Chapter 18-Night of Goddesses
The perspiration gleamed on his forehead, and his breath came in hoarse rasps as he tossed and turned, entangling himself in the sweat-soaked sheets. Ami came out of her trance; her magik settled over his body like a translucent blanket of gleaming ocean blue. Her fingers clenched together in helpless fury when she was met with the same results as always–her magik was doing nothing for Zacch.
No matter how hard she tried to burn out the infection and lower his body temperature, there was no change. She held back tears as she reached out to touch his flushed cheek. ‘Why aren't you getting better? What am I doing wrong? Why doesn't anything work?!'
In all her experience with the sick or wounded, Ami had never encountered something like this. She had been unable to heal anymore when she ran out of magik, but that wasn't the problem now. Something within him was resisting the healing she was trying to bring about, and she didn't know what she could do about it.
Everyone else was worried about Zacch–but almost all of them were having problems of their own. Serena spent nearly all her time with Darrian and Kent, who Ami had finally managed to see to. During their time together, Kent and Ami had discovered a few common interests. He was surprised by her sharp intelligence as she talked him through the healing process, and as their friendship developed, he found it useful to air a few of his private concerns to her. When Kentan wasn't with Darrian, he sometimes kept her company at Zacch's bedside. Whenever Mina happened to be there at the same time, the two spent most of their time arguing about anything and everything under the sun.
Rei and Jalen were having a private feud which Ami knew nothing about, having spent the past week dividing all of her attention between Darrian, Zaccheus, and Kentan. Jalen was silent and grim during the time they spent together, and Reisha was peculiarly withdrawn.
The only two people who seemed to be getting along fairly well were Nath and Lita, but Nathair always offered, indiscriminately, a polite smile and a warm countenance. Ami doubted that even if something had been on his mind, no one would know–except, possibly, Mina, who was now exceedingly busy. Very few could tell when things were troubling him, and he preferred to keep his meditations to himself.
Nath had not yet apologized to her for his rudeness, and she had had many thoughts about her coldness herself. It was essential, she had been told, for a healer to keep a calm manner and an dispassionate tone. Of equal importance were healers' inward feelings, the compassion and pain they felt on the behalf of the patient.
Ami saw within herself a vast abyss of empty space, unfilled by the emotion she desperately needed. She saw a reflection of this loneliness in Nath, a deep, dark sea that feared rejection. He had been frightened to see the same thing inside of her, and so he had lashed out at her for appearing so unconcerned about Zaccheus's condition. As Zacch's burning heat had drawn Ami, Lita's ever-present warmth attracted Nath.
Lita's spirits had been low but improving as of late. This Ami attributed to Nath's constant companionship; the two were spending more time than ever, and he appeared to be helping her over her gloom. Ami could guess at the reason for her grief. She herself had not been extremely close to those they had lost, but the numb feeling of shock and disbelief that someone she had known, even as a mere acquaintance, was gone. Vanished off the face of the earth without a chance of ever turning up again.
The ever-present veil of despair and hopelessness fell over Ami again as she considered that Zacch, too, might be on his way to joining them in that faraway land of shadows and shades. If his temperature didn't start falling, his brain would quite literally be cooked. ‘Please don't leave me, Zacch. Who will I be without you? How can I go on, knowing that I couldn't save you?'
She didn't feel that she would be strong enough to pick up the pieces of her life. There would be her friends to live for, care for, but her spirit would, as many others so often did, fade into nothing. Ami's current person had been most influenced by her childhood and her relationship with Zacch; she often thought that her anger and sorrow had sustained her throughout the difficult period of transition from the kingdom of the naiads to Arcelia. If she hadn't had that deep focus of pain, the strength of her emotion keeping her grounded in the world, she didn't think she would have come so far to where she was today.
The longest night of her vigil began when Zacch's hallucinations mounted. Ami became, by turns, his father, his deceased mother, his younger brother (also dead), Jalen, her past self... She felt herself slip into their roles as she addressed her, learned more about his life than he had ever told her in their short time together. Their youthful love had been one of happiness; now, it was their time of sorrow.
Not all of his memory-based hallucinations were sad. One time, he and Jalen plotted a prank against one of their tutors; in another instant, he believed he was back during the golden years of budding adulthood.
"Ami...I love you. Say you'll be with me, always."
She closed her eyes tightly, but streams of tears slipped down her cheeks anyway. ‘Please, Zacch, don't do this to me. Not now.'
"I want you with me...because I can't do it alone. I don't want the responsibility! I don't want the throne!" He thrashed about restlessly, his face a mask of pain and agony.
She touched his brow gently. "Stop. Rest. Look how well you've done, Zacch. You've done it all without me, and you used to say you never could. Look at how strong you've become...and draw on that strength.
Have you thought about the friendships you've made on this journey? You used to hate the fact that you had very few true friends to depend upon in the palace...now there are other soul-brothers and -sisters beside you. Jalen, Nath, Darrian...and you will get to know Kentan. He's anxious to thank you and meet you, you know. He's heard of you, as you have heard of him. And Seren, who you comforted during the battle...she told me about that. Mina's waiting for you to wake up so she can yell at you, and Rei says your swordsmanship need work." She laughed softly through her tears.
"Your people need you now. You used to tell me that they had become your people in the strongest sense. No one can take your place in their hearts, in your father's heart, in Jalen's and Mina's and...my heart. You can do this," she pleaded with him.
It was the night that would determine everything for him. If his fever went down and he lived through the night, he would begin his recovery in the morning. If his fever continued to rise...he would never rise from what could become his deathbed.
His breathing slowed slightly, as if he was considering the things she had thrown at him in her desperation. She watched as his breathing rattled less in his throat...but happened at longer and longer intervals. His chest rose lower and lower each time, and when it finally stopped rising, Ami's eyes widened in disbelief when she realized that he no longer had a pulse.
****~**~****
Seren and Kentan sat together in silence; all that needed to be said had been said. Kent appeared to be dozing off. He nodded off every few minutes and then jerked awake with an incoherent grumble. At last he slumbered, his chest rising and falling with deep, even breaths.
Seren inched closer to Darrian's bedside, looking upon the face of the man she admired so. At present, the fire was gone from his face in its peaceful rest. The slightly too-long dark bangs were settled gently upon his forehead, and his magnificent sapphire eyes were closed in sleep. She had been there long enough to know when he was sleeping or dreaming. In the latter circumstance, his eyes would move rapidly back and forth, as if watching some interesting scene unfold before his eyes.
His skin had been slightly pale underneath his tan before, but he appeared to be recovering his color now. His lips were paler than hers and slightly open as he breathed in and out. His hand was resting on the coverlet; she placed her own smaller, whiter one over his. It was so unusual, Seren mused, to see Darrian lying so still. She had seen him sleep before, when they had been traveling together, but it was different now, with the worry clawing at her heart.
He had always been alive and at work, brimming with vigor and energy. He was far from lazy, but he knew well enough when it was more expedient to delegate responsibilities to others. People followed him, for their own various reasons, but also because he knew what he was doing. He was consumed with his cause, which contributed to the fierce, undying light in his eyes. It was that light that drew others in, even against their will. Seren herself was captive to their alarming, smoldering light, fascinated in spite of his unknowing cruelty.
His expectations for others were extremely high, but only because the standards he set for himself were equally demanding. Darrian had the same gift as Malina had: they could tell what jobs others were suited for and how fit they were to perform certain tasks. They knew how good they were–but they knew the capabilities of others as well. The difference was the way they went about gathering support.
Darrian didn't put much effort into it. He knew he was right (for the most part) and what he had to do to achieve his goals; anyone who agreed with him could follow him. Mina worked along the lines of subtle coaxing, flattery, and a great deal of charm. The poor unfortunates lulled by her engaging smile and all-accepting nature had no idea what they got themselves into, but even when they did realize, they remained enamored of her. Darrian's spark was natural leadership ability and his devotion to a common cause; Mina's method was slightly more personal. People followed Darrian because he knew what he was doing–they followed Malina because she asked them to.
Few were acquainted with the side of Darrian Seren had only caught brief glimpses of. She closed her eyes, thinking back to the times when they had traveled together, just the two of them: the sorrow in Darrian's face when he comprehended the bleak reality of her life; the graceful lines of his body as he wielded his sword against an invisible opponent, his shadow silhouetted against the hot light of the burning campfire; the roguish, boyishly triumphant grin on his face when he undid a particularly difficult lock; the sad, wistful look he wore when he spoke of his deceased grandfather; and the desperate, protective anger on his countenance when she had waited for him to catch up at the palace...
The fire that burned within him was calling her, and she had relinquished control over her feelings willingly, wanting to be consumed by this inferno that was Darrian McKellan. There was something inherently trustworthy about him, something unspeakably noble in his profile, his manner, his words. A smile from him could make her glow with happiness, a harsh word made her heart writhe in agony. The problem was, no one ever knew how far he was willing to go, and he had recently crossed the lines of her comfort.
She no longer trusted him blindly, and it was a terrible thing she had admitted to herself that she couldn't trust him completely. Darrian had been taught to make use of whatever weapons he had at hand, and he was used to fighting for his life, whereas Seren was not. There was the ethical question to be considered: was it right to use magik against an opponent who either had no magik or was untrained?
She compared the two images: one a passionate, fiercely angry young man, the other figure with softer, kinder eyes that were willing to help her in her ignorance. He believed in the future, a future much better than the present–for others rather than for himself. Her gaze returned to Darrian's face, and she smiled sadly. She no longer thought of him as perfect, and it was a sad ideal for her to lose, but her heart called plaintively for his reawakening.
Seren cast a furtive look at Kentan, but he was soundly asleep. Darrian's eyelids twitched alarmingly, but his movement stilled as well. She rose swiftly and bent over him, her cheeks flushed slightly as she embarked on this dangerous, daring venture. Quickly, she lowered her face to his and kissed him.
Darrian came to drowsily, his groggy mind not taking in much of his surroundings. The world around him was misty at best, lit with hints of golden flame here ad there. He was much more aware of the pleasant sensation of soft lips, conscious of the increasingly rapid beating of his heart. His eyes sharpened so that pleasantly-scented silvery hair tumbled around him, and he freed his arms from their restraints to place both hands on either side of the vision's face...
Thus, it came as a surprise to both of them when a loud oath, followed by an equally vociferous demand to know what exactly they thought they were doing, was heard. Seren leapt away from the bed, knocking Darrian back onto his pillow, as Kent got to his feet with an angry look on his face.
"As glad as I am to see you awake, Darrian, I feel the need to express my utter incomprehension of the situation. I asked you to look after my sister, not to seduce her!"
Darrian's muddled thoughts ranged from the fact that he was a dead man, to the matter of his ribs still hurting, to the shock that he had been kissing Seren. "I thought that was a dream" didn't seem like the best response.
"I...can explain," he offered feebly.
"Then you'd better go ahead and do it," his friend growled menacingly.
"That is...I could, if I knew what was going on."
Seren covered her face, doubly mortified, and dashed out of the room. On her way out, she passed Mina, who had been awakened by the noise, looking a little worn but radiantly beautiful, as always. The newcomer leaned against the wall, a faint smile on her face. "Well...good to see that you're fully recovered, Darrian. May I ask what trouble you've been up to so soon after your awakening?"
Kent was nearly inarticulate with his baffled rage and confusion. "He–she–they..."
"I gather that it was something about Darrian and Seren," Mina said pleasantly, helping Darrian sit up against the pillows.
"Here I am, peacefully sleeping in chair and waiting for this–this traitor to wake up...and when I do open my eyes, they're kissing."
"Hm. It could have been worse," Mina consoled, although her eyes were twinkling wickedly. She couldn't wait to congratulate them...when Kentan was out of earshot, of course.
The black-haired man rubbed his temples, feeling them throb in anguished confusion.
"Headache?" Mina asked sweetly, offering him a cup.
Darrian drank without thinking, and when he tasted the bitter medley of herbs, he choked and started coughing. Kentan moved to pound his back slightly harder than normal, and Darrian struggled to get out of his reach, still coughing.
Mina watched these proceedings with a shake of the head. "Kent, will you relax? I'm sure it was just a...friendly kiss. Right, Darrian?" she asked pointedly.
He nodded fervently. ‘Very friendly.'
"I swear, Kent, we're only friends. I haven't touched–I would never think of touching–her."
‘At least not consciously. Personal fantasies are another thing.' The fact that his cheeks were reddening was not helping.
"She was just overcome with relief that Darrian was okay...you just didn't realize that they became close friends while you were rotting away in that dungeon. Darrian looked out for Seren when they fled from the capital, like a surrogate older brother," Mina contributed. "So of course, Seren must have been very happy that he was better. Like...I would be if Zacch got better."
‘Although I don't think I would kiss him as he was waking up.'
Kentan remained somewhat unconvinced, although he was in the process of rearranging the sheets and forcing Darrian to get back into bed before he hurt himself. "It didn't look merely ‘friendly' to me. As a matter of fact, it was a little too friendly for my tastes."
Mina approached him with a devious smile. "Is that right? Apparently, you haven't had many friendly kisses before, Kent. They go like this." And with that, she stood on her tiptoes and pressed her lips against his cheek.
Darrian watched, fascinated, as Kentan turned a fiery red and backed away from the blonde nymph. "I...er...stay there," he ordered forcefully, turning to Darrian. "I'll...go get Ami."
They watched him go with rather speculative expressions on their faces. "How long have I been asleep?" he asked of her.
"Almost a week," she replied. "We've been quite worried about you–some more than others."
Darrian ignored the barb, bent on getting some revenge after his humiliation. "So..enough time for you two to have gotten better acquainted, I see."
Mina smiled serenely. "We've reached an understanding." And that was all she would say.
****~**~****
Ami clung to one of Zacch's icy-cold hands, willing for his soul to return. She had felt, deep inside her, a terrible, ripping feeling of her own fabric as he was wrenched away. It was the most horrible thing she had ever felt.
She dashed away her tears angrily, furious at her uselessness. Before, she had been useless when the time for the first fight had arrived, and she had still been useless in the face of his illness. Now, Ami was determined that Death would not seize one so needed, as he often did. She threw all she could gather of magik into reconstructing the bond between them; in her mind, a weak, blue-green bond solidified. However, his magik was quickly fading, and she had grasped only the remnants left in the mortal world.
She didn't know to whom she spoke, and she wasn't even sure afterwards if she had spoken aloud, but she was determined that he would not leave this earth. "Bring him back!" she cried as the thread between them strained, the immense tension making it hard to maintain. As she felt that their connection was about to snap, time seemed to come to a standstill.
A glowing apparition appeared before her of a beautiful woman with long, flowing blue hair and gray-green eyes. "You have one foot in death yourself, my little naiad," Dalila Water-Bearer informed her supplicant.
"Then if I am so close myself, it should be easier for me to retrieve him. These are the terms of the prophecy, are they not? We already bound ourselves–accidentally–three years ago. Even though we haven't formally agreed to the prophecy..."
Before the goddess Dalila could reply to the distraught naiad, a second immortal whose beauty was unearthly appeared. This woman was taller, with sheets of straight blond hair and direct gray eyes. "Sister," she nodded towards Dalila. "Why are you here? And why have the messengers informed me that my Chosen has left for the realm of the dead?"
Dalila motioned towards the bed, a pearl bracelet encircling her wrist. "It is true, Silvana. The prince has indeed moved on to path to the second realm."
"It's not his time," the other goddess protested, her forehead creasing with worry.
Her sister replied in a matter of fact tone, "I can sense the flow and ebb of life within the human body, just as the tides come in and out. He is dead, and dead is dead. Only Ami's quick work holds his soul in limbo."
Silvana frowned. "We had not foreseen this development. This...is not acceptable. One of the prophecy cannot be missing."
Ami watched their discourse in frustration. The longer they delayed, the further Zacch's spirit would be along the path to the Gates. "Please," she said firmly, interrupting the two of them. They turned towards her, and as the force of their inhumane beauty and powerful eyes was turned upon her, she fell back a few steps. "He is needed, and it is not his time. Won't you bring him back?"
"You don't have the forces you are meddling with and the severity of the situation," Dalila said in a stern tone of voice.
Silvana, meanwhile, was considering. "You...are Zaccheus's Chosen, are you not? It's been some time since I've seen you, little nymph."
Ami nodded, while Dalila glanced sharply at her sister. "Do not interfere with my Chosen, Silvana," she warned.
"Mm...and such a temper you are in tonight, my usually-peaceable sister. Very well. I shall merely observe your dealings with Amity and not interfere." The blond-haired goddess stood aside, a playful smile hovering about her mouth. The worry lurked within her mind, but she sensed the will of her fellow goddess at hand.
Dalila turned her attention back to Ami. The red coral beads around her neck and ankles and the colorful seashells in her hair grew brighter as light expanded outwards from the goddess. "So you want me to bring him back? What makes you think that I have the power?"
She was able to name several instances in history, and Dalia nodded her head regally. "What you recount is true, but in those cases, my power flowed through extraordinarily gifted mortals. I did not resurrect them directly."
"Then please...channel it through me," she begged.
"Your magik is not the strongest on this earth."
"Strength and determination are two different things. The latter may augment the former, and the strength of my will is strong enough," Ami countered, although she was trembling inwardly.
Dalila considered for another moment. "What makes you worthy of being a goddess's Chosen?" she intoned softly, the words of tradition flowing from her mouth. Words of power.
Ami shivered slightly. "You Choose me," she replied simply, "to suit your purposes. Grant me the power...because I love this man."
The goddess tapped her fingers thoughtfully against her rosy mouth. "We shall make a deal, you and I. Your life-force is already in the process of following his, but you are still bound in this life.
I will give you the chance to bring him back: if you succeed, I will smooth things over with my brother, who will resent the loss of two such powerful souls in the realm of death. If you do not succeed, you know the consequences–the prophecy may remain unfulfilled without two of its ten members, and I cannot bring you back. So you must follow Zaccheus and manifest the power to bring him back before your time is up. Is this understood?"
"Yes, my lady."
Silvana's soft voice interjected. "You must formally agree to the contract, Ami."
Ami's fingers locked together as she looked up at them, her lips tight together. She had always been coolly about her abilities, but she had no idea of what she was going against. The pain of losing him was growing stronger and stronger inside her as she weakened physically.
In her mind, she clearly saw the two alternatives: one, she could remain until her short time was up and then be reunited with him in death...which could possibly mean the ruin of the world, or she could go ahead and try to bring him back. She had nothing more to lose.
The power rose above her, as if she was the spiral from which a whirlpool opened upwards. Great waves of blue magik churned about her, lit with gleaming silver sparkles. The candle blew out as the furniture rattled and the bed sheets rustled.
"Is this your answer, Amity?" Dalila prodded, her eyes fixed on Ami's as Silvana watched the great swirls of power spinning ever faster around themselves.
"...yes. I accept our contract."
****~**~****
Some time ago, Rei had stormed away from Jalen, both of them unable to express what was really going through their minds that night. She was boiling mad and stalked to the other end of the deck after discovering Lirita and Nathair talking together softly, intimately. It only reaffirmed her resolve that she and Jalen needed some time apart.
Her cheeks were flaming when a quiet voice spoke from the shadows directly by her ear, and she jumped, startled. "Are you aware that you're glowing, Miss Reisha?"
She looked down at herself and realized that her hands were indeed encapsulated with flickering, pulsating light. It was crawling upwards over her arms to her shoulders, and gold-red lights sparked furiously in the deep purple hue of her magik. Then she looked up into the hooded eyes of Matthias Raine.
He emerged slowly from the shadows, throwing back the hood of his cloak as he did so. The silvery moonlight glanced over the long scar on his cheek, and he moved with less of his usual catlike grace–he had taken a wound to the leg in the latter part of the battle.
The light faded from Rei's arms as she calmed slightly. She had never liked the ideas of strangers sensing her moods. "I'm sorry...you know my name, but I can't recall yours at the moment," she lied to recover herself.
"I'm Matthias." He offered her a large, callused palm and added, with a hint of a smile, "Matthias Raine."
Rei looked him over carefully as they shook hands. He was very handsome, in a rugged, dark sort of way. "What are you doing here so late at night?"
"It's only a half an hour past midnight," Matthias replied casually. "I've been...watching."
"Watching what?"
"You, most recently, and waiting for a number of other happenings. You seem angry. Would you like to speak of it?"
Rei's eyes flashed as she recalled her fight with Jalen. "No," she said very ungraciously.
Matthias hid a smile. "I'm sure he means well."
"His definition of ‘well' differs vastly of mine. Since you seem to empathize with him, why don't you go and share you sympathies with him? And were you eavesdropping??"
"I have no intention of sharing any of my sympathies with anyone at the moment," he said smoothly. "And just because you and Jalen Eridian were speaking loud enough for the whole ship to hear doesn't mean I listen at doorways."
She flushed again. They had been arguing at a rather loud volume. In a softer voice, she asked half-rhetorically, "So what if he means well? He's become extremely overprotective after our foray onto the palace grounds, and it's grating on my nerves. He has to stop treating me like a child."
‘I'm his equal. Why can't he see that?'
"Maybe he's realized what you mean to him. Battles have a funny way of doing that, you know. They make you realize your mortality and the mortality of those around you–makes you appreciate them more, if you know that at any moment, you could lose them."
"I don't plan on dying anytime soon," she snapped, wrapping her arms around her shoulders to ward off the chill his plainly-spoken words had thrown over her.
"I didn't say you were. Accidents happen."
She sat against the wall where they had huddled when the queen's archers were shooting at visible targets on the deck and let out a disgusted sigh. "It doesn't give him the leave to run my life. And he's infuriatingly contradictory! First it's ‘Oh, love is a wonderful thing. Find a good man who thinks you're beautiful, all right?' but now he says ‘Watch out, all men are evil liars to whom women don't mean a thing. You're not in your secluded little temple with just those menfolk now.' Am I the only person who thinks there's something wrong with his line of thinking?"
Matthias laughed openly now, which was a rare thing for him. He eased himself to the ground beside her with a grunt, straightening out his injured leg. "I'm sure he just wants to protect a pretty little thing like you."
Rei turned her head to glare at him. Tartly, she protested, "I'm not little, nor am I a ‘thing.'"
He grinned. "I notice you don't protest to the ‘pretty' part, and you should. As your friend Eridian says, it should be ‘beautiful.'"
She felt her face start to heat up. "You're not so much older than me. Are you?" she added as an afterthought, ignoring his previous comments.
"Let me see...well, that would depend on how old you are, but I am definitely your senior, I assure you."
"Answer the question, if you please."
"And if I don't please?" he laughed at her. "But I won't tease–at least, not so much at once. Your temper has to learn to absorb these minor barbs, you know. I was born in the year 1103."
Rei considered for a minute. "You're only five years older than I am."
"But a good five years more mature–I think Jalen would agree with me on that."
Incensed, she snapped, "Age doesn't always bring maturity."
He sighed. "All right, Reisha, I'll stop provoking you now. You respond much too easily, and if I laugh, you might hit me, and I don't want to chance that."
She glanced at him suspiciously, but there was no trace of laughter on his face. Instead, his attention seemed to have been drawn away from her, and he appeared to be judging the angle of the moon to them. "Is something wrong?"
"Remember when I told you before," he said, his voice soft, "that I was watching–waiting–for some happenings? It's just about time now. There are goddesses at work tonight." He let out a low whistle. "Beautiful goddesses. Have you ever seen one, Reisha?"
"What? How do you know–how did you see them?"
Matthias responded in the same dreamy tone, "Oh, here and there. I would have thought that you'd have seen Valencia, though. After all, she's the patron of your house."
Rei scrambled to her feet, the lines of her body tense. "What did you say?!" she demanded.
He shrugged, the faraway look on his face fading rapidly. "If you didn't hear it, it's not important."
"Fine, I heard it! How did you know that?!" She was panicked and more than a little annoyed by his enigmatic manner.
Matthias got to his feet as well and started walking away from her. Over his shoulder, he called softly, "You really should consider choosing a less visible name, Reisha. Zuriel is quite uncommon among us mountain folk."
****~**~****
‘Do not worry,' Silvana's voice said in Ami's ear, her sweet and bell-like tones resonating with promise and power. ‘Another one is coming to help you both. He, too, is a Chosen, and he will be in no danger.'
Vaguely, Ami wondered who Silvana was speaking of, but her complete attention was needed for the magikal working she had begun. With a flick of her pearl-encircled wrists, Dalila Water-Bearer transferred Ami to the Pathway of the Dead.
The first thing that registered in her mind was the cold–that and the thick, moist grayness all around her. She waved her hand in the air gently and watched the air currents ripple sluggishly. Ami walked forward, her bare feet squelching in the viscous mud that dragged at every pore of her. With every step she took, she felt weaker and weaker. ‘What's happening to me?' she wondered.
Dalila's voice spoke in her mind, but the goddess herself was nowhere to be seen. ‘Extended contact with the Pathway of the Dead drains your life-force, Amity. The longer you remain here, the more of your life you lose. Hurry, child.' With those words, her sense of Dalila vanished.
She stood alone, feeling abandoned and frightened, but she forced herself to walk faster and faster through the muck. Warmth flowed through her as the shimmering green line leading her to Zacch grew brighter as she got closer to him. Suddenly, the grey mists parted to reveal Zaccheus, standing tall and straight, in the pink of health. "Zacch?" she whispered.
He turned to face her, his face cold and impassive. Without warning, he raised his hand and hurled a glowing sphere of light at her.
Ami tried to run, but the filth that had mired her down clung to her ankles. The spell ripped through her body, sending currents of white-hot agony through her. When the paid receded at last, she blinked to clear her vision, her eyes full of tears. "It isn't him," she said aloud, her voice choked.
The ground beneath her solidified to packed dirt, and the light grew dimmer. Ami shrank back with a shriek from the gravestones that appeared around her and from the hollow-eyed skeletons at the side of the path. Flames burst into life on either side of her, and cacophonous, hair-raising cackles and howls sounded from every direction.
The copy of Zacch walked towards her, preparing to attack once more. This time, she threw up a tunnel of water to deflect the attack. It rebounded on the spell-caster but did no harm. Another globe of light, burning a deep maroon hue, threw her back several feet. Ami slammed into a wall that had suddenly appeared. Uneven brick corners cut jagged slashes in her back, and when she staggered to her feet, she tasted blood in her mouth.
An image that must have been goddess-sent appeared before her eyes–Zaccheus, the real Zaccheus, his eyes filled with laughter as he reached out for her. Ami closed her eyes, savoring the almost-real memory of his touch, remembering the feeling of his lips upon hers. Her eyes snapped open as her nemesis prepared yet another attack.
This time, she dodged the grasping, skeletal hands and gathered the roiling storm of strength within her. When she could hold no more in her cupped hands, she flung her transparent orbs of blue power at him. They surrounded him, seemingly useless for a moment, until he exploded into nothingness.
****~**~****
‘...still can't believe...preposterous...innocent little Seren...friendly my...'
Kentan rapped on the door, frowning slightly when he heard no answer. It was possible that Ami had fallen asleep during her vigil; she had been looking pale and drawn recently. However, she was usually a light sleeper. He had a sneaking suspicion that she had been running her magik low, an occurrence which tended to send magik users into deep sleep once they had used up a certain amount of their life-force. After a second series of knocks, he turned the knob and entered the room.
His smoky gray eyes widened when he saw Ami lying on the floor; he hurried over to her and shook her gently, trying to wake her. There was no response, and when he lifted one of her eyelids, he saw that her eyes had rolled backwards in her head. Oddly enough, her breath and heart-rate were very fast. Kent picked her up and looked to see where he could place her limp form...when he noticed Zaccheus's deathly-white pallor. "By the gods...what happened here?"
A sparkle in the brightest corner of the room caught his eye, and a beautiful woman with golden hair appeared. She held out her arms to take Ami, and automatically, Kentan placed her unconscious form in her arms, not in the least suspicious of the breathtaking visage. "Kentan Divine....you are come at last, and just in time."
"Who are you? How do you know my name?"
She smiled mysteriously. "You are well known to me, Kentan, and I to you. This is no time for introductions...they need you now."
He felt more confused than ever. "Who needs me?"
Silvana Green-Mage snapped her fingers, and Ami was levitated towards the bed, deposited next to Zaccheus's still form. She snapped her fingers again, and Kentan was transported to the Pathway of the Dead.
****~**~****
He stumbled in midair, a foot above the mire that Ami was sunk in. Kentan's expression was one of appalled shock as he spotted her collapsed on the ground. She was chalk-white, and a thin trickle of vermillion red blood ran from the corner of her mouth. Her hair was lusterless and limp; the color seemed to have been leeched out of her. "Ami!" he called, trying to move towards her but finding himself held fast.
"What's happened to her?" Kentan demanded of Silvana.
The goddess's voice was soft and somber as she answered, "She weakened herself for many days beforehand when she should have been recuperating. She expended a great deal of energy in her healing, and then she continued to probe your injuries, restore Darrian's strength, and pour magik into Zaccheus–that in itself was a useless task. It was a goddess's will that he not recover."
"Yours?" he asked harshly.
Silvana shook her head in denial. "Not by my decree, Kentan Divine." She drew his attention back to Ami. "Help her now, Kentan. Your magik has fully replenished itself, and you yourself recognize its potency–unparalleled among mortals except for a select few. They shall be revealed to you in due time...but for now, what is required of you is that you lend her your strength. In a moment, I will remove the spell that freezes you in place. Whether or not you succeed here may determine the course of the future.'"
Before he could say anything else, she snapped her fingers again. Instead of the usual sound, silvery bells chimed in his ears, and a pale green light passed from her fingers in a spark; it enlarged and washed over him in a wave of light. When Kent opened his eyes, Silvana was gone and he could move again.
He knelt by Ami's side and took one of her cold hands, watching intently as his power flowed into her body: it was a turbulent, stormy gray lit with bright silver glints, contained into a neat cylinder of magik only by the strength of his control. He saw how her own magik was augmented by his: the pale blue was enriched and gradually deepened in color.
Ami stirred faintly at first and then got to her feet, fairly glowing with vitality. She looked at him for a long second. ‘Thank you, Kentan,' she murmured before closing her eyes in concentration. There was no need for physical sight on the Pathway of the Dead...
He waited patiently, standing as a solid bulwark against the other phantoms and phantasms hovering around them. Neither of them noticed that she had been able to speak mind-to-mind with him.
All of a sudden, her sensible cotton skirt lifted slightly at the edges; an unseen wind ruffled her sleeves and hair. A glowing figure appeared in the distance, and as it came closer and closer, Kentan was able to define him as the elfin prince who he had not yet been introduced to. Zacch's eyes were closed, but he looked alive and well. Ami's power was towing him towards them, but a great rift suddenly opened between them.
She released him just as he approached the edge of the abyss, and Kentan held back a shudder as he looked down into its bottomless black depths. Zacch's eyes opened, and he stared at the two of them disbelievingly.
‘Cross the rift. If you make it across...we can return to the world of the living,' Kentan told him.
A quick smile flitted over his face, and he nodded at him, to this human prince that he had not formally met. Zacch gathered the remnants of his power, his gaze focused on Ami's taut form. Slowly, slowly, he floated across the divide...until at the very last moment, an oozing, ebony-black tendril of shadow wrapped around his waist and held him fast.
"No!" Ami cried before flinging all of the power she had Kentan had amassed at the shapeless menace.
Channeling half of his power to Ami through the link they were still connected by, Kentan flung up a glistening, opaque shield in front Zaccheus faster than he thought he was capable of just as the tendril jerked him in Ami's direction, intending that its victim take the brunt of the attack.
The great pool of power streamed over Kent's shield and crashed into the shadow with the force of a tsunami...and they returned to the world of light.
****~**~****
Author's Note: Sorry, sorry...one more chapter after this–the epilogue. And no more dragging things out, really!! I also apologize for the long delay >.< Please forgive any incongruities...I'm afraid my writing has become slightly rusty after so much time ;;
Touched on some interesting things in this chapter...the question of raising the dead and whether this is possible in this world. Reincarnation is a big part of the SM world, but I hadn't really planned to touch it before...but I thought it might be more surprising to have Zacch actually die. Plot twists ^^; I also realize that a number of you don't really like new characters...that are not part of the SM world (forgot the term for this, sorry!). Matthias Raine is a crucial part of the plot, so he's not leaving for some time...his role will be more fully explained as time goes on.
Thank you to everyone for your support and keeping up with the story! Thank you!!
~Ice
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