by Kailin Gow
Rose and Logan both looked embarrassed.
“I did tell Rose you could handle it on your own,” Rodney continued on blithely, completely unaware of how his words made Rose want to sink into the floor, “but she insisted on going over, saying she just knew you would need her help.”
Rose looked firmly down at her shoes, but Logan only laughed. “I’m glad she did, then,” said Logan. “Everyone has weaknesses – and it looks like that thing found mine. It’s a good thing Rose did come over to help me; if she hadn’t I might not be returning at all. I’m not ashamed to admit it, either. You saved me, Rose.”
“You saved all of us,” Shasta chimed in, with a more sincerely friendly smile on her lips than any Rose had seen before.
“We all saved each other,” said Rose. “Like what the King said. That’s what being a team is about. What being a Knight is about. We’re all in this together.”
“Hear, hear,” said Rodney.
“Indeed,” said Shasta.
“Definitely,” Logan added.
They turned to Alistair, waiting for his sign of approval, but to their surprise he was silent. He was staring down at his book, his mouth gaping open, his eyes glazed over.
“Hey, Alistair?” Logan prodded him. “Are you with us?”
But Alistair made no answer.
And then Rose noticed. He wasn’t even blinking.
Chapter 13
“Alistair?” Rose leaned in. Something was wrong, she knew. She could sense it. Her heart had started to beat faster, to pound so loud that it was ringing in her ears like thunder. Could Alistair be...no! She couldn't think of that. She couldn't let herself think of that. She placed her ear against his smooth chest, and to her great relief noted that she could hear a heartbeat steadily pulsing against her ear. “He's alive!” she exclaimed breathlessly. “Then what...” Alistair made no sign of being at all conscious of her presence. His eyes were wide and vacant, as if they were staring past her, seeing nothing in the room.
“Alistair?” Logan bounded over. “Alistair, what's going on? Stop messing around, Alistair!”
“He's not messing around,” Rose said frantically. “He's – something's wrong with him.” Her eyes fell upon the book that Alistair had been holding. “What's that?” She grabbed it, and instinctively slammed it shut. It made a horrible cracking sound, like the breaking of bones, as she closed it. She shuddered. “Shasta, what was the last thing Alistair did before he got like this?”
Shasta's voice trembled. “I don't know,” she said, her lip quivering, “everything was fine. We banished Redleaf and...and....my mother.” Her face fell with the memory. “And then we were healing our wounds when Alistair caught sight of this book in the rubble. We thought that maybe one of the spirits accidentally left it behind. We thought it might have something useful in it, some information about how to fight the Dark Fey.”
“And?” Rose urged her on.
“And...Alistair started reading it. That's all. Nothing weird, nothing out of the ordinary. It just looked like he was reading. And then...that happened.” She pointed at the prone, comatose Alistair. “We just thought he was really into the book...” She gulped. “We didn't notice anything was wrong. How could I have missed...”
“It's not your fault, Shasta,” Rodney put his arm around her. “We all missed it,” he said.
“Could it be the book?” Rose asked. She'd heard in lectures about books that were able to protect themselves against prying eyes by casting spells or even curses on unfortunate readers, but she knew such magic was powerful and rare. “Did the book do that to him?”
“I don't know, Rose,” Logan said heavily. “But I can tell you one thing – until we figure out what caused this, I think we should be very careful with that book.” He leaned it, snapping his fingers in front of Alistair's eyes, but it was no use. His light blue eyes were glazed over.
And then he blinked.
“Something's happening!” Rose cried. “He's coming back!”
But Alistair did not return to consciousness. Instead, his eyes began to twitch, and the sparkling emerald irises began to slowly turn black, as if a single drop of ink had been placed upon the lens of his eye, spreading across his entire pupil.
“What's happening?” Shasta leaned in, worried. “I've never seen anything like this.”
Rose looked down at the book Alistair had been reading. Its narrow spine, with its crinkled black leather and distinct smell – like rotting corpses, she thought – now seemed fraught with terror. This was an evil book, she knew – a book that possessed more darkness than she had ever thought possible. She could sense the darkness, a palpable force that seemed to burn her as she picked up the book and held it in her hands. Her fingers grew hot and then freezing cold; a chill went down her spine.
“Put that down,” Logan said. “We can't have that book hurting you, too. We need to figure out a way to bring Alistair back.”
Rose shook her head. “Whatever hurt Alistair is in this book,” she said. “We're not going to figure out how to get Alistair back until we see what it says.”
“But how do you propose to do that?” Rodney said quickly. “If you read the book, then whatever that thing did to Alistair, it'll do to you, too.”
Rose stared down at the book in her lap. She knew that what Rodney said was true, but something within her resisted. She had to find out what was in the book – a desire for knowledge stronger even than her desire for self-preservation reared up in her. She looked up at Alistair, and felt a sudden ache in her heart. Poor Alistair, she thought – he was the only one of them not to be afflicted by one of the visions of the Dark Forces. She and Rodney had bowed down to Redleaf, Shasta to her mother, Logan to his grandfather and to the Queen Panthea – but Alistair hadn't been taken in by any of them. He had always been so pure, so good – so free of the torment and doubts that seemed to have overcome the rest of them.
“It's not fair,” Rose said, feeling the tears welling up in her eyes. “It's not fair! It shouldn't have been Alistair. It should have been any of us but Alistair.” She could still remember, still see it in her mind's eye: their first kiss, the way he had smoothed her hair, the laughing smile in his emerald eyes, now jet-black and devoid of the sparkle she had so loved. She could taste his kiss on her lips – the memory of a kiss five years old. She remembered how he had held her tight, how he had made her feel that there was no other girl in the world, that there was nothing else in the world that mattered but them and their love and that one, beautiful moment when his lips pressed up against hers and his hands felt and encircled her waist. “We were so busy fighting – we didn't realize that Alistair was in danger...”
“Maybe this is how the Dark Forces tempted him,” Logan said. “We all had to face our fears – but Alistair faced down his desire – like any good alchemist, he had a thirst for knowledge. A desire to learn. And so he couldn't resist reading...”
“I found the book!” said Shasta mournfully. “I gave it to him – I knew that he loved to read, that he could understand books of magic far better than I. If I hadn't done that...” She began to shake as hot, angry tears began to pour from her eyes.
“Then it would be you in that coma instead of Alistair,” Rodney said quickly. “And none of us would be better off for it.”
“I wish it had been,” said Shasta with a gloomy expression. “I'm the reason we're in this mess, anyway. And no matter how hard I try to atone for my actions, I'll never be able to wash all this blood off my hands. The Winter Queen was right – what I did...it was unconscionable. Even if we get the suns of Feyland back, every single death between the Fairy Wars and then will be on my hands. It's too much for me to ever hope for redemption, Rodney. I can only hope to do the best I can in making sure nobody else dies because of me.”
“He's not dead,” said Logan. “We'll be able to save him, don't worry! We've dealt with worse spells before – Rose will be able to heal him, won't you, Rose?”
Rose sighed. How
was Logan always so confident, so calm? Even now, as she felt as if her heart were about to break, she still felt as if Logan had all the answers. She could trust him, she knew – she wanted to close her eyes, to lean into him, to listen to the sound of his comforting voice. She shook her head. “I don't know if I can,” she said. “I don't even know what's wrong with him...” She turned away from Logan. “There's nothing I can do,” she said bitterly.
Rose closed her eyes. She was supposed to be the smart one, the one experienced in spellcraft and making potions. But right now her mind had gone blank. She didn't even know where to start. She closed her eyes and ransacked her brain, hoping to think of something, some answer. What had she learned about cursed books? She could remember everything she'd learned about poisoned books, book written in ink that would gradually kill the reader, but cursed books were as foreign to her as the language of the Mountain Phoenixes.
“I'm sorry,” Rose said softly. “I don't know what to do.”
Rodney and Shasta were silent. She could sense their disappointment in her, sense all their hopes turned to despair. Alistair was lying there, as good as dead, and there was nothing she could do to save him. Was this what Breena had made her a Knight for? To watch her lose her cool and forget everything she'd learned about spellcraft at the first real test? How disappointed Breena would be, Rose thought, willing the tears to hold themselves back, if she discovered that all her faith in Rose had come to nothing.
“Don't cry,” Rose heard a voice behind her. She turned to face Logan, who was crouching next to her, putting his strong, muscular arm around her. She closed her eyes, unable to resist savouring the feeling of his warm skin on hers. “Rose, I know you can do this. You've always been the brains of the operation, haven't you?” He gave her a weak smile, his eyes shining with kindness. “I believe in you, Rose. Remember what you said back there in the corridor? You believed in me? Now it's my turn to do something for you. You were right – everything you said. I've spent so much of my life kicking myself for not being good enough, strong enough, brave enough, handsome enough...”
“I find that hard to imagine,” said Rose, blushing as soon as the words had left her lips. “I always thought...”
“You'd be surprised at how many insecurities people can have,” said Logan. “I know I am.” He sighed. “Sometimes it seems as if everybody has the answers but us. But I want to tell you, Rose, that it isn't true. We're all just figuring it out as we go along. We – you – just need to have faith.”
“You're all counting on me...” cried Rose. “I don't want to let you down.”
“We believe in you,” said Logan. “And you could never let us down.” He took her hand and squeezed it.
Instantly, Rose felt a warm glow within her. A feeling of love, of kindness, radiating out from Logan, radiating into her. She looked up in surprise. The telepathic block Logan had managed to put onto his feelings back in the corridor had vanished. She was able to sense Logan's thoughts again. She winced, preparing herself to experience his customary pain. But instead she felt no pain, no longing. She felt only kindness, as warm and embracing as a hot bath. She felt only love.
“We'll manage to get through this, Rose,” said Logan. “I promise. And when we look back and reflect on this one day, when we're old and safe in our beds and Feyland is safe with us, then we'll...”
Rose stopped him short.
“We won't, though,” she said softly. “Unless we are willing to take risks. Unless we're willing to risk our lives for each other. Feyland is doomed unless we're brave enough to risk being doomed right along with it.” She sighed. “Whatever hurt Alistair – I won't let it hurt me. If you see anything strange happen to me, pull the book away – right away. But whatever's in this book, it's valuable. And it could save Alistair.”
She fingered the book and opened it.
“Don't!” Logan cried.
But Rose was undeterred. She looked down, her eyes skimming the page as quickly as possible. She did not read each word carefully, as she knew Alistair must have done, but merely let her eyes travel up and down the page, looking for meaningful words, meaningful phrases. She felt no curse, nothing magical. Perhaps the book had already used up all its magic in cursing Alistair? As she flipped hurriedly through the pages, she felt a strange thrill at the base of her spine – a feeling as shocking as it was new. This book held great power, she knew, and the power was all hers...
“The Book of Gwenhyfar,” she said, her voice rising with excitement, “The First Sorceress of Feyland...”
Chapter 14
“The Book of Gwenhyfar?” Rodney looked up in surprise. “I've heard of such a text,” he said, “but I never could have imagined...I always thought that it was a legend, a myth, nothing more.”
“I guess we should know by now,” said Shasta sadly. “There's no such thing as “just a myth” in Feyland.”
Rose peered down the book, straining her eyes. She was less careful, now – she would have noticed if the book held any great magic! It looked like the book could only curse one reader at a time. “It's saying something about the Sorceress,” she said. “Things we already know – that she is born among those who have no magic, that she is initially unaware of her own identity...”
“That can't be it!” Shasta protested. “The book wouldn't curse itself to keep off outsiders if that were all it was. There's got to be something more in there. Any book that protects itself so powerfully must have some sort of secrets. Here, let me try!” She tried to take the book, but Logan stopped her.
“This is Rose's time,” he said. “She knows what to look for – she's an alchemist, a scholar. On the battlefield, you lead – but right now, it's Rose's turn.”
Rose blushed as she continued reading. How was it that Logan could always manage to be so courteous, so kind to her? He was always sticking up for her, whether against her brother Rodney or against any of the others. Sometimes it seemed as if he went out of his way to protect her, to keep her safe. Could it be that he, too...? Rose shook her head as she continued reading. Logan, she was sure, thought little more of her than that she was his friend's little sister. A kid who needed protecting, not a woman for whom one could pine! After all, Logan's heart belonged to Breena, everybody knew that. But as Rose remembered the warm glow she had felt when Logan was comforting her, remembered the feeling of his powerful, sinewy arms around her small shoulders, she couldn't help but hope. Maybe he saw something more in her than a gawky red-headed schoolgirl. After all, Breena had seen something in Rose – seen enough to convince her that Rose, too, should be made a Knight of Feyland. Perhaps Logan was seeing it too?
Don't be stupid, Rose sighed to herself. Even if Logan did feel something for Rose, what did it matter? He wouldn't ever act on it – she was off-limits as Rodney’s little sister – and Alistair's... But what was she to Alistair, anyway? As she looked over at Alistair's beautiful, once-sunny face, now frozen in an expression of fascination and fear, she remembered how she had once desired nothing more than to spend her life in Alistair's arms. But she had been so young, then – and those dreams, however large, were born out of ideas she had read about in books, not out of real experience. When she thought she loved Rodney five years ago, Rose knew, she didn't even know what it meant to be in love! She still didn't know, she thought, but at least she was getting an idea. Love was what Breena and Kian felt for each other; it was the power to destroy all other forms of magic, to destroy the Dark Hordes, to take the risk to wield the most dangerous magic of all. Love was what had saved Feyland the first time.
Was that what she felt for Alistair, Rose wondered? A love so great that it would destroy the Dead and the Dark Hordes themselves? At the time, it had certainly seemed that way, but now she wasn't so sure. How could she trust her own feelings, when one word, one glance, from the Wolf Prince was enough to send her reeling? Rose sighed. Whatever she felt for Alistair, it wasn't enough to stop her from melting every time she felt Logan's skin against hers. And yet,
as she looked down at Alistair's wan face, she felt a sudden, powerful desire to hold him in her arms once again, to kiss his still lips, to be closer to him than the breeze that blew upon his hands. There was love there in her heart – she knew it! The memory of his kiss, the memory of his arms around her, the memory of his smile and his sparkling emerald eyes – all these made her swoon. All these made her long for him.
How she wanted it back again! That moment, that striking and fantastic moment, when she had kissed him for the first time. They were so young then, so naïve and yet so full of the love that Feyland had not yet strangled out of them by years of warfare and hatred. They believed that they, they could save Feyland, that they could be like the knights and heroes of old. How Rose missed those days of such certain belief! She longed to turn the hands of time back, to escape this present, this fear, this darkness and endless night, and run into the welcoming arms of the past. A past where Alistair was as inexperienced and wonderfully, splendidly awkward as she was – a past where he wasn't in any danger.
