The Spell, The Stones, and The Treasure (Fated Chronicles Book 3)

by Humphrey Quinn

  “I will be careful,” she promised. A smile cracked.

  “What’s funny?”

  “You. Being all concerned and stuff. You could make a sister think you care.”

  He shook his head. “You don’t make it easy.”

  “I will be careful,” she promised. “And I’ll find you just as soon as this is over.”

  “Okay,” he sighed, joining Nona.

  Sebastien turned to follow Ivan.

  “What? Not going to say goodbye?” Meghan asked him.

  He spun around, came back, leaned in and planted his cool lips straight on to hers.

  The rest of the world vanished, seemingly screeching to a halt.

  Her heart stuttered, skipping in stunned rhythm.

  He let go, and leaned into her ear. “Just so there’s no confusion about how I feel.”

  He rejoined Ivan and Nona.

  Meghan was blind to their responses as they vanished into the flame. She couldn’t find her voice. It had gone. Possibly never to return.

  “You know you’re going to have to forgive him,” said Colin, grinning smugly.

  She shrugged, still unable to find her voice.

  “Sebastien is obviously crazy about you. I know you used to have a wicked crush on him.”

  “Colin, I don’t know if it’s that easy,” she said, finally able to feel her vocal chords working again. “It’s just... it’s just as much as I like him, when I start to think about Sebastien, right after the gee, he makes my knees buckle all there is... is disappointment. I’m angry. I know he was under orders from a crazy woman, but he hurt you. He knew Uncle Arnon was alive and he didn’t even try to let us know. I’m having a hard time getting past that.”

  “Not to bring up other terrible subjects, but someone I know fairly recently did a few things I didn’t think I’d be able to get beyond either. But I have. And here I am, talking to her again.”

  Meghan’s face fell.

  “Let me put it this way, if Sebastien were the one being held captive right now, and not Catrina, would you fight this hard to free him?”

  “Of course I would. It’s Sebastien,” she replied without hesitation.

  “Then there’s your answer, Sis. We’ve all made mistakes.”

  Meghan had to fight off the water works again. “You know, Colin, you are way too grown up for my liking right now.”

  “Being on the run will do that to you, I guess.”

  “I miss this,” Meghan said. “I miss us. Like this. Just talking.”

  “I know. I do too.”

  “Just... just make me one promise, okay,” she pleaded.

  “I’ll try.”

  “Just promise me that no matter what, and screw whatever the prophecy says, let’s never, ever, battle each other.”

  “I have no intention to battle you. I don’t want to battle anyone. I don’t always like this power I’ve got,” he said. “Sometimes it makes me do things I might not normally do. But it will never make me hurt you.”

  “Okay, so no killing each other,” she agreed, sniffling. “What do you say, shall we go free my grandmother?”

  “Yeah,” breathed out Colin. “Let’s go.”

  She grasped his hand and Colin magicked them just outside the gate to the Fazendiin estate.

  CHAPTER 40

  Ivan and Sebastien returned to the banished encampment only to find themselves in the middle of a hectic scene. Dawn was coming, sun just starting to peek over the tree line.

  “What’s going on?” Ivan asked a young man, securing a belt filled with potions across his shoulder.

  “Preparing to confront Fazendiin. Take back the Stone.”

  Ivan turned wearily to Sebastien. “I guess we got back just in time.”

  “Yeah. Looks that way. I’m gonna go find my parents.”

  “Yeah, um, before you go. One thing...”

  Sebastien cut him off. “Don’t bother lecturing me, Ivan. I know one kiss isn’t going to change anything. I didn’t know how to express what it felt like to leave her. I needed her to know, though, just in case.”

  “In case of what?”

  “Look around, Ivan. What are the chances that we’re all getting through this alive? Maybe Meghan and Colin will, but the rest of us are mere mortals. Now’s the time to tell people what they mean to you, even if you do make a total fool of yourself.” Sebastien pointed at himself, and headed home.

  Ivan scowled. Sebastien’s words cut into him. He had never feared death before.

  He had to shake it off before it dragged him into a dark place. Instead, he sought out a familiar face, to tell him exactly what was happening.

  The first familiar face he found was Billie’s.

  “Ivan,” she called out upon seeing him. “You look tired, boy.”

  “I’m fine,” he insisted. “So what’s going on? I’ve been gone.”

  “The banished and the Tunkapog have joined forces to take back the Stone from Fazendiin. You missed the part where he invited us to do so.”

  “Huh?”

  “Yup. Sent a message inviting us to meet him and claims he’ll just hand it over.”

  “I don’t believe for a moment he would just hand it over.”

  Billie chuckled, slinging a belt across her shoulder. “Neither do we.”

  “Hence the battle preparations,” Ivan noted.

  Billie fastened the belt, tightening it securely. “You’ll be joining us then?” she asked him. “Just me, Noah, and Maura joining from my crew. The rest will stay behind to assist here. Maria and Noah’s wife will watch over them.”

  “Maria’s okay then?”

  “Sure sure. Just fine. She comes from hearty stock, that one. She’ll go far in this nightmare we’ve created for ourselves.”

  Ivan nodded, only half-paying attention.

  “How are you?” Billie asked, concerned.

  “I’m fine, Billie. Fine. And yes, I will be joining you,” Ivan told her.

  “Well good. If you want to say hello, Maria’s just inside that house over there,” she replied with a wink, pointing over her shoulder.

  “Okay. Thanks. Um, when are we pulling out?”

  “This evening I think. Fazendiin told us when to meet him, but we’re still waiting on the where.”

  “See you then,” Ivan replied, starting towards the house where Maria was supposed to be, only to stop in his tracks.

  A pack of snarling wolverines darted right in front of him, on their way to join the army. Ivan knew that the Tunkapog could transform into animals, but seeing it still gave him an awed pause.

  After they passed by, he looked up to see Maria standing and waving in the front door. For a moment, he thought about just waving back, and running the other way.

  “So I can battle Stripers, face a confrontation with Fazendiin, but not say hello to a girl...” He cleared his throat, continuing toward Maria, every step heavy and awkward.

  “Ivan, hello. I was hoping to see you again.”

  Maria was no girl. She was thin, and her skin smooth with youth, but her brown eyes cried out old soul, and her kind smile welcomed him in as if he had just arrived home after a long journey. Ivan didn’t know what was wrong with him. He choked over his words, nothing coming out.

  Maria bit her lip trying not to laugh at him.

  “Come inside,” she offered. “Sit. Warm up. Have a nice hot meal before you,” she sucked in a breath, “go to war...” She tried to keep her smile, but it weakened.

  He obliged, stepping inside and took a seat at the table. He was surprised the kitchen was empty. It was just him and Maria. He assumed the rest of Billie’s crew would be here too.

  “From what I hear, there might not even be a war,” he told her, with a slight stutter. He had wanted it to sound comforting, but it sounded anything but.

  “Do you believe that?” she asked him.

  “No. I don’t believe it. Not for a minute. Someone like Fazendiin doesn’t just hand over his most powerful weapon.”<
br />
  She sighed, mournfully.

  “Everyone will be okay,” he promised. He didn’t know why he said it. He could guarantee no such thing. He wanted to lie and insist everything would work out in the end. But what good would lying do? He didn’t believe in fake comfort. And yet this thing inside him made him want to fake it, if it gave Maria security in some way.

  She leaned over the stove, lifting a burner to stoke the fire. She replaced the burner and moved a pot that was sitting near the back of the stove over the hot burner.

  Ivan didn’t take his eyes off her, watching her every move.

  He wanted to kick himself when she turned to come back; he should have gotten up and offered to help.

  “Do you think this will ever end?” she asked him. “I’m tired of losing everyone I care about,” she spoke honestly. “I don’t want to lose anyone else.”

  The frankness with which she spoke caught Ivan at a momentary loss for words. He might want to fake his answers to make her feel better, however, he got the sense she wanted the truth. And was strong enough to handle the truth.

  “Yes. I do think this will all come to an end. One day, we’ll live on the island again. Peacefully. Our world will be whole again.”

  She clung to those words as if his mere expression of them could will them into reality.

  “You live an exciting life,” she expressed, her words catching him off guard again.

  “I... I don’t prefer to,” he claimed.

  “But it is an important life,” she added. A hint of a smile appeared. “I think somewhere deep down, you do prefer it. Maybe not all the drama that comes with an exciting life, but you thrive on the importance of what you’re doing.”

  “I think it is more like, it’s the only way of living I know,” he said, surprised at his own frankness. “I’ve never lived any other way.”

  Her eyes turned to a deeper brown, if that was possible, tinged with sadness. He felt like everything he said, which was meant to make her feel better, somehow made her feel worse.

  “I don’t mind doing my part, that much is true,” he explained, hoping to alleviate the sadness he saw. “And maybe, at times, I will admit I do thrive on the excitement. But I don’t enjoy it. I have never enjoyed it.”

  The sadness in her eyes only deepened even more.

  Once again, he had made it worse by speaking. Why did people find so much comfort in sharing their feelings? This wasn’t comforting at all.

  “That means you have never enjoyed life, Ivan. If this is the only way you have lived, why do you fight? What keeps you going?” She spoke with an earnest need to know and understand. “If this life has given you nothing but a joyless existence, why do you feel any duty to fight for it?”

  He just stared, unable to find the words to reply. He had been fighting for so long he didn’t know any other way to live. And now that his mother was alive, and everyone knew Juliska Blackwell was evil, what was his purpose in this life?

  “I’m sorry,” she said suddenly. “I shouldn’t say such things. I don’t normally rattle on so much. I’m just afraid, for everyone. For you,” she admitted. “All I have ever wanted is a simple life. I was so happy when we returned to the island. I thought everything would go back to the way it used to be. Naive, I know.”

  “Not naive,” he insisted. “Hopeful. And that’s not wrong. I may not live a simple life, by any meaning of the word, and I might not know my exact purpose in this life, yet. But there are people who depend on me. I have a sister who depends on me. And I will always put duty first. Winning this war and overthrowing the people responsible for creating this perverted version of our world is the most important thing I can do with my life. Maybe, if we are very lucky, that simple life... you could still have it, Maria. It’s not lost yet.”

  Maria beamed, her eyes swimming in tears not quite falling. “I think you just found your purpose, Ivan Crane,” she whispered. “You know, I think you would make an incredible leader.”

  “Me? No.”

  “Yes. You embody everything we are supposed be about, Ivan. You’re fair. You’re brave. You’re honest. You stand up for what’s right no matter the cost to yourself.”

  Ivan’s face got hot. “You think too highly of me.”

  “See,” she argued. “That’s why right there.”

  He tossed her a confused look.

  She just smiled and turned back to the stove.

  Ivan felt lighter. Tired still. Very tired. However, the constant pressure that had been squeezing his chest for days had lessened.

  With little effort, Maria had shown him that he did have a purpose in this life. He stared in awe, watching her ladle stew into a deep bowl.

  How was it she could needle her way into his feelings so easily? Feelings he hadn’t even admitted to himself, and yet somehow it didn’t hurt him. It didn’t bother him that she did this. It was a pleasant sort of pain.

  She returned to the table with a steaming bowl of stew. “Eat,” she ordered gently.

  Ivan obeyed at once.

  He didn’t know if it was because he hadn’t had a normal meal in days, or that the food was truly delicious, but he couldn’t get enough. Each bite melted in his mouth, an array of flavors, each blended together, perfectly.

  “I never got a chance to thank you,” Maria said after a while.

  “Thank me for what?” he asked between bites. “Sorry, I just have to say, this might be the best thing I’ve ever eaten.”

  “There’s plenty more,” she replied lightheartedly. “And the reason I needed to thank you, was for literally carrying me across a meadow when I was injured by that falling tree. You probably didn’t even know it was me you were carrying...”

  “No, I did,” he let slip out. “Someone shouted you’d been injured and I rushed over to,” he stopped and hastily shoved a spoonful of stew into his mouth.

  Maria turned away unable to hide a shy smile.

  When she turned back, Ivan was yawning.

  “You’re tired. You should get some rest.”

  “No time,” he said sleepily.

  “You have time,” she insisted. “You’ve got hours before the army pulls out.”

  Ivan’s eyelids started to feel heavy. They desperately wanted to close.

  “Here, let me help you to bed. There’s an empty one just in here.” She assisted him into the room and he fell onto the bed. She lifted his legs and took off his boots.

  “Sorry, I feel so tired all of a sudden,” he slurred.

  “Just rest,” Maria encouraged. She leaned down and kissed him on the forehead. “You’ll feel good as new in a few hours. I promise.”

  Ivan fell into a deep sleep.

  For what felt like days.

  His dreams were vivid and yet distant; sometimes reliving the previous months of his life, sometimes melting into nightmares about the months to come.

  What seemed like ages later, his eyes burst open and he sat up, his mind suddenly awake and sharp. It took him a moment to remember where he was.

  He looked down and saw his boots, all cleaned up and ready for him to put back on. His jacket was hanging over the edge of the bed.

  He got dressed and went back out into the kitchen.

  Maria was sitting at the table with a smile he could get used to greeting him every time he woke up.

  “How long was I out?”

  “About four hours.”

  “That’s it? It felt like much longer.”

  An apologetic grin spread across her face.

  “You did that, didn’t you?” It came out more harshly than he planned.

  “Don’t be mad, please. You looked so tired. I wanted to repay the favor, help you in some way. To say thanks for everything you’ve done and everything you’re about to do. Rest, was all I had to offer you.”

  He wanted to be mad. But he felt better than he had in weeks. Renewed. Sharp, ready to face the oncoming battle. He also wanted to tell her that she had much more to offer than just a sleeping
potion, but he suddenly felt his cheeks burning and decided to reply, “Maybe next time just warn me or something, before you drug me.”

  “So you can be all manly, and stubborn, and refuse?” she exclaimed innocently. “I’ve been taking care of my dad these last few years, so I know a thing or two about the stubborn of men.” Her eyes grew watery as she finished, and she turned away from him so he could not see.

  Ivan had two realizations just then.

  One, he wanted there to be a next time.

  And second...

  “Maria, you lost your father, didn’t you?”

  She did not respond. He heard her attempts at holding in her sniffles.

  Hearing her cry was possibly the most dreadful thing he had ever heard. It felt like someone was trying to reach in and pull out his heart.

  “This is why I keep fighting,” he told her. “It won’t always be like this. I know it doesn’t bring your dad, or anyone else we’ve lost, back. But we can make their deaths matter. Make sure they didn’t die in vain.”

  She nodded, still with her back to him, unable to respond with words.

  He came up behind her, leaning in, wanting to comfort her. To tell her he would make everything right. But what could he really offer her? Yes, he would keep on fighting, but to what end? He said he believed it would end, but did he really believe it? Did he really believe he would survive through it? Would anyone he cared about survive? Sebastien’s words rang heavy in his mind.

  He lifted his hand to stroke her hair but he didn’t quite make it, letting his arm drop back to his side. He hated himself for not being able to comfort her. She deserved better than that.

  He turned to leave, and paused just before he opened the door.

  “You’re very easy to be around,” he told her. “That might not mean much to you, but it’s... it’s not easy for me to say. Can I ask you to do just one thing, Maria?”

  She wiped her eyes and turned to him, nodding.

  “I’ve always thought your kindness was extraordinary. Please don’t let this ugliness we’re shrouded in, take that away. Our world needs more people like you.”

  He left the house and leaned up against the door.