by Pippa Jay
The door was sealed shut. He sheathed his blade and tried to use his power but either his encounter with the guards or the worsening of his injury had weakened him too much. Despairing, he rested his head wearily against the cool metal of the door and closed his eyes. Had he come so near just to fail?
Quin screamed again and rage flamed in his chest. He pushed deep inside himself, clawing for the flickers of energy he needed. Dull blue embers filled his core, weak and fleeting. He fed them his anger, his anguish and fear. He poured his love for Quin into them, the ecstasy they shared at the height of passion, the light she had seen in his soul when he had seen only the dark.
Fire blazed in his heart and the Sentiac’s power rose within him once more. The door opened at his touch and he entered warily, clutching his bad side. Inside, the room was a vast, empty chamber, with curving walls disappearing into the half-light. Quin lay in a huddle in the center of the floor, whimpering. Over her stood a tall, blond man who observed her suffering with a blank face. The Emissary looked up and Keir froze.
“Who are you?” the Emissary asked, his voice eerily expressionless.
“I have come for Quin.”
Black eyes stared, burning into him. Keir stood hypnotized as the darkness seemed to drain all resistance. His remaining strength bled away, his will faltering under the man’s silent assault. No matter how hard he fought, he could not tear himself free of it. The gun fell from his hand, clattering when it hit the floor, and Keir’s knees buckled.
Limbs slackened, vision blurring, he fell to the ground on all fours and fought to draw a breath, to claw his way back. He sensed, rather than saw, the Emissary’s approach, the seeping chill of his presence like a deathly mist spreading over his body. With excruciating effort, he raised his head. The black eyes smothered his senses.
Then Quin moaned and snapped him free of the spell. Power flowed, Keir raised his hand, and the Emissary flew across the room to slam into the far wall. As Keir struggled back to his feet, quivering with the effort, the man rose with an eerie grace and crossed the room at supernatural speed. He dived at Keir and they tumbled across the floor, each fighting for a hold. Keir smacked him hard in the face once, twice, before the Emissary snarled and punched him so hard in the chest it drove all the air from his lungs. As he gasped in a breath, the Emissary drove his feet into Keir’s stomach and shoved him backward.
Agony flared through his wound. Wheezing, sprawled on his back, Keir reached deep inside himself, desperate for something more, something that would stop his opponent. Azure flame answered his summons, surged upward, prickled over his skin, but the Emissary was on him before he could use it. Instead, the last few tendrils of his ability flared over them both. The Emissary threw back his head and howled, his body jerking as lightning flickered about them. Then he laughed as the white energy died and dimmed, as Keir’s hands fell away and he lay gasping, powerless.
The Emissary’s cold fingers locked around his throat. Keir choked, steel bands closing around his neck as the man squeezed. Unable to break his hold, he twisted in desperation, and gouged his nails into the hands that held him. The Emissary merely tightened his grip. His face loomed close and everything else faded into the depths of those terrible eyes until they were the only thing left in Keir’s vision.
He was going to die. After all he had been through, all he had suffered. A life full of loneliness and torture, of fear and rejection, a victim of his father’s hatred. And because he was weak, because he had failed, Quin would die too.
Quin!
Her face filled his mind. He remembered how she had saved his life when he believed only death awaited him. Remembered her compassion for someone hated and outcast by his people–even though she had known nothing about him. How even when he loathed himself, when he saw himself as unworthy, scarred beyond healing, she had seen the light and beauty in him. She was dying. A lifetime of rage burned through him, consumed him. The fire that had died in his soul flared into furious life. It boiled through his blood, surged over his skin, so brilliant, so powerful that he opened his mouth to scream. The Emissary stared down at him, a flicker of uncertainty in his face. Keir reached up, placed his palms on his opponent’s chest. White light exploded. The Emissary rocketed back across the chamber, his body tossed like a leaf caught in a hurricane. Keir kept his hands outstretched, threw more energy into it until the sound of impact–flesh against metal and the crunch of bone–came.
For a moment Keir stood rigid, waiting for the Emissary to spring back to life. White flame still twined around his hands. But the man lay still, his body crumpled in a heap. Keir curled his fingers into fists and smothered the light.
Quin!
He darted to her, gathering her limp form into his arms and cradling her head. She opened her eyes and he gasped in shock at the blackness within them.
“Quin?”
“Keir,” she said brokenly, her breathing labored, body contorted in agony.
He stroked her forehead, shuddering at the alien presence in her mind. A seething, black entity, full of venom and hate and hunger, lashed at him from within. He gagged at the touch of it. Agony pounded in his head as he attempted to merge his thoughts with hers. The thing that possessed her mind would not permit his admission. He could not reach her, only feel her pain–blinding, overwhelming.
“What can I do?” he asked.
She fought to speak. “Kill me,” she begged.
Her words carved into his mind, into his heart. Keir rocked back. “No.”
“Please!” she screamed, her back arching until she was almost bent double.
He gripped her tightly, to prevent her injuring herself in her fit. “I cannot.”
“Please, Keir.” Her voice trailed to a whimper and he had to lean down to her to hear, hoping he had misunderstood. Praying he had. “You promised…”
He shook his head and tears ran down his face. “There must be another way,” he pleaded. “Quin, do not make me do this.”
Again, convulsions shook her and she keened, a low sound of agony. “There’s no other way.” She gasped for air once, twice. “Don’t let it take me. It’s worse than death…” She clutched his hand, fought for another breath. “It won’t be me any more… Trust me… It’ll be all right…”
How could it possibly be all right?
For an instant, she broke free of the being that held her, brushed his thoughts with light and love. “Do this. Before I lose my mind and it’s set free. Its only purpose in life is to destroy. I don’t have time–” She juddered, and her thoughts wavered. “Please. If you truly love me, trust me!”
With a despairing groan, he held her closer. Her pain and anguish bled through him and he answered it with his own. He wanted to deny it, wanted to refuse her request even though she had begged, even though he would lose her either way. All he could do for her now was to make it quick. He had no choice.
“I love you,” he whispered, even as his heart shattered.
He laid her back and reached for the blade she had left for him. Holding it above her chest, he flinched as she grabbed his hands with both of her own, positioning the point over her heart.
“My love…” she breathed.
“My heart and soul,” he whispered, and choked on the words.
Together, they drove the blade down into her chest.
Quin threw back her head and screamed. The darkness poured from her mouth and seethed above her, twisting and writhing. The edge of it brushed Keir’s face and stung like needles of ice. Distorted whispers filled his ears, the words incomprehensible but the anger and frustration unmistakable. The black mass hissed and thrashed in its impotence and failure. It streamed across the chamber, a ribbon of rage, swooping down to the Emissary’s body. For an instant it hung over him, as though his failure repelled it. Then the maelstrom of blackness enveloped him and vanished, taking him with it.
Keir looked down at Quin and lifted his bloodstained hands from the hilt of the knife. Sliding one arm under her s
houlders, he held her again and watched his tears fall onto her face as she stared up at him. Her eyes had cleared, once more gray with a hint of sapphire.
She tried to speak, but there was no breath left in her body, no strength at all. And yet she managed a smile. “Thank you, my love…”
He could not speak. Instead he wrapped his thoughts around hers, a halo of light and warmth as she slipped away from him.
“So beautiful.”
“Quin…”
“It’ll be all right…” Her light, a last blaze of glory, filled his mind. “Take me home.”
Keir watched her struggle. He knew she had fought with all she had, knew how hard she had tried to resist, but in the end it had made no difference. The light faded from her eyes and from his thoughts. Tears ran down her face as her life trickled away with them. Her heart stopped beating, and the last soft touch of her mind slipped away.
The link snapped. Keir screamed. Blades carved through his skull, severing their bond, ripping out every touch of her mind, every fragment of light and warmth. Tearing through every memory he held of her–the sound of her voice, the feel of her skin, the brightness of her smile. Each precious spark extinguished, destroyed, until only the agony of her loss remained. Until only grief and fury filled the empty space. He had lost her.
A subdued moan of pain welled up from the sorrow burning inside him and he buried his face against her body and sobbed like a child.
* * * *
The ship’s vibrations changed. Muffled booms echoed through the shadowed space. Keir still knelt in the center of the twilight chamber, Quin’s body growing cold in his arms, her head light against his chest as if she slept. He listened to the distant blasts without fear. It sounded to him like knocking, as if Death hammered at the door, demanding entry. Keir would admit him willingly. He imagined the ship blown apart, imagined his atoms scattered to the stars. Pictured an end to his pain. Oblivion.
Longing stole his breath. He was on his feet–with no memory of rising–and halfway to the door before he remembered the last part of his promise. Take me home, Quin had said. Made him promise. He had failed her twice. This was the last thing he could do for, and he would not fail her again.
Cradling her in his arms, stumbling as the ship began to rock under the barrage, he limped from the chamber, back through the dim corridors to the place where he had arrived. The walls shuddered again. T’rill’s forces would soon demolish the ship. As Keir opened the gateway, fire bloomed in the corridor. A burst of light showered him with sparks and burning debris. He stepped through the door.
* * * *
Once more outside the palace, he stepped out of one gateway and activated the second to take them home. In the sky above, the Emissary’s ship burned like a comet in the planet’s atmosphere. A purifying flame to purge the darkness that had touched this world and stolen Quin, though too late to give him any comfort. He watched as the remains began their fiery descent, lambent white stars plummeting to the sea with tails flaming behind them. It seemed a poor tribute to his loss, a hollow and meaningless victory. He felt as if his heart had shattered and burned, to plunge into the sea with the broken remnants of the ship. He tightened his grip around Quin and stepped into the gateway.
* * * *
More sirens greeted his return to Lyagnius. He laid Quin in the center of the white room, smoothing stray braids away from her face before crossing her arms over her stomach. No doubt her companions would be here soon to tend to her but he could not leave her so thoughtlessly.
He placed one last, lingering kiss on her forehead. “You are home, my love. As I promised.”
And yet he still could not go. Even though Quin’s spirit had passed into whatever realm might lie beyond death, he could not abandon her body so easily. It was all he had left. He reached out to touch her hair again.
“Keir!” Taler’s cry drew his gaze as she rushed toward them, halting at the doorway with an expression of shock on her white face. Without a word, he rose and stepped back through the open doorway. He was finished here.
* * * *
A stray breeze brushed over his face in a ghostly caress. He opened his eyes. Moonlight fell like white blades through bamboo leaves that whispered a mournful welcome. The shadowed groves of Kasha-Asor surrounded him and before him stood the wooden hut that had been their home for nine days.
Pain carved through his chest, yanked out the torn remnants of his soul. Why had the gateway brought him here? Why here, instead of the infinity of stars and darkness he had willed himself to? Was this Hell? A final punishment for what he had done?
The rush of the sea called to him. He turned from the hut and followed the path through the bamboo groves, his steps resolute. Dried leaves crunched underfoot. As he came to the beach the ocean spread before him like faded black velvet beneath a full white moon.
He walked straight into the water. Cool fingers wrapped around his ankles, then surged against his legs as he waded deeper. It touched his fingertips and reached for his hands. It cleansed him of Quin’s blood, but could not wipe the memory of her falling tears, or how the life had faded from her eyes.
But soon. Soon the water would wash even that away.
The sea rose to cover his chest. It stung the wound in his side–the final reminder of his failure to save her. Even the pain of that was nothing compared to her loss and it would soon be numbed.
“Keir!”
Her voice whispered across his mind, white fire that scorched its way into his soul. His step faltered.
But no. Quin was dead. Beyond all redemption. If he heard her voice it could only mean she was calling him to his fate, to eternal sleep in the depths of the ocean.
The sands fell away and he sank, the water closing over his head.
“Keir! Wait…”
Peace wrapped loving arms around him. For a moment, the deep calm of midnight blue water cradled him and a few bubbles of air trailed from his mouth. He watched them trickle back to the surface, saw the moonlight break into silver shards above his head. Then he turned his eyes to the depths and swam downward.
His lungs began to burn. Blood pounded an increasingly urgent rhythm in his ears as his body starved of air. He pushed himself farther, deeper. There would be a few moments of pain, of panic–he knew that–but it would not last long.
Tight bands of pain coiled around his chest and leaden weights filled his limbs. The end was coming. The pressure to breathe clawed at his throat and beat at his temples. He opened his mouth and took his first draught of water. His body convulsed as if he had breathed in fire. His arms flailed, grasping for a surface now beyond his reach. Agony fiercer than flame raked through him, needles ripping through flesh, veins bursting, heart shattering.
And then the calm returned. The pain burned itself out. He was drifting into the darkness, his body twisting in the current until his eyes gazed up into the shimmer above, pinpoints of brightness against the night.
Into that final serenity, as his vision faded and the sound of the sea closed over his last thoughts, Quin’s face floated toward him. Her eyes were dark hollows in her white face and her red hair a wild halo in the water as she swam down to him. Again, her hand reached for his, summoning him back as she had once before, only this time they would be joined in death as they had been so briefly in life. He could not move but he felt her hand grasp his lax fingers and pull.
“Keir!”
Sudden cold touched his face. The pressure on his chest crushed him–an agony so fierce he wanted to scream but could not. The surf roared in his ears, distorted and hollow. He convulsed and water filled his mouth, choking him.
He was on his stomach, his arms bunched beneath him, retching as his body purged itself. Someone pounded his back. His stomach heaved and more seawater followed, scorching his throat. He vomited until he felt raw inside, snatching in ragged gasps of air between each seizure. As the fit gradually passed, he cried. He was still alive. He had been cheated.
Wet sand cradled h
is face. “No,” he told his rescuer without lifting his head. “No!”
“Keir.” Warm hands grasped his shoulders. The voice, so familiar and yet so impossible, stilled his sobs.
“No,” he rasped. “You are dead. I killed you.”
The hands pulled him over until he lay on the wet sand. Her hair hung in dark tendrils around her face as she looked down at him. Tears spilled from her eyes.
This could not be real. Her image here, now, was nothing but a torment created by his guilt and grief. The pain of it was acid flowing through his veins. A blade in his heart. Even burning at the stake in Adalucien would seem a mercy now.
“Forgive me,” she begged.
He put up a shaking hand to touch her face but held off, afraid. Afraid that if he did touch her, just once, the illusion would shatter. That she truly would be lost to him for all time.
Instead Quin took his hand and pressed it to her cheek. This was real. She was real.
“How?” he whispered. “What magic is this?”
“I don’t know.” She clasped her hands around his, warm fingers threading through his. “I’ve died more times than I want to remember and I’ve always come back. But this time I had to stay dead to fool the Siah-dhu or it would never have let me go.”
Bitterness, spiked and hot, rose and clutched his throat. “Why did you not you tell me? You let me believe I had killed you!”
And yet what would I have sacrificed to have her back?
He had been prepared to die for her. To die rather than live without her.
“I couldn’t tell you in case it went wrong, in case I didn’t come back.” The sorrow in her words broke his heart anew. “I didn’t want to give you false hope.”
“But I felt you die...” The memory raked through him. The pain and despair as their link had shattered, and the light fading from her mind. His world had ended in that instant, become meaningless.
He lowered his hand to the point in her chest where they had buried the blade together. Through the torn fabric of her wet sarong, he felt the raised edge of a scar, and drew in a breath that shuddered. How many times had she gone through that? Gone into that darkness, unsure of what lay beyond? Why had she never told him? “All those scars–they were death wounds? Every one?”