He hesitated. His relationship with Rose had weighed heavily on him for months, and this trek had created a divide he was wary of crossing. Maybe sharing his concerns with a receptive companion would shed light on his woes. Nikkola had been pleasant on this trip, even funny at times, but he didn’t know her at all. Normally he would go to Angst. That wasn't possible, and he could use a friendly ear.
“I was still married when Rose and I first started flirting,” he said.
“Nothing wrong with a little flirting,” she said with a mischievous smile.
“My ex-wife wouldn’t agree,” he said, clearing his throat. “But this wasn’t Angst-flirting, which is a lot of bark. She flirted with intent, and I loved the attention.”
“I’m sure,” Nikkola said. “Rose is pretty.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “When I lost my eyes to dragonfire—”
“Oh no,” she said. “You poor thing.”
“Thanks. It was awful,” he said. “I had a lot of time to think in the dark. My marriage had been broken for a long time. The realization that my wife would leave me because of my scars and blindness was enough to make me end it.”
“I get it. I had to end mine too,” she said, taking a deep breath. “My ex-husband didn’t like that I weighed more after giving birth to Kala. He also didn’t like that my face bruised easily. He hit me on the wrong day, and I bruised his face with my power. It was a shame, but he never woke up.”
“Really?” Dallow asked, stopping to turn around.
“Yes,” she said.
“Good,” Dallow said, hesitant to say more.
A brief moment of awkward silence was immediately pushed aside when she asked, “Why did you stop talking?”
“My concerns seem insignificant in comparison.”
“No,” she said with a frown. “Even if someone else has problems worse than you, that doesn’t make yours go away. I was the one who asked.”
“You’re right,” he said. They continued following the path. “With my divorce final, we became a thing. It was great at first.”
“Until you learned more about her after the sex,” Nikkola said with a nod.
“Yeah,” he said with a sigh. “She’s crass to the point of being vulgar, and bonding to those daggers didn’t help her attitude. I don’t like how Rose treats Victoria, but how she’s turned on Angst is worse. He’s been a good friend to her, and she wants to destroy him. If he really is going crazy, that just means he needs our help. I guess…I just don’t know. What do I do?”
“You’ve already answered that, Dallow,” she said. “I’m sorry. It’s not what, but when.”
He nodded and kept quiet until the catch in his throat went away.
“What about you?” he asked. “I’ve been curious why you volunteered.”
“Because my daughter is alive,” she said with no quaver or hint of sorrow in her voice. “I believe Angst will save her, and I’m going to help him.”
“You mean…this whole time,” Dallow said in surprise.
“Team Angst. Woohoo,” she said, twirling a finger in the air. “I won’t let anyone kill him, and neither will you.”
“Yeah,” he said, nodding in agreement.
“Hey,” Nikkola said. “We’re here.”
“Thanks,” Dallow said, turning to look at her. “That helped.”
“That’s what friends are for,” she said, tapping his nose with a finger. “You’re welcome to call on me when you’ve got things sorted out.”
“Oh,” he said, his cheeks warming. “I, uh…”
“You’re cute when you’re speechless,” she said. “Let’s go in.”
Dallow spun about to follow the remaining orbs down a broad flight of stairs that led under the building. The vast structure was only neck high above the ground, making it seem more appropriate for Jintorichs than tall Dallows. To his wonder, the stairs they followed into the library were steep enough that he didn’t have to duck on entry. Stealing his hand back from Nikkola, he cast the same light spell that had revealed the dragon.
“Ooh,” Nikkola said.
“Yeah,” Dallow agreed, stumbling over a tiny vine.
The entrance was a grand, white marble affair held up by cracked pillars. Vines had stopped just steps beyond the doorway, as if fearing the knowledge inside. The room smelled of decaying wood and moist parchment. Rows of wooden desks had long ago collapsed to rot. On each side, walkways of bookshelves had dominoed under the weight of time.
“Oh no,” Nikkola said. “Dallow, I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he said, unable to hold back a smile. “Libraries have a sort of magic that never leaves. We just need to find it.”
She cocked her head to one side and frowned.
“C’mon,” he said, leading her further in.
The magic of this library smelled dank and moldy. Humidity-trapping vines of the city had done nothing to help preserve the tomes held in this subterranean basement. The first book they found squished at the touch like thick, wet cake. The remaining books had become giant mold spores or mushrooms you wouldn’t feed to your worst enemy.
“So much lost,” Dallow said with a sigh. “Maybe I can convince Angst to go back in time a little further and save all of this.”
Nikkola patted his shoulder then squeezed gently. “Hey, what’s that over there?”
At the back of the room stood a long table surrounded by a steel railing.
“That’s what we’re looking for,” Dallow said, excitedly.
Walking over a thick carpet of growth and dodging puddles of black something were enough to make Dallow squeeze Nikkola’s hand too tight. It felt like they were in the lung of a sick giant, and she met his firm grip.
The waist-high black marble table was twenty feet wide and four deep. The top faced them at a thirty-degree angle, too steep to hold books or parchments. Smooth, steel rails surrounded it, coming together at a steel plaque with two hand-shaped indentions.
“Most of the mage cities have had similar devices,” he said, nodding at the plaque. “It should activate whatever this thing does.”
“Handy,” she said with a wry smile.
“Cute.” He tried to not roll his eyes at the pun.
“What does it do?” she asked, leaning close.
“I believe it removes your fingers,” Dallow said.
“What?” she said, jerking back and gripping his arm.
He laughed, and she struck him in the shoulder. “It is weird, though,” he said. “The ones that I’ve seen always require a flat palm. This one has holes for each finger.
“So, you just finger it?” she asked, waggling her eyebrows.
His eyes went wide, and it was her turn to laugh.
“I think you’re right,” he said, reaching out with two clawed hands.
“Wait,” she said. Reaching to some hidden compartment along her thigh, she drew a thin dagger and proceeded to poke the holes. “This is my bad-date dagger.”
“I think you need to date better guys,” he said, warily.
“I’m trying,” she said, returning her dagger to its sheath. “Nothing squishy. You’re good to finger.”
He flashed her a quick grin before facing the plaque. With a deep breath, Dallow cautiously placed his fingers in the holes. Moments past and nothing happened.
“Maybe you need to wiggle them,” she said.
“Some women are too impatient,” he said.
Holding his breath, Dallow drew in magic as if preparing to cast a spell. After a loud wrenching sound, the plaque vibrated until the grips beneath his hands slowly formed into domes. He could move them around within the confines of the plaque and even lift them slightly, but something kept them tethered to the table.
“Oooh,” Nikkola said.
A gentle ivory glow appeared across the angled top of the long table like fuzzy moonlight. Wonder and excitement swelled in Dallow as the light came into focus. Discovery was his favorite part of any adventure. Thin black lines stretche
d horizontally across the table like ledger lines on sheet music. The center-most line turned sky blue growing wide enough to reveal Dallow’s name in dark letters.
“It knows your name,” she said, walking the length of the railing.
“Clever,” he said, studying the lines for clues. “I would’ve preferred instructions.”
Shifting the dome-shaped handles around the plaque interrupted the lines, creating jerky vertical breaks on the far left of the table. Those jagged lines slowly flowed across the table until they disappeared on the right side as if falling off a waterfall. When he stopped moving, the jagged disruptions flattened again.
“It’s hard to tell, but I believe the lines are moving from left to right,” he said. “Except for my name.”
“If it knows your name,” she said. “I wonder what else it knows about you?”
That was the right question. Even as he thought about Nikkola’s words, images from his life replaced ledger lines on the left side of the table. The horizontal lines remained to his right.
“Is this you?” she asked, leaning over the railing.
Nikkola poked a finger at an image of ten-year-old Dallow reading a book. The ripples that spread across the table steadied within seconds.
“There has to be a reason the image is roughly a quarter of the distance from the far left edge. My history’s on that side of the table, and nothing is on the right,” he said, speaking his thoughts out loud. That’s when he realized what this table could do. “Oh, my.”
Dallow tried willing the image closer. Nothing happened until he began shifting the handles. After several minutes of distorting visions of his history by moving them about, he understood how to operate it. Lifting the domes an inch above the plaque and setting them back down on the left side created a white, vertical line over his ten-year-old self. Dallow gently drew the handles over until the image was directly before him.
“Did your, uh, portrait get bigger, or am I seeing things?” she asked.
“I think you’re right,” Dallow said. “Moving these handles across the table is like rubbing ice cubes together. It’s tough to keep them steady.”
His hands were already together, so he pulled them apart to the opposite corners of the plaque. The image grew and ten-year-old Dallow flipped a page, his eyes running along the lines of text.
“You were cute,” Nikkola said.
“I still am,” he said with a grin. “If I’m not mistaken, this is when I discovered my magic.”
The younger image of himself slammed the cover shut in frustration and let out a deep sigh. His eyes flashed bright white and frustration was washed away by wonder. A curious smile crept up his cheek as he finished absorbing the first book and quickly reached for another.
“That was a late night,” he said, pulling his hands back together and stilling the vision. “Now, the scary part.”
“Scary?” she asked, moving closer to him.
“I misunderstood the obelisk description of this place,” Dallow said. “This library doesn’t only contain history, but future as well.”
Dallow moved the handles across the plaque until the horizontal lines were directly before them. Spreading his hands apart revealed an image of Nikkola kissing him on the cheek.
“I don’t remember that,” she said. “Are you teasing me?”
“No, this hasn’t happened yet,” Dallow said. He pulled back from that future and focused on another line, revealing an image of Rose and Dallow kissing on a mountaintop overlooking a vast field. “That hasn’t happened either.”
“Good,” she muttered. “What does all of this mean?”
“This table sort of works like Victoria’s abilities to see futures,” Dallow explained. “Our lives don’t have just one path. We have free will to decide which path to take. Combine that with random events, and we end up with multiple futures. This device presents them in a way that could help us choose which one to take.”
“It sounds like cheating,” she said. “I’m made up of my success and failures. I wouldn’t be the same person if I knew what to do all the time. It also sounds boring.”
“Agreed,” Dallow said. “Though, I think these are more like ‘what ifs’ and not ‘what will bes.’”
“How can it help us?” she asked. “Instead of focusing in on one portrait, is there a way to see everyone’s?”
He lifted the handles and placed them on opposite corners before drawing them together. The label changed each time he repeated this, from Dallow to Gyldorane, and then to Meldusia, and finally to Ehrde.
After thirty minutes of glimpsing various futures, Dallow finally removed his hands. The light along the tabletop faded as the plaque handles flattened.
“What a mess,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “If we help Angst win, his timeline ends. I can only assume that means he dies. If Magic wins, his future vision of Ehrde is madness—we’d never survive. I just wish I had more time to sort through these futures. I don’t understand how Victoria does it.”
“What if Angst doesn’t pick up the horn at all?” Nikkola asked. “Magic will never get to Prendere, and the two thousand-year cycle of element wars would end.”
“That could work,” Dallow said, turning to the device. “Let me check.”
“There’s no time,” Nikkola said, tugging at his sleeve. “We’ll have to leave this one up to chance or luck.”
“Right,” he said with a final, longing gaze at the table.
Nikkola kissed him on the cheek. He placed a hand on it and smiled.
“That’s the future I liked,” she said with a wink. “Now let’s get out of this stinky library.”
41
Angst wiggled a pinky and winced with pain. Everything hurt like he’d been chased twenty-six miles before jumping off a cliff into a stampede of wild boar. Age caressed his wounds like an angry teacher with her favorite smacking ruler. Dying felt like a much better idea than standing, sitting, or lying still.
But Victoria was here, and her warm voice encouraged him to stand. He would gladly be the hero that Unsel deserved, after a month of Rose’s healing, several weeks of drinking at The Fette with the twins, and another month of healing. With every movement he took to stand, Angst’s bones popped and hissed like a blacksmith beating iron to a pulp in the rain. Except, bones weren’t supposed to hiss.
“I’m not alone,” he called out.
“Dropping some light,” Jaden said.
A golden orb lowered slowly, revealing far more of this husked-out sinkhole. He stood dead center in a spider web of bone-laden pathways that reached into darkness. Shadows darted from one cave to the next as if crossing roads in a nightmare city.
Instinctively, he reached for the orb only to have it grasped from his hand by something that chilled his heart.
“What was that?” Jaden asked.
“Just the monster,” Angst called out. “Got that vine yet? I’m ready to leave.”
“Don’t be in such a hurry, young Al’eyrn,” said a voice so low he felt it in his chest.
“Calling me young doesn’t make me like you,” Angst said, turning around to follow it.
The darkness surrounding him seemed to move and breathe as though fear itself had taken form. Angst grasped for power and spewed lightning from his extended arms again and again until his breath had to be caught.
“Feed us more of your light,” the voice said. “There are many Al’eyrn here for you to meet. Just relax and let it happen.”
“Sounds nice, but I’ve got plans tonight,” he said between gasps. “Who are you?”
“Who are you?” “Who are you?” “Who are you?” echoed through the distant shadowy caves, every time coming faster and rising in pitch.
“Scary,” Angst said, unsure if it was pee or sweat dribbling down his leg.
“I am the spell that freed shadows from their bodies. Call me The Cursed,” it said. “Welcome to my home.”
“Most housewarming parties include pie or cake. I don’t feel w
elcome,” Angst said. He looked up and shouted, “Vine!”
“Your welcome is over,” The Cursed said.
Dark fingers clawed around the circle of light beneath his feet and squeezed. The light surrounding him shrank an inch for every heartbeat and another inch for every drop of panicked sweat.
“Just give it to me,” Alloria shouted. “Stop arguing.”
“Get out of here,” Angst cried out. “I don’t know if I can stop it. Tori, I’m sorry.”
Their sudden silence was calming. Hopefully, it meant that they’d left and he could throw everything at the monster. It felt like the time he’d attacked the oldest creature on Ehrde, beating it again and again with his swords. He may have bruised it, it was hard to tell. Angst had learned much since then, and when his friends were clear, this Cursed would understand the full power of a mad Al’eyrn with two foci.
“Angst?” Alloria called down from above.
“You were supposed to run,” he cried. “I’m trying to do hero stuff.”
“My turn,” she said.
Somewhere between a heartbeat and a breath, Alloria fell beside him with a dead-on hero landing that made jealousy pool in his heart. A blurry dream of pure light emanating from her made The Cursed reel back and let loose a maddening scream.
“Grab the vine, champion,” she said, nodding at the one around her waist. “We’ve got this.”
Holding onto the vine over her head, Alloria kissed him once before pulling away demurely. Twenty-year-old Angst would’ve fallen in love with this princess who was saving him from this nightmare. Forty-something Angst waited for his heart to stop trying to escape and finally said, “Thank you.”
At the edge of the hole, Angst and Alloria grasped at skulls and hipbones to pull themselves free. Sprawled on his back and gasping for air, Angst looked up to see the beautiful face of his best friend.
“Hi,” he said.
Victoria fell on him in a hug that made most turn away. Jaden watched, and to Angst’s surprise, his gaze wasn’t filled with jealousy. He winked at the young man, and after the princess pulled free, accepted his arm to stand. Before Angst could say anything, Jaden pulled him into a hug.
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