by Graeme Ing
Choose.
Phyxia: I had doubted her, let her down. She’d tried to tell me all along. I’d been too dim to understand. Grief stabbed at me. Tears poured down my cheeks. My mentor, my first love, how could I live without her enigmatic ways and heart-stopping beauty?
Ayla: brave, fearless, special in a way it had taken me ages to realize. So giving yet demanding of little in return.
The city—my city: the lives, hopes, and dreams of tens of thousands. Their right to live superseded any individual. I had sworn an oath to protect them. Everything I stood for demanded I save them.
Choose.
Still locked in an unreal slow motion, I took a single stride forward, my trembling hand gripping the dagger. I brought my other hand to bear, to hold it still.
I looked for the last time into Phyxia’s incredible eyes. I sought wisdom in her words, certain that her augury had foreseen all that had happened.
Could you harm a friend? If much depended on it?
Let go of what cannot be.
Did that mean her or Ayla? It meant both. Killing Phyxia condemned Ayla to death. Kill Fortak and neither friend are harmed, but the city is destroyed.
There was no choice.
I had a vision of being in this dilemma once before in Caradan’s bedchamber. I blinked away tears and plunged the dagger up to the hilt into Phyxia’s heart.
I’d killed the two women I loved most in this world.
There’d been a flicker of a smile on Phyxia’s face right before she and the elemental were vaporized in a single blast of hot air. My hands flew up to protect my head, but there was no fire.
Sobs shook me and I ached to my bones with loss. I’d killed Phyxia. I’d actually done it. There was so much that I had wanted to know about her. I’d lost that chance forever. For all her talk of choices, I really hadn’t had one. I’d done what had to be done.
Damn everything. I didn’t care. All I wanted was to hold Ayla’s body for the final time, etch her features into my mind so that I would never forget her.
She was gone. I lurched about in the mists that had swirled back into the empty space. She’d been right here. To my left, Caradan returned, this time as a man. I ignored him, Fortak too. Ayla was nowhere to be found. Had the Incuba consumed her? Had she been taken to The Deep with Phyxia?
I threw my head back and howled.
“Lak, must you claim everything I hold dear?”
I stormed back to Fortak, finding him cowering before a pack of shadowy wraiths. Caradan looked on, the curl of a grin on his face, and he smoothed his already-immaculate Guild robe. It was like their roles had become reversed.
The ethereal forms of the wraiths streamed behind them like cloaks, while their eyes burned like fire. I knew their color would be red, except there was no color in this forsaken place, just endless shades of gray. At times they edged closer, and Fortak groaned and writhed. I wished I could get pleasure from that, but all feeling had gone.
“Damn you both,” I said. “What have you done with her body?”
Caradan crossed his arms. “I have done your bidding and the elemental is gone. Now fulfill your end of our bargain.”
“I release you from the bond. Send me back. This place depresses me. It’s over. It’s all over.”
“Not yet. We agreed to Fortak’s death. Take up your blade and finish him.”
I studied my dagger that lay on the ground, dripping with Phyxia’s blood. I never wanted to see that thing again, and turned my back on it.
“You do it, Caradan. I choose to kill no more.”
“You must take his life as a symbol of the new generation casting out the old,” he said. “Let the Guild choose a new path.”
“Kill him yourself and the symbolism runs deeper. You inspired him. Rectify your own failure.”
“He killed your mother,” Caradan said.
I whirled to face Fortak. No, that couldn’t be true. Why hadn’t she told me? The dagger gleamed in my peripheral vision. I took a step toward it.
“Why?” I screamed at him. “She was a staunch defender of the Guild. She…she was the only family I had left.”
The wraiths tightened around him and he paled. I expected him to argue, but his face softened and his eyes pleaded with Caradan.
“Why did you have to tell him?” He reached for me. “Yes, yes, I killed your mother but she forced my hand. That was her big sacrifice, to keep me from claiming Caradan’s power.”
Caradan hissed.
I spat at Fortak. “She was superior to you in every way, and you knew it. Her noble act saved the city we all swore to protect, the city you betrayed.”
“She was soft and full of ideals. She shouldn’t have disobeyed me.”
Caradan laid a hand on my shoulder and I jumped.
“Kill him for all that he has taken from you,” he said.
I looked up at his determined expression, then at Fortak’s clenched face and narrowed eyes.
“I deal with the dead to protect the living,” I said. “I will not kill even him.”
Caradan nodded and approached Fortak, looming over him.
“We’re kindred spirits,” Caradan said. “I killed my wife and you your daughter…”
Wait. What?
“Rather touching that the boy won’t put you out of your misery. He should have, because I won’t. It’s time you shared my endless suffering.”
He snapped his fingers and the wraiths dived upon Fortak. They made no sound. His skin shriveled and flaked at their touch.
“I’m sorry.” Fortak wheezed between his wailing, shrieks so primal that blood sprayed from his nose and throat. “I tried…to keep you…safe.”
Flesh and muscle sloughed from his bones. I forced myself to watch the horrific sight though I wanted to turn away. His legs gave way and he fell onto his side. In seconds, his hair frizzled and crumbled. His eyeballs shriveled and turned to dust in their sockets. Finally, his desiccated body imploded and toppled into a heap.
Gods, I was descended from this man? He murdered my mother. I glanced once more at the heap of dust and bones licked clean by the wraiths, then pitched forward into blackness.
I choked, my mouth full of ash and blood. I attempted to roll over but something heavy pinned my legs. Pain lanced through them. Unable to breathe, I gasped and hacked. When I opened my eyes, the light from Solas above was blinding after the gloom of The Gray, and the sky an incredible, clear green.
So I wasn’t dead.
“He’s over here,” Kolta said from somewhere to my right. “Hurry.”
I tried to call out but could only cough up ash and phlegm.
Hands grabbed my body and something soft slid under my head. The heavy weight scraped across my right leg. I yelped.
“Careful.” Kolta stared down at me with his bug eyes, his face black and marred by oozing scratches.
The crushing weight eased. Several hands pushed and pulled me to my feet, and I found myself standing with Kolta and Semplis in the ruins of a building. It leaned precariously and wide cracks snaked across its charred walls.
“I thought Caradan had killed you both. It’s as good to see you now as it was in The Gray.” I shook Master Semplis’s hand. “Thank you.”
He nodded and started to speak several times before settling on “Sorry.”
Kolta slapped me on the back. “I knew you’d do it, my boy.”
I hung my head. “Ayla’s dead. It’s over. The elemental, Phyxia, Fortak, Caradan, all gone.”
The bones of the building groaned and it settled a few inches.
“We have to move,” Semplis said. “Before it collapses on us.”
My right leg gave way under pressure and I stifled a cry, putting all my weight on my left. Both men leaned in to support my arms on their shoulders. We limped away from the ruins.
Little remained of Market Plaza. Rubble marked its original perimeter, and streets in all directions had been incinerated. Wisps of smoke spiraled into the sky. The clock tower h
ad completely collapsed and only a single wall remained from the once-formidable tax building. Corpses littered every free space, burned to a crisp.
A sorrowful keening came from all around as people wandered aimlessly through the carnage, their shoulders drooped, clothes torn and burned. At intervals they paused to study a body at their feet. They either shook their head and moved on or fell to their knees to clutch a dead loved one. Some did so in silence, while others rocked it in their arms and wailed or sobbed.
My city had reached its lowest point. I had given up everything for this. Ayla and Phyxia were gone, and all around me had been laid waste.
A mother clutched a charred child to her bosom. Tears poured down her face like rain on a window. She said nothing, did nothing, simply held it, stroking its head, seeming not to notice that hair came away with every movement of her hand. What could I say to her? Sorry for your loss but at least we won the war?
I shuffled away through the rubble. The last thing she needed to see was a necromancer. In time she might seek us out to aid the spirits of her dead loved ones, but not yet. Too soon.
Kolta lay a hand on my shoulder. “We should return to the Guild.”
“You go. I want to be alone.”
“There’s nothing you can do here. Come with us.”
I pulled free. “No, I don’t want to hide. I want to see everything that happened here today. I want to revel in the sorrow. I want to remember.”
“Don’t be a fool,” Master Semplis said, but his words carried no sting. He looked old and frail. He and Kolta exchanged a glance and then he nodded once.
“Don’t linger too long,” Kolta said, and the two masters left.
Dogs chased each other through the carnage. One stopped nearby to chew on a still-smoking corpse. I hurled a stone at it. It growled and bared its teeth but moved on. The stench of burned flesh made me want to puke. At the sound of splintering timber and crashing bricks, I turned to see one of the last plaza buildings collapse into a heap, kicking up dust to merge with the smoke.
A tiny girl came out of nowhere, her face and dress black with soot, but she looked unharmed. She approached and craned her neck to peer up at me. Her face was sticky with tears. The poor thing couldn’t be more than five solars old. She wrapped her arms around my lower body, holding me tight.
She seemed naive as to who I was. Had her parents never told her to fear the Guild, or was I simply less of a threat than all that had happened? I chose to hope for the former. With Fortak gone, I was determined to make sure that everyone learned of what the Guild had done to save the city. I never wanted people to fear and hate us again. This event should unite us, make us stronger.
I peeled the girl from my legs. Her tiny hand reached up and wriggled into mine. How could I refuse such an innocent face? I took her with me while I stumbled through the plaza.
A heap of smoldering timber marked where the stage had stood. I came across an old woman and was convinced it was she that I had pulled from the jostling crowds earlier that day. It seemed so long ago. What were the odds of meeting the same person from the thousands that had filled the plaza? She smiled and raised an unsteady hand, her trembling fingers pointing to the north. The devastation looked the same there as everywhere, and I didn’t understand her gesture. She nodded and pointed again.
I shrugged and limped off in that direction, still leading the girl who kept close to my side. We caught up with a man wearing a scuffed, red leather tunic and black pants, though he had lost his chain mail and weapon. I hesitated, peering at him through the smoky haze. He slouched wearily and didn’t appear a threat, and when I advanced, he raised his left arm straight out from his side and pointed to my right. His gaze never left mine.
What did these people want me to see?
I turned to the right and shuffled around a gruesome heap of bodies that a handful of men had created. I tried to give them a wide berth but one of them stepped in front of me. I pulled the girl close, ready to push her behind me if the man started anything.
“Thank you,” he said.
“What?”
“We saw what you did.”
I stared at his back for a long moment, interrupted by a woman who appeared silently at my side. I jumped. Her hair was badly burned, her arms covered in scratches and burns. Little of her clothing remained and she had wrapped a blanket around herself.
“Is this child yours?” I said.
She smiled at the girl but shook her head. Then she opened her closed fist to reveal crushed feresens petals. In a swift motion she sprinkled the purple flowers over my head and they cascaded over my robes.
“Go,” she whispered and pushed me onward. “Belaya bless you.”
The girl and I continued past the growing pile of corpses. Others had returned to the plaza with shovels and barrows, and that made me proud of my people.
Then I faltered. What cruel trick made me think Ayla sat on the brick pile ahead? I blinked furiously and my pulse raced. The young woman had shocking white hair, and she chatted to a couple of men as if today were any ordinary day. Damn you, Lak, don’t make me hope.
No matter what you believe, always believe in her.
What did that mean, Phyxia? Since accusing Ayla of spying I had always believed in her.
The seated woman turned. Her violet eyes flashed in the sunlight. Oh Gods!
I lurched forward onto my bad leg and pain tore through it. I cried out and stumbled to the cobbles, grazing my knee.
“Ayla!”
Unable to get back up, I dragged my broken body across the ground, the little girl at my side. Ayla leaped up and ran toward me, throwing herself to the ground so that we met on our knees in a crushing embrace. She still smelled of lavender, whereas I smelled of death with a hint of feresens. I put my hands on her cheeks and wanted to look into those exotic eyes that I had grown to love, but she had other plans. She slid her arms from my back to my neck, leaned in, and pressed her lips to mine, kissing me over and over, squealing between each wonderful touch. Then she settled down into a lingering kiss and the world faded. All that existed were our hot lips and tongues, and our hands stroking each other’s skin and hair. Finally, reluctantly, we pulled apart.
I dabbed at a tear trickling down her face. “You’re alive. The lochtars…”
“I don’t know. I don’t remember. I woke covered in cling spirits. And…something else.”
“What do you mean?”
She touched her belly. “The ball of magic you taught me? I feel it growing, but there’s a different energy alongside it. It’s not the same. I can’t describe it.”
“Don’t worry. I can explain it to you, but not now.”
A crowd had gathered around us. Men and women clung to each other and smiled. Hope flashed in their eyes. Ayla helped me to my feet. The girl’s tiny hand slipped into mine once more. Ayla shot me a querying glance, then winked at the girl.
A shudder ran through me. It was if she had been sent to guide me. What an omen for a bright future that a little lost girl had helped a necromancer. I leaned heavily on Ayla and the three of us departed the plaza.
Finally, we left behind the burned and broken streets and moved into the untouched city. It was a relief to return to some semblance of normality among the stores and houses, and I took a deep breath of fresh air.
At the base of the northern river bridge we came across a closed carriage bearing the royal crest. A dozen High Guard soldiers had gathered around it.
“It’s him,” said one. “He is alive.”
Three of them stepped forward, blocking the way with their polearms.
“Come with us,” a gruff voice said, and the man directed us to the carriage.
What now?
The carriage suspension dipped and the Crown Prince stepped out. His face had been newly washed and someone had scrubbed the worst of the soot from his green, brocaded shirt and leggings. A heavy pendant hung from a chain about his neck outside of his shirt, and several of his fingers bore
jeweled rings. The boy looked tired. There was no sign of the steward.
“How can I help…Your Highness?” Disconcerting how one so young could make me nervous.
“You are the necromancer who stood against the Prime Guildmaster?”
My stiff muscles unwound. He wasn’t here to arrest me then. I studied him without appearing to stare. He hadn’t fled to his palace and I admired that. I dipped my head in respect.
“Yes, Your Highness. He is dead.”
He nodded. “Will that fire elemental return?”
“No, Your Highness. Caradan is likely gone too.”
“Then we and the city hold you and your allies as our saviors.”
He removed a sprig of feresens from his buttonhole and handed me the purple flowers. I accepted them, noting their wilted, singed state, even now symbolic of the great city of Malkandrah.
“Your deeds will not go unrewarded,” he said, as if reciting a rehearsed speech. “We think the Prime Guildmaster ruined the reputation of your Guild.”
His deep blue eyes looked to me for a reply. I had nothing intelligent. “Yes, Your Highness.”
“We hope it can be set to rights. The city will hear of your acts today. Your young age inspires us for the future.”
I bowed. “Thank you, Your Highness.”
“You are hurt,” he said as if noticing for the first time. “You must ride with us.”
Was it wise to decline the Crown Prince? Come to think of it, was he now our King? The coronation hadn’t actually taken place and yet undoubtedly the steward was dead. I had thought little of this boy, seen only from afar, a mere shadow behind the steward. I too had great hopes for our future.
I squeezed Ayla’s hand. “Thank you, but we will walk. I want to remind myself how wonderful our city is.”
He dipped his head toward me—the Crown Prince to a necromancer. I returned the gesture and he stepped back into the carriage. The guards let the three of us pass onto the bridge.
I’d never faced all twelve masters alone. Alone in the dim hallway of the Guild, I patted my hair to make sure nothing stood on end. My skin most likely glowed pink after the hours I’d spent scrubbing away the sweat, blood, and soot, and shaving every blade of stubble from my face. I knocked loudly and smoothed my new robe for the tenth time.