The young warrior looked back and saw Lissella dangling from one of the floating rock chunks still affected by his spell. What was she doing? he thought.
"Hold on!" he yelled.
Praz worked his way to where she was and, in another moment, he reached down and pulled her to safety.
Dodging rocks and shouting from the collapsing tunnel entrance, Alagar and Xarfax screamed for Praz to hurry.
Energy drained, cut and bruised everywhere, Praz leaped one more time with Lissella and landed in a roll near the tunnel ground. Breathing heavily, he got himself up as Alagar came out to take Lissella.
Xarfax grabbed Praz and together they ran into the darkened tunnels as the cave behind them crumbled to pieces.
Epilogue
Hours later, tired and worn, Praz stood on Crimson Raptor's flying deck and stared at the setting sun off the starboard bow. Sendark's troops had gone by the time they'd gotten back, and without the aid of the Mist they had a very long journey home.
Lissella had broken down when she found out about her father, but for some reason Praz simply didn't feel for her. Things had changed, that was for sure, but he had come to believe that the attraction he'd felt for her was only due to the Darkness he felt she somehow embraced.
"Praz," someone whispered.
Glancing down to the bow deck, Praz spotted Lissella gazing up at him.
"What do you want?" he asked, wondering why she was no longer in mourning over her father.
"I thought maybe you could use some company," she said.
"You look like hell, Lissella. You should get some rest."
"I can use some company, even if you can't," Lissella said, climbing next to him. "Alagar said I would find you here."
Praz nodded.
"Jarrell says he's not heading directly back to Soronne," Lissella said. "He's going to try to raise an army among the northern nations to stand against Sendark and the Sea of Mist."
"Then I'll wish him my best," Praz said, as he gazed at the dark, scudding clouds in the far distance.
"You're not coming?" Lissella said, sounding surprised.
Praz glanced at her for a moment, watching the way the wind caught her hair, remembering how much he'd wanted to run his hands through it once. Maybe some of that was still with him, but there were other concerns, other hungers, he wanted to satisfy first.
Behind Lissella, Jarrell and his first mate walked the deck. The surviving sailors and some of Xarfax's militia were up in the rigging hanging more sails and helping repair additional damage the undead ospreys had done. Noleta stood with Alagar by the ship's wheel on the stern castle.
"There's nothing for me in Soronne," he said, thinking of Bo, Telop, and River.
"You've got friends," Lissella protested, inching closer to him.
"No friends I'd care to see any time soon," Praz replied evenly.
Lissella pouted a little.
"Even me? Is it so easy to walk away from me, Praz?"
A small smile twisted Praz's lips. "Is that what I'm doing, Lissella? Walking away from you?"
Lissella's sapphire eyes held his gaze for a moment. "Yes."
In all the years that he had known her, it was the first time that Praz had ever felt disgust. He shifted his full attention to her.
"What were you doing following me out to that fountain?"
"I was coming to help you."
Praz stared at her with dead and accusing eyes. "You were going to help me against Man-del and Lenik?"
"Someone needed to."
"You couldn't even save River."
Scarlet touched Lissella's bruised face.
"I don't trust you, Lissella," Praz went on. "I don't believe you care for anything, and I think the reason I've been attracted to you is because we share a Darkness inside us that I can't hide. But I'm going to learn more about mine. And I'm going to change it."
Lissella's eyes narrowed as she regarded the young warrior.
"Is that so?" she asked. "Where will you be going?"
"I've received an invitation to join another school in the north."
"Really?" Lissella mused. "Where?"
Praz's eyes narrowed.
"Murlank," he said.
Her eyes opened slightly.
"What are you going to do there?" she asked tactfully.
"I'm going to learn," Praz answered, "about my past and on my own terms."
"It sounds like you could be taking a big risk."
"Maybe. But this time it's going to be my risk—no one else's."
Lissella was quiet for a moment. She had, of course, heard of Murlank. It was where all the darkest mages were trained. Almost impossible to get in. She had even once entertained the thought of going herself, and the idea of Praz leaving—leaving her—made her red with anger.
"Why you?" she asked softly. "I've never heard of anyone from the Six Shards being invited to Murlank before."
Praz said nothing.
Lissella turned her head and smiled, but her eyes were dark and envious. "If you think that's the right thing to do," she said, "then you should do it."
"I do," Praz said curtly, wishing she would just go away.
Actually, it was the only course of action he felt open to him. Everything that happened these past few days had served to push him out of Soronne entirely. Now, with Sendark indefinitely encamped at Soronne and the knowledge that people from another land were searching for him, he felt certain it was time to leave.
Lissella turned to go, then looked back over her shoulder, her hips provocatively posed. "You're going to miss me, Praz."
Praz looked away toward the sea without reply, and just before her waiting turned embarrassing, Lissella walked away.
When she was gone, Praz breathed out a long sigh.
She was right, he knew. He would miss her. Knowing it would be long days and nights before he got the image of that provocative pose out of his mind, he looked to the north again, and to the future that was now his to take.
Somewhere out there, Praz felt certain, that great destiny his mistress had always spoken of was soon to be his. For some reason, the Mist had shown him that and everything was now clear. The ties to his past were gone, and he knew that the mysteries of his life would all soon be answered in a dark and faraway keep known as Murlank.
Walking below to a darkened hold, Lord Sendark gazed upon the captured and bloated bodies of Mandel and Lenik, floating in the seawater-filled prison like two blood-filled ticks. Sendark was pleased.
The war on Soronne was keeping him in good favor with Necros, the young warrior known as Praz-El was alive, and best of all, he had two new additions to his zombie fleet—thanks to the orders he had given Maven.
Using his powers, Sendark had transported Mandel and Lenik away from the collapsing chamber even as they began their fall into the bottomless pit. Praz-El's interference with the fountain's transference had stifled them on the cusp of their arriving godhood, and now, fired by the Dark arts of the necromancer, they were well preserved in the magical seawater that contained them.
Sendark studied the bloated bodies floating in the tank. The seawater buoyed both men, and neither of them could do more than twitch their outsized arms and legs.
"Sendark,” Lenik garbled weakly from his watery prison. "Release us.”
Mandel tried to speak as well, but only cackling escaped his lips.
Sendark simply smiled.
From his studies of the fountains, he knew that he could have never taken their powers for himself, as demon magic would counter its effects. But now that the power was safely contained, he was already trying to uncover ways to transfer it to himself.
Confident they were well preserved, Sendark tapped goodbye on the glass and returned to the stern castle.
Sitting down at his table, he breathed a happy sigh and stabbed his finger into the fresh bowl of blood.
Now, he thought, the real fun begins.
Speaking clearly and distinctly, Sendark called out a single name: "Daria."
A few moments passed, but then a face of blood rose from the bowl. The face belonged to a dark-haired woman with powerful green eyes, and she looked, Sendark mused, just like the young man named Praz-El.
"Hello, Daria," Sendark said.
"How dare you contact me," Daria snapped. "I swore the last time we met that I would kill you if I ever saw you again. Are you trying to tempt fate, Sendark?"
"Of course not, my dear,” Sendark answered. "But it's been so long, and we have so much to discuss."
The woman's eyes turned to slits.
"I have nothing to discuss with you."
Sendark ignored her harsh words and pretended to yawn. "Oh, but you do," he said. "You see, I've only recently met a young man who I think you know very well."
"I wouldn't know anyone you know," she seethed.
"Really?" Sendark feigned surprise. "Let me see ... His name, I believe, is Praz-El."
Slowly, Daria's face went slack.
"It's an interesting name. Don't you think?" Sendark said. "One that you don't find very often. Especially with the demon surname."
"What do you want?" Daria whispered.
"You were a very bad girl," Sendark said. "Do you know how many people are looking for him? At first, I wasn't sure why, but then I remembered a rumor about a bastard child you once had, and then all the pieces started to fall into place. I'm still not sure why he's been hidden, or who his rightful father is, but rest assured I'll find out, and then, who knows, maybe, just maybe, you'll want to be friends again ..."
Distraught and confused, Daria prepared to answer, but just then Sendark waved his hand over the bloody face and broke the mystical connection.
So, he thought with a smile, Daria did have a child. And if the young man's power is any indication, the father can't be that hard to find.
All I have to do is find an angry god.
Leaning back in his chair, Sendark closed his eyes and smiled.
Yes, he thought, it's been a very good day indeed.