Fire & Chasm

by Chelsea M. Campbell

  “In the morning. Hours from now. Who did this to you?”

  “A friend.”

  He raises an eyebrow as he grabs a bag from the floor and starts rummaging through it.

  “A former friend,” I correct myself.

  He pulls out a jar from the bag and untwists the lid. The slimy salve inside is dark brown, almost black. A foul, burning smell fills the room. “This will sting.”

  This time I do jerk my hand away from him. And it hurts—it hurts so much and I’m so tired, so much more than I realized—but he’s going to make it hurt worse. Some part of me is screaming that he’s going to torture me. He’s going to use whatever that salve is to inflict more pain, until there’s so much of it that I’m not me anymore. That I’ll do anything he says to make it stop. Some part of me thinks I was stupid for coming here tonight.

  “No,” I tell him, scrambling to sit up and get my bearings. I’m already reaching for the knife, the one that isn’t there. It’s still back in my room, and now I’m here, weaponless, helpless, just like Endeil predicted. This isn’t what he meant, and I know Hadrin’s trying to help. But I don’t have to let Endeil touch me again, and I don’t have to let a wizard do it, either.

  Hadrin holds up his hands in surrender, backing off. “My daughter bleeds from your wounds. Or have you forgotten?”

  “Give it to me—I’ll do it,” I tell him, motioning for him to set down the jar.

  “Rub the salve into the cut. It will clean it out and help stop the bleeding. But it’s not going to be pleasant. And don’t look at me that way, boy, as if I enjoy seeing you hurt. I don’t.”

  I watch his face closely, noting every muscle twitch, deciding whether or not he means it. Endeil said the same thing, and I didn’t believe him. Coming here tonight, wounded and unarmed, might not have been a good idea. And yet, I believe Hadrin when he says he doesn’t want to hurt me.

  I must have lost more blood than I thought.

  Hadrin pulls his desk chair out, as if to sit down, then turns and paces across the room instead. “So,” he says. “You want to tell me why you practically knocked down my door in the middle of the night?”

  The burning smell coming from the jar is starting to make my eyes water and my nose run, and I hesitate before touching the dark ooze inside. “You said you needed my help. You said I’d—” I wince, the salve stinging as I spread it on my palm. “Look, it’s not like I think I should side with wizards or anything. But Endeil’s crazy, and I can’t be his apprentice. He wants to hurt people, and he wants me to help him do it. You said I could make a difference, when war breaks out.”

  “What I said was you’d be the deciding factor.”

  “So if I side with you, then Endeil loses, right?” What Endeil’s doing will hurt a lot of people. It will corrupt them, the way it did Rathe. And maybe I wouldn’t be too sorry if the High Priest succeeded in destroying all the wizards, but the way he’s doing it is wrong.

  Hadrin’s expression is half concerned, half skeptical. “It would mean getting your memories back, Azeril.”

  I swallow. “Right.”

  He puts two fingers to his forehead, as if he has a headache, and bites his lip. “I shouldn’t have asked you to do this. You don’t understand what you’d be giving up.”

  But I do. I remember the glimpse of my past I saw when Endeil dug into my head. The dark room with the chair, the screaming. There must be more memories like that—years of torture, maybe a whole lifetime’s worth—and how could the weight of them do anything but crush me? If I do this, any chance of being the boy instead of the monster will be gone. And yet . . .

  My hands are shaking. I tell myself it’s just exhaustion. “You said it would redeem me from my sins.”

  He shuts his eyes, looking pained. “I’m a foolish old man who believes in the fairy tale of making up for his past mistakes. You shouldn’t listen to me.”

  “Can you stop Endeil without me? I know why you need my spells. Leora told me where they come from, and . . . Endeil looked inside my head. I let him—I had to—and he saw something. He said he touched something divine. But I don’t think it was divine so much as unholy. His new powers come from the Chasm, the same as mine. It’s my fault he has them, and now I’m the only one who can fix it.”

  “You should forget I ever came here and asked you to do this. You should just run, while you have the chance.”

  “Endeil wants to destroy all the wizards. He thinks he’s some kind of chosen one. He’s going to give people powers from the Chasm. Even if he doesn’t have me there to help, I don’t think that will stop him. We can’t let him win. No matter what this does to me, we can’t—” I pause. “Leora doesn’t know, but he’s the one who nearly killed her. Who stabbed her in cold blood and left her for dead.”

  Hadrin looks up, his eyes wide. “I’ll kill him.”

  “No, I will. I said I’d make him burn, and I meant it. And if I don’t do this, more people are going to get hurt.”

  “Including you. I know what I said, about redemption, but you don’t deserve this. You don’t understand what it means to remember all the horrible things that we . . . Take it from someone who does remember and don’t do this.”

  “Fine, then. Tell me who you’re going to get to defeat Endeil instead, and I’ll pretend I never saw you.”

  He opens his mouth, as if to protest. But then he closes it again and shakes his head. “There’s no one. You know that.”

  “Great. So then tell me. How do I get my memories back?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  I think Leora’s going to hit me when I finally get back to my room. She’s waiting there for me—she let herself in—pacing back and forth. Her eyes are red and lined with tears, though she’s not crying. She’s in her pink nightgown, wearing a white robe over it. Or what was a white robe before it was stained with blood. Big red smears run down the side and across the front.

  “Where have you been?!” she demands, marching over to me as soon as I open the door. Relief flashes in her eyes as she sees that I’m still alive. Then her eyebrows furrow and her nose scrunches up in anger. Her shoulders shake, and she balls her hands into fists.

  “Leora—”

  “Don’t.” She takes a step back, away from me. “Don’t come anywhere near me, Az. Not until you tell me what in the Chasm happened to you! To both of us.” Her eyes flick to her right hand. It’s not injured, not like mine, but she bled from it just the same.

  “I ran into trouble, but . . . I’m all right now.” I uncurl my fingers, showing her my palm where I let Hadrin bandage it up.

  “You weren’t in the infirmary. I checked. And I don’t know what’s going on, but I know what happened when my father hit you. My mouth bled, too, and then something like this happens and you don’t think to come tell me you’re all right?! Didn’t you think I’d want to know?”

  “I didn’t know what you’d want. Not from me. Not now that you know what I am.”

  “You can’t really think I don’t care what happens to you.”

  I shrug. “One minute you loved me. We were together. Then the next you find out I’m . . . That there’s all this dark stuff inside me that I don’t even remember, and then you don’t want anything to do with me.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “You were afraid of me, when you found out what I am. Admit it.”

  “No. I’m not afraid of you, Az. I never was. Just for you.”

  “For me? What does that even mean? If you know something I don’t—”

  But she shakes her head, dismissing the idea. She hugs herself, some of her rage leaving her, so now she just looks cold and alone. “Maybe I’ve been unfair to you this past week, ever since I found out. But I needed some time to think. When my hand started bleeding, all I could think about was you. The same questions kept running in my mind, over and over. What was happening to you? Were you okay? I don’t care where you came from or what happened to you in your past. You’re right—you don’t eve
n remember that stuff—and it’s who you are now that matters. You’re still my best friend, you’re still the same person who’s been there for me whenever I needed you. Nothing changed when I found out the truth. I just thought it did. But I was wrong.”

  A warm feeling spreads through my chest. Like maybe, just for a moment, we could pretend that none of the bad things ever happened. Things can go back to how they were. But a little tendril of guilt snakes its way through me when I think about what she said. You don’t even remember that stuff. And I don’t. At least, not yet.

  “Leora, there’s something I have to—”

  She kisses me, her mouth soft and warm against mine. My words trail off, forgotten.

  “I was afraid,” she whispers, kissing my jaw, my nose, my eyebrow—as if she can’t get enough of me. As if she’s worried someone else will walk in and drop another horrible secret on us and ruin this. “I thought I’d lose you, that who you are meant something terrible would happen to you, but you don’t even know those spells. So you can’t. It won’t.”

  “Can’t what—” I shiver as she runs the tip of her tongue down my neck. Hot and fast, making me tingle all over. I half sigh, half groan, and pull her to me, so we’re pressed up against each other. As close as we can get.

  Well, almost.

  “Your clothes,” Leora murmurs. “They’re covered in blood.”

  “Yours, too.”

  “So take them off.”

  My whole body feels warm and hazy. On fire and alive. I take off my belt, then pull my red robes over my head and toss them on the floor. An altar boy no more. She shrugs off the white night-robe, leaving her in just her thin pink sleeping gown.

  And I’m pushing her down to the bed, not even waiting for her to take it off, I want her so badly. I hate that we’ve spent so many days apart. She slides her hands down my hips, practically tearing my underwear off. I pull hers down, and she wriggles out of them.

  The wound in my hand is throbbing again. Sharp and hurting. But I don’t care.

  Being with her is like touching obsidian. My blood burns, and I can hardly think. All I know is that I want her. Here, now, in my bed. As much as the knife wants flesh.

  There’s no hesitation this time, no soft murmurings and tracing of scars, only a deep, all-encompassing hunger. Some primal desperation that can’t be ignored. She brings her knees up around my hips, spreading herself before me, and we both gasp when I press into her, our bodies interlocking. She grabs my face with both hands and pulls me down to her, kissing me hard. Her breathing’s heavy as her whole body arches against mine. We move together, over and over—frantic, impatient. And like with the knife, there’s a euphoria. A sweet, sharp pleasure that rips through me, only so much better. Leora’s fingers dig into my back, her nails biting into my skin.

  And then it’s over, both of us tired and panting. It’s only now that I realize my hand started bleeding again. That hers did, too.

  “We could have been doing that for years,” Leora murmurs. She grins. “You should have fallen in love with me sooner.”

  I smile back. “I did.”

  She notices the fresh blood on her hand. She swears and sits up, but it’s me she looks at with concern. “That looks bad.”

  “It’s fine. I’ll have it looked at in the morning.”

  “It’s morning now.”

  “You know what I mean.” Hadrin said it would need stitches. It feels hot, inflamed. I curl my fingers up and try not to think about how long it might be before I can hold the knife again. How long I’ll be helpless, just like Endeil said.

  “Okay. But you’re going to tell me what happened.”

  “It’s a long story. One that involves me doing something I shouldn’t have.” Like listening to Endeil and hurting a friend. I lick my lips, my mind already racing, wondering how much to tell her.

  “Yeah, well, in case you haven’t noticed,” she says, “I’m not going anywhere. So spill it.”

  “I will. I promise. But, before that . . .” I take a deep breath, remembering what Hadrin told me. About how I can get my memories back. About how it involves Leora. “I need to ask you for a favor. And . . . you’re not going to like it.”

  Leora gapes at me after I finish telling her Hadrin’s plan. About the upcoming war and my part in it. And hers. She presses her palms to her forehead.

  “Say something,” I whisper, hating the tense silence that’s filled the room.

  “I just got you back,” she says. “And now you want me to . . . I must have heard you wrong, Az, because you couldn’t have asked that.”

  “I don’t want you to unlock my memories. I need you to. I—”

  “I’ve only ever unlocked doors before, Az. Physical, mechanical locks. Not a mind. Not . . . not this.”

  “Hadrin said you could do it, that it’s the only way.”

  “My father said it was the only way, and you believe him?”

  “Does it matter if there’s another way? If this will work, then—”

  “Of course it matters!” She shakes her head and draws the blankets up around her, as if they can protect her from this. “You think I want to be responsible for ruining you?”

  “You won’t lose me, Leora. I love you—I’ll always love you—no matter what happens.”

  “If you get your memories back, then who will you be?” A tear slides down her cheek, and she quickly wipes it away. “It will change you, Az. You know it will. So don’t sit there making promises to me you won’t be able to keep.”

  I slip my fingers between hers, locking our hands together. “I don’t know who I’ll be, but I do know there’s going to be a war. And that people are going to die.”

  “So you’re going to get your memories back, and all those spells, and become a super weapon for the wizards? You’re an altar boy.”

  “Endeil looked into my head. Into the darkness. He took something from it, and now he’s got this new power, straight from the Chasm. He’s going to spread it to everyone he can. He’s not going to rest until he’s wiped out all the wizards and given unholy magic to everyone else. The spells inside my head are my only chance to stop him and make things right.”

  “Your spells kill people,” Leora says, her voice quiet. “They take so much energy that they actually kill people.”

  “I’ll be careful.”

  “They’ll kill you.” She bites her lip. Another tear falls, but she makes no move to wipe it away this time. “You don’t know how to control the spells. You didn’t then and you won’t now.”

  She doesn’t know that. “I wouldn’t ask you to do this if it wasn’t so important. I wouldn’t risk losing you, or . . . myself . . . if I had any other choice.”

  “You could walk away. It doesn’t have to be you—”

  “But it does. You know it does.”

  “I know.” She squeezes my hand. “And that’s why I’m going to do it. Just . . . don’t think I like being part of this. And don’t think that if you’re not you anymore, or if you die . . . don’t think that’s not going to break my heart. But that’s love, isn’t it?” She smiles through her tears, the corners of her mouth wobbling. “I would break my own heart for you, Az. That’s how much I love you. And I know you would do the same for me.”

  “A thousand times.”

  She nods, her shoulders shaking.

  “I wish I didn’t have to ask this,” I tell her. “If there was any other way . . .”

  “But you do and there isn’t. So I’ll do it, because you asked me to. Because it’s that important to you. But not yet. Right now you’re going to put your arms around me, and we’re going to lie here like two normal people whose lives aren’t about to be shattered. Like just another couple who have everything still ahead of them. I’m going to lean against you and feel your heart beating and know you love me. And I’m going to remember this moment for the rest of my life. You and me. No matter what happens.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  I leave my red robes beh
ind when we go to the inn, not intending to return. I dress in black, the same as when I went to meet Hadrin at the Silver Hound. Or maybe because I feel like I’m going to my own funeral.

  Hadrin paces the room, wringing his hands and looking pale.

  “Maybe you shouldn’t be here,” I tell him, sounding a lot calmer than I feel. I sit down on the edge of the bed—which is even softer than it looks—next to Leora. She has her hands on her knees and takes deep breaths.

  Hadrin’s gaze flicks over to the obsidian at my waist. “You had to bring that?”

  “Yeah, I did.” I’m never going back, and I couldn’t leave it behind. I feel vulnerable enough as it is. I hold up my right hand, fresh bandages covering the stitches they gave me at the infirmary. I told them it was an accident, self-inflicted, though I don’t think they believed me. “Why? You afraid I’m going to use it?”

  He glances at Leora. “Yes,” he says. “Get rid of it.”

  “I’m not going to—”

  “Get rid of it, or this doesn’t happen.”

  “He’s not going to hurt me,” Leora says.

  But I get up and drop the knife into the desk drawer. Maybe I wasn’t going to hurt anyone with it, but just knowing it was there, that I could graze my fingers along the hilt and feel that familiar rush at any time . . . It made this situation and what’s about to happen seem almost doable. Without it, I feel alone, but I take a step back, letting Hadrin lock it up.

  Leora’s watching me, and I know that I’m not alone. I sit down again and slip my hand into hers.

  “Will it hurt?” she asks. “When I . . . If it hurts, tell me and I’ll stop.”

  I nod, even though I have no intention of stopping her. We’ve come too far for that.

  Hadrin’s still pacing, looking more nervous than ever. “As soon as it’s done,” he says, nodding at Leora, “you get out of here.”

  She glares at him. “I’m staying. You know that.”

  “Besides,” I say to Hadrin, “you’re the one I made the promise to.” I don’t mention it was the promise to kill him. I don’t need to. “So maybe you’re the one who should go.”