Usually their approach was scattered, with villages targeted as they learned of them. There was no pattern to the destruction. They might hit a village in the north, then head south, then return to the north only days later. They followed their intelligence or trackers wherever they led.
This year, however, they were following a relatively straight line. Early in the summer reports reached Alarick that the Ministry was moving north out of London. Instead of turning back to London, though, or heading off in another direction, the Ministry continued moving north all through the summer, destroying villages as they went. It was almost as if they knew exactly where each village was located, and they were simply pursuing the most efficient path of extermination. It was as though they were relying on some infallible source of information instead of the haphazard intelligence they'd used in the past.
At first it didn't concern Alarick overmuch. But as the summer wore on and the northward line never veered from its course, Alarick became worried. He pored over maps every evening, alone in the library, hoping to find another possibility, another path. But every time he drew a line extrapolating the Ministry's future path from their current one, the line ended at the Keep.
John tried to tell him it was ridiculous, that it was all coincidence. No one in the Ministry knew where the Keep was, and no wizard or witch would dare reveal it.
"Why would anyone jeopardize the one safe place to which they could run?" he asked Alarick. "It wouldn't make sense."
Alarick wasn't so certain. Ammenberg had taught him that even his own kind could not be trusted completely.
Within weeks of that conversation, the Ministry was within a hundred miles of the Keep. Alarick sent scouts south to get as close as possible, to try to learn the Ministry's plans, or at least how it was that they seemed to have newfound tracking abilities. He needed facts, not random lines on a map pointing to a worst-case scenario.
"Do you think we should evacuate?" Alarick asked John one day in late August. "As a precautionary measure?"
John shrugged. "We could, but we run the risk of sending people out directly into the Ministry's path. Not knowing their intentions, it's possible that we send our people out just as they change direction. We have no reason to believe they know where we are. For all we know, they'll pass right by us as they always have before."
"And if they don't?"
"Then we fight."
"We cannot win," Alarick said.
"We've known that all along," John said.
Alarick sighed. John was right. They'd all known the endgame for years, now. The options were to stay invisible or die. That calculus had not changed. What had changed, at least for Alarick, was the fact that he had a wife and child to protect. He still couldn't shake from his mind the image of Elissa dying in the library. Death was no longer an easy, theoretical option.
For the first time in a long time, Alarick desperately wished for guidance from Master Hale. Even dead, Marius might have provided some welcome advice, but he didn't dare ask Elissa to summon Marius from the book. Alarick wasn't superstitious by nature, but the world already felt like the balance was tilted toward evil. Summoning the dead didn't seem like a great idea in times like these. Some forces should never be awakened, or even tempted.
Alarick tried to put the Ministry out of his mind. The scouts were out there. They would tell him what he needed to know. Then he would act, and he would act based on facts, not suppositions, fear, or hope. Until then, he played with Frances and spent as much time with Elissa as possible.
He did not share his concerns with Elissa. She would have supported him, but he did not want to burden her with his fears. Until he knew for certain whether or not there was real danger, he only shared his worries with John in the private sanctum of the Keep's storage room.
Two days later, Alarick was walking through the gardens with Elissa and Frances when the scouts returned. Brian, the leader, rushed up to him.
"Sir," he began, but Alarick cut him off with a slashing motion of his hand. He inclined his head toward Elissa. Brian nodded, understanding.
"I'll go find John and we'll wait for you in his room," Brian said.
"Thank you," Alarick said.
"What was that about?" Elissa asked.
"Doubtless there's been another sacking," Alarick lied. "I'll see to it in a while."
"Go on. You can take Frances and I back to the library on your way. I want to work on those books the team brought back from Duncaster last week."
Alarick remembered the sacking well. The scout team reported an increase in brutality and cruelty in the killings. No longer content to simply shoot or stab the magicals, the Ministry had decapitated a large number of villagers, or subjected them to slow, agonizing deaths by dealing them fatal gut wounds or beating them nearly to death and leaving them to die in the summer sun.
The war was escalating from a mere job for the Ministry to something worse. It seemed to be no longer about the simple elimination of a perceived threat, but more about terrorism and punishment. Alarick worried more about this than anything else. Facing death was one thing. Death as a concept did not frighten him. Some days the nothingness it offered seemed like it might be a blessing.
Facing a painful, protracted death was something else, something for which he did not believe he had the courage. Particularly if forced to watch his family die in horrific ways first.
He deposited Elissa in the library and went downstairs to the room John and Margaret shared and which now doubled as John's office. Both Brian and John were already there, looking grim.
"How bad is it?" Alarick asked as soon as the door shut behind him.
Brian looked to John, who nodded.
"Alarick, I don't know how to tell you this," John began.
"Quickly and honestly is best," Alarick said, a sick feeling rising in his gut. Whatever this was about, it was bad. If Brian had abdicated the job of reporting the news to John, it was likely terrible.
"It's your father," John said.
"What about the bastard?" Alarick asked.
"He's the one leading the Ministry's forces. And he's leading them here."
Alarick sat down hard in the nearest chair and put his head in his hands.
"Of course," he whispered. "I denied him refuge here. Likely the Ministry caught him, and he bargained for his life. 'I'll give you the Keep and any other magical village you want as long as you let me live.' Am I right?" he asked, raising his head and looking up at Brian.
"We're fairly certain that's what happened," Brian said. "We overheard some bits of conversation referencing his capture in London. Evidently, he and your mother were living on the streets and were caught when your father used magic to steal some food from a street stall."
"Any sign of my mother?" Alarick asked.
Brian again looked to John.
"She's dead," John told him. "The scout team overheard the Ministry talking about how cruel your father was to include her in the bargain for his own life. Throwing your wife to the wolves to save your own skin is apparently low, even for the Ministry."
"But not for Patrick Brandon," Alarick said, wondering just how deranged the man had to be to sacrifice his own wife so that he might live.
"The fool doesn't understand that the Ministry will kill him the minute he ceases to be useful, does he?" Alarick muttered, more to himself than the others. "Of course not. His arrogance assures him that he is indispensable and thus immortal. It's almost a pity they'll likely kill me before I can watch them kill him."
Louder, he asked, "How long do we have?"
"We estimate two days," Brian said. "Could be longer if they rest or spend more time sacking the next village. Could be less if they speed their way here."
Alarick stood and squared his shoulders. Well, now he knew the worst. Now he could plan.
"Is there any way to stop them before they reach us?" Alarick asked Brian. "More specifically, is there any way to remove my father from the situation? Without him, they won'
t have such an easy time finding us."
Brian shook his head. "Doubtful. This regiment is the largest I've ever seen. They easily number over a thousand men. Your father is under heavy guard. The Ministry knows how valuable he is, and they are not risking him. You could try, I suppose, to get close enough to hit him with a killing spell, but you would never get out alive, even if you managed it."
Brian grabbed a sheet of parchment and quill from John's desk and began to draw. He drew the Ministry's encampment, showing the positions of the guards, the lookouts, Alarick's father, and explaining roughly how the weapons and men were arrayed around the camp.
"Unlikely, then," Alarick said after evaluating the map. "My father is gifted at defensive spells. It would take too much time to wear him down, even if I could reach him. I would die and he would not. Pointless.
"We need to evacuate the Keep. My father knows exactly where we are and, worse, he's strong enough to cut through our enchantments and reveal us. We can fight, but we cannot win against those numbers," he said, tapping the map with his index finger.
"You know we would fight willingly," John said. "To the end."
Brian nodded his agreement.
"I know it, and I appreciate it. But my job is to protect the residents of this place. I can no longer do that. The time for protection has passed. I can only hope to give you all a chance to escape and perhaps a longer life elsewhere.
"Round everyone up and head out to the north. We have no evidence that the Ministry is watching from that direction, so perhaps you can make a clean escape. Go out in small groups and take slightly different directions through the forest once you reach the bottom of Dark Peak. It will be harder to track all of you that way. I'll try to peregrinate as many as I can to safety, but I cannot take many without exhausting myself. Prioritize the elderly and infirm for me and have them waiting in the dining hall. I'll take them as soon as I'm able. Most of the others will have to go on foot, I'm afraid.
"My best advice is to try to reach some of the other refuges in the world. I'll write to my friends and let them know to be on the lookout for any of you who can make it to their camps. Go," he said when the men simply stared at him. "Get my people out."
"Yes sir," Brian said as he headed out into the hall.
"What about you?" John asked, folding his arms and facing his friend.
"In all the stories, the captain goes down with the ship, doesn't he?" Alarick asked. "I will stay and fight as long as I can. I should be able to keep the Ministry confused and engaged for a while. If I'm very lucky I'll get to kill the son of a bitch Patrick Brandon before the Ministry kills me. I'll fight to buy you time to get further away before the Ministry realizes no one is here and begins searching the area."
"What about Elissa and Frances?"
"I want you and Margaret to take them with you. I trust you to keep them alive as long as you can," Alarick said.
John nodded. "I know there's no point in trying to talk you into coming with us."
"There's not. And I don't want you offering anything heroic like staying with me to the end. You need to take care of Margaret and my girls. You need to be the one to help the others escape. My job now is simply to die while taking as many of the bastards with me as I can. It is you who has the more difficult job. You have to live on in this wretched world. And for that I am sorry."
"You're wrong," John said. "Giving up your family will not be as easy as you think."
Alarick's heart was already shattering. "I know. But part of me always knew they were never mine to keep. I didn't deserve them. Still, it will be a relief to die knowing what happiness is. I always feared I would die without that knowledge. At the very least, the loss will make me fight like a wounded animal, and we both know there is nothing more dangerous than that."
"I am sorry," was all John said.
"There is nothing to be sorry for. It simply is the hand we are dealt."
The two men stared at each other for a long moment and then embraced. It wasn't the quick embrace of two friends, but rather the long embrace of two brothers, bound across a generation by mutual love and respect for one another. It was an embrace signaling the forever goodbye.
"I'll see you before we go," John said.
"Things are going to get chaotic. In case I can't find you, I want you to know—" Alarick began.
John nodded. "I know. Master Hale would be proud of you," John said.
"He'd be proud of both of us, I think," Alarick said.
"Either that or he'd think we're a couple of fools," John said, managing a chuckle.
Alarick laughed, too, as John left the room to begin the evacuation.
The laughter faded, however, as Alarick went upstairs to the library to tell Elissa that their time together was at an end.
20
Alarick found Elissa and Frances in the library. Frances slept in the bassinet Alarick had moved in weeks ago to make it easier for Elissa to work and care for the baby. Alarick went to the bassinet and peered down at his daughter. She'd kicked off the covers as she always did and slept with one arm thrown over her head. It always made Alarick smile, this defiant posture of hers.
He ran one finger down the soft cheek and brushed a stray curl from her forehead. A single tear tracked down his cheek. He wanted to scream, to rage at what he was about to lose, but it would do no good. He'd always known the unfairness of life, but this seemed too much for even his damaged soul to bear. To give in to the pain would only cripple him and right now he needed all his strength, both for the coming battle and to part from Elissa.
"Alarick?" Elissa asked as he crossed the library to where she worked in the scriptorium.
"Yes," he said, moving to stand behind her. He peered over her shoulder. She was working on her book, adding some notes on the Keep's newest residents and Frances' milestones. Alarick sighed. The book and everything else was at an end. There would be no happily ever after.
He placed a hand on her shoulder. "Can you stop for a moment? I must speak with you," he said.
"Of course. You sound serious," she said as she stood and kissed him lightly on the cheek. If she felt the dampness of his tears there, she gave no indication.
He guided her over to the sofa and sat down next to her, holding her hand in his.
"There's no easy way to say this," he began and then over the next minutes he explained, as unemotionally as possible, the coming threat to all they held dear.
As he talked and she processed what he was saying, her face changed from interest to rage to horror.
"I want you and Frances to go with John and Margaret," he said near the end of his explanation. "They can keep you safe and give you the best chance at a long life. As long as Margaret is alive, her ability to peregrinate should keep you ahead of the Ministry. Go to Adil's, at least to start. His is likely the safest place for now."
"No," Elissa said, turning so that she faced him.
Alarick saw the stubborn lift of her chin and the intensity in her sightless gaze and knew he was in for a battle.
"No? You will not leave this place?" he asked.
"I will send Frances with John and Margaret. You are correct about them being her best chance. But I will stay with you," she said.
"You have to go. You must take Frances to safety. You're her mother!" he said, thoughts of how easily his own father abandoned him rampaging through his mind. "You cannot send her away without you."
"And you're her father," she retorted. "And my husband. You're just as important to her and to me, and yet you're willing to send both of us away so you can die here."
"It's not the same."
"Yes, it is. And I'm not leaving. I'm not leaving you, and I'm not leaving the library. You know my duty as a Book Mesmer. You know what has to happen to me. If anything, it's you who should take Frances and go. Your ability to peregrinate might keep her safe for a while."
"No," he roared. "You know I would not leave you here."
He stood and stalked the room,
kicking over a pile of books in frustration. Elissa winced at the violence to her beloved books. Alarick saw it and fury burst forth.
"Fuck this goddamn library! You will not die here. You have a chance to escape. Leave the books. Leave me! Let me die knowing you are safe."
"Please come back," she said calmly, beckoning him to the sofa. "I don't want to shout at you across the room."
He returned and sat beside her, but excess energy still thrummed through him.
"Alarick," she said in a softer voice, taking his hand and stroking the back of it with her fingers. "I'm not leaving you. That's final. I belong with you. I've thought it through over these past weeks. You are not the only one who has made contingency plans. I've thought of nothing else since Frances was born. Frances will go with Margaret and John, and I will stay with you."
Alarick shook his head. "You can't," he said, desperately clutching her hand. "I can't watch you die."
"I don't want to watch you die either, Alarick, but it's almost preferable to living my life out in the world not knowing what became of you. I've thought about it from all angles and I cannot see another way. Even if we choose the selfish option to run, to abandon the Keep and this library to their fates, you and I have no chance at a long life beyond these walls."
"Alone, one of us might—" he began.
"No," she interrupted his argument, placing her free hand on his chest. "We are both too well known, too wanted. There is no place where we could hide for long. Once the Ministry realizes we are not here, they will stop at nothing to capture us. They won't let us humiliate them again. At best we would have to live in secret, not knowing whom to trust. Never going out in the daylight, moving from place to place nearly every night, and always wondering when they'll find us. At worst, we'll all be captured within weeks and tortured for our defiance.
"Taking Frances with us would only put her in the same danger, and I will not do that. Very few people even know we have a child and that is her advantage. The Ministry will not be looking for her specifically, but if she is seen with one of us, she will become a target.
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