The Darkest Magic

  “I’m so sorry for your loss, princess,” Liana said gently, “but you must realize that what you’re asking for—what you think you want—it isn’t natural. And it isn’t right.”

  “Oh, isn’t it? And that is?” Cassia pointed at the sack Liana held. The top was open so that Alcander was visible from the nose up. He blinked.

  “Your Highness,” Al said, his voice muffled but earnest, “I seem to be an . . . anomaly.”

  “Not to get into unpleasant details,” Barnabas said, his voice strained, “and I certainly don’t mean to be flippant or unsavory, but Al was, um, freshly dead when he was resurrected. Your family . . . their souls have been separated from their physical forms for three years.”

  “I don’t care how long it’s been,” Cassia snapped. “Your son is powerful—the most powerful of all the witches. And I request—I demand—that he use his magic to bring my family back to me.”

  Barnabas shook his head. “No. I won’t risk it.”

  Her eyes flashed with anger. “You won’t?”

  “Apologies, princess, but Barnabas is fearful for my own soul,” Maddox explained, finally finding his voice. “The depth of my power . . . it’s vastly unknown, even to me.”

  “Then let’s find out how deep that power goes,” she persisted.

  Barnabas flicked a glance at Axel and Huck. “How do you feel about your young princess making this request? Do you see, as I do, how horribly troubling it is?”

  Axel stayed still, looking straight ahead and not meeting Barnabas’s glare, just as any well-trained guard would. “I support any command that Princess Cassia makes. And right now she commands that your son use his magic to bring her family back to life.”

  “If you do this for me,” Cassia said, her voice becoming more pitchy and desperate now, “I will do anything for you. I will go to the ends of the world to help you destroy Valoria or any other enemies you have. Please.”

  “Princess, I’m sorry, but I must agree with Barnabas,” Liana said, eyeing the corpses uneasily. “The magic that Maddox possesses . . . it’s rare. So incredibly rare and so very dangerous. To use it in this manner, on not one subject but three . . . that would be as detrimental to him as taking a mortal life. His soul will almost definitely darken, possibly to the point of no return.”

  “You say that it’s almost definite. But you don’t know for sure.” The princess turned to Maddox once again. “Maddox, I’m speaking to you. Only you. Don’t let these two answer for you. I know you understand what it’s like to lose someone you love so deeply that their absence hollows out a bottomless hole in your heart. I see it in your eyes.”

  “I do understand,” Maddox said. In fact, he woke up today with memories of Damaris strong in his mind, and he knew there would always be days like this. “I wanted to raise my mother from death. I appealed to Barnabas to let me. But after he put up such a strong fight, I knew that Barnabas was right. Not only would it damage my soul . . . there was no guarantee that she would have been the same as she was before. Not long before she was murdered, I accidentally raised a whole cemetery of skeletons, and that was . . .” He shook his head, grimacing to remember the horror he’d felt that day, doubled by the fact that he’d been the one to draw those creatures from their graves. “I—I cannot do this for you. Princess, please understand that what you’re asking for is impossible.”

  “I see,” she said quietly. “Then it seems we’ve reached an impasse.”

  “What do you mean by that, princess?” Barnabas said, his glare turning suspicious. “I trust that you’re not changing your mind about accompanying us south.”

  Cassia’s eyes flashed with anger. “I don’t care about the throne. I never have. All I want is my family back—getting revenge on the monster who did this would have only added a little sweetness to the situation. The only reason I would have gone with you to speak with that other monster would be to pay Valoria a little vengeful visit. But you refuse to help me, so I refuse to help you.”

  “Fine,” Barnabas spat out. “Liana, Maddox, let’s go. We cannot afford to waste any more time in this barren place.”

  “Good!” Cassia screamed, tears now streaking her cheeks. She picked up a vessel filled with dried flowers from the farm table and threw it at Barnabas, who deflected it with his forearm. “Leave and never come back! I hate you all!”

  They left the house of corpses immediately. Maddox found his steps were shaky, his legs weak.

  They were leaving behind so much grief in their wake. He felt horribly guilty for not being able to help her.

  “Do you both have everything you need from the tavern?” Barnabas asked.

  “Yes. There’s no need to return there,” Liana said tightly.

  “Are you sure this is a good idea?” Maddox said, glancing over his shoulder. The furious princess and her two soldiers had exited the home and were now standing in the middle of the road, staring after them. “Leaving without her? I could try to do as she wishes . . .”

  “Damn it, boy,” Barnabas growled. “Didn’t you hear me? I said no.”

  Maddox stopped, anger rising within him like a blazing sun. “I’m getting a little tired of you making all of my decisions for me.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh dear,” Al said. “Please, stop this fighting. It’s beginning to give me a rather severe headache.”

  “You mean to tell me you would risk your soul to raise the souls of people you’ve never even met?” Barnabas snapped.

  “It’s important to the princess. Those souls are important to the princess.”

  “The princess, I’m very sorry to say, has clearly been driven mad with grief. She’s unable to see reason.”

  “My magic is powerful, Barnabas. But I can control it. You’ve said so yourself.”

  Barnabas let out a sharp bark of a laugh. “Is that right? All of a sudden, young Maddox Corso can control his magic? This is news to me.”

  Maddox glared at him, outraged. He was tired of being treated like a silly, misbehaving child.

  Liana cleared her throat to get their attention. “Let’s leave this village before the princess changes her mind about letting us go freely and sends her men after us. Yes?”

  Barnabas scoffed. “A traveling band consisting of a witch and a witch-boy is intimidated by a little girl and her tribe of brainless muscle? How sad for us.”

  Liana narrowed her eyes at him. “There is no reason to lash out at me.”

  “Oh no? Tell me, Liana: Why haven’t we seen even a glimpse of your magic since the night we met? Not even a single flame to help start one of our campfires? I’m starting to think it wasn’t just your fortune-telling abilities that were a ruse. And all your stories about the immortals and their imaginary siblings . . . you’d make a better scribe than Al.”

  “I resent that,” Al huffed. “I am the greatest scribe in Mytica—and beyond. I was chosen as such by Her Radiance herself.”

  “Before she cut your head off!” Barnabas yelled right into Al’s face. Al flinched and squeezed his eyes shut fearfully. “I am traveling with a pack of fools! Enough of this. I will go to see Cleiona on my own. You all can find somewhere nice and safe to wait it out while I take care of this mess alone.”

  Barnabas turned away from them, only to be stopped in an instant by a wall of flames leaping up before his feet.

  “Still think it’s all a ruse?” Liana hissed.

  Maddox smiled at the incredible display. “Nicely done.”

  Liana raised an eyebrow. “Nice enough to burn the prideful attitude right out of your father, don’t you think?”

  Slowly, Barnabas turned to face them, a small, frozen smile on his lips. “Fair enough. Not a ruse.”

  Suddenly, as if cowering in response to Liana’s show of magic, the sunny village began to grow dark. They looked up to see storm clouds gathering above.

  Al furrowed his brow. “I have a funny feeling that there’s going to be—”

&nbs
p; Then, as if on cue, the skies opened up. Rain began falling in torrents, dousing Liana’s fire almost instantly.

  “A storm,” Al finished.

  Barnabas swore under his breath. “We can’t travel in this. We’ll have to take cover until it passes.”

  “Fine,” Liana said.

  But then Maddox interjected. “We? We need to take cover? I thought you were going on by yourself from here?”

  Barnabas sighed wearily. “Apologies for holding strongly to my beliefs about your magic and what it can do to you, Maddox. But what I saw when you raised Al . . . it unsettled me deeply.”

  Liana frowned and pushed her long wet hair back from her face. “What exactly did you see?”

  “His eyes.” Barnabas turned his worried face to her. “Maddox’s eyes. They went . . . black. Completely black. It was only for a moment, but I can’t begin to describe how chilling it was.”

  “What?” Maddox shook his head. “You never told me this. I didn’t feel anything happening to them at the time. I felt my magic, but it . . . it . . .”

  “It felt good,” Liana said, her gaze laced with deep worry.

  Maddox nodded.

  “You must never use your magic to raise someone again,” she warned. “And never, ever use it to kill anyone.”

  He regarded her and her deadly serious tone with confusion. “How can you be so certain about that?”

  “All that matters is that I am certain,” she replied immediately. “Please, promise me you’ll never use it again.”

  “I don’t mean to interrupt,” Alcander gasped. “But I think I may be drowning.”

  “Oh! Apologies, Al.” Liana adjusted his position in the sack so that he could breathe properly, and Al responded with a sighing smile of thanks.

  Maddox found himself staring at the head, his thoughts in turmoil.

  Here was Al: nothing more than a head that possessed no lungs, yet still he breathed life.

  A severed head that managed to live without a body.

  He had done this to Al. And it hadn’t even been that difficult.

  What was this strange magic of his? What were its limits? And if it was so bad, so dangerous and dark, then why did it feel so good whenever he used it?

  Suddenly, the earth began to rumble and shake violently, almost knocking Maddox off his feet. He shook his head and braced himself against the trembling.

  “What’s going on?” he shouted above the din.

  “Rain and an earthquake,” Barnabas said, then swore loudly. “Not good.”

  “We need to go,” Liana replied tightly. “Now.”

  They heard a shriek from somewhere in the road. Cassia. Maddox spun around. All of her men had run out to the princess and were now surrounding her in front of the house.

  He watched two new figures approach the huddle. Behind them followed what looked like an army of hundreds of men in red uniforms. As they walked, the rain parted like a stage curtain over their heads, keeping them dry.

  Maddox’s heart sank as he squinted to get a clear view. It was who he feared: Valoria, in a crimson gown with a long, flowing train, holding her arms out to her sides, her palms revealing the water and earth magic symbols blazing upon them. Her elemental magic swirled around her in fierce golden wisps.

  To her right walked Goran.

  Maddox clenched his fists. Immediately he felt his death magic rise within him, filling him with cool darkness and clear determination.

  “Don’t you dare,” Barnabas growled. “What did I just say to you?”

  “He needs to die. They both do.”

  “Agreed, but not at your hand. Not with your magic. Maddox, look at me. Damn it. Don’t make me do this.”

  Maddox ignored him. He had no choice: His focus could go nowhere except on the pair of murders closing in on Cassia and her men. This was his chance.

  Barnabas slapped him, hard, across his face.

  The pain stunned him. He turned to stare at his father with wide eyes. No one had hit him since Livius, who’d beaten him regularly to keep him fearful and obedient.

  He’d hated Livius right down to the marrow in his bones.

  “I’m sorry.” Barnabas’s voice was twisted with regret. “Really, I am. But I had to.”

  Maddox just stared at him as the ice-cold desire to destroy and kill began to melt away.

  “Don’t kill Barnabas,” Al yelped at Maddox. “He was only trying to help!”

  The serious plea made Maddox’s breath catch. Was that what it had looked like? That Maddox would kill Barnabas for striking him?

  A flash of the nightmare he’d had about Becca and his own reflection, his eyes black as night, tore through his mind.

  He took a shaky step backward. “I’m not going to kill him.”

  As his momentary bloodlust dissipated, he knew deep in his heart that he didn’t want to kill anyone.

  “Good. Then may I make a humble suggestion?” Al asked. “Run. Very fast!”

  “I agree,” Barnabas replied.

  At Liana’s nod, they turned and ran along the village street, already muddy with rain, toward a tree line marking the edge of the forest several hundred paces away. Other villagers had emerged from shops and cottages to see what was going on, peering through the rain.

  Something shiny fell from Barnabas’s pocket, and Barnabas immediately stopped dead in his tracks.

  “What are you doing?” Liana demanded from up ahead.

  “The ring! I can’t leave it behind.”

  Had Barnabas really kept that purple-stone ring in his pocket all this time? Maddox had all but forgotten it, but now all he could think was how foolish his father was to be so careless with an object he valued so much.

  “Hurry!” Maddox yelled as Barnabas snatched the silver chain off the ground.

  “They’ve spotted us!” Liana cried.

  Maddox whipped around to see that Valoria and Goran had shoved past Cassia and her men and were now in swift pursuit of his group. They were so close that Maddox could see the smile on Valoria’s face. As she strode swiftly toward them, she stretched out the hand bearing the earth symbol, and it began to glow. The ground started once more to shake, then it split open in front of him, creating a sizable chasm, reminding Maddox again of his terrible dream. With quick thinking all around, they leaped across the quickly widening expanse.

  From the opposite direction, a gust of wind rushed toward Valoria and Goran, picking up strength as it traveled. It hit the goddess and assassin with the force of a hurricane, blowing them back fifty feet before slamming them against the side of a stone building.

  “What the hell was that?” Barnabas shouted, loud enough to be heard over the howling wind.

  “No idea,” Maddox gasped, “but let’s not stick around and find out.”

  As they ran along the muddy road, Maddox was hit anew by how terrible he felt for having to leave Cassia behind. Still, while she might be mad, he could tell she was a survivor—he hoped she’d managed to escape during Valoria’s change of heart to go after Maddox instead.

  On and on they went, pushing their bodies so hard they could no longer speak, until they finally reached the edge where the village met the forest. But they didn’t stop there. They continued, outrunning the storm, Maddox’s lungs and legs screaming for relief, their clothes beginning to dry under the reawakening sun. Barnabas led the way in a winding path, purposefully inefficient so as to confuse anyone who tried to follow.

  Maddox ran until his legs screamed for mercy, until he couldn’t take another step. A creek trickled nearby, and he realized he was desperately thirsty.

  “Enough,” Maddox said, gasping. “I need to rest for at least a moment.”

  To Maddox’s surprise, Barnabas listened. He slowed to a stop, as did Liana behind him, and then turned around to Maddox. He bent over in a gesture of exhaustion, bracing himself with his hands on his knees. “I thought they had us, Maddox,” he choked out. “I thought that was it.”

  “It wasn’t,” M
addox said.

  “No, it wasn’t.” Barnabas lunged straight toward him and grabbed him in a tight embrace. “I’m sorry for striking you. I’m so sorry.”

  Maddox was so stunned by this unexpected embrace that he started to laugh. “I forgive you.”

  Barnabas leaned back and clasped Maddox’s face between his hands, his expression full of pain and relief. “I thought you’d try to kill them.”

  “I wanted to.”

  “But you didn’t.”

  “No.”

  “Good.” Barnabas nodded firmly. “That’s good.”

  Maddox shook his head, bemused. “And here I thought that was the goal.”

  “Not at such a steep price.”

  Liana watched them silently, a sweet but exhausted smile gracing her face, as she hugged Al’s sack against her chest.

  Barnabas glanced at her and sighed. “As for you . . . you are far more trouble for me than I predicted.”

  “Trouble for you?” she said indignantly, her smile turning into a fiery scowl. “What does that—?”

  Barnabas closed the distance between them in two steps, pulled Liana against him, and kissed her. She gasped with surprise against his lips—but she didn’t push him away.

  Maddox blinked. He hadn’t expected that.

  “Erm, excuse me?” Al gasped, currently squished tightly between their torsos. “Can’t . . . breathe . . . help!”

  Barnabas pulled away and looked at Liana, a certain darkness in his gaze that wasn’t there before. Al took several deep, desperate breaths as a shocked Liana stepped back and pressed her fingers to her lips.

  “Perhaps you also need to be slapped,” she managed.

  “Al was the one to suggest that we kiss, if you remember. He put the idea in my head. Blame him.”

  “Ah,” she said, nodding. “So that was all Al’s fault.”

  “Completely,” Barnabas said, smiling widely now.

  “Wait,” Al said. “You kissed her? I can’t see anything from in here!”

  Barnabas ignored him. “Now let’s keep moving. We’ll find horses, a wagon. If we make great haste, we’ll reach the palace of Her Goldenness in a day and a half. And now that we have those two on our tails, I’d say the hastier we move, the better.”