Karigan strode from her hiding place on shaky legs. “I am here,” she said, dropping the cloak of invisibility as she went. The colors of the normal world collided into place in her vision, and the startled expressions of those who watched sharpened as though a veil had been lifted from their faces. She felt exposed as if she had suddenly shed all her clothes.
She halted before Amilton-Shawdell. The Eletian was now gone from her sight except in the light blue coloring of Amilton’s eyes. She did not permit herself even a brief glance at her father trapped in his agony, for she would snap if she looked, lose her self-control, and reveal her weakness to the tyrant who stood before her. Then all would be lost.
She licked her lips and tried to put on her best merchant’s face, a mask that gave nothing away. “Release my father,” she said.
Amilton-Shawdell lifted a brow.
“I came out like you wanted,” Karigan said. “You let him go.”
“I rather like this,” he said. “You trying not to show your pain. Why should I let him go?”
Karigan trembled with anger. “He has done nothing to you.”
“But you have.”
“Then punish me!”
Amilton-Shawdell smiled. “Such spirit,” he said. “We shall reward you with what you request—your father’s relief from pain, and your own punishment.” With a flick of his hand the magical currents dissolved.
Karigan hastened to her father’s side to support him just as his legs gave out. Sevano took the other side.
“Father?” she said.
His eyes shot around the throne room, unfocused. He swayed on his feet. “What?”
She shook him gently. “Father, it’s me, Karigan.”
He looked down at her, at first without recognition. Slowly his eyes focused. “Kari?”
She embraced him soundly, and all she had held pent up since leaving Selium threatened to gush out then and there; the hurts and struggles, the loneliness. Yet she knew this was not the time to give in to her emotions. She pressed into him hard. When she looked up, his cheeks were wet.
“Touching,” Amilton-Shawdell said. His double voice carried thick overtones of mockery. “One’s father is so very important, is he not?”
King Zachary emerged from the shadows, not stopping until he reached the dais. He craned his neck to look up at Amilton-Shawdell. “Our father ignored me. He loved you. He loved you even after you made too many mistakes. It was me he felt less for.”
“He named you king.”
“Yes, because he loved Sacoridia, too.”
Amilton-Shawdell waved his hand dismissively. “It is all in the past. Other matters interest us now.”
“Yes, there are two of you now, isn’t there? But soon there will be only one, isn’t that right?”
“One? We are together. We work for one purpose.”
“The man who was my brother will be no more,” Zachary said.
Amilton-Shawdell rocked on his feet, his forehead crinkling and jaw clenched. Veins bulged on his neck, and his hands curled into balls as if he strove with himself for mastery. A black glow blossomed around the stone at his throat, and his blue eyes flared. In a moment the struggle was over. His features smoothed over and his hands relaxed.
“We wish it.” He stepped down the dais and stood face-to-face with his brother. “We have learned to draw on the powers of Kanmorhan Vane. They strengthen and unite us. You were a fool to refuse this partnership.”
“Not I,” Zachary said. “For all Father ignored me, we both shared a great love for this land. You would destroy it. An opening in the D’Yer Wall will cause a great blight and all that is living will perish or be perverted. We will return to the darkest, most primitive of times. The Black Ages will return though we left them behind a thousand years ago.”
“In destroying we shall renew.”
“You will renew the evil of Mornhavon the Black, and I will not allow it.”
Karigan held her breath as the two brothers fixed their eyes on one another, each reading deep into the other’s soul.
Zachary’s hand lashed out, and he snatched the black stone. Then he froze, just short of yanking it off its gold chain, unable to release it. Bolts of energy burst between his fingers and coiled up his arm. His mouth gaped open in a silent scream.
Another current erupted from the stone and fused into Amilton-Shawdell’s chest. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply as if taking in fresh air. His hair acquired a radiant golden sheen.
Fastion ran full tilt across the throne room to aid the king. With the flick of Amilton-Shawdell’s hand, a bolt of energy tossed Fastion across the width of the throne room and against a pillar. The Weapon crumpled to the floor.
Karigan knit her eyebrows together. She watched in disbelief, shaking her head. “No,” she muttered. “This isn’t right.”
“What?” Her father was still addled from his ordeal.
“I was wrong.” Her voice raised an octave in urgency. “Using the magic doesn’t exhaust him, it feeds him. It empowers him.”
Amilton-Shawdell’s intensity grew and spread out from him like a black aura that pushed away the light. Zachary’s eyes bulged, but he remained unmoving, statue still, trapped in a web of magical currents.
Captain Mapstone drew her sword, but Mirwell caught her arm. “The final play of Intrigue!” he shouted.
Beryl raised her hand to strike him, but he turned on her. “Axium cor helio dast, Mor au havon!” The words rumbled from his throat like thunder, and Karigan thought the very air must splinter beneath their weight.