by Hylton, PT
Could it be she was wrong?
But no. This had to be it. This was the place she’d faced down Captain Tor. They’d fought on this wall to determine the fate of the city. There was no way Simon would recreate her other victories and not this one.
Maybe she was just early. Maybe he’d wait a week. Or a month. Or a year. Maybe she’d spend the next decade looking up at this wall, wondering when he’d finally make his move.
“Ah, there you are. I was so disappointed when you didn’t figure it out last night. Or the night before.”
The voice came from behind her. She spun and looked one way along the wall, and then the other. Both were empty.
He wasn’t on the wall, she realized. He was floating over the water.
His black hair and robe made him nearly invisible against the night sky. Only his pale face and bare arms gave him away.
“Good,” he said. “Now we can begin.”
Suddenly his hands burst into flames. He pumped his fist backward, and a ball of flames shot out. Not at Abbey, but at something far below.
She ran to the edge just in time to see one of the ships in the harbor burst into flames.
“No!” she yelled. “What are you doing?”
“I’m doing exactly what I told you I was going to do,” he said. “I’m teaching you a lesson.”
She drew her sword. “Come face me.”
“I don’t think so.” He drew back his fist again and another fireball flew.
Abbey cursed as another ship went up in a fiery blaze.
“I wonder if that was a stormship,” he mused. “By the way, how many ships do you think are in port down there? I know there are only a handful of stormships left, but if you count the fishing vessels and the trading ships there must be a few dozen, right? This could take a while.”
What she wouldn’t have given for a windy night! But air was still, and he was hovering a good twenty feet from the edge of the wall. If she got a running start and reduced her weight she might be able to make it, but it would be a close thing. And if she missed, there would be no one left to stop him.
Maybe if she could get him talking, she could distract him long enough to figure something out.
“We beat your army,” she started.
He looked at her and tilted his head, looking genuinely perplexed. “Oh, Abbey. Don’t you get it? That was the whole point.”
She gritted her teeth. “What are you talking about?”
“I told you I was going to destroy Holdgate and that you’d be powerless to stop me, right? Then I sent my armies after you, knowing that no matter the odds, you’d find some way to beat them. And you did! I was so proud of you.”
“You weren’t even there.”
He chuckled. “Of course I was. Just because I wasn’t fighting doesn’t mean I wasn’t watching. I must admit your friend Fannar surprised me. I sent the Stone Shaper, the Tall Grass Raider, the loud mouth, and him on a suicide mission. Eril was getting very restless, and I figured killing them would keep him distracted for another day or two. I never expected them to actually take control of the Barskall army! Very impressive.”
She considered her options. She could try throwing her sword at him, but the chances of it doing any real damage were slim. She could attempt to conjure a fireball of her own, but she had to assume he’d be pretty good at defending against her pathetic attempts at fire magic.
“I don’t think you appreciate how much work I’ve put into trying to help you,” he continued. “You ever wonder what happened to your old house? The one your father and mother lived in back in Arcadia? The one you were born in?” He paused a moment to see if she’d venture a guess. When she didn’t, he continued, “My father bought it. I was just a child at the time, but I begged him to do so. And he did. We left it exactly as was when you lived there, and we have had it cleaned every week so it’s as if you never left.”
Abbey shook her head in amazement. “Crazy doesn’t even begin to describe you.”
He shrugged. “Maybe. But guess what I found in that house? A letter your mother wrote you.”
She froze at that. Of all the crazy, lunatic things he had said, this one shocked her the most. “You’re lying.”
He held up a hand. “Don’t worry, I didn’t read it. I recognized your mother’s handwriting immediately. She used to leave me notes all the time before she left me. The letter’s waiting for you. I’ll take you to it when this is over. There’s just a little more work to do first.”
He threw another fireball, and another ship erupted in flames.
Abbey gazed down at the three flaming ships. Had there been people on them? Maybe they’d been sleeping, maybe just working late. Now they were dead, all because of this monster.
She decided in that moment that she was going to kill this man, no matter the cost.
“Do you understand now?” he asked. “Do you see the value of my words? You can destroy my army. You can break into my magic school and learn my secrets. You can save your friends. None of it matters. I told you I was going to destroy Holdgate, and I’m going to do just that. I don’t even need an army.”
He threw another fireball, but he didn’t aim this one at the boats. Instead, he shot it past Abbey, and it slammed into a building beyond the wall. A moment later the building was in flames.
“I’m going to finish up here,” he said, “and then we’re going to leave together. We’re going to be a family.”
Abbey wanted to cry out, to shout and swear at him, but instead she stayed perfectly still—because she’d noticed something. He was drifting closer to the wall. She waited just another moment, just until he was looking away, and she lunged.
His eyes widened as she began to move.
Didn’t expect that, you bastard, did you? she thought as she swung her sword.
At the last moment, he raised a hand and glided backward. Her sword missed him by inches.
She wasn’t done yet. He wanted to recreate her final fight with Tor? Fine, she could play that game. She reached out with her free hand, closed her eyes and cast, pulling on him with magic the same way she’d pulled on Tor during their final battle.
And nothing happened.
“Come on? Really?” He shook his head sadly. “That move wouldn’t have worked against me when I was ten. Your father must be a really pathetic teacher. No offense. I mean, my father’s not great either. He killed your mom, you know. Well, ordered her death. She knew too many of his little secrets.”
Abbey felt as if the ground had dropped out from under her. Could it be true? Had she been in the same room as the man who’d killed her mother and hadn’t known it?
“Don’t worry, I took care of him for you. After I left Kraken, I paid him one last visit. It was long overdue.”
He lazily shot another fireball at a ship below.
“Stop it!” she yelled. “I’m going to shove the next fireball you conjure down your throat.”
“That hardly seems likely. Besides, why do you care so much? It’s not like this city’s been that good to you.”
“You’re hurting innocent people. My friends are down there.”
“Your friends?” he scoffed. “You put far too much faith in your friends. They’re not worthy of you.”
She stepped toward him, shaking with rage now. “You’re wrong. It’s not about them being worthy of me. You claim you want to make me better, but my friends actually do. They make me want to be worthy of them.”
Suddenly a realization cut through the anger. Simon was much stronger than her in the ways of physical magic. He could burn down this city, and there would be nothing Abbey of Arcadia could do to stop him.
But Abbey of Holdgate? Now was a different story.
He stared at her, crazed love in his eyes. “I’m going to teach you—”
“No!” she shouted, cutting him off. “I’m going to teach you.”
She dashed forward and leaped as far as she could, reducing her weight as her feet left the wall.
Sim
on reacted, gliding backward even as she floated toward him. She was losing momentum fast, but she stretched out her arm as far as she could.
The tip of her finger brushed his robe. That was all the contact she needed.
She couldn’t increase his weight without also increasing her own, but that was okay. She shifted them both, making them much heavier. So heavy that they began to tumble out of the sky.
She had a good grip on his robe now, and she saw his eyes widen as he realized his power of flight could no longer hold up his suddenly massive weight.
“What are you doing?” he bellowed.
Abbey smiled. “I’m teaching you a lesson.”
Just before they crashed into the water, Abbey let go of Simon. She straightened and plunged feet-first into the sea.
Barely noticing the chill of the water, she surfaced and looked around, frantically searching for Simon. She saw him straining to tread water, looking dazed in the glow from nearby fires. Apparently he hadn’t landed as gracefully as she had.
She side-stroked towards him, sword between her arm and her chest.
He glared at her and his eyes went black. His hand came out of the water and burst into flame, but she’d already reached him. She hooked her arm around his elbow and dragged the hand into the water, extinguishing the flame.
She grabbed her sword but was too close to draw it back and stab him, so she slammed the hilt into his face. Blood streamed from his nose.
He let out a yelp and pushed her off. Abbey raised her sword, but before she could attack he shot upward into the air.
The bastard was trying to fly away!
She grabbed his leg and hugged it, hauling him down, but still he rose. Just before she lost her grip on him she increased both their weights, and they splashed back into the sea.
He let out a guttural scream of anger, and once again his right hand burst into flame.
Abbey decided she’d just about had it with magic.
She threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around him and got him in a bear hug, keeping his arms pinned to his sides and his hands in the water. She kicked furiously, struggling to keep her head above the surface.
“Abbey,” he said, choking out the words. “Think about—”
She slammed her forehead into his already injured nose, and he yelped in pain.
“Shut up!” she yelled. “I’m not your sister.” She headbutted him again. “I’m not your friend.” Another headbutt. “And I’m definitely not your student.”
She released his arms and pushed off him, putting two feet between them, and she drew back her sword.
A tiny smile appeared on his face as he lifted both hands out of the water. In a single motion, he raised them into the air, conjured fire around both hands, and swung them toward Abbey.
That was as far as he got before Abbey’s sword whooshed through the air and cut his throat.
The flames went out immediately, and he made a sick gurgling noise. Abbey swam to him, grabbing him by the shoulders.
“I’m a Holdgate stormship sailor. In the water I always win.”
Then she pushed him down and held him under. She felt him kick a few times before he stopped moving altogether.
She turned and swam to the Holdgate shore, dragging his body with her. The city was wide awake now, people scrambling to fight the fires in both the harbor and the building Simon had hit.
There would be damage, but the city would survive.
Abbey had done it. She’d beaten Simon. She’d saved Holdgate.
She allowed herself a moment to stare at the city, then she began to climb the rocks. They would need help fighting those fires. It was time to go back to work.
Epilogue
Arcadia - One month later
Abbey spent three minutes attempting to jimmy the lock on the door before frustration set in. She looked to her left, then to her right, and—seeing that the street was empty in both directions—she kicked open the door.
The moment she stepped into the house, an unexpected wave of nostalgia washed over her.
She’d thought maybe things in Arcadia would feel familiar. Granted, she’d only been three years old when she left and remembered almost none of it, but she’d still had a vague notion that the sights of the city would jar her memories. That hadn’t happened.
The hour she’d spent walking the streets had been odd. She’d felt like a stranger in a foreign city rather than a woman returning to her childhood home. She heard idle gossip, people talking about “Julianne” and “airship” and “the Boulevard,” but she didn’t really know what any of it meant.
But stepping inside this place—her childhood home—was different. It had instantly felt familiar. And while she didn’t have full memories, she did have flashes, images of things remembered. Her mother’s hair. The way the floor felt against her bare feet. The sounds of her parents laughing.
It was just as Simon had told her. He’d even kept the furniture the same. It was clean and free of dust, as if her mother had just walked out the door an hour ago to run to the butcher’s shop.
Part of her wished her father had come along. He could have told her stories, pointed out things that probably would have jarred more memories loose for her. At the same time, she understood why he had decided not to.
She walked over to the dresser at the end of the room and there it was, lying on the oak top. A yellowing, folded piece of parchment with her name written on the front of it in a confident hand. She stared at it for a long time, studying the swoop of the “A” and the way the bottom of the “Y” curved and crossed over itself.
She’d never seen her mother’s handwriting.
The letter wasn’t sealed, so there was no guarantee Simon hadn’t read it. Or the cleaning person. It may have been read dozens of times over the past sixteen years, but that didn’t matter. It had been written for her, and she was finally getting the chance to read it.
She picked up the parchment with shaky hands, and carefully unfolded it. Tears filled her eyes as she began to read.
Abbey,
You were born during a storm. Did you know that? It seems like the kind of thing your father might have forgotten to tell you. He’s not good with the details. Not those kinds of details, anyway.
That’s the thing I remember most about the night of your birth. Holding you in my arms for the first time while the rain pounded the roof and splattered against the windows.
I wanted to tell you everything about myself right then, everything I’d learned—much of it the hard way. But you wouldn’t have understood. It wasn’t the time.
If you’re reading this, it means I didn’t live long enough to explain it all to you. I’m very sorry about not being there for you as you grew up. I want to explain what I learned to you now.
When I was young, I ran away with a powerful man. It was exciting for a while. He taught me magic, and together we hunted for a man called “The Founder.” I could fill a book with the adventures we had in those early times. We weren’t lovers. He was more like a mentor to me.
Two things happened that made me change my mind about traveling with him. First, he had a child, one I helped him raise for a while. I started to see our adventures differently then. What had seemed wild and exciting at first started to feel dangerous and irresponsible.
The other thing that happened was that the man I was traveling with began to change. At first it was all about finding the Founder, and we often helped people we met along the way. Over time, he became more and more interested in punishing those he felt were unworthy of using magic.
I haven’t told your father about my travels. (Benjamin, if you’re reading this, I’m sorry for that. I hope you understand I was trying to protect you. If the man I traveled with thought you knew his secrets he’d have had you killed, and I won’t let that happen.)
As I look at you today, Abbey, you’re so young, but I can already see that you’re going to be mighty. I don’t know if you’re going to learn to use mag
ic like your father and me, or if your power will exhibit itself in other ways. But I can already see the power in your very personality.
And that’s why I need to tell you what I learned from my travels.
Power makes you hungry. Power wants to defend itself and grow more powerful, and that can often manifest in terrible ways.
It’s easy to be powerful and cruel. But to be powerful and kind? That is the rarest combination, and the most valuable.
You are going to become a powerful woman. I know that in my heart. So please remember. Use your power to help others, not to gather more power for yourself.
Be powerful and kind. It’s rare, but it is possible. If anyone can do it, it’s you.
All my love,
Mom
Abbey read the letter three times, tears running down her face. Then she folded it carefully and put it in her pouch.
She briefly considered searching the rest of the house. Maybe there was some other keepsake she could take to her father to remind him of his old home. Ultimately, she decided against it. Her father had taken all the items he felt were valuable on the night they fled Arcadia, and Abbey had the most valuable item—to her—tucked in her pouch.
She took one last look around the living room, then turned and walked out of her childhood home, leaving the broken door open behind her.
Then she took her leave of Arcadia. It might have been her birthplace, but it wasn’t her home.
She was the first mate of a stormship. She could cuss and fight as well as any sailor on Irth. She was so stubborn that she couldn’t be bribed, talked, or threatened out of a position once she dug her heels in.
In other words, she was a Holdgate girl through and through. She always had been.
And now it was time to go back to her stormship.
* * *
“So, just to be clear,” Olaf said, his voice skeptical, “we’re sailing off the edge of the map to some unknown land we think is filled with monsters because of a dream?”
“No one’s forcing you to come along, Olaf,” Dustin pointed out.
Abbey put her hands on her hips. “And it was more than one dream. There were like three of them.”
