Page 33 of Skalterra By Nightmare (The Skalterra Duology #1)

Bright purple light seared across my vision, and hundreds of tiny ice shards bit into the skin of my face and arms. I hid against the ground, still screaming Orla’s name, as heat licked at my back and the ice rolled beneath me.

The blast settled, but the lake continued to groan, and I looked up through snow-dusted locks of blue hair. Snow and Orla’s lilac sparks hung in the air, and I fought to see through the haze.

A body lay on the ice several yards ahead me, horribly still and lifeless.

“Orla!”

I scrambled through the ice debris, ignoring the cracking of the ground beneath my bare feet. I rolled her onto her back, and my heart plummeted.

The wound in her chest had partially cauterized, but blood still seeped from the edges of the gash, staining her tunic and armor. Her goggles had completely shattered, and her eyelids fluttered over ruddy, chapped cheeks.

The woman Grimguard screamed Ciarán’s name somewhere behind me, and when I prodded at the tether between us, it felt weak and brittle.

If he was injured, he wouldn’t be able to follow us, but a distant worry for his wellbeing nagged at the corners of my mind.

Orla shuddered, and I wadded her cloak against her chest in an effort to stem the bleeding.

“Orla, can you hear me?”

I pulled her broken goggles off her face, and her head lolled back in my hands.

“Orla, please!”

She groaned softly, her eyes still closed, and my heart hitched.

“Come on, we can’t stay here.”

When I tried to lift her, however, my legs gave out, and we collapsed back on the ice together.

I needed Skal.

I pushed through Orla’s cloak in search of the bottles at her belt. Two bottles were shattered, one was empty, but the fourth glowed with Skal.

The bottle was warm in my hand, and the Skal inside swirled blithely. I needed it to save us both, but I hesitated with my fingers on the stopper.

What if the hunger came back? Judging by the sound of the woman still yelling his name behind me, I didn’t think Ciarán was in any condition to stop me if I veered back towards rotsbane territory.

Orla’s breathing was shallow and rapid. She didn’t have long.

I uncorked the bottle and took a swig of the glowing liquid.

It heated me from the inside, electrifying every nerve. Strength returned to my arms and legs, and while I craved more, it wasn’t the same unbearable hunger as before. I formed a new pair of boots over my bare feet as I lifted Orla onto my back.

Her head slumped against mine, and she groaned again.

“Nightmare!”

the woman screamed behind me, and I twisted around to face her.

Orla’s blast had left a massive hole in the ice, and the Grimguard knelt on the opposite side of it. Her hood had fallen away, and wild hair twisted in the wind. Ciarán lay next to her, unmoving, and I tested our connection again just to make sure he was alive.

The woman raised her bow arm towards me and nocked an orange arrow in place.

We stared at each other, the wind howling between us. Her orange eyes glowed in the snowy gloom, and I held her gaze in a silent dare to fire.

But then she lowered her arm and bent over Ciarán’s body. I watched for a moment to make sure she wouldn’t change her mind about shooting us, then turned and ran.

“You should’ve run when I told you too,”

I muttered to the snow.

“And where the hell did you get purple magick?”

Hopefully the others weren’t too far ahead. Hopefully there was some kind of shelter at the lake’s edge where I could help Orla.

Her chest heaved against my back with ragged breaths, and each one accompanied a weak, raspy exhale in my ear.

“Where do I go?”

I whispered. I wasn’t even sure this was the right direction.

“Dammit, Orla, I don’t know what I’m doing!”

“Wren Warrender, do you know you nearly killed me?”

I’d never been so relieved to hear Galahad’s voice in my head.

“Galahad, help.”

I must’ve slipped back under his jurisdiction when Orla’s attack had injured Ciarán. I clawed at the strengthening tether between us, though I was careful not to take any more Skal.

“I have Orla, but I don’t know where to go. She’s- she’s not okay.”

“But she’s alive?”

“For now,”

I panted, still fighting through the wind in a full sprint.

“And you promise you aren’t a rotsbane?”

I blinked away tears, afraid they might freeze my eyes shut if I let them fall.

“I’m not a rotsbane.”

“You should be. I felt how much magick you took from me.”

“I know. I’m sorry. Yell at me later. I need to know where to take Orla.”

“I left you a trail. You’ll be able to see it as long as we’re connected. Find the silver wisps. They’ll bring you here.”

I slid to a stop to search the gloom for any glowing wisps, whatever a wisp might look like.

“Sure, no problem,”

I sighed.

“Should be easy to find something silver when literally everything else is gray and white.”

“And once again I’m struck by the fact that I ended up with the daftest Nightmare to ever be unlucky enough to travel Skalterra. Don’t search with your eyes, girl.”

I shrugged off Galahad’s comments. I didn’t have time to be offended, and I had nearly killed him.

I focused on the Skal coursing through my veins, not entirely sure how to find Galahad’s trail but figuring it would probably work along the same lines as the magick bond between us. A tugging pulled me to the left, and I trusted the feeling and chased after it. A bit of light glimmered in the gloom, shining like a silver ghost that fluttered in the wind.

“I found it!” I said.

“Hurry, Nightmare. I quite like the Quillguard in your care. I’d hate for her to die so close to home.”

“Galahad.”

I stopped to inspect the glowing silver orb that he’d called a wisp. It was roughly the size of a softball, and a gentle heat radiated off its surface. Another one floated twenty or so yards ahead.

“Something weird happened with Orla.”

“Weird how?”

“Is it normal for a Magician’s Skal to change color?”

Galahad was quiet in my head, and I trudged onwards to the next wisp of silver Skal.

“Wren Warrender,”

he finally said.

“don’t you tell me that girl’s Skal turned purple.”

A dread I couldn’t explain crept in my chest.

“How did you know it was purple?”

“Keep that girl alive.”

Galahad’s voice turned hard and brittle.

“She is your new priority. Keep her alive, Wren Warrender, or die trying.”

I adjusted my grip on Orla and took my sprint back up. Galahad’s trail was easy to follow now that I knew how to feel for the Skal he’d left burning in the air for me to find. The rocky side of a mountain loomed ahead, and I forced even more magick into my legs.

When we finally reached the frozen shore of the lake, I laid Orla down on the rocks to take another sip of Skal. Gray, snow-laden crags rose overhead, and the lakeshore stretched into gloom in either direction.

I knelt next to Orla, checking that she was still breathing. Snow clung to her eyelashes, and the tips of her short hair had frozen, but tiny puffs of foggy breath escaped her mouth and nose. She was still alive.

I fashioned one of her broken Skal bottles into a makeshift knife, and cut the hem of her new cloak into strips to use as a bandage. She bled from her back as well as her chest, and I did my best to press the fabric into both wounds, securing it in place with the help of her leather armor.

“Sorry, Orla,”

I grunted as I lifted her again. Frozen rocks cracked and slipped under my boots, and I twisted around, searching for Galahad’s next wisp.

Skal tugged me towards the cliff face where a wisp floated over a line of large boulders.

“Why?”

I groaned, and maneuvered Orla up onto the rocks. She was all limb, and I did what I could to not aggravate the injuries I’d just tended.

The next wisp was a few feet below us, floating in the shelter of a crack in the cliff that had been invisible from the beach. It looked like a dead-end, but I had to trust the trail Galahad had left. I slid off the rock first, then lowered Orla after me.

“Galahad?”

I leaned forward to slump Orla over my back, ducking extra low to crawl between the slabs of rock.

Wind whistled outside, but we were protected from the snow here. Silver glowed around a corner up ahead, and another wisp tugged at the Skal that linked me to Galahad.

“How far ahead did they get?”

I hissed to Orla’s unconscious body and trudged forward on legs I refused to let fatigue.

The tunnel widened around the next corner, and the cave walls smoothed. More silver light beckoned me around another corner, and I gasped as we turned into a wide cave with an arched ceiling that stretched deeper into the mountain.

“It’s a pyroduct,”

I breathed.

“Orla, we’re in a lava tube. Are we near a volcano?”

The silver wisps stretched forward with the lava tube, and I chased after them. They tapered away into nothingness as I approached, and I counted the steps between them. Each wisp brought me closer to the others. I would make sure Orla found help.

However, the silver light of wisps grew dimmer and dimmer, until I caught up with the final orb. It winked away, and the tunnel turned dark.

“Galahad?”

I called. My voice echoed through the cave, as if taunting me.

I wiggled an arm out from under Orla, and lit a silver flame in my palm. The cave continued onward for who knew how far, but the wisps had ended right here. I scanned the floors, the ceiling, the walls, until I noticed the low, hand-carved archway to my left.

A steep, stone stairway continued past the arch, but my flame only lit the first few steps because the stairs spiraled out of sight beyond a corner.

“We’re in the Second Sentinel, aren’t we?”

I murmured to Orla.

“We just have to go up, right? And you’ll be home.”

The stairway was narrow, and the steps were uneven, but I climbed their spiraling pathway as best I could with Orla slumped on my back, chasing after the shadows cast by my fire.

The air was thick and stale in my lungs, and I struggled to breathe, but I forged forward. I lost count of the steps, and even with my Skal-enhanced strength and endurance, I worried the stairs would never end.

It was impossible to tell how far we’d traveled when I finally leaned Orla against the curved wall of the stairwell to drink the last of her Skal. I held a hand up to her face, and tiny, warm breaths broke over my fingertips.

Still alive.

“That would be just like you,”

I grunted as I continued up the stairs with replenished strength.

“Save my life and turn your Skal purple, and then immediately die. I would never forgive you.”

A breath of fresh, frigid air wafted over my cheeks, and a bit of dying sunlight played with the silver shadows of my skalfire. For a moment, I thought we’d made it to wherever the stairs led, but the next bend in the stairs revealed a slot-like window, nearly two feet deep, carved into the wall. The setting sun turned the mist outside a dusky orange.

“It’s almost night.”

Hopefully the window was a sign that we were at least getting close, and I hurried upwards with renewed energy.

“I’ve been asleep all day back at home. I wonder if anyone’s found me.”

It would probably be best to not speak out loud and conserve energy that way, but talking to Orla felt good. Maybe she could hear me. Maybe my voice would keep her here.

“I passed out in my friend’s bedroom when Galahad called me,”

I explained to Orla’s unconscious body.

“But my friend was missing, so I’m not sure if he’s come back yet. It’s going to scare the crap out of him when he finds me on his floor. Kind of like how you’re scaring the crap out of me right now.”

We passed by another window, and I drank in the fresh air.

I would be strong enough to get Orla home. I would have to be.

“Him and you,”

I sighed.

“You’re my only two friends, and he might be missing, and you might be dying. Dammit, Orla, Skalterra won’t be worth coming back to if you die. You’re too wonderful to die, alright?”

The glimpses I caught through the intermittent air vents showed a darker and darker night sky, until my tiny skalflame was once again the only source of light.

My legs grew numb beneath me as I put countless steps behind us. My back ached, but I fixed that by redirecting a small amount of Skal to kill the nerve endings in my muscles. This was a temporary body, anyway. I didn’t need pain to remind me to take it easy.

I’d started to think I would be climbing forever, when the stairwell widened. The steps became less steep, and more fresh air than the tiny vents could allow washed over me, extinguishing my flame and leaving me in the dull green glow of some unseen light source.

“Orla,”

I hissed.

“Orla, I think we’re there.”

She stayed silent on my back.

The stairs opened up to a massive cavern. Lanterns glowing with emerald skalflames lined the space and spat light up columns that looked like ancient lava pillars. A wide opening looked out over the dark landscape below to my right, and the wind that rolled through made the lantern light waver and dance.

“Who’s there?”

a voice called out, and I twisted to see two guardsmen standing at the feet of a statue tall enough to dwarf Von Leer’s main college hall. The face of a stone man stared down at us from the shadows that clung to the cavern ceiling.

I staggered towards the guards. I’d made it. I hoped I wasn’t too late.

“I have Orla Quillguard! She needs help!”

“Alert the infirmary!”

one of the guardsmen barked to the other before rushing to pull Orla off my back. The green light of the lanterns made her pale skin look all the more sickly in his arms.

“Is- is she dead?”

My legs shook beneath me, and I stumbled after the man as he carried Orla to the massive tunnel between the statue’s feet.

“I don’t know,”

he admitted. He gave me a sideways glance over Orla’s lolled head.

“They mentioned you were coming, but they didn’t say who you are. How far did you carry her?”

“The whole way up.”

“That’s over fifteen thousand steps.”

“If Galahad could shuffle up this far, then so could I.”

“The other Riftkeepers arrived via the lift.”

I faltered mid-step.

“There’s a lift?”

“Of course. You can’t expect us to walk fifteen thousand steps every time we want to come and go. Who did you say you are, again?”

“Oh, I’m—”

I cut off as we came out the tunnel’s other end. We were in the hollow peak of a mountain. Walkways, railings, and sweeping staircases carved directly out of the mountain’s dark stone circled the massive well that sat at the hive’s center. Soft blue light filtered upwards, reaching for the hole at the peak of the mountain that offered a glimpse of the stars above.

Rock formations resembling lava pillars cast shadows that were swallowed by dark alcoves and corridors.

“Orla!”

A young man ran to meet us. Green cloaks billowed around him, and his hair stuck up like Ferrin’s. His nose had the same gentle swoop to it that Orla’s had, but his chin was more square.

“What happened?”

“Ask the stranger.”

The guard shouldered past the young man.

“Out of my way, Cade. Orla needs the infirmary.”

“That’s my sister you’re holding!”

the young man snarled. He shot me a glance, then chased after the guard. Curious faces peeked out at us from the off-shooting corridors and archways, but I ignored them.

“Cade?”

I called after the man. My legs were like jelly, and I needed Skal, but I managed to keep up.

“You’re Orla’s brother?”

“I knew this would happen,”

he muttered more to himself than to me. Orla had never mentioned a brother, and it was difficult to guess which of the two were older.

“I told her not to go. Begged her.”

“She’s not dead yet.”

But the ghastly pallor that had taken over Orla’s face made me second-guess the words. I’d carried her all this way. She couldn’t be dead. Not when I’d tried so hard.

We ducked down a side corridor. Green Skal-light reflected off the polished surface of the floor, and I tried to swallow my heart back down into my chest where it belonged.

However, it continued to beat in my throat as the corridor opened into a long room lined with cots. Moonlight poured in through the open wall opposite the beds, and stars glittered over a carpet of misty clouds that stretched on forever below us. Despite having little more than intermittent columns of rock to block out the elements, the room was warm and windless. White Skal burned in lanterns, and men and women in pale blue tunics hurried to take Orla from the guard.

They lowered her onto a cot and began pulling her armor away. I let myself get shoved to the edge of the fray. Medics called for supplies and for space to work, and one of them pulled Cade back despite his efforts to stay at his sister’s side.

I watched them extricate the strips of cloak I’d used as makeshift bandages. They were soaked through with blood.

“Nightmare!”

Rough hands grabbed my shoulders to spin me around. Galahad’s grizzled face was inches from mine, and I stumbled backwards. His stomach and chest were bandaged under his leather duster, and maybe it was the white light from the lanterns, but he looked paler than usual.

His gray eyes burned with something like fury, and I gulped.

I’d nearly killed him by taking all his Skal.

“I’m sorry,”

I gushed.

“I didn’t mean—”

He put his gnarled hands back on my shoulders, and pulled me in for a hug.

I froze in the embrace.

Maybe it wasn’t a hug. Maybe it was a very slow tackle.

Galahad gave a shuddering sigh in my arms, and then pulled away with tears in his eyes.

“I thought I’d killed you,”

he said.

“I thought I’d worse than killed you. I was so certain you’d turned rotsbane. I don’t know how you didn’t.”

I shrugged, still taken aback by Galahad’s sudden remorse and affection.

“I don’t know,”

I lied. Ciarán’s tether was still there, weakly burning in the pit in my stomach. I hoped Galahad couldn’t feel it.

He stared over my shoulder at the medics surrounding Orla’s cot.

“Who’ve you told?”

“Told?”

I repeated.

“You mean the purple—”

He pressed a finger against his lips.

“I’d heard her mother was close with Oren, but…”

He trailed off, and I felt as if the infirmary floor had dropped out from under me.

Ferrin had told me about Oren and how Orla’s mother had died protecting him.

“Oren Quill?”

I asked.

“But he was a Divine Sovereign.”

Galahad nodded slowly, and I twisted around to try to get a better look at Orla in her bed.

“The Quills were known for their purple Skal,”

Galahad whispered.

“And you’re sure it was Orla’s Skal you saw burning purple?”

“Positive. But why would they keep that a secret and not tell at least Orla?”

Galahad snorted.

“Riftkeepers are sworn to protect the Divine Sovereigns. Relationships that go beyond that capacity have always been forbidden.”

Sweet, kind Orla, descended from the closest thing Skalterra had to a pantheon.

Of course she was. She was, after all, spectacular.

And she might be dying.

“Ferrin is preparing to meet with the Second Sentinel leadership in the Obsidian Hall downstairs,”

Galahad said.

“Tell him what you saw. If Orla’s what I think she is… Well. Tell Ferrin first. He knew his sister best.”

“Right. And her brother?”

I glanced sideways at Cade where he continued to try to push through medics to Orla’s side.

Galahad frowned.

“He may be a Sovereign as well, but I’m not sure. Find Ferrin. Tell him to hurry.”

“Hurry?”

My heart caught.

“Orla’s fine. She’s here now. They’re helping her.”

“Find Ferrin.”

Galahad procured a Skal bottle from his belt and sipped at its contents. Energy flowed from him to me and into my back and legs. He beckoned for the guard that had carried Orla to the infirmary.

“You there! Take my friend to the Obsidian Hall.”

The guard nodded, and I followed him back the way we’d come. I tried to catch a glimpse of Orla as we exited, but there were too many bodies around her.

“Ma’am?”

The guard hesitated ahead of me, and I ripped my gaze away from Orla’s medical team.

“Sorry. I’m coming.”

An entire city hid inside the mountain peak, and I tried to take in as much as I could while the guard led me down stairways that circled the well at the center of the hollow.

The pool of Skal at the bottom was larger than the one that had been in Tulyr. Pale blue light filtered off its surface, illuminating the lava pillars that supported the cavern walls. Dark stalagmites broke the surface of the Skal, and bits of glowing liquid clung to the rocks to make them glitter.

“The Obsidian Hall is through there.”

The guard pointed to the large, wooden doors that stood across the pool. A stone path cut through the Skal, and I hurried across it to push through the doors.

They creaked on their hinges, and starlight glittered across the polished black floor. Ferrin stood at the end of a long room with a high ceiling, staring out another open window that looked over the same low-hanging clouds I could see from the infirmary.

He turned to look at me in surprise. Dirt and blood smudged his face, and he was in the same tattered clothing he’d been traveling in. He hadn’t had the chance to clean up yet.

“Wren?”

His brow creased with worry.

“You made it. Where’s Orla? Is she—”

“She’s hurt.”

I twisted my hands together.

“She took an arrow straight through her chest, but she’s upstairs, and they’re helping her but—”

I broke off, shaking my head.

If Orla died, I would never forgive myself.

Ferrin crossed the polished floor to meet me, concern etched in every line on his face. He put sturdy hands on my shoulders.

“Tell me she’s going to be okay.”

“I don’t know,”

I admitted.

“Galahad told me to tell you to hurry. It’s my fault, Ferrin. She did it to save me.”

I couldn’t help the sting in my eyes, and Ferrin pulled me into a hug.

“It’s not your fault,”

he insisted.

“Orla is— well, she’s Orla, and she’d do anything for her friends. But we made it. That’s all that matters.”

I shook in his arms, finally letting myself feel the fear of losing Orla. This might be my last night in Skalterra now that we’d made it to the Second Sentinel, but I wasn’t sure how I could go on living in Keldori if I knew Orla was gone.

Both our worlds would be darker without her.

“I’m sorry,”

I whispered.

“I’m the one who should be sorry. You’re both too young for this line of work.”

“There’s something else.”

I cleared my throat and pushed away. Ferrin’s brow furrowed deeper at the look on my face.

“I- I think—”

I cut off, not sure if there was a tactful way to tell Ferrin about his sister’s secret, illicit relationship with the man they’d sworn an oath to protect.

“Out with it, Just-Wren.”

Ferrin laughed, but the sound was shaky and nervous.

“What is it?”

“Orla’s Skalmagick changed color,”

I said.

“Right after she took the arrow, she made an explosion. Her fire was green at first, but then—”

I gulped as the color drained from Ferrin’s face, and his jaw went slack.

“Don’t say it,”

he breathed.

“Wren Warrender, don’t you dare say it.”

“Her magick was purple. Like Oren’s.”

Ferrin closed his mouth, and his throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. His gaze hardened, and while I’d expected some degree of shock, the cold anger that slipped over his face made me take a step back.

A heavy slam echoed through the room, and I spun around to see a woman standing at the wooden doors she’d just closed. Something about her dark hair, her heart-shaped face, and her warrior-style skirts seemed familiar.

I’d seen her before, I was sure of it. But where?

“Ferrin,”

she said, and the mental image of a woman dead at the feet of a Grimguard clicked in my head.

“If your niece is a Quill, we’ll have to kill her too.”

I reeled backwards at the woman’s words, backpedaling straight into Ferrin. He put his hands on my shoulders, and I looked up at him as he heaved a heavy, resolved sigh.

“So we will, Caitria. So we will.”