by J C Gilbert
We all watched in silence as Munrath pounded on the shield again and again. I didn't know how I made it, but I knew enough about magic to know that it wouldn't hold forever. All around us, the temple burned.
Darion gingerly pulled himself to his feet, wincing as he did so. He surveyed the scene thoughtfully. "Well," he said, unhooking his ax, "it seems that I'm a little at odds with my god." The massive warrior took a few lurching steps toward the edge of the shield. "Seems I better be doing something about that."
Mary snaped out of whatever trance it was that had held her. "No," she said, "let me do some good."
She got to her feet. Mary had come through the battle completely unharmed. She looked out of place, clean as she was among the wounded and the bloodied. She stepped after Darion with light steps.
"Mary!" I called.
She turned back to me and smiled. "Don't worry," she said. "I remember everything." With that she turned, wings sprouted from her back and she took flight.
Darion was running now, yelling a battle cry and holding his ax ready to strike. Mary easily overtook the old hero and penetrated the shield. She collided directly with Munrath, sending him back. Darion kept running. We soon lost sight of them all.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
I made eye contact with the chocolate egg from across my bedroom. The world was silent but for the distant hum of a lawn mower. The egg was sitting where I had placed it after Mom first handed it to me.
"A boy left this for you," she had said with a raised eyebrows and significant looks. The cringe factor was almost beyond believing.
When I had finally got her to leave I read the card that was with the egg.
To Alexandria, Love Carl
There was no escaping the ever-present awkwardness of life. I had checked the ingredients already and knew I couldn't eat it. And yet, it stared at me. I had faced danger and death, destruction and ruin, and still, Hank was freaking out about how to manage Easter gifts from eager teenagers.
I would have to deal with it later. Today I was going to Lilly's place, and we were going back to The Library. I decided to walk to her house, though it was quite some distance away. The world was getting warmer, and pretty soon it would be too hot to walk at all.
The air was crisp on my face. I adored the quiet suburban simpleness of Torbay. This was a new thing. Until recently, I had thought it a dull place. But since exploring worlds beyond this one, I was becoming thankful for its peaceful insignificance.
It had been several days since we finally said goodbye to Mary and Kanboor. The battle between that little girl and the God of War had raged for quite some time. I was too weak to do anything but wait and hope. At length, Mary returned carrying Martin's human body, and it was all over.
Well, it was all over for Kanboor. I suspected that it would never be over for Mary. She was no longer the girl that I met selling apples in the market. There was some great storm back there in the distant recesses of her mind. I promised her that I would come to see her sometimes, though she didn't much seem to care. There was not really much more I could do for her. If anything could heal her, it would be time.
The lightning scar in my wrist stopped bothering me after Mary returned and the world was saved. As I walked through Torbay, I pulled up my sleeve and examined it. I was luckier than Harry Potter, that's for sure. My scar was out of sight. I had a thought that there might be some connection between the scar and the final moments of the worlds. I hoped that I would never get to test that theory but strongly suspected that I would get the chance sooner or later.
When I entered Lilly's room, I was struck by how sparse it was. Where before there had been shelves and shelves of fandom memorabilia, there were now only a few items seemingly chosen at random. Everyone deals with loss in different ways, I guess, and I resolved not to ask her about it.
"Ready?" I asked.
"Its weird," said Lilly, "but I don't really want to go in there." She gestured towards the book in my hand.
"You don't have to," I said, "I am the Keeper. It's my burden."
Lilly laughed. "And you are my burden," she said in mock seriousness.
Once inside The Library, we found the Librarian lost in a book. She glanced up when we walked in and then returned to reading. She then seemed to fully register that we were there and put the book aside, greeting us with animated expressions.
"Welcome back, you two," she said. "It has been so quiet here without you."
"Peaceful, you mean?" asked Lilly.
"I have got a lot of reading done," she said, "though I don't want to think that I don't like having you around, because I do. But, well, I've had to do some investigating"
"Trist?" asked Lilly with a flash of anger.
"Well, er, yes," said the Librarian, treading carefully. "I haven't been able to find anything about him. He seems to have come from nowhere and then gone back to nowhere."
"He used the same portal that those men used on the first world that Darcy and I saw dying. There has got to be some link."
"Where is Darcy, anyway?" asked the Librarian, "I could use his opinion on a few things."
There was a crackle in the air and a whirl of wind. Some sort of vortex was pulling things in. "What in the worlds?" asked the Librarian.
There was a pop, and a door appeared. It was an ancient heavy oak door with an old fashioned brass doorknob. The wind died away. We all watched in apprehension as the door handle slowly turned and then opened.
A man stepped through. He was tall, dark-haired, and dressed in what looked to be nineteenth century period dress. "Is this the place?" he asked over his shoulder. He had a strong English accent.
"Who are you?" demanded the Librarian.
"This is the place," said a voice, its speaker concealed.
"Darcy?" asked Lilly.
And then Darcy stepped through after the first man, except it was not the Darcy that we had parted with a week or so earlier. He was somehow broader, more weatherworn, and was clearly older by a few years. Darcy stepped into The Library.
"Lilly," he said, locking eyes with her.
Another figure stepped through the door behind him. "Exactly how many guests are we expecting?" asked the Librarian, regarding the three newcomers.
The figure behind Darcy looked like a wizard out of an old story. His cloak was long and brown. He carried a tall wooden staff and looked out under bristly eyebrows. A bushy beard poured down his face, but still through all that I recognized him.
"Mr. O'Conner?" I asked.
Darcy remembered himself. "Thank you, Willoughby," he said to the first man.
"Go get him, chap," said the man, patting him on the back. He then bowed slightly, touching his head as if dipping his hat and went back through the door, closing it behind him. The door disappeared with a pop.
There was an awkward silence as we gazed at each other.
Mr O'Conner coughed.
"There is a lot to say," said Darcy, "but there is no time to say it. I know who Trist is, I know where he is from, and we are all in terrible danger."
I hope you have enjoyed your time with Alex, Hank, and the gang.
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