“But you did leave something out, didn’t you?” he pressed. “Something important.”
“I did,” admitted Rose, “but I do not know whether it is the truth or not.” Matthew leaned forward with interest, so she continued, “Your father and I met an Illeniel Elder, a gatekeeper of some sort, named Kion. Mordecai fought with him and took his power but left him alive. After that, something happened to him and he left me there. It was Kion that sent me back to this side, but not before filling my ears with dire portents.”
“What did he say?”
“That no matter what he did, Mordecai would grow stronger. His every action causes his power to increase, until eventually it will overwhelm him, and he will destroy the world. Kion seemed to think it was a foregone conclusion, that all we could do was sit back and wait for it to all end,” she explained.
His eyes lit with comprehension. “That’s why he’s been hiding. He’s been trying to do nothing.”
Rose smiled sadly. “Probably. He seems to know what’s happening to him.”
“Did the Elder know of a solution?” asked Matthew.
She chewed her lip, an uncharacteristic action for Rose Thornbear. “Kion said that if he had taken your father’s power, he would have destroyed himself after accomplishing his task. I don’t think that’s possible for Mort.”
Matthew thought about it for a minute, then responded, “When I met him, near Lancaster, his power was so great he couldn’t get near me. When he met Moira, she said it burned her just being half a block from him. It’s probably gone too far for anything to destroy him now.”
Rose blinked, and an unbidden tear fell from one of her eyes. “He’s your father. Could you kill him? Even if it were possible, could you do such a thing?”
His heart clenched in his chest, but then he asked Rose a question in response, “You have a daughter. If it would save her life, could you do it?”
Her face twisted with pain. “This is just a hypothetical. There’s no way to do such a thing.”
Matthew pressed on, “If I find a way, could you do it?”
Agitated and perhaps angry, Rose stood up from the table, turning away, but not before he saw more tears welling in her eyes. “Yes,” she answered. “If you doubt me, just ask Chad Grayson.” Then she left the room.
Matt stared at her empty cup, lost in dark thoughts. She had given him his answer. If Rose can do it, then I can too, he thought to himself. It might destroy him inside, but then again, he was already torn with guilt for what had happened to Moira. This would just be one more log to throw on his bonfire of regrets.
***
The next morning Matthew rose late. His sleep had been troubled by dark thoughts and even darker dreams. After rising he meditated, and despite his sleepless night, he found the sliver of light that represented a possible way forward into the future had grown brighter. She told me what I needed to hear, but it gives me no comfort, he thought. To guide his family and friends past the grim gate, he would be forced to destroy his father.
No, not destroy, he realized. Destroying him would be like releasing the Fool’s Tesseract after it has absorbed too much. I have to somehow eradicate him completely, as though he never existed. But that was impossible. He knew that already, at a level so deep it went beyond knowledge or even intuition. Gary had even said something to that effect once, even though he came from a world without magic. “Energy cannot be created or destroyed,” the android had told him.
Just thinking about it made his head hurt and his heart ache. Still, there had to be some way, otherwise the small hope for the future he had seen wouldn’t exist at all. Despite his normal reticence, he wanted to tell the others about his dilemma. It was a problem too large for him, if only because it tore at the very core of his emotions. But he had looked at that possibility directly during his meditation. If he shared what he knew, completely and honestly, Irene and Conall wouldn’t cooperate and they seemed to be crucial to whatever it was he had to do.
That meant his most likely course would require a half-truth, something that grated on his nerves. He had never liked lying, whether doing it himself or receiving them from others.
Voices from beyond his room brought him back from his reverie. Irene and Conall had returned, creating a vibrant chaos of greetings and hellos as everyone reunited around the breakfast table. That brought him another sense of dread. He had promised Irene to tell her the truth when she came home.
Matthew drew himself up and took a deep breath before stepping into the hall and approaching the dining room. Everyone glanced up at his arrival, and as he had expected, Irene and Conall were seated among them, along with Elise Thornbear. Something else drew his eyes, though. In his younger brother’s hand was an unusual staff he had never seen before. It was enchanted, much like the one their father used, but that wasn’t what made it so strange.
It was composed entirely of magic, much like one of Moira’s spellbeasts. From the way Conall held it, it had a physical presence, but there was no normal matter within it. In many ways it resembled one of the spell constructs the She’Har created with their spellweaves, but it was clearly made using human runes.
Ignoring everything else, Matthew asked, “What is that?”
Karen’s face was a picture of stern disapproval. “Is that any way to greet your brother?”
Most of the others were looking at him strangely, but Irene seemed pleased by the question. “What do you think it is?” she returned.
“It’s good to see you too, Matt,” said Conall, before handing the staff to Irene. “It’s just something Rennie loaned me to help me walk.”
Myra, still pretending to be Moira, sat at the far end of the table, and as usual she had already begun skimming thoughts from the surface of his mind. Is that staff really more important than what you’re planning to say? You should have at least said hello to him first, she told him, sending the thoughts to him privately.
Don’t remind me, he thought, then added, and yes, it might be. I’m not sure. Looking at Conall, he inquired, “How are you feeling?”
Conall grinned, “Much better, thanks to Lady Thornbear. I’m still a little weak and the stitches in my side itch, but otherwise I’m right as—”
“Glad to hear it,” interrupted Matthew impatiently. “Did you make that staff, Rennie?” he asked immediately after. Karen threw up her hands in despair at his rudeness, then covered her face with her palms.
The others were more used to his strange behavior, having long ago given up on him following social norms, and Irene’s eyes actually twinkled at his sudden interest. “It was something that occurred to me when Father was teaching me about enchanting.”
Matthew frowned. “He couldn’t have taught you that. No one’s done that before. How did you manage it?”
Irene’s expression was supremely smug. She had finally stumped her brother and shown him something that amazed him. “I was learning to make rune channels, and Dad was telling me about the different uses for them depending on size. He suggested I might prefer a wand, but it got me to thinking I should make one that could be altered to whatever size was desired.” Lifting the staff, she said a word and the weapon shrank in her hand until it was the size of writing stylus. “See? Now I can use it for fine detail work without having to have a separate…”
He nodded, still impatient. “That’s not the point. It isn’t anchored to anything.” Creating an enchantment that could change size on command wasn’t anything new—his Fool’s Tesseract did that, as did their father’s flying construct, stasis cubes, and shield stones, but those were all anchored to small objects that could move to accommodate the change in the structure.
Lynaralla seemed confused. “I do that with spellweaves all the time. Enchanting is fundamentally the same. Why are you surprised?”
“Enchanting is done slowly,” explained Matthew. “That’s why we use objects, because we don’t have a seed-mind to create it all at once. There’s no other way for us to stabilize the st
ructure before it collapses.”
Irene smirked. “Clearly, you are wrong. There is a way. You just never thought of it.”
Irritated, Matthew replied, “Not just me. Dad never thought of a way, and not just him. I remember the Age of Magic. None of the enchanters of the past ever came up with a method either. How did you do it?”
“Wax,” said Irene. “I watched Dad making a mold, and when he was melting the wax out, I got the idea. I made the staff out of wax, then inscribed the enchantment. I had to include an additional portion to control the size, of course, but it wasn’t too complicated. After I was done, I melted the wax away and I was left with this. Neat, huh?”
Matthew stared at his younger sister as though she had grown a second head. Irene winked at him, then asked smugly, “Impressed, aren’t you?”
He blinked slowly, twice, then replied honestly, “I think I am.”
Elaine was standing in the corner of the room, and she snorted when she heard his response. “I never thought I’d hear you admit that.”
Karen moved closer and put her arm around Matthew’s waist. “I’m proud of you.” Then, in a faintly malicious tone she added, “It’ll do you good to have someone take the wind out of your sails now and then.”
Enjoying the moment, Irene took the initiative to ask, “What were you waiting to tell me the other day, Matt?” Everyone paused to look at her, then at Matthew, who seemed to withdraw into himself.
Are you sure about this? Myra sent to him mentally.
He met Myra’s eyes and nodded, then drew himself up to address the others. “I’m not sure if I should bring this up in front of everyone, Rennie. It might be better if it was just you and Conall. It’s a family matter.”
Irene hesitated, but Conall answered immediately, “Everyone here is family, Matt. Lady Rose, Lady Thornbear, Gram, Elaine, they’re as close as blood.”
Matthew looked to Irene for confirmation, and she nodded. Still nervous, he found himself looking down as he began, “There’s been a tragedy, another death…” His words trailed off as he struggled to express himself. The room had gone deathly silent and all eyes were on him. “It was my fault,” he added. “Just like Conall being wounded.”
“What are you trying to say?” asked Irene, consternation filling her eyes.
When Matthew failed to speak for several seconds, everyone began to pepper him with questions. Conall stood, wincing in the process, and went to stand beside him. “Give him a second!” Then he looked at his older brother. “It wasn’t your fault what happened to me. You weren’t even there. I was just trying to do the right thing and bit off more than I could chew.”
Matthew’s eyes were haunted as he listened to Conall. “No, it was my fault. I was the one that sent Moira there.”
Confused and irritated, Gram spoke up, “Just say it.”
Unable to stand by silently any longer, Myra answered, “Moira is dead.”
“You’re standing right in front of us,” put in Elaine. “Are you confused? That’s a real body I’m looking at, not like Myra’s…” Her words trailed off. Glancing around, she saw looks of confusion on everyone’s faces, confusion that was slowly being replaced by dawning dread, mirroring her own reaction.
Myra dropped her gaze, staring at the floor. “This is her body, but I’m not Moira.”
Chapter 33
Karen recovered from her shock first. “Myra? Is that you?” she asked. Lost for words, Myra could only nod in affirmation.
“Hold up,” exclaimed Conall, glancing toward his older brother. “I know you told me not to mention this, but just the other day I saw Moira. How can she be dead?”
“Matthew sent her to the capital to overturn the Queen’s decision regarding Dad and the rest of us as well,” said Irene, her voice growing dark. Her eyes were focused solely on Matthew, and in them he could see a growing condemnation.
Rose watched them all with interest, keeping silent since she didn’t have first-hand information of the events they were discussing, but her son, Gram, broke in, “Matthew’s letter just said to ‘unify Lothion.’ There’s no way he knew she would go to such lengths, or get herself killed.”
Irene’s gaze never left Matthew’s face. “No, he knew exactly what she would do. She even said so herself, when I tried to stop her. Her words to me were, ‘He knew exactly what his message would set in motion.’” The tension in her body was growing visibly as she spoke. “Not only that, but he knew what would happen. He knew she would die, and he sent her anyway!” When Matthew didn’t respond, she yelled at him, voice filled with rage, “Didn’t you?!”
“I knew it was possible,” admitted Matt, “but it wasn’t probable…”
“So you decided to just roll the dice with your sister’s life? Is that supposed to make this better? Do you think that would make me forgive you?” growled Irene between clenched teeth.
Conall was staring at his older brother with a look of growing shock and disbelief, but Irene’s rage snapped him out of it. Stepping between them, he held his hands out toward her. “You need to calm down, Rennie. We don’t even know how it happened yet. You aren’t the only one suffering here either. I know Matt’s feeling the same pain we are.”
“Don’t tell me to calm down,” snapped Irene. “He’s been playing with all of us. Using us like pawns in some grand game of chess!”
“It wasn’t his fault,” interjected Myra. “I was there. Moira changed her own plan at the last minute, putting herself in danger rather than using me, or one of the spell-minds she had created. I argued against it, but she ignored me.”
Irene’s cheeks were red and her eyes welling with tears as she turned angrily on Myra. “Would that have made it better? Should I be relieved to know that he thought it might be you who died instead? You’re my sister too, even if you weren’t born in a flesh and blood body.”
“She’s right,” muttered Matthew, barely loud enough to be heard.
Karen gave him a look of concern, reaching out to put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “It isn’t as simple as that. We’ve all made hard choices. We can’t lay the blame for any of our misfortunes at the feet of any one person.”
Matthew flinched away, then took a step to remove himself from her reach. Then he raised his voice, “No, she is right. I have been playing a game. It’s a hard, cruel game, and the cost of losing could be all of our lives, but I’m the only one who can play it. I’m the only one who can see the probabilities, and I’ve been taking chances with everyone’s lives.
“But I’m not going to stop now,” he declared, lifting his head to stare at them with cold determination. “Someone has to do this, or there won’t be a future.”
Irene seemed close to throwing herself at him as he made his declaration, but Alyssa and Lynaralla were holding her now. “As if we would listen to anything you told us to do!” yelled Irene. “Do you think we’re fools to be played twice?”
“I do,” said Matthew simply. “You have no choice. You’ll do it because it’s the only way to save this world. You’ll do it because the only way to save the future is to save Dad.” With that, he turned and left the room, leaving them all in shock.
His younger sister’s voice started to climb in the back of her throat, promising a scream that would shake the rooftop, but Rose’s cool command cut across the room, “Irene, enough.”
The younger woman stared at Rose silently, a dazed expression on her face.
“We need to make some tea,” announced Rose. “Come with me, Irene.” Then she addressed the room, “We’ll be back in a few minutes. We can discuss what happened then. I’m sure Myra has a lot to tell us.” Taking Irene by the hand, she led the young wizard toward the kitchen.
***
Irene filled a large kettle with water and brought it back into the kitchen, where Rose placed it carefully on the stove-top to heat. The younger woman didn’t say anything, for she was still trying to sort out her emotions and Rose was one person she didn’t feel comfortable speaki
ng rashly in front of. For one, the woman was like an aunt to her, an aunt who, unlike her mother, had never been one to tolerate ill-considered words.
As a result, Irene found herself reflecting on her emotions silently. She was angry. No, she was beyond angry. The shock of losing her mother, and then everything that had happened to her father, it was all still too recent. Now to discover Moira had died, quietly and without anyone being aware, as a direct result of one of Matthew’s schemes—it was too much.
It doesn’t matter what he was trying to achieve, it’s still his fault, she resolved. The end doesn’t justify the means, and those means cost Moira her life.
Rose’s voice cut through the silence like a splash of cold water. “I don’t know if I’ve ever said this to you before, Irene, but of all your siblings, your personality is the most like your mother’s.”
She had no idea how to respond to that, so she remained quiet, studying the table in front of her.
“Conall is a bit like her as well,” continued Rose, “but he doesn’t have the same sensitivity more commonly found in our sex. Nor is he as intelligent as you are, when you give yourself time to think.”
“Thank you,” said Irene after some hesitation.
“In fact, you’re probably brighter than your mother. She could be remarkably dense at times, thanks in part to her incredible stubbornness,” added Rose, her gaze focused on the window to the garden.
Irene felt her anger bubbling up toward the surface again. “Mom wouldn’t have been any happier about what he’s done than I am.”
“The interesting thing about families is that every person has a role to play. People tend to gravitate toward the part that best suits them. Do you know what role best suited your mother?” asked Rose.
Hackles rising, Irene responded, “I’m not my mother.”
Rose’s eyes flicked toward the younger woman for an instant, and Irene could feel them weighing her worth, then they returned to the window scene. “No. You are not her. Nor did your mother fill the role you assumed I meant. When you were young, she held your family together. She was the glue, the unifier, but as you and her other children grew up, that changed. She became the family protector, the guardian. You took on the part of family peacemaker.”
Transcendence and Rebellion Page 27
