The walls rose up to either side of me, cut sheer by a stream that had run this way since before trolls walked this world. At first, the rock was unadorned, but as I rounded the first bend, the carvings began. Princes and princesses, dukes and duchesses, their expressions austere and eerily similar to my own. Many of them I recognized, but as I drew closer, the elements had washed away all but the suggestions of faces. It didn’t matter: they were my family. All of them. And Angoulême had no right to be in this place.
The ravine snaked its way between the two mountains, abruptly opening into a wide circular space, with a third peak at its far side. At the center lay a small lake frozen solid, and all around rose statues of the kings and queens from before the Fall. Their eyes were set with glass that had once been filled with troll-fire, and it seemed they were all watching me, fixing me with silent scrutiny. The entire space hummed with magic, the ground coated with it and the air so thick with it that it seemed scarcely breathable.
But there was no sign of life.
Maybe he’s gone, a little voice whispered my head. Maybe you’re too late.
But I didn’t think I was. The tombs were the most defensible place on the Isle, and Angoulême could hide within them long enough for Roland and Lessa to arrive. Little did he know, we planned to be long gone by the time they got here. When I went up against my brother, it would be in a place of my choosing.
On my terms.
I walked up to the edge of the lake and stared across. Twin falls poured down the mountain’s face, and between them stood a door twice my height and carved of solid stone. It was closed.
I eyed the track of footprints and blood leading around the right half of the lake, then at the untouched snow around the left. With little tendrils of magic, I searched the statues for anyone who might be hidden behind their bulky stone shapes, and opened my senses to any troll of power who might be near, but it was impossible to tell when the air was teeming with so much latent magic.
Which was very likely their intent.
The shield encircling me was as strong as any I’d ever used, but it gave me little comfort. Angoulême was clever, and underestimating him might see me dead. I knew something would happen, but not what. And not when. And not where.
Exhaling softly, I stepped onto the frozen surface of the lake and began my way toward the door. I was about halfway across when I felt the surge of magic as it resolved toward its purpose. I started to run, but it was too late.
The lake exploded around me in liquid fire, and the world fell out from beneath me.
The weight of the magic shielding my body dragged me down into the depths of the lake, bubbles from the boiling water obscuring my vision as I descended further from the surface.
Clever bastard.
Lessening my shield enough for buoyancy to pull me back up put me at risk of cooking alive, and it left me vulnerable to whatever attacks Angoulême had planned for when I resurfaced.
I lashed out with ropes of magic, blindly aiming for one of the statues, but they slammed against a shield at the surface of the lake, the impact driving me further into the depths. I struck out again, harder, but I had no leverage, and the motion sent my sphere tumbling, disorienting me until it slammed against the lake bed. Bracing against the ground, I flung the full force of my power at the shield, destroying it with explosion that made the earth tremble.
My ropes of power swung through the air, searching for an anchor, but Angoulême knocked at them with his own power, preventing them from finding purchase. I fought blindly, earning a concussive blast each time the magics collided.
Louder.
While my ropes continued to flail above, I turned my attention to the rock beneath my feet, channeling heat into the earth until it glowed brilliant red, the water boiling and turning to steam in a violent blast. I launched out of the lake under the cover of the white cloud of mist, landing in a crouch on the edge of the now dry lake.
A whistling razor of power sank into my shield, then another and another, all coming from different directions. Pulling out my sword, I coated the steel with magic and listened, swinging hard, not just deflecting, but destroying the invisible weapons with explosions of silver sparks.
Then I turned on the door.
“Come out, come out,” I crooned, slipping strands of magic through the cracks to magnify my voice to a deafening level. Lifting a hand, I scratched my finger through the air, mimicking the magic I used to claw at the door. The sound was horrible, and with a smile, I repeated the gesture. Then I punched out with my fist, and a giant crack formed in the granite. Again, and a large piece split off, smashing as it hit the ground.