The lich nodded. “Tell me the rest. I’m sure there was a longer conversation, and there are bound to be clues hidden within it.”

  Will related what had happened, sharing his words with the dragon to the best of his memory, though he left out the parts regarding the lich’s potential vulnerabilities. When he finished, Grim Talek considered for a moment, then asked, “You didn’t talk to him about ways to kill me?”

  Their eyes locked, and Will considered lying. As intelligent as the ancient wizard was, the lich wasn’t a nearly infallible lie detector the way Lognion had been. He discarded the thought as pointless. “There was nothing new in what he told me.”

  Grim Talek smiled slowly. “You’re a bundle of contradictions, William. One minute I am convinced you’re too naïve to be of any use, then you turn around and show a cleverness I didn’t think you capable of. Why couldn’t you have shown this wisdom when you were answering the dragon?”

  Will’s eyes were clear, and he answered with complete honesty, “I don’t like games, and I find deception is often a waste of energy. At least you always know where you stand with me.”

  The lich’s lip curled into a cynical half-smile. “Do I? I’m very old, William. Time has taught me many lessons, and one of the most important is that honest men are the most dangerous. They lull you into a sense of false security, and when you think them incapable of deceit, they fool you when none of the world’s best liars could have managed it. Sincerity is the best veil for mendacity.”

  He shrugged. “That’s for you to worry about, not me. I’m more concerned about our plan. Lognion said he knows what we’re doing.”

  The lich nodded. “It’s fairly obvious what we have to do, so I’m not surprised he knows the what of our plan, but learning the how of it is more difficult, nor do I think he suspects the scale of it. I can make a few changes on this end, so that once you deliver the materials, he will only see what he expects. I’ve already anticipated the fact that he has plenty of eyes among us.”

  Will still felt unsure. “How can you be so certain?”

  “No one knows those things which I keep hidden, William, else I would have been extinguished long ago. That your mother is alive and he had no awareness of it should convince you of that. Nation by nation and war by war, I have driven my enemy from one fortress after another, until now he has no place left to hide. It’s clear which of us is superior at this game; I have only lacked the power to drive my blade into his heart.” Lifting an empty hand, the lich curled it around an invisible hilt. “With my guidance, your power will drive our retribution home and avenge the desecration of our world.”

  There was such passion in Grim Talek’s voice, and despite himself Will shivered as he saw a cold, hateful light appear in eyes that looked exactly like his own.

  ***

  Will finally encountered the road that led from Cerria to Branscombe, and skimming over it was simpler and consequently faster than being forced to regularly dodge trees and other mundane obstacles. Evie perched on the force disk in front of his feet, letting the wind flow over and around the lines of her now much smaller form. He felt better knowing she was there, though he still hadn’t decided how he would keep her out of things when he met with the demons. The Cath Bawlg had had a longstanding enmity with the creatures of hell, for they had destroyed the demigod’s home plane. Evie might not be aware of that, but Will worried that the goddamn cat’s grievance might be etched in her bones.

  Violence would be a surefire disaster if it ruined his proposal, but he wasn’t certain he didn’t welcome it. Sacrificing a nation for the metal they needed was evil yet pragmatic. If the only other option was letting the world burn, could he really refuse to do it? The Shimerans were demon-worshippers anyway, so if anyone deserved such a fate it had to be them.

  Thinking about it filled his stomach with acid. Not everyone was complicit, and even those who were had been raised into their beliefs by those who came before them. And what about the children? They’re innocent regardless of what their parents do. Will’s mind worried at the problem ceaselessly.

  Until a few days ago, he had quietly dreamed of sharing the awful secret with Selene. Knowing how smart she was, he’d secretly thought that if anyone could find an answer to his quandary, it would be her. Now he knew different. She had already guessed at his part in the plan. If she’d had a suggestion, she would have given it, but she had obviously resigned herself to him committing the lesser evil.

  Looking up at the sky, Will swore, “How the fuck can sacrificing millions be the lesser of anything?”

  The sound of distant thunder served as a reminder to keep his emotions under control. Will was still getting accustomed to his talents, and while he usually had to make a conscious effort to use them, his abilities were so natural that it was becoming obvious that a lot more was happening below the level of his conscious awareness. Deliberately harnessing the power of a storm seemed to require a substantial amount of turyn in order for him to bridge the gap and create a link to the turyn currents that drove the weather, and yet at moments like this, he somehow produced disturbances and lightning without an obvious link or intentional action.

  Doing so deliberately involved transmitting his will, exercising control over his personal turyn to affect the turyn around him—creating a chain of causality far beyond the limit of the energy he could manipulate directly. Using the talent intentionally took a toll on the ultimate resource of a wizard—his will—while unconscious effects seemed practically effortless. He supposed that made sense, as Arrogan’s training had focused mainly on giving him control of his body’s turyn, limiting what was produced at the source and replacing it with turyn from the environment. Will’s talents were a natural progression of that, extending his control far beyond traditional limits.

  In the distance, Will could see hints of smoke over the tree line. Branscombe was close. He brought the travel disk to a stop and stared blankly ahead; his mind filled with memories of his time in the army there, back when Darrow had just invaded Barrowden. He hadn’t had much power then, but he’d accomplished a lot anyway.

  Janice and Tiny had convinced him that isolating himself and discounting his friends’ help was a mistake, but a growing realization of potential made him aware that depression and sorrow had clouded his vision even further. “I’m a hell of a lot more powerful than I was back then,” he announced to no one in particular.

  Things began to click into place within his mind. There was a congruence point with the fae realm near Branscombe, and the trip to the mountain pass and the ley line intersection there would be a much shorter trip using the travel disk than it was back when he’d first walked it as a half-frozen refugee trying to reach the Terabinian army. He looked down at the cat sitting in front of his feet. “We have options.” He was seeing much more than the cat, though. In his head, Will saw Rimberlin House and his cousin Sammy, and beyond them he saw Tailtiu. More figures raced through his thoughts as he considered friends and family, allies and enemies.

  Evie looked up, meeting his distracted gaze. Sensing the change in mood, she meowed.

  Will agreed. “You’re right, fuck the demons.” A brisk wind sprang up, rushing over the land and chilling his cheeks and nose. It felt like hope.

  Demons, dragons, the fae, and even the elves, they’d all treated Hercynia as a passive resource, a plane to be exploited or abandoned—a place to be sold or discarded. Grim Talek had done his best, but failure had tainted the lich’s worldview. Will wouldn’t make the same error. He smiled, tasting the fresh air. “This is my home.”

  Pushing fresh turyn into the travel disk, he sped forward. There was much to do.

  Chapter 34

  The anti-possession spell was no longer something just for sleeping. Now that Will had confirmation that the dragon not only had an astral link with him, but also the ability to create gates, it was a requirement. He couldn’t afford to allow anyone the chance to track his movements.

  He stopped briefly in Branscombe to make arrangements for wagons and men to drive them. In the past, it might have taken much longer, both to get what he wanted and to convince others he could afford what he wanted, but those days were long gone. People in Branscombe knew him, and his station in Terabinian society was vastly improved. Those with the resources he needed took him at his word.

  Moving on, he stopped at the congruence point with the fae realm before seeking his final destination. Crossing over, he called the names of those he wanted and then sat down to wait.

  He didn’t wait long. Against his expectations, Aislinn appeared first, riding toward him on the back of a beast he had never seen before. Initially, Will thought it a horse, then changed his view to thinking it must be a buck, given the large horns, but as it drew close, he could see it was neither. The mount she rode was distinctly equine in form and proportions, though it had cloven hooves. Magnificent antlers adorned the animal’s head, but despite all his expectations when the creature opened its mouth, Will saw pointed incisors and long canines.

  His grandmother climbed down from the heights, for her mount was taller than most destriers, and stared at him with unreadable eyes. “William.”

  He returned the greeting. “Grandmother.”

  Her gaze lingered on his unadorned fingers. “Given your recent secretiveness, I didn’t expect to hear from you.”

  Will nodded, then looked down to inspect his nails. “You’ve taught me much, Grandmother, including that fact that it isn’t wise to overly indulge in sentiment and nostalgia.”

  She smiled. “My gift has fallen out of favor then?”

  “A question before terms have been given and agreed upon? Don’t expect me to give away answers for free, Grandmother.”

  Her laughter rang out with a pleasant musicality almost impossible for mortals to aspire to. “One hour, question for question, no hostilities until the time is done?”

  He shook his head in denial. “Not this time. I propose a test of wills, with the loser answering questions freely for one hour.”

  The ruler of the fae paused, one brow lifting in surprise, then replied, “No guarantee of neutrality after?”

  “Why bother? You came alone. If you can best me, it would be foolish for you to bargain away that advantage before we deal with other matters,” he answered.

  Aislinn’s lips parted, showing the tip of her tongue for a moment. “This is a significant risk, William. If you lose, I could take everything, including your life.”

  Holding up two fingers, he responded, “You owe me two unbound favors. One would be sufficient to save myself from you. I consider it a small risk.”

  She laughed again. “You’re trying to tempt me? Is this bravado, or do you actually expect to win? Are you trying to add to your wealth by wrangling more favors from me if you prove yourself the victor?”

  That surprised him. Will hadn’t intended to fight her with the goal of winning another favor, but he could see why she would assume so. His goal was more subtle. And she should have already guessed what I’m doing, he realized. Grim Talek’s words came back to him. “Honest men are the most dangerous.” He suppressed a laugh. Aislinn was underestimating him based on what she’d seen in the past, assuming his goals were straightforward.

  He answered with a truth that belied his greater reasons. “I just want to see who’s stronger.”

  “How would you like to perform this test?” she asked. “A magical brawl between us could have far-reaching effects without rules.”

  Will was learning more with each statement she made. She’s actually worried about the outcome. There was a practical element too, since either of them could potentially call in other resources to win the fight. Such things could prove costly or even waste resources that couldn’t be replaced.

  He had no intention of fighting her without rules or limitations, though. Even if things were held to just their personal abilities, a normal spell duel against the fae queen—also known as the goddess of magic—would be unwise. Aislinn possessed centuries of experience and an arsenal of spell knowledge that dwarfed his own. Such a battle would inevitably end in his defeat, and worse, it might not give him the information he wanted.

  “Your power in this place is unparalleled. I propose a simple test rather than a contest of resources. One of us creates a small spell, perhaps a ball of flame, and we compete for control. Whoever can fully claim ownership and press the flame against the other will be the winner,” he explained.

  As one of the fae, Aislinn’s soul wasn’t human—that part of her had died long ago. What had replaced it was a fake; her spirit was a fragment of the plane they were in. That was what made the fae immortal. Their bodies drew upon the energies of their realm to sustain and repair them. Unlike Will, who only possessed the turyn his body created and the turyn around him, Aislinn could draw upon practically limitless amounts of turyn while she was in the fae realm.

  His test would sidestep that, as well as the vast difference in their levels of skill and knowledge. It would focus purely on the strength of their respective wills, which was ultimately what he needed to know. That singular piece of data would tell him whether his plan for the demons was doomed to failure.

  Aislinn studied him for a moment. “You were strong the last time we met, but not strong enough. Do you think a year has transformed you? You only escaped last time because of the intervention of others.” She was referring to his battle against Madrok, when the fae had appeared unexpectedly, thanks to her gate and the secret beacon Aislinn had put in the ring she had given him. The current queen of the fae had crushed his will and trapped him with spell chains while the demon-lord had recovered.

  “That was a bitter betrayal,” he admitted, “but I’ve changed. Care to find out?”

  “Allow me to choose the spell and we have a deal. Your little flame sounds tedious and boring.” Lifting one hand, she created a tiny black orb above her palm. “This will make the contest more interesting.”

  Will hesitated, looking at the ominous sphere, which was roughly an inch in diameter. “I’m not familiar with that spell.”

  She flashed a wicked smile. “The spell was inspired by one of your grandfather’s students who unleashed a spell anomaly when first learning to express turyn.”

  He vaguely remembered Arrogan telling him a story about Valemon’s spell anomaly. The student who would later go on to found a religion and divide Darrow in a civil war had accidentally created a piece of uncontrolled magic that fed on whatever it touched, growing larger and more dangerous the more it destroyed. His grandfather had stopped the incipient disaster in its tracks, but he’d sounded uncertain about what might have happened if the chaotic magic had escaped his supervision. “What does it do?”

  “It’s similar to spells you’ve seen before that can disintegrate matter and eat through force effects, but far more precise and controlled. Anything that touches the sphere is destroyed, and unlike most magic, your personal resistance won’t serve as effective protection. If it touches your skin, wizard or not, it will destroy flesh,” she explained, her eyes lighting up with anticipation. “Unlike a simple flame, if you allow me to maintain control of this, I could burn a hole right through your chest.”

  Feeling his mouth go dry, Will answered, “That’s acceptable, so long as the contest stops when one of us admits defeat.”

  “Or dies,” she amended. “If you want to tempt me into this little wager, I need something significant to hope for.”

  He knew what she was implying. If her will proved insurmountable there was a chance he might crumble, giving her the ability to drive the deadly sphere through his heart before he could cry for mercy. Will’s death would nullify the two unbound favors she owed him, a much greater gain than simply forcing him to use up one favor to save himself from her if he lost in a less fatal manner. “You have a deal.”

  Aislinn held out the sphere, then took two steps back, leaving the deadly orb hovering in the air. “I’ve released my hold on the spell, so there shouldn’t be an unfair advantage. Let’s see if you can force me to yield.”

  “I’m ready.” He was standing roughly four feet away from the spell, and as he answered he stretched out with his will. There was no resistance at first, but the moment he started to claim the magic hovering in front of him another force took hold, and the formerly yielding turyn seemed to become hard and unrelenting like iron.

  The deadly magic began drifting toward him while Aislinn gave him some cautionary advice. “Be sure to admit defeat early, Grandson. Wait too long, and your words might not reach my ears before the orb pierces your heart.” The sphere inched closer, seeming to move faster with each passing second.

  Momentum and inertia had no actual meaning in a contest such as theirs, but it did have a psychological impact that could definitely influence a mage’s will. Seeing the sphere advance threatened to create cracks in Will’s psyche, places where the seeds of doubt could take root and grow. Will was no stranger to such things, however. Arrogan had derided him constantly, and since the day he had struck out on his own, he’d faced a never-ending series of opponents who sought to instill fear within him.

  Such an environment could only do one of two things to the person living in it. The recipient of such treatment either broke or emerged from the flames stronger than ever. Will didn’t like living in fear, and he’d long ago decided that the day he broke would be the day he died. The present moment was a perfect and very real example of that very thing.

  Curling his lip, Will twisted his body involuntarily as he reversed his efforts, pulling the orb toward himself. As it surged closer, his influence grew stronger, while Aislinn’s waned slightly. Shifting the orb’s course to one side, Will sent the orb spinning around him, then drove it back toward the queen of the fae.

  Aislinn’s eyes widened as the tactic caused her to falter, and the orb flew straight at her breast. Her brow furrowed faintly as she increased her concentration and eventually arrested the approaching sphere. It stopped half a foot from her skin, then began moving back toward the midpoint between them.