Mageborn 05 The Final Redemption

  Destroy us, or we will destroy everything else, was his only reply.

  Chapter 46

  It had been over an hour since they had closed the door leading from the hidden sanctuary to Cameron Castle. Initially there had been a lot of confusion when it was discovered that several key people were missing. An argument had begun over whether or not to hold the door and wait.

  No one had thought to ask George about it, for which he had been grateful, but eventually he had been forced to reveal what he knew, to keep them from searching for the missing Countess and his father.

  Rather than share his information with his family, George told only Ariadne, allowing her to make the decision privately. She had had the door closed immediately, and then she had shared the news he had given her.

  As per his prediction, his sister, Elaine, had reacted badly to the revelation. She might have gone in search of her father, but for the door being closed and barred already.

  Currently neither she, nor her mother, were speaking to George, but he bore it with his customary stoicism.

  Meanwhile, the others had spread out around the house. While it was spacious it was nowhere near large enough to hold several hundred people. Thankfully it wasn’t far up, having been situated in the middle part of a secluded mountain valley, so the temperatures, even in the fall, were moderate.

  Even so, there would soon be a desperate need for housing. Ariadne already had the soldiers gathering firewood and considering their options for building temporary shelters.

  Peter Tucker sat in the cold mountain air behind the secret home that Mordecai and Penny Illeniel had maintained for years. Seeing it had been a revelation to him. The simple fact that they had been able to keep it completely hidden, even from his eyes, troubled him.

  When he had first taken service at Castle Cameron, they had shown him trust and kindness. At the time he had thought it was simply in their nature, but now he knew they had done it in spite of his murderous intent. He had hated the Count di’ Cameron intensely then.

  Over time he had been given greater responsibilities. Lilly had begun to help them care for their children, who, despite his own prejudices, he had come to love. He had told himself that he worked to gain their trust, so that someday he would be in a position to avenge his grandfather, but eventually he had given up on it.

  As his youthful temper had mellowed, so had his memories. His grandfather had been kind, and Peter had always known he would have disapproved of his plan. Without remembering the exact moment, he had at some point become what he pretended to be, a loyal servant, a friend—even family.

  The hidden house in the mountains challenged that somewhat, though. He had thought himself privy to all of their greatest secrets—trusted above all others.

  They knew all along, but they held you close anyway. Why?

  He had once heard someone recite a wise man’s quote, ‘Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.’

  Was that what he was, a closely held enemy?

  He stared at the knife in his lap.

  “Are things that dark?” asked a woman’s voice.

  Glancing back, he was startled by Lady Rose Thornbear’s nearness. He had not heard her steps approaching.

  “No, my lady! Forgive me,” he protested. “I was only thinking. This is not what it might appear.” Lady Rose had hardly spoken to anyone other than her children and her mother-in-law since her husband’s death. Peter was curious as to why she had approached him now.

  “If you have no use for it, then pass it over,” she told him, taking a seat on the stone beside him.

  He was shocked by her statement. Dumbfounded, he moved the blade farther from her, and then he found his voice, “You could not possibly...,” he began.

  Lady Rose shook her head, but didn’t smile. “No, I couldn’t, but my joke was a truthful glimpse of my heart’s despair.”

  Peter’s heart went out to her, forgetting his own turmoil for a moment. “Lady Rose, please believe me when I tell you how much I hate what has happened to you and your family.”

  Her face became a mask, and her emotions seemed to vanish. Peter knew he had said the wrong thing somehow, but he was helpless to understand what it had been.

  Rising to her feet, she gave him a polite expression, “Thank you, Peter. I appreciate your condolences.” Then she started to turn away.

  Unsure of himself, Peter called to her before she could leave, “Lady Rose?”

  She stopped and looked back, “Yes?”

  “Why did you want to talk to me, honestly?” His words were too direct, and he knew if she took offense now, it would have been because he had stepped beyond his place.

  “I thought you were like me, for a moment,” she admitted. “You looked more wretched than anyone else here.”

  Casting his eyes downward, he admitted it, “It may be that you were right,”

  She resumed her perch beside him, almost smiling now. “Misery loves company,” she noted. “Tell me what it is?”

  “The Count and Countess,” he began, and then without fully intending to, he recounted his story. He started with his grandfather, including the story of his early employment and the reason he had taken it. Lady Rose had been the one who originally arranged for him to take service with the Cameron Estate, so it lifted some of his guilt to confess his true reason.

  Throughout his confession Rose listened quietly, a skill that she was known for. She didn’t reveal that she had also known of his true motivations at the time, or her part in Mordecai’s scheme to save the Tucker’s from poverty. She simply listened and accepted.

  He told her everything, including his new doubt in the trust that Penny and Mort had for him, since discovering their greater secret. He stopped short only of telling her about Mordecai’s last request.

  “So what did he want?” she asked, when he mentioned speaking to the Count.

  “He wanted to give me a task,” replied the chamberlain vaguely.

  After a short pause she asked, “Are you going to tell me what it was?”

  “I am not at liberty to say,” he answered, ending his former forthrightness.

  Rose sighed, “Probably another of those shoulder crushing burdens, I imagine. ‘Take care of them!’ No, don’t tell me.”

  He was puzzled by her response.

  “It doesn’t matter what it was,” she said reassuringly, “just the fact of it. That’s what counts.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Peter.

  She gave him her first genuine smile, “Neither do I, but I can tell you a few things about your good Count.”

  Despite himself Peter was enraptured by the thought of Lady Rose sharing her insights. He leaned in, letting his expression convey his interest.

  “Mordecai loves secrets. The man simply can’t help himself. Not when he was alive, and not even after his death. Since I’ve known him, it has been nothing but one after another,” she announced.

  “He has always been a complex man,” said Peter seriously.

  Rose shook her head in disagreement, “No, he’s as simple as they come. Sometimes he was as simple as my own husband. Brilliant, clever, smarter than anyone I’ve ever known in some regards, but Mordecai was simple in his emotions, in his heart.”

  Peter’s brow wrinkled.

  “The secrets were his attempt to make up for it. He would lie and bluff, cheat and steal, all to cover his plans, but his goal was easy to see,” she declared.

  “Steal?!”

  “He picked up a lot of bad habits from Marcus,” said Rose. “But that’s not what’s important.”

  Peter had already lost the point of her story, “What was it?”

  “This house,” she explained in a tone as if it were self-evident. “That and the fact that you just discovered they knew about your plan for revenge all along—secrets!”

  “Alright…”

  “Mordecai would have kept the location of this house from Penny if he could have managed it,” she told him. ??
?In fact, if it were possible, he would have made her think it was actually their apartments in the castle.”

  “That’s insane.”

  “No, that’s Mordecai,” she answered, warming to her subject again. “He loved simply, but the things he encountered, the enemies he made—they made him very cautious. Anything you didn’t know, couldn’t be stolen from your mind and used against him, or more importantly, against his family.”

  “That’s a bit extreme,” suggested Peter.

  Rose clucked her tongue at him. “Think about Walter Prathion. You know his story. Mort was hell bent on making certain he never faced something like that again.”

  “That just reinforces the fact that he never really trusted me,” pointed out Peter.

  Like a logician, Rose circled him with her argument. “No, it merely discounts the fact that these secrets indicated distrust. The fact is that he did trust you. He loved you, in fact.”

  “Where is the reasoning for that?”

  “Are you fond of Matthew?” she asked suddenly, “or what of his daughter, Moira? What does little Conall think of you?”

  Having spent countless hours with them, Peter loved all four of Mordecai’s children. He also knew that they felt the same. “I care deeply about them, and I’m sure they’re very fond of me, of course, but they’re children. They know nothing of guile.”

  “A brave man might put his back to an assassin, or let him carry a knife in his presence, but he would never leave him alone with his children. More so, he would not let his children grow to love and trust such a villain.”

  Peter was struck by the clarity of her insight. He sat still for a moment considering her words.

  Rose started to leave again. “Thank you,” she said.

  “For what?”

  The smile she gave him was sad, but it was less so than before. “For being miserable and for sharing it with me.”

  “Wait,” he protested.

  “Yes?”

  “I still don’t know what to do,” confessed Peter.

  She looked at him wisely, “How should I know?”

  “But you seem to understand everything so well…”

  “Losing my husband has taught me humility. I know less than nothing,” she countered. “I just thought you should make your decision based on the truth rather than your doubts. Mordecai trusts you. He asked you to do something, probably something difficult. It’s your choice whether you do or don’t.”

  “What if it could affect all of us?” asked Peter.

  “Everything involving that man affects all of us. My own grief is too great to worry about it anymore.” With that she withdrew, leaving him alone with his thoughts again.

  Holding the knife up at eye level, Peter stared at the green stone imbedded in its pommel. Do I dare kill the man I’ve served and loved all these years? Will I still have a place here? Penelope would never forgive it.

  He shook his head, as if to knock something loose inside. I’m being selfish. I’m afraid of losing my new family, when I should be thinking of what I can do to help them—what he wants me to do. My personal consequences should be secondary.

  Lifting the blade into the air he held the pommel downward in his fist, toward the stone he sat on. He thought of his grandfather, who would have never approved of his old dream of vengeance, but this was different, this was a mercy.

  ”I’m sorry grandfather,” he said softly, and tensing his arm, he brought the knife down with all the strength he could muster.

  Chapter 47

  Too much time had passed.

  Since our merger, we only had one body now, my old beat up corpse. Brexus/Mal’goroth had transferred almost all of our power to Millicenth and Doron. I was sure that Mal’goroth alone would have kept it, hoping to annihilate the world when he was unmade, but my demon twin seemed to have kept them on the path I had plotted.

  When I died the world would go on.

  Gareth had been given the knowledge to control the Shining Gods, and I trusted that he would do the right thing. He had been the one urging me to rethink my harsh methods all along. The ex-dragon would find a way to store their power, and then he would free them from their unwanted immortality.

  All of this hinged on Peter doing what I had asked, and with each passing minute the hybrid being I was trapped within grew more anxious, more agitated, and angrier.

  At least he didn’t do it as soon as I had asked him to, I thought. If he had followed my original instructions, my existence would have ended shortly after Mal’goroth had stripped me of my power. That would have prevented me from destroying the world at least, but it would have left them with an enraged Mal’goroth to deal with.

  This way was much better—if Peter would just do his part.

  What if he reclaims the power and Peter does it afterward?

  Brexus/Mal’goroth heard my thought, and I could feel his inner smile. There wouldn’t be enough of our world left to bother with in that eventuality.

  I could feel the Dark God’s decision forming, to do just that, when it happened.

  I felt a snapping, as though a string had been under tension and suddenly broken, and then the spellweave that surrounded me began to unravel. I was disconnected, no longer tied to anything, especially my long dead body.

  In my mind’s eye I could see Brexus, or Mal’goroth, I wasn’t sure what to call him anymore. He radiated a sense of amazement and wonder as he began to fray and disintegrate around the edges.

  I loved her as much as you did, came one last thought, and I knew the message came from Brexus.

  He faded from sight, and I drifted in the darkness. My soul was free at last, and the void called. I felt no fear, for I had been here once before, with Walter. At that time I had been struggling desperately to pull him back from the final crossing, to keep him anchored until I could heal his body.

  My body was far too long dead for something like that. Even if there had been someone to catch me. This was better.

  I couldn’t guess what lay before me, but I suspected that our world lay atop another. After learning to hear the voice of death, I had later theorized that it was another form of aythar, simply with a reversed time dimension. The other world would have a negative entropy, counterbalancing our own. Death there might be a rebirth here.

  Or I could be completely mistaken. There was no way to get a glimpse beyond the veil, even though I had been closer than most. It was a one way trip.

  It made sense mathematically though, I told myself, grinning mentally. Even on the way to the great beyond, I couldn’t stop pondering wild ideas.

  A rushing sound approached, and I knew it was the boundary—the final crossing. My mind presented it to me as a waterfall, but I knew at a deeper level that it had no physical form.

  Mordecai!

  The shout came from someone else. It felt familiar.

  Mordecai!

  It was Walter. Like a golden lamp, he lit the darkness around him, shining like some kindly spirit. He was a beacon and a comfort to me. I tried to move toward him, but it was impossible to do. I had no strength left.

  I fought to stay still, and he grew closer, pushing himself to meet me, since I couldn’t reach him.

  You shouldn’t be here, I told him. You know what this is.

  His light enveloped me, pushing back the cold emptiness.

  You won’t be able to make it back, I warned, although it was already too late. It’s too hard, you aren’t strong enough.

  Shut up, was his only reply.

  He held onto me with everything he had, and then we began to move, drawn on what seemed to be a golden rope, back toward the world I had thought lost for good. As we got closer, my perception sharpened, and I realized it was Millicenth that was helping him, feeding him a steady stream of aythar to bolster his strength and lead him back.

  I don’t want to go back to that body, I told him, remembering my corpse. Let me die instead.

  Don’t worry. Your body is completely impossible, he ex
plained. Mine will have to suffice.

  I liked the sound of that even less. I had been through the shared body situation for far too long. I was tired of having a roommate. Plus, Walter was really old.

  I don’t want to be a decrepit old man! I protested. What will Penny think of me?

  I have a wife too, you know, he reminded me.

  So which one would we be married to? Both? I asked. Mentally I imagined being with Walter’s wife, Rebecca. She wasn’t an ugly woman by far, but…

  Really? I bring you back from the brink, and the first thing you do is start fantasizing about my marriage bed?! Have you no shame?

  In truth I hadn’t been thinking positively about it, but I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. Instead I took the misunderstanding further. And you wouldn’t enjoy a chance to roll around with Penny?! I accused.

  Wherever Walter’s physical face was, I knew it had to be turning red now. The man had always been easily embarrassed. I could sense him floundering emotionally. He nearly lost his hold on me for a moment, which would have sent me drifting back into the void.

  You really are as stupid as the Countess claims! he rebuked me.

  Just wait ‘til we’ve been stuck together inside your bald skull for a year, I threatened, you’ll start to wonder what you ever needed all those extra brains for after all.

  Oh. His thought seemed strangely subdued, as if he had just realized something.

  Taking a more serious tack I addressed him again, I appreciate this, Walter. I know how hard it was to go where you did, to find me, but this isn’t a good idea. Let me go.

  Another mind intruded then. Gareth Gaelyn’s words echoed around us, as if he were yelling across a great divide. I’m ready.

  Time to go, Walter told me. I’m tired of having you in here already. With that he released me, and began to push me away.

  Some friend he was.

  Another will was at work beside him, pulling in tandem with his shoves, and together they forced me into another body, one that felt younger, more vital. The heart was beating powerfully, thrumming around me and I began to settle in almost automatically.

  Gareth was there with me, but his mind began to retract almost as soon as I had joined him. Sudden anxiety seized me as I wondered if he were committing suicide. I could tell already, the body I occupied now was his, right down to the red hair on its chin.