“This was your choice. This is how you wanted it to be,” said Dylan, numbly. He reached down to his boot and pulled from it a copper cylinder. His thumb flicked over the side and he held it up. Like a miniature comet, a red flare, trailing crimson smoke, shot into the sky in a high arch and dropped back to ground.
It was a signal.
“You’re right, Dylan, and I’m willing to accept that. But it doesn’t dissolve your part in this,” I told him, fighting down the sickness in my stomach.
“You made this decision. I didn’t want it this way!” he argued, pacing.
“The choice is yours as much as it is mine,” I countered.
“Yes, and you’d choose to let me die! Why should you get anything different?” he shouted, his face, reddening.
“Because I’m doing this to protect hundreds and thousands of people. Who are you protecting?” I demanded, fervently. The guilty look in his eyes betrayed him. “You certainly didn’t protect whoever it was that you drained.”
He stopped pacing, staring, but not seeing me.
“It was a Dragoon. A woman. Her name was March.”
If my heart stopped beating and my lungs stopped breathing, I wouldn’t have noticed.
March.
She was the only Dragoon other than Rune that I had tried to befriend. I remembered putting the clay bird I made in her hand. She had told me she couldn’t keep it. She couldn’t keep friends. But she’d smiled at me.
And now she was a grey husk of a human being, staring through dull eyes at a world she no longer could feel.
I hardly knew her, but I’d looked at her as a friend.
My hands were alive with threads of electricity. I didn’t focus to make it happen… I don’t even think I’d realized that I’d called my Ability forward.
“You killed Leila!”
He didn’t argue, didn’t defend himself. He stood there like a statue, not realizing that he’d let me free.
“You killed my friend!” I wanted to hit him, but he stopped me a split second before I could. His eyes focused on me and he forced me to a jerking halt with The Lift. I gasped in a sob.
“I didn’t kill her. What I did was worse than death. Stakes killed her. Said her purpose had been served. I thought it was a mercy to her but Stakes was just being tidy. If I didn’t… if I didn’t do what I did, he would have killed us both,” he muttered, more to himself than me.
“There is a wealth of power within you: I want it,” Stake’s words came back to me. “And I want you to know, because it won’t change anything, and because I enjoy hurting people. You’ll see it all happen, step by step. You’ll know I’m getting closer. Your friends will bleed and you’ll know it was me. I’ll see all of that pain in your sweet, silver eyes when I come around to take you. Soon”
A chill as cold as death itself spiraled down my spine.
A dark storm was chasing away the final glimpses of sunlight. It was like all hope was retreating, leaving us in a bloody red pool of unnatural luminescence.
Two drops of rain pattered on my face.
“No matter what you think, I’ve always cared about you,” Dylan told me. His unshed tears mingled with the determination in his eyes. “I wish this didn’t have to happen, but it does.”
A soft rumble began to overpower the sound of the wind raking through the tall brush. As it grew louder, so did its distinction. It was the beating of heavy hooves.
Someone was approaching.
“I might be selfish… I might be a coward, but at least I’ll live to regret it.”
Chapter 33: My Ending
My newfound bravery abandoned me as soon as Stakes rode into view. Astride the back of his black warhorse, he looked larger than life ever should. Shadows fed into cracks and crevices in his armor. I recognized the marks as the Dragoons’ failed attempts to end his life. Either he had drained another victim or his transformation was finally complete. One side of his jaw was filled only by twisting points of metal. Two frail strips of skin stretched from his cheekbone to his chin, but didn't look like they'd last much longer. The other side of his face, raked with dull steel growths but still primarily flesh, didn't offer much humanity either. His eyes were ravenous. He was insanity and cruelty, not a man at all.
To me, he was death incarnate.
When those terrible eyes found me, he ground his teeth and smiled.
“Timely,” he said through a wolfish grin. “I was just returning from setting Breakwater aflame. Don’t fret, little Lord Axton, your brother's men fight fire better than they fight Dragoons, not that my diversion is going to buy them much time. I always thought you commoners were spoiled with too many freedoms.”
Dylan's face was a mask chiseled of stone. He confronted Stakes stiffly. “I've done what you've asked.”
“Yes, I see that you have,” Stakes said appraisingly, circling like a scavenger. “Our attempt to infiltrate the Lodestone nest seems to have washed ashore. I can't pretend to be disappointed; I'd hoped it would end this way. For you, I mean.”
Knives churned in my stomach. So there really was a plan to give up Haven's location. I'd done the right thing, but it didn't make me feel any better. I looked at Dylan with a culminating sense of dread.
“I did my part. I'd like to leave now,” Dylan said, shifting uncomfortably beneath the usurping Commander's scrutiny.
“Leave? Does this mean that you desire to abandon your post in my campaign?” Stakes asked in what was a horrible mockery of innocent concern.
“We agreed that after I did my part, I'd be free,” Dylan said, growing increasingly nervous.
“Free? Dear boy, haven't you realized that nothing in life is free?” Stakes grinned.
Dylan took a step back. “I can't watch you do this to her.”
“So! My little puppet, you have a heart after all! Or a weak stomach. We've both seen that evidenced before, haven't we?” Stakes chuckled with bemusement, swinging casually down from his saddle.
“What you've failed to understand,” the Commander continued, stalking closer, “is that freedom is to you as water is to a fish in the desert: a dream, vaporizing with every breath.”
Dylan swallowed hard. He looked up at me, regret burning clearly in his eyes. It was strange to see such torture on a face so angelic. Or so I thought for a split second as my mind, so taxed by misery and stress, pulled me a step away from the situation. My reverie didn't stand much of a chance. I was too realistic a person to let myself be swept back into the comforting arms of shock.
There was no reason for me to identify with Dylan, or admire his features for any reason. He was my enemy. I should hate him.
“I'm sorry, Katelyn,” Dylan said to me. “You didn't deserve this.”
Stakes let out a sharp bark of laughter. He was thoroughly enjoying the scene.
“Dylan, you idiot!” I snarled. How dare he apologize as soon as he had to witness the consequences of his decision? I was enraged. It was the greatest insult I could have imagined. If I could have punched or slapped him I would have. If I never saw his pretty face again it would be too soon.
Dylan's hold on me was suddenly gone. I could feel the full weight of gravity take over the cushion that had kept me immobile. I took one step to the side.
“Wait right there,” Stakes commanded me as if he was a child's patient uncle. My body locked up under the force of that horrible power. I couldn't move my legs or torso. Claustrophobia and frustration screamed in my head. I wouldn't let it get the better of me.
Stakes turned back to Dylan.
“Sorry, Axton? The young man who betrayed her, is sorry?” the Commander grinned. “Shouldn't you be thanking her? She's bought a few hours extension to your life. Really, where did you learn your manners?”
Dylan’s horrified gaze shifted from me to Stakes when understanding struck him.
“No!” I screamed, despite myself.
Stakes brandished a knife, contorting the steel with his ability. It snapped like breaking ice, b
ut instead of coming apart, it grew. Stakes threw his jagged weapon expertly, aiming directly for Dylan's throat.
Stumbling backwards, Dylan threw up a hand. Sound popped like a whip cracking, and the blade floated benignly, stopped short by Dylan's Ability. I hoped he could immobilize Stakes. The more I thought about it, the more it seemed possible. How much of a fight could Stakes put up if he was unbound by gravity? Maybe there would be a chance to escape. Unfortunately for both of us, Dylan wasted a second blinking hard and breathing heavily.
Stakes took advantage of the opportunity. That second was all he had needed.
The attacking Commander dropped to a crouch, placing his hands on the ground the way March had when she'd used the stones of the Keep to block my escape.
Rumbling started almost immediately. It didn't make sense. Stakes didn't have a stone Ability. Besides, only Lodestones possessed more than one Ability... right?
The dirt around Dylan was churning. Pebbles and rocks trembled and flipped.
Startled and off balance, Dylan looked at the ground boiling around his feet.
Stakes roared in effort. Strings of dull silver and copper sprang like fast growing vines from the soil. Some were thin as threads and others thick as rope. Two rocks, each attached at the end of two cords, tumbled and turned an inch above ground, shrinking as if they were being unraveled.
It all happened so fast.
The metal, pulled from ore and minerals in the earth itself, curved around Dylan's body, focusing their grip on his face. He collapsed upon the dirt and brittle grass, his arms, legs and body bound by Stakes’ terrible power, and he was left only enough space between coils to breathe. I could hear his muffled screams as he thrashed with futility against his bonds.
From the pack of his warhorse, Stakes retrieved a long rope. Quickly, he tied one end to his saddle, and carried the length of it to Dylan. With ease, the Commander adjusted Dylan's constraints so that his arms were above his head.
As he fastened the other end of the rope to Dylan's wrists, I heard him say, “Did you really think I'd let you keep it for yourself? Listen for her screams. When they stop, I'll be coming for you. Maybe I'll even let you put her out of her misery.”
Stakes stood and hit the back of his warhorse's rump. The shadow beast squealed and leapt to a run, dragging Dylan with it into the darkness.
“I hope you don't mind my impatience,” Stakes said to me, conversationally.
It was so personal. It was just my murderer and me in a loose copse of trees, with a storm rolling in and a flare burning out beside us. I wanted to retch. I wanted him to die. This monster of a man was the purest manifestation of evil that I could have ever imagined.
“I'm actually rather excited. Draining a Lodestone... the possibilities are limitless. I'll outweigh the Margrave for certain. I could become as strong as our Prince, or very nearly! I can settle for that... for the time being. Oh, tisk, why so angry little one?” he asked me, stepping ever closer.
“I hate you,” I said through my gritted teeth.
“Come now, I hate you too, but that’s no reason to be negative,” he chided me.
The closer he came to me, the greater height my panic reached. I couldn't move. It was maddening. I couldn't run or fight. His horrific face taunted me. I really was going to die. It was an impossible concept to come to terms with.
I thought of my lifeless body, lying here in the foreign hills, disappearing into the ground until only my skeleton remained, half buried by weeds and soil. I'd never see my father again. I'd never get to tell him how much I loved him, how sorry I was for never appreciating his trust. I'd never see my little brother Kevin grow up. Ruby and Kyle would think I'd just run away for good. None of them would even know I was dead, alone, murdered beside a tree that was as lifeless as I would be.
“I stopped you,” I said, grasping for the only thing that could renew my pride and remind me why I’d chosen this fate. “I stopped you from reaching the rest of us.”
“You are certainly not stopping me, with your cliché, dramatic sense of martyrdom. You may be delaying me. I'll admit that much. But there is a chance that you've actually helped me find them,” he said, standing directly in front of me. The nearness made me shudder but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't pull away.
“There's a rumor, a myth even, that to personally drain a Lodestone allows one to inherit said Lodestone's Abilities. What is a legend if not a fragmented historical fact unexplored by science? If there's any truth to it, I'll be the first to know,” Stakes gloated.
Despair slammed into me like a rockslide, battering what small light I had kindled in my shrinking heart. I really had ruined everything. I couldn't even die without sabotaging my entire world. So shaken by fear and sorrow, I couldn't focus enough to bring out The Spark. It was like my Ability evaporated. I wondered if he was somehow blocking it, similar to the way he'd brought it out of me before. It was hopeless.
“You're bluffing,” I said, refusing to cry. He wouldn't get the satisfaction.
He laughed at me. “And why would I be bluffing?”
“You,” I breathed raggedly. I may have been hyperventilating and not noticed. “You like to torture people.”
“You're right about that much, but I'm not bluffing, I assure you,” he said. “Look at me. Not over there, look at me. Do you have any family? Mommy perhaps? I've already killed mine. What do girls your age love? Boys? No, I nearly forgot, I've already taken care of him. Friends? Have any of those for me? A pretty little face I can crush? What does she look like? What would she think when she saw me? Would she even know how afraid she should be?”
“No,” I seethed, wishing that the hatred pouring from my eyes could have a physical effect. I could see Ruby in my mind, completely innocent prey for this twisted monster. I couldn't let it happen. I couldn't let him get them. “No.”
“Yes,” he corrected me. “They're all as good as mine you know. It’s a good cause. When I get to them I'll drain them and kill them. I'd probably be merciful to most. Do you know what would happen if I delivered them to the Prince? No, I suppose you wouldn't. You'd all be slaves and batteries, fuel for his war machine. You'd be drained, slowly. It would take at least a year to kill you, but it would also consume all of the liquid in your body. In tests with regular subjects, the eyes are the first to dry up. I always wondered why the eyes would go first. You should really be thanking me.”
“Never,” I told him, overwhelmed by the horror of his description.
“Oh well... Can't win them all,” he said casually and planted the thick, square copper device in the center of my chest. I cried out in pain as its teeth sunk easily into my flesh. He used a clawed hand to turn a dial on the side of the draining tool and it hummed in response. The device was active.
“This is when you beg,” he suggested.
My refusal was silent. I was afraid that if I opened my mouth I'd cry from the pain or break down and plead for my release.
It’s strange how in the most deadly of instances, time slows nearly to a halt. I could feel the draining device warming up, its humming ready to reach a culmination that would begin to steal my life away.
A drop of rain touched my arm. Black clouds roiled above us, and the plants and trees rippled, cowering in response. The dead tree stood solemnly by, its broken, leafless branches no longer bending to the whims of the living. I couldn't see Florian but I knew he was there, nearby somewhere, too well trained to abandon his master.
I remembered the sickening thump I'd heard when this very same machine drained Fallux. It was coming and each pulse would tear away my life force.
It’s true what they say; at least it was for me. You do see a bit of your life flashing before your eyes before you die. I saw myself as a little girl, playing with my mother and father, before they separated. So blissfully sheltered, I was truly happy. Then came the memories of my mom leaving, and all the mischief I caused in Rivermarch. I was always trying to get away somehow. Escape. I’d ne
ver realized I was acting like her, my mother. In a way, I was always leaving too. I hadn’t made the connection before because I justified my actions by knowing I'd always come back. That was what had made us different, in my mind. I was an idiot. I wondered how much hurt I really caused my father. He'd lost his wife and his daughter couldn't be far enough away from him. I'd spent my life playing these games. Now all that I wanted in the world was to be home.
Thump.
Everything stopped.
The reverberation slammed through me, dull, heavy and impossibly strong. It pushed outward pouring through my bones to my muscles, and when it reached my skin I thought it would break free, tearing trillions of tiny cuts to make an elaborate jigsaw of my flesh. Something whispered to me that my skin wasn't broken, that what was happening was completely internal, but I couldn't believe that. And then, just like the shore of the ocean I'd so recently been introduced to, the pulse began to suck back, drawn to the power of the machine lodged in my chest. Words fail to describe the flaying I felt, raking, searing and burning its way through me. So acute was the pain, I felt that the world would crumble with age before I was free of its torment.
By the time it did subside, I was gasping for air with raw lungs. I knew from memory and from my gut instinct that one more pulse would drain me of color and take away my sentience.
My heart was left fluttering, doing its best to keep me alive. It was a futile struggle. I wouldn't be myself after Stakes completely drained me. I’d just be a shell, feebly clinging to life for a short day. He'd probably kill me after he had what he wanted. Would he force Dylan to be my executioner?
It was too much, all of it. Stakes killed Rune. His command killed Leila March. If he had his way, he'd steal my life and use my own energy to find and slaughter the peaceful people of Haven. When would the ravages of his wickedness stop?
In those few moments after the machine's first assault upon me, my thoughts and fears cried out in such unison that their message took less than a minute to convey.
Haven (War of the Princes) Page 27