Cole thought about how Skye had been healed from her injuries when she removed her mask. He wondered if it could be the same for him. His injuries felt too deep to be healed. He was the cougar. Its body was his. But what if that wasn’t true? What if his body was somehow separate? What if removing the mask would let him rejoin the fight?
Raising his paw was agony. His shattered insides sawed against his nerves. His vision swam.
If he removed the mask, he would become vulnerable to the blank figments. How long before he became a deranged changeling like Skye? He had no desire to experience that fate. But all his instincts agreed that he was about to die from his injuries. And Morgassa was about to strike down Honor, who swayed as if the ground were heaving beneath her.
Part of Cole wanted to surrender to his injuries. His fatigue beckoned him to rest. What was he going to do? Get slashed again? It would be so easy to go limp and fade off to sleep. But the cost was too high. His friends needed him. He had to try!
Electric pain sizzled through his body as he dipped his head to his paw. Gripping tightly, he ripped off the mask.
The pain was gone. His mind was clear. He could still sense the power emanating from Morgassa. More important, he could now sense the power inside of himself. How had he missed it before? As he focused his attention on it, his power flared brighter. Cole drew the Jumping Sword and pushed his power into it. Ghostly flames engulfed the blade.
“Take your mask off!” Cole yelled at Jace, whose wolfish form lay still.
Morgassa swung at Honor, who blocked the blow with her sword but fell to the ground and lost hold of her weapon. As Morgassa prepared her finishing strike, Cole pointed his sword at her and shouted, “Away!”
He soared through the air, up toward the white helmet. It drew near before he had time to think, and his sword gonged against it. Kicking off her armored shoulder, Cole called the command again and landed some distance away.
Morgassa wheeled to face him, extending her sword in his direction. “How dare you!” she and her horde snarled together.
Blank figments streamed toward Cole. Before he could try to jump out of the way, they disappeared. The Rogue Knight was charging Morgassa, and he had just swung Verity.
“Cole!” Jace called.
Cole saw that his friend was no longer a wolf. The mask lay at his feet.
“Get your rope out,” Cole called, using his sword to jump over to Jace.
As Cole landed, Jace produced the golden strand. Cole touched it and forced his power into it. Lukewarm flames flickered along the rope.
The Rogue Knight met Morgassa fiercely, but she was faster and fresher. After their blades had connected several times, Morgassa dropped to one knee and slashed off both of his legs at the shins. The Rogue Knight fell heavily.
Honor had recovered her sword. Hobbling like a punch-drunk prizefighter, she stumbled into a brutal blow from Morgassa and collapsed beside the Rogue Knight.
Jace’s golden rope snaked forward, caught Morgassa by the boot, jerked her high into the air, then slammed her down with a sound like a tank falling off a skyscraper. Again Morgassa went into the air, and again she crashed down. By the third impact, her armor looked crushed.
Golden rope flexing, Jace heaved Morgassa upward again, but her armor suddenly disappeared. Once more she looked like a floating schoolteacher, though her face was scraped and bleeding. The rope no longer held her.
“What devilry is this?” Morgassa shrieked along with her horde. “Such shaping has no place here!”
As the golden rope reached for Morgassa, a sword appeared in her hand, and she batted the rope away. With her free hand, Morgassa summoned a large group of blank figments and sent them at Jace.
“Away!” Cole shouted, jumping sideways to avoid the swarm of blank semblances.
Jace retracted his golden rope to coil it and spring. To his horror, Cole saw that Jace wouldn’t get away in time.
And then Honor was on her feet, her armor gone, the knight mask discarded. With both hands, she clutched Verity. The sword seemed too large for her, but that didn’t stop her from swinging it.
The blank figments evaporated.
Using his rope, Jace jumped, ending up on the far side of Morgassa. Morgassa whirled to confront Honor.
Cole pointed his Jumping Sword at Morgassa’s head and shouted, “Away!”
As he rocketed into the air, Morgassa pivoted to face him, her sword ready. Cole knew there was no way to change his direction, so he tried to get ready to block her swing.
Two duplicates of Cole appeared, flying through the air toward Morgassa. Cole noticed that Dalton had set aside his bull mask. The power behind the seemings came from him.
Beyond Morgassa, Cole saw Jace’s rope stretch over to Honor, heaving her into the air and whipping her toward the hovering schoolteacher. As Cole rushed near, Morgassa swung. Cole met her blade with his, feeling the shock of impact throughout the bones and joints in his arms. He lost his grip of the hilt and the Jumping Sword spun away through the air.
Hitting Morgassa from behind, Honor jammed Verity through the center of her back. Sword protruding, arms raised, Morgassa dropped from the sky.
Cole fell too. Morgassa had been well above the hillside. With no chance of making another jump, it would be a rough landing.
With the ground rushing toward him, talons gripped his shoulders, significantly slowing his descent. It took Cole a moment to realize that Twitch had swept in to rescue him again.
Cole still hit the ground roughly, but it could have been much worse. As he turned to thank Twitch, Morgassa lurched forward and slapped the eagle away.
Coughing and gurgling, Morgassa’s face was locked in a desperate and fearsome grimace. The sword remained in her back. Her blouse was ruined. Her eyes bulged.
Lunging at Cole, Morgassa fell on top of him. Her long fingernails stabbed painfully into his sides as she spattered him with wet coughs. Cole struggled against her, but even without her armor and gigantic size, Morgassa was very strong.
A wrenching disorientation shook Cole to his core. Everything folded and twisted, as if he were being turned inside out, body and mind. He could feel Morgassa’s frightened, furious presence inside of him. Power coursed through him, obscene and spiteful.
Cole’s eyes were malfunctioning. He beheld swirling shades of darkness ranging from incredibly black to incomprehensibly black, voids within voids. He heard many voices screaming; an army of voices, hundreds of thousands. Not fun amusement-park screams—burning-building screams.
Reaching for his own power, Cole tried to resist Morgassa. But his ability to sense his power was lost in the stormy flood of her wrath.
And then Morgassa was torn from him. The golden rope yanked her into the air and thrust her down one last time. Verity tore loose. Morgassa lay limp.
CHAPTER
38
HONOR
Panting and sweating, Cole sat up, his vision clearing, as if a veil had been torn away. His ears rang with the ghosts of screams. All was silent now, right? He could feel the four burning wounds on each of his sides where her fingernails had entered him.
In all directions, Morgassa’s horde fell. The blank figments disappeared, and the changelings dropped as one, puppets with the strings cut, either dead or unconscious.
Honor approached Morgassa with Verity in her grasp, ready to strike. Morgassa looked different. She was now the height of an average woman, dressed in black, her features duller and less sculpted. Her injuries were no different. She was dead.
Cole shakily stood up. He felt detached from the moment. They had won, hadn’t they? That was good, wasn’t it? Twitch came to his side, no longer an eagle, his mask discarded.
“Are you all right?” Twitch asked.
“I don’t know,” Cole replied.
“What did she do to you?” Twitch asked, cro
uching to peer at the little gouges in Cole’s side.
“I’m not sure,” Cole said honestly. “It wasn’t fun. Thanks for catching me.”
“Thanks for helping take her down,” Twitch said.
“Okay,” Jace said, coming toward Cole, his golden rope now small again. “You get some points for that one. Good timing on finding your mojo. You okay?”
Cole rolled his shoulders experimentally. The cougar wounds were gone. His sides burned a little where Morgassa had marked him. Otherwise, physically, he wasn’t bad. Inside he felt oddly drained. Numb. He wanted to lie down in the dirt and go to sleep.
“Cole?” Jace asked again.
Cole realized he hadn’t answered. “I think so.”
“You saved the day,” Dalton said, coming up from behind to put an arm around Cole.
“Thanks for the help,” Cole said. “I noticed the illusions you made.”
“I had to do something,” Dalton replied. “I wish I could have helped more.”
“Maybe next time we’ll lend you a Jumping Sword,” Jace said, slapping Dalton on the shoulder.
Cole walked over and picked up his Jumping Sword. Spectral flames no longer flickered along the blade. Searching inside himself, Cole once again couldn’t sense his power. That couldn’t be right! He knew what to look for now. Concentrating, Cole dug deep and reached for his power, but still felt nothing. Was he just tired?
Honor and Mira stood near Callista’s fallen form. “Cole!” Honor called. “Callista wants to speak with you! Hurry!”
Despite his exhaustion, Cole rushed over to them. He heard Twitch, Dalton, and Jace following.
Still enormous, Callista lay on her back, her sword lodged in her torso. Her helmet had been removed, showing that her head was in scale with her enlarged body. Her intent eyes found Cole.
“She did it to you too,” Callista rasped.
“What?” Cole asked, but he knew.
Callista closed her eyes, swallowed, then opened them. “Morgassa worked some sort of changing on me. After she stabbed me. She disconnected me from my power. She didn’t steal it. Somehow she put me out of sync. She did the same to you.”
Cole nodded. “I felt it. Everything went black.”
“I thought so,” Callista said. “You touched her corrupted power—an endless hunger forever devouring itself. It was bad enough to glimpse. Imagine being her. The power had full control. We freed that woman from a terrible fate.”
“Can’t you reconnect to your power?” Mira asked. “Can’t you heal yourself with a changing?”
“Perhaps given more time,” Callista said, gasping. “It wouldn’t be easy. Morgassa did something unnatural to me. Something that surpasses my current knowledge of enchanting. The injuries I received are personal. Unlike the masks. I designed them to take away all that was part of the animal when removed. Including wounds. The dangers of the masks are never removing them, or dying before you do. I chose to cast aside my mask. It was blocking full access to my power. That meant facing Morgassa with less protection—as many of you risked at the end.”
“Search for it,” Mira encouraged her. “Find your power!”
“My power remains with me,” Callista said. “I can perceive it, if not access it. If only . . . No . . . I lack the time. These shapecrafters must be stopped! The woman who became Morgassa was one of them. She merged her art with Brady’s power. Honor, try to revive Skye. Like the other former changelings, she is sleeping, not dead.”
Honor hurried off.
Callista reached out a hand. “Cole.”
He put his hand in her large one. It made him feel tiny.
“I wish I could undo what Morgassa did to you,” Callista said. “You have a unique gift. You must find your way back to your power. Morgassa has made it difficult. But your power remains. And the five kingdoms need you.”
Supported by Honor, Skye shuffled over. She looked pale, her eyelids and lips a pasty gray.
Letting go of Cole, Callista reached out to Skye, who accepted her hand. For a moment, they regarded each other.
“I name you my successor,” Callista said solemnly. “After I pass, you will be Grand Shaper of Elloweer. I cannot seal the decision with my power. My abilities are currently beyond my reach, and my moments grow few. Go to Trillian. You should not fully trust him, but you need him. Learn from him. Elloweer needs you to become what only he can make you. Once he sees that I have named you my heir, he will teach you. Promise me you will go to him.”
Skye hesitated. Then she squared her shoulders and stood taller. “I promise.”
Callista dropped her hand and slumped back, flat. “All I have is yours,” Callista murmured. “Take care of them.” Her eyes closed, and her ragged breathing stopped.
Honor and Skye knelt close to Callista. Honor probed her neck. “She’s gone,” Honor said, bowing her head.
Skye looked weary and confused, like a young child awakened in the night. Sitting down, she stared dully at Callista’s oversize form.
Cole swallowed back a lump in his throat. He hadn’t even known Callista that long, but she had been nice to him, had helped him. She had been on their side and had fought bravely to protect them. Until coming to the Outskirts, the only person he’d ever known who had died had been a great-uncle who he could barely remember. Now there was Sultan, Callista—plus some kids he had known casually as a Sky Raider. Cole knew he would never get used to living in a place where people regularly got killed.
Turning, Cole saw that the remaining knights had gathered around their fallen captain. Minimus was with them, but three of the knights and several of the horses would not rise again. Their armor had seen better days. It looked like they had tumbled together down a rocky mountainside.
Minimus noticed Cole looking and waved a hand. “Honor, all of you, the Rogue Knight wants to speak with you.”
Cole glanced at Honor. She appeared uncertain.
“As he wishes,” Honor replied.
They walked over to where the Rogue Knight lay supine, armor scuffed and dented, legs gone just below the knees. He did not appear to be bleeding.
“You put Verity to good use,” the Rogue Knight said, his voice a bit tired but still hearty.
“It’s an extension of me,” Honor said. “I felt a strong connection. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” the Rogue Knight replied. “Though I would not be alive without you and your friends. You saved me and you saved Elloweer. No one else could have stopped her.”
Cole wondered whether the Rogue Knight realized his legs were missing. He considered pointing it out.
“It was a group effort,” Honor said. “Callista perished.”
“I feared so,” the Rogue Knight replied. “I lost three of my men. They are beyond all aid. I could repair the damage to myself and the others, but I do not intend to do so, except for Minimus.” The Rogue Knight waved a hand, and Minimus was once again in flawless armor.
“Why just him?” Honor asked.
The Rogue Knight sighed. “Where to begin? It was easy to imagine you spoiled, immature, undeserving. It was easy to tell myself that I wielded your power in the name of the greater good. But now I have witnessed your courage and nobility up close. Of course you are as extraordinary as your power—it originated within you. I should have known. The power that I wield rightfully belongs to you. Who can argue otherwise? I had no honor before your power came to me. I worked for the shapecrafters who created Morgassa. I accepted the power they offered. They wanted me to be their weapon. But the presence of your power opened my eyes and changed my nature. I am proud of who I have become. But if I attempt to withhold your power any longer, the man I have become will be lost.”
“Are you certain?” Minimus asked.
The Rogue Knight held up a hand to stay him. “Though it will reduce me to my former state, and strip my
knights of their stations, the honor that guides me demands that this young woman have her power back. I do not wish to walk the same path as Morgassa, claiming what does not belong to me. I may not have personally taken Honor’s abilities, but I collaborated with those who did, and if I now refuse to give up what belongs to her, I may as well have been the thief. My deepest apologies, Your Highness.”
“You have done much good,” Honor said. “Perhaps I should let you and your men keep my power for a season. I’m afraid that together, you wield it more effectively than I could alone.”
“At the moment, perhaps,” the Rogue Knight said. “But the power is yours. If I return it to you, it can continue to grow. One day, you will wield it with more might than any of us. And unlike us, you can stray beyond the Ellowine borders.”
“This is your decision?” Honor checked.
“It is,” the Rogue Knight said. “Phillip. Divide me in half just below the waist. This is my last command.”
Breastplate warped and scarred, the knight with the big battle-ax lumbered up to the Rogue Knight. Cole and Dalton shared a shocked glance. Was this an execution?
After raising the weapon high, Phillip paused. “Serving you has been our greatest honor.”
Cole looked away as the ax came down. He heard the impact. Unable to resist, he looked back and saw the bottom half of the Rogue Knight parted from the top.
Off to one side, Honor gasped. Eyes wide, she turned to Mira. “It’s back! I feel my power! It came in a rush. There were only hints before! It’s like it never left!”
Mira hugged her sister.
As Cole watched, the Rogue Knight’s armor dissipated, as did the full suits of armor of all the other knights besides Minimus. The knights lost stature. Some, like Oster and Desmond, wore other armor and gear underneath. Some were dressed in plain clothes. Several looked too old or frail to be warriors.
Nobody changed more than the Rogue Knight. Where the great knight had lain, a middle-aged dwarf sat up. He stood, slightly bowlegged, his stocky body barely more than three feet tall. He looked up at those around him.