XVIII

 

Cabe

 

It was Gwendolyn who finally broke the silence, although she did so, Nathan understood, with great trepidation. The mage had not been the most pleasant of companions and while under the circumstance he had every right, he had still been unfair to her. She, too, had cared deeply about Dayn.

“I thought...I thought your wife was buried in Mito Pica.”

“Her tomb is in Mito Pica,” Nathan answered in measured tones, painfully reliving that moment. “For her mother’s sake. After she passed, I had Asrilla taken from there.”

“Did anyone know that? Your sons, even?”

Nathan let his dour expression answer for him. He knelt down near the barely visible mound overlooking the shoreline just north of Irillian. Born to a landlocked kingdom deep in the midst of the continent, Asrilla had always found the sea fascinating. When they had been newly-married, the pair had visited Irillian and had afterward returned each year on their anniversary.

There was no great headstone, no magnificent gate. Nothing to mark that the bride of the most powerful human spellcaster in all the land was buried there. Indeed, most would have not even noticed there was a grave at all.

It was exactly the way Asrilla had always wanted it. She had even made Nathan promise to do just this. Married to a wizard, Asrilla had always expected that he would outlive her. Neither had known that their time together would be as brief as it had turned out to be, though.

And now...and now Nathan had been forced to do the unthinkable. Bury one of their children beside her.

I’m sorry, Asrilla...they would’ve been better off with you raising them, not me. What made it all the more horrible for Nathan was knowing that their eldest had perished at the hands of their youngest. Asrilla had been so thrilled when she had discovered her second pregnancy. She had envisioned her sons standing side-by-side throughout their lives.

More likely, they’ll soon be buried side-by-side, the veteran wizard concluded. Nathan could not let Azran escape punishment, but he feared that his younger son would not simply let himself be jailed somewhere with his abilities nullified. In truth, Nathan was not even certain if he could do that much, especially with the rebellion in such a fragile state.

Gwendolyn had thought that they would at least place flowers on the graves, but Nathan wanted no one noticing the location. To him, this was sacred ground.

“What will you do with him?”

He continued to stare at the two faint mounds. “Azran? I honestly don’t know. For Asrilla’s sake, I’d like to let him live. For everyone else’s, it’s probably best if I don’t.”

“If I can help in any way...”

With a sigh, Nathan finally stood. “I appreciate that. I really do. What you can do most is help me make certain I choose wisely when I confront him.”

The enchantress frowned. “Must it come to that?”

He envisioned Dayn’s trusting face and thought once more how shocked the elder brother must have been when Azran drove the sword into him. “Azran’s left no other way out. He’s brought this on ---”

Nathan! Nathan!

Basil’s voice boomed in his head. The potent mix of rage and concern in the other wizard’s voice shook Nathan. His first thought was that Azran had committed some new foul act. What’s happened, Basil?

Just...just follow my link...

Frowning, Nathan took Gwendolyn’s hand and focused. The pair vanished from the tranquil hill ---

--- and materialized in yet another great nightmare.

Not a sound escaped either Nathan or the enchantress as they separated. Nathan stepped through the cavern, realizing with horror that this had all taken place while he had been saying farewell to his son. The irony was not lost on him. Had he been here, he might have been able to do something...

“No, Nathan. You would have changed nothing. You would have died here along with the rest and with you would have gone all hope.”

He turned not to find Basil, but rather Yalak. Yalak, whose eyes bore a grief that made Nathan’s seem to pale in comparison.

“You didn’t foresee this,” Nathan murmured. “You missed this. Tell me you missed this.”

Yalak looked away for a moment. “There are advantages and disadvantages to my abilities. I’ve come of late to curse them more and more.”

It was not the answer Nathan sought, but before he could press Yalak, the other mage suddenly knelt beside one of the bodies. The elder Bedlam looked down and realized that he stood but inches from Solomon Rhine. The dead wizard still bore an expression of defiance despite the gaping hole in his torso.

“They took their dead, but you know which of them was responsible for this,” Yalak commented.

“Lord Brown.”

“Lord Brown. I have foreseen his grand plans. I have foreseen a realm where he leads the call to have all humans either exterminated or bred into blindly-obedient dogs like those that already serve him.”

“And what about his army at this moment? Are they still camped in his caverns? What’s his intention there?”

The other wizard straightened. “Truly, Nathan, does it matter? Is not their fate already sealed, if not by other events than by this damnable act?”

Nathan had already been thinking about the spell that the Dragon Masters had been setting place around the Adajian Fields. He no longer felt any guilt about what he intended. “You’re right. I only wish we’d known before this. I only wish that I ---”

“We all hesitated to take the final step even though everything was ready. We all hoped that for some reason, we wouldn’t have to do as we planned...but we must.”

“Then, let’s be done with it.” Nathan looked around. Besides Gwendolyn, Yalak, and Basil, he saw Tyr and Adam. Barely a second later, Tragaro and Sssorak materialized. Tragaro’s grim countenance indicated that he had already been informed as to the catastrophe. Sssorak, meanwhile, eyed the dead with curiosity.

For once, Nathan decided not to say anything about the drake. “Is this all of us? Besides Samir in Penacles, that is? Is this it?”

“This is all, Nathan,” Yalak replied somberly.

As the other mage answered, it suddenly occurred to Nathan that Yalak stood alone. “Salicia! Not ---”

“She is gone, Nathan.” The balding wizard flatly stated, his eyes demanding that his friend ask no more.

Gwendolyn touched Yalak on the shoulder. He ignored both her and the sympathetic expressions he received from the others, even the usually indifferent Tragaro.

“This is the end, then,” Basil muttered. “With one swift blow, the drake lords triumph. We’ve lost this infernal struggle!”

“Not quite,” Nathan replied. “So long as Penacles stands against the Dragon Kings, the rebellion continues. What we planned will still make a difference, if only for the Gryphon’s followers ---”

“Talk, talk, talk!” Tragaro snarled. “Do we go and finish the task or keep blabbering about it? Everyone else is dead now! Dead!” He shook. His gaze glanced to his left, where Nathan saw Micaya still lay dead in her lupine form.

We’ve all lost someone, the elder Bedlam realized. He had never considered that Tragaro had had any feelings for anyone but himself. The unique lives of spellcasters often created unusual pairings.

“He’s right, Nathan,” Basil rumbled. “We’ve got nothing else.”

Nathan had already begun calculating. “We need to split in two to cover everything. Yalak, you, Basil, and Tragaro will come with me.” He chose Tragaro in part to keep an eye on him. “The rest, you follow Tyr’s lead.”

Gwendolyn opened her mouth to protest the choices, but Nathan shook his head. She knew that he was sending her with the group that would be situated in the safer area --- if such truly existed. Nathan and his party would have to finish their spellwork near where they risked detection by the Brown Dragon.

Nathan studied his surviving comrades. He blamed himself for all the deaths, all the failures. Nathan prayed that this plan would make some slight amends.

“We strike on my signal,” he reminded the rest. “And we strike with as much mercy as they gave us...”

 

 

The strain on Hadrea was proving too much. Try as she might, she could not induce labor. Elven women could choose the time and place of their children’s birth once a certain period passed, but even though she had quickly prepared herself and even though Cabe was clearly ready to be born, he would not come just yet.

And with each passing moment, Hadrea grew weaker while Melenea grew stronger.

Grew stronger on the infant’s life essence.

Hadrea had hoped that by forcing Cabe out earlier, she would leave the dark spirit without enough power to complete her plan. Hadeen’s niece had no concern for her own life. So long as she was able to contain Melenea, that was all that mattered.

Hadeen tended to her as if he was her parent. He had already replaced the previous flower, which was one reason Hadrea still had some command of the situation. Unfortunately, it was the last of his supply. Now, he was forced to give her quickly-concocted potions designed to enhance her health.

“The master must know!” Wiln argued. “I am sworn to him ---”

“And to me!” Hadrea all but shouted. “You promised ---” She broke off as a wave of agony washed over her. Part of it, she knew, was from the strain she put herself through, but some of it was also Melenea seeking to reestablish domination.

You struggle in vain, my sweet thing, the voice purred. Each moment, the child makes me stronger...

“Uncle!” Hadrea cried. “You must help me do this now!”

“You’ll die if we do it as you want.” Still, he nodded and quickly returned to the cabinet. With a grimmer and grimmer expression, he began mixing.

Hadrea tried to concentrate on Cabe, thinking how even though he would have to grow up without her, at least he would grow up. She would live through him and, if possible, guide him from beyond ---

Melenea laughed.

Hadrea felt her body suddenly reject her commands.

“Master Hadeen!” Wiln called, drawing his dagger at the same time.

Her uncle whirled around, the potion in his hand only half-completed. Simultaneously, Wiln readied the dagger for a toss. He would do what he felt he must and, at the moment, Hadrea could not blame him.

“Little fool...” Hadrea’s mouth said.

A bolt of energy struck Wiln full in the chest. He went flying across the room. Hadeen set the potion down and leapt for Hadrea.

“Such concern! How sweet! How futile...” Melenea murmured through her.

The boards making up the floor suddenly tore free, then wrapped around Hadeen’s lower half. He stumbled, then fell.

Hadrea rose above the bed. She felt a tingle. Her arms paled and grew longer, slimmer. The half-elf felt her hair tighten and shrink. An uncomfortable twitching covered her face.

Even without seeing all that was happening, Hadrea knew that she was literally becoming Melenea.

Wiln forced himself to his feet. He immediately threw the dagger.

“For shame, for shame,” Melenea reprimanded.

The blade peeled apart, then peeled apart again. It continued to separate, creating more than a score of identical daggers.

Hadrea’s hand gestured...and the daggers turned on Wiln.

“No!” Hadaryn’s daughter managed.

“Yes...” countered the dread spirit, seizing control of her mouth again.

Wiln grabbed for the nearest protection he could find, a small chair. He swung it back and forth in front of him, trying to block as many of the daggers as he could.

But when the first knife reached the chair...it went through without pause.

Wiln had only a moment to stare wide-eyed before the blade struck him near the shoulder. Where the dagger had proven but a ghost against the chair, now it regained solidity.

He succeeded in keeping hold of the chair despite the wound. Unfortunately, the two daggers that followed repeated the success of the first. With the chair no impediment, Wiln became an easy target. One dagger hit his left arm, the other the right leg.

The wounds forced him down on one knee. Wiln tried to roll to the side, but three more blades caught him in the other leg, the lower right side, and on the edge of the neck.

Tears streamed down Hadrea’s face even as laughter escaped her lips. Wiln should have already been dead, but Melenea was showing her control over all of them by killing him in stages.

Then, a hand abruptly rose up in front of her. Hadeen’s hand. He placed his fingertips against her forehead.

“Join with me, Hadrea! Take strength from me!”

She felt a surge of power flow from him into her. Her heart quickened with hope. Hadrea had forgotten that her uncle wielded the unique powers of an elemental. She doubted that Melenea had confronted such a form of magic, the talent even rare among elves.

Indeed, the malevolent spirit immediately receded. Hadrea doubted that her uncle had actually fought off Melenea, but had at least disoriented her for the moment.

Hadrea knew that she had to finish things now.

With her uncle’s strength added to her own, she pushed. This time, Hadrea felt movement. Encouraged, the female half-elf threw her full efforts into giving birth.

The baby started to come.

No...he is mine!

Every fiber of Hadrea’s being burned as if someone had literally set her on fire. She shrieked, startling her uncle. He instinctively removed his hand ---

Which was exactly what the Vraad spirit desired.

Melenea’s sinister presence nearly overwhelmed Hadrea. The Vraad pushed her to the edge, but somehow Hadrea just barely held on.

And all the while, she fought to continue the birth. Slowly --- much too slowly --- her son emerged.

No! Mine! Mine!

Hadrea screamed again. She felt her heart stop, then start, and knew that Melenea was responsible. The ghost was doing everything she could to break the half-elf’s will short of actually killing her. The Vraad could not risk Hadrea dying on her. Melenea needed the body alive, so that she could take it as her own.

She belatedly realized someone was shouting at her. Blinking away tears from pain, Hadrea beheld what at first she thought her uncle. After a moment, though, she realized that the hair and clothes were different.

“F-Father?”

“Hadrea! Listen to me! You must give up the child’s life! It is your only hope!”

When he had arrived, she did not know. What mattered, though, was that if she followed his suggestion, Cabe would die. It might stop Melenea’s plans, but it would also mean the loss of her son.

“No...no, Father...”

“Hadrea! This spawn is not worth your life! You will die!”

She no longer cared about herself. Only Cabe mattered. She just had to push a little more. Just a little more...

No...

“Ungh!” Hadrea nearly lost control. With one last effort, she squeezed.

The baby slid free.

“Move aside, Hadaryn!” her uncle called from what seemed to her so very far away. “Let me take the boy!”

“Leave that damned abomination! Look at her! She’s as white as ivory!”

“C-Cabe!” she blurted. “Please! Take care of Cabe...”

No! I will have him! I will have him!

Hadrea felt her strength failing. She grabbed at the air, not at first understanding why she did. Finally, Hadrea remembered that she had been holding something important. A flower.

The flower.

“Here, Hadrea!” Hadeen pressed an object into her palm. She recognized it as a stem. Her fingers curled around it.

He will be mine! Melenea insisted. However, now she sounded farther away than the others. Mine...

The Vraad faded away...at least for the time being.

It took effort for Hadrea to breathe. She fought to speak, but failed.

“Hadrea! Hadrea!” came her father’s voice.

“She’s dying, Hadaryn. The strain of fighting off that creature while giving birth was too much for her. I’m sorry.”

To Hadrea’s surprise, her uncle’s declaration did not horrify her. Her only fear was that there was still a great chance that Melenea could seize mastery of her body just before the moment of death, use it to take Cabe, and finish her monstrous plan.

With the power of the rose to support her, Hadrea built a mental wall between her and Melenea.

“Hadrea,” Hadeen whispered at that moment. “Hadrea...let me help again...”

She nearly agreed, but then felt Melenea’s anticipation stir. The Vraad now wanted her uncle to use his elemental abilities. Hadrea could only assume that the spirit had found some manner by which to usurp what Hadeen offered.

“No...no, Uncle...that would only be what she wants now...”

He leaned over her. “Hadrea...you must...”

“No...my son...where’s Cabe?”

“Never mind. Listen ---”

The fact that he did not answer her frightened Hadrea. “Where is he?”

“Hadrea ---”

She trembled. “Uncle! Did Father take him?”

“No...no...” Hadeen took a deep breath. “Cabe is here, in my arms.” He shifted so that she could see the bundle he carried.

At first, Hadrea felt relief, but then she realized that the baby made neither a sound nor a movement.

“No...Uncle...what’s wrong with him? What’s wrong?”

Hadeen said nothing, but Hadrea read the truth in his eyes.

Not only was she dying...but so was the son she had fought so hard to save.