The Final Redemption Read online

  Removing my gauntlets, I paused for a moment before casting a shield around the crumbling form of Moira Centyr. While Penny wasn’t able to see what was happening, my daughter gasped, and I worried she might try to intervene. I brought my enchanted shield stones out again and recreated my shield, this time around myself and the Stone Lady.

  What are you doing? Holding me will gain you nothing, my time is done, Moira Centyr’s mental voice informed me.

  Don’t distract me, I replied in the same fashion, I need your help, so I’m afraid I can’t let you pass on just yet. I relinked the Iron Heart Chamber to the enchanted shield around us before taking out my silver stylus. Using it, I began circling the Stone Lady, inscribing precise runes into the air around her, creating an intricate linked pattern.

  It was an enchantment, but creating it without a solid substrate was an incredibly difficult task. I had to maintain a careful image of the whole, even as I worked to expand and complete the remaining portion. If my concentration were to waver at any point, the whole structure would collapse before its completion.

  Moira Centyr’s thoughts were desperate now. Please, no! You can’t do this to me. I have tried to aid you at every turn. Why do you betray me thus?!

  I ignored everything and continued my work. It wasn’t until I heard my daughter’s voice that I nearly stumbled and lost my place. “Don’t! You’re hurting her!” she cried from beyond the outer shield. Still, she made no attempt to interfere. Either she knew that the shield was beyond her power, or she had resigned herself to accept whatever I was doing. I had to wonder how much her mother’s remnant had told her.

  Seconds passed into minutes while I worked, losing track of time. I had narrowed my focus until the only things that existed for me were the runes I was inscribing and the memory I had plucked from the distant past. The memory of Moira Centyr and the first Mordecai’s secret project, the enchantment he had created to save them from the dark forces looming over their world—the enchantment that had created the Shining Gods.

  This is wrong! She cried again in my mind.

  Tell that to the woman who originally created you, I retorted.

  She did not fix me in this world for all eternity. She knew what they had done before was a mistake.

  I quite honestly, do not give a damn. You will assist me until my goals are complete, and then I will release you, if you so desire. The enchantment was complete now, and it contracted, crushing inward to bind the magical sentience that was all that remained of Moira Centyr. Without pause, I uttered the words that I had built into the enchantment, binding her to my will.

  Her head bowed in defeat as I removed the inner shield that had kept her in place while I worked. I am your slave. I had not thought you capable of such evil. I misjudged you, she informed me mentally.

  I know the feeling, I responded. I don’t have the luxury of being nice anymore, but one way or another I WILL stop Mal’goroth.

  Examining the immediate area, it appeared that my audience had decided not to interfere. My daughter was watching me with wide eyes, holding her mother’s hand. Penny’s face was inscrutable, and Sir Egan had recovered enough to stand beside her. Since things were still calm I took down my enchanted shield for a second time. No one moved.

  Climb up on the dragon, I commanded, demonstrating for my new servant. Moira Centyr followed reluctantly. Keep your silence too, I don’t want you talking to anyone else just yet, most specifically my daughter.

  Gareth gathered his legs under him to leap once more into the sky, and I turned my head away. Watching my family was too painful, and my daughter’s eyes were both sad and accusing. She projected her thoughts to me for the first time in her young life.

  Why are you taking my mother away? The touch of her gentle mind made my heart ache.

  I closed my eyes and focused my magesight on the sky, refusing to answer. It was too much for me. The dragon leapt into the air, and the wind thundered with the sound of his powerful wing strokes.

  Father?

  My resolve broke when I heard that word. She isn’t your mother. She’s an echo, a ghost, the same as I am.

  She told me that, but both of you are wrong. Mothers and fathers are not born of blood. You are my father as much as the man that you were made from—as much as they are my mothers. She sent me the mental image of herself, holding Penny’s hand, followed by the image of the Stone Lady.

  Then do as I say, as he would have said, ‘Take care of your mother and your brothers and sister.’ I told her. My heart was heavy, and I was grateful that Gareth’s flight had almost taken us beyond the range of my ability to communicate.

  Faintly, I heard her last thought, I love you.

  The dead cannot cry, but tears are the least of the pains one can feel.

  Chapter 14

  Elise Thornbear stood quietly in the street in the dockside district of Albamarl. She wore an old grey wool dress, patched and worn with age. It was unremarkable, other than for its cleanliness. She had had it freshly laundered before borrowing it from one of her servants. In her hand she carried a small basket.

  Her hair was caught up in a tight bun, and without jewelry or any other adornments, she could have been almost anyone—anyone other than a noblewoman. Since returning to live in Albamarl, she had re-visited many parts of the city, for nostalgic reasons mostly, but she had never found a reason to go to the dockside area. Even during her youth, working as one of the ‘Ladies of the Evening’, she had never had reason to frequent it. The few women who plied the world’s oldest profession here were not church sanctioned.

  His condition aside, it’s hard to believe Mordecai would be attacking prostitutes in this part of town, she considered silently. There are better places in town to find willing women, or whores—or prey, if that’s what we are to him now.

  The door in front of her was unpainted, grey and weathered by sun and rain. It was typical of the houses in the area. She knocked softly on it and waited patiently until one of the occupants came to the answer it.

  “Who’s there?” a small voice asked through the old wood.

  Elise had anticipated this situation. She knew that the woman she was looking for would be highly suspicious of anyone unexpected. Strangers didn’t knock on doors in this part of town unless they were trying to collect money. It was one of the reasons she had dressed as plainly as possible.

  “I’m looking for a Mister Cobb. I was told he lived close to here, but I’m not familiar with the area,” she answered, giving the name of the neighbor whom she had just spoken with while looking for Myrtle’s house.

  There was a brief pause before the child’s voice responded, “He doesn’t live here. He’s next door.”

  “Oh thank you!” Elise said gratefully. “I do appreciate your help. Do you think you could point it out to me? I’d rather not have to knock on any more strangers’ doors.”

  Megan hesitated, but the woman outside seemed harmless enough, at least by her voice. After a moment, she opened the door enough to point at the house on the right hand of theirs. “He lives over there,” she said cautiously. “He isn’t in trouble is he? He’s a nice man.” In fact, he frequently allowed Megan to use his hearth to heat water for herself and her mother, since they couldn’t afford wood.

  “What? Oh no! Hardly that, dear, I came to bring him some food and medicine. One of his friends asked me to come round. He’s taken sick, and of course no one can afford what the physicians charge,” Elise lied easily. “I’m a midwife, but I also collect herbs, and these days I tend more to the sick than I do young mothers.”

  “Oh,” said the young girl with a look of consternation. Thoughts were tumbling about in her mind, but it was unclear whether her unspoken thoughts or her caution would choose her next words.

  Elise didn’t wait to find out. “Thank you for your help, Miss. Can I offer you some bread? I have more than Mr. Cobb needs, and it was kind of you to help me.” She pulled at the cloth covering her basket to reveal a large round loaf
.

  That simple act overcame Megan’s suspicion. “We could sure use it, ma’am. Momma’s been very sick lately, and we haven’t had much.” She left unspoken the hope that perhaps the kindly woman might be able to do more.

  Lady Thornbear’s brow creased in an expression of worry, “Would you like me to take a look at her? Perhaps I could help.”

  “We don’t have anything to pay you,” answered Megan, but her eyes were hopeful.

  Elise studied the small girl for a second. “I won’t ask you to, but perhaps someday if I need help you could return the favor.”

  “That seems fair,” answered Megan seriously. She stepped back to let the older woman into the home she shared with her mother.

  The interior of the small house was dimly lit, but after she had examined, it Elise decided that too much illumination might only make the dismal nature of their home more apparent. A woman, Myrtle presumably, lay upon a small bed along one wall. There were few furnishings and the small rickety table and cold hearth did little to relieve the emptiness.

  Megan’s mother seemed to be fast asleep, but when Elise checked her forehead she found it to be far too warm. Laying her head against the woman’s chest, she listened to her heartbeat. She didn’t like what she heard. She’s fevered, and her heart is beating too quickly.

  “How long has she been like this?”

  “Several days…”

  Elise frowned, “Has she been able to eat or drink much?”

  “I’ve given her water, but she doesn’t drink much. We ran out of bread yesterday, and Nikko took our money,” answered the girl.

  “Nikko?”

  “Momma pays him to keep the watch from bothering us,” replied the girl.

  I sincerely doubt he has anything to do with the watch, thought Elise, but she merely nodded in response. “Can you fetch some hot water for me? I see you have a kettle there.”

  After a short time the girl returned with a steaming kettle. Opening her bag, Elise removed a small sachet and set it into the water to steep. “This should help her fever, and if she drinks enough it will steady her heart as well,” she told the girl. “Your mother needs more fluid inside her. Come here. Listen to her chest,” she added, motioning for Megan to listen to her mother’s heartbeat.

  “It sounds sort of fluttery,” observed the girl.

  Elise nodded. “When you don’t have enough water in you, your blood shrinks, and your heart tries to make up for it by beating faster. It can be very dangerous. Look at her skin.” She pinched the flesh on the top of Myrtle’s hand. “See how it stands up? That’s another sign. Sometimes people get sick and can’t get better simply because they don’t drink enough to last until they get over it.”

  Once the tea was ready, Megan attempted to wake her mother up. It took several minutes of shaking, cajoling and constant nagging, but eventually Myrtle roused herself enough to take a small sip. Her eyes were glazed, and it was obvious that she was mildly delirious. She failed to even notice the stranger in her home before she closed her eyes again.

  “That won’t do,” said Lady Thornbear, pursing her lips.

  “Shouldn’t we let her rest?” asked Megan. “She did drink a little.”

  “Not nearly enough,” explained Elise. “She’ll die if you let her keep resting. What do you think are acceptable methods to wake someone up when they’re like this?”

  The girl thought hard for a moment, “Loud noises?”

  Elise nodded, “That’s a start, but you’ve already tried that. If that doesn’t work you could try slapping or cold water.”

  “You aren’t going to slap her are you?!” said Megan, alarmed.

  Lady Thornbear smiled, “No, but when the choices are between dying and putting the patient through something uncomfortable, sometimes you have to choose the crueler option. Luckily I have something here that will probably work more easily than resorting to such crude methods.” Reaching into her basket she removed a small glass vial.

  “What’s that?”

  “Chemists call it ‘sal ammoniac’, but you’ve probably heard it called ‘smelling salts’,” replied Elise as she unstopped the vial and waved it under Myrtle’s nose. The unconscious woman inhaled sharply, and her eyes flew wide as she turned her head, seeking to escape the sharp smell of ammonia.

  “Who’re you?” asked Myrtle as her eyes focused.

  “Drink this,” ordered Lady Thornbear, ignoring the question.

  Myrtle shook her head, refusing the cup. “Did Nikko send you? Why are you here?”

  Sighing inwardly Elise glanced at Megan, willing the girl to silence as she lied, “Yes, of course, Nikko sent me to make sure you recover. Now drink this, or I’ll be forced to have him come see you personally.”

  That seemed to work. Myrtle took a long swallow before pushing the cup away again, but Elise wasn’t done yet. Shaking the other woman she spoke again, “Finish the cup, dear, or I’ll be forced to harsher measures.”

  Myrtle’s eyes opened and this time she finished the small cup before closing them again. Elise let her rest this time.

  “Will that be enough to make her better?” asked Megan.

  Lady Thornbear smiled kindly, “Oh heavens no, she’ll need much more, but she can’t take it all in at once. We’ll let her sleep a while and then wake her up again in an hour.”

  “Will you stay that long?”

  “I’ll have to see to Mr. Cobb first and take care of a few other things, but I’ll be back after that,” she told the girl.

  After leaving the poor dwelling she did indeed visit Mr. Cobb. Her true purpose was to bribe him, making certain he wouldn’t reveal her lie to the girl if asked. She also inquired regarding the whereabouts of Nikko, claiming she had some business with him as well.

  Mr. Cobb was helpful enough, especially once he had seen the color of her coin, though he did seem concerned whether she meant harm to Megan and her mother. Nikko turned out to be a well-known figure in the local area and Mr. Cobb didn’t mind sharing that information at all.

  It was several hours before Lady Thornbear returned to Myrtle’s tiny home, but she had accomplished her goals. Megan seemed glad to see her and let her in immediately. “I wasn’t sure if you would really come back,” admitted the child.

  Elise patted her gently on the head. The girl seemed intelligent despite her youth, probably a result of learning to survive at an early age. “My business took a little longer than I anticipated. Did your mother drink the rest of the tea?”

  The kettle was nearly empty. Megan had roused her mother hourly to drink more, using the smelling salts when necessary. Myrtle’s fever had improved as well. Lady Thornbear had the girl fetch more hot water and prepared another batch of tea.

  Once that was taken care of, and they had given Myrtle another cup she began asking more direct questions. “Did your mother have any unusual visitors before she became sick?”

  The girl was reluctant to answer the question, possibly for fear of revealing her mother’s occupation, but over a period of an hour, she eventually relayed the entire story, describing their strange visitor from several nights past. Without realizing it, she had gradually come to trust the older woman, though she would have been hard pressed to know exactly why.

  Elise Thornbear stayed several hours more before finally packing her things to leave. She had learned everything she wanted to know, though the answers had left her with more questions. She stroked Megan’s hair again before she left. “I’ll be back tomorrow morning to check on your mother,” she said reassuringly.

  She returned the next day with a carriage and several of her gentler servants. With a bit of discussion, she convinced Megan and her mother to return with her to her home in the city. The girl was nervous, but Elise gave her little opportunity to refuse. Lady Thornbear was extremely persuasive when she wanted to be.

  Myrtle would be given a job among Lady Thornbear’s staff once she recovered, and Elise had high hopes for Megan. The girl seemed unusually bright.<
br />
  Nikko died of an unknown stomach ailment the next day.

  Chapter 15

  We flew to the west, following the Myrtle River as it made its way to the coast. Since we had started in late afternoon we soon found ourselves flying at night but the moon was up, and Gareth seemed to have little problem seeing in the dark. The weather was clear and the moon bathed the world below us in a fascinating array of white and dark areas. The river itself appeared black, but in the distance it would glow where the moonlight was reflected toward us.

  If I had been a poet, I might have been tempted to craft a verse to honor the occasion, but as it was, I just settled for being suitably awed.

  Moira Centyr had been silent since we had left Albamarl behind. I still thought of her by that name, even though she wasn’t truly the original person. It was much easier than anything else, for she had never been given her own name. Not like me, since I managed to name myself ‘Brexus’ a few hours ago, I thought quietly. I guess the name is appropriate though, for I will indeed pay a number of debts before this is all over. I started to add, ‘or die trying’, but I realized a more fitting phrase might be, ‘or I can try dying.’

  Our flight took us over the town of Turlington, which nestled itself at the edge of the Wyvern Marsh, where the river fanned out into a wide delta that fed a huge swampy region. The marsh itself had been named that because the original founder of Turlington had thought the multitudes of crocodiles that made the region home were rather dragon-like. He might have rethought his opinion if he had seen my current mount. The difference between Gareth Gaelyn and the reptiles that made the marsh home was fairly striking.

  For that matter, it was probably a good thing that we were flying over at night. The inhabitants might have panicked if they had seen the colossal form of the dragon flying over.

  That thought set me to chuckling at the mental image of the town’s citizens running for cover, and Moira shifted in front of me when she felt my laughter. Still, she kept her silence.