Umbra, p.26
Umbra, page 26
“An impressive form of divisive magic discovered by Enodia’s new High Mage, I’ll grant you. But my magic merely requires pain, blood, and iron.” Mara answered, now only a few feet from Jess.
Jess’s mouth grew dry as the queen unsheathed her scian.
Shadows began to grow and stretch, slinking into those skulking shapes, fanning out in a circle around both the queen and Jess. The encircling sluagh were a manifestation of the death magic that Mara spoke of. A warning of what Mara wanted to do to Jess. A sickening vision of the puppet Mara would turn her into.
Jess steeled her muscles as she drew her own blades. She knew neither her scian nor her iron-claws could defeat the queen, but she was damn well going to go down fighting. And she’d free as many of the queen’s iron-tinged as she could.
Yet, before Jess could lunge, another figure was released from the folds of the iron-tinged. It pitched out between Jess and Mara. It would have looked like one of the sluagh had it not been for its hanging matted hair, now so much more luscious in color—the darkest of blues in its hues like the night sky. Jess caught a flash of ebony skin, just like the hebena trees, beneath the hair as the figure skulked closer.
Then, the figure looked up. The Sidhe’s dark eyes held Jess with torment. For the first time, Jess understood her reflection completely. In the Sidhe’s eyes, she read the loneliness and despair she’d been subjected to. And Jess ached at the thought of how afraid she’d been of the rage blackouts in childhood; that she’d seen them like a monster waiting in the wings to sabotage her life. But it had only ever been part of her. Her shadow self—alone, fading, and desperately searching for release. Tears misted Jess’s eyes as she felt the Sidhe’s ache to move on, so that she could leave behind the suffering that was all she’d experienced for centuries.
And, for the first time, despite the iron-tinged outlines encircling them, despite Queen Mara in all of her iron-clad terror, Jess’s way to the Sidhe and the Sidhe’s way to Jess was utterly unobstructed. So, despite knowing that she shouldn’t, that Mara wanted Jess and her shadow self joined, Jess watched with nothing but tear-inducing relief as the Sidhe came closer, her hands grasping her own… and melted into her.
Jess felt the Sidhe, suffused with Umbra’s shades, sinking into her. They interlaced with every part of her. Happiness buoyed Jess up because she could feel a blissful peace spreading through her that was the Sidhe’s. Her shadow self, now merged with her, was about to move on.
But Mara, utterly attuned with the moment Jess’s whole self was restored, too, sent her iron-tinged around her, numbing her. It wasn’t the cold, blinding haziness that they’d pushed her into before so that she lost consciousness. But their shadows seemed to affect an icy weight that settled in her very soul. It lanced through both her and the Sidhe, locking them in place.
Jess blinked to find her body similarly seized up. She couldn’t move. And the queen was immediately before her, her statuesque figure, equal in height to Jess’s. She leaned into her, swallowing the last remainder of space. Her eyes met her own. “How I’ve longed for this moment: a goddess’s sluagh that will be forever mine.”
As the scian carved through Jess’s flesh, the agony in the cry that flew through the cave belonged to her whole self; both the grief from hundreds of years of imprisonment in the Between mingled with the raw pain of the moment. Slicing through muscle and nerves as if ripping away the ribbons of a gift box, Mara splattered Jess’s blood upon the rock, again and again.
27
THE ONES BELOW
Rune was certain he was drowning. His lungs were on fire, every nerve ending in his body seemed to burn, and he felt sure, at any moment, the last remnant of life within him must expire.
Then… he shivered. Tiny pinpricks scattered over his head and along his arms. Icy moisture melted and dampened his shirt. The sheer warmth pouring off his body made him feel as if he were burning the snow he lay upon. Night swathed the land, only the whiteness of the ground shining around him.
Blood pulsed through his body. Slow and steady. He staggered to his feet. He wasn’t dying…he was coming to life. He was breathing. His body shook with great, gasping lungful after lungful as the air was necessary. He felt it: the rhythm of his heart, his breaths, his pulse, pounding through his body.
He tried to grasp the fleeting memory of this sense from the past, from when his body had been human, but it was too distant. So remote that it seemed to dissolve into the chill north wind. Rune stood, frozen in place, nothing but the awareness of the walls of his body, its heat enshrining him, inhabiting him.
Only now that his body hummed with such life did he feel what acute numbness he’d existed in for centuries. He would have had to gorge himself on gallons of blood to feel this biting cold that had sunk into his bones and the crisp mountain air stirring in his chest. Now, it was as if he were gorging himself on the air itself. The physicality of his surroundings was visceral. Rune basked at the sight of the mountain’s magnificent whiteness, its rises pushing into the night air, and the wind pounding it like iron fists.
As the wind tore up flecks of powder, he felt the moisture not just on his skin, but in his being, too. A churning whirlwind of connection spun through him and he knew he could spend a lifetime trying to disentangle this sense of himself from his surroundings.
Shadows started to slither over the pearly inclines around him. Memory broke upon him and he remembered these slopes filled with mirages. Filled with self-recriminations as he’d battled the guilt and shame that had encrusted his insides like ice.
As he watched the dancing shadows, softening and thickening on the now peaceful slopes, he remembered the din of war cries accusing him. He swallowed. The fragile screams of those babies and the gruesome mirror image of himself clouded his mind. Coldness roiled through his soul as he felt all the wrong he’d done and all the fresh emotion threatening to surge up if he allowed it.
Rune quelled the thought, clenching his jaw as he reminded himself that all that had happened over these millennia had been the wrong that the Fomors had inflicted on himself—Alba—and on Umbra. It was only now that he had the power to try to right all those wrongs.
I’m alive. I’m whole.
The knowledge of that beat through him as surely as his pulse. It was time for him to seek retribution from those who had wronged Umbra and its people. His people. A smile edged his lips as he remembered that the Storm-born who’d carried him here had run off in the melee of that visionary battle here.
No matter.
This time as his gaze skimmed the shadows of the mountains, he called them up, summoning all the power of the Shadowlands. Instinctively, he knew that he could blend with these shades. They would take him where he wanted to go. A glimmer of excitement ran through him as he thought of returning to the Cornua whole and triumphant. Thoughts of Jess, of seeing her wonder at his restored self whipped through him. As his musings wound to the others, he wondered about Sunny. He wondered if his blood brother would have returned to life, too, or if he’d atrophied. A fondness for all they’d been through together wound through him. He knew if he burrowed deeper down into his being, he’d be able to seek out where he and Sunny met and all the other Alban heirs whose bodies he’d inhabited over the millennia of his existence. Like currents within the sea, Rune knew his depths bore a myriad of streams that he could lose himself in if he chose to swim down into them. Instead, he merely dared to hope that it would be as their blood brother, Cuill, had theorized. That Sunny still lived. That soon, he’d be able to talk to one of his brethren who could fathom to some degree what depth of memory, emotion, and power roiled within Rune now. Ruminating on the repercussions of his restoration, Rune wondered about the vamps on Earth, too. There would be time enough for these considerations, though
He must get back to Jess and they would confront Mara together. They would free Jess’s shadow self, too. He felt the shades of Umbra, of his land beginning to blanket him like the wings he’d once possessed. When he’d been Alba centuries ago. When he’d last ridden the winds here as he was about to.
Something jolted Rune… Something juddered through his being. He staggered. His startled gaze flew around as if he might find the cause of it. But fury caked his insides as he recognized the sense of that power. Earthen.
Jess’s power.
But it wasn’t the slight pulse of her shifting. This was monumental. It rammed through the Shadowlands as if the plates of the land were vibrating, their discordant shudder echoing through Rune.
Jess is merging with her shadow self, which means… Mara has her.
The beat of Silva’s power seemed to agitate the shadows, to cause a wave of dissonance through the land that was part of him. But Rune quashed the sense, reminding himself it was Jess’s magic. It was Silva. And…she needed him.
The shadows coated Rune and he tore over the cold slopes. His icy rage a kindred one to that sheeting the rise and falls of the land. As Rune melted into the Shadowlands, he felt Jess’s earthen energy growing, swathing the landscape as it continued to beat with strength and potency.
Urgency thumped through Rune. He needed to get to her now. He needed to travel faster. Something answered him from above, tearing up the shadows that he was. He felt himself dissolving into the streams of the northern wind. The Heights took him into their embrace and Rune howled down the mountain, feeling as if the battle cries he’d heard earlier were woven into the currents he rode upon; woven into the currents that he now was.
Shock rebounded through him as he onboarded that he, Alba, god of the Depths, was now streaming through the winds, the Heights… but the quake of that earthen power continued to flood through the Shadowlands. Pushing aside shock and thought, he speared towards the Unseelie capital, Lares. It wasn’t through himself that he felt Jess, but through the grinding and grating of the Umbran land. Rune felt Umbra’s distress palpitate through his entire being. But his need to get to Jess drowned out all else.
His being rippled with disturbance once more. It felt as if the fabric of Umbra was being ripped apart.
Panic whipped through Rune.
What’s Mara doing to Jess?
Tearing across the plains, feeling the thronging shadows of the trees and the grasses as if they shrieked for whatever was happening, Rune lashed over the walls of the iron-keep, careering through the battlements and jagged cliffs of Lares, plummeting down into the depths of caverns until he reached a sprawling cave, with a lake in its center. Where the earthen power was encircled and pierced by the presence of the iron-tinged. And where Queen Mara sliced open Jess’s arms. Blood streamed down Jess’s tattered arms, bone gleamed through and still Mara hacked away at her.
In a furor of wind and shadow, Rune barreled into Mara. She hurtled through the air and crashed upon the banks of the lake.
Rune sensed the foul wall of iron-tinged around Jess, too, holding her in place. His power swelled, rumbling and lacerating them. The sluagh disintegrated like ash, utterly obliterated.
Solidifying into his human form, Rune caught Jess as her legs buckled from under her. She was breathing but unconscious. Alarm rang through Rune as he sensed a weak Umbran energy in Jess…growing weaker by the second.
Fear quivered through him. What did it mean? He held her to him but his attention charged towards the lake, to the one who had dared to harm Jess.
Queen Mara stood upon the bank. Her burnished eyes shone with fury but she retreated, stepping down into the waters of the lake, her gaze pinned on Rune. More of her iron-tinged sluagh swathed the air around her. The pulse of their broken magic seemed to merge with the atmosphere of the festering waters. And Rune knew Mara had sheathed herself in the enemy’s magic for centuries.
The pulse that felt like a laceration through his entire being told him that the portal Mara was entering was the one by which the Fomors had invaded. He knew she was fleeing to the people who had wronged his world, his race, and he and Silva all those centuries ago.
Rune longed to rush at Mara again, to pour all his power and fury into obliterating the queen once and for all, but the pulse of that Umbran energy in Jess flickered weakly.
He swore, “Umbra will have its vengeance, Mara.” His black stare burned with the pain of division and personal wrongs he’d committed because of Mara. He locked eyes with the queen before she disappeared beneath the surface.
Rune laid Jess down on the mossy bank, hating the nearness of the polluted waters, but needing somewhere soft for her. She was coming round. A moan of pain escaped her. He wished that he could instill some of the waters here with his healing properties so that he might repair her physical injuries, but these waters wouldn’t work. They were tainted with the Fomors’ magic.
Besides, it wasn’t Jess’s physical wounds that had his heart hammering in panic, but the internal one.
What had Mara done to her?
Confusion and terror lashed at Rune. How could he feel so powerless? He, now a god. Once more, Rune sensed the Umbran energy within Jess flickering like a candle… in danger of sputtering out.
28
FADING
A strong, crisp scent, so fresh like clear mountain air brought Jess back into the land of the living. Heart-drumming relief flooded her as she drank Rune in from where she lay. But it was short-lived: pain lanced through her. She swallowed a sob.
“Jess?” Rune demanded. “What is it?”
He seemed as aware as she was that it wasn’t her still bleeding and ruined arms causing her suffering. Yet the kernel of power she sensed petering out within her left her incapable of speech.
The Sidhe… Her shadow self… She’s moving on…
Jess felt her shadow self blink out. And with her, the last tie Jess had to Umbra melted away.
Rune stared down at her. “What just happened?”
“My shadow self…” Jess’s voice was hoarse. “She’s… dead.”
Shock rippled across Rune’s face.
“That’s what Mara wanted. She had worked out that my shadow self hadn’t just changed and become Earthen—like we thought—but that she was dying. She’d been stuck in the Between… For centuries.” Jess’s voice quavered. “That’s why she keened for those who were about to die… She wanted to follow them.” Loss rang through her. Her shadow self had followed them now. “It’s why I heard her in the human Netherworld. It’s why the blackouts I had as a child were full of rage—she was injured… dying…”
Jess felt as if she had a hole in her chest, as if her bones were empty. The heartfelt expression Rune watched her with only swelled her grief. Quelling it, Jess explained, “Mara wanted to tether me—me and my shadow self at the point of death.”
“She wanted the sluagh of a god,” Rune said. He clenched his jaw, his black stare swinging to the eerily shining lake. “She went through the portal to the Fomors.”
Jess’s attention stirred to the waters, but the slight movement caused pain to shoot through her arms. She stifled a cry but Rune noticed.
“When I close the portal the waters will be purified,” he said, “they’ll heal you. Wait here.” He drew a piece of glowing ignes out from his pocket, leaving it by her.
Jess’s lips twitched despite everything. Her arms were too wrecked to move.
I’m not going anywhere.
But soberness returned fully as she watched Rune step off the bank and walk willingly into the rancid waters. Wide-eyed Jess stared, knowing he must feel disgusted by the waters as much as she did. No…more so. He was connected to Umbra in a way she wasn’t. The knowledge that she hadn’t had a chance to grasp yet rippled through her; she watched Rune’s figure shift like smoke as shadows flocked over him until he disappeared.
Jess blinked, her head feeling fuzzy.
He’s become the water.
The pearly light emanating from the lake gradually faded. Jess’s heart thumped.
Is he okay?
The waters became utterly dark. Only the green glow from the rock beside Jess kept her from freaking out.
Jess’s heart pounded in relief as Rune surfaced from the lake.
“Well, that was unpleasant,” he commented as if he were merely surfacing from a cold swim.
“It’s closed?” Jess asked with awe.
“Yes.” In a moment, he’d picked her up and she was biting back her cry as pain fired through her arms and stole her breath. Despite the care with which Rune carried her, she felt as if she was going to pass out again. Until the water started to lap at her. Jess was able to breathe more deeply and she realized the caress of the water was carrying away her pain… Slowly her muscles relaxed and she lay back in the water. Bringing her arm up, she gazed in wonder at the mottling of fresh scars.
The water had healed her wounds. Her gaze brushed Rune as she thought of how this vitality, now in the waters of Umbra, had been retained in his blood, even when he’d been a remnant of Alba.
“You became the water,” Jess whispered in wonder. He’d transformed to close the portal and infused the water with healing powers to heal her wounds.
“I feel their Depths, Jess,” he answered. “It’s like all of their currents—the lakes, rivers, and seas are roaring through me. But it’s the minutiae, too, I can feel the tiniest spec of moisture swirling in the Heights.”
His black eyes took on a liveliness that she’d never seen in them before. It was both captivating and strange, as if he were a different person. She felt a flutter of uncertainty as she stared at him. In a way, he kind of was a different person. In a way, they both were.
His words brought to mind the great winding tributaries that they’d traveled past up the Silvan Mountains, decorated with those braided Alba dolls. As well as the glimpses of the vast aquamarine seas that they’d looked out upon.
She remembered the beauty of the converging rivers feeding different hamlets on the mountain. The same that watered Skiron’s lands, rich and fertile with fruits and grasses, all given by Alba. All that power that Jess had sensed resting in his depths had been brought to the surface now.
