The Amulet Of Nicmir (The Scripts Of Neptune, Book 1)

Chapter 67

Karlon Corrigan was alive. Alive, and being used as a bargaining chip. Nelgin for Crynia's father. Lillian only pondered it for a second, and although it hurt, letting go of vengeance, the look on Crynia's face when she agreed to make the trade was worth it fifty times over. She'd lost too much, this girl who'd become one of them. If a man known for murder could indirectly restore a piece of her fragile heart, Lillian was more than willing to give him up. She knew what it was to lose a father. It wasn't a pain she'd wish on anyone.

The trade was made outside the city, away from their den, and only two Nemaru soldiers were allowed to go. Everyone else stayed put, hidden in basements in town and boathouses on the river and an ancient temple built to worship Ahio, god of the sky. Crynia paced the dim, dank basement until well after dark, kicking at the dust, sitting down against the wall beside Chad periodically, only to get back up and pace the same track again. Nyle and Lillian both drowned her out after a while, sitting on musty cots with clay mugs of hot tea, watching Kariana sketch out the castle on thin paper scarfed from a trash heap behind an architect's abode down the street. Lillian pushed herself to remember every line, every room, every door and guard post. This was it. Their last day before Sam's time was up. It was tomorrow or death.

Nyle's fingertips found her knuckles, and she opened her hand without looking away from the map, linking her fingers with his, palm to palm. He squeezed, as if he'd read her mind and knew she needed someone to hold onto, someone to remind her that she hadn't lost all she considered precious. That thought made her close her eyes and lean into him, borrowing strength from his grip and his warmth. There were so many memories woven between them, like strings, fond memories, messy memories, and some painful ones, too. Too many, almost, all tangled and knotted and hard to think about. Sam shared that with them, a patchwork piece that'd been stitched to both their hearts since childhood, a smile in the rain, a joke in the darkness. Even a week without him, worrying for him, had left a dent in them both. She didn't want to think what would happen if they lost him altogether.

They both looked up when the stairs creaked, and Crynia stopped her pacing. Lillian could've sworn she stopped breathing, too, as a man wrapped in a blanket limped down the steps. Hair that looked to have once been blond was a tangled mop atop his head, creeping along his face in the form of a thick beard and mustache. His big body sagged under its own weight, but his eyes, grey and tired, lit like a spark when they found Crynia across the room.

"Dad." It was choked, said through Crynia's fingers as she covered her mouth with her hand in a futile attempt to keep her composure. With a helpless sound that was half sob and half laugh, Crynia closed the distance and threw her arms around him.

Lillian smiled a little and turned back to the map as Karlon pulled away enough to take Crynia's face in his big hands and look at her. One man freed, the rest of the world to go.

***

Six hours. Six hours, and it would be time.

Chad's hands wouldn't stop shaking, and the words he'd been thinking for a week were a chant, echoing in his skull. I don't know what I'm doing, I don't know what I'm doing, I don't know what I'm doing. Craventi hadn't contacted him once since the desert. The scroll was a mystery. And Chad was such a sleep-deprived mess he doubted he'd even be able to walk after using his magic on Agnir.

Everything...everything was in pieces, and he didn't have the slightest clue how to put them all in their place. And the worst thing was, everyone else thought he had it all under control. That he was ready. That he was going to be some kind of hero, when the truth was he was scared, tired, and sick of the reassuring smiles everyone kept giving him. He was no hero. He was young, and still learning the basics of his own gift, and frightened half to death of what would happen when he came face-to-face with a man who'd reigned for two millennia.