Winchester Stone
There might be no saving him. No. I had to remove the word might. There could be no saving the king, for this deadly dark virus, whatever it was, had already claimed his heart.
I could not stop working on him, however.
To stop would be to give up, would be to give in, and would be to hand my brother everything he had ever worked for.
I had never imagined Bram would go after his own liege. But I had forgotten who Bram ultimately was. He climbed to the top. When he reached it, only to find a glass ceiling there, he would kick it in and move beyond.
I grasped the crimson soul crystal. It spoke to me, deep inside.
It knew what I was. It wanted to help me shine. But I had to tamp down on its desire, had to control myself, for I had never been in a more precarious position than this. I was surrounded by wizards and Bram, no less. Release even a little of my dead magic, and it would all be over.
Bram… Bram had done this. Not just to kill the king – to attempt to reveal me at the same time. I was most certain of that fact as I slid my gaze to the side and stared at him again.
He simply stood there, waiting. He’d know I couldn’t save the king. Any practitioner or non-practitioner with sufficient knowledge would recognize that the exact blue hue the king’s lips had turned was one indicating imminent death and not recovery.
I had to try anyway.
I approached the king again, clutching the soul crystal harder.
The king looked up at me. His gaze was hooded. It was the first time he’d made eye contact. He couldn’t speak. His lips were parched. I imagined it felt as if his throat had been stamped on by a thousand elephants. A weak man would not be able to communicate through that pain. But the king, despite everything he’d failed to do for this kingdom, perhaps had a grain of courage in him, after all.
He stared straight at me.
Then his gaze darted toward Bram.
Was this a deathbed admission of who’d killed him, then? But his gaze didn’t linger. It darted toward the prince. And that’s when a single shimmering tear trickled from the king’s left eye.
“Act faster,” one of the advisors said. It was an automatic move, the tone you might use if you were in a hurry and you needed to spur your horse on to greater speeds. It did not, however, belie any true compassion.
Perhaps he was in on this, too. I don’t imagine that Bram would’ve been able to get this far without others’ assistance.
From now on, everything I did would be performative, for the king took a rattling breath, confirming he was close to death.
“There must be something you can do, Winchester. There’s no other wizard like you,” Arnold, the head wizard, stammered.
I looked at him. He looked at me. His words were also performative. He knew exactly what I did. The king was already lost.
“If you cannot save his life, step aside so that I may clutch my father’s hand one last time,” Prince Lau said.
“He hasn’t even tried yet,” Bram began.
He kept staring at my hands as I clutched the soul crystal. He knew, just knew that statistically, the longer I held onto it, the more likely it would be that I would make a mistake and reveal my power.
I had assumed that Bram was controlling the prince. Yet Bram didn’t seem to be capable of stopping the prince as he grabbed my shoulder, pulled me out of the way, and knelt in front of his father. He got down on his knee and clutched up the old man’s hand.
Again, the old king managed to open one eye.
But he didn’t look at his son. He looked right over the top of his head and settled his gaze on me. Then he stared over at the door.
It seemed to be the last move he would ever make. For he took a death rattle half a second later.
I stared at the door, too, only to realize Lisbeth wasn’t there.
I was, right now, standing in front of history being made. When the king was dead, Lord knew what would happen to this kingdom. He hadn’t been able to save it. He’d only cared about himself. But at least he’d tried to hold onto peace.
Everything I knew was about to crumble. You would think I would stand here in aghast horror. But all I could do was jerk toward the door. “Where is she?”
“Everyone who is not part of the palace must leave the room. The king is dying. Let us give him the peace he deserves,” the prince commanded.
I lurched toward the door. Bram settled a hand on my shoulder.
I saw the anger pulsating in his pupils.
“You cannot take that crystal, Brother. You failed—”
“The king was never going to be saved. The dark magic had already taken up root in him. There can be no fighting dead practitioners,” Arnold said, rising to my defense.
My brother lingered, his hand on my shoulder, clearly giving me a few more seconds to make a mistake. But the prince now roared, “Everyone who does not have anything to do with the palace must leave.”
I assumed that would involve Bram. It wasn’t like he was directly close to the king. But the prince soon gestured him over. Bram was forced to take the crystal off me. He looked at me one last time. Then I was released.
I ran quite willingly into the corridor. The doors were closed behind me.
“I suppose there was nothing that could be done for him in the end, but this is such terrible news,” one of the guards stammered.
Yes. Yes, it was. Because Lisbeth was nowhere to be seen.
This kingdom was about to fall, and I cared more about her? Of course, I quickly interrupted that thought. Because if she was out there, she could try to spill my secrets. I knew full well she didn’t have the power to go against the indenture spell to reveal who I was. But that wasn’t the point.
I had to get to her. And sometimes there’s no explaining what needs to be done when our hearts spur us to act first and think later.
Nobody paid any attention to me. They cared more about history unfolding in the room to their left. It left me free. But free to do what? Elizabeth wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Wasn’t….
I had the means to find her, surely? Forgive me, but I’d never cast an indenturing spell before. I did not have the specifications at the forefront of my mind. But I now certainly remembered that with just a spell or two, one could find their indentured quite easily.
I rushed down the corridor, perhaps on the premise of releasing my emotions at the king’s death.
Instead, I clutched my left wrist hard. It would allow me access to her spell and access to her location…. She was under my feet. Quite far under my feet.
I had a good sense of direction, especially when spells were involved. I could guess where something was in a 3D environment. And Lisbeth… she was in the basement of the palace. My eyes widened with a snap as I realized how far she’d gone. And the sheer impossibility of it. How would she have gained access?
There were too many questions. I soon had to throw them away. For I realized then I knew nothing about Lisbeth McQuarrie.
I had indentured her, but I still did not even know why she’d been spying on me.
I knew how to get into the basement of the palace. That was quite simple, though it could not be done from this level. And I mustn’t let a single other soul know what I was capable of.
I should’ve paid attention to something, but I did not begin to know of its existence. As I ran, as I shot down the stairs, as I found another set of stairs that would lead to the basement, something followed me. A dark notion, a smear, a curse.
To get into the basement proper, you required magic, and I had plenty. If I hadn’t had enough, I would simply have transformed some of my desperation into raw power, for as it beat in my chest, it seemed strong enough to send me straight to the moon.
A thick magical barrier prevented people who were carelessly walking down the stairs from striding into one of the more dangerous, older parts of the palace. Being the old magical building it was, you needed to be terribly careful about poking around in its foundations. If you weren’t strong enough, you could wander into an old booby-trap and be claimed for life.
Nothing could claim me. For I was here to claim back my Lisbeth.
When I finally reached the tunnels proper, stagnant air struck my nostrils.
I’d been down here in the past. Too many times to count. And only occasionally had it been on official business.
I knew my way around. And yet, as I followed Lisbeth’s indenturing spell, I soon came to a part of the tunnels I had never encountered before.
But if that fact was startling, another was far more terrifying. I came across a section of corridor lit by ethereal flames. They flickered this moss green in carved iron lanterns. And they led me down to an open door.
I had no clue what I would find ahead. For, in that moment, I appreciated I had no real clue what had come before. All throughout our lives, we try to understand ourselves, but the older we become, the more we realize that we need certain circumstances before we can unlock the door to our souls.
Trying to know what you are, what you can become, and what you were always meant to do is futile. Until you find your key. And until situations jam that key right into your heart and open it for good.