by T. J. Klune
I smiled weakly. “What can I say? I’ll try anything.”
“Make your choice now, apprentice. Your dragons cannot save you. Your friends aren’t here. Your beloved is at death’s door. Randall is hiding away in his castle of ice. And Morgan can’t be bothered to even know his apprentice is—”
“You always did try and speak for me,” a voice said mildly.
Myrin closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He let it out slowly. When he opened his eyes again, they were alight with something I couldn’t quite make out, but it almost looked like fear.
“Brother,” he said quietly as he turned. “Quiet as a mouse, you are.”
Morgan of Shadows stood in the entryway, looking calm and relaxed, robes billowing slightly. I didn’t know how long he’d been standing there, but I knew he’d cataloged everything in the room in mere seconds. Ruv, standing near the fireplace and looking suddenly unsure. Ryan, skin slick with sweat, his breath rattling in his chest. Myself, standing in a circle of dragon’s blood, more furious than I’d ever been.
And Myrin, of course. He seemed to only have eyes for Myrin.
“You were distracted,” Morgan told him. “You tend to be when you’re fully involved in your work. That hasn’t changed.”
“Nostalgia,” Myrin said. “That’s what you’re going for?”
Morgan shrugged. “Merely an observation.”
“Morgan,” I said, voice cracking. “You gotta help Ryan. Please, you need to get him away from here.”
Morgan glanced at me over Myrin’s shoulder. “Are you all right?”
I shook my head. “Don’t worry about me. Please. Just help him. He can’t—”
“Why are you here?” Myrin asked, head cocked. “Why are there no others with you? And how did you know he was here?”
“Questions,” Morgan said, lips quirking the smallest amount. “You always did ask questions. If there were answers you didn’t know, it would frustrate you to no end. And you would doggedly pursue those answers until you were satisfied. How strange is it that after everything, these little pieces of you remain.”
“You cannot speak to me as if I am the man I once was,” Myrin said, hands curling into fists at his sides. “You made sure that part of me died a long, long time ago.”
“I know,” Morgan said. “And I will regret to the end of my days not allowing you to pass beyond the veil. It was my cowardice that held on to the hope that one day, we could find a way to…. Well. It doesn’t matter now.”
“You regret not killing me?” Myrin sounded shocked.
“I regret not having the strength to do what I needed to do,” Morgan corrected gently. “If I had, we would not be here. I had hope. But I should have realized that you did not. And to answer your questions, I am here because Sam is my apprentice. I know all the steps he has taken. There was something just off about that page, though I could never put my finger on why I felt that way. But I learned long ago to trust my senses. You do not have much time, Myrin. You have entered the City of Lockes with ill intent. The King’s map will soon sound warning of your trespass.”
“The King’s map,” Myrin scoffed. “Elven magic. It is unreliable. It will show danger in the City, but how accurate can it be? The knights will scour Lockes, but by the time they find this house, it will be over.”
“Will it? And I assume you mean that you’ll have consumed Sam’s magic.”
“Let’s not remind him about that,” I said hastily. “Maybe we can just talk about something else instead.”
They both ignored me. “Yes,” Myrin said. “I will. And then Lockes will fall. The Darks will pour from the forest and Verania will be brought to its knees. Its people will look upon me as I tower above them, and they will beg for me to save them. And I will be kind to them, because the most loyal of animals are the ones that you have not raised your hand to.”
Morgan nodded as if that was what he expected. “There is one minor problem with that.”
“And that is?”
“I won’t let you have him.”
“No?”
“No.”
“I thought not.”
Morgan was moving even before Myrin finished speaking. He clapped his hands in front of his chest, and the house around us trembled at the strength of him. The sound of his hands striking was like thunder, and even as he pulled them apart, even as his magic roared throughout the room, Myrin countered, hands raised and glowing rust red, like dried blood. His fingers were curled like claws, and as Morgan’s arms stretched wide, a bright bubble spreading from the center of his chest—the containment—Myrin answered with a bright flash of light that smashed against Morgan’s magic. It collided with the bubble and ricocheted with a disastrous clang, the shock wave knocking Ruv off his feet, head smacking against the crumbling stone of the fireplace. He collapsed to the ground and stayed there.
Myrin’s magic bounced against the wall where Ryan was still pinned, causing the wood to break apart. Ryan slid to the floor, collapsing against the wall, the sword falling out of him, the flat of the blade landing on his legs. His head and shoulders slumped forward.
Dust and debris swirled around the room as the bubble expanded to encapsulate Myrin and Morgan. They stood facing each other, just out of reach. Morgan’s hands were stretched out in front of him, and they were shaking.
Myrin reached up and touched the curve of the bubble around them. It looked as if it shocked him, as he pulled away quickly, little ripples stretching along the bubble.
“Containment,” he said quietly. “I never thought—you surprise me, little brother. Even now, even after all this time. You used this on me once before. You were younger then. And it wouldn’t have held had it not been for Randall.”
“I have learned much in your absence,” Morgan said through gritted teeth. Sweat dripped down his forehead as his fingers trembled. “I am not the apprentice I once was.”
“No,” Myrin said. “I suppose you are not. But nor am I. You understand that?”
“Yes.”
“You have contained me, Morgan. The problem is that you have contained yourself as well.”
Morgan shook his head. “I have kept you from him.”
Myrin laughed. “Perhaps. But once I am finished with you, I will go to him. He is trapped, just as you are.”
Morgan smiled sadly. “You have forgotten, Myrin. The strength of a wizard is not in his magic, but those that believe in him. Those that will stand at his side, even when all seems lost. And that, Myrin, that belief is stronger than any magic.”
Myrin took a step back. “You speak of—” He turned in time to see Ryan pick his sword up from his lap, the hilt gripped tightly. He crossed it over his chest and, with what seemed to be the last of his strength, flung it upward. It spun in two full circles before the blade struck the ceiling, sinking into the wood painted with dragon’s blood.
The seal broke.
There was green.
There was gold.
And I was angry.
I stepped out of the circle.
Myrin’s eyes widened.
Ryan smiled a bloody smile. “Surprise, mothercracker.” His eyes closed and did not reopen.
“Sam,” Morgan said. “You must listen.”
Magic was rushing over me.
“You cannot let this consume you. You cannot let him consume you.”
The floor cracked beneath my feet.
“Take your cornerstone. Flee this place. Live to fight another day.”
I reached Morgan’s bubble. And as I took another step forward… it pushed me away.
I blinked through the haze, mind clearing. “Let me in.”
“He won’t do that,” Myrin said, sounding awed. “He won’t take the risk.” He turned back toward his brother. “Truly? This is what you’ve decided? You know once done, I will be unstoppable.”
“I think you will find yourself surprised,” Morgan said. “You always did underestimate those you thought beneath you. It was never about magic, Myrin.
”
“Love,” Myrin said disdainfully. “You still believe in love. It can do nothing to stop me. I accept your offer.” He glanced back over his shoulder at me. “Run, little apprentice. But know I will come for you.”
And then he turned back toward Morgan.
He raised his hands.
I said, “No. Don’t do this. Please don’t do this.”
Myrin’s hands touched Morgan’s. Their fingers intertwined.
The rust red began to spread to Morgan.
I tried to push against Morgan’s shield, the containment that surrounded them, but it was like I could smell Ryan’s spilled blood, like I could hear the tripping, stuttering beat of his heart. That, combined with Morgan’s strength, even as the rust spread up his arms, held me back. Lightning began to arc through the room, crawling along the edges of the bubble.
I wanted death.
I wanted to kill.
The rust reached his shoulders and began to spread down through his torso.
“Let me in!” I screamed at him.
Morgan smiled at me.
He said, “Do you remember the day I came to your house for the first time? You stood in your room with such wide eyes. I loved you, Sam of Wilds. Even then. Remember that when the world seems dark. Remember that you have always been loved. You need to run.”
And then he was consumed.
His eyes rolled back in his head.
Time seemed to slow around us, and for a moment, all the world held its breath.
Morgan exhaled, a bright spark drifting from his mouth.
It hung between the two brothers.
And then Myrin inhaled, mouth open, teeth bared.
I prayed to the gods.
They didn’t answer.
Myrin closed his mouth around the spark.
The bubble began to flicker as Myrin’s head rocked back, the cords standing out on his neck as he started to seize. He dropped his brother’s hands, and it took an age for Morgan of Shadows to fall to the floor, skin ashy and pale, eyes blank and unseeing.
Another crack sounded in the room, and suddenly Randall was standing in front of me, hands on my shoulders, shaking me furiously. I managed to look up at him.
He said, “I will do what I can, but he will be stronger than me. You must do what is right, Sam of Wilds. You must do what is necessary, even if your heart is breaking.”
And he was turning then, rushing toward where Myrin stood, the seizures slowing, the magic once again building. He dove toward Myrin, and as Myrin turned his head to look at me, Randall collided with him. There was a sharp flash of light, and they were gone.
The only sounds were the creaking of the crumbling house around us.
Ruv lay upon the floor, groaning, though he didn’t open his eyes.
Ryan had fallen to his side, a pool of blood spreading underneath him.
Morgan stared up at the ceiling, eyes glassy and unblinking.
I waited for him to take a breath.
He did not.
“Morgan?” I whispered.
Chapter 23: Stone Crumbles
I STOOD in front of the Great Doors that led to the throne room in Castle Lockes, willing myself to push them open.
I couldn’t find the strength.
I stood there for a long time.
Pete came, eventually, out a side door to my left.
“Sam?” he said quietly. “They’re waiting for you.”
“I know,” I said, still staring at the doors.
I felt his hand on my shoulder. I didn’t shrug him off. “Do you need more time?”
“I don’t deserve it.”
“What? What don’t you deserve?”
“To be here.”
I could hear the frown in his voice. “Sam, of course you do. He…. Out of everyone in the world, you deserve it the most. He would want you here, Sam. I know it.”
“Randall? Is he…?”
“No, Sam. He isn’t. We…. No one knows where he is. He hasn’t—I’m sure he’s fine. He’ll be back when he can. You’ll see.”
I nodded tightly, staring at my hands pressed flat against the doors. They were smooth and warm against my fingers.
“Do you remember that day in the alley?” Pete asked me quietly. “When you turned the boys to stone.”
I swallowed thickly. “Yeah.”
“I was walking by his side when we left. Do you know what he told me?”
I shook my head.
“I’ll never forget it. He said, ‘That boy is going to do great things, Pete. You mark my words. He is going to do great things.’ Out of all the years I’d known him, never once had I ever heard him speak about someone like that. And Sam, he was smiling when he said it, a smile that I’d never seen on his face before. But I would see it again and again and again for years to come, because that smile was meant for only you. He loved you, Sam. More than anything else in this world.”
I hung my head between my hands, staring down at the nicest robes I owned, blinking rapidly, trying to calm my aching heart.
“So you will do this,” Pete said, not unkindly. “Because even if you don’t think you deserve it, he does. For all the things he’s done for Verania, he deserves the one he loved the most being at his side.”
I nodded.
“Okay. That’s good. This isn’t the end, Sam.”
“Then why does it feel like it is?”
He shook his head. “Take another moment. But give him the respect he’s owed.”
Pete squeezed my shoulder again before he walked back toward the side door. He opened it, and I heard the murmuring of a crowd before he closed it behind himself and left me alone once again.
The star dragon whispered in my head, a memory like a knife wound.
A warning. All of you will not survive until the end. There will be loss, Sam. And it will burn like nothing has ever burned before. You must remember to keep in the light, even when the dark begins to curl around your feet.
I pushed open the doors.
They groaned as they parted.
The thousands of people who stood in the throne room fell silent, turning toward me.
For a brief moment, I thought of running.
Instead, I stepped into the throne room.
I held my head high.
My shoulders squared.
I would not break.
Not in front of them.
There were tears on some of the faces around me.
Others refused to look at me.
Still others stared with open hostility.
They whispered, He did this.
All his fault.
The gods chose him, but they chose wrong.
All his fault.
How could the gods be so wrong?
All his fault.
He is not strong enough.
ALL HIS FAULT.
I pushed those voices away.
Mom and Dad were waiting for me near the front, at the bottom of the raised dais. They hugged me at the same time, and I stood stiffly, trying to focus on the feeling of them against me, nodding at their whispered words of strength and love.
Gary and Tiggy were next. Gary’s lip was trembling, and Tiggy’s eyes were wide and solemn, and I wanted to tell them how sorry I was, that I should have been better than I was.
Gary hung his head over my shoulder.
Tiggy kissed my forehead.
Pete nodded at me as I passed him by.
The doors to the rear of the throne room were open wide, and Kevin hunkered down on the other side, head pushed through. His eyes never left me. For a moment I thought they flickered completely black, and felt a strange pull in my heart, but then it was gone.
Justin stood on the dais, dressed like the king he would one day be.
He raised his hand and clutched my wrist.
I wrapped my fingers around his.
“I promise you,” he said quietly, “I will do everything in my power to help you. Best friends 5eva. Okay?”
/> I took in a shuddering breath.
He let me go.
My King broke decorum and hugged me tightly against his massive chest. The crowd murmured behind us, but we ignored them. His chin rested atop my head as I sagged against him.
“I know your heart is breaking,” he whispered to me. “But you have my word that I will help you pick up the pieces and put it back together. It may not fit together as it once did, but it will hold. This is my promise to you as your King.”
He pulled away only to cup my face in his hands. He leaned forward and kissed my forehead before stepping back.
Which left only the last.
There, upon a raised slab of stone, lay the body of the greatest wizard the world had ever known.
Morgan of Shadows.
His eyes were closed, and his hands were clasped on his chest.
His robes were bright and blue.
On his feet were pink shoes whose ends curled up.
His beard had been brushed and cleaned, little flowers braided into it.
He looked as if he were sleeping, and if it weren’t for his pale skin, I thought I could have convinced myself of exactly that.
But I knew better.
I stood next to the stone slab, my back to the people of Verania.
Vadoma’s vision had been wrong this whole time.
I’d always thought it’d be Ryan Foxheart lying before me, sword clasped to his chest.
As I stood above my mentor, I tried to remember if she’d ever explicitly said my cornerstone would be the one who died.
I didn’t even know if the visions she’d given me had been her own or if Ruv had played a part in them.
I didn’t know that it mattered.
Not now.
I bent over Morgan, pressing a kiss against his forehead. I ignored the single tear that fell from my eye and splashed on his cheek.
And for a moment, I thought of the bird.
It would be so easy.
I could have done it.
It whispered in my head.
Somehow, I pushed it away.
I whispered, “I’m sorry.”
I stood back up.
I took my place next to my King, eyes dry, jaw set.
Good King Anthony of Verania spoke of many things that day. He told his subjects of meeting Morgan for the first time, how nervous he had been, only to find that Morgan had accidentally ingested the spores from a Bentati mushroom that very morning and was actively tripping balls. They’d shaken hands, and then Morgan had so eloquently pointed out the colorful smoke that seemed to be pouring out the King’s nostrils.
