The Golden Tower

by Holly Black

  “What is this?” Alex whirled around, raising his hand again. He stared in disbelief. “They’re Devoured. But why are they here? Why are you here?”

  “Anastasia,” Call called. “Strike a match!”

  Her pale eyes turned to him, her expression strange.

  Mom. You were supposed to say “Mom,” Aaron reminded him, but it was too late. Call hadn’t and now she knew he’d been lying to her.

  Everything was going wrong.

  Anastasia took a step toward Call, her eyes flashing. A gray blur flew between them — it was Havoc, who clamped his jaws down on Anastasia’s wrist. She screamed and dropped the matches. Alex sent another bolt of chaos flying at Havoc, but the wolf leaped out of the way and the black fire smashed into the wall of the tower. More stone crumbled.

  “You’re making me ruin my tower!” Alex shouted at Call. “You always ruin everything!”

  Call couldn’t deny it. More than being a Makar, that was pretty much his superpower.

  Kimiya had the matches again. In shaking hands, she pulled one out and struck it. It caught alight and then Ravan was there, flaring to life.

  She looked at her sisters and a wicked smile grew on her face.

  “Get ready,” Call said, under his breath.

  Ready, said Aaron.

  “What are you doing?” Alex shouted as the Devoured rushed toward him.

  It was like the world was collapsing in on itself. Every element colliding with chaos — the force of air, the burning heat of fire, the relentlessness of water, the powerful weight of earth. They fell on Alex with the destructive power of a thousand tornadoes ripping across fields, a thousand volcanoes erupting with a force that blackened the sky, a thousand earthquakes buckling and tearing cities apart, and a thousand floods carrying away whole towns in a froth of churning, tearing water. They were human, but not human; Call shielded his face with his hand as they savagely tore the chaos that surrounded Alex, as they were ripping off bits with their hands, oily patches of nothingness that dissolved entirely in the air.

  Alex howled a great shriek of agony that sent a bolt of fear through Call. What if they killed him? What if they destroyed his body?

  That wasn’t the plan.

  Automotones reared back his head and bellowed, then snapped his jaws toward Jasper. Jasper spun on his heel and flung fire at Automotones, blast after blast of flame that sent the metal monster reeling backward, his plates and gears glowing red with heat.

  Good to see Jasper finally got the hang of fire, said Aaron.

  Automotones staggered toward them again. The black fire of chaos had died down outside, and the mages were rushing at the tower, slamming at the closed doors below. The tower shook.

  Alex was still screaming. He tipped his head back with a howl and darkness erupted from his eyes — two long trails of blackness that shot up into the air. Kimiya was screaming her head off. Tamara was on her feet, making a shield of air to protect her.

  Alex turned his head to the side. He was surrounded by the Devoured on all sides. Black tears leaked from his eyes. He held out a hand. “Mother,” he croaked. “Mother.”

  Anastasia staggered back from him, her face a mask of horror. Alex’s face worked, and one last bolt of chaos shot from his hand. It was weak — Call could feel its weakness — but strong enough. It hit Anastasia in the chest, lifting her off her feet and dropping her to the ground, a black hole seared across the front of her chest.

  Alex went limp.

  Now, said Aaron.

  Call called on everything he’d ever learned about the soul tap and sent his concentration spinning toward Alex. He could see Alex’s soul, the glow and light of it, no longer blackened with chaos. He felt it, almost as though he held it in his hands, pulsing and sparking, wrapped around with cords of hate, ambition, and pain. Call could see the kid who had liked being popular, who liked being Master Rufus’s assistant, but who never felt like it was enough. He saw the kid who had crafted elaborate illusions out of movies, weaving in his friends and himself, always himself — as the winner, the victor, the person who got everything in the end. Call saw the part of Alex that had felt bereft when his father died, abandoned to a woman with her own agenda, her own obsession. He saw his ambition grow and bloom and twist. Saw his hatred of Call, his resentment, his desire to be the winner. Call saw all of that, saw Alex’s soul, whole and human and flawed.

  With all his strength, Call braced himself — and tried to push it out of Alex’s body.

  He felt a terrible echo in the deed. The body he lived in was stolen, and now he was stealing another. But even weak, Alex was a Makar and he fought back. He pushed, too, straining against Call’s consciousness, forcing Call’s physical body to his knees.

  You will never defeat me, Alex’s voice declared, echoing in Call’s head. For a moment, Call felt uprooted, adrift. What if because he wasn’t born into his body, it was harder to stay in? What if he couldn’t hold on, even as Aaron left him behind? Panic started to bloom in his chest. The weight of Alex pushing back shoved him flat against the ground, his elbows braced, shoulders straining.

  I can’t do this, he thought. I can’t.

  Maybe one of us couldn’t, but both of us will, came Aaron’s voice, sure and strong. He joined his thoughts to Call’s and together they surged back at Alex, thrusting him loose from the bright lines that moored his soul to his body, pushing him out. Pushing him out into nothing.

  The cords that bound Alex’s soul to his body frayed and snapped and he was gone, without even a scream or a cry. Call didn’t know where souls went — he guessed that no one did — but he was sure it was someplace far beyond the void.

  Aaron, Call thought. Aaron, you have to go.

  It was as if he could feel Aaron’s soul taking a shaking, hesitant breath. Call reached for Aaron one last time — for his counterweight, for the soul that was the most familiar in the world to him. It was as if his hands were brushing over Aaron’s soul, holding it for a moment, and letting it free.

  Alex’s body jerked once, and he took a gasping breath.

  Aaron, Call thought. Did it work?

  But there was no response. There was only an echoing silence in Call’s ears. He was alone. He hadn’t realized how unused to being truly alone in his own head he was.

  Sound smashed in as Call realized the battle had been raging on. The chaos dragon had eaten away another section of the tower. Dozens of mages had flown up to the tower’s second level, helped by Alastair and the power of air, and were joining Jasper and Tamara in battling Automotones. Greta, Lucas, and Ravan had also joined in — Greta was hurling rocks at the chaos elementals, Lucas was directing streams of superheated water at them, and Ravan was shooting bolts of fire.

  Inside the tower, Kimiya had Anastasia cradled in her lap and seemed to be trying to keep her from dying.

  Call staggered to his feet. “A-Alex?”

  Alex opened his eyes. Kimiya gasped: They had returned to being blue, no longer black and star-silvered. Coughing violently and looking dazed, Alex pushed himself up onto his knees.

  The gestures seemed familiar. He wasn’t moving like Alex did. He was moving like Aaron. He had his gestures. Call’s heart leaped into his throat. Was he imagining it, or had their plan actually worked?

  Master Rufus came racing up the stairs and burst into the room; after him came Master North and Master Milagros. They stared at the scene in front of them — Anastasia dying, the Devoured still hovering in the room, the huge chunks torn from the walls.

  And Alex, in the middle of it all.

  “Alex!” Call cried. “Alex, stop the chaos creatures. Show them you’re on our side now.”

  “Stop,” Alex shouted, in a voice that was both like his usual voice and different. “Stop, chaos creatures! I command you to stop.”

  The dragon abruptly paused its movements. Automotones roared. From outside the tower there were more echoing sounds as the chaos creatures heard him.

  “Go back to chaos!”
Alex cried. “Return to the place you came from!”

  More Masters were crowding up behind North, Rufus, and Milagros. They all stared at Alex, who stood with his hands flung out, ordering the chaos creatures to disperse.

  “They’re going,” said Milagros in amazement. “Look!”

  Through the smashed hole in the wall, Call could see the chaos creatures turn and retreat, Automotones leading the way. As they went, they seemed to shimmer and vanish, each one disappearing, leaving only smudges of darkness hanging like smoke against the sky.

  The mages of the Magisterium were cheering. Ravan, Lucas, Greta, and Alastair had disappeared, probably worried that they wouldn’t be particularly welcome now that the immediate danger was over.

  “Call. Come here.” It was Kimiya, gesturing him over urgently. Tamara was kneeling down beside her, summoning earth magic to heal Anastasia.

  Call didn’t move to stop her. Nothing was going to help Anastasia now. She smiled at him, and there was blood on her teeth. “Con,” she whispered.

  Tamara bit her lip, color flaring in her cheeks. She’d always hated it when Anastasia called Callum by Constantine Madden’s name.

  “Con,” Anastasia said again. “I know what you did. I know.”

  He reached out and took her hand, because he had never meant for her to be hurt. He’d never meant for anyone to be hurt.

  “I’m sorry,” he told her. “Really, really sorry.”

  “Sometimes, you’re nothing like my son was, nothing at all,” she said, then raised her voice. “Mages of the Magisterium, I have a final confession!”

  Alex had sunk back down onto his heels.

  “It was I who controlled Alex,” said Anastasia, and the whole room of mages stood breathless and silent, listening. “It was I who controlled everything — not Master Joseph, not Constantine Madden, me. They were all my pawns. You were all my pawns.”

  “How?” demanded Master North. “How did you do it?”

  “I learned from the best,” she said. “My son Constantine, the Enemy of Death. He kept Jericho in his thrall for years, forcing him to be his counterweight and give up pieces of his soul. When Alex first became my stepson, I began to control him. At first it was small things. Later I made him totally obedient to Master Joseph. He had no choice but to obey his commands.” She coughed, and blood sprayed across her white clothes. “Do what you like with him. I don’t care. I never loved him.”

  “Then why are you telling us this?” Master Rufus demanded.

  “I want the credit,” Anastasia croaked. “It was I who made him a Devoured, I who caused this tower to be built. The Magisterium took my son from me but in the end it served me and my desires.” She looked at Call. He forced himself to smile at her, and something in her face relaxed. “You can hurt me no more,” she said in a whisper, and her eyes fell closed, her head lolling to the side.

  Tamara cried out. Gwenda had run across the room to Jasper, and he was holding her, looking grim.

  Alex was looking at her, his face ashen. “What have I done?” he asked, which seemed like a perfectly appropriate question and one also wrenched from a place deep inside of him. Alex turned his gaze on the mages, on Master Rufus. “You should arrest me. Someone should arrest me.”

  “Wait!” Call said. “You heard Anastasia. She forced him to do all those things. She forced him to become a Devoured of chaos. You agreed to forgive him.”

  “We agreed to interview him,” Master North said. “Graves agreed to it, anyway. And thanks to him, Graves is dead.”

  Alex hung his head. Aaron, Call thought. Aaron, look at me.

  But he didn’t. And Call didn’t know whether to think of him as Alex or Aaron, didn’t know if Aaron’s soul was intact inside Alex’s body, or if Aaron was in agony, crushed by guilt or horror or a million different other things. Or maybe his soul had been shredded — maybe he was no one now, neither Alex nor Aaron.

  And then Call noticed Havoc. Havoc had crept to Alex’s side and was nosing gently at his hand, the way he’d once done to Aaron. And absently, Alex — Aaron, it had to be Aaron — reached down and stroked the wolf’s head.

  Call saw Master Rufus staring at the wolf, his eyes narrowed. Before he could say anything, Mr. and Mrs. Rajavi flew up the stairs, racing into the room to embrace Tamara and Kimiya. “You did it, my darlings,” said Mrs. Rajavi, kissing them both. “You’re heroes. I’m so proud of you.”

  Privately, Call thought Tamara deserved all the credit and Kimiya none, but he kept it to himself.

  Alastair appeared in a whirl of air, startling everyone. “The others are gone,” he said. “It seems this is finally over.”

  “As soon as they let Alex go,” Call insisted, and his father gave him a very confused look.

  Aaron — because Call was sure Alex was Aaron, absolutely sure, except that he really wished that Aaron would say something to confirm it — didn’t speak at all.

  “Enough,” said Master Rufus. “Let’s leave this tower. It can harm no one to restrain … Alex. We will keep his hands bound until he has stood trial before the Assembly.”

  “We will take Anastasia’s body to the Collegium to prepare it for burial,” said Master Cameron, one of the mages Call recognized from his brief visit to the Collegium during his Bronze Year.

  Rufus nodded. It was clear everyone was now looking to him as they once had to Graves. “Once we’re sure no one else is badly hurt, we can proceed to deciding what we’re going to do with Alex.”

  “How come you’re acting as though you’re in charge?” Master North, who didn’t seem to have gotten the memo, demanded.

  “I’ve been asked to join the Assembly and I’ve agreed. For a long time, I wanted to stay distant from the mage world. It’s not easy to be best known for teaching one of our great enemies. But this time I’ve said yes.” Master Rufus looked grave. “Now can we get these students to safety? They’ve risked enough for us.”

  Call tried to say something to Aaron, but Master North was already levitating him in the air. Tamara reached out her hand to Aaron as well, but he went by without reacting. Call’s and Tamara’s eyes met, the same question in both of them.

  Was Aaron in there — and if he was, was he okay?

  THE TRIP BACK to the Magisterium was a blur. Call found himself hurried into the infirmary, then wrapped in blankets by Master Amaranth. Tamara and Jasper were enfolded in their own blankets beside him. The news came that Anastasia had been pronounced dead, which Call had already known. Still, the words felt stark.

  Gwenda came in and hugged them all. She brought Rafe and Kai with her and they hugged Jasper a lot and high-fived Tamara and Call. They reported that the school was celebrating and everyone was acting like they’d never been suspicious of Call at all. Since Kai and Rafe were also acting like they themselves had never been suspicious of Call, he could believe it.

  Alastair came in to say that he, Greta, Lucas, and Ravan were getting out of the Magisterium before they wound up locked up with Alex. He’d had Master Rufus’s promise that some kind of better system for dealing with the Devoured was going to be worked out at the upcoming meeting, but until then they were going to make themselves scarce.

  “I’ll see you once you’ve graduated,” Alastair promised Call. “Don’t worry about me, either. I need to get back home and make sure the house and all my things are dealt with properly.”

  They paused awkwardly for a moment. Alastair reached down to touch Call’s cheek. It felt like a brush of air. “I’m so sorry,” Call blurted. “Because of me, this happened. Because of me, you’re a Devoured of air, and you’ll never fix up cars again or go to the movies —”

  “I’ll go to the movies,” Alastair said gently. “I’ll drift around in the back. I won’t have to pay to get in!”

  “You know what I mean,” said Call.

  “Listen, Call. All my life I wished I’d been able to do more. More to defeat the Enemy of Death. More to avenge Sarah. And I’ve realized now, that feeling is gon
e, like I’ve finally been able to put it to bed. I’ve finally been able to do enough.”

  “By destroying Alex?” Call said.

  “By raising you,” said Alastair. “You’re a good person, Call, and a fighter. And a heck of a mage.” His eyes shone. “I can’t tell you how worth it it’s all been.”

  Call felt his heart lift. He almost asked Alastair when they were going to head home together, but Master Amaranth was giving them a sharp look for talking. Alastair winked and disappeared.

  Call sighed. “Master Amaranth? I was wondering if I could go rest in my room. I’m not in pain, but I am really tired.”

  Master Amaranth regarded him suspiciously. He guessed that she had a lot of kids either trying to get in or out of her office. Her snake, coiled like a stole over her shoulders, flashed between sky blue and yellow. “If you really feel you should, Callum. If you feel at all dizzy or faint, come back immediately.”

  “Can I go with him?” Tamara said, standing up and shrugging off her blanket.

  Master Amaranth threw up her hands. “I suppose so. After all, who am I to delay the heroes of the Magisterium with a little thing like making sure they’re well?”

  Jasper had looked ready to ask to go, too, until Gwenda had come in to the infirmary and hugged all of them. Then, all of a sudden, he’d seemed to develop a pain in his leg that required Gwenda to sit by his bed and tell him how brave he’d been.

  Call escaped into the hall, Tamara behind him.

  “We’re going to see Aaron, right?” she asked.

  He nodded. “If we can get down there. We don’t have the key anymore.”

  “Warren led us there once,” Tamara said, and proceeded to call to the little lizard. “Waaaaarrrrrren, where are you? The time is actually over. We did it. It’s over. But we need your help one last time.”

  A tongue snapped down from the ceiling, smacking Tamara in the nose and causing her to rub it vigorously. “Gross!” she yelled. “That’s disgusting, Warren.”