by C. Ellsworth
Mama reached over and took Addy’s hand again. “You don’t have to fear that here, Adele. No harm can come from the Power in this place. And, oh, the wonderful things we can do with it!”
Addy raised her eyes, and Mama met them with a reassuring smile. She really was a beautiful woman. “Can you show me how?”
Mama stood and drew Addy to her feet, eyes shining suddenly with excitement. “Of course, dear. Come. Come with me, and I’ll show you how to create worlds.”
* * * * *
Mayor Robert Aldis stood upon the balcony of his second-story office, looking out over a city in slumber. The hot, night air was stagnant and stifling, forcing him to dab frequently at the sweat on his face with a gold-embroidered handkerchief. A cold drink would have been welcome right then, but finding a servant to fetch ice at this late hour would be a hassle. And then there would be the half-hidden frowns and irritable sighs he’d have to endure. Servants could be an insufferable lot. Necessary, but insufferable.
Looking out over the horizon, the mayor gave a shudder. Almost nine months had passed since that day when the sky had exploded with the brilliance of a dozen suns. It had lasted only a moment, but when it was done, the Light atop the Tower had been extinguished. Then came the rains, ten straight days of unrelenting showers. His stomach grew queasy. He had never been a very religious man, but the Spirelight had always been a symbol, an icon for the Lord. Now that it was gone, was there a Lord? Was there anyone left to pray to on those occasions when he found time to do so?
In the days that followed the Great Flash, as they now called it, there was panic among the people. Would their souls be doomed to walk the earth forever, stuck somewhere between this life and the next? No one could answer that, of course, but life had to continue, and it was his job to keep everything from falling into chaos. It had taken no small number of assurances—and some . . . creative tales—to finally console them. But some still clung to the belief, the fear, that the Lord had abandoned them.
Simple-minded fools, all of them.
He slammed his fist onto the steel railing of the balcony. How terribly awry it had all gone! How could he have been so wrong? The texts were clear. He had translated them himself! Phineus had warned him about reading too much into those ancient words, but the sage was old beyond useful. Still . . .
Karine . . .
For months he had held out hope that the boy, Ryan, was wrong about his daughter’s death. After all, he was nothing but a filthy, uneducated rogue! A liar, no doubt! But after so many months it was clear that his child—his beloved child!—would never return. Karine, my darling, I’m sorry I had to involve you in this! He swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. No one understood the sacrifices he’d had to make to lead these ingrates! Would they ever appreciate the fact that he had given up his only child? For them? Of course not!
And then there was Adele, the foolish child! She had only to do what he had suggested, and . . . and what? Would he still be standing here? Would he have been reborn, remade, as he had reasoned? Yes, it had all gone terribly awry.
There was a sound behind him, from within his office. It must be his wife. He turned and stared into the darkened room. “Pressia?” Only shadows loomed before him. The candle had gone out while he had stood outside in contemplation. “Pressia, my sweet, is that you? It’s late. Whatever are you doing up at this—”
Pale eyes floated toward him out of the darkness. His heart seized. He tried to step back, but the waist-high railing barred his way. He had nowhere to go!
A dark, slender figure emerged, giving shape to the owner of those ghostly orbs. It was clad all in black, leaving only a narrow band open to expose the eyes. Skeg!
What was a skeg doing here in his home? Robert opened his mouth to speak, but his tongue felt numb, his mouth dry as parchment. If only he could call out, Pressia might hear, or perhaps the Guard. All he managed, though, was a choked squeak before a gloved hand closed over his mouth.
“We had a bargain, fat one.” It was a man’s voice, and it came through the veil, cold and icy, and thick with accent. He stood with face just inches from Robert’s, close enough to see that his eyes were of two different colors, one a pale blue, the other a pale green.
Robert’s stomach churned, threatening to empty its contents. What did the skeg want with him? Surely he could be reasoned with! As mayor, he had resources. He had wealth! He had everything a man could want. If only he could speak, explain . . .
The gloved hand fell away, and the skeg produced a rope, a rope tied in a noose.
A scream rose in the mayor’s throat, but all that came out was a horse rasp. His chest constricted. He couldn’t breathe! Around his large neck, the noose went, and Robert’s knees trembled. His head swam dizzily.
The skeg brought his veiled face close to Robert’s again, his breath hot and smelling of rancid meat. “We promised our secrets to you, filthy t’chitak! We promised our water, the lifeblood of our people. All for the marked girl. And now our chief is dead! Our priestess is dead! You have failed us!”
Failed? How had he failed? He had done everything he had prom—
The noose went tight, and Mayor Robert Aldis broke into uncontrollable sobs. All that he had built, all that he had sacrificed. For nothing! Pressia! Where was his beloved wife? Why was she not there to save him? And where were those idiot guards? Why had they not stopped this skeg from getting inside the walls in the first place? Oh, Spirelight! Oh, Lord of Light, hear me! Save me! If not for myself then . . . then for the people! They cannot survive without me!
The other end of the rope went around the railing, tied securely into a knot. The skeg straightened, standing before Robert with a quiet calm. A moment passed with no sound but that of Robert’s cries. Then the skeg gave a quick shove, and Mayor Aldis tumbled backward over the railing.
The air rushed past, stagnant and stifling. Then the rope jerked taught.
* * * * *
The sun was hot on Ryan’s back as he stood on the flowering field, the air thick with the scent of sweet nectar. It was nearing summer now, and the farmers were working the field in the distance. He tugged loose the ties of his cream-colored shirt and wiped an arm across his brow. It wasn’t yet midday, but he was already working up a sweat just standing there.
He pulled back his long hair and tied it at the nape of his neck with a strap of leather. Then he turned his attention to the boy beside him. “Steady.” The boy was holding a raised bow, arrow notched and aimed at a bale of hay ten paces away. Gevin was turning out to be quite skilled with the weapon.
The bowstring twanged, and the arrow flew, striking the hay with a satisfying thud. Gevin let out a cheer and did a little spin and dance. He had changed so much. It wasn’t so long ago when he needed crutches just to cross the room, and now he could practically sprint.
Ryan breathed a sigh, his heart clenching. Gevin looked a little like her, Addy. She had been so beautiful there in the Tower, staring down at him, eyes glistening with tears and a smile on her face. Then the Light had taken her, taken her from him. But she had saved them all.
None of that mattered now, though. Addy was gone.
Sunlight glinted off the stone figure dangling from his neck. It was worn smooth, its paint terribly faded, and one of the arms had broken off. Liah’s necklace, a silly child’s toy. But Addy had given it to him, and so he would keep it close for as long as he lived.
Ryan looked out over the valley where the sun was reflecting off the silvery Tower. It still stood, despite the destruction the quakes had caused in the Waste. But no radiant beam shot from its spire now, no divine light that pierced the sky. Did the Lord of Light still dwell there? No matter.
Landen clapped his hands together and laughed. There was still a hint of sadness in his eyes, but seeing his son growing stronger by the day must have been a small comfort.
Ryan met the man’s gaze and smiled. They had become friends, of a sort, after Ryan returned from the Tower to share the tale of
his daughter and how she had sacrificed herself to save them all. Almost nine months had passed since then. Had it been that long already?
His gaze turned outward. What had been the Twisted Lands and the Waste were now a thriving expanse of green, a land of new growth, a new beginning. It was her gift to them, her parting gift. He shook his head. Enough with the somber thoughts.
He turned back to Gevin. “All right. Let me have a go, will ya?”
Gevin smiled and handed the weapon over. “Show us that trick, Ryan! Where you split the apple!”
Landen smiled and produced an apple from his pocket. “I have the target.”
Ryan gave a nod, and the man trotted down to place the fruit atop the bale of hay, returning as Ryan notched an arrow. He was never really good with a bow, not like Addy, but an apple didn’t move. An apple didn’t dodge. He could do this with his eyes closed!
“Steady.” Gevin giggled, and Ryan gave him a wry smile. Wisecracker!
Lifting the bow, he drew the arrow back and stared down its shaft at the plump, red apple beyond. Steady . . . He let loose the arrow with a twang of the bowstring, and it flew, sailing through the air with a hiss.
And it missed.
What? How? The arrow pierced the ground beyond the hay bale. Impossible! How had he missed? He felt heat rise in his cheeks.
Gevin’s shoulders sagged. “Aw!”
Landen gave a soft chuckle and slapped Ryan on the back. “Maybe I’ll show him how it’s done.”
Ryan snorted. “The sun got in my eyes.” Yeah, that was it, you Faege-brained idiot! No, not Faege-brained. Wool-headed maybe. There was no Faege. Not anymore.
A soft voice called suddenly from behind them. “Don’t hold your breath before you shoot. Exhale slowly and then wait for two heartbeats before releasing.”
Ryan’s heart skipped. His breath froze. He whirled about, and there standing before him was Addy. And, Lord of Light, she was beautiful! Words formed on his tongue, but they refused to leave his lips.
Dressed in a pale blue dress, she stood with a wide smile on her oval face, brown hair shimmering down past her shoulders. Her vibrant brown eyes, like soft pools, regarded him warmly. How was this possible? By the Spirelight, she was alive and standing right there! His knees wobbled.
Pushing past Ryan, Gevin ran—he ran!—to her and threw his arms around her waist and sobbed into her dress. “Addy! I missed you! I missed you so much!”
Addy clung to him as though he might slip from her grasp and fly away. Her eyes glistened with tears. “I missed you too, Wiggly!”
Landen’s legs suddenly gave way, and Ryan threw an arm around him before he could drop to the ground. The man’s eyes welled with tears, and he clamped his hands over his mouth, but the sobs escaped through his fingers. He wavered as though he might pass out, but he took one step forward and then another. “Addy?” Tears streaked down his weathered cheeks. “I . . . I can’t believe my eyes. How?”
Reaching her finally, Landen took her gently by the shoulders and looked down at her through tears. His hand rose, shaking, and touched her face. His mouth worked as if searching for words and finding none. Then he pulled her into a firm embrace—Gevin smooshed between them—and cried softly into her hair.
Over Landen’s shoulder, Addy’s tear-filled eyes met Ryan’s, and her brows creased with emotion. Spirelight, she was beautiful! Spirelight! His heart throbbed. Was she happy to see him? She looked happy to see him! His throat grew tight, and his eyes grew misty. What had happened to her? They had been in that light, and then she had vanished. She had sacrificed herself! And yet here she was, alive. Healthy. Perfect. What had she sacrificed if not her life? It didn’t matter. She was here!
Addy drew back from her father, detangled herself from Gevin, and smiled through her tears. “How is everyone?”
Landon wiped at his eyes and gave a soft chuckle. “We’re well, Addy. We’re all very well. But you! What happened? Are you all right?”
Addy placed a gentle hand to her papa’s face for a moment, her lower lip quivering. Her voice became strained with emotion. “I’m well, Papa.” She nodded, hair and tears shining in the sunlight. “I’m well.”
Gevin giggled and spun around on his heel, wavering only a little before he caught his balance and finished with a bow. “I can run, Addy!” A grin split his slender face in two. “I can run!”
Addy tousled the boy’s hair and laughed. “So you can, Wiggly! So you can!
A second and third wave of hugs and kisses went around before Landen and Gevin finally stepped back, tear-stained faces aglow. Addy wiped at her own glistening cheeks, and then her eyes fell upon Ryan again. And this time, her gaze lingered for more than just a moment.
His heart skipped a beat. This had to be a dream.
Landen abruptly cleared his throat. “Come along, Gevin.” He pulled the boy to the side. “I think these two could use a moment alone.” He gave Ryan a wink and Addy one last kiss, and then he and Gevin were walking down the hill, side-by-side.
She stared into his eyes, and his heart raced. Lord of Light, she was beautiful! He kept saying that, but it was true. It was so true! What do I say? Rot me, I can’t think of a thing to say! “I . . . uh . . . hi!” Hi? Oh, blast me for a fool! The way his cheeks grew hot, he must have been crimson! He had faced unthinkable horrors, traversed the desolate Waste, nearly died, and yet here he was, befuddled by a woman. That had never happened before.
Addy crossed the short distance between them. She took his hands into her hers, and with her warm, brown eyes, she looked up at him. “Hi.” Her voice was soft velvet. She looked happy and amused and on the verge of crying all at the same time.
Ryan’s chest swelled. To have her in his arms, to hold her, to kiss her lips . . . “I—I never thought I’d see you again.” His voice wavered, a lump trying to form in his throat. “How did you—”
Addy touched her finger to his lips, cutting him off, and then she leaned in close to press her mouth against his. A pain shot through his heart, an intense, longing pain. He closed his eyes and drank her in. She was warm and soft and tasted of sweet tears, and her scent was of roses.
When they finally drew apart, Ryan looked into her eyes and worked moisture into a mouth suddenly dry. “I . . . I must be dreaming.”
Addy’s gaze on him was warm, her eyes adoring. Her perfect lips parted, and her voice was a caress. “Then kiss me again, Ryan. Kiss me before you wake.”
And then she smiled.