"I will not be weak again!" Mordred shuddered as the memory he had buried so long ago resurfaced. His vision opened and he saw. The column opened up and rained knowledge on Mordred. "My God," he mumbled. "Why did I forget? How could I?" Mordred's frame seemed to weaken. His shoulders shrank and the audible cry came from behind the mask. The pillar intensified as Mordred began to cry. His hands quivered and quaked, his entire form shaking with anguish. "I'm sorry," he moaned.
The entire Holodrome watched in stunned silence as though the world revolved around Uther and Mordred. The pillar's intensity grew as Mordred began to falter. He continued to whimper and cry as the memory asserted itself. Marcus stood in awe of it all.
"Be still Mandrake," Uther said reassuringly. "All will be well. Let it go." Mordred started to sag, his strength waning. His fists clenched suddenly as the rage returned. Mordred moved to stand, trying to force his will on Uther.
"NO! I will not let him go! NO!" Uther pressed harder, driving Mordred back to his knees.
"Be calm!" Uther roared, his voice no longer slight and small.
"Let go Uther!" Jack called against the howling wind. "You've done enough!" Uther smiled inside the pillar, shaking his head slightly.
"You said I knew my future." He looked at Marcus and nodded slowly. "I figured it out Sir Kasidyne. Do not worry. I have changed everything." He bowed his head and groaned. "Tell my father . . . Tell my people what I did." Marcus nodded. Uther gritted his teeth as he gave it one last push. Mordred screamed, his voice echoing off the walls of the Holodrome. The wind seemed to pull in toward the pillar, creating a barrier of air around Uther and Mordred.
Marcus watched as Uther squeezed harder. "I promise!" he returned. In that terrible moment, when all that Uther could manage was poured into Mordred, a thunderous crack filled the air. Uther's form started to waver, fading slowly in and out of view. The mask began to split down its center and the void shifted, retreating to one side. When it had, the mask was equal parts light and darkness. The division in the center was uneven, crackling with barely contained power. The mask of sorrows was now both void and light.
"This isn't over! I will succeed!" Uther shook his head, removing his hands from Mordred's face. A wave of peace washed over him as he relaxed. Uther closed his eyes and smiled.
"No. You will not." In one quiet instant, Uther disappeared entirely, simply gone from existence. The pillar of air shattered outward, blowing everyone to the deck. A long moment of silence passed as everyone tried to find their bearings. All the sound in the Holodrome became muted. There was nothing for several seconds.
Mordred let out a shattering cry, filling the silence with anguish. His voice ceased and he fell onto his face, the mask jarring loose. Mordred lay still for a moment, before pulling himself from the floor. Marcus could not see his face, the man’s form almost complete swallowed in shadow. The Mask hung crookedly from Mordred’s head, seemingly inert. He grabbed it uncertainly, pulling it away from his face. The man beneath shuddered. For an instant, he looked confused. His hands wavered and he dropped the mask, the old metal landing on the stage with an audible thunk. Mordred let out a throaty whimper, and grabbed the mask again, carefully touching only the light side. Marcus looked up and watched as Mordred looked at the mask with genuine horror. A long, silent moment passed as the light of the pillar faded and the room became dark.
"Lord Mordred?" Darius whispered, his voice quaking with fear. Mordred stood in stunned shock as the world around him returned to normal. He continued to stare at the mask, uncertain of what to do. He shook himself, as though coming suddenly to a sense of peril and shimmered for a moment before snapping out of being as he had once before. Both he and the mask disappeared from view. Darius called out a quick retreat, grabbing Zeriff and escaping. The Absolutes all vanished from sight. Only Jennifer's double remained. Marcus walked over to where the pillar had been. He knelt down next to the spot on the ground where Uther had been. Only a slight char on the floor remained, marking the incident. Marcus bowed his head and closed his eyes.
"God speed the right," he whispered, a tear falling down his cheek.
Chapter 31
Friends and Funerals
The aftermath of it all wasn't pretty. Marcus wrenched the door open, allowing a full contingent of paladins to rush the room. He did his best to explain to them all that they needed to know. After several minutes of calming words, Marcus managed to lay the entire event before the group. Both Uther and Ellis's mentors looked stricken. Donavan and the media crew all corroborated Marcus's account. Not that it really mattered. The Council would review the evidence. Marcus would have their determination soon enough. He could feel it already. It wasn't going to be positive.
The next few days were spent in mourning. Uther's funeral was attended by almost no one. Most people on campus didn't know him. The chain of events was broadcast in a special report over the news wire at Marcus's request. Uther was given special mention, and his own biography was presented for all to view. Marcus wanted to make sure that no one misunderstood what had happened in the Holodrome that afternoon. Marcus made sure to sit in the editing room for almost a full day, just to be certain nothing untoward happened in the process. Uther was given a media treated hero's send-off. But that did little to dissuade anyone from thinking the worst of Uther Un'Hok Tol. Even with the sacrifice he'd made, there was still fear of what he and his people could and would do. And with that fear came derision. Uther would always be a hero. But he wouldn't always be remembered that way.
"I met Uther for the first time in Sir Kasidyne's classroom," Jack said at the wake. No one had said a word for nearly an hour, other than the usual I'm sorry's and excuse me's. "I didn't want to be there. Anywhere else would've been fine. KP in the youth cafeteria was preferable. I could muscle an underclassman to do it for me," he mused. "I looked around at my classmates and I hated my life. I was Mr. Big Shot. I was Jack Roykirk. I didn't need to be around all these losers.
"Uther was this furry little squeak who always sat real quiet. He wasn't like me. Hell, nobody was. After all, I'm Jack Roykirk, right?" Jack lowered his head, thinking over what it was that he was driving at. He sniffed once, remembering the face of his classmate.
"After a while, I didn't think he was so bad. He looked a little funny, but that was just his looks. He talked funny, but everyone does. I never once heard the kid use a contraction. He was so formal. I thought once he was doing that to be superior." Mary smiled a little, remembering that conversation.
"But Uther surprised us all, with his compassion, his understanding and his spirituality. I remember the day I counted him as my friend. I had been turned down for a date at the Cotillion by Sydney Bair. You guys remember her. The blonde with the attitude problem." Ian smirked. They'd met once. Jack had very little chance to introduce her to anyone, with Sydney hanging onto his lips at every pause in Jack's speech. She was known by all, if only for being attached to Jack’s face.
"This girl was perfect for me. Beautiful and athletic with platinum blonde hair. She was also vacuous and opportunistic. At least, she was after I was done with her. If I had been of age last year, I would've probably ended up married to her. But she decided she wanted someone a little more her speed. Someone who was as vain and foolish as she had become." Jack stopped. Now wasn't the time. "Anyway, I was feeling pretty foul. Uther didn't say a word. He didn't ask me what was wrong. He simply clapped me on the shoulder and said, 'Look at it this way. She thought enough of you to say no.'" Jack smiled as he remembered. "I wanted to clout him right there. But he squeezed my shoulder and I felt a warmth go through me. He frowned, then nodded, then walked away. I don't really understand why he did that for me, but I'll love him for it to the day I die."
The rest of that day was spent in wondrous remembrance of the young boy that had been inappropriately nicknamed 'Silverback.' Mary cried most of the time, both for the loss of Uther and the tragedy that had befallen Ellis Burke. She was taking the loss of both harder than an
yone else. On some level, Mary took Ellis's plight personally. She wouldn't say it, but she thought that somehow it was her fault.
Marcus left the group a little early, heading for the holding cells on the far end of campus. The Paladins didn't really believe in prisons. The entire basement of the paladin office complex was a massive rehabilitation wing, away from prying eyes. Darius had been interred here. His escape had yet to be explained. He simply walked out as though the cell wall wasn't there. At least, according to official reports. Marcus didn't believe it, assuming instead that he had been set free. But Darius had made certain to put on a good show. The walls of his cell, caved in from the pounding he'd done with his fists, would take weeks to repair.
Marcus was told in very specific language that he was to have no communications with the prisoner. The Council had yet to determine her identity, or the veracity of her claims of being a Manticore of the Order of the Silent Knife. They could debate that all they wanted. Marcus knew what he'd seen. Silent Knife magicians could use someone's own memories to trick their eyes, their ears, their nose, their touch, even their personal perceptions into thinking they were someone else. With that, even a turn of phrase would sound pitch perfect to someone who knew them. She had played the part of Jennifer Burton so perfectly, except for the nostalgia.
Marcus had expected to see Jennifer as different when she returned. Every time he looked at her, it had felt like a memory or a dream. Something that he had chalked up to old feelings. But the Silent Knife had pulled a version Jennifer he expected from old memories rather than current expectations. She was perfect in every way, except for that almost Deja vu-like feeling. His recollections of Jennifer were partly from his dreams. His unconscious fantasies had colored his memory. And the nostalgia had been his warning. Add to that the faux Jennifer's radical mood swings, and Marcus had all the evidence he could handle. He just wished he'd paid better attention.
The cells weren't barred. Rather, a thick pane of plexi-glass supported by magnetic screens separated the prisoners from the rehab staff. Marcus faced the cell, his arms folded in front of his chest. The woman was sitting quietly, almost dejected looking. She was dressed in a simple white jumpsuit, with only a bed and a chair for company.
"Slow day?" Marcus asked, getting the woman's attention.
"Of course, Matarus Kasdran the Caladrius,” she muttered in frustration, clearly unhappy to see him. “My day is complete.” Marcus remembered that name. Noganus had given it to him. Marcus had heard the disgust in Noganus’s tone when he said it. Marcus had, purely out of curiosity, tried to research the name. All he had found was a reference to the Caladrius, which was a silver bird that devoured disease. No menace to speak of.
“I don't want to talk. I've had enough of talking." Her voice had neither the venom that Marcus had heard before, nor the sarcasm. This woman was dead tired and unafraid to share her frustration.
"From what I've heard, you haven't said much anyway. So, how's about it?" Marcus took a breath. "What's your name?" She sat there for a long moment, quiet and cold. Marcus waited as calmly as he could, not wanting to press if he didn't have to. She'd give up her secrets eventually. He knew she would.
"Elza," she said simply, her voice low. Marcus didn't say anything. "Elza Burke." Marcus made sure not to let his reactions show on his face. She'd just said the impossible.
"Elza Burke is dead," he toned. Elza shook her head, not meeting his eyes.
"Not physically. Maybe in spirit." Elza had been away from her Dread Paladin trappings for a few days now. She was not the self-confident, vainglorious youth that Marcus had faced off with in the Holodrome. She was small and frail now. "Elza Burke crashed in that glider along with her mother. Mom saved me from the wreckage and we escaped together. Mordred found us and I began my training in his care. My given name is Elza. My true name is Elasi Biroak the Echidna."
"And Ellis is your twin brother?" Elza nodded slowly. She'd been told about him all along. The brother she'd lost to the paladins. Marcus could almost hear Noganus laughing at him from his grave.
"Is he all right?" Elza asked, genuine concern sounding in her voice. Despite what she'd become, Elza was still Ellis's sister. Marcus frowned, not wanting to say anything.
"He's been captured. He has the Falseblade." Elza's face was a mix of surprise, shock and pride. Marcus watched as a twinge of satisfaction crawled across her face, quickly replaced with gloom.
"He's been chosen as the High Prelate then. Thus rises Elazor Biroak, the Typhos." Marcus's frown deepened.
"I don't understand. Noganus chose me as his heir," he said, more defensively than he'd intended. Elza shook her head slowly.
"He chose those in your bloodline. Those of your Descendants. All males related to you by blood are in line to follow Noganus. And all of your family are worthy to wield the Falseblade with control." The look on Marcus's face said it all.
"You wielded that blade with control." He turned away, trying to hide his stunned shock. Elza noticed, but said nothing. Marcus took his time processing what she'd said. It wasn't actually possible. It couldn't be. Marcus glanced at Elza once more, trying to see what he could in her eyes, in her face. She simply looked back at him tiredly. Marcus shook his head and walked out. It was too crazy to consider. But it was too possible to leave unchecked.
'This is the hardest thing I've ever had to write. But if I don't set the record straight here and now, I may never be able to. I want anyone who is reading this to know that what I'm about to tell you is hard to believe, but I am telling the absolute truth.
'Almost one year ago, Marina hurt herself falling down the stairs. She was mostly fine, except for the nasty attitude she brought home from the hospital. The doctors assured me that it was just a side effect of the head trauma. But I wasn't convinced.
'Marina and I had started to grow apart after that. She wasn't talking to me unless she had to, and despite everything I tried, we were not "relating" to one another anymore. She wasn't interested. I talked to Jacob about it. His advice, which he and I put to much prayer, was to be the best husband I could be, and wait. Marina would come around.
'So I started doing everything I could. I fixed the house in every way I could think of. I took over chores. I made meals. I even bought her her own horse. Marina was indifferent to it all for a long time, but I pressed on. She kept going out, claiming the need to spend some quality time with her newfound friends. To be perfectly honest, I never met a single one of her new friends. I didn't even know their names.
'I allowed Marcus to stay at a friend's house one evening. When Marina came home, I had the perfect romantic evening all set and ready. She was resistant, but after a long bit of talking, things finally changed. And we 'related' once more.
'Everything was great from then on. It was like being newly married all over again. But about a month later, things changed.'
Wren sat in his study, looking over a few things he'd been meaning to check on for Jacob. Having his life back in order was taking up a lot of his free time. His responsibilities were starting to show some neglect. As such, he was finding it necessary to hide himself away to get his work done.
There was a knock at the door. Wren looked up from his reading and watched Marina walk quietly into the room. She had that look on her face again. Wren was glad to see it. Marina walked silently over and sat her small frame in his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck.
"And what exactly do you want?" Wren asked playfully.
"I told Marcus he could go camp out with his friends tonight," Marina started playing with the hair on the back of Wren's neck. "I thought we might spend a little time together." Wren smiled at his wife.
"I would love to." He paused and Marina started to frown.
"But?" Wren motioned to the desk.
"But I really need to finish this. If you weren't so voracious, I wouldn't be behind right now.” Marina stood up and Wren pulled himself up to the desk again. That's when she started kissing his neck.
"Well, you work on that, and I'll work on you." Wren felt his resolve slipping. He really wanted to turn his attention to his wife. But he had work to do. He needed to do that first.
"Marina," he croaked out. Marina stopped, looking at him. "Later. I promise." Wren watched in surprise as she stood up with a huff and marched out without a word. The door slammed behind her. Wren didn’t need to be told that something was wrong. He stood from his chair with a groan and followed her out to the kitchen.
"Okay. What'd I do wrong this time?" Marina was busying herself with dishes. Her actions looked erratic. Water and soap were splashing all about as she scrubbed and rinsed the same pan three times. Wren could see that it was clean, but Marina persisted.
"Nothing. Nothing at all. In fact, you did everything right." Marina tossed the pan into the sink in frustration. "You always do everything sooooo perfectly. I can't get anything done around here without running into all this paladin perfection." Marina picked up the pan again, scrubbing it anew.
"I think that's clean Hun," Marina slapped the suds in the sink, sending a wave of water up along the counter top. Wren tried not to react.
"You see. There it is again. You just know everything. I'm wrong again. I've been wrong this whole time. I thought I was doing one thing right. I thought I was doing what I was supposed to. Then you go and show me something else and I fall right into it. I’m not a fool Wren. I know when I’m being manipulated. You just had to have things your own way. It’s not fair.” Wren had his eyebrows knit together, not sure of what Marina was talking about.
"What're-" Marina cut him off.
"And don't act like you didn't do it on purpose. I know what you're capable of. I was told all about you. And I wasn't going to do it. I was going to stick to the plan. But you had to go and get all romantic and wonderful and convince me to be married with you. And now I'm gonna have a baby that I'm not even sure I want." Wren felt his mouth drop open.
The Paladin Archives Book Two The Withering Falseblade Page 49
