Rise of the Dead Prince (45 page)

“Kuvali, wait!” shouted Meier. Kuvali let out terrible shriek and lifted the old man into the source column with her mind, holding him some ten feet from the ground and squarely in the middle of the light. Lovo screamed in pain. Kuvali recited the threnody she had written for the old man. It was a dark and bitter thing, both in tone and in voice. She pulled the smoldering ghost from the light and held him there suspended, the better to hear her w
ords.

“For uncounted years, through pain and through tears, in darkness and water,
you twisted my daughter!”
she chanted, screaming the last line with a wild fit of sobbing. Clawing free of the madness, she wen
t on.

“You cheated your grave, to live as a slave
…
You burned all my songs,
committed such wrongs
…
”
Kuvali craned her head to one side, watching as the ghost writhed from the words. Kuvali’s face turned somber and reso
lute.

“For all you debase, defile and efface, your condign reward, the song’s final chord. So what shall I do with
one such as you?”
Kuvali waited a moment, considering her own question. Lovo began to speak, but his first word transformed into a scream as she moved him suddenly back into the column. She held Lovo in place in the wellspring, watching coldly as he wri
thed.

“Kuvali, please!” shouted Meier. She took a moment to notice him. Once she did, she regarded him quite closely; and her tone, for once, was without
song.

“Look and you’ll find, if he still had his mind, it would be his wont, to burn in the font!” she said forcefully, even as the old ghost shrieked and slowly eroded. Meier looked at Lovo and considered Kuvali’s words. Seeing his conflicted expression, she pulled Lovo from the column. He went to speak again, but Kuvali turned her now ice blue stare to him with such intense severity that he was stricken dumb. She held her finger to her lips and let out a long, calculated, virulent,
“S
hhhh.”

Kuvali then spoke kindly, turning her gaze to Meier’s eyes and holding them there. “Diamonds and rust, we all turn to dust
…
,” she said calmly, glancing briefly at Lovo. Meier listened intently. “Wie tag bis abends,
everything
ends
…
and
end
here he
must,
by all that is
just,”
she said emphatically, as if seeking his approval. Meier thought
hard.

“Kuvali, what is the crueler fate?” he asked softly. She laughed maniacally in the face of her once merciless torturer. Kuvali began to slip. Just to look at him was more than she could s
tand.

“The cruelty would be, in setting him free
…
This world has no place, for his rotting
face!”
she said with authority. She threw him back into the light. Lovo’s shrieks were becoming more distant and ethereal. Meier winced, but Kuvali put her cold hand on his cheek.
“Meier, it is time, to know why I rhyme,”
she said to him alone.
“Now you must see, the story of we.”
The flood of images came in a second. That which had been revealed below was pieced together to make the whole picture, and it was a tragic picture indeed. Meier just nodded. He realized she was right. Perhaps it was justice. He admitted to himself that Lovo deserved far w
orse.

Kuvali’s expression changed. It almost looked kind. She pulled him out one last time. The hate had suddenly faded. “Lovo, in life you were twisted and vile. Your heart was so wicked and brimming with bile. So here we are now in the light of the source. What you would call murder,
I
call a divorce.”
With another push into the light, Kuvali ended the torture. The source did not intervene. Lovo fell apart before their eyes and went to wherever it was that people of his natur
e go.

Kuvali grabbed Meier’s hand, and he turned to face her. Her eyes said it all. With a light smile, she took his other hand, and squeezed. Something felt different. It took his mind a second to realize what it was. Looking down, Meier saw that his left hand was restored! The muscles and skin were completely healed. Was it the power of the source? He quickly realized that is was not. It had been Kuvali. Even then there was a glow of purple fire visible on his arm beneath the golden light. He went to thank her, but words escaped him. She put her hand on his chest, showing that she unders
tood.

Meanwhile, Suvira was stirring. She began to cough up the water of the pit. As she slowly regained consciousness, she looked around the hall blearily. When she saw Meier and Kuvali, she leapt into action. Meier felt the light of the source fading in him. What followed was a sudden power struggle between him and Suvira. Kuvali, seeing her daughter and Meier locked in combat, was momentarily stunned. She could clearly sense that Meier had no intent of harming Suvira, and that the opposite was also overwhelmingly true of her daughter. The problem was that their power levels were slowly switching places. Meier was weakening; and Suvira, fueled by her wrath and hate, was getting stronger. The explanation was simple. Meier had used up too much of his power saving her. It appeared that it was true that no one could stay overlong in the wellspring. The tables had tu
rned.

Suvira was on the verge of breaking through Meier’s defense. With her power so high, it would be over in an instant once his guard was down. Kuvali knew what must be done, but still she hesitated. It was her daughter! Then it hit her. She flew into action. Kuvali darted in front of her daughter, briefly taking the brunt of her attack. Kuvali did not fee
l it.

“Turn from this course, or be moved by force!” she said sternly. Suvira shrieked and poured her ire into her mother. Kuvali was beginning to feel it. The power of hate was too strong. “Wake from the trance
…
this is your last chance!”
Kuvali cried
out.

“I’ll kill you both!” screamed Suvira. Kuvali suddenly remembered something her brother had once said. With a sad smile, she became a blinding flash of speed. She reached through the pain that she was so used to and put her hand on her daughter’s chest. The change was immediate. Suvira fell and began to wail. With one hand on the back of her daughter’s neck and the other planted on her chest, Kuvali proceeded to take daughter’s magic from her. Suvira fought fiercely, but as night is to day, she stood no chance against Ku
vali.

The process took only a few seconds but seemed like an eternity. Meier stood in stunned silence. He was in absolute awe of the lady in white. Once the spell was over, there was a blinding light. It was Kuvali’s eyes. There were no longer violet. All that had been death and destruction in her had changed to brilliant white light, leaving the room with a beacon that rivaled the light of the source itself. She turned to face Meier, trying to control her power and quiet it. It was obvious from her cramping and winces that it was immensely diffi
cult.

“Kuvali,” he muttered, fully knowing that she would not be able to respond. A sharp wave of urgency hit him. The invasion! Who could stop it now that Suvira had been drained of her magic? He rushed forward into the source. The warm feeling surrounded him, but then his head began to ache. Fighting this growing pain, he reached out across the miles and looked for the hordes of dead. He found them! They were everywhere. He forced all his will into stopping them, desperately asking the source for guidance. Nothing happened. The pain in his head grew so great that he fell backward toward the stone floor. Kuvali blinked across the room and deftly caught him. She was smiling down at him, her eyes still pulsing with white l
ight.

“It’s more than you can force, the power of the source,” she said plainly. His heart raced. Surely he could do something! She read him perfectly. “Beautiful man, you can’t, but
I can,”
she said, squeezing his hand. His heart leapt in his chest. “See to my daughter, and I’ll stem the slaughter,” she said, gesturing to Su
vira.

With that, Kuvali rose through the floor for reasons beyond his ability to understand. The source was there before them. He silently wondered if he could do the trick of phasing through the stone as she had. Suvira woke up again, but now she was crying. The loss of her power had proven enough to render her insensate again. It was clear from the sound of her voice that she was aware of what had happened. But it was not the dark voice he heard. Meier got a sudden shock. Suvira’s face and hands had regained color! She suddenly screamed long and mournf
ully.

“Why is my heart beating?”
she shrieked, clawing at her chest. Meier rushed to her side, but she scooted backward on the floor in terror. “Don’t come any closer!” she yelled in his face. Meier held up his hands to calm her, but it was a fruitless gesture. Lacking any other plan of action, Suvira scurried into a corner and curled into a ball, crying desperately. Her power was gone. It had been her reason to exist. Meier could not help but feel sympathy, despite the terrible things she had done. This woman now seemed young and lost, where once she had been fearsome and aged beyond her years. Meier felt a rise of red in him, despite his distaste for it. It whispered of the
hundreds of thousands
she had murdered and turned into abominat
ions.

“She should die. Horribly.”
The voice was unmistakable. Meier felt the blessing of the source fading. It would not condone him, but it would not stop him either. He rose his newly regenerated hand to finish her. For all she had done, there could never be forgiveness.
“It should be slow,”
whispered the voice. Something stopped
him.

“No!” came a voice that resounded throughout the room. Meier looked to see who was there. He was alone. With a sigh, it dawned on him. The voice had been his own. He had been so lost in the trance that he had forgotten himself. Meier finally rememb
ered.

It was a promise he had made to the mother of the broken young woman before him. The words echoed in his head, and the darkness was
gone.

“Don’t worry, Kuvali
…
I won’t hurt her.”
The memory stabbed him. He had nearly broken a promise. Meier was many things, but never an oath breaker. The red light faded, leaving only a conflicted tempest in Meier’s chest. He floated back into the world of color. He looked at her again. She really was quite beautiful, but not just outwardly, despite her many crimes. He saw the innocent young girl, twisted by her father. What pain she felt then, he could scarcely ima
gine.

He thought of the pain of losing his parents, of losing his beloved brother, of the pain on every face he had seen. Valahia was a nation of mourners. More than this, they would soon all be dead. They had survived a plague, only to die terrible deaths at the hands of their reanimated families. It was all too horrendous. All he could do was to put his faith in the one last hope for them all. He waited with baited breath for the return of the lady in white. It was then that the power hit him. He felt a wave of terrible nausea. His head began to swim. Meier dropped to his knees, grabbing either side of his head as he
did.

“What
…
is happening?” he asked aloud but then promptly fai
nted.

Suvira saw Meier fall to the ground. Her head was wracked with the loss of the one thing she held dear. A rising hatred supplanted her grief. She began to crawl from the corner to where Meier lay near the middle of the chamber. Her mind was suddenly filled with a single thought. Her eyes grew wild. She closed the distance, still on her hands and knees. She reached Meier, and slithering in smooth movements like a serpent, she straddled his chest. Suvira looked at her long clawlike nails. If nothing else, she would tear out his throat, then gouge his eyes, then dig into his chest to remove his spark. Let him sleep through it all. The power of the source had rendered him into a near-death swoon. She knew only because it had done the same to her once before. With a smile, Suvira lunged with her spearlike hands toward either side of Meier’s
neck.

“I don’t think so, Missy,” said a strong, deep voice. Suvira’s eyes went
wide.

“It
ain’t
gonna happen,” said another voice, slightly higher than the last, but just as accented. Suvira screamed. Each of her murderous hands was being firmly held at the wrist, one on either side. Suvira struggled wildly. The grips did not lessen. Trent and Dor smiled at her and shook their heads. Together they took three steps, pulling her off Meier as she shrieked and kicked
out.

“
YOU
!”
she shrieked frantically, still thrashing. “I
DESTROYED
YOU
! Both of you!” she screamed, suddenly crying uncontrollably. Her tears were hot and clear. The men dragged her a fair distance then let her go. She began to dart toward Meier again, only to be blocked by the hunter and the farmer, who stood by with arms fo
lded.

“I reckon you ought to settle down, Suvira,” said Trent. Dor cocked his head to the side to speak to his friend, all the while keeping his hunter’s eye on Su
vira.

“It’s just like her mother told us. ’Course
…
I didn’t expect her to be so
…
agitated,” he said with a light chuckle. Suvira continued to scream at them in frenzied, bestial tones. She had been rendered utterly wild and completely in
sane.

“Count your lucky stars, young lady. We come here to kill you, you know. Still ain’t hard to imagine, given how much fuss you’re makin’” said Dor, his finger outstretched. Trent lau
ghed.

“Surely it would be inestimably quieter,” he said, flexing his jaw as if to pop his ears back into p
lace.