The Eidolons of Myrefall

by Sarah McCarthy

  “Hey! What are you doing?”

  “I believe you that you are not knowingly helping your father, Arabel. And I am sorry. But you have to understand, you are clearly part of your father’s plan. Once we have driven him away, then we will talk.”

  “Wait, sir,” David said, stepping forward, his eyes darting between Oswald and Arabel, but Oswald didn’t look at him.

  “You’re going to need every person you can get!” Arabel yelled. “And you don’t know him like I do.” She struggled, but Rody and Naomi were much stronger than she was, even if she hadn’t been exhausted. Tears of frustration came to her eyes. “I ran all night to get here,” she yelled down at Oswald, but he had turned back to the gates and was no longer listening.

  Once they were out of sight, Arabel stopped struggling. There was no point. She let them carry her towards the vault. They turned to the right and went down a few steps to a door in its side, just as Alistair came running up the steps from the practice field.

  “Arabel?” he said.

  Naomi pulled a door open and a wave of cold, dank air washed out.

  “Hullo, Alistair,” Arabel said limply. Rody dropped her legs and she waited while he scooped them back up again.

  “What are you—”

  “I just got back. I’m being arrested. Don’t let them talk to Cecil, will you? It’s just a bad idea.”

  “Hey,” Alistair said to Naomi. “What has she even done?”

  “Nothing. I haven’t done anything,” Arabel said.

  “Except your father’s the one camped out at our gates,” Naomi said, rolling her eyes.

  “That’s not her fault, though,” Alistair said.

  “Can’t take any chances.” Rody finished rearranging his grip on her legs, and they moved on. Alistair’s hands were clenched into fists, but he didn’t say anything more.

  They took her down some steps, to a dungeon with several aisles of empty cells.

  “Ah, so you have a people vault below the vault vault. Convenient,” she muttered.

  They deposited her in a cell, slamming the door shut. Naomi locked it and strode off. Rody eyed her guiltily.

  “Sorry about this.”

  “Then let me out.”

  He ran a hand over the back of his neck. “Don’t worry, we’ll take care of your father, then we’ll let you out.” He chewed the inside of his cheek. “Congrats on your Rite.”

  She glowered at his back as he left.

  When he was gone, she tried slipping through the door, but some hot, solid barrier prevented her from entering the Deep. She flopped onto the floor, lying on her back and staring up at the ceiling. Wonderful. She was so glad she had rushed back here to help her friends. What good friends they were, too. Really seeing her for who she was. Time passed; it was impossible to say how much. It felt like hours, or years. Arabel expected that at any moment her father would waltz in to gloat at her, having taken over the castle. No, that wasn’t right. He would never come into as dirty a place as this. No, he would send someone to gloat at her for him. Or summon her for some gloating in another location.

  There was a single barred window that looked out into the dank hallway. Arabel stuck her arm through the bars and felt around every inch of the wall outside, wondering if it was too much to hope that she’d come across a hook with the keys hanging on it. And then a way to get the keys into the lock from the outside. It turned out it was too much to ask.

  At long last a door banged open. Well, there it was. Her father had won. But it wasn’t one of her father’s soldiers. It was David. His face was tight.

  “Arabel?” he whispered. She stuck her face up to the bars.

  “David? What are you doing here?”

  He licked his lips and glanced over his shoulder.

  “Wait, is that a key?” Arabel asked.

  “Yep.” He bent over the lock.

  “What are you—I mean, it’s obvious, but—”

  The lock clicked and he straightened, pulling the door open.

  “I’m sorry. I was a jerk before.”

  “Umm…”

  “And I was wrong. You do care. You wouldn’t have come back otherwise.”

  “I mean, unless I was—”

  “You don’t have to say it. I know you’re not. And Oswald isn’t even giving you a chance to prove yourself. He’s doing exactly what he’s always telling me not to do.”

  “Imprison people?”

  “No, keep them from making their own choices.”

  “I mean, to be fair—and I can’t believe I’m saying this—but… keeping people from choosing to betray you doesn’t seem super bad. I mean, I’m against it in this in this case, obviously.”

  His grey eyes were soft. He swallowed as he ran his hand through his dark hair.

  “If I don’t let you out now, they’ll always suspect you. Naomi, Oswald, everyone. They’ll all think you were here as his spy. You’ll never be able to stay.”

  “Oh, so this is just about getting another guardian, is it?” It was easier to joke.

  “Of course not.” He looked at her reproachfully.

  “No, no. I know.” She stepped out through the open door. “Thanks.”

  “All right,” David said. “You can come keep watch on the east ramparts with me, if you want. I’ve got a good view of the army.” He paused. “Just don’t let anyone see you.”

  “Right. Do you know what Oswald’s plans are?”

  “He thinks he can control your father. Something about having one of his eidolons.”

  Arabel raised her eyebrows. “So, what, he’s just going to march out there and tell him to pack it up?”

  “No, he wants to see what he’ll do first.”

  Arabel groaned in frustration. “That’s probably exactly what he wants.” She thought fast. “No, you know what we should do? Let’s go out there and mess with him.”

  David’s eyes lit up. “What do you have in mind?”

  Arabel grinned. Suddenly a wave of dizziness washed over her, and she stumbled. David reached out a hand to help her, a look of concern on his face, but she shook it off.

  “I’m fine. Just… a lot of running last night.” She started up the stairs and he followed. “Let’s slip out the side, get around behind him, then see what’s there. Maybe he’s brought explosives.”

  They burst out into the snowy courtyard and were halfway across it when Arabel stumbled, another wave of dizziness washing over her. David bent over her, concern etched on his face. “Maybe you should sit down for a minute.”

  “I’m fine,” she muttered, waving him off, but a thick, heavy numbness was washing up through her. Sounds of fighting came from the north wall, so the fighting had begun after all, she thought dimly.

  She saw the dagger clipped to David’s belt, its plain silver handle bright in the sunshine. Her hand reached for it, but she snatched it back.

  “Arabel?” David asked, supporting her head as it lolled against her neck.

  Her mind was hazy; she felt like she was looking out at the world through a long dark tunnel. And that tunnel was focused on David’s dagger.

  “Run,” she managed to get out, but the look of confusion had barely registered on his face when she grabbed the dagger, slid it from its scabbard, and thrust it into his stomach. He grunted, falling back away from her, skidding into the snow, both hands gripping the hilt.

  Arabel ran.

  Some dim part of her mind wondered what was happening, but the rest of her simply obeyed. As if in a dream, she ran across the courtyard, down the steps to the main gate. She heard a shout as she approached. Reinforced, locked heavily, but not against someone coming from the inside. A surge of contempt hit her. Those idiots. She’d warned them there was someone on the inside. And they still hadn’t barricaded the doors. Or even had them watched. Oswald was a fool.

  She lifted the iron bar holding the gate locked and someone pulled it open from the other side. A soldier appeared, waving his hand over his shoulder. Men poured fro
m where they had lain hiding in the forest, and Arabel moved back as they jogged in, three abreast. The fighting on the north wall. A diversion, Arabel thought, in the small part of her mind where she sat watching.

  “Ah, daughter, so good to see you.” Cecil held his arms wide and embraced her, a knowing, triumphant look on his face. She tried to spit on him, but nothing came. Her body only hugged him back. “Father. Welcome,” she said, recoiling with internal revulsion.

  Behind him through the door came Elyrin, even paler and whiter than he’d been the last time she had seen him, and behind him a silver cage lit with blue light, a dragon thrashing inside it. It roared and beat its wings, but the cage glowed and flashed, containing its fury.

  Arabel took her place at her father’s side. The soldiers spilled up the steps, flowing around them. Someone must have seen, because as they arrived in the courtyard they were met with a contingent of guardians, led by Naomi. Where was Oswald? Had he run, like he’d been afraid he would?

  “You fucking traitor,” Naomi said when she saw Arabel. “I knew it.” She lunged for Cecil, but Elyrin stepped forward, lifting his hands, and she was thrown backwards. Silver, glowing bars sprang up, keeping the guardians back, making a path straight for the vault door. Down this, Arabel and her father walked. She saw Avery to the left, her eyes wide with shock.

  No, please, it’s not me, Arabel thought. Please don’t think this is me.

  Oswald emerged, limping, from the stairs to the practice field; when he caught sight of Arabel his eyes were sad. A bloody gash on his forehead leaked onto his collar as he waved the guardians back, striding forward to the silver walls. He lifted his hands and a bright purple light flared. He passed between them, so that he stood blocking their path to the vault.

  “Cecil.” His hands rested at his sides, blood running down his face.

  “You have something that belongs to me, old man,” her father said.

  “And you have two things that belong to me. Or at the very least do not belong to you,” Oswald said, his eyes resting on Arabel. “I am sorry, Arabel. I know my lack of trust hurt you. He has been possessing you somehow. I couldn’t let him know that I knew.” So that was why she’d kept missing blocks of time. He looked at Cecil. “It is time for you and your men to go.” Oswald lifted his hands again. A red light glowed from his chest, and a bright gold thread appeared, linking him with Cecil, who smiled thinly.

  “You think that will work, old man? You think that piece of my soul is strong enough to control me? That piece is my weakness, that’s why I cast it out.”

  “We shall see,” Oswald said. “And then you are going to tell me where you’ve taken your wife.”

  Power slammed into Cecil, knocking him backwards. Red light flared within him. Glowing tendrils, like tentacles, wrapped around him. He thrashed at them with his hands, jerking and flailing, but they held him tight.

  “Where is she?” Oswald said, advancing, limping towards the prone figure in the snow. Her father’s bare hands clenched, gripping handfuls of ice, and he closed his eyes.

  “You… shouldn’t…”

  Oswald was only a foot away now, and Cecil’s eyes snapped open; he reached out his hands, wrapping them around the golden thread. The red light glowing in Oswald uncoiled, extending its many legs. The spider lunged upwards, wrapping its legs around the purple light beating in Oswald’s chest. It sank its fangs into the light.

  Cecil yanked on the golden thread, and most of Oswald’s soul was ripped from his body. He crumpled to the ground, giving a last, surprised gasp and closing his eyes. Naomi gave an agonized scream. The spider pulled Oswald’s soul further into the embrace of its arms, sucking the power from it. Cecil pulled it towards him just as the last of the light faded. Elyrin rushed forward, the soldiers carrying the cage with the dragon right behind him. In an instant, the spider was in the cage alongside the dragon, scuttling along the walls, being thrown back from the bars with sparks of power shooting off in all directions.

  Cecil calmly stepped over Oswald’s broken body.

  Against her will, Arabel followed. No, she thought to herself. No. I won’t do this. I won’t help. There was a sword, right there at his side. She begged her arms to reach for it, to wrap her fingers around its hilt and drive it into her father’s back. She’d just seen him rip out an old man’s soul. He’d held her mother prisoner for almost her entire life. And now he was going to hurt the people who mattered most to her. Her family.

  She saw Moira, standing close to the walls, holding a meat cleaver. Her eyes narrowed in contempt and she spat on the ground as Arabel passed. It wasn’t me. At Moira’s side, gentle Walt stood, gleaming sword raised, his eyes darting from Cecil to Arabel. The disgust in his eyes stung. They don’t understand. It’s OK. They just don’t understand.

  Her father and Elyrin stopped in front of the door to the vault. The dragon roared and snapped at Arabel as she passed its cage. She was going to open the door to the vault. She placed her palm on it as she had before.

  “Sir, it won’t work. It didn’t work before,” Elyrin said in a reedy voice.

  “Quiet, Elyrin. Perhaps we only need to be closer. Perhaps the connection was not strong enough before,” her father said. “We know she can open it.”

  Arabel couldn’t feel the presence she had felt before. The love. Whatever it was that had spoken to her, it wasn’t here. This wasn’t going to work. Good. She redoubled her efforts to regain control.

  Several long moments passed, during which her father waited, and her body tried to open the door.

  “All right, Elyrin,” her father said. “Why isn’t it working?”

  “She needs to do it, sir, I believe.”

  “She is doing it.”

  “No, it’s… I believe your… wife… put something of herself in this door. Something that will only answer to Arabel’s soul.”

  “So, make her soul do it,” her father said smoothly.

  “That is beyond my power. It must be given over willingly.”

  Her father contemplated this. “Very well. Release her for a moment. If she moves,” he added, “take control again immediately.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The numbness vanished, and the horror roared up into her. She whipped around, lunging for his throat, but in an instant she was no longer in control.

  “Arabel,” her father said, shaking his head. “Don’t tell me I raised a fool. Elyrin is not going to allow you to murder me. So hold still while I make you an offer. Nod if you agree.”

  She nodded, completely against her will, and Cecil laughed. “If you care about your mother, you will listen. Because I have another way to open this door. You just happen to be the most convenient.”

  The numbness faded. Arabel was in control again, but she didn’t move. “What?”

  “That’s better. As I said, there are two ways to open this door that your mother made. The first is that you oblige and open it for me. The second—and I would really prefer not to do this—is to kill your mother.”

  He paused to let this sink in and smiled when he saw his words were having the desired effect.

  “Yes. Because, in addition to the various locks on this door, your mother put part of herself here. It opens only to those she approves of. One of those being you. However, if I kill her, and rest assured that will be very easy, her soul will leave this door, rejoining the rest of her as she leaves for the deepest part of the underworld.” From the pocket of his tunic, her father pulled a glowing blue stone on a chain. “This stone is tied to your mother’s life essence. As you may have noticed, Elyrin is especially good at enchanting stones.” He gestured to Arabel’s necklace. The necklace? This whole time, it had been her mother’s necklace? Except, no, of course it had never been her mother’s necklace. I’m an idiot. Why had she ever thought it was really her mother’s necklace?

  “Sir,” Elyrin said. “Perhaps if we instead… there’s no need to…”

  Arabel’s eyes snapped to the sorcerer; he loo
ked agonized.

  “Quiet, Elyrin. I don’t have time for this.”

  Arabel was watching Elyrin now. “You don’t have to help him,” she said. “You know what he’s doing is—” Again the power of her voice and body left her.

  “Enough of that,” her father said. “You and I are speaking. There is no need to involve anyone else. This is a family matter.”

  Her body was hers again, and she met her father’s eyes coldly. “I’m not going to help you.”

  “Then I will kill your mother,” he said smoothly.

  Why was he doing this? Why did he want her to do it? Because he’d lost his control over her years ago. She’d banished her fear and her grief, and she’d been a thorn in his side her whole life. And this was the last piece. He wanted to show her that he could still make her do whatever he wanted.

  Would he really kill her mother? Fear gripped her. Yes, he would. She’d just gotten her mother back. She couldn’t let her mother die. She’d promised. Her throat closed up. She’d promised her mother that she would rescue her. That she would come back. If she helped him, would he let her mother live? Only if she was useful. He’d kept her alive this long. But if the door was open, would he have a use for her anymore?

  And would he let Arabel live? It didn’t matter. All Arabel cared about anymore was stopping her father and saving her mother and her friends. She clenched and unclenched her fists.

  “Hurry up, daughter, I don’t have all day,” he said.

  What did he want? Why the vault, anyway? Her eyes strayed to the dragon and the spider, now tearing at one another in the cage. She saw the golden threads that went from them to her father, saw something else now, too. A turquoise line of power, constricting those golden threads, going straight from them to Elyrin. And it hit her. That was why her father wanted into the vault. There were so many eidolons. Thousands of them. All kept quiet so that they didn’t drain too much from the people they came from. Her father would wake them up, put them in cages like those before her. And Elyrin would siphon all that power from them. With a source of power like that, no one would be able to stand in his way.

  And what could she do to stop him? All she had was the stupid choice he had given her.