Master of Iron (Bladesmith #2)(107)

“Why?” Kymora says with a laugh. “I’m about to have everything I’ve ever wanted.”

“No,” I tell her. “You’re about to die. You’re about to die for nothing.”

Kymora sighs. “I’m weary of this. Let’s be done with it, Ziva.”

Yes. Let’s be done.

I stand completely still, yet inside, I’m a raging inferno of emotions. Grief, rage, desperation, anxiety—always anxiety. They pound against my skin as though trying to burst free. They beat against my skull, trying to force me to examine them, to become completely overwhelmed by them.

I look to the walls, where the coals have heated the base of the iron deposits.

“Move,” I say, channeling all that emotional energy into the metal surrounding the warlord.

The iron vibrates, sending fissures up along the walls. A few thick clumps break free, the heat from the coals the only thing allowing me to manipulate them.

“Ziva,” Kymora says, a hint of warning in her voice.

With my will alone, I send pieces of iron sailing toward her. Kymora raises Echo to fend them off. Rock crumbles against the shield hammer, rains uselessly to the ground. I break off more of the mountain, send it toward her with even more force.

Kymora tries to bat a particularly large piece back toward me, but I change its course midair, send it right back toward its intended target.

“Ziva!” the warlord shouts, her irritation showing. She bends at the knees to make herself smaller and charges with my hammer extended.

I send rocks at her feet, tripping her as Temra and I now continue into the mine. Kymora rolls once before jumping up onto her feet, as though she doesn’t feel an ounce of pain.

The air is sweltering. So much heat and very few places for it to go. It warms everything and anything caught in the path between the two lines of coal.

I feel for the magicked hammer in Kymora’s hand, tug at it gently with my magic.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” Kymora says, gripping it more tightly.

I need to draw more from myself.

The hazy image of my parents’ faces flashes into my mind. Kellyn’s smile. Temra laughing. Petrik determinedly reading a book for answers. These are the people I love most, the ones Kymora has threatened or already taken away from me.

I let my love for them burn through me as I fix my magic on the hammer once more.

Instead of pulling Echo toward me, I push it away, and Kymora jerks backward with it, her left arm at an odd angle, as she’s tugged by the hammer back toward the mine’s entrance.

I seize my chance, charging forward, Agony prepared to swing. Kymora releases her hold on the other hammer so she can grip my shoulder with her left hand, catch my hammer swing on her sword.

But what she hadn’t realized was that Agony had been absorbing every blow she’d taken on Echo. Every piece of iron pelting toward her. Building and building.

The force of it sends Kymora’s own sword swinging backward from it.

Right toward her neck.

Metal slices into flesh. Eyes widen in surprise.

Kymora tries to speak, but gasping air is all that makes its way through her throat.

“You had a chance,” I say. “Mercy is not extended a second time. This is for my parents.”

I step back, focus all my magic on the sword partly imbedded into her throat.

And I push.

Two separate bits of flesh hit the ground with sickening thuds.

I turn around and pull my sister into my arms before I weep.



* * *



I can’t make any sense of time as Temra tries to console me. She murmurs into my hair, strokes my back as I weep for Kellyn. Weep for my parents all over again. Weep for the soldiers lost in the fight.

“Ziva,” Temra says gently. “There is still work to do. Kymora’s men still hold everyone captive. You know what you have to do next.”

It doesn’t matter if Petrik is delusional, if he places too much faith in me. I have to try.

“All right.”

I sink to my knees, spread my hands along the nearest heated wall of rock. Tears and snot still drip down my face, my knees ache against the rough ground. But I ignore all of that.

I close my eyes, feel the metal that beats at the heart of this mountain, that slides just under its skin. Beneath the city. Around all of Lirasu.

It’s not difficult to imagine what I want the metal to do. It’s what I’ve always wanted. What I’ve strived for my entire life.

Safety.

I’ve always wanted to feel safe. To be rid of the fear I feel every time I step outdoors. Whenever I’m surrounded by people. It’s an internal struggle that no amount of magic could ever cure. But the physical and very overwhelming threats in the city can be dealt with.

So I pour that deepest and truest desire of mine into the iron, mix it with all the pain I’m already feeling. I put everything I am into the magic.

I feel a pulse of heat so strong that it sends me flailing onto my back, my eyes temporarily blinded by the white light.

When I can see again, I feel curiously empty inside.

No fear. No panic. No pain.

But also no joy. No triumph. No relief.

The magic took everything from me and put it into the iron.

The smoke in the mine becomes too thick for Temra and I to withstand much longer. Temra doesn’t speak, though she sheathes her shortsword and takes my hand. After retrieving Echo from Kymora, I slip both hammers back into my belt.