Fatal Heir

by L. C. Ireland

  He simply said, “Take it.”

  And he let himself fall.

  “You killed him, too,” Alaudrin said.

  I didn’t realize my mouth was hanging open until I consciously forced myself to close it. My cheeks were wet with tears.

  “No,” I whispered. Was I simply denying it because I couldn’t face the truth, or did I actually have a point? I glared at Alaudrin, hating him for showing me these things. “I didn’t kill Rath. You did.”

  Alaudrin actually flinched, just slightly. His brow furrowed. He clearly didn’t like that I had contradicted him. Apparently, he was used to a quick victory in his twisted games.

  “Very well,” he said at last. “But let’s take a look at all the others you have killed, shall we?” I wanted to say no. I wanted to turn and run, to hide my face, but I was afraid any movement would send me toppling over the edge. I was mesmerized by the images in the pool.

  I witnessed a younger me shaking hands with old, sickly Mr. Hatcher after I volunteered to collect his chicken eggs while he was confined to his bed. He died later that day.

  “That’s not fair,” I complained. “I was a child. I didn’t know to avoid the dying.”

  I shouldn’t have said anything. The liquid swirled, golds and silvers, and the images grew worse. I saw my brother Tan again. I saw the footman I had touched, I saw the Imposter with a knife in his chest. I saw Zarra. I watched as I commanded her body to defend me. My heart ached. I saw Canron and the soldiers who had died with him. And then I saw my deadmen army attacking the people I might have ruled. I saw them die. I felt it in my bones. I swooned in horror.

  Alaudrin wasn’t done.

  Mel was next.

  I saw her through my own eyes. This was a memory I had never experienced.

  “I know I can’t restore your faith,” Mel said. “I can’t make you believe that anything matters.”

  But it did matter. It mattered so much. I leaned closer to her image, aching all over. These were the last words I had never heard.

  Mel looked at me. I knew this was only a memory, but I felt like she was looking all the way through time and space, right at me. I heard her last words for the first time.

  “I love you, Don. So much. I wish that my love alone was enough to save you.”

  And then Alaudrin rocked the bowl, and I fell.

  I threw my weight forward with all my might. Desperately, I grasped the edge of the bowl and caught myself. I had barely managed to keep from falling into the nothingness around me. This was a trick Zarra had taught me once, to use my lack of balance to my advantage.

  “Pity,” Alaudrin harrumphed in disappointment. “I grow tired of your pathetic life.”

  “Maybe it’s time we looked at yours.” I suggested, grunting as I struggled to haul myself up over the edge.

  “Oh, Donald, that’s not how this works. It’s not my body we’re fighting for.” I was beginning to understand the rules of this game, and everything that was at stake.

  “Besides,” Alaudrin continued, “you would be wasting your time.” He chuckled. “I never made mistakes. However do you think I became a seraph?”

  “Everyone makes mistakes.” I strained to slowly pull my chin up over the lip of the bowl.

  “Oh, but no one makes as many mistakes as you, my boy.” Alaudrin jerked the bowl again, and I gasped, clinging so I wouldn’t fall. “Just think of all the people who would be happier if you had never lived.”

  It was like Alaudrin had control of my mind as well as the bowl. Automatically, I started listing all the people I could think of who had been hurt by my foolish, hopeless life. Their images flashed over the surface of the liquid so rapidly they started to blur together. Maybe I should just let go. The liquid in the bowl began to froth around the image of Mel.

  And then I remembered the last time our eyes had met. I remembered the confidence and the love I had seen in her eyes before she punched Alaudrin in the face. I would not let her sacrifice be in vain.

  I could hear Alaudrin laughing as I slipped. The gold light tugged at me, trying to pull me down or tear me apart. I knew somehow that if I let go of this ledge, I would lose far more than my body, than my life. I would lose everything.

  But I wasn’t the only one in danger. Alaudrin was surrounded by darkness just as I was surrounded by light. And though he had started our match as if he had all the time in the world, he was growing impatient. This showdown was different than any other. The sys swirled around Alaudrin’s ankles now, and the vala around mine. Either one of us could lose this game.

  “No!” I said.

  Summoning all of my strength, I clambered onto the rim of the bowl and sat on my bottom, gripping the sides. It would be harder to upset me this time.

  “Still fighting?” Alaudrin asked, sounding bored. “What have you possibly got left to fight for?”

  “Everything,” I said.

  The images in the bowl changed. I saw my mother, the queen, sickly and haunted, but glowing with pride as she announced the impending birth of her second child. I saw my father scoop her into his arms and swing her around.

  I saw the first moment my mother was allowed to love me, moments before her death. I felt the pain and the ache of what could have been. I saw the love in my father’s eyes as he wished for my safety instead of his.

  I saw the time I intervened as my brother Ken tried to use an ax for the first time. I saw the night I sat by my mum’s side as she struggled through a fever, and the time I tracked down my sister when she’d been missing for days. I saw the time I dove back into icy water to save Jagger.

  The images in the liquid showed me the exhausted faces of little Aleksander and his nursemaid as we pulled them from the overturned carriage. I saw King Safford’s surprise when I saved his life by taking out the Imposter. I saw Zarra’s lopsided smile. I saw Rath sitting by the fire, gazing upward at the star-filled sky.

  “I could save this world,” he had said once.

  Somehow, I made it to my feet.

  “I have everything to live for.” I raised my voice, trying to fill this wretched void with the power of my convictions. “Rath wanted to save the world, and that’s what I’m going to do. And I’m going to start by getting rid of the thing that was killing it in the first place.” I pointed accusingly at Alaudrin. “You may have never made any mistakes in your memory, Alaudrin, but you have just made the biggest mistake of your existence right now.”

  “Oh?” Alaudrin raised an eyebrow. “And what, pray tell, was that great mistake?”

  “You challenged me,” I said. I waved my hand over the space between us and the liquid — my soul, my essence, my memories — rose into the air and splashed over Alaudrin, knocking him off the rim of the bowl and washing him away into the sys that consumed him.

  The Gates were more beautiful than I ever could have imagined. The frame was all delicate, twisted metal carved with words in a language I didn’t recognize and yet, somehow, inherently understood. The words told the story of the creation of the world, of elements and energy, of vala and sys. I could have stared at it forever if I only had the time.

  Within the majestic arched frame hung a curtain of thin, wispy fabric, layered a thousand times so the view of the land beyond was obscured. Every part of me longed to pass through the Gate to the world beyond the veil. I imagined the curtain to be soft as a whisper. I reached out my hand to touch it.

  “Stop.”

  The voice startled me. I hadn’t noticed the presence of another. She stood in the midst of the curtain, a hazy silhouette among the wispy fabric.

  “It is not your time,” the woman continued. “There is work yet for you to do in your world. You must not touch the Gates.”

  I drew my hand back.

  “Are you the Gatekeeper?” I asked.

  She laughed. The sound reminded me of the little brook that gurgled past the cottage where I had lived in Hazeldown. It felt like an eternity ago that I had lived there.

  “I am no
t,” she said. “I was a human in your world once, long ago. I was the last spirit to cross through these Gates before the path was forgotten. My memories, bound to the circlet you wear, have guided you here.”

  Startled, I touched my forehead. I was still wearing the circlet, slightly askew since I had shoved it on with such haste. Hers was the voice I had heard when I first put it on.

  The woman said, “I was the last reaper. Banash the Insurgent foolishly destroyed my kind, not realizing how essential we are to the Gatekeeper’s plan. Without the reapers, no spirit in the last eight hundred winters has made it to the Gates of Heaven. These spirits wander the earth, bringing chaos and despair. Only the reapers can rescue them and guide them safely home.

  “By the time Banash realized her folly, it was too late. I set a curse on her, denying her the blessing of death. She has lived since that day, working tirelessly to reverse the effects of the genocide she committed.

  “Banash worked with your mother for many winters, preparing her to meet me here one day and ascend as a reaper. But your mother fell victim to corrupted spirits that sapped her strength and tainted her soul. Those same spirits would have claimed you as well, if not for the sacrifice of Meleya Holstead.”

  Mel.

  “Now you stand before me, Izayik Delaren, as the only hope for mankind. You alone possess the skills and the sys to take on the role of a reaper. You can save this dying world and begin a new generation of reapers. You may choose this fate, or you may reject it.”

  “What happens if I reject it?” I asked.

  “Then I will allow you to pass through the Gates. Nothing in your world will change, and the spirits trapped there will eventually all be lost.”

  Well, that was an easy decision.

  “What do I need to do?” I asked.

  “To accomplish this work,” the woman in the curtain said, “you will need an epoch. Hold the circlet in your hands, Izayik.”

  I hesitated. Would all of this beauty and peace disappear when I took the circlet off? Was I dreaming of this wondrous place, under some spell that would dissipate when the circlet was removed? I took a shaky breath and gently untangled the delicate circlet from my hair. I held it out toward the curtain.

  The Last Reaper waved her hand in a fluid circular motion as if she was wiping morning mist from a window pane. White sand lifted from the ground around me. It joined the circlet in my palms, and together, they swirled in the air, glowing with a silver light that took my breath away. When the light dimmed, I saw that the circlet had been transformed into a stunning hourglass.

  “This is called an epoch. It will lead you to the souls who most need your guidance.”

  I turned the epoch over in my hands. The white sand inside it floated freely regardless of which way I turned the hourglass. Each bulb was the size of my fist, with dainty silver detailing on the arms. Just like the circlet it had once been, the hourglass was set with small diamonds that caught the light with glinting winks.

  “There is much work to be done,” The Last Reaper said. “So many spirits wander lost on the soils of your world.

  “You will not age, and you will not fall to illness. But be wary: you are not immortal. You can be killed. The tie binding you to your world can be cut by corrupted spirits. You can die of your own foolishness. Once that tie is cut, you will pass through the Gates like any normal spirit. There is no going back. Be careful, Izayik. The world must always have a reaper. Without you, the world will once again fall to darkness. You truly are the Prince of Death.”

  I released the epoch. It swung downward on its silver chain and came to rest against my leg. “I guess I am,” I said.

  “May the Gatekeeper guard you,” The Last Reaper said. “Now, return to your world and claim your wings.”

  I understood why Rath had screamed with such agony when Alaudrin took his body. Growing wings hurt a lot. It felt a little like jumping off my pa’s barn, climbing to my feet, and running twice around Hazeldown with knives stuck in my back. My vision blurred, and my hearing played tricks on me, too loud and then too quiet.

  I fell onto my face. The excruciating throbs slowly abated as I took deep, shaky breaths. I dug my fingers into the ground and sobbed. The muscles on my back were tender. When I tried to stretch them, my wings opened unevenly, awkwardly fanning black feathers behind me. Relief flooded through me when the wings opened fully. I took a deep breath, afraid to move and incite more pain. If I relaxed the muscles, the wings lay flat against my back. When I tensed them, they opened again.

  I heard voices. Not far from me, a group of Jinee gathered around Banash. A couple of the Jinee helped Banash sit upright and then guided her to her feet. I heard Banash quietly explaining to them what had happened.

  Alaudrin had fallen from the rim. Was he gone completely, or had he retreated into Rath’s body?

  Rath.

  He lay prone on the ground before me, barely visible beneath his many wings. Moving my arms felt like a special form of torture for my sore back, but I ignored the pain and scrambled over to him.

  “Rath,” I said. “Are you in there? Are you alive?” I didn’t know if I could touch him. What if this was Alaudrin, about to rip me to shreds? But it could be Rath. If it was Rath, would my touch kill him? Was he hurt? If his back hurt anywhere near as bad as mine did, one touch from me would probably send him screaming through the Gates.

  “Ooouucchhh,” Rath moaned.

  “Are you Alaudrin?” I asked.

  “What?” Rath held his head. “Do I look like a seraph to you?”

  Well, yes. He did.

  “I don’t know how to tell you this, Rath,” I said, “but you’ve got some new, uh— You’ve got a little something—” I flapped my wrist vaguely over my shoulder.

  Rath finally opened his eyes. He brushed the long white feathers of his own wings out of his face and gaped at mine.

  “You have wings,” he said.

  “I noticed,” I snorted. “You have six.”

  “Whaaaaat?!” Rath reached over his shoulder, touched his wings, flinched, reached behind his back another way, flinched, smacked himself in the face with the end of one wing, and flinched. Soon he was squirming like a lunatic. He kept saying, “What? What? What?”

  I was so happy that he was alive I thought I would burst. I seized him in a bear hug, which hurt us both, but not in the way I had expected. There was no burning pain when we touched, other than our sore backs screaming for mercy.

  “You don’t hurt me!” I gasped with glee.

  “You hurt me,” Rath groaned.

  I squished his cheeks between my hands. “You’re alive! I’m so happy you’re alive. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything.”

  Rath wriggled away from me, shoving my hands off of him. “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m sorry that I made your life miserable. I’m so sorry. Alaudrin showed me all of the things I did to you, all of the things that made you give up your body, and I—”

  Rath’s eyes went wide with horror. “That’s why I have wings,” he said.

  He didn’t know the true magnitude of what he’d almost done. I didn’t want to be the one to tell him. But surely, I at least owed him this. “Alaudrin took your body and sort of tried to enslave humanity,” I said.

  “Oh.” Rath looked down at his hands. “I thought I was … I thought I was doing the right thing.”

  “You made a mistake,” I said.

  Rath shook his head, remembering. “Banash tried to warn me, but I was so sure I was right.” He dragged his hands down his cheeks. “Alaudrin was filled with such hatred and malice, and I set that loose on the whole world.”

  “Rath, listen to me.” I put my hands on Rath’s arms. He flinched, expecting the burning sensation. But just like before, it never came. “I know you feel lost, Rath,” I said, repeating what he had once said to me. “You feel like you’ve made such a big mistake that you’ll never recover from it. But one mistake won’t define you. You’re bigger th
an this. You can do great things, Rath. I mean, look at you. You’ve got wings and everything. Not bad for someone as old as dirt.”

  “Ha,” Rath said flatly. There were tears in his eyes.

  The Jinee noticed us then. They crowded around Rath, as enamored with him as they were with Banash. They exclaimed in delight at the sight of his wings. They fell to their knees before him. I was pushed out of the way and had to dance backward to avoid getting stepped on. Apparently, in this new form, I was invisible to the living.

  “No, no, that won’t be necessary,” Rath said, clearly uncomfortable at all the groveling. “I’m not really a seraph,” he explained.

  “Yes, Rath, you are.” Banash stepped through the crowd of Jinee and placed her hand on Rath’s shoulder. “Hurathschein-Ki is your seraph now, the first of a new generation. With his help, we will rid this world of the deadmen at last.”

  The crowd of Jinee erupted into cheers.

  Banash’s eyes found me. I was surprised that she could see me, though I really shouldn’t have been.

  “Thank you,” she mouthed silently.

  I nodded.

  I skirted around the crowd until I found Mel. She lay where she had fallen when I blasted her off of me. She was likely dead, again, but I had to be sure.

  She lay still as, well, a rock. I knelt beside her and folded my wings against my back. The statue looked exactly like Mel, only now she was completely gray-ish white, just like the marble pillars her golem body had been formed from. She looked peaceful and asleep.

  “Mel,” I sighed. I supposed this would have to do as a final goodbye. It was pathetic, and insufficient, but it was all I could do. I had already killed her once.

  Her face twitched.

  “Mel?”

  Mel’s eyes opened. The gold was gone. Her eyes were now entirely white, just like the rest of her. She gazed up at me, blinked her stone eyes, and said, “Don? Do you have wings?”