CHAPTER 35
Now
I’m hardly a great scholar, but even I’m able to memorize the instructions Marlena prepared for me, the optimal route through the maze and the solutions to all the puzzles I’ll encounter. So I make my way through with my team, solving one door after another, collecting gem after gem. It goes as smoothly as I could have hoped, with no surprises except for one moment where Zigmund wanders off a path and get his eyebrows singed by a flame trap. The hardest part is keeping up the facade for the rest of my team, acting like I’m actually solving the puzzles and not blatantly cheating. It works mostly, I think, especially the few times I act stumped long enough for Tish to come up with an idea; they don’t say anything, and if they have their suspicions, they keep them to themselves.
An hour after we enter the maze, we come upon a pair of heavyset double doors adorned with a dozen polished slabs, the frame covered with runic cyphers and mathematical formulas and Gods knows what else. We’re at the center of the maze, the hardest challenge, and the room inside holds a whopping five gems. It’s the last stop on my plan and sure to tip the Order of Nethro to victory. The actual puzzle is so complicated that I still don’t understand the solution, even after Marlena explained it a dozen times, so I just act deep in thought and mumble the instructions and trust that the others will go along.
“You carve a Fire Base Glyph here.” I guide Fyl in front of one slab, then hustle around positioning the others. “Tish, you go with wind. Zigmund, you’re life, Desmond, you’re earth, and I’ll do ice. Elemental Base, Ornamentation Form. And we all have to carve at the same time. Understand?”
“Not even a little bit,” Desmond says. “But if you say it’ll work, I trust you.”
“We’re really going to do this. We’re actually going to win the Second Challenge.” Fyl bounces up and down on her heels. “Gods above. We’re actually going to be the Order Triumphant. We’re going to the Senate. My parents are going to lose their minds.”
“Let’s just take it one step at a time,” I say, drawing my Loci. “Everyone ready? On three. One, two, three.”
We slip into the Null together, all five of us, standing shoulder to shoulder in the gray. It’s dark here, darker than usual, but our bodies exude a pulsing glow of warmth that cuts through the haze of ash, like five candles glowing through a heavy mist. I’ve never been in the Null with this many friends, and it feels different, safer somehow, less lonely. I could get used to it.
We all carve our Glyphs and pull back into the Real, where they glow bright and beautiful, each slab radiating with energy. A delicate melody resonates around us, the anthem of the Republic, and the doors slide open with a lumbering groan. Behind them is a wide rectangular room with a domed ceiling, every surface smooth stone. There’s a dais in the middle with five grooves, each with a gem set inside, and a radiant light within shines out through the gems, bathing every surface of the room in dancing multicolored light, like the chandelier at the gala.
Zigmund pumps a fist in triumph and Tish clasps a hand over their mouth. We step into the room together, our faces lit up red and yellow and white and gold. “It’s beautiful!” Fyl says, and I reach over to pluck one of the gems.
That’s when it all goes to hell.
I feel the hum of gathering magic from my left, that electric crackle that sets my hair on end, the chill of a cold breath on the back of my neck. Tish makes a noise, a stifled scream, and I slip into the Null instinctively, swiveling just in time to see the melon-sized ball of earth before it smashes into my chest.
The world flashes red and black. I feel myself lift off the ground and fly backward into a wall, feel my chest flare with pain, feel my Loci fly out of my hands, feel myself gasp and wheeze for air that barely comes. I slam down onto the ground, hard, and I can’t see what’s happening but I can hear Fyl scream and Zigmund roar, hear the shriek of wind and the hammer of stone. My mouth floods with blood, and my knees become water. The room around me thunders and flares.
Get up, you weakling. Get up. Get up.
I force my head up, trying to make sense of what happened. There’s five of them, five figures at the end of the room, pressed against the wall so we wouldn’t have seen them when we came in. My vision is wavering, my eyes watering, but I can still make out their bright gold cloaks.
Vanguard.
Shit.
My Loci are lying just a few feet away. I move on instinct, lunging toward them, but there’s another rush of magic and a crystal of ice bursts out of the ground, enveloping my grasping hands like a pair of gauntlets, trapping me in place. It’s cold, the kind of cold that burns, but I barely even care because my body is screaming fight. “Get them!” I yell to the others, and it’s only then that I realize the rest of my team is in even worse shape than me.
Zigmund lies facedown next to me, unconscious, outstretched hand twitching. Tish is slumped against the wall cradling their visibly dislocated arm, panting with pain. Desmond is on his back with a thick vine wrapped around his waist, and Fyl is upright against a wall, her hands frozen in ice crystals over her head. We’re all disarmed, bound, trapped.
The battle’s already over. It was over before it began.
“What is this?” Desmond chokes out, each word a struggle as the vine tightens around him. “What are you doing?”
“Winning,” a voice hisses back. Marius Madison. He stands at the front of the group, his blue eyes bright beneath his hood, face lit up with the smuggest grin I’ve ever seen. I squirm, jerking my hands, but the ice around them holds tight, stockades of cold crystal. That just makes Marius’s grin widen, and he strolls over to me, each step a flourish. I twist away from him, but I can’t go far, so he kneels down, plucking the bag of gems off my hip. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll be taking this.”
“Bastard,” I growl.
He just laughs. “Oh, admit it, Dewinter. This is poetic. Winning the challenge by ambushing the leading team and stealing all their gems? Wherever could I have gotten that idea?” He tosses the bag back to a lanky girl with flaxen blond hair. “What goes around comes around. About time you Nethros learned that.”
Fyl lets out a low moan, and Desmond’s head falls with despair. I thrash about, trying desperately to break the ice even though it makes my hands hurts worse, even though it’s futile. The world flares red. My chest is so tight it feels like it’s going to burst. I’m so angry it hurts, so furious I’m trembling. And it’s not just at Marius, though, Gods, what I would give to smash that smug smile in. I’m furious at myself. I walked right into this trap, got played at my own game. I got cocky, and look where it got me. All of Marlena’s work, all our planning and scheming and risk. Undone because I couldn’t check a room before strolling in.
“All right, Marius,” Desmond’s voice trembles. “You got the gems. You won. Can you let us go now?”
“I let you go when I godsdamn please!” Marius snarls, and it’s clear this is about much more than just winning. “Now you shut your mouth, boy, or I will shut it for you. Understood?”
All the color drains from Desmond’s face, and he swallows deeply, chest heaving. “U-u-understood.”
“Good. Because I’ve got unfinished business.” He kneels down, wraps his fingers through my hair, and jerks my head up, hard. “Don’t I, Dewinter?”
Pain flares through my scalp, and I hate this, hate how powerless I am, hate the yawning chasm between how badly I want to fight and how little I can. “Let go of me!”
“I don’t think I will.” Marius crouches. “You thought you were so clever, didn’t you? Making a fool of me? Killing my best friend? Well, where are you now, huh? Where are you now without your precious prince to protect you?” I can feel his hot breath on my face, feel his spittle on my skin as he talks. “I could kill you right now,” he says, and presses his Loci right up against my throat. It’s the second time he’s done that. It’ll be the last. “Cut your little throat open and let you bleed out. How would you like that, Dewinter? How
would you like that?”
“You can’t,” Tish cries. “It’s against the rules.”
“The rules!” Marius laughs, jabbing the tip of the knife in hard enough to draw blood. “I’ll tell everyone I did it in self-defense. Whose word do you think the judges will trust, hmm?” He turns back, jabbing his other Loci through the air. “What do you think, Desmond? Your father serves mine. Want to see if he’ll put his son before his livelihood?” Desmond doesn’t even reply. He just stares at the ground, utterly broken. “Exactly. I can do whatever I want down here.” He tugs again at my hair, even harder, so hard it hurts more than the Loci poking into my throat. “How’s it feel, Dewinter? How’s it feel to be totally beaten? How’s it feel to know your place?”
“If you’re going to kill me, then shut up and do it,” I growl at him, and his nostrils flare as he jerks his Loci back.
“No!” Fyl screams, and Marius freezes mid-strike. Tears streak down her cheeks, and her whole body trembles. “Please, Marius. Please. Don’t hurt her. Please. We’ll do anything you want, anything you say. Just please. Don’t hurt her. Please!”
Marius glares at Fyl from the corner of his eye, like he’s taking her in, and I see the moment something in him changes. He lets go of my hair and I fall back to the ground. Marius stands back up, dusting off his pants, and steps away from me. “All right,” he says. “Fair enough.” He takes a step away, and I don’t know what’s happening here, don’t know what’s changed, but I know I don’t trust it. “I’m not going to kill you, Dewinter,” he says. “I’m going to kill your friend.”
It happens in a heartbeat. His hand flicks up, his Loci carving in the Null, an imperceptible golden blur. The air crackles with magical energy.
And a lance of cold stone plunges straight through Fyl’s chest.
She twitches, stunned, as blood trickles from her lips. She stares at the spear skewering her with eyes wide and horrified and betrayed. She tries to talk, but all that comes bubbling out is a choked gasp. Desmond wails, writhing against his vines, and Tish is utterly silent, head cradled in their hands, unable to look. I let out a noise I forgot I was capable of, a scream so harsh it rips my throat. I thrash against the ice binding me so hard my hands start to bleed, staining the crystals from within. “You bastard!” I shriek. “You didn’t have to do that!”
Marius just laughs. “You all saw what happened, right?” he asks his crew. “The Potts girl attacked me. I shot her lance back to defend myself. Everyone saw that, right?” They all nod, though the girl with the flaxen hair looks a little reluctant. “In that case, I think we’re done here.” He glances back down at me. “And there you have it, Dewinter. A friend for a friend. We’re even now.” Then he kicks me, smashing his boot across my face and sending me down into the cold stone, and I don’t care because the hurt there is so much better than the hurt inside me, than the rage and the grief. “Let’s get out of here,” he says to his cronies, and just like that, they leave.
I force my head up, even though it all hurts so much. Desmond lies on the ground, moaning and sobbing. Tish weeps gently into their hands. And Fyl just hangs there, eyes still wide, mouth agape, that horrible lance in her chest. I look at her through my tears, and I want nothing more now than to be able to hold her, to cradle her in my arms, to let her know that in the moment, she’s not alone. “Not for me,” I whisper to her across that cold room. “Not for me.”
But Fyl doesn’t say anything.
She’s already gone.
CHAPTER 36
Now
I don’t leave my room for two days.
I can’t. It was hard enough just getting back there, staggering out of the maze with Fyl’s limp body in my arms, watching Aberdeen declare Vanguard the winner. It was hard enough sitting there while Marius spun his self-defense story, while the judges chastised me for not controlling my teammates. It was hard enough walking back through the quad in silence, every eye on me, every face clouded with judgment. It was hard enough to keep my head down and avoid Zigmund’s haunted glare, Tish’s grief, Desmond’s wails of heartbreak. It was hard enough just to make it to my door.
When I’m in, when it’s shut, I unleash. I drive my fist through my mirror and don’t even flinch when my knuckles bleed. I shatter my chair against a wall. I scream and rage, loudly enough that I know everyone can hear me, loudly enough I don’t care. And when it’s all out of me, I collapse into a heap in the ruins of my room and I bury my head in my hands and grieve.
I messed up. I messed up so badly. I got cocky and I got careless and now Fyl’s dead. Fyl, my first friend at Blackwater, the girl who was drawn to me because she thought I was her destiny, the girl who trusted me. She’s dead and it’s all my fault.
How am I supposed to go on from this? How am I supposed to face the others, face Calfex’s judgment, face Desmond and Tish? How am I supposed to look Marlena in the eye and tell her I blew any chance we had of getting her off this island?
I don’t know how to do it. So I don’t.
A few people come by to check on me. Tish knocks just once, asking if I’m all right, and leaves when I don’t respond. Talyn comes by and stays longer, long enough that I have to ask him to leave. Marlena’s the most diligent, coming every morning and evening to leave a tray of food just outside. I barely eat.
On the morning of the third day, she stays. “Alayne,” she says softly. “They’re sending Fyl’s body to the mainland. Your friends are down by the steps to see her off.” I don’t reply, and I can hear her sigh. “You might want to join them.”
“I can’t,” I mutter. “I just can’t.”
I wait for her to go, but she doesn’t, and I can see her feet shift uneasily through the crack under my doorframe. “Alayne,” she says again, more firmly, as firm as she can allow herself to be. “The other Nethros need to know you’re still with them. They need to know you can still lead them. They need to see you.”
“Still lead them? Lead them to what?”
“The Great Game’s not over,” she says. “You lost the Second Challenge, but you’re still tied with Vanguard overall. With a good showing, you can still win.”
“How can you think about the Great Game?” I demand. “Fyl’s dead, Marlena. Fyl’s dead, just like… just like…” The words get stuck in my throat. “Please. Just go.”
She lingers there another minute, choosing her words carefully. “If you’re not going to go as their leader… at least go as their friend.” Then she turns and leaves.
Damn it.
Damn her.
I throw on some clothes and make my way down. It’s a miserable gray day outside, cold and windy, the earth muddy and damp. A small crowd has gathered on the steps of the Order of Nethro, a bunch of students clustered together in a half circle. They’re all wearing black, more black than usual, somber cloaks and dark suits. Between them, on the cobblestone path, lies a coffin. Lies Fyl.
A few heads turn my way as I approach. Zigmund gives me a little nod, eyes downcast, the most somber I’ve ever seen him. Tish’s face is painted, a hash of dark lines like a veil, and they whisper “thank you” as I walk by. The other Nethros stare at me, their Order Captain, their leader, and I can see their distrust, their disappointment, their suspicion. I’m supposed to be out here to reassure them. But how can I do that when I think they’re right?
I place a hand on the coffin, breathing deeply. Fyl was a Wizard, but she was also a friend, a good person, a compassionate soul, and a victim in the end, as much as anyone else. I think in another life she would have listened to me and understood my cause. I think in another life we could have stayed friends. “I’m sorry,” I say. “You deserved better.”
“She did,” a voice says from up the path. I glance up and see Desmond leaning against a tree, glaring at me through his dark bangs. The other Nethros look demoralized, but he looks furious. “Not that you ever really cared about her.”
“Desmond.” I walk over to him and speak low, out of earshot of the others. �
�I didn’t want it to be like this. I never wanted her to get hurt.”
“No. You just wanted to win, and you didn’t care what it cost us.” He shakes his head, angry, defiant. “You put us in harm’s way, on Marius’s bad side. And for what? For what? A chance to win their stupid, godsdamned game?”
“Desmond, I—”
“Tell me one thing, Alayne. Look me in the eye and don’t you dare lie.” His brow furrows deep as he scowls. “Did you cheat?”
I swallow hard. I’m too tired, too broken, too heartsick to think on my feet. “I… I didn’t… I mean…”
It’s answer enough. “That’s what I thought,” he says. “You lied to us, Alayne. You filled us with false hope, and you lied to us to gain our loyalty, pulling us into something we never would’ve signed up for. And you got her killed. You got Fyl killed.” He shakes his head. “I thought you were different, Alayne. But you’re not. You’re just one of them.”
It might be the most devastating thing anyone’s ever said to me. “Desmond…” I say, and just getting the words out is impossible, like I’ve been punched in the gut.
“Spare me the pitch. I’ve already made up my mind. I’m leaving with her body, and I’m not coming back.”
I blink. “What?”
“You heard me. I’m getting on the ferry with her and getting off this rock. I’m done with this place. Done with Wizards and magic and all of it. Done with you.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Hell if I know. Maybe I’ll wander the docks until I find work on a ship. One that’ll take me to the Kindrali Isles or Sithar or out into the unknown.” His voice trembles a little. “So long as I’m far from you lot, that’s all that matters.”
There’s so much I want to say to him, so much I want to explain. Of everyone here, Desmond is the one who could most understand me, who could see the cruelty of the system, who could most understand my cause. And yet here he is, looking at me the way I look at them.
It Ends in Fire Page 26