Page 150 of Bloodwitch

Then Merik moved. Before Kullen could see he held nothing but two stones. Before more ice could fall and stop him from fleeing forever.

His winds vaulted him high. Up three spirals, he zipped and swirled. Ice meteored down. Lightning scorched upward. But Kullen and his magic were not fast enough. Merik reached the open door and soared in.

What he found was a tomb—he knew that truth as soon as he burst inside, for already two shadows hovered inside the ice wall. Small, child-sized figures sucked into this eternal, sleeping ice. Between the two shapes were two empty holes, man-sized and waiting.

Merik strode toward the one on the right. Three long paces, and the closer he came, the more the ice crackled outward. Clawing and hungry.Come, come, and find release. Come, come, the ice will hold you.

But Merik did not step into the hole. Not yet.

His blood roared in his ears. His muscles shook and his belly spun—and it was not because of the mountain. It was because Merik knew what he had to do.

Then the room darkened, as he’d known it would, and shadows skated across the trembling floor. Even though Merik was ready, even though he was waiting, nothing could prepare him for the Fury’s attack.

It railed against him, a battering ram of winds that crunched Merik’s spine before slinging him around to face the entrance. To face Kullen stalking just outside.

“Give me my blade,” the Fury ordered through the tomb’s entrance. “Give me my glass.”

Merik opened his hands. Empty now, for he’d left the rocks in the collapsing spiral. And as he’d hoped—as he’dexpected—the Fury’s temper took hold. He charged into the tomb, a berserking streak of winds and shadows and raging, blackened snow. He slammed Merik against the ice, first with magic.

Then with touch, with a grip that cut off Merik’s air and silenced the magic in his veins. “What,” he hissed, “have you done with them?”

All Merik could do was laugh at that question. At the beast before him. A breathless wheeze that rattled in his chest because Kullen was gone. Merik saw that now, and it made the next step—the final step—so much easier.

For at least in all his mistakes, Merik had gotten one thing right: one for the sake of many.

Kullen’s grip tightened. Sparks flickered over Merik’s eyes. No breath, no thought, and that was all right; he didn’t need them anymore. All he needed were his muscles and a few more seconds…

Merik flung both his arms backward, into the nearest tomb. Into the waiting ice. His hands pressed against it, instantly numbing. And instantly singing,singingthat song that never ceased.

Come, come, and find release.

Then the ice erupted. It raced up Merik’s arms, a climbing, heaving, frantic thing that hit his shoulders, then leaped across to Kullen. Shadows froze in midair.

Come, come, the ice will hold you.

Kullen gasped, as if plunged into a winter sea. Still the ice groped and expanded. It glazed over his chest before raking down his legs. Then it sliced over Merik’s back, and down Kullen’s too.

When it reached their throats, Merik finally looked into Kullen’s eyes. Hisrealeyes, no longer black. No longer lost, but merely blue and sad and true. His Threadbrother’s eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Kullen croaked.

And Merik wanted to say the same thing. Never had he wanted anything more. Kullen was here. He wasalive. And there was so much Merik needed to apologize for.

But the ice had covered Merik’s mouth now, and all he could do in that moment was blink—again and again, fluttering away thick tears building on his cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” Kullen said once more. “The raiders made it into the mountain.”

Then the ice covered Merik’s tears. The ice covered Merik’s eyes.

Come, come and face the end.

Merik and Kullen slept.

SIXTY

It all happened so fast. Safi’s mind and body were pulled apart, then reassembled. And before her thoughts could catch up to her muscles, she was plunged out the other side.

She toppled into Lev’s waiting arms. Cold, damp night brushed against her.