When You Believe

by Jessica Barksdale Inclan

  “And you will be,” Quain said. “Soon enough.”

  Sariel cringed at the voice. At one time, he’d thought the soft, smooth sounds of Quain’s conversation reassuring, hearing it from his bedroom as he was trying to fall asleep. Downstairs, Quain and his father and mother would talk, the wisp of sound enough to lull Sariel to dream.

  How touching, Quain thought, his sneer a hiss in Sariel’s head. Childhood memories at a time like this.

  Sariel felt Miranda try to get Sayblee’s attention, but the three of them—Sayblee and the two men—were under a reve spell, awake but not conscious enough to hear or speak or think. Then he felt Miranda try to work her thoughts over to Rufus and Felix, but Quain stopped her.

  “I haven’t quite decided what to do with them all. They may come in handy later. I’ve lost so many these past weeks. I had to send my other help ahead, so they could prepare for—well you know what will happen. You’ll see a brief bit before I dispose of you. But you do have some talent here. And the pretty young thing with her fire arts, well, I’m quite smitten with her already,” Quain said, stepping over Rufus as he walked toward Sariel. Quain’s robes were singed, one hand red with burn. “And I seem to have lost my best recruit, your lovely former petite amie. But off with the old, on with the new, I always say.”

  “Why are you still here, Quain?” Sariel said, trying to keep his body from lunging out of the protection spell, needing nothing more than to squeeze the life out of Quain. “Don’t you have bigger plans than this?”

  Quain smiled, his teeth white, slick, and even. Next to Sariel, Miranda flinched, grabbing onto Sariel’s arm.

  “It was rather a surprise to see Kallisto pulled away like that,” Quain said, walking the perimeter of the protection spell. “I’d had such hopes for her, but you.” Quain looked at Miranda. “You were stronger than she expected. Stronger than any of us imagined. Much like your mother, I suppose. Annoying woman. Always in the way at the worst of times.”

  Miranda took in a quick bite of air, her mind full of confused thoughts.

  Don’t pay attention, Sariel thought, taking her hand. He’s trying to provoke us.

  “Leave Miranda out of this.” Sariel kept his eyes on Quain’s, watching the thin man’s every move as he circled them.

  “How noble. Such a gentleman, after all,” Quain said. “And again, I see a parent’s influence. How touching this all is. I’m almost beside myself.”

  At Quain’s words, Sariel felt his mind fill with angry buzz, all his thoughts white with heat and hate. How good it would feel to grasp his scrawny neck in his hands, strangle him until there wasn’t breath or beat in his body, use his feet, hands, legs, his entire body to stop the man from feeling or thinking or being able to walk the planet at all.

  Sariel, Miranda thought. Stop.

  “She’s wise,” Quain said. “And strong. Stronger than even Kallisto. So I’m going to have to borrow her. Probably forever, or until she’s worn out, from work and perhaps pleasure. You see, what I have in mind today needs just that little bit of extra energy. Kallisto was going to help, but, sadly, she’s all tied up. What do you say, Miranda? Ready for a little adventure?”

  “Leave her out of this,” Sariel said. “This isn’t her fight. This isn’t her battle. She doesn’t have the training or background to help you. Take me. I’ll do what you want. Just leave Miranda out of this.”

  Quain smiled broadly, shaking his head. “Again! The nobility! The poise. The sacrifice. What your father wouldn’t give to see you now. How puffed up and proud he would be. How much you sound like him, always Zosime and the boys. The family. Croyant. The planet. When he could have come with me, worked with me, been by my side and changed everything.”

  Sariel stared at Quain, watching the man talk, pace the room, his hands moving wildly.

  “But no. So virtuous. So ‘normal.’ So average. So Moyenne in thought. That little suburban ghetto you grew up in?” Quain sneered. “You should have known your father years ago, when he was a young man, before that hag Zosime. The magic in the man. He could have had anything he wanted. The world could have been just at his fingertips.”

  Smiling a face full of hate at Sariel, Quain stopped pacing, standing in front of Sariel again. “What a waste. What did he get out of that life? Two worthless boys.” He pointed at Rufus’s and Felix’s still bodies. “And one who is scared of matter and had to be saved by a woman. Then there’s Zosime. A wife? My God, if you could have really known Hadrian like I did. If you could have seen him then. In Rome…”

  Quain went on, his mind lost in memory and rage, and Sariel quietly took Miranda’s hand. Suddenly, he understood everything, the largest missing piece of his life puzzle finally crashing at his feet. Why hadn’t he thought of it before? Croyant or Moyenne, magic or not, everything seemed to always boil down to love, and its offshoots, lust and jealousy. Despite magic and spells and charms, Sariel knew that the only way to counteract death and fear was love. With a sour, acid taste in his mouth, Sariel knew that Quain had loved his father, stayed as his partner for love, killed him for love, punished the world for a love he had never had enough of. Because he’d been rejected by love, he embraced hate and fear and murder.

  I could have ended up like him, Sariel thought, thinking of his anger after Kallisto betrayed him and the way he’d wanted to hide from everything and everyone he’d loved. If not for Miranda, he might have become as lost and hard as Quain.

  But he wasn’t like Quain. He had found Miranda, and Sariel knew that if Miranda were taken, she’d need clues to get to Quain, just as she had with Kallisto.

  Miranda? he thought.

  She didn’t think back right away, her mind full of stunned amazement at Quain’s rant.

  Miranda, Sariel said again. Pay attention.

  What? she thought after a moment. Sariel, what are we going to do?

  I’m going to give you some images, he thought back. Take them all. Use them all if you have to. Remember what you did with Kallisto.

  But she said it didn’t work, Miranda thought.

  She was lying. Look where she is now. Remember that. I’ll come as soon as I can.

  And then, as Quain told stories of the past, the past he wanted more than the future he was killing for, Sariel gave Miranda the images that might save her and them all.

  Quain was sweating, his robe wet at the neck. His story over, he wiped his face with his hand, even his angry smile gone. “But that’s the past. And look how far I’ve gone without Hadrian. In only a matter of minutes, I’ll have the third plaque. The world will finally be the way I want it.”

  Sariel squeezed Miranda’s hand once, and then let it go, moving as close as he could to Quain within the protection spell.

  “That’s right,” Sariel said. “Just the way you want it. But where are your followers, Quain? All those recruits you had all over the world? In the past week, they’ve fled their posts, hunted out by my colleagues. You say you’ve sent your people on ahead of you, but they weren’t here when we arrived. No one was here but Kallisto, and she’s gone for good. The only person still loyal is that tubercular Labaan. And now, when you need the rest, who is standing by your side?” Sariel pushed out the words, letting his stone wall fall in his mind. Quain couldn’t see what he was doing.

  Quain laughed, throwing back his head, his face pasty and yellowed, his eyes a burning black. “I have two plaques and soon the third. I don’t need anyone but your lovely girlfriend, Miranda. My miracle. She’ll be my conduit. My energy. Too bad she won’t survive it.”

  Miranda breathed in deeply, but she didn’t say a word. Sariel felt her mind close down, protecting the images he’d just given her.

  Quain stopped talking, staring at Sariel, lifting a hand and then letting it fall to his side. “You are so like him.”

  His stomach clenched at the thought of Quain touching him, but Sariel kept his gaze even and strong, his mind shut. He said nothing, watching Quain’s anger and megalomania twist across h
is face.

  “Enough! Enough!” With one quick movement, Quain shattered the protection spell, grabbed Miranda, and then held up a hand.

  Sariel felt the wall in his mind shudder, but he clamped it down, knowing that the plan that he and Miranda had was the only thing that could save her.

  “Good-bye, Valasay. Give your father my regards,” Quain said, holding up a hand, and then all Sariel felt was darkness, pain, the quiet of the empty room, and then nothing.

  He floated in his mind, circling the wall he still held tight. His consciousness scurried like a rat along the stones, trying to find something. But what? He moved, sniffing in the corners, round and round and round. Sariel felt the dirt below the wall, his little feet moving in swift, flickering steps. He had a question he knew he needed to answer, but it was so easy to pad around the wall, nothing new in sight, the dirt and stone and the movement of his feet something he would get used to. But there was something. What was he looking for? What had he lost?

  He knew he needed to find it, so he moved faster, a fan of dust behind him. Round he went, again and again, until he began to see something, a light, a waver of white and gold. That was it. Sariel ran toward the opening, but it was far away and receding. The faster he went, the faster it disappeared. So he pressed on, his body growing as he did, changing from rat to cat to lion to horse to gazelle. All he could feel was his blood and breath and muscles, his entire being wanting nothing more than that fractured slit of color. On and on, round the wall, toward the light. And there it was. All he had to do was jump across it, but he was in his body again, his man’s body, and the jump was far and wide and long and hard. But he had to. He knew it. It was for someone he loved. Someone very important. Who was it? Who did he need to jump for? As he stared at the light, his mind slowly opened.

  Miranda.

  Sariel started running again, swinging his arms, and then he leaped, pushing off hard with his legs. His feet touched the edge of the light, and then he slipped and fell and then clung to the corner of brightness, his body dangling into a pit of forever darkness. As his hands slipped on the bright, smooth surface, Sariel could feel the darkness reach up tentacles that curled around his ankles, his calves, moving up to his thighs. Aching up from the bottom of the pit, he felt such an endless welling of despair and loneliness and hate. He wouldn’t go there. He couldn’t.

  Pulling as hard as he could, his arms shaking from the effort, he kicked off the tentacles, battering them with his feet and then yanked himself up on the ledge, taking in a huge lungful of air, blinking against the brightness. Breathing out, he pulled himself up fully and let his eyes adjust. In the middle of the light was a misty window and through it, he saw the room he’d just left. There, stretched out and unconscious on the table, was Nala. Sayblee, Baris, and Mazi still stood like zombies, their shoulders touching. Lutalo, Rufus, and Felix were on the floor, barely breathing.

  Some other form he didn’t quite recognize lay right before him, cold and motionless.

  He knew he had to get back to the room. Three more steps. That’s all he needed to take. But his body felt heavy and stuck. Each tiny movement felt like he was lifting mountains. But he did it. One foot down, the next up and before it. One. The next foot moved, the other moving. Two. He was breathing hard, his lungs empty, his head pounding, his hair slick with sweat. Only one more. He pulled his foot up, set it down and then he leaned forward, grabbing the edges of the light, and fell through, hearing his own scream as he plummeted down, falling so fast and with such speed, he slipped out of consciousness.

  Sariel jerked up, panting. He was sitting on the floor of the room, shivering in a cold sweat, his body weak. Everything was as he’d seen it from the light, just the same. Miranda was still gone.

  He wiped his face and grabbed onto a chair, pulling himself up and leaning against it for a moment. As he stood, his heart slowly began to beat in a normal rhythm, his breathing slowed, and he went back to his mind and lifted the stone wall, letting all his thoughts out.

  Turning toward Mazi, Baris, and Sayblee, who moved slightly to imaginary waves in a nonexistent ocean, Sariel closed his eyes, held up a hand and said, “Reveiller.”

  Sariel opened his eyes and watched them carefully, but they didn’t startle, blink, turn to him. They were blank, empty, seaweed swaying in tidal currents. Nothing. Sariel was too weak, his powers drained from escaping the darkness.

  He sat in the chair, leaned over, and rested his head in his hands. Miranda was with Quain. Even now, she could have already been used up, cast aside. Quain might be changing everything at this moment, the world in chaos. And Miranda? Miranda!

  Sariel breathed in and stood up, holding out his hand, and closing his eyes. Again, he said, “Reveiller.”

  Without opening his eyes, he slumped back into the chair, his legs unable to carry his weight, all his muscles in revolt. But at a murmur, a sigh, he looked up. The three of them were looking at him, rubbing their faces, turning to look for the others.

  “What happened?” Sayblee asked. “Where’s Quain? Where’s Miranda?”

  When Sariel heard Miranda’s name come from Sayblee, the name of his beloved in the room like a song, he stood up, shaking off fatigue.

  “Quain has her,” Sariel said quickly. “We need to wake the others. I don’t know what spell he used. But he put me somewhere—it took all my energy to wake you up.”

  Mazi and Baris nodded and hurried over to Nala. Sayblee came to Sariel, put a hand on his shoulder, letting her hot, fiery energy course between them. For a minute, they were joined by her heat, and Sariel felt life come back to him, his blood and heart beating stronger, filling his brain with oxygen.

  Slowly, Sayblee took away her hand and looked at him. “Are you better?”

  Sariel breathed out, his lungs no longer heavy from exertion. “Thank you.”

  “Let’s go tend to your brothers and Lutalo.” She grabbed Sariel’s arm and they walked together toward the unconscious men. “We need to—”

  “We need to find Miranda. Quain is going to use her up and toss her away,” Sariel said. “He’s going to kill her to get what he wants.”

  Nala awakened on the table, holding her arm against her body. “We must go,” she said, as Mazi healed her wound. “Leave them for later.”

  Sariel ignored her, putting a hand on Rufus and Felix, as Sayblee touched Lutalo. He wasn’t going to fight Quain without his brothers. Now that Sariel knew what hurt Quain, the three Valasay brothers were the weapon of choice. They were from Hadrian, of Hadrian, and, like Hadrian, didn’t want Quain. Hated him. With the images he’d given Miranda, Sariel knew that he and his brothers could do the rest.

  Cold to the touch, his brothers seemed almost frozen, stiff and still and barely breathing.

  “Sariel!” Nala said, but he ignored her, busy determining what Quain had done to the three men.

  “It’s a paralysie spell,” Sariel said. “Counteract it with survenir.“

  Sayblee nodded, closing her eyes and putting both hands on Lutalo.

  Breathing in, Sariel closed his eyes, feeling the warmth inside him expand and pour from his hands to his brothers. “Survenir,” he said, letting the word into his body and pass from his skin to theirs.

  For a moment nothing happened. Sariel opened his eyes and wondered if he was still weak from escaping the pit, but then, Rufus stirred, and then Felix.

  “Bloody hell,” Rufus said, sitting up, blinking. “What am I doing on the flipping floor?”

  Felix rubbed his forehead and then pushed back his hair, wincing as he touched a knot on his head.

  “Check me for a concussion later, bro,” he said as Sariel extended them both a hand, pulling up his brothers.

  “We don’t have much time. But I have to show you something.”

  Standing close, their arms entwined, Sariel let his brothers see and hear the memory of his conversation with Quain and then showed Rufus and Felix the images he’d given Miranda.

  “He’s mad
,” Rufus said, opening his eyes.

  “He’s deadly,” Sariel said.

  “Let’s go,” Felix said, and the three of them separated and turned to the rest of the group. Lutalo was awake but limping slightly, Sayblee holding him by the elbow. Baris, Mazi, and Nala watched Sariel, waiting for a word.

  “Nala,” Sariel said, and she held up a hand.

  “I listened in. You are right. It’s the only plan we have. We need to get to the third plaque. We need to finish this.”

  Limping and groaning and moving slower than they had earlier, the group came together, conjured matter, and disappeared.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Jerked away from Sariel and then jolted into a room warm with yellow light, Miranda gasped. She’d seen no gray and come to the room faster than any of the times she’d traveled matter.

  “You’re used to horse and buggy, my dear,” Quain said. “You just traveled at the speed of light.”

  “Where are we?” Miranda said, trying to distract him while she pulled down the wall in her mind as Sariel had taught her. As her eyes adjusted to the light, she saw the comfortable room, the upholstered wingback chairs, the dying embers in the stone fireplace, the thick plaster walls. On a rug, a shaggy dog slept, deaf to the sounds of the intruders.

  “You are in my home,” said a voice from a dark corner.

  Miranda felt Quain’s surprise and then anger fill the room. Slowly, she let a tendril of thought rest near his mind, waiting for the moment when she would have to go in and let loose the images Sariel had given her. A flash of grief and worry surged through her mind, and she clamped it down behind the wall. She couldn’t think of Sariel. Couldn’t remember her last vision of him on the floor, pale and still, his dark hair splayed around him.

  “Adalbert,” Quain said, his voice slick with power.

  “Yes, and I see you’ve brought a visitor. You’re both welcome, if uninvited,” Adalbert said, coming out from the corner.

  He was old, his hair white, his face covered in a wispy beard. “What can I do for you?”