The Last Spell

by J. A. White

  “That’s impossible,” Kara said. “Rygoth may be able to do a lot of things, but she can’t see into the—”

  Safi, she thought. Who knows what Rygoth has done to her? Maybe she finally broke.

  “No,” Taff said, reading the thought in Kara’s eyes. “Safi would never lead Rygoth to us. No matter what.”

  “You’re right.”

  She touched Taff’s cheek and saw Xindra wince in disgust at the physical contact.

  “I don’t know who this Safi is,” Xindra said. “Or how the Spider Queen knew your future whereabouts. The letter simply informed me that she expected both you and the grim to be waiting for her when she arrived. What choice did I have?”

  “You could have said no,” suggested Lucas.

  “And then what? A repeat of the massacre at Ta’men Keep, only with Rygoth murdering families and children instead of soldiers? Why sacrifice those lives when in the end she’ll take what she wants anyway?”

  “But our lives can be sacrificed?” Kara asked. “Why is that okay? Because we’re not from around here?”

  “Excuse me kindly please, but you outsiders do not know what it’s like to live under the cover of darkness for two thousand years. Only now are we climbing back into the light, and to lose all the progress we’ve made . . . if I do as Rygoth asks, she’ll create a creature capable of swallowing the Clinging Mist. The Plague Barrier will lift forever. My people will walk in the warmth of the sun again. How can I refuse?”

  “She’s lying to you.”

  “Perhaps,” Xindra admitted. “I am not a fool. I know what she is. But a chance at life is still a better choice than certain death, no?”

  “It depends on the cost,” Kara said. “You want to lead your people out of the darkness? Stand with me. We’ll fight Rygoth together.”

  “Excuse me for this, but you are just a child.”

  “I am,” Kara said. “And yet Rygoth seems awfully worried about me, doesn’t she? One might even say afraid. Let me out of here and let’s give her a surprise. This is your chance, Xindra. The people of Kutt can become Sentium’s greatest heroes!”

  The woman teetered, tasting honor on her lips. Come on, Kara thought, knowing that it was useless to say anything more. Come on!

  Xindra bowed.

  “I am so sorry,” she said and started walking away.

  Kara pounded her fists against the glass pane.

  “Think about what I said!” she shouted. “There’s still time to change your mind. Rygoth won’t be here for days yet.”

  Xindra turned around.

  “About that. Another falsehood. So sorry. The Spider Queen is traveling through the Clinging Mist as we speak. She’ll be here any minute.”

  After Xindra left, no doubt to prepare for Rygoth’s arrival, the children stood in stunned silence. Kara had been tricked before—more times than she wanted to remember—but she thought she had been getting better at noticing the telltale signs of duplicity. She supposed that Xindra had fooled her so easily because there had truly been no evil in her heart. In her mind she’s doing the right thing—sacrificing strangers in order to save her own people.

  Knowing this didn’t make Kara feel much better, nor did it change their current predicament.

  “What’s the plan?” Lucas finally whispered.

  He kept his voice low. There were still guards just outside the chamber, their backs pressed against the glass.

  Taff halfheartedly lifted his slingshot. He fired an invisible pellet that plinked off the glass so pathetically that the soldier stationed there didn’t even turn around at the sound.

  “Thought so,” Taff said.

  “Magic?” Lucas asked.

  Kara shook her head.

  “I reached out with my powers while I was still talking to Xindra,” she said. “There are animals in the museum—so many that it’s hard to sort through all their voices. They’re all locked up in cages, though. No way they can get here.”

  “Rats?” Taff asked, with a hint of a grin. “Come on. There’s always rats.”

  “Not even them,” Kara said. “Knowing how the Kuttians feel about disease, I’m guessing they figured out a way to eradicate all the vermin. I don’t even sense any insects. And there’s nothing alive in the Clinging Mist whatsoever.”

  They couldn’t have picked a more perfect prison for me, Kara thought.

  Chuckling to herself, Grace tottered over to the other side of the room and leaned against the wall. She tapped her walking stick against the floor in a steady rhythm.

  “I’m sorry,” Lucas said. “Are we boring you?”

  “Why are we even talking about this when the solution is so obvious?” she asked.

  “We’re all ears,” replied Lucas.

  “And no brains,” Grace said, “so I’ll talk slow and keep it simple. Kara uses her powers to control the mind of one of those guards outside. He kills the other guards and opens the gate.” Grace pointed her walking stick in their direction. “Then we kill the guard that helps us—or just knock him unconscious. I do think it’s important to reward a job well done.”

  For a few moments, Kara was too furious to speak.

  “How can you even suggest something like that?” she asked.

  “Are you saying that my plan is not the best option?”

  “I don’t kill people.”

  Grace smiled.

  “Sure you do,” she said. “Or have you forgotten about my friend Simon?”

  “That was different,” Kara said. When she was close to losing her temper she got quieter, not louder; her voice was barely above a whisper now. “He was going to kill Taff.”

  “And what do you think Rygoth will do to the whelp when she gets here? Play a round of marbles?”

  “Kara,” Lucas said, stepping between the two girls. “Is it possible to—not kill anyone, of course—but just make the guard pull the lever for us . . .”

  “So you’re on her side now?” Kara asked, jabbing a finger in Grace’s direction.

  “Of course not,” Lucas said in a calming voice. “I just think we ought to consider all the possible—”

  “I can’t force another person to do my bidding.”

  “Can’t?” Grace asked. “Or won’t?”

  Kara ignored her and kept her attention on Lucas.

  “Controlling people’s minds is really dark magic,” she said. “I’d be no better than Rygoth.”

  “And so we all die,” Grace said, “because Kara mustn’t get her pure little hands dirty.”

  Kara spun in her direction.

  “Even if I wanted to cast a spell like that, I couldn’t. I don’t have it in me. I’m not like you.”

  Grace sighed with relief, as though the conversation were finally heading in the right direction.

  “I disagree,” she said. “I’ve seen how much you enjoy bossing people around. Forcing them to do your bidding seems like the next natural step.”

  “Stop it!” Lucas exclaimed. “This is getting us nowhere!”

  Grace grinned triumphantly, like a general who has just thought of a military maneuver that would guarantee victory, and turned on Lucas.

  “Do you really think you’re in a position to give orders, Stench?” she asked.

  Lucas winced at the word, a particularly nasty name for a Clearer. Kara hadn’t heard the insult since leaving De’Noran.

  “Don’t call me that,” he said through gritted teeth.

  “Why not?” Grace asked, leaning forward on her walking stick. “It’s what you are. The lonely Stench who followed a pretty girl across the ocean. Pathetic. You’re just Kara’s shadow. Without her, you barely even exist. Do you really think someone like her could love a boy like you? Your own parents didn’t even want you!”

  Lucas took a step forward, eyes blazing. Kara blocked his path.

  “Don’t listen to her,” she whispered, trying to control her own temper. “It’s not true. None of it is true.”

  While Kara tried to calm
her friend, Taff took a step forward. He looked sadly up at Grace.

  “I thought you’d changed,” he said. “Why are you being so mean all of a sudden?”

  “Because this is who she really is,” snapped Kara. “She could only hide it for so long.”

  “Yes!” Grace said, her expression oddly pleading. She gripped Kara by the arms and shook her madly. “Tell me! Tell me who I am! I need to hear it!”

  The dam broke, releasing Kara’s anger in full force. She shoved Grace away.

  “You’re a foul, evil, hideous witch!”

  Grace started to laugh, a barely human cackle dancing along waves of madness. Kara and Lucas froze in place. Taff clapped his hands over his ears.

  “Thank you,” Grace said. “That was exactly what I needed to hear. I’m foul. Evil. Hideous. I had almost forgotten. How fitting that you should be the one to set me on my proper path again.”

  Grace snapped the walking stick in half.

  The two pieces of splintered wood seemed to come alive in her hands, twisting like a snake, re-forming into something new. Grace was changing as well. Long white hair regrew from her scalp. Her leg healed itself with loud cracking sounds. The shoddy clothes she had been wearing for weeks transformed into a bright-yellow dress.

  Kara knew that she should act, that each moment lost was a moment wasted, but all she could do was watch in astonishment as Grace rose to her feet, her former beauty completely restored.

  I’m such a fool, she thought.

  The walking stick, now just a swirling cyclone of splinters, exploded in a flash of blue light. In its place was a large book the color of sunflowers, which lingered in the air for just a moment before dropping into Grace’s open hands.

  A grimoire.

  “The look on your face is even better than I imagined,” she said.

  Lucas reacted first, diving forward in an attempt to knock the spellbook away. He wasn’t fast enough. Grace read a few words from the grimoire and Lucas flew across the room, slamming against the wall. When he tried to charge her again the wall held him fast, stretching against his efforts like a web.

  “Mmm,” Grace purred. “Magic. It’s been such a long time.”

  Taff reached for his slingshot and it froze in his hands. He dropped it in shock. The slingshot shattered into a hundred pieces.

  “Yes,” Grace said. “How could I ever question . . . this is what I am. This is right.”

  She looked up at Kara, her blue eyes suddenly calm and in control, and read from the grimoire. Kara winced at the flow of unrecognizable syllables.

  This is the end, she thought, pulling Taff close. This is the . . .

  A yellow ribbon materialized in the air and landed in Grace’s open palm.

  “Shall I tell you a story?” she asked.

  Gasping with relief, Kara backed away as Grace began to weave the ribbon through her hair.

  “You might not believe me,” she said as her fingers worked nimbly, “but I really did get rid of my grimoire at the start. I was willing to give up magic forever if it meant I would remain safe from the Faceless. I slept in barns and begged for scraps of food. It didn’t matter. I was just happy to be alive. An old carpenter and his wife even took me in for a while. They had lost their own daughter, and I had this misguided notion that maybe I could start over again. That lasted for about three weeks.” Grace twisted the ribbon in her hair one final time and knotted it tight, creating a perfect bow. “Then Rygoth found me.”

  The Kuttian guards peered through the glass, watching the unexpected developments with interest. They looked uncertain about whether they should enter the chamber or remain safely outside. As she spoke, Grace strolled around the perimeter of the room, examining each man in turn.

  “At first, I thought that she had come to kill me,” Grace said. “After all, I had helped save your father. In her mind, I was your friend—and she really doesn’t like you, Kara. But Rygoth wasn’t angry with me at all. Just the opposite. She saw great potential that had been wasted, a ‘gorgeous flower wilted by the world.’ Those were her words exactly.” Grace smiled with genuine joy. “She didn’t want me to be anyone different. She understood.”

  Kara kept backing away, trying to keep as much distance between Taff and Grace as possible. She scanned the room for some sort of weapon, but there was only the red chest sitting on the pedestal.

  Maybe I could throw it at her, she thought, her mind racing. Knock her unconscious. She reached out with her wexari powers but found nothing new; all her winged and clawed saviors were locked in cages, unable to help.

  “Rygoth gave me this,” Grace said, raising the yellow book with reverence. “My true grimoire. One that spoke my name. And then she asked for my help. See, her seer, your friend Safi, had turned out to be a lot more stubborn than anticipated, and so Rygoth needed someone new to find the grims.”

  “Let me guess,” Kara scoffed. “You.”

  “Actually, no,” Grace said, savoring the moment. She pointed directly at Kara. “You.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The Spider Queen’s hatred for you knows no bounds, but you’re the only person to ever face her twice and survive. There is a grudging respect there. She knew you’d search for the grims, and that there was even a possibility you might find them. Rygoth decided to let you do her work for her and then take them in the end. She couldn’t keep an eye on you herself, obviously, so she sent someone you trusted instead.”

  “You?” Kara asked. “Odd choice.”

  “That’s what I thought at first,” Grace said. “But Rygoth, in her infinite wisdom, anticipated that this would be the perfect way to flaunt your weakness.”

  “And what is my weakness?” Kara asked coldly.

  “Compassion. You’d never be able to resist a lost soul in search of redemption. And so I cut my hair and dirtied my clothes, in order to play the part, and transformed my grimoire into a walking stick. My job was to stay close, help you on your quest. Endear myself. Whenever I had a chance—like when you left me alone at Dolrose Castle—I sent Rygoth messages. I told her that we had the pages from the Vulkera. I told her we were coming here. I even told her about the grim stored in Auren.” Grace clasped her hand to her face in mock concern. “Oh no! That’s where you told your father to go, wasn’t it? That means you sent him right into a trap!”

  Kara picked up the red chest and hurled it at Grace as hard as she could. Her aim was true, the chest spiraling right at Grace’s face.

  It stopped in midair.

  “I’ll be honest,” Grace said. “I expected better from you.”

  Kara’s satchel burst into flames. She tossed it away before the fire could spread across her body . . . only there was no fire, not anymore. It had been an illusion.

  The unharmed satchel flew into Grace’s hand.

  “Half the Vulkera,” she said, opening the drawstring in order to add the chest. “Rygoth will be pleased. But I am going to place these prizes in her hands myself. Why should I wait here and allow that foolish Kuttian to get the credit? I’m the one who did all the work. All she did was lock a door.”

  Grace turned to a new page in the grimoire, spoke several jarring words, and yanked an old rag out of the book. She wiped this across one of the glass gates, back and forth, as though cleaning the surface.

  The glass vanished.

  The guards, who had abandoned their positions and gathered in a tight circle, raised their weapons. This would have been far more intimidating were it not for their shaking knees and sweat-stained jumpsuits.

  Grace raised the rag.

  “This works on people, too,” she said.

  The guards ran off.

  “What now?” Lucas asked, his hands still pinioned to the wall. “You kill us? Bring our bodies back to your master?”

  Grace waved her hand and Lucas fell from the wall.

  “You’re all free to go,” Grace said.

  Lucas rose to his feet, rubbing his wrists. He exchanged
a bewildered look with Kara.

  “Is this another one of your tricks?” he asked.

  “No trick,” Grace said. “You freed me from the Well of Witches. I’m returning the favor. That’s all.”

  Kara had never been more confused in her life.

  “What about everything you just said? You’re working for Rygoth! You can’t just set us free!”

  “Kara,” Lucas said, leading her toward the door. “If she wants to let us go, let’s not argue with her.”

  “My job was to get the grims,” Grace said, “which I now have. That’s all Rygoth cares about.”

  “That’s not true and you know it. She won’t be happy when she learns you let us go.”

  “Oh, right,” Grace said. “You think this is all about you. As always.”

  “Come on,” Lucas said, pulling Kara away.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Grace snapped. “You probably won’t even escape this place alive. They’ll be looking for you. Not just Rygoth. Everyone in Kutt.”

  The words were harsh, but Grace’s eyes were fearful and confused. Even while sending them away she had taken a few inadvertent steps in their direction.

  She doesn’t know who she is right now.

  Kara shook free of Lucas’s grip.

  “Come with us,” she said.

  “What?” asked Lucas and Taff in unison.

  Kara pointed to Grace’s grimoire. More than half the pages had already been used.

  “You’re running out,” Kara said. “Soon you’ll be at your Last Spell. Then it’s back to the Well of Witches. Don’t make the same mistake again.”

  “That won’t happen this time,” Grace said. “After Rygoth has the Vulkera, she’s promised to make me a grimoire with an unlimited number of pages. No Last Spell ever again. I’ll be safe.”

  “You can’t trust her.”

  “Like you care.”

  “I do,” Kara said, stepping forward. “And I think you do too, more than you want to admit.”

  “Have you not heard a word I said? I was only pretending to care so that—”

  “It might have started that way, but there came a point where we grew comfortable with each other. Not friends, exactly, but no longer enemies. We traveled across Sentium together. You ate with us every night. You shared the story about your father.”