Scarlet and the Keepers of Light

by Brandon Charles West

  ***

  The children turned out to be twenty boys and girls of varying ages, some as young as six, a few as old as fourteen. Having been born and raised in this new version of the world, they were not at all taken aback by Dakota talking, or the mention of magic. A few seemed apprehensive about Brennan, who towered over them, but his calm, easygoing manner soon brought them around. The entire group of them looked skinny, but otherwise well cared for, and at seeing Ms. Thandiwe a few of the younger ones rushed over to her and clung to her side.

  “Thandy,” one of the youngest said, tugging on Ms. Thandiwe’s skirt. “Have they brought us more food?”

  Scarlet smiled at the little girl’s accent. Doing quick math in her head, Scarlet realized that Ms. Thandiwe would have raised the little girl since shortly after she was born.

  “No, sweetheart,” Ms. Thandiwe said to the little girl. “They have come to stay with us.” She turned to Scarlet. “They call me Thandy. Many have tried to call me Mommy, but I did not think that was right. They all had mothers. Brave and wonderful women. Ms. Thandiwe is just too formal, though, don’t you think?”

  They all ate in the reading room, which seemed to serve as the general living area for Ms. Thandiwe and the children. The meal consisted mainly of canned goods, although Ms. Thandiwe made a point of placing everything out as best she could so that they ate in some semblance of order, like a real family. After dinner Scarlet was treated to something she had dearly missed since leaving her home: Ms. Thandiwe read to all the children, her lilting voice filling the chamber. For a moment, Scarlet as well as the children felt carried away from the painful memories and danger that lurked outside the walls.

  Later that night, Brennan and Dakota pored over a floor map of the Library of Congress, paying special attention to the building they were in, the Thomas Jefferson Building, and the tunnels that led to the Adams and Madison Buildings, as well as the Capitol. It was a lot of ground to defend. There were so many possible entrances that it seemed almost impossible to secure them all.

  “What about what the old woman said about the tiranthropes staying away from the library? Do you think there’s something to that?” Brennan asked.

  “I don’t know, and there’s no way we can be sure,” Dakota confessed. “It might be that there was just nothing they really cared about inside before. After all, once the adults left, it was only Ms. Thandiwe and a group of children—hardly a threat. Besides, we are going to have to leave soon. Scarlet has to complete her magical education if we are ever to have a chance at beating Prince Thanerbos. I don’t like the thought of leaving them here, with things the way they are.”

  Although Dakota was initially reluctant to tell Brennan about their plans, his actions to save them in the Capitol Mall had earned Brennan the right to know. Dakota was still guarded, considering Brennan’s involvement with a Mortada, but until something proved him to be other than an ally, Brennan had gained Dakota’s reluctant trust.

  An idea had suddenly occurred to Brennan. “Back at the school, the door was covered by roots and then right before you came out, they moved aside. Was that your magic?”

  “No, it was Scarlet’s. Why?” Dakota asked.

  “Maybe she could do it in reverse. Put up roots to block the doors to the buildings and tunnels,” Brennan suggested.

  “I’m afraid that might take a great deal of energy. I’m not sure she’d be up to it,” Dakota said, feeling particularly overprotective.

  They studied the map in silence for several minutes before Dakota spoke again.

  “Perhaps if we combine a little magic with some heavy lifting, we might be able to get it done. Have Scarlet close a few of the key entrances and work on barricading the rest,” Dakota suggested.

  “I could certainly gather up some of the older boys and Delfi. If we worked at it, I bet we could make a fair bit of progress,” Brennan offered.

  ***

  The next morning Brennan talked to Ms. Thandiwe and informed her of his intentions. He’d expected her to object that the tiranthropes naturally stayed away from the library, but she was in fact keen to improve the security of her chosen refuge.

  Brennan, Delfi, and three of Ms. Thandiwe’s boys—a small, thin boy of fourteen named John Farrington, who had thick curly hair and thicker glasses, and two pudgy boys of thirteen, each with the same narrow eyes, who remained so quiet that Brennan never learned their names, only that they were brothers but not twins—worked the entire day emptying shelves and desks and using them to barricade the library’s entrances. It was hard, slow work. Brennan was pleased with how eager the boys were to pitch in. Their small size and undernourishment meant that they couldn’t lift much at a time, and worked slowly. When evening finally came and Brennan called the work done for the day, they had managed to block up seven entrances. Scarlet, he found out when they met up again, had managed to seal up the tunnel to the Madison Building.

  At dinner Scarlet looked exhausted, and Brennan began to understand what Dakota meant about conserving her energy. At the current pace, Brennan figured, it would take a week to cover all the entrances.

  As it turned out, they would have only one more day.

  27

  Jefferson’s Last Stand

  The following day began the same as the first, with Brennan and the boys working on entrances. The only difference was that Dakota insisted Scarlet rest, and not try to close up another tunnel until she had fully recovered. In the evening they all met in the reading room for another canned meal. Despite the less than inspiring food, good spirits seemed to prevail—at least, until the first roar pierced the inner sanctum of the library. More disconcertingly, it was not a faint, far-off call, but the loud, clear yowl of a tiranthrope announcing his presence just outside the walls.

  Brennan, Scarlet, Delfi, and Dakota all rushed to the third floor to look out the windows. What they saw sent their stomachs tumbling to the floor. Tiranthropes, Mortada, and creatures neither Brennan nor Scarlet had ever seen before thronged around the library.

  “Incruetati,” Dakota said, answering Brennan and Scarlet’s unspoken question. “I haven’t heard of them being seen in Satorium in ages.”

  Whatever behavior they might have displayed before, the evil beings outside did not appear to be the slightest reluctant to cross onto the library grounds now. The new creatures, which looked like crosses between bats and men, had taken posts above the rest, perched on unlit streetlights and the roofs of the adjacent buildings.

  “We can’t possibly fight all of them,” Delfi announced with a slight tremble in his throat, although his face wore a determined expression.

  “No, we can’t,” Dakota admitted, “but we’re going to have to.” He turned and put his head through the railing, calling down to Ms. Thandiwe. “Take all the food you can carry and get yourself and all the children into one of the vaults downstairs.”

  Even though Ms. Thandiwe would have liked to protest and stand by Scarlet’s side, she could not argue with the fact that twenty children needed her. She began to gather up the children, giving each as much food as he or she could carry and ushering them down the steps toward the vaults below the building.

  “I don’t understand,” Scarlet began in a rush. “Ms. Thandiwe said that the beasts stayed away from the library.”

  Dakota looked at Scarlet and Delfi. “Maybe it’s the Mortada. Maybe they weren’t here before. I don’t know, but I want you to listen to me. You need to stay safe. I want you to stay inside.”

  “No,” Scarlet protested. “You can’t go out there alone.”

  “He won’t,” Brennan said quickly.

  “I thought this was my destiny,” Scarlet pleaded. “To fight against the prince and his army,” Scarlet pleaded.

  “Yes, but first you have to be ready for the prince.” Dakota didn’t mince words. “It does the world no good if you die first.”

 
; “But I can’t lose you too, Dakota. I can’t!” Scarlet threw her arms around him, hot tears falling down her face.

  “You have to be strong, Scarlet. Stick with Delfi. Take care of each other. Find a way to continue if I don’t come back—do you understand?” Dakota said, his voice trembling slightly.

  “I don’t know what to do without you,” Scarlet said, burying her face in Dakota’s thick fur.

  “You will, sweetheart, you will.” Perhaps it had something to do with the time he had spent as a puppy, snuggled beside her as she slept, perhaps it was just some deep-seated sentimentality he hadn’t known he possessed, but in that moment Dakota knew that he loved Scarlet. He loved her as deeply as any dog had ever loved his master, and that, he knew, was saying quite a lot.

  Scarlet finally let go, and Dakota trotted off. Brennan extended his hand to Scarlet, who took it in both of hers. “I hope I see you again.”

  “Me too,” Scarlet called out as Brennan ran off after Dakota.

  Brennan and Dakota left through one of the entrances that had yet to be sealed. The sky above them was pitch-black, not a star in the sky. The moon hung eerily alone, full and bright, giving a pale silvery light to the scene in front of the library. Framed by the looming Capitol, which seemed to drink in the moonlight, was the army of Mortada, tiranthropes, and incruetati. Brennan and Dakota stood on the steps before the army, looking insignificant in the face of such overwhelming odds. The tiranthropes snarled at the odd pair of warriors, itching to attack, but for the moment stayed in place.

  “Legend has it that your people have an inner power that gives you supernatural strength,” Dakota said offhandedly to Brennan, his eyes fixed on the army. “Any chance that legend is true?”

  Brennan smiled. “It’s true. Problem is, I’ve got no control over when it comes and goes.”

  “Well, at least that’s something,” Dakota quipped in a rare moment of frivolity—brought on, no doubt, by the fact that he was surely facing his death.

  One of the Mortada stepped forward from the ranks. “Udd Lyall, is that you?” Multus, the Mortada with the strangely flaking skin who Brennan had attacked in the woods, called in a lilting almost whimsical voice. “We had heard rumors that you had . . . well, changed.” The Mortada laughed. “Lord of Wolves indeed.”

  Dakota held his head high and said, “I am Dakota.” Thoughts of his father passed through his mind at that moment. The love and pride his father had shown him. The hope that one day, he, Udd Lyall, would succeed him as the leader of the Stidolph, and how after his father’s death, Dakota had shied away from such responsibility. Well, no more would he carry that shame. “I am the Lord of Wolves,” he added defiantly.

  Multus laughed again. “You are revered in Satorium—although I must point out that we are not in Satorium.” Several of the other Mortada joined in the joke, laughing in a creepy, unnatural chorus. “All the same, our lord would wish that we uphold at least the ancient courtesies. If you leave the field and step aside, you may go in peace. We will not seek you out. You may live out your remaining days as a dog, doing whatever you please.”

  “I know this Mortada,” Brennan whispered to Dakota. “He was the one Chosen was afraid of. Didn’t seem too eager to deal with me, though.”

  “I know him as well,” Dakota whispered cryptically. Then he spoke boldly to the Mortada. “I will not stand aside. You will not have the girl, this night or any other.”

  “I thought you might say that. Hoped is more like it,” Multus sang out, though his voice had lost a great deal of its whimsical quality.

  Multus swept his arm toward the pair, and the tiranthropes sprang forward, quickly closing the distance. Brennan and Dakota ran out to meet them, and blood and fur flew as the fighting began. Dakota leaped and spun, snapping out at the tiranthropes and dodging most of the blows that came his way. Brennan, locked in a wrestling match with two of the tiranthropes, quickly failed under the weight and strength of them.

  Scarlet watched the scene unfold with growing horror from the third floor of the library. It wouldn’t be long before both Dakota and Brennan were killed. The sound of voices and footsteps below brought Scarlet’s attention away from the window. Ms. Thandiwe and the children had come back up into the main lobby.

  Scarlet rushed to the railing. “What’s happened? Why aren’t you in the vault?”

  Ms. Thandiwe looked ashen. “They are coming through the tunnel from the Capitol. They’ll be here any minute.”

  Scarlet had to do something—she just didn’t know what. She and her family hadn’t gone through all of this, hadn’t learned all this, to have it end here. Her first and most pressing thought was to do something to save Dakota and Brennan, and it took a tremendous effort for her to put that aside. Dakota had been clear. She needed to stay safe.

  Scarlet ran to the reading room, where Ms. Thandiwe had gathered the children. Wide with fear and shock, their eyes pleaded with Scarlet. Not knowing what else to do, she lay on the floor, her cheek against the cold stone, and began to whisper to the earth. She prayed to it for understanding, for it to grant what seemed impossible. She remembered Jud-Byr’s warning about his magic: he could not create what wasn’t there. He could not speak to nothing.

  But Scarlet was the For Tol Don. She had not wanted to fully accept that, but if it were true, as all her friends believed, then her magic—all magic—could come from within her. The legend was that she, unlike the dwarves, had the power to create what wasn’t there. She remembered Dakota’s explanation from what now seemed like ages ago.

  Scarlet closed her eyes and rose to her knees, searching within herself for the power that must be there. She had to believe. She had to conjure forth something that would save them all.

  For a terrifyingly long moment, nothing happened. Then the ground began to shake, the walls trembled, and hideous wails filled the air. And suddenly Scarlet knew what was happening, though she wasn’t sure how she knew. It was almost as if she could see it. Enormous roots were erupting through the floor of the tunnel, crushing the Mortada coming through the tunnel, killing or injuring many and cutting the rest off from the building. Across every entrance to the Thomas Jefferson Building, every door and window, roots were bursting violently from the ground, completely encasing the building in a thick woven armor of living wood. When Scarlet finally stood, dizzy and nearly fainting, the Thomas Jefferson Building had become an impenetrable fortress of wood and stone.

  Delfi ran to Scarlet’s side, catching her as her knees buckled. “Help me to the window,” Scarlet pleaded, her voice weak and distant.

  Delfi did not argue. He motioned to one of the eldest boys, and they helped her up the steps and to the window that looked out to the front of the building. Scarlet waved her hand, and the roots rearranged themselves, opening a small gap to allow them to see the battle below.

  The Tempest had come to Brennan, and given him the strength to keep himself and Dakota alive. They were both weakened by grave wounds, however, and now the Mortada had joined the fight, casting their dark spells as the incruetati began circling over Brennan and Dakota’s heads.

  “They won’t last much longer,” Delfi cried. “I should go. I should go and help them.”

  Scarlet put a hand on his shoulder. “No. You’ll die.”

  She felt so weak, so drained. But she had to do something. Charging out of the building wouldn’t help—the Mortada would be on her before she got a foot out the door. And Delfi had been just as susceptible to their dark magic as she was; he wouldn’t last any longer. She suddenly realized what she had to do. Dakota would be furious; it went against his wishes directly. It risked everything. However, For Tol Don or not, she was not a person who could let her friends die. She just couldn’t.

  Scarlet allowed herself to fall to her knees. Delfi went to help her up, but she bade him back with an upraised hand. Closing her eyes, she drew deep within herself . . . dee
per than she had ever gone before. She searched not just for her inner light but for the very origin of that light. She allowed it to build, adding her rage, her fear, her love, her sorrow. It was a living thing, wild and untamed, unlike the restrained and controlled magic Xavier had taught her to master. When at last she could hold it in no more, she raised her hands to the sky and let it out, falling to the ground as darkness overtook her.

  And now a sphere of light exploded out from her, so bright and powerful that it penetrated everything in its wake in concentric rings as it spread. It passed out of the Thomas Jefferson Building and into the night, illuminating all of DC in a light brighter than the sunniest of days. The tiranthropes, Mortada, and incruetati cowered in the intolerable glare. Some attempted to flee. All were swallowed up in its brilliance.

  When the light faded, they had all vanished.

  28

  The Sorrowful Return

  For a week Charles had been wandering over the plains, hoping against hope for a miracle—for any sign of his daughter, any hint at how to get to her. Finally, starving and dehydrated, he decided with a heavy heart that his best chance at finding Scarlet was to return to Xavier. If anyone would know what to do, it would be the wise Keeper of Light.

  The hike back to Illuminora was excruciating. His mind could not turn off the grief. It hollowed him out, made every step an agony. He made no attempt to disguise his presence as he trudged through the forest. If any Mortada had been left in the area, they would have captured or killed him as easily as an orphaned cub. Looking back, he would never understand how he made it back to the great oak at all.

  After all the time Charles had spent underneath the oak tree, it amazed him how small the opening in the trunk now seemed to be; it seemed a lifetime ago now that he had come here for the first time with his family. With Scarlet. He fell down at the base of the tree, crying out for Xavier.