Library of Absolution

by Jennifer Derrick

  "The best course, the only course I can see, is to send her with Margaret and John. They are unknown to the Ministry, so they may be able to pass as average citizens. Frances will attract no special attention with them. They have a chance to give Frances a life that we could never give her. Perhaps she will reach adulthood and return here someday. Our job is to die here, in the service of the one legacy we can leave for her, or for any of her descendants."

  "She shouldn't have to grow up without her parents," Alarick said.

  "No, she shouldn't. No child should. And in a different, better world she wouldn't have to. But we live in this world and sending her away is the best way to keep her safe. It doesn't make it easier, but at least she's too young to have any memory of us. It might hurt her less this way than having us taken from her in a few years when the Ministry inevitably catches us. At least she won't have to watch us die."

  Alarick rested his forehead against hers and quietly breathed with her for a few moments.

  "It will kill me to send her away," he said.

  Elissa wrapped her arms around him and pulled his head down to her shoulder.

  "I know. It's going to kill both of us. The only solace we have is the knowledge that it's the best thing for her."

  She began to sob, and he shifted so he could enfold her in his embrace. She rested her head on his chest and cried. The sounds of her heartbreak broke whatever control he had on his own emotions, and he bowed his head to hers and let loose his own pain.

  They sat there, rocking each other through the storm, for what seemed like hours. Frances' hungry cry finally forced them apart. Beyond the windows, the sun was setting. It would be hours before full darkness, but Alarick's last day with his family was drawing to a close.

  Elissa reluctantly pushed away from him, wiped her eyes, and went to fetch the baby. She returned to the sofa and bared her breast, guiding the tiny mouth to her nipple. Alarick watched this magical moment, painfully aware that this was likely the last time he would witness the miracle of his wife feeding his daughter.

  "How long do we have?" she asked him, dragging him from his reverie.

  "Everyone needs to be gone by morning. Brian estimates two days, but it could be as soon as tomorrow afternoon if the Ministry rushes here."

  "So only hours, then," she said, looking down at Frances.

  "Only hours," he repeated, draping his arm around her and pulling her and the baby close. "Nowhere near enough time."

  They sat in silence, watching Frances feed. Alarick marveled at the baby's bliss. Even in this moment of horrible, painful leave-taking, she knew only goodness, safety, and love. He wished it could always be so for her, even though he knew it would never be.

  When Frances had finished, Alarick reluctantly stood. "I have to go down and take the elderly and infirm to safety. John should have gathered them by now."

  He walked over to her desk and hastily scribbled letters to his eight closest friends, letting them know the Keep was about to fall and to prepare should some of his people find a way to their refuges. There was no time for politeness or explanations, or even goodbyes.

  He kissed Elissa hard and pressed his lips gently to Frances' forehead.

  "I'll be back as soon as I can. Once everyone else is clear, John and Margaret will come to take Frances. I'll be here to say goodbye," he said.

  Elissa nodded. "I'll go pack her things," she said.

  He handed the letters to Elissa. "Drop these in the mailbox when you reach our room. I'm letting others know to expect our refugees."

  She tucked the letters in her dress pocket, extended her cane, and tapped her way toward the door, Frances tucked in the crook of her elbow.

  Alarick watched them go, trying to commit the image to memory. For what purpose he was not certain. Dead men had no memories, and he surely would be dead within a day or two. Still, though, for however long he had left he wanted to remember every detail of the beauty and wonder that were his wife and daughter.

  Downstairs in the dining hall, he found both chaos and order. Residents were bustling around, gathering belongings and forming small groups. Some of the groups were already calling their goodbyes as they moved past him, toward the main hall and the front doors. John, Brian, and the others had done a masterful job of expediting the evacuation.

  The elderly and infirm stood off to one side, awaiting him. There weren't many. Most of the elderly succumbed when a village was sacked. They simply could not evade the Ministry as well as the youngsters could. He found five men and seven women. As far as he knew, only two couples were among them. He decided to take them first.

  "Is there anywhere specific you want to go?" he asked the first couple, "Or simply where I think you might be safest."

  The man shrugged. "We have no family, so wherever you think best."

  "Very well."

  He concentrated and peregrinated them to Adil's. Adil was waiting outside the sandstone wall when Alarick appeared, and he rushed forward.

  "It's true? The Keep is falling?"

  "Yes. I have no time to explain. All I ask is that you please take care of my people."

  "You know I will," Adil said, shepherding the new arrivals through the door. "Will Mrs. Brandon be joining us?"

  Alarick's voice broke when he said, "No. And neither will I. But a couple will be bringing our daughter to you. Please keep her safe."

  Adil reached out and clasped Alarick's hand in his own. "I would offer my congratulations, but not on this dark day. Of course I will take care of her. You know that."

  "And maybe, someday, tell her about me?"

  "Every horrible detail," Adil said, smiling through tears. "And every embarrassing story I know. You can count on it."

  "I know I can. Thank you," Alarick said, quickly embracing Adil.

  He returned to the Keep. The next couple wanted to go to their family in Ireland. Alarick sent the remaining elders to a refuge in Denmark. It wasn't ideal to send elderly people into such a cold climate, but Alarick knew he could not overload Adil's compound, no matter how much he felt it to be the safest place.

  Adil would have enough trouble feeding and caring for any extras as it was. All his friends would face increased pressure at their refuges, assuming his people were fortunate enough to make it to them. Like everything else it wasn't fair, but he had no choice but to ask other wizards to shoulder the burden.

  All through the night, he organized evacuation groups and saw as many as possible safely down the mountain and into the forests surrounding the Keep. He and Margaret took one more turn around the castle, strengthening the protections one last time. They both knew it would do no long-term good, but neither spoke of it. All they could do was buy the castle some extra minutes before Alarick's father revealed it to the Ministry's cannons.

  Neither spoke of Frances, either. Alarick knew Margaret would do her best by his daughter. There was no need to ask it of her.

  When the work was done, they returned to the dining hall. Only John and Brian and a small group of men Alarick knew to be scouts, grooms, and craftsmen remained.

  "Is everyone gone, then?" Alarick asked.

  "Yes. Everyone got off safely," Brian reported. "We saw no sign of the Ministry. The lookouts on the tower reported no one near, and we encountered no one in the forests. We have every reason to believe the evacuation went as well as possible."

  "Good. Then your group is the last to go?" Alarick asked.

  "Unless you would allow us to stay with you, to fight. We would gladly offer our lives."

  "It would serve no purpose," Alarick said. "Death for no reason is merely death. I would have you go and help others. Live to fight on a day when it may make a difference."

  Brian nodded. "Then we thank you, sir, for providing us sanctuary here. Go well," he said.

  He motioned to the other men and they trooped out of the dining hall, each pausing to shake Alarick's hand as they left.

  The sun was now rising outside. Alarick could see the pink
light of what appeared to be a perfect day dawning. Of course. Why did it never rain on the days which seemed made for it? The long night was over and all that remained was to send Frances away. And to die.

  John and Margaret stood together, waiting, Alarick knew, for his signal that it was time. But he could not bring himself to take them to the library. Not yet. He stood, staring out the window, desperately trying to think of any other option. Anything other than giving his daughter away.

  There was no other option. He dropped his shoulders and sighed. Slowly he turned to the older couple.

  "Are you ready?" he asked.

  Margaret nodded, and John picked up a pack from the floor and hefted it onto his shoulder.

  “Let’s go,” Alarick said, leading them out of the hall and upstairs to the library.

  When he opened the library door he saw Elissa, Frances cradled in her arms, standing by the window in the scriptorium. Elissa was whispering urgently to the baby, words Alarick couldn’t hear.

  Haloed in pink and gold from the rising sun, they were even more beautiful. It was all Alarick could do not to grab them and peregrinate them to the first random destination he could think of. For one wild moment he pictured them living somewhere far away, a happy family, their daughter growing to adulthood. Maybe there could be more children, three at least. He saw Elissa and himself growing old, grandchildren playing outside, while their grown children talked to them of their own lives. It was a wonderful vision and Alarick allowed himself a moment to dream.

  But reality beckoned. A happy future would never be his. The very best he could hope for was that his daughter would grow up to have children of her own, grandchildren he would never see. And, of course, that one day the Ministry would fall, and she would be able to resurrect the magical world with the help of her mother's library.

  It helped a bit to remind himself that this was all for her. Everything that had happened here and all that would happen over the next day was for her. For all who would come after. But the pain of parting knew no ease. Unashamed of the tears now flowing freely down his face, he walked over to Elissa, leaving John and Margaret standing awkwardly at the door.

  Elissa heard him and turned to face him, her face a mirror of his own pain magnified a hundred times. How much worse must it be, he thought, for a mother to give up her child? The child she'd carried and known in a way he would never know Frances. The child she'd birthed and fed from her own body. How much more painful must the parting be for her?

  He enfolded the two of them in his arms and simply held on for what seemed like a lifetime, but was really only a few heartbeats. He bent and kissed Frances.

  "Remember me," he whispered to his daughter.

  Frances reached up and clutched his finger in hers. Alarick swore his heart shattered within his chest. He staggered, but found his balance.

  "Are you ready?" he whispered to Elissa.

  She shook her head, but said, "As I'll ever be, I suppose. Her bag is at the end of the desk. The book is in there, too."

  Alarick nodded and fetched the bag, taking it to where John and Margaret waited. "There's a book in here," he said. "Keep it safe and give it to Frances when she's of age. It will tell her how to use this library. Please, neither of you try to open it. It is enchanted so that only a direct descendant of the Book Mesmer may use it."

  Margaret nodded her understanding of how the magic worked. She'd seen Elissa work often enough. "We'll keep it for her," she said. "And when she's ready, if we're still alive, we'll do all we can to help her unlock your legacy."

  Alarick returned to Elissa and Frances. Elissa clutched Frances to her one last time and passed her to Alarick.

  "I… can't," she sobbed, turning her back to him and facing the window.

  Alarick understood. Elissa could not be the one to actually hand her daughter over to others. That job fell to him. He cradled Frances in his arms and began the long, slow walk across the room to where Margaret waited. To his ears, his boots on the tile floor sounded like a funeral march.

  As he walked, he never took his eyes off his daughter. This was their last moment together and he wanted to savor it. He held her in his hands, committing the softness of her body to memory, taking in every feature of her face. She might look like him, but she was beautiful in a way he would never be. Everything about him that was hard and chiseled was softened in her. Soon she would be all that was left of him in this world. The thought made him glad, for the first time, of their resemblance.

  He reached Margaret and, after kissing Frances' tiny head one last time, placed his daughter into her waiting arms.

  There was so much he wanted to say; yet there was also nothing to say. Any instructions or advice would be for naught. Margaret and John would have to navigate the world on their own terms. How they raised his daughter was no longer his business. He knew they would do their best and that had to be enough. He could ask nothing more of them, nor demand any promises.

  Margaret spoke softly to Frances, but Alarick could understand none of it. The roaring in his head was too loud. John stepped forward to shake his hand, but Alarick felt nothing.

  He stepped back and met Margaret's eyes. In them he saw pity and understanding, and a little fear. Good, he thought. Fear would keep her sharp. Fear would make her strong. He nodded once, quickly, and looked down again at Frances.

  Without a word, Margaret took John's hand in hers, waved her wand at their feet, and they disappeared. The last thing Alarick saw was Frances' tiny face, open eyes staring at him.

  Finally, the iron band around his control broke and he howled like a madman.

  Alarick and Elissa were alone in the castle. It was just as well, he thought. They didn't need anyone else to witness their grief. Howls and cries of pain soon gave way to numb silence. Alarick wanted to ask again whether they'd done the right thing, to seek Elissa's reassurance, but he knew asking the question was pointless and would only cause Elissa more pain. Ruminating on regret would help no one.

  Walking as though they'd already been mortally wounded, they went outside to await the Ministry. Alarick sat down on the castle's steps and buried his head in his hands. He felt the stubble of… How many days, now, of beard growth on his cheeks? He didn't know and didn't care. Grooming was the least of his concerns.

  Elissa sat down next to him and looped her arm through his, saying nothing.

  They sat like that into the late afternoon. Finally, Elissa asked, "Do you think the Ministry will come tonight? Or not till morning?"

  Alarick shrugged, neither knowing nor caring.

  "Because if not until morning," she continued, "We have one more night together. I know the circumstances are not ideal, but I would spend one more night with my husband. One more night to love you."

  Alarick turned to her. "Oh, Elissa. I fear that I may be too broken."

  "I know. I'm broken, too. But perhaps, together, we might find something approaching, if not wholeness, at least comfort. Let me comfort you, Alarick Brandon. Let us comfort each other."

  Alarick stared off into the fog billowing up from the base of the mountain for a moment. He did not know if the Ministry would come tonight or tomorrow. What did it matter? If they arrived tonight, so be it. But Elissa was right. They had only this last little bit of time together. They should not waste it.

  Seeing nothing amiss, he stood, scooped Elissa into his arms, and carried her into the castle and upstairs to their room.

  He laid her gently on the bed and saw tears streaming from her eyes.

  "Did I hurt you?" he asked, sitting down next to her.

  "No," she said sitting up and reaching for him. "I just…"

  "I know," he said, taking her hands and placing them on his cheeks.

  Her hands traced his face, lingering over each dimple and groove, following the curve of his lips, remembering. Alarick leaned into her touch, savoring the feeling of her light, cool fingers on his skin.

  Elissa leaned into him, gently kissing his face as he
r fingers continued to move over his jawbone, his neck, and finally twined themselves in his hair, pulling him closer. She took his mouth, tongue lightly tracing his lips until he thought he would explode if he did not have her.

  He wanted to be gentle. Oh, how he wanted this to last. But some monster within him wanted her now, urgently, because in the very next minute the Ministry might show up and end them both. He had to have her. Once more.

  As though she felt the same, she pulled back from the kiss suddenly, grabbed his coat, and began tearing at the buttons. He didn't stop her. What did it matter now if clothing was ruined? She tore his coat off, rucked his shirt free from his waistband, and then ripped the buttons of his shirt apart the same way.

  Chest bared to her, she dove in, licking his nipples and kissing every inch of skin she could find. He moaned and lay back on the bed, pulling her on top of him. He tried to be gentle as he removed her dress, but the fabric fought him and he ended up ripping the back seam down to her waist before shoving the dress down past her hips. She shimmied out of it and lay atop him, naked now.

  Alarick couldn't stand it. He reached between them and began undoing his fly, desperate to get his breeches off and bare all of himself to Elissa. She kneeled astride his hips and helped him, tugging his pants down, dragging off his boots, and yanking his pants free of his ankles.

  When she lay atop him again, her skin burned against his. His hands roamed over her body, greedy, unfocused, simply trying to touch as much of her as possible. When her hand slipped between their bodies and she grasped him gently, he nearly lost control.

  Moaning against her mouth, he said, "No, I can't bear it."

  She pulled her hand back and resumed kissing him, biting his neck and shoulder and generally driving him mad.

  With one swift move, he rolled them so that she was beneath him. Triumphantly, he latched on to one breast and suckled her gently, making her writhe beneath him. His fingers found her center and rubbed her gently.