I looked down at my hands. They were stone, sheathed in granite. I remembered this happening, remembered doing this to myself. I looked up at the essence running free. It had no anchor. I remembered someone saying something about an anchor. Something about a harrowing needing an anchor. Something to ground its energies and interrupt the spell. Stone. It needed a ward stone. I remembered why I had come here. I reached out my hand.
My mind blinked.
I was surrounded by white. One moment I was running, and the next there was white. I turned. Bergin Vize had been standing behind me, a look of fevered hope on his face. His youth surprised me, his almost black hair worn long for an elf, fanning out as though filled with static. I had thought him older. He held his hands out in front him about a foot apart. A gold ring hovered between them, pulsing with essence, revolving around a shaft of light.
Vize’s eyes locked with me, and he smiled. “One door opens; another closes,” he said.
I reached for the ring.
My mind blinked.
My hand was extended toward the staff. My hand wore stone. My body wore it. Like a ward stone. I was a living ward stone. The dark mass in my head held me back for a moment. But only a moment. Pain cut through my mind as I reached forward and closed my hand around the staff. A hot, searing jolt coursed through me. I screamed as the thing in my head tore open and
everything
went
white
Chapter 21
The odor of scorched earth tickled my nose. I opened my eyes and stared at the night sky. The air felt cool on my skin, but the ground felt warm. Pinprick sensations danced all over my body. I sat up slowly, every muscle aching.
A crater surrounded me, charred and deep. Nigel and Eorla lay nearby, still and pale. I winced as I opened my senses. Their essences glowed feebly. They were alive, but barely. I pulled myself painfully to my feet, staring around me in confusion.
At the center of the crater stretched a blackened body. I breathed through my mouth to avoid the rank odor of burnt flesh as I stood over the corpse. Gerin Cuthbern was unrecognizable, but I knew it was him. Even in death, he clutched the oaken staff in his gnarled hands. Ash shivered and flaked off the staff in the light breeze. No essence emanated from it. Without the last vestige of her tree, Hala had dissipated—died, I guess. The realization made me ache inside, knowing that I had come so close to something so sacred. I touched the staff, and it crumbled away from my fingers. After everything that had happened, that made a lump form in my throat.
“That was a fine party,” someone said.
I turned to see the Clure sitting on the edge of the crater, his feet planted in the dirt, elbows propped on his knees. He toasted me with a flask and took a deep drink. Someone was lying next to him and, as I mounted the slope, I realized it was my brother. He looked beaten and worn. But he lived. I could see he lived.
“Is he all right?” I asked when I reached the rim.
The Clure looked down as if surprised to see someone lying next to him. He patted Cal on the chest. “Cal? He’s just fine. More knocks to the head than usual, is all.” He held out the flask. “You look like you could use a drink.”
I took a slug. Smooth, amber whiskey. I smiled. “How’d you know I like Jameson’s?”
The Clure looked at me in shock. “People don’t?”
I laughed as I looked around me. Kruge’s gravesite was gone, replaced by the crater. Dark lines of char spiraled down to the center where Gerin lay. Guild security agents flew over and down to Nigel and Eorla. Across the way, I could see two bodies lying on a grave.
“Tell Cal I said ‘thank you,’ Clure,” I said.
“Will do.” He nodded, sipping from the flask.
I made my way around the crater as more security descended to help. By their essence, I knew the bodies were Meryl and Murdock before I reached them. They lay side by side as if asleep. Alive, though. Thankfully alive. Relieved, I eased myself down beside Meryl and watched as Nigel and Eorla were flown out of the pit on litters.
Meryl sat up. She rubbed her face, looking down at Murdock first, then over at me.
I held my hand out to her. “Are you all right?”
She nodded groggily as she took my hand and swung her feet around to sit next to me. “Yeah. I was just trying to remember the last time I woke up in a graveyard with two guys.”
“What happened?” I asked.
Disbelief etched itself across her face. “You don’t know?”
I cocked my head sideways to try to read her face better. “Did I do something?”
Confused emotions played across her face, as she searched for an answer. “Uh, yeah, you did.”
I looked down at Gerin. “The last thing I remember is you showing up.”
If possible, her eyebrows rose higher. “That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
She gave me a strange look. “You don’t remember anything after I stopped the fighting?”
I shook my head. A sick, frustrated feeling crawled into my chest. How was I going to deal with the frustration of not remembering again? “Dammit, Meryl, why can’t I remember?”
Meryl gave my arm a squeeze. “Don’t worry about it now. You will.”
“What if I don’t?”
She looked up at me with a small smile. “Then we’ll never know why you’re bald.”
I ran my hand over my head and discovered why the air felt so cold. Smooth skin met my touch. Even my eyebrows had vanished. I pursed my lips. “I guess I missed more than a few things.”
Meryl hopped off the vault. She stooped and picked up something. Her face became still, then stricken. She turned away abruptly, and I realized she was crying. I slid off the vault and wrapped my arms around her. She actually let me. I kissed the top of her head. “What is it?” I asked.
She leaned her head against my chest. “I couldn’t save the drys. I made a choice, and they died because of it.”
I knew Hala was gone, but now I realized that I only felt Meryl’s own essence inside her, not all the drys she had held within when she purged Gerin’s spell. I didn’t know how many there had been. I couldn’t even begin to fathom the loss. “What choice?” I said.
She wiped her nose with the sleeve. “It doesn’t matter. It had to be done.”
She held her hand out to show me a small silvered acorn resting in her palm. “Seed of an oak.”
“The promise of the Grove,” I added. Even without touching it, I could feel that spark of essence within it, the potential for new life.
Meryl let it fall from her hand into the crater. It rolled down into the barren remains of what had happened there, a hope awaiting the right moment to become something more. We didn’t say anything for the longest time.
Meryl looked up at me. “Want a lift?”
I grinned. “I didn’t want to ask.”
We wound our way through the gathering police and Guild agents and slipped in among the trees. As we walked into the silence of the graveyard, Meryl slipped her arm through mine. “Just so you know, Connor, this date totally kicked ass.”
“Not a date,” I said. She jabbed me in the ribs.
As I dozed listening to the steady rhythm of the heart monitor, I scratched my head for the umpteenth time. A week’s worth of growth made a good stubble, but it itched like hell under a knit cap. At least I had some eyebrows back.
“Where’s Ryan?”
I lifted my head and smiled. “He’ll be here soon. I told him I would wait.”
Keeva looked at me from her hospital bed, eyes dim, face pale. “Gerin?”
“Dead.”
“Good,” she said. She pushed herself up into a sitting position. “How long have I been out?”
“About a week. You took a nasty hit to the head,” I said. Joe had made me promise not to stell her. He hated when someone didn’t like him.
“I can’t believe what I did,” she said.