The Eidolons of Myrefall

by Sarah McCarthy

  After the ceremony, Naomi caught up with Arabel as she was leaving the courtyard.

  “Arabel, wait a moment.”

  Arabel paused, wondering if the new archguard was going to make her first act throwing Arabel out of the castle. Or locking her up with her father.

  “I’m sorry,” Naomi said. “I misjudged you.”

  “No, you didn’t. You were right. I was working with my father. Not willingly, but I was. And… I only wanted to be here for myself.”

  “Well.” Naomi stuck her hands in her pockets. “What are you planning now? Do you want to join us?”

  Arabel hadn’t thought about what she was going to do next. The only thing she was thinking about was going home. To find her mother.

  “I have… things… I need to take care of. Back in Myrefall.”

  “Of course. I understand.” Naomi pursed her lips and lifted a hand to the back of her neck, staring off towards the distant mountains. “Eh,” she said finally. “I think this is the right thing to do.” She pulled out the soul blade she’d had slung around her shoulders. “This belongs to you.”

  Arabel reached out and took it reverently. The white, polished wood of the handle vibrated gently under her touch. “But… I thought there was a ceremony… and, don’t you have to be chosen by the blade? And… aren’t these only given to guardians?” She stared at the beautiful weapon in wonder.

  “Yes. This is a special circumstance. We’ve never given a blade to a non-guardian before, but… what does it even mean to be a guardian? You’ve already made the sacrifices a guardian promises to make. And this blade… well… the soul inside it already chose you. While it was alive.”

  Arabel tore her eyes away from the blade, looked at Naomi in surprise. “While it was…”

  “Yes. Ian knew long ago that he wanted to give his soul to a blade. And… when he met you…” Naomi scratched her head. “Well, I thought he was insane, but he was adamant. And… it was his choice to make.”

  A warm presence filled the handle.

  “He said you were his daughter,” Naomi said. Arabel’s throat tightened, but Naomi continued. “He said Oswald told him that you weren’t, really, but he still saw you that way.” She turned away, giving Arabel a moment of privacy to scrub away her tears.

  “Thank you, Naomi,” she said finally, her voice rough.

  Naomi nodded curtly. “I know you’ll use it well.”

  42

  As much as Arabel detested the idea, she had to go see her father. She put it off for a few days, visiting David’s bedside every day. Elyrin died in his sleep. Finally, she forced herself to go. Cecil was being kept in the dungeons, in a separate room all to himself where he could neither see nor hear any of his men. Accompanied by Rody, Arabel unlocked the door and entered the cell. Rody pulled it most of the way closed behind her.

  “Ah, daughter,” Cecil said. “Come to your senses, finally? Come to let your father out?”

  “Elyrin’s dead,” Arabel said, leaning against the wall, crossing her arms and regarding him coolly.

  “Yes, well, I wasn’t able to give him his antidote from in here, was I?”

  Arabel raised her eyebrows. “Antidote to what?”

  “To the poison I gave him, oh, years ago now. He never knew. You’d better hope I haven’t done the same to you.”

  “I’ve been gone for months, now.”

  “True, but you forget I’ve had control of you whenever I liked.”

  Arabel considered this. Finally, she rolled her eyes. “Fine. If you’ve poisoned me, I’ll just die again, I guess.”

  Cecil’s smugness waned slightly.

  Arabel could feel the fury and the love and the hurt that she had absorbed roiling around inside her. These were his feelings, parts of himself that he had pushed away long ago. Feeling their intensity, she could understand why someone would want to push them away.

  “Do you want your eidolons back now?”

  He eyed her. “I do not.”

  She shrugged. “Fine. I’m putting them in a confine, then.”

  “Is this why you came here?” Cecil asked. “Logistics? Not to release me? I only ever did what was best for you, you know.”

  Arabel pushed herself off the wall. “No.” She pulled a package, wrapped in wax paper, from her pocket and held it out to him. “I just came to give you this.”

  He took it warily, slowly pulling back the layers. A cherry pastry. The fresh-baked, buttery smell wafted up from it.

  “I’m not you,” Arabel said, and left.

  For a long time after she left, Cecil stared at the pastry, sniffing its enticing smell, but knowing deep down that she had poisoned it. He watched, agonizing, as it cooled on the floor before him, until finally a rat came and took it away.

  43

  After leaving her father, Arabel went to find Alistair. She paused outside the door to his room. Only silence from the other side. Good. When she knocked, the bed creaked, and Alistair pulled the door open.

  “You washed your hair,” she blurted.

  He leaned on the doorframe. “Hello, Arabel.”

  She peered around him. “Can I come in?”

  He moved back, went to sit on his bed, and Arabel followed, shoving the smelly pile of clothes out of the way and sitting across from him.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked.

  “Hmm? Oh, fine.” She massaged her sternum. “Naomi helped me put Cecil’s stuff in a confine. It’s still connected to me slightly, but she doesn’t think it’ll be a big deal. How are you? How was the Rite?”

  “It was… good.”

  She waited. Silence was still probably the best way to get information out of Alistair.

  “I’m glad I came back,” he said eventually.

  She couldn’t take any more of this waiting, even if it was effective. “So, what are you going to do now?”

  “I’ll do a little more reading, then go find the sorcerer who killed my sister.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yes.”

  Arabel thought of her father, sitting down in the castle dungeons. That was where revenge had gotten him. “Look. I get where you’re coming from.”

  “No. You don’t.”

  “But your plan is to… what, kill the sorcerer who killed your sister? Maybe torture him first?”

  Real rage flashed into his eyes. This wasn’t the hidden spark of anger she’d caught a glimpse of before. This was fury.

  “I won’t do anything to him he doesn’t deserve.”

  “OK, but, hear me out. One, that makes you just as bad as him. And—”

  “No, it definitely does not.”

  “Stooping to someone’s level is—”

  “You sound a lot like David.”

  She chewed her lip. “OK, fair. Sorry. I get that you must—”

  “No, Arabel, you don’t get it.” He stood and paced the floor. “You don’t get it at all. He didn’t just kill her. Her tortured her. He hurt her. Because of me.” He pounded a fist against the wall, taking a few ragged, deep breaths.

  Arabel watched him silently.

  Alistair turned and looked at her from behind a curtain of black hair. “She didn’t deserve that. I did. I dragged her down into it. I was the one who—” He shook his head, then straightened, coming back to sit across from her. He gripped the edges of the bed, leaning forward.

  “I was supposed to protect her. Our parents died when we were little, and we got through everything together.” He rubbed his palm across his forehead. “She was the best person. Always laughing. Always trying to help people. She saw the best in everyone. The best in the world. That’s what she drew. And she could have been happy doing that. Just being an artist and making the world a more beautiful place. Except for me.

  “I learned how to steal, to support us when we were kids on the street.” He looked at Arabel. “And I was really, really good at it.”

  “I’m sure.”

  “I got cocky, though. Picked bigger and big
ger marks. I—” His voice went hoarse. “I asked her to take portrait commissions from the wealthiest sorcerers. The most powerful. That way she could take note of the layout, see where all the valuables were.” He shook his head.

  “It worked great for a while. We made so much money. Gave most of it away, at her suggestion, to kids who were where we had been.”

  Arabel nodded without speaking.

  “And then one day I came home and…” He stared at his knees for several long seconds. “Some men were there. They’d beaten and tortured her all day. She was barely alive. They questioned me.” His voice became even, matter of fact, drained of all emotion. Arabel saw his soul shaking, pieces of it loosening. No wonder he hadn’t wanted to talk about this before. “I told them everything. I told them what I’d done with what I’d stolen. Where they could find the kids I’d given it to. They killed her in front of me. Then the sorcerer came. They’d blindfolded me, but they’d beaten me so badly I don’t know if I could have seen him anyway. All I remember is his voice. He did something. Ripped my soul into pieces and threw me outside the city walls. Left me to die. Which was fine by me.”

  Arabel stared at him, openmouthed. She reached out and put a hand on his knee, totally unsure if that was the right thing to do but needing to do something. They sat like that for a long while, until Alistair straightened, and she withdrew her hand.

  “So,” Alistair said. “That’s my story. And that’s why I need revenge.”

  She nodded. “Whoa. That’s… I’m so sorry.”

  She wanted to tell him that revenge wouldn’t help, that he should stay here, that the guardians were the last defense that anyone had against the sorcerers. That the best revenge would be helping them. But what Alistair had been through…

  “Then you have to go,” she said. He looked up in surprise.

  “That’s it? I was really expecting you to argue with me.”

  “I mean. That’s really, really terrible. I don’t know what it’s like for you. So… if that’s what you have to do, then yeah. OK. How can I help?”

  “Thank you.” He swallowed, then shook his head. “Just promise you won’t follow me back to Sorcerer’s Reach.”

  “I mean…” the corner of her mouth quirked into a smile. “One, that’s a lot to ask, and two—”

  “Yeah, yeah, I already told you where I’m going so you wouldn’t have to follow me anyway.” He grinned reluctantly.

  “But, yeah, OK,” she said. “Good luck.”

  He nodded. “Thanks.”

  She patted his knee again awkwardly. Then she helped him pack, walked him down to the front gates, and said goodbye.

  44

  The next day, Arabel, Avery, Ferne, and the other guardians were eating lunch when the door to the dining room banged open and Charlotte came hurtling in. She streaked towards the staircase, registering only after she’d passed that her sister was sitting at the table with the others, and came flying back in. She pulled her sister to her feet, wrapping her arms tightly around her and pressing her face into her sister’s neck.

  “Oh, god, Ferne, are you OK? I’m sorry I was gone so long. I only had one, but it was huge and it kept running away and I sat there arguing with it for days and days before I finally realized what it was.” She stopped and held Ferne at arm’s length.

  “Charlotte, I’m so sorry, I know I said I’d stay in the room the whole time but—”

  “No, it’s OK. I never should have asked you to…” Charlotte swallowed and looked at her feet. “Look. I… I realized something… out on the Rite.” Her face reddened, but she pulled her shoulders back. “I’m going to marry Marcus.”

  Ferne gaped. “That—er, what?”

  Charlotte pulled a stick out of her hair. “I couldn’t… I couldn’t even think about it before, because I couldn’t even think about… about leaving you… I still can’t.” Her voice broke, but Ferne took her hand and squeezed.

  “No, Charlotte, it’s OK. I think I knew. But I didn’t want to lose you either. I… I need to stay here, though. I really do want to be a guardian.”

  Her sister smiled fiercely. “And you will be the best guardian. Let’s go get you better weapons… and… and… a helmet… with pearls on it…”

  Her sister wrapped her arms around her waist. “Oooh, yes, and we need to get you a wedding dress. What if it matched? Pearls and diamonds on your dress, and—”

  “A matching guardian outfit for you, yes.” Her sister was glowing, quickly regaining her composure. They swept off, muttering about silk versus linen sashes.

  That evening, as Arabel was heading for her room, a small figure came silently up from behind, took her hand, and pressed a small blue stone into it. Maureen was gone before Arabel could even say anything.

  She found Avery, Ferne, and Charlotte sitting on Avery’s bed, talking about Charlotte’s wedding plans, and for several minutes she sat listening. When there was a lull, she interjected.

  “Hey… I was wondering...”

  They turned to look at her. Arabel took a breath. “I need to go back to Myrefall. To… to find my… my mother.”

  “We’re coming with you,” Avery said immediately, and Arabel’s heart swelled.

  45

  The next morning, before they left, Arabel took her soul blade down to the practice field. There was nothing to fight, but it was long and more unwieldy than anything she’d used before. She put herself through some drills Rody had shown her, practicing keeping control while she whirled it overhead, feeling how the long ends affected her balance as she repositioned her feet. It was perfectly weighted, but the ends were surprisingly heavy.

  A slow, shuffling step crunched through the gravel behind her, and she whirled around to see David leaning on a cane. He smiled an embarrassed smile. The bandage around his chest was a large bulk under his green tunic.

  “Sorry to interrupt.”

  She hefted the blade over her shoulder, balancing it there.

  “It’s good to see you up and about already.”

  “Well, turns out you didn’t stab me that well.”

  “You mean my father didn’t stab you that well. If I’d wanted to stab you…”

  He laughed. “Yeah, yeah, sure.”

  “I mean, look at me. Whose stab wound lasted longer?” Her heart twinged, thinking about exactly why she was all right. It was too soon to joke about, but also she needed to. She couldn’t let herself really fully think about what had happened.

  “A fair point.” He grimaced and readjusted his weight on the cane. “Anyway, I wasn’t sure how long you’d be here, and I wanted to talk to you.”

  Her heart skipped a beat. “Oh yeah? What about?”

  He looked down. “Well, first I wanted to apologize. I shouldn’t have said what I said, or at least I shouldn’t have said it then. That was pretty harsh of me to pile on like that.”

  “I mean, what were you going to do, pretend you thought well of me?” Her chest constricted.

  “I could have tried to understand you better. I put my own values on you; I told you you should be a certain way and then criticized you when you didn’t live up to that.” His grey eyes searched her face. “I… tend to do that. You may have noticed I have kinda high standards for myself.”

  “What, because twelve of the first fifteen archguards are your ancestors? And you spend hours every morning practicing? And you ran away to join the guardians no less than what—five times? Yes, I’ve noticed.”

  “Right. Anyway. You didn’t deserve that. You and I come from different places, and you had your own stuff. What you did, that’s more than I’ve ever done for the guardians. You literally gave your life, and then when that came back, you immediately sacrificed yourself again.”

  “I mean, maybe you just underestimate how much I dislike my father.”

  “Hah. Maybe so.” He ran his hand over the back of his neck. “Anyway… Avery mentioned you’re headed back to Myrefall today… I was just wondering… Do you think you’ll be ba
ck?”

  “Meaning am I going to join the guardians?”

  “That, but more importantly, I’d like my sparring partner back.”

  She repressed the grin that started to spread over her face. “You’d better hope I get some devastating injury out on the road, then. Cause right now…”

  He grinned back at her. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Give me two weeks.”

  “Two weeks? Really?”

  “Yes really. You think I haven’t been stabbed before? This is nothing.”

  She rolled her eyes.

  “All right. Well, when I get back, we’ll see. I don’t know if I plan on joining. Maybe.” She flipped the soul blade to her other shoulder. “And… yeah, I’d like that.”

  She closed the distance between them, and he leaned his head down, his lips meeting hers. She kissed him briefly, then pulled away.

  “I’ll see you when I get back.”

  He nodded. “Safe travels.”

  She left him standing alone on the practice field.

  46

  The four of them left later that morning, Arabel’s new soul blade strapped across her back. Having secured Naomi’s permission to borrow four of the guardians’ horses for the journey, they made good time down the mountains, stopping deep in the forest after a full day’s riding.

  They sat around the campfire, roasting—or burning, in Charlotte’s case—their food over the fire and trading stories.

  The other three exclaimed in disgust, hearing about the siphon Arabel had found on her thread.

  “If I had found something like that, I would have thrown it off a mountain,” Charlotte said.

  “Yeah, well, I was in a hurry.”

  “Do you think it’s still connected to you?” Ferne asked.

  “Once she incorporated the eidolon, the thread disappeared,” Avery said. “So there’s nothing for it to be connected to anymore.”