Angst Box Set 2 Read online

  Burning with Angst

  Book 4

  Prologue

  Location Unknown

  The bitter wind was furious, screaming in his ears as hard snow pelted his face. Hector stopped after taking only a few steps through the portal. This had to be wrong, and every instinct told him to go back. He turned around, pushing through knee-high snow. His muscles were already seizing from the cold, each step slower and slower. Tarness appeared—he was the last one through, and the portal began to collapse in on itself.

  “Go back,” Hector shouted, waving his arms.

  There was a noisy sizzle, like bacon frying, and a pop as the cloudy black circle that had delivered them here disappeared. Tarness glanced over his shoulder, grasping at several flickering lights, remnants of the portal that blew away in the storm. He faced Hector and shook his head in confirmation.

  “This is the worst rescue ever,” Rose cried, her fine red hair whipping across her pale cheeks. “Where are we?”

  “This isn’t Unsel?” Dallow asked, shielding his face from the winds with one hand.

  “Way too much winter to be Unsel,” Tarness said, wrapping his arms around Rose and Dallow, a wall against the storm.

  “I don’t understand,” Dallow said, huddling into Tarness. “Describe it to me.”

  “We’re in the middle of nowhere,” Rose said, her teeth chattering. “My healing can't keep us from becoming blocks of ice.”

  “A cliff,” Hector said. “We’re standing on the edge of a cliff. I don’t know how high up we are—the snowstorm’s clouding the bottom. I can’t see shelter from here, and it’s almost nighttime. It’s going to get colder.”

  “I hate the cold!” Rose proclaimed, rubbing her hands together and blowing on them.

  “It’s not that bad,” Tarness said with a big grin, his teeth bright against his dark face.

  “I need warmth, not smiles,” Rose snapped.

  “Everyone come close,” Dallow said through chattering teeth.

  “We’re all here,” Hector said, grasping arms with Tarness to close the huddle.

  Tarness patted Hector’s arms amiably.

  “No hugging,” Hector said sharply.

  Dallow’s eyes flashed white, and he muttered something to himself. The wind abruptly stopped, snow crashing against the outside of an invisible dome that circled them, the edge within arm’s reach.

  “Air shield?” Tarness asked.

  Dallow nodded, his face wrenched in concentration. The white glow from his eyes was bright beneath the kerchief around his face.

  “Nice!” Tarness acknowledged.

  “We need another portal,” Hector said, vigorously rubbing his arms. “We should be in Unsel. Angst needs us.”

  “I understand the concept,” Dallow grunted, strained by the effort of holding up the shield. “But I don’t have that kind of power. It would take a foci, probably more.”

  “More than a foci?” Tarness asked.

  “It’s old magic,” Dallow said, his hands now shaking. “I don’t think I have a chance...”

  “Neither do we, if you don’t try,” he said. Hector looked at his friends; they wouldn’t last long in this. Dallow and Rose were so thin, and she was so tiny, they were already affected by the freezing temperatures. Her lips were already blue. Tarness seemed to be holding up, steam rising from his body. Was magic protecting the large man from the storm? If so, how long could that possibly last? If this didn’t work, he needed a plan to keep them safe, even a bad plan, even one of Angst’s plans. This had to work.

  Dallow took several deep breaths, letting them out in measured sighs, as if preparing to lift a heavy weight. After a large gulp of air, he held out both arms and shouted, “Apenn!”

  The air shield shimmered, letting in a brief blast of cold and snow before protecting them once again. A slick sheen of sweat covered Dallow’s face, which was now haggard with exhaustion.

  Hector squinted, broaching the edge of the shield, trying his best to pierce the veil of the storm. Snow battering the barrier completely obstructed his view.

  “Nothing,” he finally said. “Can you try again?”

  “I’m sorry,” Dallow croaked, dropping to his knees. His hands shook with fatigue.

  The air shield collapsed, and cold wind instantly bit into their skin, rending out chunks of life. Rose pulled herself from Tarness’s protective arm to give Dallow a hug.

  “You tried,” she said, kissing his forehead. She glanced up. “What’s that?”

  “Describe it!” Dallow shouted over the wind.

  “Twenty yards away,” Hector said in his gravelly voice. “A rectangle of light in the middle of nothing, like a doorway, and it’s getting smaller.”

  “Did I do it?” Dallow asked hopefully. After a quiet moment, he shouted, “To the light...run!”

  Tarness picked Dallow and Rose up and plowed through the burgeoning snow. Hector leaped over mounds and was the first to arrive. Without hesitation, he dove into the light, landing on hard stone and rolling smoothly to one knee. He drew out a staff and surveyed the immediate area for danger. He was on a path, a well-lit stone walkway. It was warm; there was no wind, no storm. The entrance was getting smaller.

  “It’s safe,” Hector called out. “Hurry!”

  Dallow flew past Hector as if thrown, belly-flopping on the path and skidding to a stop. Rose soon followed, folding into a ball and rolling until she crashed into Dallow with a grunt. The doorway was already too small for their large friend. Tarness’s shoulder was lodged in one corner as he pushed against the opposite side, struggling to keep it open. He roared in frustration, and the closing slowed.

  “He can’t fit through,” Rose said franticly.

  “Tarness!” Hector sprinted to the rectangle. He skidded to a stop at the opening and jammed the staff in the doorway to help prop it open.

  The door stopped getting smaller, and Tarness pulled back. Hector faced away from a momentary gust of wind and snow that stopped when Tarness returned.

  “Hector,” Tarness said through the opening.

  They both eyed the staff that shuddered under the weight of the closing door.

  “Tarness.” This couldn’t be happening, he didn’t believe in the no-win scenario. He had lost men in hard-fought battles, but had always walked away victorious. Tarness was a close friend, not a soldier, and he didn’t know what to say.

  Tarness’ face looked pained. “Tell Angst thank you.”

  “What?” Hector asked incredulously. “No, don’t give up!”

  “Thank him for me, for the adventure,” Tarness said. “I’m glad he made me go.”

  The staff cracked, snapping in half as the opening closed with a thud. Hector took several shaky steps back. He dropped to his knees, frantically searching for a doorframe, eying every inch for a hinge or crack but could only feel smooth wall. He stood up and spun around, stomping to his blind friend.

  “Again!” Hector commanded, grabbing Dallow by the shoulder and lifting him up. “Open it again!”

  Dallow stood on shaky legs, nodding as he took deep breaths. His eyes flashed dimly as his brow furrowed. “Apenn!”

  Hector looked at the wall and waited. He could hear his own heavy breathing, and Rose’s teeth chattering. Long moments passed with no sign of the entrance.

  “Again!” Hector yelled.

  “Apenn!” Dallow said, the light in his eyes flickering.

  “Again!” Hector said.

  “Apenn!” Dallow rasped, collapsing to his knees.

  “It’s gone,” Rose said. “The entrance is gone, and so is Tarness.”

  1

  Unsel

  Heather was worried. Almost three months had passed, and Angst was still trapped. His face was frozen in
an intense look of determination. His gray hair was dark with sweat, his jaw was set, his mouth thin and angry. She’d seen him upset many times, but this was almost frightening. He was mad, and frustrated, and her heart went to him, in spite of it all. She was familiar with that look and could only imagine the effort it took to push his way through the spell that had practically frozen him in Victoria’s room.

  “He’s so close,” Wilfred said encouragingly. “This could be the day.”

  She looked at the short, wide man and smiled appreciatively. Angst’s old friend, a former advisor to Isabelle and Alloria, had taken on the considerable burden of leading Unsel while everyone waited. Despite great pressures to step aside for a successor, Wilfred had smartly brought order to Unsel, while dodging weak claims to the throne by miring them down in bureaucracy. Angst had chosen his friend wisely. Not only had Wilfred become a strong leader, he’d also been very supportive of Heather.

  “I could probably help,” Faeoris offered. “He’s almost here. I could just reach in and pull them through.”

  Heather hadn’t heard the Berfemmian come into the hallway. She glanced over her shoulder to see the young woman, who checked on Angst’s progress every day. His newest friend was tall, beautiful, and scantily clad. Heather really wanted to hate her, with her large dark eyes, over-full lips, and a body that was too thin to be that curvy. But, like almost everyone Angst was close to, Heather had become fond of her. She’d been a good friend in his absence.

  “That’s probably a bad idea,” Heather said, holding out a warning arm, as if that could possibly keep the strong Berfemmian back. “After what happened to Jaden, I think it’s best we wait.”

  Faeoris nodded in agreement even as the young woman’s thin brows furrowed in frustration.

  Heather turned her gaze back to Victoria’s room. It was like a portrait that changed day to day. According to Jintorich, the Meldusian ambassador, time had slowed in that room. Angst hung in the air, both legs poised as if running. One arm was wrapped around Jaden’s waist and the other around what seemed to be a woman wearing a blue dress. It looked like Angst had tackled them both, and dragged them along as he fought his way out of this room now lost in time. Two swords, two enormous magical foci, stood on their tips at both sides of the entrance, like soldiers guarding the doorway. After three long months, Angst had almost reached that door.

  It wasn’t the frozen room that upset everyone else, nor Angst making his way through it for what felt like forever. The nightmare was what he seemed to be running from. Victoria rested on her knees in the gorgeous white gown she would wear for her crowning as Queen of Unsel. Her hands gripped a golden triangular blade that had been jammed through her chest. Drops of blood hung in the air, dripping as slowly as time allowed in that room.

  “I’m sure it’s any moment now, Heather,” Wilfred said. “And then we’ll have some answers.”

  “Good,” she said gruffly. “Because I deserve some.”

  With a final thrust, Angst launched out of Victoria’s room. He gasped for breath and staggered into the hall. He tried to remember what had happened, his mind thick with the cobwebs of a fevered slumber. It was a nightmare that had muffled his hearing, clouded his vision, and made his body ache. He remembered only one thing very clearly.

  “Where is she?” Angst roared, his throat so dry it hurt.

  His arms were stiff and sore. He looked in surprise at two limp bodies pressed against each hip. He could barely remember grabbing even one on his way out and let them go. The bodies fell to the floor in unmoving heaps. They were unfamiliar to him and it was unclear if they even lived. It didn’t matter. Spinning about, Angst sought his foci. The giant swords, brothers, five feet tall and two feet wide, were just inside the entrance. They stood guard, keeping his princess safe. His spell only required one sword remain in the room. Angst needed the other, and reached forward.

  “Angst, no!” a woman cried. Was that Heather?

  Pain like fire and lightning raged through his veins as his arm crossed the threshold. The blade was just out of reach, and he let out a roar of anguish and frustration. Bracing one hand against the doorway, Angst leaned further into the room in until he wrapped his hand around the hilt of Chryslaenor. He pulled the giant sword, his giant sword, from the room like removing it from a sheath. The ringing in his ears made it hard to focus, and his arm was almost completely numb, but he had it. Angst faced everyone in the hallway.

  “Where is Alloria?” he growled. Lightning from the foci popped loudly, crawling up his arms and surrounding his chest. Its song rang in his mind, trying to tell him something, but he didn’t care.

  Heather stood before him, her eyes brimming with tears and two blankets rolled up in her arms. His friends Wilfred and Faeoris stood beside her, gawking slack-jawed at the two bodies that remained unmoving on the floor.

  “I...” Wilfred said, his tenor voice shaking.

  Their eyes were wide, staring at him as if he’d gone mad. Heather was speechless, her mouth open and bottom lip quivering. Faeoris looked ready to leap forward and hug him, or punch him in the mouth, or both. High-pitched cries clashed with the ringing in his ears. It didn’t make sense. They just stood there. Had they all gone crazy? Alloria would escape; he only had seconds to find her. He shook his head, trying to clear away the confusion.

  “Where is she?” he shouted.

  “I don’t know,” Wilfred stuttered. The short, chubby man quivered in fear.

  With a growl of fury, Angst tore away from them. He blurred through the castle, dodging soldiers, knocking over tables, scaring pages and maids. Doors were knocked off hinges or destroyed completely as he broke into each room. Slowing enough to see faces, Angst checked every single person he could find in the castle. It was taking too long; he drove harder, pushed faster.

  Guilt and pain pursued him with every lurch forward. Alloria couldn’t have gone far with Jormbrinder, and he needed that other half to save Tori. He ignored Chryslaenor’s song, begging him to stop, pleading that it was too late. How could it be too late? Alloria had stabbed his princess only seconds ago. A cook fainted, and everyone else in the kitchen stepped back in fear. Angst gasped for breath, the smell of food cramping his stomach. Nothing made sense. His mind raced to catch up as he fought through thick memories. Alloria had moved as fast as he could, like a blur between moments. Had the young woman bonded with Jormbrinder?

  Time was precious. Angst had looked everywhere inside. She must have left the castle, but she couldn’t have gone far. He ran as fast as he could to the entrance, weaving through corridors, whirling around people, only knocking over a few.

  “Shut up!” he shouted at Chryslaenor. The bells and horns of his foci were too loud, distracting him.

  A tempest of harrowing thoughts stormed through his head. His heart hurt to bursting for leaving Victoria trapped in that room within a hair’s width of death. Who were the two people he’d carried out? He didn’t even remember grabbing them. Heather had been upset. She’d been holding something. He would have to apologize, again. At least she was safe. He would get answers and give apologies once Alloria was stopped. He rushed out the front gates and skidded to a halt.

  The day was bright and sunny, and a cool, damp breeze brushed his cheek. It was warm, the air smelled fresh from rain, and there were new buds on a nearby tree. Winter’s snows were gone. This couldn’t be right. How could it be spring? The song from Chryslaenor quieted as realization sank in.

  “He’s being stupid,” Faeoris said, placing an arm around Heather as she tried comforting the woman. “He’s just confused.”

  “Why was he asking for Alloria?” Heather struggled, sobs sneaking out between breaths.

  Faeoris didn’t know what to say, and apparently neither did Wilfred. He looked on the verge of tears, apparently affected by Heather’s ability to infect others’ emotions with her own. He turned away from them, wiping his eyes before gently rolling the bodies over to lie more naturally.

  “They’
re both breathing,” he said, his voice catching. “Heather, please try to calm yourself. He’ll be back, and we can explain everything to him.”

  “He can explain everything to us,” Faeoris snapped.

  Heather nodded and pulled away from her. Faeoris wanted to hunt Angst down and make this right, but even she couldn’t keep up with the man. “I’ll knock some sense into him,” she swore under her breath, making Heather chuckle.

  “Thank you,” Heather said, taking deep breaths. “I’m sure you’re right, that he’s just confused.”

  “He shouldn’t wield magic that confuses him,” Faeoris said.

  “When he comes back,” Heather said, “give him a minute. There’s going to be a lot for him to absorb, and—”

  There was a rush of air, and Faeoris’s long hair brushed her cheeks as Angst blurred into the hallway. He faced away from them, staring into Victoria’s room, holding up a fist to the invisible barrier. The barrier sparked, but this time, he didn’t push through.

  “What is it, Angst?” Wilfred asked. “What happened?”

  “The princess and I were talking. Tori asked me if I would...” Angst stopped to take a deep breath. “Out of nowhere, it was there. Jormbrinder, a foci...through her chest. Alloria was standing behind her with the other half of the blade. There was blood, so much blood, and she ran away, fast, like I run with my foci. I wanted to pull the dagger free, I wanted to save her, but Dulgirgraut said I couldn’t, not without the other half. So I cast a spell. I cast the spell. I tried to relive the day again so I could save her, but something went wrong. I failed. I...” Angst’s head dropped, his loss and despair palpable.

  The room was breathlessly silent. Faeoris reached out to Angst. His hands trembled, and she couldn’t help wanting to comfort him. The beating could wait. She’d been angry at him for months, but this wasn’t the time. Before she could think of anything to say, there was a squawk, and then a cry from the blankets in Heather’s arms.