Authors: Kate Sparkes
And a larger army meant a better chance of me getting into the city and finishing my business with my brother.
I let the world outside of the bodies go, and lost myself in my work. Each wound that I felt became a communion with the dead, an act of remembrance for a stranger. There was no Rowan, and even the Despair vanished. There was only the pain, and the weight of dead flesh that desired only to return to the earth.
And then they were finished. When I opened my eyes, every broken, tangled puppet stood on his or her own feet.
Almost every one. I remembered that there was another, set off to the side. I moved toward the mountain of armored flesh that the others had so considerately placed behind a pair of fallen trees.
Wardrel. My brother, and my tormenter for so many years.
I didn’t hesitate. To pause would have given the Despair an opportunity to enter and re-open old wounds. My magic moved more slowly now, as though it shared my exhaustion. But the power was there, and it obeyed my commands as I gathered it to call up the last body. I was vaguely aware of the sound of Rowan’s footsteps following me, but ignored them. I couldn’t imagine how this all looked to her, but she hadn’t stepped in.
I trust you,
she’d said to me, more than once. I wondered whether she trusted me enough to let me destroy myself.
I couldn’t help hating him, though I tried to remain impassive and treat this as I had the other bodies. Couldn’t help considering this revenge, and almost hoping he knew what was happening. I hoped Wardrel’s body would end up filled with arrows, or destroyed by magic stronger than any he’d ever wielded. I gritted my teeth, and I let the magic flow.
The deep pain that stabbed under my left arm came as no surprise, but the swirling darkness that immediately surrounded me did. I gasped. Cold fingers of fear danced through my chest and clutched my heart, and something like laughter echoed through my mind.
I blinked hard, but the darkness remained, blinding me. I tried to let go, and couldn’t. The body drew on my magic, and I felt it sit up, as though it were my own half-dead muscles obeying my commands. I pushed the fear aside, replacing it with hate and rage that pushed my magic further and harder. The heaviness in my body reflected the weight of his as I hauled him to his feet.
He won’t escape this.
The darkness turned to blackness, thick and all-consuming and lifeless.
I suddenly felt myself teetering on the brink of a dark and cold chasm, and didn’t know how to pull myself back.
Too far
, I thought.
Much too far.
Coherent thought slipped away as the blackness reached up to cover me and draw me in.
Light appeared behind me, pale and gentle. The cold hesitated, then continued its slow creep. The light grew, coursing warm through my body, bringing my awareness back.
Rowan’s magic.
I reached out and felt her standing behind me. She pressed herself against my back, holding me tight, letting her magic battle something she didn’t understand any more than I did.
The darkness that had clouded my mind disappeared, and I stood in the forest again. I closed myself off to Rowan’s magic, and she let go. I didn’t have time to reflect on what she’d done, or on what she’d risked. Wardrel’s body rested somewhere just beyond my control, collapsed back into a pathetic heap.
I decided to try again, without letting my emotions carry me. The brother who had enjoyed my pain and that of so many others was no more. There was only this flesh, which would no doubt strike fear into Severn if he saw it. I ignored my memories and made him stand and join the others, then waited for the pain to fade.
I still felt Rowan’s magic in me, soothing my heart as the Despair’s doubts crept back in, restoring my body as that deathly feeling faded far more slowly than I’d have liked.
I looked over the group of standing corpses as I drained the rest of Morea’s potion. A boy who might have been a year older than Patience stepped toward me and stumbled as his broken leg buckled under him. He landed hard, cracking his head against a boulder. The nausea that filled me then had nothing to do with my magic. I released him, and he lay still.
Horrifying as the sight of the bodies was, I couldn’t push away the surge of pride that swelled in me. It had cost me much, but I had finished it.
No one has done this before. Unprecedented power.
But I hadn’t done it alone.
I turned to thank Rowan, and froze. Her eyes stared off into the distance, and her arms hung slack at her sides.
“Rowan?”
She slumped to the ground.
46
ROWAN
I
lifted my hand to push away whoever was patting my face. Sleeping seemed like such a nice idea, and they were making it difficult.
“Rowan, wake up.”
Aren. I couldn’t think what he was doing there, or why I’d be lying on such hard, rocky ground. At least, not until Morea lifted my eyelids and I saw the corpses standing behind her. A monstrous, armored form stumbled into view behind her. I gasped and pushed myself back, though my legs weren’t strong enough to get me far.
“Did I faint?”
Aren stepped into view. “Thank the gods that’s all it was. I thought you’d left me again. Florizel went for help as soon as you fell.”
I sat up and brushed the dead pine needles from my hair. “Everything was fine, but then...” I shuddered. I couldn’t explain what I’d felt. My magic had left me, pulling Aren back from whatever had its claws in him, holding him frozen. As it left, a cold and deathly feeling had coursed through me, replacing the magic I’d lost.
If Aren had felt anything like that as he worked, I didn’t know how he was still standing.
“I’m all right now,” I concluded, and spat on the ground. My mouth tasted of decay.
Aren still looked concerned. “You didn’t use up your stores?”
“You didn’t take that much, really.” More than I was comfortable with, but I’d have given it all to stop whatever was hurting him.
Aren nodded, still frowning. “Morea, is everyone else ready to go?”
“They are. Ruby and Griselda left, and should have begun their portion of the attack by now.”
Aren sat on the ground next to me. “We should move, then.”
I really looked at him then. Dark circles had appeared under his eyes, and he looked flat, drained in a way he hadn’t been even when his magic had failed him in Darmid. I imagined I didn’t look much better, but I hoped my skin didn’t have that odd greenish cast.
Morea offered me a flask of water, and I drank. It tasted sweet and sharp, and whatever she had put in there warmed me and eased the chill of death that had crept into my bones. My magic burned a little brighter. “Something new for you,” she said. “Possibly an improvement. I have one for you as well, Aren, though it looks like the hard work is done.”
“Thank you,” I said, and wondered whether a Potioner ever really got the thanks she deserved. Sorcerers seemed to hog all the glory, but as far as I could tell, we’d be long past doomed without Nox and Morea.
Florizel nudged me with her nose, and let me use her strong neck to get to my feet.
“Let’s go.” Aren stood and walked through the crowd of standing bodies. They followed, jostling and bumping into each other until they’d all spread out and found their own space. We reached the edge of the tree cover, and he let them walk ahead. The bodies had seemed like a crowd in the woods. Standing there at the edge of the barrens, they were a sorry excuse for a line of defense.
Aren obviously thought the same. “It won’t be enough,” he said. “We need to intimidate the soldiers when the first arrows don’t take our troops down, to inspire fear and awe when they realize what they’re facing. This group looks defeatable. We need... more. And I can’t do it.”
“I can,” I said softly.
I closed my eyes, shutting out the world. We had the framework of our defenses, but if we spread them out too much it would be easy for Severn’s forces to cut through and reach the living behind them. What we really wanted was a solid wall of bodies—literal bodies, shambling and frightening and unwilling to die again—to lead the advance and draw arrow fire. Or at least the appearance of one.
I still have enough magic. I can do this.
You will fail,
the Despair murmured.
Best not to try.
You are wrong,
I answered.
This is who I am. This is my destiny, and I will accept it on my terms.
My magic responded. Even depleted, it felt strong and ready, lifting me up and filling me with light.
When I opened my eyes, I was surprised to find the incredible glow I felt within me didn’t radiate visibly from my skin. It felt so solid, more real and more a part of me than it ever had before, bringing back the life and strength that had been drained from me.
I breathed deep, steeled myself against the Despair’s lingering effects, and moved to stand beside Aren, looking toward the bodies as they moved awkwardly along the tree line toward the road where the living would be waiting.
Warmth enveloped me as I envisioned my illusion.
Another body appeared. Not a significant addition to the army, but it was something. More than that, it was strong. Clear. More convincing than anything I’d created before.
I bit my lip hard to return my focus to my work instead of the excitement that lifted me.
Another appeared, and another, each an exact replica of the real bodies, right down to the timing of their lurching, stumbling footsteps. I placed them well away from the originals. They all shuffled away, and I followed as I added more. Aren kept pace beside me, keeping silent as I worked.
My magic lessened, and I fought back a surge of panic
.
I’d have to be more careful. I turned to creating replicas of replicas. They would be less convincing close-up, but at a distance they would work well enough to inspire fear, and they would cost me less of my diminishing magic stores.
The warm glow faded as my magic left me.
Keep the flame of magic burning bright enough that it will come back,
I reminded myself, remembering words from a book in the Belleisle school library.
If the flame is too low, it will go out…
And if the dead army looks too small, we will fail to protect the living.
My magic had come back once after it had been nearly gone. Aren’s had too, after being dangerously low. It would be fine. It had to be.
The army filled out, expanding to the appearance of being hundreds strong. They would equal our living troops, at least in appearance, and give the archers on the wall a huge target they would fail to bring down. I added more. Only when I began to feel faint again did I stop. If I lost consciousness they would disappear, and it would all be for nothing. I leaned against Florizel and kept walking.
Aren reached for my hand. “Thank you,” he said, and released me again. “It’s incredible.”
“Mine won’t have any strength if you’re hoping to have the dead bash the gates in.”
“That won’t be a problem if Ruby and Griselda are successful,” Morea noted, and handed a bottle to Aren. He sipped, nodded his thanks, and kept walking.
Aren quickened his pace as we approached the road, and Morea, Florizel, and I followed. We passed the still-moving bodies, passing them on the forest side of the group. Aren turned back to stop them, and we kept on.
Ulric sat astride the fine war horse that he’d claimed after our escape from Ardare, and held the bridle of another strong beast in need of a rider, both carrying a few weapons and nothing else that might slow them down. The king looked well, if pale and still far older than he had before his fight with Severn. His hair remained white, and deep lines creased the corners of his eyes.
“Well?” he asked.
Aren looked up at his father. “Everything you didn’t want to happen is ready. You have a moving shield waiting in the woods, should you choose to use it.”
Ulric’s jaw tightened. “Show me.”
Aren closed his eyes. Moments later, the dead army shambled out of the woods.
Ulric drew a sharp breath as a body near the front released its innards onto the ground. At the same moment, every illusion and copy of an illusion based on that body did the same, coating the earth at their feet in gore. “It’s horrible.”
“It’s our only chance,” Aren answered. He nodded over Ulric’s shoulder, where low voices drifted toward us from out of sight and up the hill. “At least, it’s theirs.”
Albion rode toward us. “Are we ready?”
Ulric’s gaze remained stuck on the bodies. “I will never be ready for this. But I suppose the deed is done, and we’ll use the tools available to us. We’ll deal with the consequences later.” His jaw clenched tight. “Well done, Aren.”
The old king looked to me, and his eyes narrowed. “Your illusions?”
I lifted my chin and met his gaze. “They are.”
He looked over them again. “Impressive.” He handed me a bow and a quiver full of arrows. They felt heavier in my hands than they should have, as though already weighed down by blood. “We should move now. I haven’t had word of Severn’s troops returning yet, but they’ll come. Best to go while we’re only fighting a war on one front.”
Albion turned his horse and rode away.
“Aren, your troops will lead,” Ulric said. “The others have already been warned, but it will still be a shock to them. I’d advise against paying attention to any reactions.”
“Won’t be the first time I’ve repulsed people,” Aren replied without any trace of self-pity. “This time it’s at least more interesting.”
Ulric grunted. “You have to ride with them?”
Aren swung up into the saddle of the other horse. “It will be easier to maintain control that way.”
Ulric’s lips narrowed. “Stay back if you can. They’ll be taking most of the early damage.”
Aren’s half-smile was rueful. “I’ll try to stay out of trouble. Rowan, your illusions will follow the bodies even if you stay back, correct?”
I nodded. “I think so. My magic is maintaining them, but they’re connected to their sources.”