Is Irene alright?
I should have known her first thought would be for her children. The knowledge sent a feeling of warmth through me. She’s fine, I told her. A little scared, but she has your strength. She’s taking care of things while I take care of you.
What about the others? she asked.
They haven’t returned yet, but I believe they’ll be alright, I answered. I would have lied, but doing so while directly linked wasn’t easy, so I stuck to the truth. You should be more worried about yourself.
Am I dying? Despite her courage, I could feel the faint undercurrent of fear at the thought. It wasn’t a fear of oblivion, though, but rather the fear of being separated from her loved ones.
Yes, I answered. But we can fix this. Do you trust me?
No. I frowned mentally, but then she added, I trust you will do whatever it takes for my sake. I don’t trust that you won’t hurt yourself trying.
Well, this will be risky. This is what I talked to you about before, a way to completely heal your body. Knowing how you felt I had decided not to do it, which is why I worked so hard to make that artificial arm for you, but now this is the only way.
Then don’t do it, let me go, she told me emphatically.
I can’t do that.
Yes, you can. I love you, Mort, but our children depend on you. This is a selfish risk.
Sorry, I replied. I’m selfish, I’ll admit it. I can’t live without you, and our children need you as much or more than they do me.
Mordecai!
I flinched inwardly at the strength of her disapproval, but I went on. Listen, this isn’t as bad as it sounds. You’ll be the one making the decisions. So I need to explain as much as I can before I hand the reins over.
What does that mean?
Our consciousnesses will merge, and then we will become you. My awareness will vanish temporarily, since only you can restore your body this way. You’ll be the one in control, but you’ll have my power.
I don’t know how to use it! This isn’t going to work, Mort. It’s foolish, she replied with rising panic in her thoughts.
Stay calm, I replied. It’s not a matter of knowledge. This isn’t like wizardry. It’s more instinctive. I’ll explain the main points, so you’ll understand what you see and what to do.
And if I refuse?
You can’t, I told her stubbornly. Once I hand over control you can do whatever you want, but if you don’t take care of things, one or both of us will die.
This isn’t fair.
It never is, I replied. Once we merge, you’ll feel as though you’re falling asleep, but when you wake up you will be alone, in a bed with two bodies, yours and mine. They’re both alive, for now, and you’ll see something like a flame within each of them. That’s called the ‘aystrylin.’ It’s the seat of life. In a sense, it’s your soul, and it has to keep burning, or else you’ll die. The power you’ll be using will come from mine, but you need to keep your awareness inside your own body.
Imagine yourself as you were, I continued, as you were before you were hurt. You’ll be able to re-imagine your body, and if you’re good enough, you can remember the arm you lost too. Once that’s finished, you will have to think of me. Release the power and think of me. This will be the hardest part, because it will require you to think of yourself becoming me while at the same time releasing your link to my body. If you do it right, we’ll both wake up.
She was afraid, and I couldn’t blame her. And if I do it wrong?
Then one of us won’t wake up, probably me. You’ll be alone with a dead body in the bed next to you. On the plus side, you’d also be a pretty badass wizard and archmage.
I don’t want to do this! she protested.
I love you, I sent, and then I opened my mind, listening to the universe. The wind thrummed in the sky above, the earth thumped like a giant drum deep below, and beside me, a beautiful woman slowly died. I listened to her flesh, and I dreamed of her heart, the greatest gift I had ever received in this world. Softly—I faded away.
Chapter 38
Penny woke. Or perhaps she dreamed; she wasn’t really sure. The world was strange and new, and much of what she saw was hard to understand. It felt as though she was floating, suspended in a cloud. Her vision extended in every direction, filling her mind with the contents of the entire room.
What held her attention, however, were the two bodies that lay below her, Mordecai’s and her own. As he had said, both contained a burning spark, but the similarities ended there.
The bodies, of course, were very different. His was heavier, more muscular, and in near perfect health, while hers was on the verge of death. What disturbed her was the flames within each of them. While Mort’s burned like a blaze, with searing intensity, hers was a tiny ember, about to go out.
I don’t have much time, she thought. Pushing her fear aside, she got to work. With a thought, she flowed into her body, and then she set about building the mental image she desired.
When Mordecai had described it, she had thought it would be impossible, but her mental imagery was different now. She couldn’t explain it in words, but her mind was able to create visions that were so finely detailed that it surprised her. Is this what it’s like for him? she wondered. She knew from past discussions that her husband’s mind worked a little differently from most. But she hadn’t expected it to be like this.
Everything is so sharp, so clear. For a moment she was envious. What would it be like to live with such vivid imagery inside your head every day? Wait, does this mean I’m me, or am I him?
She felt like herself, but the difference in her mindscape was an obvious reminder. This is so strange. I know I’m myself, and yet I must have been him before. She pushed those thoughts aside. Remember my body, the body I had—then make it real.
The flesh blurred, flowing into its old shape. Penny marveled at how simple it had been. So much power, and he lives with this every day. I’d probably go mad. Then she withdrew, gazing down on their two bodies from a short distance above them.
As expected, her body seemed perfect, but the flame within was unchanged. It was dying. She had thought that might be because of the injuries, but obviously that wasn’t the case. Was this why he didn’t want to do this? Was he afraid I would see how little is left?
Somewhere, deep down, she felt the truth. Repairing her body had been nothing. It was her aystrylin that was the problem, and he hadn’t known of a way to fix that. I’m about to die anyway. Once more she looked at his aystrylin, to compare them.
There was something wrong with his as well. It burned fiercely, but as she looked closer she found cracks, dark veins of something other between the filaments of living aythar. For all the power it represented, the seat of her husband’s soul was sick. Parts of it are foreign, grafted on by those strange dark roots.
She was afraid of what it might represent. Was it a side-effect of his time as a shiggreth, or a result of his strange transformation during the fight with the Ungol? Penny had no way of knowing, but either way it didn’t bode well for him. She spent some time studying it before eventually an idea came to her. He’s not going to like this, but then again, he didn’t give me a choice either.
Diving down, she filled her body again, sitting up and marveling at her perfect health. Stretching her left arm out, she examined her hand, fascinated by its perfection. She wished she could have longer to enjoy it. Penny got to her feet and picked up the blanket, wrapping it around her naked form. Then she went to the door.
With a thought, she removed the spell locking it, simultaneously dissolving the privacy ward that covered the room. Then she picked up the bar and opened it, stepping out into the barracks.
There were beds full of wounded men everywhere, but Penny had eyes for one person only, Irene. Her daughter had been bending over one of the men, but she straightened up to look at her mother immediately, her eyes growing wide.
“Mom!” exclaimed Irene, but then her expression changed to one of con
fusion. “Mom?”
“Come here,” said Penny, and as soon as the girl was close enough she pulled her into a tight embrace. “I love you, Rennie. Always remember that.”
“He really did it,” mumbled Irene. “But how? And what’s wrong with your aythar? It doesn’t feel right. I thought you were Dad for a minute. Is this an illusion?”
Penny shook her head. “No, it’s not an illusion. It’s me, and yes, he did it. But there are problems. Your father is resting at the moment. Can you send for some writing materials?”
“Why?” asked Irene suspiciously.
And then Penny began to explain, holding nothing back. She needed Irene’s full cooperation, otherwise things would be too difficult, and she didn’t have that much time. Her youngest began crying after the first two sentences, and they were both a wretched mess of tears by the time she was done. Captain Draper appeared at some point, but neither of them paid any attention to him or the other onlookers.
Penny clung to her daughter as long as she could, but when the servant returned with what she had requested, she began to untangle herself.
“Mom, no! Please…,” begged Irene, any pretense at dignity gone.
Penny’s face twisted in pain, but she pushed her daughter away. “I’m sorry, sweetling. Forgive me.” Returning to Captain Draper’s room, she shut the door and replaced the bar and the privacy ward. Then she sat down and began to write.
It wasn’t easy, and she had to use the sand to clean up not only the occasional inkblot, but spots made by her tears as well. She spent a half an hour on it before giving up. Not because she couldn’t think of anything else to say, but because there was too much. She could never write it all, and she was growing tired. My time is running out.
Penny returned to the bed and lay down, covering herself as well as Mordecai’s body with the blanket. She pressed her lips to his before withdrawing from her body. It was the most she could do. Then she focused on the tiny spark left within her chest and began to pull.
A searing pain unlike anything she could remember burned through her, but she refused to give up. In the end she thought she had succeeded, but she wasn’t certain. Perhaps Mordecai would be able to tell. Penny turned her thoughts to her husband and her only regret was that she couldn’t do more.
***
I woke to find Penny’s cold lips against mine. Had we succeeded? With one hand I reached over to brush her hair from her face, and then I knew. She was cold, not just her lips, but everywhere. Her heart was no longer beating.
“No!” I screamed until I ran out of air, and then I gathered her lifeless body into my arms, cradling her against me. “Why? Why did you do this? If it had to be one of us, it should have been me.”
I wanted to break something. No, I wanted to break everything. Rage filled me, and for a moment I fought to contain myself. In the end I did nothing but cry, sobbing like a child with a broken doll.
My life was over. Nothing had any meaning anymore. Paralyzed, I spent an hour refusing to leave the bed, holding the empty shell of the person that had been everything to me. Exhausted by my emotions, I wanted to sleep, but even that was denied to me.
Disgusted by my own helplessness, I left the bed, but after only a single step I felt myself drawn back. How can I leave her? I wanted to die, and if I’d had the courage I might have found a way to join her.
But Irene needed me. So did my other children. A lot of other people did too, but at that particular moment I didn’t give a damn about anyone beyond my own family.
This can’t be happening.
But it was. It had happened, and I was left to pick up the pieces. How would I explain this? How could they forgive me? Can I even forgive myself? From the corner of my eye, I spotted a sheet of parchment on the side table. I ignored it, staring back down at Penny, but it lingered in the back of my mind. It hadn’t been there when I first entered the room.
Turning around, I went to the table and snatched it up, impatient to see what it was. My privacy ward was still around the room; the door was still locked and barred. No one else could have come in, so whatever it was, it must have been her. My eyes blurred as I began to read:
Mordecai,
I am truly sorry. I hope you will forgive me, but I have done what I thought was for the best. I tried to do what you wanted, but I discovered the truth of my condition, something you probably knew but tried to ignore. Healthy body or not, I wasn’t long for this world.
I can only imagine that this secret must have tormented you. I wish you had told me, that we could have talked, but when I imagine our roles reversed I’m not sure if I would have been able to tell you. So, I’m letting you off the hook for that one. That means you owe me one, so you can’t stay mad at me for this.
I wish I could see you. Are you angry? Maybe. One way or another, I’m sure you’re hurting. If it were possible, I’d hold you and try my best to ease your pain. Since I can’t, you’re going to have find a way to go on. You probably don’t think you can, but I know you better than you know yourself. If it can be done, you can do it. Our children are depending on you.
But please, don’t just think of them. As wonderful a man as you are, I know how selfish you can be, especially when you’re hurting. Don’t forget about the people who depend on us. Do your best for them. Promise me you’ll remain the man I fell in love with, the man who always worked hard to protect those who depend on him.
With a strangled cry, I dropped the paper, choking on the lump in my throat. “How can I do that without you?” Several minutes passed before I was able to pick the page up and begin reading again:
These have been the best years of my life. We created a wonderful family and my only regret is not being able to remain with you, and them, for a lot longer. Please apologize to Irene for me. She saw me before I left and I’m sure she’s distraught. I told her what I was doing, but she may take her anger out on you. Give her time.
Matthew, Moira, and Conall, I don’t know how they’ll react. Tell them I love them. In the years ahead, you’ll have to tell them that and more. Tell them all the things I would have. You know my heart as well as I do. I trust they’ll do well. They have to. Besides, they have the best father in the world to guide them.
Don’t be too hard on yourself. It’s one of your worst habits. Don’t beat yourself up. We have plenty of enemies still. Don’t do their job for them. I’ll make you regret it if you don’t find some way to be happy.
There’s a lot more to say, but there’s no way to write it all. Don’t feel bad for me. In a way, I’m the luckiest woman in the world. Most people die alone, but I’m not dying, not really. Call me selfish, but I couldn’t let go of you, not completely. I like to think I’ll live on, inside your heart.
One more time, from your stubborn wife: I love you.
Farewell,
Penelope
P.S. Don’t forget to make sure someone lets Humphrey out for his walks. He’s just starting to get better about his ‘mistakes.’ I don’t want him to get back into bad habits.
That was just like her. The last word was a reminder to make sure I took care of the dog. I stared at the page. “Did you really think I’d forget about him?!” I was smiling through my tears, but the smile only lasted a brief time. The sadness went on.
I folded up the parchment, and after putting my clothes back on I tucked it into my pouch. Then I turned to the door. I had to go out and face the world.
Chapter 39
The look on Irene’s face when I emerged broke my heart, not because of anything dramatic. It was the quiet resignation displayed there that tore at me, a brief flash of hope quickly replaced by hopeless acceptance when she saw me step out. She didn’t ask any questions or offer condolences. Instead she pointed at the far wall. “The worst are on that side. I’ve done the best I could, but I don’t know what more to do for them.”
I nodded and headed over to check those patients. I thought Irene would follow me, but she started for the door leading out
of the barracks. “Wait,” I told her.
“I’ve been in here for hours,” she replied without meeting my eyes. “I need to check on the men working outside.”
“Observe me for the first few,” I insisted. “As rough as it is, this is the best opportunity for you to learn, for the future.”
She stared back silently for a few seconds and then gave a faint nod.
The men along the wall were in bad shape, but I found some solace by throwing myself into my work. I could feel my daughter’s attention, and occasionally her aythar, as she followed along, watching me carefully as I tended to the injured.
She had already sealed their cuts and fused their broken bones, but these men needed more. Some of them had fragments of bone that needed to be removed. “The body will absorb them with time,” I commented as I went, “but if there are too many it can cause strange bouts of hysteria after a day or two.” For others, I drained blood and fluids that had accumulated within the body. “The reasoning is similar here. If the body has to break down all this blood, it will delay healing and can damage the kidneys.”
In a few cases she had connected veins to arteries instead of with their own kind, causing problems with circulation. It was also apparent that she didn’t have much of a grasp of anatomy, for she hadn’t attempted to reconnect muscles and ligaments. I pointed those out and kept working. Irene took it all in without a word, and after an hour I let her leave.
When I finally left the barracks many hours later, I found a large field tent had been set up in the main courtyard. Bedrolls were laid out, and some of the men were resting, while others were laboring over cooking fires. Irene had been working steadily, excavating portions of the collapsed keep, primarily the storerooms where most of the food was kept.
We were cut off from Washbrook, since we couldn’t open the shield gate that connected the town to the castle, and with most of the keep being unusable, the tent was necessary to give people shelter to sleep.
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