Feast of Chaos (Four Feasts Till Darkness Book 3) (106 page)

“You have never taken innocent life before. I know that, my Fawn. But she was no innocent, and we had no choice,” whispered the Wolf. Savage as his nature decreed, he began rifling the body, searching. “Where is the arkstone?”

“I told you he would not be fast enough to catch the Lady of the Winds,” shouted Amunai.

The bloodmates flew to each other and stared into the flashing dark. A far-off glint of sapphire light caught their attention. From any distance, it was impossible to mistake the arkstone’s glory. Although it first appeared to be levitating, the Wolf noticed the shadow holding the artifact. It was as
if Amunai’s smoldering soul had simply stepped from her sister’s body and manifested as something no less gaseous.

The Wolf immediately wondered whether the darkness had enough meat to its matter for him to tear. She couldn’t win. He wouldn’t allow this to be the end. Just before he charged, before his bloodmate shrieked at him to rush the witch, he heard Amunai laugh. Then the blue star of the arkstone vanished, the laugh along with it. Eatoth fell into darkness. The Wolf slashed nothing but air. Morigan wept over the body of the Keeper.

The arkstone had been taken. They had lost.

EPILOGUE

“W
hat news?” Elemech looked up from her pool, which revealed nothing pleasant. She noticed that Eean’s expression suggested a bleaker forecast than any of her own visions.

Rather than reply, Eean shuffled across the cavern to the limestone table, laid her staff upon it, and sat her tired self down on a bench. She poured herself a cup of water from the ewer on the table. Although the receptacle could conjure anything she desired—such as the stiffest, vilest whisky—Eean wanted to keep her wits about her. They couldn’t afford to indulge in drink, sadness, or time wasting of any kind. The time for fun had ended.

While she refreshed herself, her sisters, drawn like moths, came to her. Elemech sat to her left. Ealasyd climbed onto the table and sat there as if she were a naughty pet. She’d brought her toys with her, too. New figures, a pair of them, neither of which the older sisters had ever before seen. The first figure was a man carved of bone. It was beautiful, especially in light of Ealasyd’s usual works. Despite his pose of kneeling prayer, his angularity and refinement revealed he could be only one person: Magnus. However, he was bent and humbled, and no longer looked like a king.

“Magnus,” said Ealasyd, playing with the ridges of his sculpted hair. “Or rather, the man he will become. A long road is ahead of him. A dark road. I’d rather not see him walk it. But I think there’s something nice for him at the end.”

“
Siogtine
? (Penance?)” asked Eean.

“I seem to have forgotten what that word means—so possibly,” replied Ealasyd.

“Who’s that?” Eean tapped the other figurine, which was also well crafted. It was a woman tall and fair. The darkness of her mineral skin—true ebony—concealed finer details. Somehow, though, Ealasyd’s fingers had managed to affix two grains of crystalline sand in the sockets of the figurine’s eyes. The doll’s stare shone with light as Eean picked up the little person and turned her around in her hands. “She seems quite fearsome. Is she wicked?”

“No!” Ealasyd, quite upset, snatched the doll back, then grabbed little Magnus as well. “He needs a proper queen. A queen of night for a king of winter. The one you chose for him last time was all wrong, though she’s quite right for another. No, this one will choose him, and he will choose her. That way, there won’t be any mistakes. And don’t ask if you can play with them, Elemech! I see your talons clenching like a greedy hawk. It’s not time for their tale, so you don’t get to see. Not for a winter’s winter!”

After that, Ealasyd retreated into a quiet game, whispering to her dolls and making them stiffly dance. Soon she was smiling, no doubt having forgotten all that she’d said. However, her sisters had not. They still had much to discuss.

“This is good, Sister,” said Elemech. “If she senses echoes of the future, then perhaps we are not all doomed. What did you see in your travels?”

“Nothing that would foretell of the righteous winning this war,” replied Eean, dark and grim. “Our shadows have left the woods.”

Elemech gasped.

“They are not bound as we are, and they realize this,” continued Eean. “I watched our shadows meet and possibly form an alliance with Aghna and the army of wolves. I see three storms coming for Eod, and I know not how many it can endure. Each will wear down a bit of stone, a bit of the peoples’ will…Brutus, Xalloreth, and now an army led by our wicked shadows and a vengeful warmother. Man cannot defeat a three-headed horror. One of these storms will destroy what remains of the civilization that holds the Black Queen at bay. I see no survival for those who would protect life and decency.”

Elemech made a sudden, passionate appeal. She reached out and took her sister’s hand. In that moment, Elemech, the Lady of Sorrows, shone as the Lady of Light. “Sister. Storms come with every season. This one will be the most thunderous Geadhain has ever seen in all its long years. But we must believe in these heroes. We must believe in my daughter and the son of Brutus. Children can right the wrongs of their parents. Such is the law of inheritance. What is ruined can be repaired by the ones who come after. So do not lose hope. Do not be eaten by despair. Pray with me for our children, our hope. I know you can do this, for you have always been the backbone of our family. You have always been our hope.”

“Not always.” Eean smiled.

The sisters hugged, kissed, and sang ancient tunes. Eventually, Ealasyd added her sweet voice to the duo. For now, all was calm.

—Fin—