Karen had left a minute before, and when she returned with Irene and Conall in tow, everyone finally relaxed. As soon as the tension faded, Dorian’s attention turned to the young woman who had been staring at him the entire time. Carissa had been standing off to one side of the room, as though afraid to approach, but her eyes had never left his face.
Gram and Alyssa had been studying Dorian as well, each for their own reasons, and Rose watched them all. No one knew what to say, and all of them seemed to be waiting for someone else to speak first.
Reading the room, Myra took Karen’s hand while glancing at Irene and Conall. “Let’s give them some space.” Alyssa rose to leave with them, but Karen shook her head.
Rose put a hand on Alyssa’s arm. “You should stay. You’re family, remember?”
While Rose reassured her future daughter-in-law of her place, Carissa hesitantly approached Dorian, though she kept looking at Gram. She seemed to draw confidence from her brother, as though she was afraid of the stranger in the room. “My name is Carissa,” she said tentatively, feeling stupid as she realized how ridiculous the words were.
“I know,” said Dorian, his voice husky. “I can’t believe how beautiful you are. When I last saw you, you were so small.” He lifted his arms to mime cradling a baby, and then his reserve broke and he began to weep. Unsure what to do with himself, Dorian stood alone as he wept, afraid to reach out, but he couldn’t control his tears.
Gram gave his sister a nudge and Carissa stepped forward and hugged her father. She wasn’t crying, for she hardly knew him, and nothing felt real. Dorian looked up and opened one arm toward Gram, who was standing close by with wet eyes. “Come here, Gram.”
The three of them embraced and as Gram sobbed, Carissa’s eyes began to water. In fact, there were no dry eyes in the room by then, and Rose pulled Alyssa to her as they watched Dorian with his children. After a minute or two had passed, Gram and Carissa separated from him, and Rose could stand it no longer.
She was in his arms and everyone was crying again. “I missed you so much!” she sobbed, completely losing her usual composure.
“I’m so sorry,” said Dorian, repeating the phrase over and over. “I shouldn’t have left you.”
Lifting her head, Rose kissed him to stop the stream of apologies. “It wasn’t your fault,” she said gently, before moving on to kiss his cheeks, his chin, and his nose. She held his face in her hands and stared at his features, as though trying to burn them into her mind.
And then Dorian’s eyes unfocused and his lids began to droop. “I feel so sleepy,” he muttered.
Gram noticed something else entirely. “He’s fading!”
Rose looked down in alarm and saw what Gram had seen. Dorian’s lower body had become translucent. “What? No!”
Opening his eyes again, Dorian forced his attention back to them. “I don’t think I can stay.” Rushing his words, he looked at each of them, beginning with Alyssa. “I’m grateful for you. Take care of my boy.” Then he addressed Carissa, “Forgive me for not being there. You’re more than I ever expected.” To Gram he said, “I’m proud of you, son. Take care of them.”
His last words were to her, “I love you, Rose. You did better than I ever could have.”
She clung to him. “That’s not true. Don’t go. I need you here. I love…” But he vanished completely as she finished, “…you.” Rose’s scream echoed through the house, a cry of anguish that tore at the hearts of everyone who heard it.
She wasn’t alone, though. They all had grief to deal with, they had all lost loved ones, whether a sister, a father, or as in Rose’s case, both the men she had loved.
***
I stood in the courtyard of Castle Cameron. The black keep I had created loomed over me, drinking the sun and shimmering in odd places. It had cooled since its creation, though it still needed considerable work before it would be ready for occupation.
I probably wouldn’t be the one to occupy it. My son, Conall, was the Count di’ Cameron now. Given the Queen’s reversal, she would likely be willing to restore my title, but I couldn’t imagine taking on that mantle again, not without Penny. Time had passed, and for a while the entire world had been against me. Trying to reclaim my place here felt wrong. I couldn’t forget, I couldn’t pretend nothing had happened.
I wandered aimlessly for a short time, unsure of what to do with myself. The castle felt empty and abandoned, like me. I wanted out, for I knew my family was waiting for me, but none of the teleportation circles worked. The ones in the transfer house had been deliberately ruined, and when I tried creating a new one that would take me to my workshop by the mountain cottage, it failed. The shield enchantment around the castle was active, so there was no way in or out, at least not until I could find the controls.
The secret control room inside the keep was gone, a necessity when I had rebuilt the place. My plan had been to restore it to its former location once the interior was ready, but that time hadn’t come yet. Still, someone had turned on the shield, which meant they had relinked the key somewhere.
I began searching the outer buildings. It had to be in one of them. Actually, it doesn’t, my inner voice reminded me, but I ignored it. If it wasn’t inside, then I was trapped. Who knew how long I would have to wait before someone came to inspect the place.
A fresh thought came to me, and I tried making a circle to my old home in Albamarl. That didn’t work either, meaning the circle there had also been defaced. Frustrated, I stared at the shimmering wall of force that covered the castle and began to think destructive thoughts, but after a moment I took a deep breath. I was kidding myself, for I was far too weak to even consider such a thing.
The dreamer had stripped me of most of the power that had accumulated within me, leaving me feeling decidedly fragile. My aythar would recover, given rest, and I could still feel the dark hunger hovering at the edge of my awareness. I would have to be careful in the future, for now I knew where that craving led.
It took me half an hour to find the control pedestal, which turned out to be in a small shed that for some reason I checked last. I felt stupid. I should have known it would be in a temporary structure rather than one of the more permanent buildings.
Once the shield was down, I looked at the sky, wondering if I dared try to fly. I still had the skill, but I wasn’t sure if I had the energy. I had to get home, but trekking through the mountains would take days. For the first time I regretted not having given myself a dragon.
The bond would have interfered with my abilities as an archmage, which was my main reason for not having done so, but it would have been nice to have an easy source of power. Or just a ride, I told myself mentally.
“They still think I’m dead,” I said aloud. Worse, they thought they had killed me. My children must be filled with a whole host of dark emotions, from guilt to regret.
Since I didn’t have any realistic options, I took the gate that led into Washbrook, using a tiny bit of power to disguise my features. Almost everyone knew me there, and the last thing I wanted was to cause a ruckus. Aside from my family, I didn’t really care if anyone ever found out I was still alive.
I was tired and hungry, so I went to the Muddy Pig. The place turned out to be full of people all talking nervously about the events of the day. The sky had gone dark earlier, and the town had been coated with a heavy layer of dirt and dust when a cloud of dirty air had settled over it. It had cleared up pretty quickly, but the townsfolk were worried. They had lived in the shadow of Castle Cameron too long, and they knew the work of wizardry when they saw it. The current debate was between those who thought they should use the basement shelter and those who thought they should consider evacuating the town entirely.
I didn’t know what had happened, having been isolated by the golden prison, so I had no idea what to tell them. Instead I maintained my disguise and made my way to the bar to find a seat. Since I appeared to be a stranger, I received a lot of suspicious looks from the locals, but I wa
s happy to accept that rather than make myself known.
“Danae,” I called, catching the barmaid’s attention.
She stared at me quizzically but came over to me, nonetheless. “Do I know you?” she asked.
Realizing my mistake, I answered, “No. Can I get some beer and whatever you have in the kitchen?”
“The kitchen is closed right now,” she responded. “How did you know my name?”
“Just a guess,” I replied. “A friend of mine comes here, Chad Grayson. He spoke of you.”
Her demeanor shifted from wary to worried. “Have you seen him?”
I shook my head. “Not for some time.”
Something must have caught her attention, for she looked at me carefully. “Are you sure we haven’t met? Your voice sounds familiar.”
“This is my first time here,” I lied.
Danae frowned. “You sound like a local, though your words are a bit too polished.” When I didn’t do anything but shrug, she finally gave up. “I have some cold cuts and cheese you can have,” she told me. “Wait a minute.”
I ate in silence after she brought the food, washing it down with the beer she gave me in a small wooden cup. I was halfway through it before it occurred to me that I didn’t have any money. Glancing up, I saw Danae’s eyes on me.
She understood immediately. “Broke?” When I nodded, she sighed. “I thought as much.”
I waved my hands. “I have money, just not with me. If you can wait…”
“Forget it,” she said. “I’ve heard it all. I could tell by what you were wearing when you came in. Consider it a favor to your friend.”
It hadn’t occurred to me how shabbily I was dressed. I had returned naked, but I currently wore a somewhat used robe I had found discarded in the castle bailey. It had a number of holes in the cloth and had obviously seen better days, much like myself. After finishing my food, I sat uncomfortably for a while, wondering what I should do. Being penniless, I didn’t feel right asking for a place to sleep, but I was still loath to reveal my identity.
It was about then that the front door opened and a familiar figure stepped in, Chad Grayson. I watched as he made his way to the bar—or tried to. Danae didn’t bother walking around; she hopped over the counter and ran toward him. I thought she was going to hug him, but she stopped at the last second and slapped him so hard I thought his cheek might come off.
“I thought you might be dead!” she snapped, and while some of the crowd began to chuckle, it was obvious that she wasn’t putting on a show. Danae was as angry as I had ever seen her. I wondered what he might have done to piss off the normally easygoing barkeep.
Unsure what to say, Chad asked her, “Can I get a drink?”
She started to slap him again, but this time he caught her wrist and after a brief but awkward struggle she wound up embracing him. I couldn’t look away, fascinated by the sight, for I had never seen this side of the rough hunter. Chad’s neck bowed and he rested his chin on her shoulder. “It’s over,” he said simply. “I killed the bastard.”
Danae started struggling again, fighting his embrace so she could punish him some more. When he refused to let go, she relaxed. “Jackass. Who cares about that? He could have killed you.”
The scene went on for a while, and I forced my eyes back to the bar, though there really wasn’t anything to look at. Then I heard her tell him, “One of your friends is here.”
Sure enough, he was looking at me, and as our eyes met, I saw him frown, suspicion showing in his expression. Chad’s hand was close to the knife at his waist when he walked over. “And who might you be?” he asked.
“An old drinking buddy,” I answered. “You probably don’t remember me, especially not looking like…” I stopped talking since he had drawn his knife and was holding it below the edge of the bar, barely a half-inch from my midsection.
“I can smell lies,” he growled softly, “and you stink of them. Try something else before I lose my patience.”
Whether he meant that figuratively or whether the dragon-bond had truly given him such an ability, I didn’t know, and I wasn’t about to ask. I might have laughed at the situation if I hadn’t believed him. Wouldn’t that be ironic? I thought. To survive everything and wind up stabbed to death by one of my closest friends. The enchanted blade I had given him could go straight through my shield, and I didn’t feel like fighting.
Instead I said the first thing that entered my mind, the truest and deepest reason I had for living. “I have children,” I told him, “and I really am your friend.”
His face changed, and the knife vanished. Chad recognized my voice, but there was still uncertainty in him. “Mort?” he asked softly.
I put a finger to my lips. “There’s an illusion disguising me.”
Chad looked away in disgust and since he didn’t yet have a drink, he took the tankard of a man standing nearby at the bar, downing it in a single long draught. The other man looked angry for a moment, but once he realized who had taken his beer, he changed his mind about taking offense and moved away. Chad glared at me. “I’m so fucking sick of magic.” Then he asked, “If you’re alive, why aren’t you at home? Everyone back there was losing their minds when I left.”
“You’ve seen them?” I demanded. “Are they alright? How did you get here?” The questions began tumbling out of me faster than I could talk.
He held up his hands to try and slow me down. “Yours are fine. Cyhan and Elaine are dead. Dorian showed up somehow, and now they’re all upset about him as well as you. George and Alyssa are all kinds of fucked up and Rose is just as bad. It’s like you and Dorian died on the same day.”
“Why did you come here?” I asked. “You should be with them.”
His drink had finally arrived, a glass of McDaniel’s finest, and he downed it quickly. With a grimace that had nothing to do with the whiskey, he answered, “I had my reasons.” Changing the subject, he returned to his previous question. “The real question is why are you here?”
“I’m too tired to fly and none of the circles are working,” I explained. “What happened to Elaine and Cyhan?”
A refill had arrived, but Chad shoved it toward me. “Drink this. You’ll need it.”
I wasn’t in the mood to drink, but I did as he asked rather than argue. Once the burn subsided, I did find the tension in my shoulders easing. I refused a second one, and he finally got down to relaying what he had seen. His story took a while, even though he kept his words to a minimum. He said almost nothing about his time in Iverly, aside from mentioning that he had found Rose there. Instead he focused on his meeting with George and their eventual ambush.
“The boy nearly got himself killed, but he saved my ass,” said Chad. “They put some sort of fog in the air, which kept me from seeing a lot of what happened. When George saw what they did to Elaine, it just broke him.
“It cleared up for a while after that, but I waited. I knew that son of a bitch wasn’t finished.” Chad paused and took another drink under Danae’s watchful eye. “Even though I was watching, it happened so fast it took me a few seconds to realize what was happening. That bastard came out of nowhere and he cut Myra apart faster than you could blink.”
It came out so casually that I almost choked. “He what?”
He put up his hands. “Slow down. She’s fine. I found out afterward that it wasn’t really her, just another trick your kids threw together.” Chad made a sour face. “Fucking magic. I wish Cyhan had been as lucky.
“Everything went to shit after that. The dragons were coming down, and one of ‘em was smashing rocks into their snouts. That crazy bitch George met went after Gram and Alyssa, I think. There was too much going on to see everything that was happening. Another woman went straight for the ones who had you trapped in that box, but Cyhan got in her way.
“He was already half-dead, but she took him the rest of the way…” His voice cracked suddenly, and he put his head down. When he spoke again, I couldn’t see his face. “I shoul
d have been faster. It should have been me. The big man had something to live for, me—I don’t even deserve to be here.”
What could I say to that? “He wasn’t exactly a man of virtue either,” I put in.
Chad looked up. His eyes were red and swollen, his face made ugly by grief. “He was a man of honor at least, and he didn’t kill half as many as I have. At least the men he killed knew it was him. Three-quarters of the ones I’ve done in didn’t even know they were about to die, much less who did it. And what did they tell the widows? ‘Hey, Ted died this morning. He was really brave, just sittin’ there, then some asshole put an arrow through his throat.’”
Danae’s eyes met mine. Neither of us knew what to say. After a while I broke the silence, “What are you going to do now?”
Chad gave me a sick smile. “Drink myself to death if I can steal the cellar key from that wench over there,” he answered, glancing at Danae.
“I’ll be damned before you do!” she snapped back. I thought it was a casual phrase at first, but she leaned forward and grabbed the front of his shirt before leaning in to plant an embarrassingly sloppy kiss on his lips. Whistles went up from some of the patrons around the room.
The hunter sat back when she released him, then looked around the room before looking back at her. “I thought we were keeping that between friends,” he said quietly. “Everyone in the room saw that.”
“Like I give a damn,” she spat back.
Chad sighed. “You’re still young, lass. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you. You don’t—”
“I’m over forty, you ass!” she snapped back.
He looked confused for a moment, probably because she had been in her late twenties when he had first met her. “There’s no way,” he began.
“I’ve spent my best years watching this godforsaken bar,” she added. “Watching you and every other drunk in town come through the doors. So, don’t give me any of your shit about my age or what I’ll do with my life.” When he started to reply, she held up a finger. “From now on you drink with me or you don’t drink at all, understand?”
Transcendence and Rebellion Page 40
