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Mzatal pulled me tightly to him. “Kara,” he said, the richness of that single word conveying his understanding of what I’d done—what we had done—on all levels.
Rhyzkahl cast a strike at us, and Mzatal deflected it as if it had been no more than a wiffleball. I drew more power from the grove, intaking breath at the ease with which it flowed into me, into us. I shared that power with Mzatal, offering him a deep reservoir to use as needed. I felt as much as saw the shimmering potency coalesce in Mzatal’s right hand.
He extended his hand before us, opening his fingers wide as he channeled power into a wall of interwoven green, gold, and purple strands of light, erected between us and Rhyzkahl. Breathing deeply, Mzatal exerted arcane pressure on the wall, pushing.
I smiled as Mzatal forced Rhyzkahl back a step, and I opened myself more to the grove, feeling the murmurs of its semi-sentience. Rhyzkahl’s gaze slid over me, and a ripple of sensation set my skin itching faintly, as though the sigil scars had goose bumps. The memory of the torture rose again, and I dove into the connection with the grove, immersing fully. Power flickered in sparkling green iridescence over my skin and through my being as I focused, added a layer to the arcane wall, and pushed with Mzatal.
Rhyzkahl fought to move against the dual force, face hard and determined, neck muscles and braced stance revealing the extreme physical effort that accompanied his resistance. Half-step by grueling half-step, he retreated into the tree tunnel, unable to stand fast in the face of our united effort.
“I will have you,” Rhyzkahl growled, the words carrying to us and the mountains beyond.
The threat speared me, igniting pure hatred like a fountain of flame from my gut to my head. “Never!” I shouted. The grove power scorched through me, welcome and unhindered. Mzatal channeled it into a devastating strike that lanced forth in a scintillating burst of green and gold. Rhyzkahl took the blast fully in the chest, and his strangled cry twisted with the sharp crack as it took him down.
I bared my teeth, feeling power like a vast, still sea respond to my deep need as he sprawled to his back. Now I had him at my control. I wasn’t the one writhing in pain this time. Power suffused me. I bore down on him with the grove energy, willing him to suffer. Willing him to die.
I leaned back against Mzatal, smiling as I watched Rhyzkahl struggle to shift from the supine position. Amkir stepped toward him, and I raised a barrier of shimmering grove potency between the two lords. Rhyzkahl was mine. I opened the floodgates to the sea of power and, through the grove awareness, I knew what Rhyzkahl felt: invisible pressure closing in on him, crushing, taking his breath. I tasted his first flickers of fear, and my smile widened. I dimly felt Mzatal telling me I had to release Rhyzkahl, but the song of the grove washed it aside, raw and wild and torrential. My breath came in shuddering gasps as power seared its way through me. Vahl sought to enter the tree tunnel, to reach the Tormenter, but I held the grove inviolate, allowing none to enter. No one would touch him but me.
I heard Mzatal shouting my name, but the words burned away as soon as they reached me. He shouted to Vahl, to Ilana, to Amkir, but my focus was on the vile sack of shit who even now could barely draw a breath.
A sudden resistance slid between the Tormenter and my power, blocking my vengeance. My eyes narrowed and I pushed harder.
Kara! Kara, you must let go!
Awareness hit me like a slap. The resistance was Mzatal as he fought to keep me from killing Rhyzkahl. No. He deserves to die!
Kara!
Mzatal called to me on all levels as he maintained the shield on Rhyzkahl. The loss of even one lord would throw all of the arcane perilously out of balance. Turek had shown me, and Mzatal sought to remind me now. Mzatal. I realized with horror that I was about to hurt him as well. Aghast, I hurriedly sought to disengage, but the power rushed through me in torrents, responding only sluggishly to my efforts. Mzatal swayed behind me, his arm locked across my chest. Rhyzkahl went still. Amkir stood in the tunnel beyond the fallen lord and my barrier, face flushed and anger palpable.
Vahl strode toward me, but I had no time to spare for him in my desperate bid to curtail the flow. His eyes narrowed, then he drew back his arm and slugged me hard.
White pain exploded in my face. The power dropped away from me like water from a burst balloon, and I sagged heavily in Mzatal’s grasp. As the world spun around me, I thought I heard Mzatal yell to Vahl to get Rhyzkahl out of our grove.
Our grove.
Mzatal went to his knees, breathing heavily and still holding me. “Kara?”
I groaned. Pain throbbed in my jaw, and everything dipped and tilted around me. “Here. Ugh.”
His hand came up to cradle my face, easing the worst of the throbbing and the spinning-world effect. “Rhyzkahl is gone.”
Somehow I managed a woozy smile. “And you’re here,” I slurred.
He looked down at me. “We are here.”
I gave him a radiant smile.
And then I passed the fuck out.
Chapter 37
I woke about a thousand years later, certain that someone had driven a truck through the bed and over me a few dozen times during the night.
Ilana chimed and stroked hair back from my face. I gave her a faintly puzzled smile, while I tried to remember why I ached from head to toe and why Ilana would be so close and attentive. “What happened?”
“Rhyzkahl sought you yesterday,” she said as she brushed her hand over my forehead.
Rhyzkahl. All of it flooded back to me. “We won,” I said.
