The Flame in the Mist

by Kit Grindstaff

  Then she saw that the other end of the beam had landed on Drudge’s legs.

  “No!” Jemma scrambled to where he lay and grabbed his hand. Digby was there too, struggling to remove the beam, but it was too heavy. He knelt next to Drudge, biting his lips. Flora, Simon, and Tiny, standing behind their brother, clung nervously to one another.

  “No pain.” Drudge patted Digby’s knee, then turned to Jemma. “Rime,” he said. “Finishshsh.”

  Si ti neto di od nise … Wom styn ob nege … The Rime instantly unscrambled in Jemma’s head. She tried to speak, but couldn’t.

  “Ssssay!” He stroked her hand. “Mussst … mean it …”

  “It is done … It is done.…” The words felt empty. “I can’t. Not now …”

  “Then sssoon. Loud. Promisss!”

  Jemma nodded. “I promise,” she whispered.

  “Gooood! My work … over …” Drudge smiled, his cracked old voice becoming soft and clear. “One … more tasssk … Farewell, Jmmmaaah …” He closed his eyes and breathed his last.

  Jemma lay across his chest and sobbed. To have lost him now—just when everything he had waited for had come to pass! Why couldn’t he have lived to enjoy it? After three hundred years!

  Meant to be. Noodle and Pie nudged her cheeks. You’ll see.

  Then Jemma felt the oddest sensation, as if liquid air were flowing through her from below. She looked up. Light was shining from Drudge’s body, separating from it, rising, and as it rose, Saeweldar began dividing again into thousands of orbs. She, Digby, and the triplets stared, awe-struck, as the orbs followed Drudge’s light-form upward until it stopped just below the vaults. Then two bright new globes shimmered through the broken wall, glinting pink and blue rays around the room as they spun toward the others, as if magnetized by them.

  “The two that Shade killed,” Jemma murmured. “Drudge is taking them too.…”

  There was a flash; all the orbs merged again into one brilliant sphere, and with a final swoosh, vanished through the ceiling.

  A shaft of dawn angled onto the spot where Drudge’s body, now empty of his spirit, lay. He had gone.

  “Jemma … Flamehead …” Nox groaned, coming back to consciousness. She looked at him, trapped under the other end of the beam, his arms outstretched where he had pushed her.

  “You saved me,” she said. “Why?”

  “Feo …” His face was tight with agony. “Didn’t want you to die too. I always loved you, you know.”

  Jemma reached over and took his hand. “We’ll get you out, somehow.”

  Nox laughed softly. “Don’t bother. All … pointless …”

  Jemma looked around the room. Its walls were ripped open, piles of beams and plaster everywhere. The pews were smashed. Nocturna and Shade were on their knees, clinging to the altar cloth. Feo’s body lay behind them, the two blood-soaked weasel corpses nearby. Rook and the surviving weasels had vanished. Mordrake’s scythe lay on the floor, shattered; both he and Mordana were split from head to toe. The altar was in smithereens, the fire barely smoldering. And Drudge, the wizened old warrior who had dedicated his life to this moment, was gone, the empty shell of his body crumpled like a handless glove, with Noodle and Pie sitting on either side of his head as if keeping vigil. Nox was right. It was all pitifully, murderously pointless.

  Jemma let go of his hand and stood. “I hope this satisfies you, Nocturna Agromond!” she yelled across the room. “Was it worth all this death and destruction, and all those poor children’s lives, to get more Power? Sacrificing your own son, even! Tell me, you who thought nothing of killing my brother!”

  Nocturna raised her head slowly, her crimson lips spreading into a sneer. “I?” she said. “I? Foolish child, still you do not know! Oh, yes, little Jamem was slaughtered in cold blood, the poor lamb so helpless, screaming out for you, his precious Jem-Jem, the sister he knew and loved so well while you were both here at the castle! Oh, the pity of it! But it was not I who murdered your brother, Jemma. No, it was he!” Nocturna’s long-nailed finger pointed straight at Nox.

  “You!” Jemma took a step back.

  “Jemma … Flamehead … I …”

  “Ha!” Shade chimed in. “And you thought he cared about you! But what kind of caring is it that kills one while it coddles the other?”

  “Jem,” said Digby, stepping toward her. “Don’t listen—”

  Nox looked up at her, imploring. There it was in his eyes, what she had never allowed herself to see before: the bloody deed, the guilt, the greed, his duplicity, his knowledge of the pain he had caused, all twisted up with the love he felt for her, and for his own dead sister.

  “Think of your twin, Jemma!” Nocturna stood, pulling Shade up with her. “Your twin, and the loss your parents suffered for all those years!” Black diaphanous strands of energy began emanating from them and moving toward Nox.

  “Jemma,” Nox whispered hoarsely, the black strands snaking around him. “Forgive me.”

  Anger and sorrow flooded under Jemma’s skin. She saw the knife nearby, where she’d dropped it, and picked it up.

  “Jem!” Digby stepped in front of her and took hold of her shoulders. “Jem, don’t listen to ’em! It’s like when we was in the Mist—if you get caught up in their hatred, you’ll only strengthen ’em again. Look, you can see it already.”

  Nocturna and Shade’s mouths were curled into matching snarls. Their dark auras expanded.

  “Hold your tongue, boy,” Shade hissed. “Worthless piece of Hazebury dro—”

  “Shut up, you!” Digby barked. He turned back to Jemma. “Jem, remember who you is. You’ve waited your whole life for this! Yes, it’s a Mordawful mess. But think what it means: the end of their reign, Jem. A thousand years of it, over!”

  “It’s all right, Dig,” Jemma said calmly. The black strands oozing from Nocturna and Shade tightened around Nox, then started making their way toward her. She clenched the knife’s handle.

  “Yes, Jemma, yes!” Nocturna shouted. “Avenge your little brother’s horrible death. You can, you must!”

  “Jem, don’t!” Digby grabbed her arm. Behind him, Flora and the boys’ eyes flared with alarm.

  “Out of my way!” Jemma pushed Digby aside and leapt forward, infusing the blade with Light as she sliced the air, severing the shadowy web entangling Nox. Its sticky sinews snapped back into Nocturna and Shade. Jemma opened her hand, and the knife fell to the ground.

  “Whoa, Jem!” Digby said. “I thought—”

  “I know you did, Dig.” Jemma glanced at Nocturna and Shade, who looked deflated again, then turned to Nox. “Forgive you?” she said. “I don’t even know how to make sense of that idea, after all you’ve done. But revenge would only keep the evil going, and then all of this would have been for nothing.” She knelt and stroked Drudge’s silky hair. “And you didn’t wait here three hundred years for that, did you?”

  Noodle and Pie licked her hand, then burrowed into the hollow of Drudge’s neck.

  Digby knelt beside her. “What is it he wanted you to say?” he asked. “Don’t forget. You promised.”

  “Yes, I did.” Jemma sat back on her heels and took a deep breath, knowing that despite the horror and sorrow of all that had happened, she must mean the words with all her heart. She thought of her parents and Marsh, of Drudge’s sacrifice and centuries of waiting, of Majem, the Prophecy, and Jamem, of all the help that had brought her to this point, and of those with her now: Digby, Noodle, and Pie. Even the triplets, with all the terrors they had suffered, had contributed to this moment. Every one of them had played a part. And so too, she realized, had her years at Agromond Castle, and her escape from it. If she hadn’t been abducted, she would never have known Drudge, would never have learned to Trussst, never have become as determined as she needed to be to fulfill Gudred’s Prophecy. It was all meant to be. All of it.

  Thank you, she muttered under her breath, rising to her feet. Thank you. And all at once the longing she’d harbored since the first
stories Marsh had told her all those years ago seemed to well up from the ground, rushing through her and pouring out on the tide of her voice.

  “It is done, it is done!” she shouted.

  “Now, Myst, be gone,

  Let there be Sunne!”

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  Dawn

  “What’s happening?” Tiny squealed, his eyes like saucers. “The light!”

  Through every crack in the outside walls, dawn was finding its way in, seeking out the musty corners of the Ceremony Chamber and illuminating places that had only ever seen darkness. Gray granite paled, gargoyles’ faces grimaced, and spiders ran for cover, leaving their prey quivering on sparkling webs.

  “Look!” Flora pointed to where Shade and Nocturna were backed against the fireplace, the altar cloth pulled around them like a shroud. “They’re scared!”

  “Well, I’ll be, so they are!” said Digby. “Afraid of daylight. Imagine that.”

  Just then there was banging on the door behind them, and yelling.

  “Digby, Jemma—let me in!”

  “It’s Pa!” Simon, Tiny, and Flora hurtled toward the door. It creaked and strained, then splintered off its hinges as Gordo burst into the room.

  “Oh, my little ’uns, my little ’uns—Digby—all of yer—”

  “Pa, Pa! You should’ve seen—it was all dark—everythin’ shakin’—”

  “I know, I know.” Gordo knelt and scooped them into his arms. “Me n’ Pepper, we couldn’t get near, with stones crashin’ down everywhere. Then a big light went up.…” He looked at Jemma and Digby. “Soon as I saw it, don’t ask me how, I knew you was all safe— Oh, my! Mr. Drudge … Poor ol’ fellow.” He let out a long whistle.

  “He’s at peace,” said Jemma, knowing as she spoke that the words came from Drudge. “He says … it was a strain for him to be alive, after so long.” Her heart lifted. “He’s meeting his loved ones.”

  “Who’da thought he was so … so special, eh?” Gordo said, shaking his head. “Las’ night, y’know, when him an’ me was hidin’, I was beside myself about the five of you. But he jus’ laid a hand on me, an’ the way it calmed me, an’ kep’ me strong … like magic, it was.” He stood, then winced, his hand going to the Dromfell wound on his calf.

  “Oh, Gordo,” said Jemma, going over to him. “Let’s see what I can do about that.” She squatted down and placed her hand on the wound.

  “I’m fine, lass. It’ll wait.” Gordo held the triplets close. “You don’t need to bother with— Why, young Jemma! How’re you doin’ that?” The gash on his leg scabbed over, then vanished.

  “I had the best teachers.” Jemma stood again, and smiled. “Besides, it’s not me who heals you,” she added, remembering Bryn’s words. “I just help.”

  “Oh. Right.” Gordo scratched his head. “But ’ow are you, lass? I mean, Mr. Drudge, an’ everythin’ you been through …”

  “I’m all right, thanks.” Jemma looked across at Drudge’s frail form. It seemed to have shrunk, the face strangely empty without his spirit to animate the beaked nose and cracked lips. But his love and dedication, and all she knew of him, lived inside her now. Little more than five weeks ago she would never have thought it possible, but almost everything she had believed about her life had been turned on its head since then, and everything she’d hated or feared no longer had power over her. Nocturna and Shade seemed little more than terrified wraiths. Even her anger toward Nox was rapidly dissipating; all she saw was a broken man. The worst thing was how shaken the triplets still looked, though Gordo’s arrival had cheered them up. And you too can help to clear those horrors from their eyes, said a new voice in her head—a voice that was clear and ageless, no longer cracked and worn, and I, and all of us who are part of you, will help as well.

  Jemma smiled at Gordo. “Yes,” she said. “I’m all right. I really am.”

  “Well then,” said Digby, pointing at Nox. “Let’s get this beam off him. Noodle, Pie, mind yourselves.”

  The rats hopped off Drudge’s body and scuttled up onto Jemma’s shoulders while she, Gordo, and Digby hoisted the beam to one side. Nox groaned, coming to, his face a picture of agony.

  “Thank you,” he said, then passed out again.

  “Don’t mention it,” Digby said, gritting his teeth. “Come on, Jem, let’s go and deal with them other two, make sure they don’t escape. Flora, Tiny, Simon, stand back, just in case.”

  Noodle’s and Pie’s tails lashed across Jemma’s neck as she, Digby, and Gordo approached Nocturna and Shade. The two stood in statuesque silence, apparently oblivious to Nox and to Feo’s blood-soaked body lying in front of them. But the fire had gone from their eyes, leaving only four hollow, burned-out coals. Digby and Gordo knotted together the ropes with which Flora and the boys had been tied, and wound it tightly around their prisoners. Bound from shoulder to thigh, Nocturna and Shade looked like two giant grubs. Digby secured the ends of the rope around one of the remaining pillars, making sure that they were directly in a beam of light just for good measure.

  “There,” he said, grinning. “Fear has its uses, eh, Jem? Should keep ’em nice an’ meek for a while. Now, let’s get out of here!”

  “Yes,” she said. “Let’s go.”

  “Us too!” Flora, Simon, and Tiny skittered up to them.

  “Aye.” Gordo picked Tiny up. “We’ll all go.”

  Jemma felt a tug at her sleeve. Flora was beaming up at her.

  “Thank you for savin’ us, Jemma,” she said.

  “You’re welcome.” Jemma smoothed down Flora’s matted hair. “I’m sorry I had to be so nasty yesterday.”

  “That’s all right,” Flora said. Jemma could see the shadow of Nocturna’s sword scudding across Flora’s eyes, and shuddered. Then Noodle and Pie hopped onto Flora’s shoulders. Her face lit up, and she turned and skipped after Gordo, Simon, and Tiny. Jemma and Digby walked slowly behind.

  “Just a minute, Dig.” Jemma stopped by Drudge’s body and knelt down, laying her hand gently on his chest. With a slight crackle, what was left of him collapsed into a golden puff of dust, his clothes deflating onto the flagstones. One lapel of his jacket wafted back, revealing an inside pocket from which a corner of parchment was showing. Jemma pulled it out and unfolded it. Its edges were tattered, and it was worn along the folds, barely holding together. Most of the scrolled handwriting was obliterated by holes and dried rivulets where the ink had run, but she instantly recognized whose it was.

  “My dearest G,” she read, whispering, “with heavy heart … your leaving. Should I depart this life before thee … shall ever watch over … I remain, your M.”

  Jemma folded the note as carefully as she could and replaced it. “Ever watch over,” she repeated, in awe at the endurance of such love. “But you’re reunited now.” She stood, and with a last sideways glance at the still-unconscious Nox, walked with Digby out of the Ceremony Chamber and into the hallway.

  Gordo and the triplets were standing in the middle of the hall, open-mouthed. The stairway’s curved balustrade lay in pieces on the floor, daylight slicing in through the ripped ceiling. The huge oak front door hung off its hinges as if begging for mercy from the chaos outside.

  “Blimey!” said Digby, taking Jemma’s hand as they picked their way across the dust and rubble. “What a mess!”

  “Look—the Mist!” said Simon. “It’s going away!”

  They all stopped by the entrance and watched the whiteness folding back, revealing granite blocks and broken gargoyles everywhere. To the left, toward the sheer edge of Mordwin’s Crag, the grass was covered with shards of glass from the Repast Room window. Straight ahead, fragments of battlements were embedded in the earth. To the right, hewn boulders littered the ground up to where Pepper stood waiting with the cart. Beyond, the forest looked as though it were waking from a long sleep, the pines’ dark arms stretching outward. Above their gently swaying tops, a golden disc hovered low in the sky, shining through the merest veil of gray, which
was decreasing every moment.

  “The sun,” whispered Jemma. “Flora, Tiny, Simon, look—that’s the sun!”

  The triplets, Digby, and Gordo were already squinting at it, shading their eyes from the unaccustomed brightness.

  “Go on, Jem,” said Digby, nudging her. “You first.”

  Jemma let go of his hand and stepped outside.

  The air was balmy, the scent of firs and pines strong in the clearing air. She breathed it in, then turned and looked up at the hulking shell of the Ceremony Chamber, the spiky ruins behind it where the Bell Tower used to be, and the white sky above. Even what remained of the castle looked less heavy, glints of crystal blinking off it in the dawn light.

  “It’s glorious!” she said. “Come on out, all of you!”

  Noodle and Pie sprang from Flora’s shoulders and streaked toward Jemma like two golden arrows. Digby followed, grinning from ear to ear. Gordo and the triplets stepped onto the grass, then started laughing as they experienced the soft glow of sunlight for the first time. Flora and the boys scampered to and fro, the terrors of the last few days seeming to ebb from them as they rolled onto the ground, pulling Gordo with them.

  “Ooh, me back. Ouch!” Gordo said, laughing. “Careful, now. Your pa’s gettin’ a bit cronky.”

  “Shush everyone!” Jemma said. “What’s that?”

  They stopped and listened. Voices, hundreds of them, were rising up from the forest, getting louder by the second.

  “Sounds like an army,” said Digby, “coming up the road.”

  They waited, ears alert. A bead of sweat dribbled down Jemma’s forehead, and she realized how warm she was. Apparently, they were all feeling it. Gordo mopped his brow. He and Digby removed their jackets, Simon and Tiny pulled off their jerkins, and Flora rolled up her sleeves. Noodle and Pie, perched on a boulder, were licking their fur. The golden disc of sun was now higher above the treetops, brighter, more defined. All around, the sky was changing, turning blue. It seemed to go on forever.