by Morgan Rice
Selese squeezed her hand in his, her eyes filled with tears.
“You cannot leave me,” she said, applying a damp cloth to his forehead. Selese spoke slowly, fighting back tears. “Not now. We have a whole life to spend together.”
“I do not wish to,” he answered, each word an effort. Yet even as he spoke them, he felt his life slipping away; it wasn’t much time now.
As he looked into Selese’s eyes, he could see the determination in them.
“I would gladly take death for you,” she said.
“Never,” Reece replied. “I shall tell the Lord of Death, when I see him, that he can have me, but he shall not have you yet.”
Selese reached out with her palms and laid her hands on his wound, and as she did, suddenly, something flushed over Reece. Her hands were icy cold, like death—and yet, strangely, they sent an icy cold energy running into his wound. It ran through his veins, through his entire insides, making him feel colder than he’d ever had, his teeth chattering. He looked up and saw a white icy blue light coming from her hands, in a quick flash, and he felt something like a freezing wind enter his body.
At first it was incredibly painful, wracking his body from head to toe, and he shrieked as it tore through his body. He felt it was the spirit of death, which Selese carried inside her now, entering him.
Then, just as quickly, it ended. Reece lay there, and he looked down and watched in amazement as his wound was entirely healed up.
Reece blinked several times, sweating, in shock.
Then, slowly, unbelievably, he sat up. He checked on his wound, and it was completely healed. Strangest of all, aside from the cold sweat running down his neck, he felt normal—as if he’d never been injured.
Reece looked over at Selese, dumbfounded, and the others did, too.
Selese looked down at her own hands, as if shocked herself by what had happened, and she looked down with humility.
“How did you do that?” Reece asked. “You have saved me.”
Reece, feeling newborn, sat up joyously, as the faces lit up of those all around him, and he grabbed Selese. He gave her a big hug and spun her around again and again, and then they kissed. She cried tears of joy as she kissed him back.
“I had no idea you could restore life,” he said.
She blushed.
“Neither did I, my lord.”
Reece embraced Thorgrin, Elden, O’Connor, and the others, all of them overjoyed to have him back, alive. He looked at Selese, wondering. Had the underworld changed her?
Alistair stepped forward and examined her.
“You carry inside you the mysterious powers of those who have crossed to the land of the dead,” Alistair said to her. “And from death there brings forth life.”
Alistair turned and gestured to the wounded lying on Erec’s ship.
“There are others who need you, too,” Alistair said.
Selese looked out at the rows of wounded, unsure.
“I don’t know…” she began “…if I can do it again.”
Alistair smiled and stepped forward.
“You can,” she said.
Selese crossed the deck to Erec’s ship, walked alongside the rows of wounded, and stopped before a man with a vicious cut across his shoulder. Selese tentatively reached out and touched his wound; as she did, the blue light once again flashed, and a moment later, his wound was completely healed, no trace of it left.
Selese looked at Alistair in wonder.
“I do not understand this power,” she said to Alistair.
Alistair smiled back.
“Sometimes our greatest powers,” she replied, “are the ones we can never comprehend.”
*
As Alistair walked along the deck of the ship, admiring Selese’s handiwork, all the healed soldiers, she heard her brother, Thorgrin, call out her name. She turned and her heart lifted to see him approaching. She rushed into his arms and embraced him as he gave her a long hug. She had never imagined she’d see him again.
They had both been through so much, had suffered so much, since they had last seen each other in the Ring, it was almost as if they were different people now. When she departed the Ring for the Southern Isles, she could never have imagined so much would have happened. She could never have imagined that the place she had loved, that had become home, had been completely destroyed—or that the next time she would see her brother would be halfway around the world, in a cave in the midst of an ocean, hiding from the Empire. She felt overwhelmed with waves of remorse, wishing she could have been there for all of them.
She was thrilled to be by Thor’s side again, the only person in the world who could understand the upbringing she’d had, her father, the monster Andronicus; who could understand the mother she’d only met in her dreams. It was their joint power, she realized, as siblings, that had allowed them to escape the clutches of the Empire, and being around Thor, she felt stronger, more powerful, than when they were apart. She could sense that he felt it, too.
She could also see the sadness in Thorgrin’s eyes, could sense all the suffering he’d been through, and she felt he had changed more than before. All of his suffering, from being apart from his wife, his child, had shaped him. There was a much more serious, older, look in his eyes. A warrior’s look.
“I never thought I would see you again,” Thorgrin said.
“Nor I you,” she said.
She turned and looked out at the wall of fog guarding them from the Empire.
“You have saved all of us by your work,” she said.
“It is as much your work as mine,” he replied. “I could not have done that on my own.” He looked at her questioningly. “Your powers…do you feel stronger when we are together?”
She had been thinking the same exact thing; it was eerie—it was as if the two of them shared thoughts. She did not like to speak of her powers—but with Thorgrin, it was different.
“I do,” she replied. “I feel as if the other half of my power has been restored.”
“But how did you come to be here?” he asked. “I thought you to be safely in the Southern Isles.”
She shook her head.
“We received word of what happened to the Ring. We set sail at once for the Empire, to help free you, Gwendolyn, and all the others. But why are you not with her?” she asked, puzzled.
She noticed his face fall, saw his sorrow.
“My boy,” Thorgrin said, “Guwayne. He is lost.”
Alistair’s breath caught in her throat at the news. As Thor mentioned his name, she didn’t understand what was happening to her: she was suddenly overcome by dark, troubling visions flashing through her mind, visions she could not quite understand.
Thor examined her.
“Are you all right?” he asked. “What is it?”
Alistair shook her head.
“It is nothing,” she replied. “I…just feel sorrow at your news.”
“Have you seen him?” Thorgrin asked, his voice straining with the hope of a parent. “Have you any idea where he might be?”
Slowly, sadly, she shook her head.
“I wish I could tell you otherwise,” she said.
He looked down in disappointment.
“And what of Gwendolyn?” Alistair asked.
Thor shook his head.
“I do not know,” he replied. “Last I left her, she sailed for the Empire, to find a safe refuge for our people. I cannot return to her until I find Guwayne.”
Thor looked at Alistair, studying her.
“And you?” Thorgrin asked. “Have you seen our mother yet? Have you been to the Land of the Druids?”
Alistair’s heart swelled at the thought; it was what she wanted, more than anything on earth.
“Only in my dreams,” she replied. “She visits me every night. One day I shall venture there. But the time is not now. For now, my fate is by Erec’s side. He needs me. And we are to marry.”
Thor nodded, understanding. She suddenly felt like tell
ing him the news, the news she had not yet shared with anyone, of the child within her.
“There is something else I must tell you…” she began.
Thor’s eyes lit up, and she was about to say it—but then, she stopped herself. How could she? She hadn’t even told Erec yet. It wouldn’t be fair.
Thor looked back patiently, but she shook her head and looked away. She noticed him glance down at her stomach, and somehow she felt he’d read her mind.
“Whatever it is, my sister,” he said, “you can tell me when the time is right.”
Alistair was relieved that he would allow her her silence and not press her.
“I need your help,” Thor said to her, urgency in his voice, and she turned back to him. “I need your vision. Your power. Your sight. I am at a loss. Can you help me find Guwayne?”
Alistair closed her eyes, trying to sense where Guwayne could be—but she saw only darkness once again, and, afraid, she opened them quickly.
“I am sorry,” she said. “I do not know. But I shall pray. And I shall dwell on it. Tonight and tomorrow and every day thereafter. I shall pray for the answer to come to you quickly.”
Thor nodded back, grateful.
Alistair suddenly felt a strong hand on her shoulder, and she turned to see Erec approach, smiling back at Thor.
“I’m sorry, my love,” he said to her, apologetic, “I do not wish to interrupt, but you are needed on the ships.”
Alistair hesitated, and Thor nodded to her, understanding.
“Go, my sister,” he urged. “We shall see each other again on the morrow.”
As Alistair turned and crossed the deck with Erec, holding his hand, she suddenly felt a tingling in her stomach. She placed her hand there, and felt a tremendous vibration—more powerful than any she’d ever felt.
“What is it, my lady?” Erec asked, concerned. “Do you feel ill?”
Alistair quickly lowered her hand and looked away, shaking her head. She debated whether to tell him, and at that moment, with just the two of them alone, more than anything she wanted to. She was never more proud of anything.
Yet for some reason, she did not feel the time was right. Not here, not now. Something was holding her back. There would be a better time, a better place.
“No, my love,” she said, “it is nothing at all.”
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
Godfrey raced with the others through the nighttime streets of Volusia, moving as quickly as he could, clinging to the walls and hiding in the shadows so as not to be seen. He struggled to catch his breath, sweat pouring down his neck. They had not stopped running since they’d escaped from prison, aiming for the gates at the far end of the city, and finally getting close. He was amazed he hadn’t collapsed yet, especially after the harrowing night he’d had, and amazed that the others all kept up: he had never known that Akorth and Fulton could move that quickly. Amazing, he thought, what fear could do to you.
They all burst back out onto the cobblestone streets, Merek and Ario out in front, the fastest of the bunch, and Godfrey admired them as they went, in awe at how well they had handled themselves back there. Godfrey had not done so bad himself, he knew, but if it weren’t for them both, they would all be dead right now. In some unlikely way, he realized, he had assembled the best team possible for this situation. All, except for Akorth and Fulton. Yet even they, Godfrey knew, had their unique talents, and he knew great things would come of them yet—even if in the most unlikely of times and ways.
As Godfrey ran through the streets, he noticed the piles of corpses, Darius’s men, piled high against the walls, like dogs, left to rot in the desert heat. A fresh wave of anger and remorse washed over him. He could not help but feel responsible for all of their lives; after all, it was he who had led them inside these walls, all because he had naïvely trusted in the Finians. He vowed to never be naïve again.
Gasping, Godfrey bumped into Merek and Ario as they came to sudden stop behind a corner. He looked out, and his heart leapt to see, before them, the city gates, unguarded at this late-night hour. This was their chance.
They all prepared to move, when Godfrey was suddenly overcome by a thought, and he held out his palm and stopped them.
Merek and Ario, breathing hard, turned and looked to him as if he were crazy.
“Now is our chance!” Merek cried out. “Are you mad?”
“What are you doing?” hissed Ario. “We are but feet away from freedom!”
Godfrey could not help himself. He knew this was their chance and he knew he should flee with the others. That would be the rational, the disciplined thing to do.
But Godfrey had never been disciplined—and had never been rational. He had led a life ruled by his passions—and now was not about to be an exception.
Godfrey turned and surveyed the quiet city of Volusia, and felt a fresh desire for vengeance. In the distance, towering over the city buildings, he saw the golden palace of the Finians. He looked out and saw all the dead corpses of his friends, and it did not feel just to him that these Finians should get away with it. A wrong had been done that had to be set right.
Godfrey knew this was one of those moments of his life. He could do as he always did—take the easy way out—or he could do the honorable thing: take vengeance for the deaths of his friends. For those who had depended on him. Godfrey knew that would be the hard route, the route most likely to get him killed.
But for the first time in Godfrey’s life, he no longer cared. For the first time he could remember, he understood how his father felt, and his father before him—there was more to life than safety. There was honor. And honor came with a price.
“I don’t know about you,” Godfrey said to the others, examining the golden palace, “but it doesn’t sit right with me. Those Finians are sleeping peacefully through the night. Our brothers and sisters are dead.”
They all turned, still catching their breath, sweating, and followed Godfrey’s gaze to the golden palace, and he could see the same look slowly overcoming them.
“So what are you saying?” Akorth asked. “That we turn back around?”
Godfrey smiled.
“We’ve done stupider things,” he said. “It seems awfully quiet here. I say we shake things up a bit.”
Merek smiled wide, hands on his hips.
“You know, Godfrey,” he said, “I think I’m starting to like you.”
Godfrey smiled back.
“Is that a yes?” he asked.
Merek smiled wider, turned and took his first step back toward the city.
“I’ll take vengeance over freedom any day.”
*
Godfrey raced with the others through the huge, open-air golden archway leading to the Finians’ palace, entering the palace without a hitch. At first Godfrey was surprised that there were no guards posted outside it—but then he realized that it made sense. They had no one to fear. The Finians ran the city, and no one in this city would be foolish enough to dare attack them. It was fear of them that kept everyone away. The highest form of power, Godfrey knew, was when you did not need any guards at all.
Godfrey ran right through the archway and into the palace, his bare feet cool on the marble floors, and as they all headed deeper into the massive parlor, he began to wonder which way to go. He spotted a massive golden statue and fountain, and behind it, a golden staircase, twisting up to the upper levels. Godfrey knew at once that that was where they had to go; he figured the Finians would be sleeping on the upper levels.
He ran with the others into the staircase, his bare feet cushioned on the red carpet, and they took the stairs three at a time, twisting up, higher and higher, past landing after landing, until finally they arrived at a floor lined with gold, the walls lined with gold. Godfrey, sprinting, was surprised to find a guard up here, dozing off, his back to them, clearly not expecting anyone to attack.
They all stopped, caught off guard, as the guard turned, alerted to their presence. Before he could cry out, Merek stepped fo
rward and quickly cut his throat with his dagger, and Ario ran up behind the guard and covered his mouth so that he would not make a sound. They worked well together: the guard dropped down to his feet, silently, dead.
They all continued running down the hall, until they came to the first large doorway, made of gold. Godfrey led the way as the group burst in, ready to kill whatever Finian they found.
But as they entered the dim chamber, lit only by torches, Godfrey stopped short, shocked by what he saw.
It was a treasury. The room was filled with jewels and treasures of every kind imaginable. Godfrey stopped and started in. Godfrey was used to seeing gold in his father’s court—but he had never seen anything like this. The amount of wealth here, nearly piled to the ceiling, was staggering. Even one of the necklaces he saw before him, draped with diamonds and rubies, could bankroll an army.
Merek, Ario, Akorth, and Fulton rushed in and began to gather them, filling their hands and pockets with precious trinkets, until finally Godfrey ran over and stopped them.
“Our time is short here,” he said. “Would you rather have jewels or would you rather have vengeance?”
They all stopped, understanding, carried away by their greed, and turned and followed him, letting the rest of it go.
Godfrey, followed by the others, turned and ran down the hall until he came to another arched, golden door, smaller than the last. This time he tried the handle and it was locked.
He put his shoulder into it, and Merek and Ario joined him, but it would not give.
Akorth and Fulton rushed forward and joined them, throwing their shoulders and their weight into it.
They all rammed it together, and on the third try, it smashed open, breaking into bits.
“Finally,” Akorth said, “I’m good for something.”
Godfrey was the first person in and as he entered, he saw the Finian leader, Fitus, the man who had betrayed him, sit up in a luxurious bed of silk sheets. He looked like a startled child, with his pale face and big shock of red hair, face covered in freckles.
“How are you alive?” Fitus called out, in shock, reaching out for a gold-hilted dagger beside his bed.
