“Gross,” Jintorich said, his tall ears twitching. “Did you say it was Al’eyrn?”
“Magic said a couple of humans, or a human and an animal, must’ve gotten caught up in the Vex’kvette,” Tarness said with a grimace. “That they must’ve absorbed a foci when the orange goo combined them.”
“That must’ve been a nightmare for those poor creatures,” Jintorch said.
“Yeah,” Tarness said. The thought made his stomach churn. “What are the chances?”
“Normally I would say it was impossible,” Jintorich said. “Foci seem to be very particular. This would have to be very well planned.”
“Which makes me wonder why Niihlu is whole and not an ice statue,” Tarness said.
“His necklace.” Jintorich gasped in surprise. “It must be another foci.”
“He did look uncomfortable wearing it,” Tarness said. “And I noticed sparks jumping back and forth from the necklace to the axe.”
“Now you know why Magic wanted Lurp's remains,” Jintorich said. “He was looking for the foci to repair Niihlu.”
“I hate elements,” Tarness said. “But wait, I thought Al’eyrn couldn’t wield more than one foci. Isn’t that why Angst is supposed to be going crazy?”
“Yes,” Jintorich said, tapping his chin with a finger.
“I don’t even understand how Niihlu became Al’eyrn,” Tarness said. “Angst can pick up other foci, but when we first met Niihlu, he couldn’t even budge Angst’s sword.”
“Magic must’ve made Niihlu an Al’eyrn,” Jintorich said, his voice squeaking with the excitement of discovery.
“He tried making Rose an Al’eyrn,” Tarness said. “We found him in a cave near the underwater mage city. That’s when Angst merged with his second foci.”
“I hadn’t heard this story,” Jintorich said.
“Jormbrinder is a foci made of two daggers. Rose had one of the daggers. Angst had bonded with Dulgirgraut but was still able to pick up the other dagger. He said it dampened his magic, whatever that means,” Tarness said. “We found Rose in a cave lying on a stone table. Chryslaenor hovered over her, and Magic was doing something that made it shock her with black lightning.” He winced at the memory. “She was screaming in pain. Angst thought the only way he could save her was to bond with Chryslaenor. The battle was a mess, but he made it to Rose and the sword…and then he exploded.”
“What?” Jintorich said, pulling his watery dragonfly swifen to a stop. “How is that possible? He’d be dead.”
“You’re asking me?” Tarness asked. “The blast blew the cave wide open. No one should’ve lived through that. It was enough to kill Air. According to Dallow, between the dagger dampening the other foci, the two swords, and Rose’s healing, they both survived.”
Jintorich closed his eyes and held onto his staff with both hands. A blue glow emanated from Maehtikyn for several minutes until Jintorich sighed deeply.
“You don’t look very good,” Tarness said.
“That’s how I feel,” Jintorich said, rubbing his bulbous temple. “Once again, an unlikely event that could only be planned. It explains how Angst now wields two foci, and that Magic can possibly force the bond of a foci with a host.”
“Sort of,” Tarness said.
“What do you mean?” Jintorich asked.
“He said my ring was a sort of foci,” Tarness said, nodding at the ruby ring on his finger. “If that’s so, he’s bad at making them because it doesn’t work for me like the swords work for Angst. Maybe he’s bad at making Al’eyrn too. That has to be why Rose was in so much pain, and why Niihlu used to look like a slushy snowman. It’s like Magic can only do it halfway.”
“Which is why he needed a second foci for Niihlu,” Jintorich said excitedly. “The two foci make him full Al’eyrn.”
“I guess.” Tarness shook his head. “Makes me wonder who else he’s tried to bond with a foci.”
“If he has tried again,” Jintorich said, “it would only create more nightmares.”
They stared at each other as a chill overtook Tarness, and it wasn’t from the pleasant Nordruaut weather.
“So is that it?” Jintorich asked. “We’ve learned a lot from what you’ve shared. Is there anything more you want to tell me?”
In his mind, Tarness screamed the truth. That he’d killed Jarle. That Angst was innocent. His mind cried and pleaded, but the words wouldn’t come out. Instead, his face became stiff, and the finger that wore the ruby ring burned.
“I can’t share anything more,” Tarness finally said.
“Yes, but there is more, isn’t there?” Jintorich said, his dark-marble eyes intense. “Won’t you tell me?”
He tried again. His head throbbed painfully, and his eyes felt like they would explode from his skull at any moment.
“I believe you, Tarness,” Jintorich said with a nod. “I’m sure you’ve told me everything you’re able to.”
Tarness gasped for air as if he’d been drowning in a lake and finally broke through the ice. Slowly, ever so slowly, the pain subsided. When his eyes could focus, when his mind could reason, he made out Jintorich looking back and forth between his face and the ruby ring. He nodded.
“This guilt you carry, the lies you’ve told,” Jintorich finally said. “They are not you, my friend. I realize you have little choice, but I worry they could be your end.”
“Yes,” Tarness said, a tear trickling down his cheek. It wasn’t just the physical pain, he could deal with that. He hated what the ring was doing to him, what it was making him do, what it was making him become. He wasn’t a liar. His wife deserved better, and his friends deserved better. The avalanche of his guilt was covering more of him by the minute, and he worried it would swallow him whole.
They rode forward slowly, following the broad path left behind by the Nordruaut. The blinding white snow was becoming darker. Winds had carried Rohjek ash miles past the Ruautu river, eating away at the Nordruaut border like hungry fungi.
“There is one thing left we can do,” Jintorich said, nodding once again at the ring. “Something that may set your mind free.”
“Really?” Tarness asked, wiping his nose.
“Have faith, my friend,” Jintorich said. “I have an idea.”
19
Angst woke with the dawn, despite the long night and lack of sleep. Grabbing his swords, he rushed through the camp toward the smoldering bonfire. The great fire had burned down to charcoal remains that emanated a gentle heat in the early morning coolness. The kids were all asleep in their tents, and this space was ample enough for what he needed.
He set both swords on their tips and stepped back. Angst took a deep breath, reaching high into the air before bending over to touch his knees. His feet were really far away. He grunted as he stood, listening to his back pop noisily. Shaking out his gimp knee with a crack and rolling his neck with a noisy crunch made him wonder if he was growing older or turning into a set of drums. Hector had always told him to stretch first, so he stretched.
Even though he was still bonded to Chryslaenor and Dulgirgraut, their connection was like a paper boat in an ocean storm. Bonding to both swords simultaneously, in an effort to save Rose, was too much for all three of them. They were disgruntled at moving in together and tended to be poor roommates in his mind. While the swords appeared physically identical, they were more like brothers with a grudge. The foci were, more or less, alive in a way beyond his understanding, and they eventually made peace. Once resolved, that symbiotic relationship had made him feel whole.
When Angst had decided to go back in time and save his family, they’d set aside their differences to stop talking to him. They still gave him power to spare, but their companionship was gone. Angst didn’t just need their power, he needed their guidance. He only knew of one way to make that happen. Sealtian.
When Angst was much younger, Hector had tried to teach him sealtian—the dance of swords. At the time, Angst had thought it merely calisthenics with blades, and was qu
ickly bored after learning a handful of movements. Thirty minutes of bending and weaving slowly with swords hadn’t been his idea of adventure.
After losing Chryslaenor the first time, Angst had become ill. Bonding with a reluctant Dulgirgraut kept him alive, but the sword refused to speak with him. In an attempt to connect with Faeoris, they’d agreed to do sealtian together. For him, sealtian didn’t come naturally, or from years of practice. He’d started by following her movements, and the sword guided him through the rest. When it was done, Dulgirgraut sang in his mind.
He couldn’t stretch out his years and gave up grinding his bones with a deep sigh. Angst reached for the two giant swords hovering upright before the glowing embers. Chryslaenor and Dulgirgraut buzzed noisily in his mind, anticipating the upcoming exercise. They were like children waiting to open gifts.
Angst let go of these thoughts and focused, lifting the swords vertically over his head with both hands. The red and blue lights surrounding the foci now covered his forearms. His mind was emptied, and with a deep breath, he concentrated and lowered the swords until they were horizontal to the ground. His movements became a dance, bending like a reed, crouching like a tiger, stretching like a swan ready to take flight. The sweat was cleansing and the cool morning breeze that rolled over his bare arms exhilarating.
Heather’s beauty filled his mind. He thought about her smiles—the beautiful full-lipped smile on her face, and the one in her eyes. Her curly brown hair teased a few grays and she had some smile lines, and he drank it all in. She was often frustrated with him, or angry with his choices, especially since taking the swords, but the love in her eyes never went away.
He’d lost track of time and didn’t care. The sealtian fulfilled their need in a way that left him whole. This wasn’t the success from a battle barely won, or getting away with something he shouldn’t have; this felt more permanent. Angst didn’t know when the music from his foci had started accompanying his sealtian, when it had begun to flow to the rhythm of his movements, or when it stopped being just music. The swords’ glow grew in him, and out from him. The music became information and power. He squeezed the tears from his eyes, and let it happen.
Angst envisioned the memory of when he first held Thom and Eila in the Unsel infirmary. Thankfully, they both looked like their mother. Thom had been quiet, looking around and taking in the world. Eila grasped his cheek roughly as if to ensure he was paying attention. They both held tight to his heart.
When he finished, the swords quieted and remained still in his mind. That connection was apparently only for the sealtian. All he’d accomplished was to build up a thick sheen of sweat and a loss of breath. It left him feeling silly. Part of him wanted to apologize to the swords, the other part wanted to argue about his plan and convince them it would work.
The visions of his family had made him dizzy. Had that just been a daydream, or some message from the swords? More than anything, he wanted to believe they were still alive and whole. They weren’t.
A quick glance around the vast campsite showed no movement, and he allowed himself a moment to weep. He had failed them. Not only his wife and kids, but everyone who had died under his watch. No matter how many times he had gone over everything that had happened, he wouldn’t have made any different choice. It felt like the whole universe had conspired against him, and he was sick of it. The moment eventually passed because he had hope. He knew what he had to do.
Angst threw the swords on his bare back and cursed in frustration, tromping noisily to the tent. With a deep sigh, he peeked in.
“Yum,” Alloria said, eying him.
Angst grimaced a smile and wanted to reply, “Yuck.” Not only to her response but to his extra thirty pounds of yum. Maybe forty, but who was counting? She leered at him in a way that he tried not to with the twins, and Alloria, and Victoria…it was a long list of not-leering.
“I meant what I said last night,” he warned. “We aren’t going to have sex. My family may be gone, but not in here.” He tapped his sternum. “I’m going to save them. Being with you that way would be wrong.”
She looked at him, her eyebrows furrowed seriously, and said, “Can I go pee now?”
“Oh, right,” he said, feeling embarrassed.
She’d been like a starving octopus last night, and he hadn’t known what to do. After rolling over, he finally decided to use magic and anchored her bones to the ground. There’d been a lot of cursing and a few tears, but she’d eventually fallen asleep inside the tent. He’d tried sleeping outside on the bare ground, not daring to go back in. It wasn’t his best night’s sleep.
He released the hold, and Alloria scrambled from the tent. She almost bounced out of her red, silky lace shirt-thing that didn’t have enough cloth to blow his nose on. He sucked in his breath. She stood there for a moment so he could see before rushing off.
He took advantage of her absence to don his armor, finishing just in time. She sort of skipped toward him, and he tried not to gawk at the show.
“It’s cold,” she said.
“I noticed,” he muttered.
Alloria winked before crawling into the tent, and he turned around until she finished dressing. Though, at this point, what difference did it make? He’d seen almost everything, that red thing covered nothing in the best way. Alloria crawled out of the tent in her barely-there gray leather. Her outfit said party, but her face was suddenly a torrent of worry and pain.
“Now that you’re wearing clothes,” Angst said, begging his eyes not to leer since they weren’t really clothes, “we need to find Ivan and go.”
“But…I really need a brush, and some makeup,” she said, tugging at a long, honey-brown curl. “I know a town—”
“Alloria,” he said. “It’s time. You said you’d bring me to Magic after we got you clothes. I agreed to put up with Ivan, but no more delays.”
She pulled so hard at the curl, he thought she’d tear it out. When she winced, he took her hand and held it.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“He scares me,” she whispered, looking at the ground.
“I promise,” Angst said, “he won’t hurt you.”
He stepped forward and drew her into a hug. She buried herself in his shoulder and cried. The moment he patted her hair, she looked up with pursed lips. Alloria looked more vulnerable than a newborn puppy. Instinctively, he licked his lips before realization struck and he pulled away.
“No,” he said, releasing her. “No.”
She peered at him, her eyes momentarily calculating as a smile crept up one cheek. Was it all a game? He may never know.
“What’s for breakfast?” she asked. “I’m starved.”
Angst shook his head in disbelief. She was like a weathercock in a hurricane. “There’s some bread in the satchel. We can probably rummage up something more if the vendors left anything behind.”
“Eww, bread makes you fat,” she said with a pout.
“You don’t eat bread?” he asked.
“Of course I do,” she said.
“Then that’s obviously a myth.” He winked.
“Wait,” she said, peering again. “Was that a compliment?”
“That was flirting,” Ivan said. “The type you would expect from an old man.”
His whiny tone crawled across Angst’s flesh.
“I think it’s nice,” she said in his defense.
“What are you wearing?” Ivan asked, looking Alloria up and down. “You look like you’re for sale.”
“Shut it,” Angst said, darkly.
“What?” Ivan said with a wry smile. “I suppose you picked it out for her.”
“He helped,” Alloria said, her tone full of innocence. “And then bought it for me.”
Angst sighed deeply. How did this stuff keep happening to him? He wished Dallow and Tarness were here. They’d understand. Actually, no, they wouldn’t.
“I like your taste,” Ivan said, drinking her in with his eyes.
She crosse
d her arms and stepped behind Angst.
“Do you like your arms?” Angst asked. “I’m pretty sure you don’t need them to guide us.”
“Uh,” Ivan stammered.
“Let’s make a deal,” Angst said. “You lead the way, as quietly as possible, and I won’t spread your body parts all over Ehrde.”
20
Victoria woke the next morning to breakfast cooking, birds chirping, and bickering. The others must’ve set up her tent and tucked her in. Someone should get a medal. Despite feeling better, she hid from the conversation in her cocoon and pretended to sleep.
“Where have you been?” Jaden snapped.
“Scouting,” Dallow said. “Not that it’s any of your business.”
“Fine,” Jaden said. “What do we do now?”
“We should find Angst and warn him,” Nikkola said. “If there are more dark Berfemmian, he could be in danger.”
“I thought we wanted him dead,” Rose snapped. “Shouldn’t we just let the Berfemmian monsters kill him?”
“Harpies,” Jaden corrected. “I just never realized that the harpies from my future originated as Berfemmian.”
“Whatever,” Rose said. “It would save us the trouble. No, I’ll just say it, it will save us. Angst is the reason we’re here. He’s the reason I almost died.”
“We’re here because the elements went to war,” Victoria said, reluctantly crawling out of her tent. “No matter what he thinks, Angst has been caught up in this like we were.”
“I agree with Nikkola,” Dallow said. “If he’s in danger, we should warn him.”
“Knowing Angst, he probably kissed their leader and she flew away,” Rose said. “Isn’t that what he does?”
“What? No,” Victoria said defensively. “Not that I’d know.”
Everyone stared at her, and all of them looked like they were biting their tongues.
“You’re probably right,” Victoria said, her cheeks warm. “That he’s fine. Not the kissing thing.”
“Rose’s armor is pretty beat up,” Dallow said, graciously interrupting the painful silence. “If we aren’t going after Angst, maybe we could head back to Potterton, or find her something to wear at The Fette.”
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