Page 44

Sword of Light

Venturing into the mainlands of Toichrist, Adelina rode to the rocky terrain of the Svatken Peninsula. There, she’d find the caves. In the deepest cave, she’d be reunited with Svarog—the god who’d presented himself to her during the test.

As she approached the cluster of caves, she tried to determine which would be the right one. Some had smaller openings, which she ignored. Further along the track, she spotted a large swell in the mountainside.

She guided her horse through the opening, then dismounted.

At least with the horse sheltered, they’d less likely be spotted by Filip’s men should any be stationed nearby.

Patting the horse on its hide, she scanned her new surroundings.

Bumpy stone walls with fingerlings of tree roots growing through made up the structure of the cave.

Dirt and dead leaves had been blown in by the wind.

Faint tracks marked the dirt of some animal living there.

Stalactites hung from the ceiling, and water dripped from cracks, pooling onto the dusty floor.

Venturing into the cave, she followed the passageway, which led her deeper underground. The wind whistled through breaches in the stone, and the skittering of what she assumed to be animal paws made her jump.

Swirling her fingers through the air, she produced an orb of orange light. It illuminated the crevices in the walls, and the water slick surfaces. She grimaced at the stench of stale air and stagnant water.

She slipped on a patch of wet rock, sliding into a tall boulder.

Her heart slammed against her ribcage. Jamming her fingers into the fissures for handholds, she hoisted herself up and over the boulder blocking her narrow path.

She bumped her head on the low ceiling in the dim lighting.

Lifting her dusty covered hand, she prodded the injury on her crown.

“At least there’s no blood.” She sighed as she inspected her fingers.

Water dripped from a crack somewhere above her, then slid down her nape, making her shiver. She tugged her cloak tight around her.

Damir’s face flashed in her mind—she jolted back into the rough, jagged wall. Her breath caught in her throat. This wasn’t like her other visualisations of her husband. This time, it was tangible, as if he were real in front of her.

Clasping a hand over her mouth, tears prickled her eyes.

“Damir?” she whispered .

She focused all of her being, power, and will on the image.

The walls of a prison came into view as if she’d been transported there.

The prison bled into the peripheral of her vision, where it blended with her true surroundings in the cave.

Her magic had seemingly given her a foothold in two areas at once.

She’d worry about the logistics later. Right now, her concern was Damir.

Stretching an arm, she reached for him, but her fingers couldn’t quite pierce the veil of the true distance between them. A shimmering surface separated them, like a window. She couldn’t help him.

A thick lump formed in her throat and her chest tightened.

“Damir?” she asked again.

He said nothing.

Even though she’d known it impossible, she’d hoped he’d heard her. Instead, he remained slumped against the water-slick wall, his clothes caked with dirt.

Adelina’s blood ran cold. A sickly sensation made her stomach somersault as she surveyed his pale face, sallow cheeks, and sunken eyes. His hair was matted, hanging limp around his face. There was no comfort in his cell, not even a bed of hay to sleep on.

“Perhaps she doesn’t love you enough.” The grating sound of Pyotr’s voice dragged Adelina’s attention to the bars.

He leaned against it, arms casually draped through the gaps.

What was he doing there? “I would’ve thought she’d have come for you by now.

I know Adelina is close with her little sister, Tihana.

I’m sure she will be sufficient bait.” A callous smile spread across his lips.

Damir ground out, “Don’t touch her.”

“As soon as we have her within our possession, you, on the other hand, will have outlived your use. I’m sure Filip will agree.”

Footsteps drew nearer, thundering along the stone path.

“Speaking of which, he’s come to join us,” Pyotr said.

“I want an update,” Filip said abruptly, without casting a glance in Damir’s direction. His icy stare focused on Pyotr, who Adelina realised to be his accomplice.

“We’ve kept him here for weeks, and nothing. There is no sign of his wife. We must move our sights to Tihana,” Pyotr said. “Adelina may have stayed away on her husband’s order, but she will not refuse the calling to save her sister.”

Filip nodded once. “Get it done. Kill him.”

He turned on his heel, his black cloak flapping behind him, as he disappeared from the prison.

“No!” Adelina screamed, clawing at the veil separating her from her husband.

The image dissipated like dust in the wind, and she fell to her knees.

Ignoring the hard crunch of stone beneath her kneecaps, she clamped her hands over her eyes and sobbed.

She didn’t understand how she’d been able to see events as they transpired.

Her previous visions of Damir were more like memories than they were real, but this one shook her to her core.

There was no reason for Filip to show her false images, even if he was capable of doing so. She had no way of knowing when the conversation took place. For all she knew, Damir could already be dead, and her sister held captive.

Her tears subsided, and in their absence, her eyes ached. Lowering her hands, a white-hot rage bubbled underneath the surface of her skin, spreading like wildfire through her veins. She dug her nails into the gritty floor and ground her teeth.

Rising, she charged deeper into the cave, overcome with a need to call upon Svarog. He’d chosen her for a reason, entrusted her with astral power, and she’d use every drop of it to save her sister and husband—if he lived. But a part of her knew Filip wouldn’t hold back.

“Svarog!” she called—her voice echoing through the channels of the cave. “I have everything you need to make the Sword of Light.”

Her words were met with silence.

“Svarog, please .” Her body trembled as she scanned the dimly lit cave for the dragon.

Nothing but the sound of her own breath and the distant skitter of insects answered her.

Unable to bear the deafening quiet cloaking her, she dropped to the gritty cave floor.

With a half-hearted flick of her finger, she cast a golden orb to provide further light.

She needed to rest. All she wanted to do was rest , to shut out the ache in her heart, the utter helplessness seizing her body. Without the Sword, she had no hope.

None at all.

Curling in her a ball, she closed her eyes and shut out the world.

∞∞∞

Unaware of how much time had passed since she’d fallen asleep, Adelina pushed back the loose strands of hair from her face as she scrambled to her feet.

Swallowing her anger at being ignored by the god—she’d had no other choice but to believe it was ignorance, and he hadn’t abandoned her for good—she sucked in a ragged breath, clamped her eyes shut, and steadied the thumping of her heart.

After she’d counted to ten, she opened her eyes and injected as much patience as she could into her tone.

“Please, Svarog. I need your help. You chose me for this, and while I may not understand the limitations of my powers, or can even begin to comprehend Filip’s, I’m here.

I’m ready to serve you, the innocent people of these countries, and my family. The Sword of Light is my only hope.”

A bright, golden light drenched the jagged rocks and reflected in the pools of water. The almost translucent body of Svarog took form, his giant wings expanding the full width of the cave.

Fire blazed from his skin, illuminated the rows of red scales. He lowered his wings, curling them into his sides, and his tail wrapped around him. The fire reduced to a gentle glow.

“You came,” she breathed. Every muscle in her body relaxed, the heavy load weighing on her shoulders lessened, and the ache in her heart dulled to a slight throb .

“Yessss,” he said in his hypnotic tone.

She hadn’t seen him since the test a few months ago, and she’d forgotten how regal this dragon God was.

“I need your help,” she repeated, flattening her hands against her legs. “We all do.”

“You have the obssssidian?” He flicked his forked tongue out of the corner of his mouth.

“Yes, and the Alatyr.” She drew them from the folds of her cloak, then stretched her hand. “It’s everything you need.”

“Sssso it issss.” His voice was almost a whisper—a lullaby on the gentle whistle of wind through the cave. Her whole being calmed in his presence.

The dragon closed his beady eyes for a moment, and a golden shield popped out around him, spinning slowly on its axis. It expanded until she was in the dome with him. Beyond the veil of the golden dome, the cave walls were almost invisible.

The two stones burned in her palm. She dropped them and stumbled back, falling onto her coccyx, which sent a sharp jolt of pain up her the base of her spine. A cool breeze whipped around her, throwing her hair in every which way.

Clawing her hair back, she pushed onto her knees.

Her gaze was transfixed on the dragon, God of the Sun.

The sword’s handle materialised, forming itself from magic—the obsidian rose from the ground and fixed itself into the pommel.

Sparkling into existence, the blade expanded, glinting in the golden light.

Finally, the Alatyr stone took flight, and fused itself with the glowing sword.

A stream of white magic burst from the metal, all but blinding her .

Closing her eyes, she waited for the light to subside. When the brightness behind her eyelids dimmed, she opened her eyes. Hovering in front of her was the Sword of Light, and Svarog smiled.

“Usssse it well, Adelina Orlova,” he said.