The Silver Pear (22 page)

The pain was immense. The spike Eric had driven into her burned where it touched, and with the last of her power, Kayla pulled it out and closed the wound.

She crouched, panting, and realized she was now facing back down the stronghold, toward the wall she’d brought down. Another two saplings pushed up from the ground as she watched.

Eric faced her, hand clenched close to the strap of his power store. “I had plans for you.”

Kayla gasped out a laugh. “I know you did.”

Eric’s face twisted at her amusement. “As there hasn’t been anything more from Nuen, I’m assuming you’ve killed him, or injured him enough for it to make no difference. So I’ll thank you for that, and—” An arrow struck him in the upper shoulder, and Eric stumbled back.

It was the same shoulder Rane had almost cut through, and while the force of the blow shuddered through him, he didn’t flinch. He had bespelled himself to feel no pain. It was the only thing that made sense.

Kayla looked left, saw Jasper standing with a small armed group of guards, one of them taking a new arrow out of a quiver.

“Your brother and I had a deal.” Eric straightened.

“And I just heard you thank Kayla for killing or injuring him. So the deal must be over.” Jasper gave a thin smile. “And I know how this works. You’ve been using up a lot of power, you’re weaker now, and I’d rather you didn’t kill Kayla of Gaynor and take anything from her, add anything of hers to your arsenal. If it’s between the two of you, I rather think the princess of Gaynor will be more reasonable than one of my brother’s biggest enemies.”

Eric ripped off another silver ball from his strap, and threw it just as two more arrows let loose.

One struck him in the chest, pinning his strap to his body, and the other lodged in his stomach.

There was no sound from Jasper and his men, just the thump of bodies hitting the ground, and Kayla forced herself to look.

They lay, still and dead, silver glistening in thin needles over every part of them.

She breathed in shallowly through her nose until she could swallow again.

Another sapling rose up, and behind it, three small trees grew to full height, in line with Nuen’s tower.

The shadow they cast had Eric turning, arrows bobbing as he moved without any sign of discomfort.

“You’re bringing in the Great Forest.” His words were hushed. “How are you bringing it in, when you’re here, fighting me?”

More wisps of wild magic were drifting to her, settling in her hair and along her arms, but it wouldn’t be enough if Eric threw his last silver ball at her.

He closed his hand around it. Threw. She used whatever she had left to not be there anymore, but she only had enough strength to move herself behind him, closer to where the Great Forest was forcing its way in.

Where she’d been, the ground looked as if a silver hedgehog was rising from the soil.

Eric spun in a circle, looking for her, and when he saw her, he gave a smile.

“That’s the best you can do, isn’t it? You’ve got nothing left.”

He hit her with a pounding magical blow that slammed into her and lifted her off the ground, tumbled her so she rolled twice before coming to a stop.

She would have smiled if she could have, because he’d just sent her even closer to where she wanted to be, but pain turned it into a grimace, and she could hardly draw in a breath.

He stepped closer, crouched down, so he could look her in the eye.

“I find myself strangely torn.” He was forced to use his good hand to balance himself, and he angled himself so he was staring straight into her face, then dipped his gaze to her arm, lying palm-up, where her shirt sleeve had pulled up a little. It caught his attention and held it. “I know I should kill you, but really, it would be such a waste.”

He leaned forward, grabbed her wrist and pushed up her sleeve. The look on his face as he took in the complex pattern of circles, some tiny, some bigger, swirling up in a spiral, the marks of wild magic, was greedy. “I made plans for so long, I hadn’t realized it would be so hard to let go of them. You have been nothing but trouble since I had your father put you on that glass hill.” The way he looked at her now was cold and gleeful. “You’d hate to be enslaved by me. I think you’d prefer death. And you’d be far more useful alive.” He straightened. “Yes. The idea has a great deal of appeal.”

Kayla remembered the poor creature she and Rane had saved from Eric’s dungeon. Remembered her crawling across the forest floor toward Eric on her stomach, crying with fear and helpless frustration as she did.

He wanted to turn Kayla into that.

And she refused to be turned.

As he rose, she grabbed a fistful of his tunic and held him down with her body weight, got hold of the arrow embedded in his stomach and pushed with all her strength.

The arrow didn’t move.

Eric shoved her away, but she’d already let go. He was wearing a thick leather vest underneath his clothes, and Kayla’s fingers had felt the sting of magic on it, too.

Eric’s eyes were cold when he looked at her again. “I’ll enjoy it when you’ll do anything to stop the pain, I’ll remember this, and enjoy every moment.” He bent to grab her again, to haul her up, and Rane was suddenly there, knife out, blade glowing.

He swung it and caught Eric in the side, and the magic in Eric’s vest sparked against it. It gave the sorcerer a moment to jump away, but Kayla thought the knife had broken the spell.

It was a knife that could cut through anything.

Eric danced back and Kayla turned to face him, forcing her body up on her side. She gasped at the pain from her ribs and Rane crouched beside her, hand soothing down her arm, along the dip in her waist to rest possessively on her hip.

“I thought you’d be out of things for some time.” Eric put a hand up to the strap on his chest. “But no matter.”

“I think it does matter.” Kayla pushed herself up, sucking in a breath as the pain from her ribs made lights dance in front of her eyes. Rane helped her, the muscles in his arms flexing as he lifted her gently and set her on her feet.

She ran a hand down his arm, squeezed, and took a step away from him, toward Eric.

“You’re coming to me?” The sorcerer frowned. “You can barely walk. What do you think you can do?” He pulled a tiny red stone from his chest strap.

She drew in another breath, arm coming around her abdomen in a reflexive move. Took one more step.

But as she crossed the boundary, as she felt the hot, rushing power racing to her in a boil of purple from behind Eric, he looked down.

Saw the sapling he’d trampled under his boot.

He looked into her eyes with dawning horror, and then her wild magic was there. Not racing to her, as she thought.

Enveloping Eric.

He started to scream, and high above, in the tower now surrounded by small saplings, it was echoed by the higher-pitched screams of Nuen.

She turned away, and found Rane was right behind her. Close enough to step straight into his arms.

H
er father had been right
. The screams would haunt her for the rest of her life.

Miri looked over to Ylana, lying against a tree, hand deep in the soil. “You knew she didn’t understand, didn’t you? That Kayla didn’t know how wild magic reacts to sorcerers.”

The witch turned her head, and there was nothing but exhaustion on her face. “It didn’t try to kill you.”

Miri glared at her. “I’m an exception. You knew that, too.”

The witch closed her eyes. Shrugged. “I knew. The wild magic told her it would cage them. Who was I to say that wasn’t what it planned to do? She has almost total control over it, it could have been true.”

Miri couldn’t resist, and dipped her own fingers into the dirt. “Doesn’t it worry you? That it lied to her.”

Ylana opened her eyes. “Yes. But what can I do about it? What can anyone, except Kayla?”

“You hate it, don’t you?” Perhaps because Ylana was spent, Miri could hear the bitterness clearly in the witch’s words.

Ylana gave a dry laugh. “This is my forest, befouled by the waste magic of the sorcerers. Of course I hate it. I’ve spent all my time these last few years trying to minimize what it’s doing to the Great Forest, picking up its magical treasures, trying to stop the sorcerers any way I can.”

“And Kayla? Do you hate her?”

The witch sighed. Shook her head.

They were quiet for a moment, and then Miri saw balls of wild magic were drifting back into the clearing. For one mad, terrifying moment, she thought it had heard them talking and panic gripped her.

She looked across at Ylana and found the witch was gone. In her place was a small bird. It took to the air, flitting to a branch, and then away.

She pulled her fingers from the soil, grabbed her staff, fear thrumming through her, but before she drew the crackle of sky magic, the rumble of Rane and Soren talking reached her, and then Sooty burst through the trees, kitten-wild, as if she’d been given a bag of catnip.

A sob caught in Miri’s throat, because the cat had tried to keep Eric off her, and Miri had thought she was dead. When she called her, though, Sooty raced back the way she’d come.

Rane appeared through the trees carrying Kayla, and Soren walked beside him, golden apple in his hand. Sooty darted around them, half-climbing trees and then somersaulting off to land on her feet.

Miri slumped back against the trunk, and steeled herself.

She’d made a mistake when she’d transported them all out of the stronghold. Panic had blanked her mind and she’d taken them to the hidden camp Soren had found for them.

It had taken her long minutes to find Ylana, grab the golden apple and race back to heal them both. She’d used all her power fighting off Eric and then getting them to safety, she’d had none left for healing, in the end, and she steeled herself now to meet Rane’s gaze as he gently set Kayla down beside her.

The look he’d given her when she’d run off for the apple and left them, legs broken, in a strange place, while Kayla fought for her life . . . she shuddered.

“I’m sorry.”

Rane knelt beside Kayla, hand tangled in her hair. “I know. I’m sorry, too. You got us out, you healed us. We would be dead without you.” He pushed Sooty’s head away, as the big cat bent to lick Kayla’s hand, purring loudly.

Miri let out a breath. “I meant to send us right here. I don’t know why we ended up at our camp.”

Kayla looked over at her. Struggled to sit up properly, hand rubbing up and down her ribs as if her mind was still getting used to her body being whole again. “In the heat of the moment, we go where we feel most safe. You took them to the safest place your heart knew. Don’t apologize for that.”

She closed her eyes in sudden, sweet relief and nodded.

“Where’s Ylana?” Rane asked, rubbing Sooty between the ears and then, as she fell onto her back, neck arched, just under her chin.

“She turned into a robin and flew away before you got back.” Miri said, and the sound Rane made in response was half-relieved, half-annoyed.

“What now?” Soren sat down beside her, stretching out his long legs, pressing them up against her own.

“Go back to Gaynor. Let my father know we’re safe from Eric. From the danger of a war.” Kayla lifted the silver pear from around her neck. “You’re the most powerful sorcerer left now, Mirabelle.”

Miri reached for it, hesitated, and then drew back her hand. “It should be yours.” She was still holding her staff, and she set it in her lap. “It feels right that you have a way to carry around a lot of wild magic when you’re out of the Great Forest.”

Kayla left her hand out, the silver gray of her gaze reflecting the silver of the pear. “Are you sure?”

Miri waited a beat. Shook her head. “No. I’ve never been without it, but not having it has . . . opened the way for other things. Using a staff feels right. And if your court is in need of a sorcerer, I can be near it. Use it if I need to?”

Kayla’s expression became thoughtful as she put the silver pear back around her neck. She looked over at Rane. “Perhaps it’s time to build a new castle in Gaynor. On the border of the Great Forest. And repeal Gaynor’s law on sorcerers.”

Rane stood, put out a hand, and pulled her to her feet. “Perhaps it is.”

They stood for a moment, arms locked around each other, Kayla’s head resting just under Rane’s chin. He kissed the top of her head, and turned to Soren.

“You coming with us?”

Soren caught Miri’s eye, desire and heat flashing before he looked back at his brother and shook his head. “We’ll leave you to deal with all the kings and liege lords of Middleland, and come along when the dust has settled a little.”

Rane laughed. “That sounds fair.”

Soren tossed the golden apple up, and Rane had to release Kayla to catch it.

“The golden apple and the silver pear.” Soren looked between his brother and the princess. “Aren’t you lucky?”

Rane dropped the golden apple into his pouch and took Kayla’s hand. “Luck had nothing to do with it.”

Miri watched them walk away, and breathed a sigh of relief when the wild magic drifted off after them. “And now?”

Soren lifted her off the ground and onto his lap, brushed his lips against her neck. “Rane might think luck has nothing to do with it, but I’ll take all the luck I can get.”

M
ichelle Diener writes
historical fiction and fantasy. From the Tudor court, to the streets of Regency London, and into magical landscapes, she's never happier than when she's building worlds and crafting suspenseful plots and unforgettable characters. 

Michelle was born in London, grew up in South Africa and currently lives in Australia with her husband and two children.

You can contact Michelle through her website or sign up to receive notification when she has a new book out at
www.michellediener.com
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