by Keith Walter
“Fine,” Charles stated. He dipped deeper into his magic, and it responded immediately. He might not be confident in using spells, but there were more than enough things he could do with his hands to even the odds. The armored general was already in Charles’s face throwing punches. When he titled his head to avoid a fist, he saw a black tendril stab out the side and try to give him a free lobotomy.
He knew he couldn’t stay on the defensive forever. Whatever Kene had done to his armor, it was sure to hold more traps and secrets than he’d be able to counter. Still, there were things the armor didn’t change. The biggest being Kene’s dislike for actual hand-to-hand combat. Reeling back to avoid another fist, Charles dropped to the ground. Kene was overreaching in his excitement, and Charles kicked the legs out from under him.
On cue, the general continued to try and strike. Spikes rocketed from the armor but Charles merely sidestepped as his enemy fell to the sand. Years of training and conflict had drilled the basics into Charles. Always defend when you are off balance, and attack with intent. Kene’s flailing resulted in an opening and Charles wasted no time exploiting it. Pulling both hands into a fist above his head, he swung a heavy blow into the general’s back.
The armor splintered and cracked as Kene was driven into the sand. Charles pulled back bloody fists, noting tiny spikes sticking out the back of the armor. “Screw it,” he announced before plowing an elbow into the prone man. Blood flew, but he healed before the next strike. It just wasn’t doing enough damage. The wooden armor cracked, but would reform before he could strike again. Suddenly, a pillar of sand launched Kene into the sky and Charles was thrown back.
Kene righted himself and stood in the air. He looked at his hands and flexed the thorny gloves. He smiled when he realized his armor was no worse for wear. “Admit it, Charleton, you long for that power once more. The power to judge right and wrong. The power to crush those who oppose you.”
Charles waited on the ground, unwilling to join him in the air so soon. “Power isn’t everything,” he replied.
“Just the only thing,” Kene added with a raised finger. “I remember when it happened.” His eyes widened with insane intensity. “I remember the first time I was made to feel fear.” He calmed quickly, continuing, “But look at you now.”
“Yeah,” Charles challenged, “and look at you.”
Kene scrunched his eyebrows in confusion before a fiery explosion erupted from his back, knocking him from the air. The general lay face down for a moment, and a gaping hole could be seen in his armor, his tanned skin shining through. “Clever,” his voice called. The hole in his armor was swarmed over by black tendrils and he rose to his feet. “But not nearly enough,” he added with a shake of his head.
Red runes glowed on the general’s legs and he increased his speed. Charles couldn’t follow him and tried to anticipate the attack, only to have a fist slam into the back of his head. Before he could hit the ground, a foot was lodged in his sternum and the force of the kick launched him into the sky. He tried pushing out his senses, to catch Kene’s location, but the general was too fast. In mid-flight, Charles received another kick to his kidney and a punch to his right temple. He pushed a burst of magic around his body, and just in time, as a wooden blade was deflected from entering his heart.
Kene rode Charles to the ground. The blade from his elbow was all the way through Charles’s shoulder. Kene pushed on the wind to increase their speed, seeming to revel in the cracks of bone when he landed on Charles’s back. He pulled the blade through the pierced shoulder and stood up lazily.
“You and Alastair always preoccupied yourselves with what others thought of you,” Kene began politely. “In the end, the only thing that ever matters is power. Power forces others to recognize you,” he kicked Charles’s side, forcing him to roll over. “To respect you,” he stomped Charles’s face, watching a spurt of blood from the man’s nose. “To fear you.” He raised one arm, and a two-foot blade sprung out the wrist. He brought the blade down at incredible speeds, cutting through the air so fast it caught fire on the way down.
Charles closed his eyes and brought his hands up to block, but knew it was useless. When he felt no stabbing sensation in his chest, he peeked open on eye. A furious Kene was struggling to pull the blade from glasslike honeycombs. He could feel Grace berate him in his mind and he turned to catch her eyes. She still held one hand to the lake, a wall of water obscuring the Entregon. Her other hand was now held up the same, but pointed at Kene. He didn’t need her screaming in his thoughts to notice her anger, it was plain as day on her face.
“You fear the same thing he does,” she yelled across the beach.
Kene finally succeeded in wrestling his blade from Grace’s shields and turned to the blonde interloper. “Stay out of this, woman.” He pushed magic into the blade and swung again as he turned. He cut through the shield, but Charles had already leapt back to his feet. “You cannot win this, Charleton,” Kene spoke darkly. “Give yourself up, and I promise their deaths will be swift. I will end them here, and not force them into the hands of mind ravagers.”
Charles kept his guard up, but pondered the general’s words. He stared into Kene’s eyes, a question on his lips. “What is it you fear, Kene?”
The general’s eyes hardened, and his back stiffened. “I am Grand General now. I fear nothing.”
That was lie. A child could see it. But it took Charles looking within himself to realize the truth. “You’ve always treated me differently. But not as some pet or wild animal. You didn’t like anyone that might be stronger than you.” He smiled sadly as he realized what Grace meant. “You don’t fear the power I used in that battle—you feared me even before.”
“I fear nothing!” Kene lashed out with his blade, but again Grace caught him with her shields.
“I suppose,” Charles admitted, “it’s time to find out.” Taking a step back, Charles reached into the depths of his soul. Grace was right, both about Kene and himself. This power was overwhelming and dangerous. He was afraid of what it could do, of what it had done. But a light glowed in his mind, and he felt Grace join him. You are not that person any longer, she whispered. Trust me if you cannot trust yourself.
Kene reared back and filled his fist with magic. Black tendrils added razor-sharp spikes over his knuckles. His smile widened as his fist edged closer and closer to Charles’s forehead. He would knock the man’s head clean off if he could. And suddenly, it stopped. Confused, he looked at his stationary fist, finding five white fingers holding him fast. He blinked and saw Charles’s eyes open, boring into his own. “How?” he asked in confusion.
“A little help,” Charles replied before throwing off the general’s fist. Tendons snapped taut as energy and muscle drove Charles’s fist forward at lightning speed. The resulting shock wave swept from the tip of his fist and thundered into the general, cracking and splintering the wooden armor. Black spikes and blades sprang out to defend, but Charles was undeterred. Faster and faster, he threw punch after punch, driving the general across the beach. As the cracks increased, he hit harder and harder.
Before Kene had time to react, his armor had been reduced to kindling. Unrelenting, Charles continued his assault on the general’s body. Each hit was infused with magic, creating bruises that didn’t want to heal. The general tried to defend with his arms, but they were shattered from twenty blows of unseen speed. He coughed as the air was driven from his lungs, and red flowed with it.
Kene was down, but Charles didn’t care. He wanted to break every bone in the man’s body. He wanted to imprint on Kene’s soul the pain he had caused countless others. He barely registered the red from the man’s mouth with each punch. Stop, he heard the angelic voice in his head. Stop, it repeated sadly. Confused, Charles ceased his assault. It took a moment to recognize Kene, so bloodied and broken. He hardly remembered doing it now. Appalled, he stepped back. His eyes searched the beach until they landed on the tearful face of his love. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. Forci
ng his thoughts to her mind, he added, Thank you.
Kene rolled on his side, spitting out blood. His magic was already trying to repair the damage, but it was slow going. Still, he regarded Charles with disdain. “Weak. Even when you are strong, you will always be weak. You had this strength in you all along, but you waste your breath philosophizing.” He spit red once more before adding, “You disgrace me with an apology.”
“I can handle being weak,” Charles replied somberly. “I think I actually prefer it.” Lowering himself to one knee, Charles held a hand over his one-time friend. “You’ll be okay in a few days, though I don’t think you’ll be in any shape to be chasing me down for a while longer.” He smiled apologetically. “I know this offends you, but I’m sorry it had to end up this way.” Charles stood, turned around, and walked slowly toward his friends.
“Do not turn your back on me Charles!” Kene yelled. “You think you have won so easily that I have nothing left?” A surge of power emanated from the general, and he raised a glowing hand toward Charles. “You may survive this, but I can assure you your friends will not be so lucky.”
Charles was on him in an instant. The glowing ball in Kene’s hand was crushed under Charles’s fist. With his other hand, Charles lifted the general up by his collar. “Is Grand General of the Union armies so petty?” he asked harshly. He placed the general down, allowing him to stand on shaky legs. “I’m not going to kill you, Kene, and you don’t have the strength to make me.” He eyed the general seriously. “Death is the easy way out.”
Kene’s eyes grew wild. “You will never understand. You will never understand what it is to live in your shadow.”
Charles dropped his eyes, trying to think of the words to explain that he did know. He knew exactly what it was to live in the shadow of what he used to be. “I’m—” but he never had the chance to try. A massive build-up of magic let loose from the lake. Grace’s wall of water barely slowed the churning ball of doom. Time slowed, and Charles spread his arms wide, casting out a barrier to block those behind from the massive explosion.
◆◆◆
Grace found herself at a loss. She had been holding her mother’s attacks at bay easily, but the last blast tore through her shields as if they weren’t even there. If her mother had been able to do that all along, why the bombardment of useless attacks? Her mother was never wasteful with her magic. Grace mentally reached out, relieved that her newfound connection with Charles was still working. She couldn’t sense him through the blast, but could feel his frustration and anger well up.
She was almost surprised to realize how little he was injured. The shot breaking through her shields was concentrated and massively powerful. Briefly, she considered that her mother may have missed Charles, but such a mistake seemed an impossibility. How then? Grace stretched out her senses again, and was immediately bombarded with a mass of conflicting information and directions. She pulled back, realizing her connection with Charles was causing her to spread awareness from his location as well as her own. This new bond was more complicated than she originally thought. Focusing on her own body as the source, she tried again.
There was a fading light not far from Charles. She hadn’t taken much time to register the feel of the general’s power, but even as it faded it was clearly not like the rest of the fey on the beach. She felt in horror as it disappeared completely. The general was dead. Realization dawned on Grace and she turned to the water. Her mother had completely stopped her bombardment, and Grace dropped the wall of water angrily.
“Why, Mother?” Grace screamed across the lake. “He was your ally!” After the struggle Charles had overcome to quell his lust for revenge, the general was still dead.
A soft voice floated across the water, filling Grace’s ears like a song. “Oh, no,” Entregon feigned concern. “It appears your pet used the general as a shield. Quite a stain on the general’s reputation to be manhandled so easily.”
“He did not!” Grace yelled. “They were talking, he didn’t have to die. I know that you know.”
“Oh, child,” the voice soothed, “I am merely telling you what the Union is going to believe. His toy soldiers ran away the moment your pet’s identity became clear. When they find the general’s body, the only answers they will have are from me.” There was a pause, Grace crying out in frustration, before the voice spoke again. “The body is still there, is it not? I thought I was rather careful about that.”
Grace fell to her knees. “No one had to die.”
“Had to?” Entregon’s voice asked whimsically. “You have not had to put up with him for the past day. Besides, he will not be missed. He was nothing but the Union’s pawn—enticed with offers of titles they would never have given, doing the dirty work those bloated schemers find too distasteful to do themselves.” A light wind brushed Grace’s hair back like soft fingers. “You cry over a fool that would have killed you had he the strength.”
Grace pulled herself to her feet, eyes blazing. “Should I not then cry over you, who did murder me?”
Sweet laughter filled the air, loud enough that the Grace threw her hands over her ears to block it out. The rage burned brighter within Grace. “It seems I did not, Daughter.”
“Don’t call me that!” Grace erupted. “I am no daughter of a heartless murderer like you!”
Entregon giggled, a pleasant and yet frightening sound. “You are my daughter whether you like it or not. And as for heartless…not anymore.”
A hand involuntarily covered Grace’s mouth as she gasped. Years of unspoken words and unexplained expressions crashed down. An entire life of feeling like she could never understand her mother now finally made sense. And yet, it opened a hole where her heart should be, a nothingness threatening to swallow a love she couldn’t help. “Is that…is that all I’ve been to you? Just a way to replace what you lost?”
“Child, I have never lied to you,” Entregon’s voice wafted over the water, serious and sincere. “I would have given it back if you had proven your maturity. I admit my need for a heart played a part in your birth, but it changed the moment I looked upon you.”
Despite the situation, warmth spread through Grace. She wasn’t sure what she would have done if her mother had said otherwise. Her thoughts were interrupted as a rough hand landed on her shoulder. She turned, but already knew who it was. She would never be able to mistake Charles now. “Talking to your mother, I take it?” he asked, anger visible in his eyes.
Grace only then realized her mother had been speaking directly into her mind. “Yes,” she admitted. “She killed him.”
“I figured,” Charles added, staring out over the water to the great ship waiting patiently. “I’d like to have words with her about that,” he mused, cracking his knuckles with the distinct intent to do more than just talk.
“Wait,” Grace demanded, covering Charles hand with her own. She focused on her mother, speaking slowly, “The Union knows what we are capable of now. Those bloated schemers, as you call them, will be forced to get off their thrones if they plan to stop us. We will be long gone by the time that happens. You have no loyalty to the Union, clearly, so stand aside.”
“No.” The word hit like a physical force.
“What do you want from me?” Grace pleaded.
Grace heard a long sigh as her mother seemed almost bored by the question. “I told you before, you have not shown that you are ready to live on your own. Do not think just because you made this new spell with your toy soldier that you are changed. If anything, it only makes you more reliant on others. Until that time when you prove you are capable of standing on your own, I have no choice but to keep you close.”
“I don’t need you!” Grace cried.
“Say what you will, child,” Entregon replied, “but you will go nowhere without going through me.”
When Grace fell silent, Charles grew worried. He couldn’t hear what the Entregon was saying, but it didn’t take a mind-reader to figure out it wasn’t good. He moved behind Grace an
d squeezed the muscles between her neck and shoulders. “What’s the story?” he asked cautiously.
Shaken from her despair, Grace gathered her courage. She leaned back into Charles’s chest, savoring the warmth momentarily. She then pushed his hands away and stepped forward, toward the waves. “Gather everyone. We’re leaving.”
“She’s letting us go?” Charles asked, perplexed. With his strength renewed and a smoldering dislike for the Entregon, he almost wished he’d get the chance to hit her.
“We’re leaving,” Grace repeated through gritted teeth, ignoring the question completely. As her feet met the water, they didn’t sink. The lake reacted to her footsteps like the sand of the shore, and she simply began walking.
Charles grinned, thinking he might get his wish. In a single vaulting leap, he crossed the beach to where the captain and crew had holed up for safety. Sand sprayed outward as his heavy landing left small craters around his feet. “Captain, I hope you’re well,” he offered.
Barclay had yet to wrap his head around what he had witnessed. “What the hell just happened?” he demanded. He pointed at the dim blue glow of the rune on Charles’s chest. “What is that? How are you healed?”
“Now may not be the time for all that,” Charles admonished. “We’re getting out of here.”
Serin held up a hand to interject. “This is insane. You just walked out of the water carrying a ship. Grace just rode you from the wreckage like it didn’t even matter. You better explain something or I’m going to assume this is all in my head.”
Charles sighed in frustration. “Look, I’m not entirely sure I know what happened. Grace and I were…on the other side, sort of. And she’s, like, a spirit already, so we kind of found each other. I met some old friends. They, uh, gave me a hand.” He pointed to the hand-shaped tattoo on his chest. “And now me and Grace are…one person, sort of.”
He looked to the captain, pulling a finger down where his old scar once ran. “I’m healed in a broken sort of way. My body isn’t fighting to stay in one piece anymore, but my busted heart was replaced by…” He struggled to find words for what had happened. Shaking his head, he smiled. “Something better. Near as I can figure, I supply the energy and Grace decides what to do with it”
