by JA Andrews
They were right. He was angry because Evangeline was dying. And he loved her. He was angry because the role of Keeper didn’t feel right, but that role sat inside the deep well of knowledge that he loved.
There was more there than the anger. There was more there than the decision to save Evangeline, to create a ruby, and to turn his back on the Keepers.
No one is defined by a single choice, the Shield had said. With each day, we decided anew who we are, what we will grow toward. Alaric has chosen to be a Keeper a thousand times in a thousand ways.
A thousand times in a thousand ways. Alaric pushed away the despair. It was time to choose to be a Keeper one more time. Right now.
This time, when Alaric looked for strength to fight the influence ring, he didn’t reach for his anger. He reached for the things he loved. The things that made him who he was: Evangeline, his life as a Keeper, the queen, Ewan, Ayda, Douglon, Brandson, and Milly. He found them, a solid, indestructible foundation beneath the rushing despair of Gustav’s influence ring and beneath the fire of his own anger.
He anchored himself to that foundation. This moment was his to choose, and he would choose to follow his own mind, not Gustav’s.
The despair receded.
Alaric reached down and picked up the ruby. He almost dropped the flame in its place, but paused. He didn’t want the flame touching Mallon, either. Instead, he set it on the altar. Then, clinging to the truth that this moment was for him to choose, he stepped back out of the influence ring.
Alaric clenched the ruby to his chest until the rough edges dug into his hand. He could still feel its warmth. Her warmth. But it was so faint compared to what it had been.
Gustav was sweating and panting. He stared at the ruby in Alaric’s hand.
“Gustav,” Brandson pleaded. “Don’t do this.”
The wizard shuddered.
Alaric walked along the outer edge of the influence ring until he stood next to Ayda, close to the wizard. “Not going how you had planned? Well, you can’t stop now.”
With a shaking voice, Gustav picked up reading where he had stopped and walked the last short distance until he had gone all the way around the circle of runes.
The runes suddenly glowed a vivid blue. The Wellstone burst into light and sent a rush of scalding white energy at Mallon’s body. The flame from Alaric’s necklace remained unchanged. There was no life inside it for the spell to take. The runes on the ground grew brighter and brighter until both Ayda and Alaric stepped farther away. Gustav sank to the ground, exhausted.
“No,” Brandson said, a broken whisper.
With a sigh, Kordan’s head settled to the ground. His eyes stared lifelessly across the courtyard. Alaric felt a pang of regret, and Ayda let out a small groan.
A moment later, there was a rustle from the side of the altar, and Mallon’s legs stirred.
Ayda began to breathe furiously, and Alaric, after a glance at Gustav, who was lying senselessly on the ground, reached forward and rubbed his foot across the influence ring. The line rubbed off and the influence ring was broken.
“He’s too exhausted to keep it up,” Alaric said. Grinning, he strode across it with Ayda on his heels.
Their motion roused Gustav who cast a frightened glance at them then rushed to Mallon. The wizard shook him and started yelling for the Rivor to awaken.
With a groan, Mallon opened his black eyes and slowly turned his gaze on each of them in turn.
Douglon let out a war cry and rushed toward the Rivor, his axe raised. Mallon’s eyes narrowed, and he hissed at the dwarf. Douglon went flying backward, crashing into a heap against the keep wall.
Brandson hobbled forward a step and threw his knife at Mallon. The Rivor swatted it away and with a look, knocked Brandson flat on his back.
Ayda and Alaric paused.
Mallon focused his eyes on Gustav, then flexed his hands. A smile spread across his face. He pulled himself up, leaning on the side of the bone altar.
“Well done, servant,” he said, his voice cutting through the courtyard.
Gustav dropped into a fawning bow.
Ayda, who had begun to shake with fury, stepped forward. The Rivor’s eyes fell on her. He studied her for a moment before his grin widened even farther.
“Very well done,” Mallon murmured. “You have even brought one who holds some of my soul.”
Gustav looked in surprise at Ayda. “She what? I didn’t… um… I thought…”
“Shut up, wizard,” Ayda said, never taking her eyes off Mallon.
“Come to me, my child,” Mallon commanded. His body still leaned heavily on the altar, but his voice burned with power.
Ayda lurched forward as though on a chain. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, but her body was dragged slowly forward.
The Rivor looked at her hungrily. “Come closer. I am still weak, but the darkness you hold will change that. The darkness you have kept for me all of these years.”
Alaric looked at Ayda in fear. This was the darkness Will had warned him of. The darkness he could almost see sometimes.
“Come to me,” Mallon called to her. “I will give you power even an elf cannot imagine.”
Ayda cast a frightened look at Alaric. Her feet stepped forward again.
In desperation, Alaric held her eyes and opened his mind up to hers. He felt her presence in his mind as her gaze clung desperately to him. He saw her, standing in the Greenwood while the elves died around her. She was tiny and dim and alone.
Her eyes glazed over.
Alaric threw images at her. The image of her standing in Queen Saren’s council, defending Alaric. The moment when Douglon had told her he would die for her, lying on the ground with an arrow in his chest. The time she had held out her hand to Alaric, willing to share the story of how her people died. Ayda chatting with Milly as they walked along a road. Any image he could think of to show her she was not alone.
Ayda’s eyes refocused on Alaric, and he could see her thoughts clear. She smiled, then turned back to Mallon.
“Come!” he commanded, his voice growing harsher.
“You want your darkness back?” she asked him sweetly. “It would be my pleasure. I am tired of carrying it.”
A flicker of uncertainty crossed the Rivor’s face.
Ayda held out her hand and took a deep breath. Breathing slowly out, she formed her hand into a claw. Inside the claw, a swirl of darkness appeared surrounded by wisps of light. Tendrils of black kept slipping out, reaching between her fingers, but then the light pulled them back in. The light slowly tightened, spinning the dark into a ball of utter blackness.
Alaric could feel it pulling at him. He leaned back, pulling away from the void she was holding. A single tendril of black snaked out toward him, but just as fast, a finger of light snatched it back and trapped it in the ball.
The lights were the elves—what was left of the elves that had been trapped in Ayda.
Mallon shifted backward, his eyes widening.
Finally, Ayda looked up and smiled. “A gift from my people.”
With that, she gave the ball, engulfed by light, a nonchalant toss.
It tumbled through the air and landed next to Mallon on the altar. The Rivor drew back. He reached out to touch it, but a spark from the light whipped out at his hand, and he drew it back sharply.
“Keep him near it,” Ayda whispered.
Alaric gathered as much energy as he could in the space of a breath. Before Mallon could step back, Alaric reached his hand toward the Rivor. “Alligo!” He hissed the same spell Gustav had used to keep them rooted to the ground this morning.
Mallon froze, everything below his head locked into place. Gustav, at the very edge of the spell’s range, bent over and tugged on his feet, struggling to move them. Both of them cursed and struggled against the spell.
“That won’t last long,” Alaric said. He could already feel fractures in the spell holding Gustav’s feet.
Ayda was staring at the white l
ights wrapping the ball of darkness. “They need more power, more energy.”
Alaric looked desperately around for something, anything. There was nothing to draw from. The courtyard was stone. There wasn’t even a fire to pull energy out of. His eyes fell on the frozen flame sitting on the altar.
“Would the potential for a big fire help?” he asked, nodding toward the frozen flame sitting on the altar.
Her eyes widened and a wild grin spread across her face. She took the flame and turned back to Mallon. He was still looking uncertainly at the dark ball spinning on the altar completely enclosed in a web of light.
Ayda walked up to him and looked him squarely in the eye. She pointed to the bundle of light encasing the dark ball. “You did not destroy my people. I just want to make sure you understand that it was the elves that defeated you.” She glanced over her shoulder toward Alaric and the others. “With a little help.”
Then Ayda held the tiny crystal flame in her palm. She blew on it, setting it to quivering. It burst into a living flame.
Mallon’s eyes widened and she smiled at him.
“Everyone knows that darkness is only dark until you throw in a little light,” she said and tossed the flame at the altar. It landed on the little ball of darkness and light, spreading out and dancing over the surface.
Ayda turned and walked over to Kordan’s still body. She kissed his scaled head gently then turned toward Alaric.
Alaric stared at her for a moment. Her face was bright and easy. Nothing about her sparkled or flashed, yet she looked more alive and real than he had ever seen her.
“We should go,” she said, glancing at the flame that was spreading across the ball of darkness. “Quickly.”
Chapter 52
Alaric called to Douglon, who was stirring against the wall. The dwarf staggered over and helped Alaric drag Brandson to his feet. The three of them stumbled back toward the keep, following Ayda and Milly.
At the door of the keep, Alaric paused and looked back. The others crowded behind him, watching breathlessly.
The blackness was spreading, now covered in orange flame. The white lights that had held it in a ball were stretching out, reaching for each other and creating a web that stretched over the darkness. Mallon strained back against Alaric’s spell. He shot spell after spell at the ball, trying to destroy it, but each one was merely absorbed, swelling the size of the darkness trapped there. Gustav snapped his feet free and raced to Mallon, clutching at his arms and tugging at him, but the Rivor didn’t move.
“Gustav!” Brandson yelled, “Get away from there!”
Gustav looked toward Brandson for a moment, then went back to pulling on the Rivor.
With a rush of noise like a great wind, or a blazing fire, the ball shot out into an enormous size, enveloping Mallon, Gustav, the altar, and half of the courtyard.
The orange flame, which had been stretched almost to invisibility, flared up. The web of white lights joined with it, creating a shell of brilliant white fire. Alaric shielded his eyes from the searing brightness as a wave of heat rolled over him.
There was a low trembling in the ground. The circle of darkness and flame collapsed down with a concussion like thunder. The ground shook and debris shot out from it, pelting Alaric with pebbles and spreading a thick cloud of dust.
The earth shuddered, and the nearest wall of the courtyard trembled and collapsed. Alaric and the others lurched away from the keep, shielding their heads from the stone and rubble raining down.
The ground rumbled for several more seconds, stones continuing to fall from the keep, then slowly, everything fell silent.
No one moved for a long moment, then Alaric stepped quietly through the haze toward the place where Mallon had been. A breeze stirred the cloud of dust and revealed a gaping hole in the ground where the altar had stood. It spread halfway across the courtyard and was deeper than Alaric was tall.
There was nothing inside it but rubble. No altar, no Gustav, no Kordan, no Mallon.
Ayda stepped up next to him and beamed. She drew a deep breath and flung her arms out. “It’s gone!” she sang.
“What was that dark thing?” Milly asked.
“A piece of Mallon,” Ayda said, “He infested me with it the day my people sacrificed themselves.” She smiled impishly. “I just gave it back to him.”
“Gave it back?” Douglon asked.
Ayda smirked. “Well, I gave it back surrounded by a web of my people.”
“Your people?” Milly asked faintly.
“What was left of them,” Ayda answered. “They were very angry. And then we added some fire.” Her smile widened to a grin. “Turns out that’s a destructive combination.”
“Turns out?” Alaric asked. “You didn’t know?”
“I didn’t know for sure, but I had a suspicion. You could say that I understood the concept of what would happen.”
“However you did it, it was well done.” Douglon motioned to the crater. Then he grimaced and pulled his arm back protectively to his chest.
Ayda looked at him in exasperation. “I only left you alone for one night.” She walked up to the dwarf and grabbed his arm.
Douglon grunted but didn’t pull his arm away. “I don’t need you to fix it,” he grumbled. “It’ll be fine.”
Ayda touched the wound gently. Douglon let out a sigh of relief and Ayda patted his cheek sweetly. “Now stop getting hurt.”
“The lights around the darkness,” Milly said, still looking puzzled at the great hole in the ground, “were they…?”
Ayda sobered. “The elves have held the darkness in check for eight years. They continued to hold it until the flames destroyed the darkness.”
“And them?” Alaric asked.
“And them.”
Alaric looked at the pit, a surge of loss rolling through him. So many elves destroyed. Not that they had exactly been alive before, but the price of killing Mallon had been a heavy one. Next to him, he caught sight of Ayda’s face, blazing with pride.
“It’s all they wanted,” she said. “To destroy him. They’ve waited for too long.”
She breathed deeply again and laughed. Seeing Alaric’s sober face, she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “Don’t be so serious, Alaric. This is a good day. The best day in a very long time. We’ve won. And the only losses on our side today were those who went willingly.”
Alaric looked cautiously at Ayda. “So are all the elves… gone?”
Ayda wrinkled her nose. “No, not all of them. Just some.” Then she cocked her head slightly. “The ones that are left do seem a little more withdrawn than usual, though.”
“Perhaps they can be, now that they don’t have to hold the darkness back.”
Ayda nodded. “Perhaps. They are small and tired now.” She sighed. “And I suppose they will be bored for the rest of my life.”
Alaric smiled. “Maybe we can find some other great force of evil to fight.”
Brandson groaned quietly, and Ayda looked at him, noticing for the first time that he was slumped against the wall.
She walked quickly to Brandson and knelt down next to him.
“Can you fix it?” Milly asked, her voice breaking a little.
Ayda sat back on her heels and looked helplessly at Milly. “I’m sorry. It’s animal poison. I can heal wounds. That’s just putting things back together. But poison—poison spreads and… and things aren’t broken, they’re changed. I don’t know how to change them back.”
Brandson groaned.
Alaric walked up to Brandson and knelt across from Ayda. He gently lifted the pants Milly had cut open out of the way so that he could see the wound more clearly. There were streaks of dark red climbing up his leg and the flesh was hot.
“We need to get him some medicine,” Alaric said. “Let’s get him to his horse.”
“What are we going to do?” Douglon demanded. “Find some sort of poison doctor out here in the middle of nowhere?”
Alaric grimaced. “You alr
eady have.”
They all looked at him blankly.
“Evangeline was poisoned. What do you think I’ve been studying this whole time?”
“And you have antidotes stashed nearby?” Douglon asked.
Alaric sighed. “Let’s get Brandson to his horse. It should take less than a day to get to my castle.”
“You have a castle?” Milly asked.
Alaric smiled weakly. “Well, no one else has claimed it for over a hundred years, so yes. I have a castle.”
They just kept looking at him.
“And Evangeline is there. And all of my research on poisons.”
Then Brandson moaned and the group jumped into action. Alaric and Milly each ducked under one of Brandson’s arms, helping him walk. Douglon led the way back through the keep, shoving any large debris out of their way. They reached the room with the horses and Brandson sank into a chair.
Alaric led Beast to the doorway and cast out to see if any monsters were nearby. The explosion must have scared them off, because there were no large life forms down in the valley. Everything he felt was far off on the hills.
“The valley is relatively safe, for now. We should hurry.”
Alaric and Douglon helped Brandson claw his way up onto his horse. Douglon mounted his horse next to him and tugged and pushed the smith into a better position on his saddle.
“Sorry,” Douglon muttered gruffly, his eyes showing far more concern than his voice.
“Here,” Alaric said, moving next to Brandson. “Someone will need to ride next to him to make sure he doesn’t fall, but I think I can help him a little.”
Closing his eyes, Alaric took a deep breath and recalled spells he hadn’t tried in a year.
He found the one that he’d first tried on Evangeline. The one meant to slow the spread of the poison. It sat in his mind discarded where he had thrown it when he was furious that it couldn’t work well enough.
Taking a deep breath, he set his hand on Brandson’s leg and whispered the words he couldn’t quite bring himself to say out loud.
When he opened his eyes, everyone was looking expectantly at him. Brandson moaned again.
