Endless Knight (Darkling Mage 9)

“That’s not how it works,” I said. “The ritual will remove me from reality, sure – ”

Herald scoffed. “Yeah, cause that’s a better deal, isn’t it?”

I tugged at my own hair, my eyes shutting for the briefest second before I focused on Herald again, speaking carefully. “I’m going to be gone for years. That’s it. I’m not going to die.”

He shrugged. “Then I guess we can all just wait for you until we’re eighty and dying. There are other ways to do this. There must be.”

“This is the quickest,” I yelled, hating that I was raising my voice at him, hating how he flinched and staggered away from me. Then I added, with

my voice faltering: “This is the best option we have.”

“If you are quite finished,” Carver hissed. “I propose that you do not let personal feelings get in the way. The fate of the universe is at stake.”

I thought it surprising that he was so easily siding with me, for once, and I thought it fitting that his words could have been meant for any of the three of us.

Herald folded his arms and shook his head. Mason glared at him, his gaze flitting from Carver, to me, then back to Herald. It hit me just then. Mason was trying to be a friend, not just to me, but to the man I loved. My heart sank.

“Do it,” Herald said.

I looked down at my hand, flexing and unflexing my fingers. I was ready to go. Why weren’t they?

Mason stared me dead in the eye, then cursed under his breath. “You know what? Fine. It’s your funeral.”

I had never properly seen him use his power before. The weapons and armor he could summon from heaven’s stocks appeared almost instantly in his hands, as quickly as he could think of them. This time was different. Mason clasped his hands together in an almost prayerful way, his eyes firmly shut, but his eyeballs moving around under their lids, as if they were searching the darkness for something. As he worked his talent, the tattoos inscribed up and down his body glowed with a soft yellow light.

I thought I caught the faintest glimpse of golden radiance spilling from his back, from the crown of his head. It could just have been the emanations from the sigils on his skin, but for a moment it looked as if he had wings, and a halo. I blinked, and they were gone. I blinked again – and there it was.

Mason hadn’t been praying, not exactly. The thing that he claimed from the Vestments needed both his hands to hold steady, probably because of its length, and the fact that it was on fire.

“Oh,” Herald murmured. “Oh wow.”

I couldn’t see the look in his eyes, his glasses reflecting only the hallowed glow of the sword clasped in Mason’s shaking hands.

“Holy shit,” Mason stammered. “It worked.”

I looked at him, my brow furrowed, questioning. “What worked, exactly?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, his eyes hardening again, his voice serious once more, with none of the awe and wonder it held just seconds ago. As he held the sword out, the blaze running along its edge faded, then went out, leaving only a beautiful, gleaming golden blade. “Here. Take it.”

Again, like the others, I didn’t really have to handle the blade to truly claim it. The sword levitated towards me, the feel of its hilt familiar and comforting in my hand, its metal still warm from both Mason’s skin and the holy fire it bore.

For a moment I thought to ask Mason what the sword was called, but I suspected that he wouldn’t have been keen to give me an answer anyway. I nodded at him in silent thanks. Mason bit his tongue, his mouth in a flat line, but he nodded back firmly, just the once.

Carver grabbed me by the shoulder, pressing hard. “It is time, Dustin. Do what you must.” He gave me the smallest smile. “I will tell the others that you said goodbye.” I nodded back, wishing I could have set things right with Sterling. But that was how Sterling showed his friendship, anyway – through pigheaded stubbornness and tough love.

A hand brushed against my wrist, then locked fingers with my own. I looked up, surprised to see Herald standing so close to me.

“God, I hate you for this,” Herald said, his voice just above a murmur. He squeezed my hand.

“I know,” I said, fighting back tears. “I love you, too.”

Chapter 31

Carver nodded at me firmly, gripping me again by the shoulder. His eyes reflected the endless wave of spells the mages launched at the remaining Agatha Blacks. I was right about their dwindled numbers. The ten that remained were making up for their fallen sisters. The portal in the sky was still widening. We’d knocked down three of the pillars that held open the gate for the Eldest, but it had amounted to nothing.

“Now or never, Dustin,” Carver said softly.

I nodded. I squeezed Herald’s hand as hard as I could, then stepped away, working my backpack off of my shoulders. Then I laid it on the ground and spread my hands.