Tears welled in her eyes as she swung the lamplight lower.
The light revealed a thin leather-bound notebook with a hand-drawn rose on its spine.
She gasped. Her head buzzed and her legs turned to mush. Her hand trembled casting creaky shadows across the stack.
"What's wrong?" Jo came up beside her and peeled the lamp from her white-knuckled grip.
Heart pounding, she pulled away book after book. She tossed each aside until she reached the notebook. Her pulse raced so fast, her heart beat in her temples. With a trembling hand, she picked up the notebook and peeled open the cover.
Tears streaked her face and she couldn't suppress a triumphant laugh.
Jo leaned in casting light over the pages. "It's all numbers and strange symbols."
She smiled and wiped away a tear. "Elan and I made our own code."
Jo's mouth fell open and the girl's face turned ashen. "You knew Elan?"
She nodded. "We discovered magic together."
"What was he like?" Jo said.
She fluttered through the pages searching for the end. "He —"
A piece of paper slipped free and drifted downward before settling at her feet.
Jo bent, scooped up the paper, and handed her an aged yellow note.
The paper, written in the same code, contained four brief sentences.
Her eyes flashed across the symbols decoding as she read.
Darius doesn't speak for me. I never asked you to leave Meranthia. I believe I know how to reverse the curse. Come find me. E.
The room spun, her legs buckled, and the note slid from her fingers. She collapsed and the notebook tumbled away.
Jo knelt beside her and spoke words of comfort, but her world collapsed. She wailed and pounded her fists against the cold marble floor.
CHAPTER FIFTY
Inner Glow
A thorny red branch slithered around Danielle's neck.
Her breaths came in short ragged pulls and a slow drumming throb settled at the base of her skull. She clawed at the heartwood limb snaring her throat but the tree wouldn't budge.
Brees stood frozen beneath the archway. The shaman's eyes registered raw panic.
The tree pulled on her magic reserves siphoning more of her precious strength. Like a ball of unwinding yarn, her insides turned to jelly and her vision blurred at the edges.
A low gurgling scream came from nearer the tree. Jeremy. Her stomach rolled and she strained to free her arms from the tree's grasp. Would her life end here? Killed by the tree to which she'd devoted her life.
Brees turned and stared down the hallway leading from Trace's workshop.
"Brees," she said straining to blurt out the word.
The shaman's gaze met hers and a fresh wave of panic sprouted in her mind.
Fear settled in the shaman's eyes, but something else lurked too. A loathing perhaps. A look she'd never seen that caught her off-guard.
A low humming noise came from her belt pouch setting off a vibration across her stomach.
What would vibrate in her pouch? Her mind raced through the contents: Black vine seeds, Healing plant seeds, Trace's petrified heartwood seed, and one last item. The dormant heartwood sample she and Kelwin created back in Freehold.
She suppressed a scream of triumph and stretched her mind toward the humming at her waist.
The evil heartwood's presence slammed into her consciousness.
Pain rippled across her body. The limb circling her throat tightened and blackness crept at the edge of her vision.
Keely’s high-pitched scream echoed across the room.
Willing forth her dwindling energy reserves, she lashed out with a spike of nature magic.
A hissing sound roared in her mind and the presence retreated.
She latched on to the heartwood inside her pouch and it sang inside her mind with the voice of an angel. Tears welled in her eyes and she poured magic through the link.
A golden-red limb curled beneath the closed belt pouch and raced along her body.
Her head spun and vision dimmed. The golden heartwood sang while the evil presence fled from her mind.
Liquid currents of red and gold washed over her body and slid beneath the evil tree's limbs.
A distant screech filled her mind and the pressure around her neck vanished. She gasped and filled her lungs with precious air.
The golden heartwood chirped a melody unlike anything she'd heard from the grove.
Voices shouted and robed figures spilled into the room. The whoosh of fire preceded the acrid stench of burning wood.
Her mind recoiled and the chirping grew to manic levels. The evil presence faded while fear flared inside her mind. Fear not born of her own emotional response. The fear came from the entity inside her thoughts.
Blurred images of people running and shouting mixed with a purple haze of smoke.
She choked and rolled over curling into a tight ball.
The golden-red heartwood flowed around her coating her body like a second skin.
A crackle of lightning flashed through the smoke. A shout and a scream.
She recognized the shouts. Keely and Arber. Where was Jeremy? With a groan she rolled over hacking, coughing, and retching out streams of bile and mucus.
The golden heartwood hummed.
Soothing vibrations drifted through her body then vanished.
Strong hands grabbed her and dragged her by the arms across the workshop. "Brees?" Her voice sounded fuzzy and distant while shadowy figures dragged her across the room.
Air, fresh and sweet, crossed her lips and she leaned backward finding a hard surface behind her back. Tears streamed from her red, stinging eyes. She gagged again, retching up a second round of bile.
A tugging sensation pulled at her waistline and her pouch slipped away.
She stiffened and her eyes shot open.
Brees stood a few feet away speaking with a second man. A shaman. She didn't recognize the bearded man.
The shaman nodded, spoke in a low hushed tone, and hoisted up a leather pack.
Jeremy's pack. A pack containing both Lora's and Elan's Spheres. Why had Brees taken her belt pouch? "What are you doing?" She choked on the words setting in motion a fresh bout of gagging.
"Saving you," Brees said.
She crawled onto her hands and knees and peered into the room beyond.
Smoke poured from the workshop and any sign of the evil tree had vanished.
"Give me my belt pouch," she said.
A veil of electricity appeared around her leaving Brees obscured. She jerked upward and spun in a quick circle. "What are you doing?"
"I told you Danielle," Brees said. "I can't let you build the gate. I'm sorry."
She reached for her magic but found emptiness and exhaustion. Where had the golden tree gone? Had they burned it? She reached out with her mind and found nothing. The heartwood tree in Trace's workshop had died killing any hope of curing the plague.
"You've sentenced us all to death." Her stomach twisted and her gaze fell to the hallway leading to the workshop.
Three electrical cocoons held Arber, Keely, and Jeremy. None of them moved.
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
The Taint
Pain, hot and sharp, like a molten shard of jagged glass raked through Ronan's legs. Stifling air clogged his nostrils and the flavor of decay coated his dry lips.
He pushed his eyelids open and blackness consumed his field of vision. His chest tightened and panic flared in his head. He groped the space around him trying to find a handhold. Had he gone blind?
A jolt of pain lurched across his arms and back. He reached for Elan's magic. It wouldn't come. "General Demos," he said, desperation lacing his words.
His voice echoed across a vast chamber. No response came in return.
"General Demos can't hear you," a voice said.
He turned his head searching for the voice. "Who said that?"
No response came.
"Why can't I
see you?" He said.
"You've but to open your eyes," the voice said.
"What? My eyes are open."
The voice fell silent.
"Can you help me?"
"You don't belong here," the voice said.
"Where am I?" He tried to move his legs and pain flared.
"You are nowhere."
"I don't understand."
"Why have you come here?" The voice said.
"I need your help," he said. "I'm sick. My soul thread is tainted."
"You don't belong here and I won't help you," the presence said.
His stomach dropped. "I've reached the end then. I'm out of choices."
A long silence fell in the chamber before the presence spoke again. "Your life is nothing but a series of choices. You've arrived here because of your poor choices."
"That's not true," he said. "I'm here because the world needs me. My friends and family need me. The world is facing desperate times and I'm a desperate man."
"You've brought this on yourself," the voice said. "I have no pity for you."
His chest tightened and his body trembling. He would die here alone without Rika. Without his family. His life an utter failure. "Please...I would do anything," he said in a whimper.
For a long moment, silence hung heavy. "Only you can reverse the course of your destiny," the presence said. "If you're willing to pay the price, then perhaps I can lend aid. Even to one such as you.
Such as him? What did that mean?
"Your past holds the key to your future," the presence said. "Find the wrong to right and reverse your course."
What did the presence mean? "How? I don't understand."
"You can make but one choice," the presence said. "Choose."
The presence faded and his vision flashed replaced by a field of bright light.
Pain flared through his body.
A dragon's distant roar bristled the hair at the nape of his neck. The sulfurous stench of burning constricted his throat.
In his arms, Rika lay motionless. Cuts and bruises littered Rika's arms, chest, and legs.
Another roar. His skin crawled. He pulled Rika in tight and turned his gaze toward the buildings around him.
The citadel burned a dozen yards away and the arena beyond.
Freehold. But how? He'd lived through this moment once before. The moment when he discovered the raw current of magic running through his body apart from Elan's.
"Choose," the presence said from inside his own thoughts.
Puffs of steam billowed from his lips and he pulled Rika in tighter. Cold air stung his cheeks.
Another roar came near the arena followed by an explosion.
"Choose what?" His heart hammered and he dipped his face into Rika's hair inhaling her scent. Elan knew how he missed her and she felt real to his touch. This moment they'd both lived through. He'd asked for Patron Tyrell's guidance. His old mentor had answered awakening his power. Power he'd used to heal Rika.
"Rika." He dragged his fingertips across her face. Icy cold greeted his touch. Rika wouldn't live but a few minutes longer.
Rika didn't answer, and he knew she wouldn't. Couldn't. He turned his gaze skyward. "What choice do I have? I can't let her die. I can't let them all die."
He rocked Rika in his arms. If he had never embraced his true magic, would the winter events have turned out differently?
He fought against his instincts and rocked Rika in his arms. "I can't let her die. I can't choose."
"Choose," the presence said again.
He craned his gaze skyward toward the smoke-filled sky. "Please God. I can't choose."
If he didn't embrace his soul magic, would they all die? He squeezed his eyes closed and held Rika tight.
"Ronan, you cannot alter the past," a second presence said.
Tears formed in his eyes. "Master Tyrell?"
"The spirit speaking to you is a liar," Master Tyrell's voice said. "It seeks death alone and you cannot trust it. There is always a path forward.
"Then help me," he said.
A fresh power flowed through his body. A power he recognized. The one he'd used to save Freehold and the world from Trace's dragon herd.
His vision blurred and the world flashed.
A woman's strong grip clutched his arm. Golden curls spilled over the woman's shoulders.
His heart hammered. "Mother?"
Queen Arianne's blue eyes held his and his mother's lips turned up forming a weak smile.
His face flushed while a hideous truth slammed home. He would relive the moment of his mother's death or change the world's fate forever.
"Choose," the presence said in his mind.
"Oh mother." With a trembling hand he touched his mother's living flesh and tears welled in his eyes.
"You're such a handsome boy." Arianne's feather touch brushed his chin. Pain touched the queen's eyes. "Did I ever tell you that you're the spitting image of your father?" The queen's voice trembled.
How could he let her die? He wouldn't. He would save her this time and set right the wrong that had thrown the world into turmoil. He returned her smile. "I know. He's a good man mother and I know you made your decision with love."
"You mustn't interfere." Master Tyrell's voice bubbled in his thoughts. "You’ll set forth a chain of events that could lead to the world's destruction.
The golden glow of a shard blade lent color to his mother's ashen complexion. "I'll wait here with you until help arrives. I'll not leave you alone," Sergeant Brunte said.
He had seconds before Merric Pride murdered his mother. His thoughts turned to Rika. If he stopped his mother's murder, would he forget Rika? How could he live without Rika?
What if he died saving his mother? Where would that leave the world? If the barrier fell and he wasn't alive to stop what came after, could the world survive without him?
He took his mother's hands and squeezed. "I love you mother and father loves you too. Danielle is well. I've met her. She looks just like you."
Tears welled in the queen's eyes. "How could you know that?"
"I'm sorry mother." His chest tightened and tears streaked his cheeks.
The air behind Sergeant Brunte shimmered. Merric Pride appeared.
He offered the battle knight no warning, squeezed his eyes shut, and the world flashed again.
Sunlight broke above a grove of pine trees.
The sinking sensation of flight set his stomach swirling. A sharp tingle twined along his spine and he whirled trying to get his bearings.
He sat atop a war-bird whose wings beat with savage ferocity.
In front of him, Danielle leaned forward and spoke into the guardian's ear.
His heart lurched. North Camp. He sat atop Rika's back. He recalled the details surrounding the day they escaped North Camp. The day Master Tyrell died.
He craned his neck sideways and his heart hammered.
Patron Tyrell and Kelwin Finn sat atop Keely's back. Fifty feet below, guards swarmed North Camp. Salvos of arrows whistled through the air.
"Choose," the presence said.
Tears came to his eyes. His head throbbed in time with the pounding of his heart. He could save Master Tyrell.
Adrenaline washed through his body. Could he channel magic? He reached for Elan's magic and found it willing and able to serve him. He commanded the magic, sending a wave surging through his body. He tapped into his energy in ways he hadn't understood the first time they fled North Camp. He could alter history. Had the presence chosen this moment because a living Patron Tyrell would alter the course of his own life?
Through blurry tear-rimmed eyes he gazed at Patron Tyrell.
"You have no right to alter history," Tyrell's voice spoke in his mind. The man seated atop Keely's back stared into the eyes of a shield knight in the camp below.
"I can save you Master Tyrell," he spoke through the mental bridge. "We can change the world together."
"At what cost?" Tyrell's presence said. "You cann
ot trust the soul taker. He's a liar and a cheat."
"Lies," the presence said. "I'm giving the boy a chance to alter his destiny."
"You do nothing without a price tag attached," Tyrell's presence said. "Ronan, you cannot alter time and the destinies of other people. You are not God."
He shook his head and tears streamed down his cheeks. He opened his mouth to scream a warning for Master Tyrell and words would not come.
Tyrell slipped the pack containing the shards over Kelwin Finn's staff. Master Tyrell stole a last glance in his direction.
His gaze met Tyrell's and knowledge passed between them. Knowledge of the sacrifice to come. "No," he said finding his lost voice.
Tyrell gave a final glance and leaped from Keely's back.
He strained sideways and reached for his master. He reached for the only father he'd ever known. A man he missed with his whole heart. He reached for the shield magic that had not yet taken root inside him and found something foreign.
The sound of screaming, primal and unguarded cut through the air. His screaming, but from another man's body.
He pulled on the thread where the shield magic would later form and it yanked loose. A thin ribbon of blue light formed between he and Master Tyrell. He sent a flare of energy forward. An alien flow of energy.
The ribbon vanished. Patron Tyrell's boots slammed into the knight's shield. Tyrell's shard blade surged with energy. In a blur of motion, Tyrell sliced through the shield knight's neck.
Rika and Keely pushed high above North Camp while soldiers swarmed over Patron Tyrell.
A sickening lump formed in his stomach and he screamed unable to tear his gaze from Patron Tyrell.
The world swirled again.
Darkness surrounded him. Pain flared through his legs and back. The musty stench of the temple brought him back to the present.
"You've chosen," the presence said.
He reached for Elan's magic and it slipped away like a thread of dust. "I've chosen nothing," he said. "I remain the same as before."
"But, you have," the presence said. "You've chosen to leave your path unaltered."
"But, Patron Tyrell. I..."
"You did nothing to save Tyrell. You let him die," the presence said. "You have spurned my offer and now I will have my payment."
Maylin's Gate (Book 3) Page 33