Heartrender, p.20
Heartrender, page 20
Silas spun back to Damien. Panting, Damien lay on his side, clutching his hand to his bleeding chest.
“You know,” he wheezed, “I did think I was getting off too easy when I escaped with Claire.”
“No, Damien, it’s going to be okay. You’re going to get through this,” Silas said, desperately applying pressure to the wound.
Then, an idea dawned on him. Silas quickly stripped off the orange cloak and laid it over Damien. A chill filled with emptiness and longing barreled into Silas’s chest. The power of those who loved him vanished from him, but he didn’t care. Damien didn’t deserve to die. Not like this.
Damien gently shook his head. “I don’t think so, hero. But thank you for giving me another chance.”
Silas reached out to his friend when a spiral of wind soared around him, whisking Silas’s body up.
“No,” Silas cried, trying to break free of the raging tornado. This was the second time he had to leave Damien to fend for himself. He couldn’t do it again.
But as hard as he tried, the wind wouldn’t relent. Silas hurdled through the air, his eyes locked onto Damien’s shivering form. Soon, the glow of the orange cloak faded out of sight. And Silas stood alone, back on the marbled floor of his destroyed kingdom.
At his sudden return, a group of erica shrieked and curled into balls. Rubbing his forehead, Silas gazed at the small creatures. Shile was the first to unroll and bounced around Silas, squeaking.
Groaning, Silas sat up and poked the large bump protruding from his head. What happened to Damien? Was he still alive? Had the cloak protected him?
Silas jumped up, barely missing the animal still jumping by his feet. Actually, there were several erica prancing around his legs.
“What is it, Shile?” he asked.
Shile squeaked a few times more before saying, “The seed, Master Silas, the seed!”
The erica scurried to Silas’s knee and pointed to his pocket. Twirling from his pants’ pocket was the budding seed of the argenti.
“Quickly, Master Silas!” Shile cried, racing in circles. “Plant the seed! Plant the seed!”
“Plant the seed!” the other erica cried.
Silas gently pulled the small plant from his pocket, having forgotten about it.
“All right, all right,” Silas said to the excited creatures.
He slumped toward the ashes of the dead argenti, the exhaustion from the two battles catching up with him. Damien’s trembling form burned into his mind. He had to find him somehow. Silas’s limbs felt like boulders as he forced them to move. Though, if he were being honest, all he really wanted to do was lie down and sleep.
Silas cautiously scooped a hole in the ashes, placed the budding seed in the soil and covered it. Cupping his hands, he dipped them into the sparkling river beside the tree and sprinkled the newly planted seed with the moisture.
Silas paused at the silence around him. As he glanced over his shoulder, the ericas’ beady black eyes stared at him. Beyond their curious gazes, Silas noticed the burnt wood and debris covering everything.
The souls of the people of Lignum returned to his thoughts. There were so many of them. Had any person been spared when Ophidian attacked? Silas rubbed his neck and remembered he hadn’t been the only child saved. Brand, Gaius, and a slew of other children were spared because of their parents’ sacrifices.
Silas placed his hand on his cheek where his mother had reached out. He still felt her cool touch. How would she have handled Ophidian? Silas shook his head, still unable to believe he and Damien had saved all those souls from the Beast.
“It’s amazing, the impact one person can have, isn’t it?”
Silas snapped out of his thoughts and took a step back in surprise as a glowing figure appeared beside him.
“Who are you?” Silas asked the figure, too tired to fight. “Why did you give me a second chance?”
The light around the figure dimmed. “My friend, do you not remember me?”
Silas’s eyes widened as Eman stood before him. An eruption of squeaks sounded as the ericas bowed before the heartmender.
Silas gawked, unable to believe who he was seeing. “Eman, what are you doing here?”
Eman smiled. Though he bore the same physical attributes as before, there was something different about him. His skin glowed, his eyes bright. As if a burning fire had finally been unleashed.
“Come,” he commanded, gliding toward the throne room. “There is much work to be done.”
Without any further questions, Silas followed Eman. As soon as they entered the throne room, Eman waved his hand, and a great river of light poured from his large palm, rushing through the hall. It was bright, reflecting against itself. When the light dissolved, Silas gasped.
The dead wood was gone, the ashes dissolved. All remnants of destruction had been washed away with the wave of light. What remained was a glittering throne room meant for a king.
Sturdy bronzed trees lined the room, each one shining as the sparkling water of the stream glittered below. The once charred ground was now bright-white, free of any blemish.
Silas craned his neck in awe of the clear leaves donning the bronzed branches. A bright-blue sky bled through the translucent leaves, lighting the wonders of the royal hall.
Eman turned to Silas. “A great king must be able to lead but also know when to follow. You showed this by following Damien’s lead in Barracks. You realized you needed his help in freeing trapped souls. Because of your humility, many were saved.”
“But I didn’t save them all,” Silas said, casting his gaze at the shined floor.
Not all of the people from Barracks had been saved. And, even though they had freed the trapped souls, what would stop Ophidian from harvesting more?
“There are some that have fixed paths that cannot be changed. You saved the ones that had a chance to survive,” Eman explained. “Don’t worry, I provided comfort to those who could not be saved.”
Silas nodded but kept his eyes down, unable to ease his lingering guilt.
“Because you have triumphed, the threads of time have been altered, and all the lives spared in Barracks are living again. But Ophidian’s evil is still choking Decim. Though you weakened him, his darkness still reigns in the Twelve Lands. I believe his time has gone on long enough, don’t you agree?” Eman strode toward the thrones.
Silas’s argenti had grown. Instead of the small twig and leaf it had previously been, it had grown into a thin, young tree. Multiple silver branches stretched from its trunk, bearing shimmering golden leaves.
Extending his hand, Eman stroked the tree. The bark rippled as creaks resounded from the wood. Immediately, the argenti stretched in height and width. Its silver bark twinkled against the light beaming down. With each lengthening branch, more golden leaves grew.
“Master Eman.” Shile’s shaky squeak came from behind. “We never expected to see you.”
Silas and Eman turned to see the group of erica huddled together, staring in awe.
Reaching down, Eman gathered the erica in his palm. “You and your kind have stayed loyal to Lignum and the Rexus. For that, you will have a great reward.” A small golden door, the perfect size for an erica, appeared. Eman released Shile to the ground. “Go. Seek shelter in the place I have created for you. The times ahead are not meant for creatures so small.”
The erica filed through the open golden door, squeaking words of thanks as they disappeared. Within a few moments, all had gone except for one.
“What’s the matter, Shile?” Silas asked.
The small erica looked down at his clawed feet. “I know I can’t fight Ophidian. But I would like to help if I can.”
Eman nodded. “That’s quite a noble request.” Reaching up, he plucked a golden leaf from the fully grown argenti and passed it to Shile. The small creature held it with both paws, the leaf hiding his small body. “When I call, bring this with you. Until then, join your own.”
Squeaking with delight, the erica nodded, hugging the leaf around his torso. Shile darted toward the door but stopped. Placing the leaf down, he scurried back to Silas. “When you are king, I will be happy to serve you.”
Silas knelt down in front of the creature. “If you choose to return, you will not be a servant, but my friend.”
The small erica smiled and wrapped its short arms around Silas’s foot. “I would be honored.”
“Go, Shile,” Eman commanded. “Time is running out.”
Shile squeaked, grabbed the golden leaf and disappeared through the door. As soon as his clawed toes darted over the threshold, the door vanished.
A brief wave of sadness washed over Silas as he watched the creature disappear. But he knew Eman was right. Standing, Silas turned to the heartmender. “What’s the next test?”
Eman raised his brows. “How do you know it hasn’t already begun?”
Silas glanced around. He was still in Lignum. “Has it?”
Eman faced him. “What would be the next thing to do, Rexus?”
Silas studied the throne room again. It was fully restored, but what about the rest of Lignum?
“Well?” Eman questioned.
“My people deserve for their home to be restored and those who are suffering need a place of refuge,” Silas answered. “If I could do anything, it would be that.”
Eman bowed. “Very well.”
With his palms outstretched to the ashen kingdom, a surge of power released from Eman’s hands. Just like the throne room, a giant wave of light washed over Lignum. Everywhere it touched, life returned. Every piece of dead wood revived; every charred branch renewed.
Once the light had completed its transformation, Eman said, “Anything else?”
Silas’s lips parted at the vibrant realm before him. Was he really worthy to rule over it?
“I don’t know what state my body is in, or if I have one left,” Silas confessed. Since his tests began, he had a suspicion these battles were taking place in his mind. “But I need to finish what I started when I challenged Ophidian.”
Eman nodded, a fire igniting in his dark eyes. Reaching out his arms, Eman turned his palms to face the sky. Sparkling light formed above them until a golden helmet appeared in his hands.
Holding it out to Silas, Eman said, “Your armor is now complete. It is time for our Final Battle.”
CHAPTER 26
ADDIE
Flakes of herbs scattered the oak table as the young Magister hastily sprinkled leaves and oils into his mortar. As he smashed the ingredients together, his wooden hut shook with vigor.
“What’s happening?” I cried, trying to find something to hold onto. “What did you do?”
“Nothing!” Nemrac yelled, trying to catch bottles of oils tumbling off the shelves.
After a moment, the quaking stopped, and a powerful aura raced through my heart. I sucked in a breath. I didn’t know how, but it felt like Silas’s power. Hadn’t Alesig said Silas was weakening Ophidian?
Nemrac righted his ingredients on the shelves before turning back to the mortar. He muttered to himself in a different tongue as he worked. Then, every so often, he would pause, stare at the ceiling, and mutter some more. He was definitely odd.
Fisting my alme, I strode to Lyle’s crouched, crystallized body. The light from the roaring hearth flickered over his translucent skin. I placed my hand on his head, wishing, pleading, he would be okay.
Sighing, I ran my fingers through my hair and stepped outside. A handful of thatched huts greeted me, but no other people appeared. Where were the rest of the villagers?
A tree branch snapped behind me, and I immediately spun, whipping my alme.
Romen stalked from behind Nemrac’s hut, his posture stiff, muscles rigid.
Relief relaxed my heart as I approached him with a smile. “Romen, did you feel that earthquake? I think it was Silas. Do you have any way of knowing what he did?” Romen didn’t return my smile and stayed focused on the piece of wood he was whittling. I frowned and placed my hands on my hips. “What’s going on?” Irritation flared in my chest when he didn’t answer. “Please, just talk. I can’t handle Nemrac’s mumblings and your broody face any longer.”
“I failed,” he barked, his golden eyes flashing as he squared his shoulders.
I placed my hands on my hips. “When?”
Romen growled at me before throwing down the piece of wood. He fiddled with the clavum on his belt, refusing to meet my gaze.
“Romen!” I roared, causing the trees around us to sway. Romen jerked his head up in surprise. I rubbed my forehead, exhausted. “Please, just tell me what’s going on.”
“I was sent by Eman to protect you, whatever the costs. Up until we reached the Lomen River, I had fulfilled that mission with every fiber of my being. But I was swayed by the temptation of the Beast. I drank the cursed water when I knew I shouldn’t.” He knelt, bowing his head until it reached the grass. “I understand if you wish for me to no longer accompany you.”
I took a step back, not knowing what to say. Where had the playfully annoyed Romen gone?
“I think you’re being a little hard on yourself,” I said softly. “Luckily, Nemrac came and saved you.”
“Exactly,” Romen replied, irritation threading through his words as he sat up. “What if he hadn’t? My stupidity would have put you in harm’s way.” He balled his hand into a fist. “My whole reason for this journey would be obsolete.”
I sat down in front of him. “I have yet to meet one person who hasn’t been swayed by Ophidian’s darkness.”
Romen glanced up at me, his golden eyes swirling with guilt. I scooted next to him, remembering the same look in James’s eyes when Eman first introduced us. James had left Nana, which left him riddled with guilt. Lyle held the same look in Ophidian’s Realm, his regrets tied to his insatiable thirst for knowledge. And I was the same when I returned to Barracks the first time. But Eman accepted all of us regardless. Loved us all regardless and helped us through our past choices.
“Well, Eman wasn’t swayed,” I added, and Romen’s lips twitched. “What matters is that Nemrac did come, and you were healed.” I faced the hut, worry weighing my chest. “I can’t say the same for Lyle though.”
Romen nodded, leaning back to sit on the lush ground.
“There, in the water, I saw my partner again,” Romen muttered, plucking a few blades of grass before rolling them between his fingers. “It’s been years since I’ve seen her.”
I perked up. When he didn’t continue, I probed, “What happened to her?”
He grasped the clavum again, his eyes distant. “I got careless and lost her.”
“Was she a timeweaver too?”
Romen pulled out his pipe. I already had my hand glowing and ready. He snorted and placed the pipe in the light before sucking in a deep breath. “I should’ve known to keep my personal life to myself.”
I shut my mouth in embarrassment before I saw the grin coming to his lips. A thin stream of sparkling yellow smoke drifted from his lips.
“Well?” I asked.
Romen chuckled, returning to his old self. “Yes, she was a weaver, as well. One of the best.”
I was ready with more questions when the wooden door of Nemrac’s home slammed open.
“I’ve figured out how to save him,” the young Magister cried before rushing back inside.
Without giving Romen another glance, I jumped up and hurried into the hut. Nemrac hovered over Lyle’s crouched body, holding the stone mortar high above Lyle’s crystallized head. After whispering a few words, the Magister carefully tilted the mortar, allowing a thin, clear liquid to dribble over the crystal covering Lyle. The crystal sizzled as white smoke seeped from Lyle’s limbs. Once Lyle was completely covered, the liquid formed a clear gloss, hardening over the rose-colored crystal.
Clearing his throat, Nemrac brought out his circular blade, took a breath, and slashed the chakram down the side of Lyle’s body.
“What are you doing?” I gasped and darted forward before Romen grabbed my arm.
“Wait,” he said. “Watch.”
I directed my gaze to Lyle. Tiny fissures sprouted from the incision, spreading across the crystal. With a look of satisfaction, Nemrac tapped one of the cuts before the crystal burst into pieces.
Spinning away, I shielded my eyes from the flying chunks of crystal.
“My legs are numb,” Lyle whined as he unrolled from his crouched position, spreading his limbs like a star.
“Lyle!” I cried, running over to him. “Are you okay?”
“Addie,” he said with a tired smile before it dropped. “I fell for it, didn’t I?”
I nodded and he cursed under his breath.
“Here,” Nemrac said, handing me a thick fur blanket. “Wrap him in that and keep him next to the fire. The crystal will have cooled his body and heart. We must make sure that we bring his temperature back to normal.”
“Thank you, Nemrac,” I said before taking the blanket and wrapping it snugly around Lyle. His breathing had slowed, his chest moving deeply.
“Is he asleep?” I asked, turning to Nemrac. “Is that normal?”
Nemrac nodded. “The Vomic Liqua, or cursed water, usually enters someone’s body and works from the inside out. I’ve never seen it work in reverse.” Nemrac shuffled to a shelf holding potted herbs. “Once I started thinking reversed, I figured out what to do.”
I raised my brows. Thinking reversed? “I appreciate your help, Nemrac.”
Nemrac gave a graceful bow. “Of course. It’s what Baba would’ve wanted.”
“Nemrac,” Romen said suddenly, taking a step forward. “What happened to Magister Pecun?”
Misery fell upon the young Magister’s face. Coughing, he spun around and focused on pruning the herbs. “Ophidian came here, wanting Baba, my father, to force a heart to bend to the Beast’s will, but Baba refused.” The boy blinked, tears welling in his eyes. “Ophidian was going to capture Baba and torture him until he would help.” Nemrac gripped the circular blade. “Baba would rather take his own life than give up Piet’s secrets to Ophidian. Unfortunately, Ophidian still killed him in the end.”
