by M S C Barnes
groaned, as if the effort of stopping these two was becoming too much.
Seb was appalled. Even with Mr Duir’s sanction he couldn’t do it.
“Seb, he can’t hold them off much longer,” Dierne called out, fighting back his own anguish.
Then Seb felt a touch on his arm. Nat, her eyes understanding, said, “If you do not do it, Seb, they will destroy you, all of us and everything every group has worked for for millennia. You have no choice. Mr Duir knows that.”
Seb was shaking. Unsteady, he placed a hand on Cue, feeling the strength from the beast. How do I use their power? he thought, and suddenly a line of thousands of fairies split away from the domed roof. The flamers they carried fizzled out as, in groups, they stopped within the gaps between the wolves and linked their tiny arms. One fairy on the end of each chain grasped the fur of the wolf beside them. As the last fairy in the line nearest Seb placed his minute hand onto Seb’s arm the chain was complete and Seb was stunned; he felt a surge of power and strength that filled every part of him. His mind reeled and he closed his eyes, trying to control it.
And, in the darkness, he was astounded. From directly in front of him he could feel the essence of each of the souls within the shell of Mr Duir’s body. He could see how little domain Aelfric Duir had left, how much of his control had been overrun by Heath and Braddock and he could see, as though it were a tangible thing, the excruciating pain his soul was suffering. These vengeful and spiteful souls were tapping into his memories and making him relive them. But the memories they were triggering were the painful ones, the losses, the heartbreaks, the failures.
Braddock had said his vengeance would be catastrophic, and for Mr Duir it was. He was trapped in a mire of hideous, agonising thoughts and experiences, as if every old wound was being torn open. Seb could see the unbearable torture his soul was going through.
But, right at the centre, was a small piercing point of light, a resilient, optimistic and determined thought, as if Aelfric Duir was repeating a mantra over and over, holding on to the fundamental core of himself. Like a diamond in a fire, untouched, indestructible, he held the thought and now Seb had something to hook onto. Opening his eyes he looked at Mr Duir then, feeling the power surging through him from the wolves; he harnessed it, controlled it and then he tilted his arm to catch the moonlight. But he didn’t strike.
“Seb,” Zach shouted. “Come on, mate. You have to do it.”
Seb didn’t react. He focused on the pinpoint of resistance and held off. He could see the mayhem, the monstrous gloating of Braddock as he unlocked more and more of the painful memories within this Custodian mind. He could see the spiteful satisfaction of Heath and he knew that each second brought more pain to Mr Duir. But he had to wait.
“Seb!” Nat was crying, “he is in so much pain.”
The wolves were growling and, as they sensed the evil inside Mr Duir grow, their power increased. Seb absorbed it, held it back, waited.
He said quietly to Alice, “Can you speak to Dierne?”
Alice answered in his head, “Yes, whatever was blocking us before has gone.”
Seb knew exactly what had been blocking them – Braddock. But Braddock was now busy, preoccupied with inflicting as much suffering as he could on Aelfric Duir.
Nat was still crying.
Scarlet shouted at Seb, “Seb, what are you waiting for?”
The power of the wolves grew and Seb groaned under the weight of the energy he was channelling. He watched carefully and still waited. And then he saw it, the slightest movement of Mr Duir’s left arm.
“Tell Dierne Mr Duir can let it go.”
Alice didn’t question, he passed the message. At that moment Mr Duir’s arm lifted and twisted, capturing moonlight and the beam was turned straight onto Seb. Seb reacted instantly and turned his own hand. A bolt of silver light shot from it as the one from Mr Duir’s palm shot towards him. Halfway between, the two beams met. It was no contest. With the power of the wolf-stags Seb’s shot was stronger. It drove the silver fire through the oncoming bolt and it hit home, directly into Mr Duir’s hand.
Closing his eyes, Seb watched the internal impact. As he had hoped, the power from his shot forged its way back along the path the oncoming shot had taken. It spread and burned and destroyed as it went, tearing Braddock and Heath from the space within Mr Duir’s body. The souls, overpowered, were thrown from him and now Seb opened his eyes once more. A swirl of mist was curling up and away from Mr Duir’s body as he fell to the ground. Seb was ready; he caught the light from the moon, focused all the power he could from the wolves and transferred it into the light he fired towards the vapour which had swelled into a cloud, decimating it, dispersing it into millions of droplets which froze in mid-air. They hung there for a second, like a deluge of rain captured in a stills photograph. Seb stared at the splintered remains of these souls and felt no pity, no remorse.
Quietly he said, “You are banished.”
A violent wind tore through the air, ten times more powerful than the one Braddock had managed to summons, but it touched nothing except those tiny fragments. Those alone were swept forward in its path and driven into the Soul Drop. There was a haunting, howling sound as the souls disappeared and the chasm slammed shut, leaving just the mirrored surfaces of the tower.
“Close it, Seb,” Mr West called.
Seb waved his arm towards the tower and it slammed down into the ground. The movement was so violent that a spray of sandy, crystalline dirt rose a foot in the air. When it settled, all that remained was the mottled surface of the tower, lying as a stone inlaid in the earth.
Quickly, Aiden and the teachers moved forward and each placed their mirrors face down onto the stone. There was a click as the four triangular heart shapes slotted together, connected by the one protruding silver bar Seb had seen on each. As they stepped back Seb saw the full shape; it looked like four hearts, stitched together to form a continuous knot.
“Will it hold, Greg?” Miss Angel asked.
Greg West turned from the stone. “For now.”
Eternal Damnation
Dierne knelt beside Mr Duir, who wasn’t moving. Seb, breaking the link with the wolves, tried to run over but stumbled. He felt totally drained. Alice grabbed him under one arm and Zach took the other.
“Steady, Seb.”
He pushed them gently away and made his way to kneel beside Dierne.
“Is he alive?”
Dierne looked devastated. There was no movement of Mr Duir’s chest, no obvious signs of breathing. Now the teachers gathered. Mr West knelt and put two fingers to his neck. He shook his head sadly.
“No pulse.”
“But, I thought I made only the two souls come out!” Seb wouldn’t accept he had killed him. Couldn’t. “Only two!” he repeated. “I tried …” his voice cracked and he stopped speaking.
“I couldn’t even see two, just one big cloud,” Aiden said sadly.
That was even worse for Seb. If three had emerged and he had struck them all, then Mr Duir too was trapped in that dark place, a splintered soul, cursed to spend eternity with the two worst souls imaginable.
“Seb, it was impossible to tell them apart,” Scarlet said.
Seb, guilty, wanted an answer. He glared at Mr West. “Well?” He couldn’t help sounding rude.
“I don’t know,” Mr West said carefully. “There is no pulse, no breathing. He seems … dead.”
“Can you not tell? Surely you can sense! So you can sense if he is there or not!” Seb shouted now, grabbing Mr Duir’s hand. It still felt warm.
Mr West was shaking his head and Nat spoke for him.
“Seb, there is nothing, no sense of a person, a soul – nothing.”
Seb stared at the lifeless body, the blood congealed on his forehead, the gaping wounds on his jaw and neck, the misshapen arm, the many cuts and bruises where the gytrash had attacked. Mr Duir’s eyes were closed and he looked ghostly pale, drained of life. Seb twiste
d his hand, lifting it to look.
“Do not. Leave him be,” Dierne said. He was grief-stricken and rivulets of tears ran down his cheeks.
“I am sorry. I have to,” Seb said, rotating Mr Duir’s hand. Then he fell backwards with a gasp.
“What? What?” Dierne demanded.
“What, Seb?” Scarlet asked.
“His birthmark: the lines are all silver!”
“So?” Zach didn’t get the point.
Seb realised none of them had seen the burned line he had seen. He wasn’t even sure that any of the teachers knew, other than Mr West.
“Yesterday, after he was attacked at the Sacred Place by Braddock, one of the lines of his birthmark was singed, burned black. Now it’s silver again.
“He’s a quick healer then.” Zach didn’t think it was of any significance.
“No,” Scarlet shouted. “I saw it just before he was attacked by Heath and Braddock; it was still blackened then.” Scarlet had obviously seen too and, for whatever reason, chosen not to say anything.
“Well so what? He’s still dead!” Zach said bluntly.
That much was true, Seb realised – there really were no signs of life at all. Maybe in death a Custodian’s body was preserved, but Aelfric Duir’s soul? That had apparently been banished, condemned to a hell Seb could only imagine, or had it just disappeared into the ether … to float back to Áberan, anonymous, unknown, unrecognised, as though Aelfric Duir had never existed? Seb couldn’t bear that thought. Guilt consumed him. He had tried so hard to just pick out the evil,
