but all that she could think about were the people she had failed. Lharen. Mayne. Her mother.
Then a new hope appeared. Brom slowly rose to his feet, unsteady yet strong. Thorn smiled And then Brom swung his huge fist at Daine.
No! Xu’sasar couldn’t last long on her own. Daine was struggling with Brom. Drego’s silver flame was growing dim, slowly being consumed by Vorlintar’s shadows. And Thorn couldn’t hurt the angel with Steel.
So she’d have to find another way.
Dropping Steel, Thorn charged Vorlintar. His wings buffeted her, but inhuman strength flowed through her. She slammed into the angel and wrapped her arms around his chest.
Now, she thought. She tried to remember the sensation of killing the Sentinel Marshal, of draining the life from the man in the tunnel. But nothing happened. Whatever the nature of the power, it wouldn’t answer her call. And now strength was fading. The angel was thrashing, his chains flailing against her skin, and she couldn’t hold on for long.
No. She could. Thorn had never been one for grandiose dreams. All she wanted was to serve her country, to know that her father would be proud of her. And that was enough. She was fighting for Breland and the memory of the best man she’d ever known, and she had no intention of failing either one. There was always a way. There was always hope.
The angel screamed again.
Hope. That was her weapon. Vorlintar consumed hope, and he could not claim hers. He struggled, howling, but Thorn locked her hands together and refused to let go. He would fall. They would find a way. She was sure of it.
The shadows the angel had summoned vanished, and Drego’s flames washed over him. For a moment Thorn thought she would be burned, but she felt only the slightest tingle against her skin. Not so Vorlintar. The angel’s thrashing grew weaker. The weight of his chains pulled him to the ground.
Daine moved forward and placed his hand against the angel’s forehead. His dragonmark burst into light, and the lines of it flowed off of his skin and wrapped around the head of the Keeper of Hopes. The angel’s cries suddenly silenced, and he stiffened in Thorn’s arms. As she held him, his body began to fade beneath her hands, as if he were turning into mist. There was a jangling sound as one of his chains fell to the floor. Another followed, and another, and then there was a crash as dozens fell at once. Thorn’s arms closed on empty air. Daine held a ball of writhing shadows in his hand, bound in the brilliant lines of his mark. He took a deep breath and closed his palm, crushing the sphere. He gasped as inky blackness spread from his hand along his mark, flowing up his arm.
“Thorn, get back!” Drego cried. “Stay away from him!”
Daine’s face was a mask of pain. The shadows spread to his face, moving across his eye. He dropped to one knee, his fist still clenched, every muscle bulging.
Thorn snatched Steel off of the floor. “What can we do?”
“Just stay back!” Drego yelled.
He’s right, Steel whispered. I don’t know what this is, but there’s immense power at work. You need to stay clear of it.
It seemed that the shadow-touched mark was fighting to pull free of Daine’s body. Inky tendrils rose from his skin, lashing at the air. It was a terrifying sight, and yet Thorn couldn’t just stand by and watch. She was sure that she could help. You’ll know when the time comes, he’d told her. And she did. Sheathing Steel, Thorn walked to Daine’s side and set her hands on his shoulders. Immediately, she felt a surge of warmth in the shard in her neck. Only this time, it wasn’t pain.
“You can do this,” she said. The words came to her without thought. “Remember who you are. Remember what you’ve done. What’s one more to one such as you?”
Daine stiffened at her touch. Then, as she spoke, crimson light burned at the shadows along his skin. The ruddy glow reclaimed the lines of the dragonmark, and the mark itself pulled back against his flesh. He gasped, falling forward and catching himself with one hand.
“You have my thanks, my lady.” His voice was ragged. “I knew I could count on you.”
Thorn didn’t even know what she’d done or where the words had come from. Yet it had felt terribly familiar, as if she’d done it before.
“Of course,” she said.
“Xu,” Daine said, rising to his feet.
The chaos had passed. Thorn saw that Brom was sprawled out on the floor behind him. Daine was still unsteady on his feet, but he pushed passed Thorn toward the mass of savage children.
The battle was over. The children were sprawled across the room. A few bore signs of injury, but others seemed completely unharmed. As Thorn followed Daine, she saw that all of the fallen were smiling, their faces frozen in expressions of joy and peace.
Not so Xu’sasar. The dark elf had held her own, but the children had possessed the manic strength of the marauders at the tunnel, and she’d fought dozens of them. She was covered with bruises, and there was something wrong with her left leg-a sprain, if not a broken bone. Blood was flowing from her mouth, and Thorn wondered if there was internal bleeding.
Daine took her in his arms. She looked at him, and her pale eyes were glazed. “It reflects poorly on the soul… when one is killed… by children,” she whispered.
“You’re not dying here,” he told her. “Drego!”
“I cannot let you… stand alone,” she said. “The spirits told me… danger still to come.”
“I will not be alone,” he said. “And you have done your duty to the spirits.”
“Brom’s dead,” Drego said, coming up behind them. “A mercy after what that thing did to him.”
Daine looked up at him then back at Xu’sasar. “Help her.”
Drego looked down at the injured woman. “There’s little I can do-”
“Do it.”
The Thrane knelt beside Xu’sasar, studying her wounds. Even weak as she was, she refused to cry out in pain. But it was plain to see that she was in agony. It was then that Thorn remembered what she had in her cloak. Finding the proper pocket, she produced the second vial of dreamlily that she’d taken from the Tarkanan stores.
Xu’sasar resisted when Drego tried to give her the medicine. “Weakens the mind,” she murmured.
“Drink,” Daine said. “I need you alive.”
On his order, she swallowed the potion. Her breathing slowed, and she relaxed.
Drego studied her for a few more moments. “She’ll live,” he said. “I need to splint the leg, and she needs to rest. But as long as she avoids any strenuous activity, she’ll survive.”
