The sobering look in his eyes gave her pause. “What do you mean? What do you have to do?”
“You have to put your trust in me. No questions. You will have to put your life in my hands and let me do as I must.”
Magda swallowed back her rising sense of alarm and nodded.
“We really have no choice. We’re running out of time. Do it.”
He touched her cheek. “I wish there were another way, Magda, but if we’re to do this now, there is no other way.”
With a hand on her shoulder, Merritt gently eased her back against the trunk of the massive oak. Dark, crooked arms of branches stretched out overhead like some great monster about to embrace her in its clutches. The moon cast a cold, eerie light across the angular features of Merritt’s handsome face.
Magda heard a rustling sound and looked up to one of the great branches of the ancient oak. There, perched in a crook on the limb, a raven ruffled its feathers.
She looked into the raven’s black eyes as it sat quietly watching her. The last time she had seen a raven had been down in the maze when the dead man had been chasing her.
Merritt slowly drew the sword. The sound of the blade rang through the night, drawing her gaze back to him.
Magda wet her lips. “What are you going to do?”
“Use the Sword of Truth to help you be reborn a Confessor.”
Magda’s concern was growing by the second. “Reborn? How? What are you going to do with it?”
He almost seemed to be looking out at her from a distant world. “Do you trust me?”
She wished he wouldn’t keep asking her that. “I told you that I do.”
“Then please, Magda, don’t ask.”
She nodded. “I’m sorry. Tell me what you need me to do.”
With one hand, Merritt pressed her shoulders back against the tree. “I need you to let me do what I must.”
With the sword in his other hand, he placed the tip of the blade in the center of her chest.
She could see so much more in his hazel eyes than merely the glow of his gift. His eyes were gentle, yet at the same time they were charged with fierce intensity. More than that, though, she could see wisdom, integrity, competence, and the sort of rage she’d never seen before. Some of that, she knew, was coming from the Sword of Truth. Some, though, was all his.
She had seen the hint of that rage when she had first met him and told him that Isidore was dead. His was a temper that had the potential to be devastatingly violent, and yet at the same time he was also a man able to control it and focus it.
He was focusing it now.
Combined with the rage from the sword, such fury was frightening to behold.
Magda glanced down and saw the blade glowing white.
“Merritt...”
The blade turned from a white glow to an inky black that was like looking into the depths of the underworld. The air around her crackled with threads of light, both the pure white light of Additive Magic, and the sinister void of Subtractive. They wrapped her in a cocoon of magic that dimmed the world.
Magda couldn’t seem to stop herself from trembling.
“Merritt...”
“Are you sure about this, Magda? Are you certain?”
Behind the shadow of quiet sorrow, she could see love in his eyes.
“Yes. With all my heart and soul. Who I was, who I will be, is in your hands.”
“Tonight, Magda Searus, you are reborn a Confessor.” A tear ran down his cheek. “If I fail, may the good spirits take me, for I would not want to live in a world without you.”
She blinked in surprise at his words.
Glowing white light and inky black darkness rolled up the length of the blade in dizzying, undulating waves.
“Now you must trust me,” he said with finality.
Magda wet the roof of her mouth with her tongue. “I do, Merritt. I trust you with my life.”
And then, as he held her shoulders back against the tree, he pushed the sword straight through her heart.
Thunder without sound silently shook the world around her.
Oak leaves and pine needles rained down in the forest all around as dust rose in a rapidly expanding ring spreading away into the night.
Magda’s eyes went wide in shock at what he had just done.
She let out a last scream as she died.
Chapter 89
People had gathered in great numbers. They crowded around the towering, polished black marble columns to each side of the gallery leading toward the council chambers and gathered beside the statues of robed figures, leaning around the people in front of them, rising up on tiptoes, all trying to see.
The soft rumble of their collective voices echoed from the vaulted ceiling hung with a procession of long, red silk banners meant to represent the blood that had been shed in defense of the people of the Midlands. The carpet, with the names of battles woven along the edges, was also red, meant to be a reminder of the struggles fought and the lives laid down so that others might live.
This day was no less a battle for the survival of the Midlands, a battle for the survival of all innocent lives in peril. Before the day was done, there was a good chance that more blood would be shed in that seemingly endless battle for survival.
Magda wore a blank expression, showing no emotion as she strode in a measured pace past the gathered throngs.
The drone of voices and light laughter withered to whispers before falling silent as she passed, leaving a hush in her wake.
People gawked as she marched past them, stone-faced, her eyes fixed ahead, looking neither left nor right. None of the people staring could have imagined the charge of power seething somewhere deep inside her.
It had at first been an alien power, a terrifying monster within. At first, when she had again become aware after that terrible, timeless voyage through darkness, she hadn’t known what to expect and didn’t know what she was supposed to do. Since she was ungifted, she had never experienced any power at her control, at her beck and call, much less a power like this.
Somewhere, at some point, that inner force had ceased to be a stranger to her.
Somewhere in the night, it had become a part of her, as if it had always been there and she had merely become aware of it.
It was no longer an alien force within her. It now was her.
She was also aware from the first that it was a power that sought release. It required her to master it continually, to restrain it. Merritt had assured her that as time went on it would become easier and feel natural, like breathing. But at that moment it had ached to be set free and she’d had to keep a tight rein on it. As he had promised, that need had eased.
She had never felt such a thing before, and had no idea what to expect when she eventually did release it. Merritt had offered some advice based on some of the component elements, but to a large extent he didn’t know either.
As she entered the great rotunda not far from the council chambers, Magda saw spectators crowded all through the enormous room, all hoping to get a glimpse of the grand event, a look at the arrival of the future wife of the future First Wizard.
Afternoon sunlight flooded in through the high windows around the lower border of the golden dome, making the towering reddish marble pillars around the edge of the room glow. Between the columns, against the stone wall, along with the throngs of people, the imposing statues of past leaders watched her pass.
The great mahogany doors to the council chambers stood open, flanked by rows of the Home Guard in spotless uniforms and polished armor, all standing at attention. Through the open door Magda could see even more people crowded into the vast council chambers. Bluish shafts of hazy sunlight slanting into the room gave the inner chamber a kind of reverent glow, an anticipation, to the impending ceremony.
Magda marched alone through slanting streamers of sunlight and down the runner of blue and gold carpet leading off toward her waiting betrothed and the council.
With her thumb, she turned the ring Merritt had given her, feeling the raised ridges of the design, a symbol of strength and a reminder of what was at stake.
The balconies below the windows were packed full with observers, all dressed in their finery. The open floor beneath the shadow of the balconies was likewise packed with important people as well as military men in dress uniforms accompanied by clusters of staff, officials in dignified robes with color-coded bands to denote rank and position, wizards and sorceresses in simple robes, and aids accompanying well-dressed, important women. A beaming General Grundwall stood at the head of his officers. Commanders Rendall and Morgan were there as well.
Troops in green tunics, the soldiers under the authority of the prosecutor’s office, stood at attention at regular intervals around the room. It was unusual that there were no Home Guard standing guard in the council chambers, as there had been all throughout the gallery and the great rotunda.
Magda, her face expressionless, marched onward through the room, down the long blue and gold carpet and through isolated patches of sunlight. Quinn stood near the front of the room watching her approach. Magda spotted Naja, partly hidden behind Quinn, wearing a hooded cloak that did a good job of shadowing her face and concealing her black hair. Councilman Sadler was closer to the front. He smiled and gave Magda a meaningful look when he saw her. Though she saw both out of the corner of her eye, she returned neither. Her face was a mask that showed nothing.
Emotion did not play a part in truth, only reality did.
A Confessor was about truth, not emotion.
In the distance, atop the dais, the council sat at the long, curved, ornate desk. Staff and assistants sat close by. Even more people stood behind. As Magda approached, she could see Elder Cadell sitting in the tallest chair in the center, as well as the rest of the council, minus Councilman Sadler.
Merritt was nowhere to be seen. Since the troops from the prosecutor’s office had arrested him, the sight of him in the council chambers was likely to spark a battle, so he was remaining hidden. But Merritt hadn’t wanted to be too far away.
She saw the glint of steel in the deep shadows between the pillars behind the council. Magda expected that it was the Sword of Truth she was seeing. At least, she hoped it was.
Lothain, in his elaborate, silk brocade ceremonial robes of office, stood in the center of the dais where everyone could see him. The desk of the council framed him in its half circle. His black eyes watched her approach.
As Lothain stepped to the left side of the dais, several officials in gold robes intercepted Magda. She was surprised to be stopped by them. Not knowing what was going on, she let them guide her to the right side of the dais, where they directed her to turn to face Lothain. One of them whispered to her that she was to stand there for the ceremony.
This wasn’t what she had expected. She needed to be closer to Lothain. She had expected to be standing at his side. She needed to be close. She needed to be able to touch him.
She wasn’t far. She considered trying to run at him in order to touch him, but Lothain was acting unusually cautious, which was making her suspicious. He had forced her to agree to the marriage. He was well aware that she was not happy about it. She guessed that he might fear that she would try to assassinate him with a knife. But she had no knife on her. There was no place for it in the dress the seamstresses had made for her overnight. Other than her power, she was unarmed.
Lothain wouldn’t know that, though. If she ran toward him, he was likely to fear an attack and use his gift to drop her halfway there. He was so close, but he was far enough away to kill her if he wanted and she would never get her chance.
Magda didn’t know what to do. If she couldn’t touch him, she couldn’t use her power. If she couldn’t use her power, her entire plan was dead.
She had the growing sense that something was very wrong.
Lothain’s smirk seemed to confirm her suspicion.
Chapter 90
Magda did her best to curb her anxiety and tried not to let herself be distracted by worry that her entire plan was unraveling. She reasoned that as the wedding ceremony began, perhaps after Lothain was installed as First Wizard, the council would have to bring the two of them together to be married. That had always been the procedure. She reasoned that it only made sense that he was to be installed as First Wizard before he took his wife. She would just have to be patient.
Still, she had the sense that something wasn’t right.
“Why are you in a white dress?” Lothain asked in a low voice from where he stood watching her from a dozen feet way. It was clear that he was not pleased but he didn’t want the crowd to hear him. “I told you to pick any color but white.”
“This is the day of my rebirth. White is perfect for the occasion.”
When he glanced deliberately from her face to her chest and then back up again, he did not look pleased. She knew that he had ordered the neckline to show ample cleavage.
“It looks awfully plain,” he grumbled. “And... modest for such a grand event.”
“Are you more interested in the dress than what is in it, then?”
Lothain’s gaze drifted down the length of her again, at the way the dress was cut to fit her every curve. The sight brought his own private, unreadable thoughts behind his black eyes.
The dress, made of the satiny white material she had selected, was unadorned. The women who had made it had followed Magda’s instructions perfectly in every detail. It hugged her curves in a way that gave it a feminine elegance no amount of lace and needlework embellishment could have matched.
The neckline was cut square. It complemented the cut of the dress perfectly and added to the grace of the design. It was a dress unlike any Magda had ever seen. For that matter, it was unlike anything anyone in the room had seen, and that was just what Magda had wanted to accomplish. Rather than draw attention to itself in an attempt to define beauty, it instead revealed the underlying beauty of the woman wearing it.
But it was meant to be more than simply an unexpected look for a dress. It was meant to be a lasting symbol.
It was a Confessor’s dress.
Lothain flashed her a sly smile before turning his attention to the crowd.
“This was to be a joyous occasion,” he said in a voice loud enough to carry across the sprawling room. The crowd quieted, looking unsure at what he meant. “I’m afraid that while I am to be installed as First Wizard, and that will go forward, there will be no wedding.”
Their unspoken question answered, the crowd erupted in chatter. Much of it unhappy at the news. Magda stood as stunned as everyone else. Lothain held his hands up, calling for silence.
“I’m sorry to have to inform you of this at this late moment, but I have only just learned the truth a short time ago, learned that Magda Searus had ulterior motives for agreeing to marry me. In truth, she harbored a monstrous reason.
“Her deadly plan was devious in its simplicity. It turns out that she only wanted to marry me so that she could bed me as her husband.”
Lothain let the scattering of chuckles spread, only to die out when he didn’t join in. Magda could sense, more than she saw, soldiers closing in behind her. There was nowhere to run.
“She wanted to bed me as her husband,” he said in a clear voice that everyone could hear, an accusatory tone honed as head prosecutor, “because she planned to stab me to death in the night. She only wanted to marry me to be able to get past those brave men who protect me, get close enough so that she could assassinate me as I slept beside her.”
He lifted an arm toward her as he gazed out over the crowd. “You see, Magda Searus is a traitor. But she is no ordinary traitor. She is the architect of all the strange murders that have been taking place here at the Keep.”
He held up a hand, forestalling the questions. “I’ve thoroughly investigated her nefarious activities. Multiple witnesses have come forth. They testified to having seen her sneaking around in the night, hiding her face, meeting with mysterious people in the shadows.”
Magda stared toward the man. Two of Lothain’s private guards seized her arms from behind, preventing her from getting closer to Lothain.
“You accuse me of treason because I was seen outside at night? Where is your proof of such a charge!” Magda called across the dais.
“Proof? You would like the proof?” He cast a glance across the stunned crowd watching rapt attention. “Yes, I think proof is in order.”
He gestured off over the heads of people standing behind the council desk, and men dragged someone forward out of the shadows. It was Tilly. The woman was covered in filth and blood. Her bloodied face hung nearly lifeless, as did her broken arm.
“This woman,” Lothain said, “is a worker here in the Keep. Perhaps many of you have seen her, thinking nothing of her comings and goings. It turns out that she was a clever criminal, but we were finally able to get her to admit to her part in the crimes Lady Searus has committed against the Midlands. She long helped Baraccus with his schemes and then later Lady Searus in her plans. She guided Lady Searus through the lower reaches of the Keep, where together they murdered our spiritist.”
The crowd gasped. People had heard the terrifying stories of Isidore’s murder. Whispers broke out, swelling to fill the council chambers.
Magda said nothing. She knew it was useless. No one was going to listen to her, and besides, Lothain would simply use his gift to silence her. She could release her power on the men holding her, but that would waste it. Merritt had warned her that using the Confessor’s power would sap her strength and she likely would need to rest for hours, possibly days, before being able to summon it again.
She didn’t want to waste her one chance with her only weapon on the soldiers holding her. That would accomplish nothing. She looked to the shadows, wondering if Merritt would do something. With all the gifted and armed men in the room, it would be foolish to try just then, but knowing Merritt that didn’t mean that he wouldn’t.
Lothain held up a hand again, calling for quiet. “This woman confessed the entire plot.” He turned to Tilly and lifted her chin. “Isn’t that right?”
Tilly’s fearful eyes turned from him to Magda. Tears started coursing tracks down through the dirt on her face.
“Say what he wants you to say,” Magda told the woman in a quiet, confidential voice. “It is useless for you to speak the truth right now. Tell him what he wants to hear.”
Tilly looked shamefaced. “But...”
“I know what they’ve done to you,” Magda whispered, “and I don’t blame you. Don’t throw your life away for nothing of value. Tell them what they want to hear.”
“The truth has value,” Tilly whispered.
“It will,” Magda assured her, “but not from you, not right now. Do as I ask. Say what he wishes you to say.”
Tilly looked out at the crowd, tears streaming down her face. “What Prosecutor Lothain says be the...” She couldn’t say the word. “It is as he says. We both be traitors.”
“Traitors,” Lothain added in a loud voice, “that she admitted have killed a number of our most valuable people. There is no just verdict for such crimes except execution!”
Chapter 91
Some in the crowd lifted fists, shouting their anger that this was the source of the mysterious murders, the war going so poorly, and all their other troubles, echoing the sentiment that both Tilly and Magda should be executed immediately.
Others in the crowd, though, looked disheartened, distraught, and confused by what was happening. This was to have been the day of a joyous wedding, of the Keep coming together in unity, a reason for hope in the midst of troubled times.
A few people broke out in tears. Others turned their faces away. They had believed in Magda as well as Baraccus, and now that confidence was shaken or even shattered. Magda could see in the tormented expressions that some people felt that their faith had been betrayed.
“Why would Lady Searus do all this?” Elder Cadell asked from behind the desk, his voice carrying out over the crowd.
“You see,” Lothain explained, “her plan all along was to discredit me.” He turned from the elder to the audience. “She knew how effective I’ve been as head prosecutor. I’ve ferreted out, prosecuted, and executed a number of her fellow conspirators. I was getting too close to the heart of the plot and she feared I would uncover her deadly plans. She wanted to stop me from exposing the rest of the traitors here at the Keep so that they could continue to sabotage our efforts, so she made wild accusations about me, hoping not only to throw me off track but to damage my ability to do my duty to our people.
“When so many of you good people maintained your steadfast faith in me, that plan failed to work out as well as she had hoped. She became impatient and decided to use her feminine wiles to worm her way into my life, taking the route of my heart. I believed her sincerity at first, as did so many of you, but in the end I came to see through her schemes.”
Some in the crowd shouted angrily for Magda’s head.
Magda maintained the mask that showed nothing.
Even though the soldiers were holding her by her arms, she managed to lift her hand out enough that the crowd could see that she meant for them to see the ring she was wearing.
“The symbol on this ring is at the heart of what is happening,” she said to the people watching. “Lothain and those he is loyal to seek to breach this. If they succeed, you will all die, but that will not be the end of your suffering. If they breach this, your souls will never be able to join the good spirits. They will instead wander between worlds, forever lost.”
The wave of worried murmurs started in again. She knew that none in the crowd could see what was on the ring, but it succeeded in stirring their curiosity. Lothain couldn’t help but notice.
“What is that you have, there?” he demanded.
“Something you fear,” Magda said with a defiant smile.
When Lothain saw the smile he stormed across the dais.
“Let me see that.” He gestured to the soldiers to release her arms so that she could show him the ring. “You heard me, let me see what it is you have there.”
Magda lifted her hand to show him the ring with the Grace, but she kept it just out of his reach.
“This? Merritt gave it to me.”
He had given it to her when she had come back from beyond the veil. She had traveled the lines of the Grace and returned. She had lived what the Grace represented.
She’d told him that she knew she was safe in his hands, that she knew he would protect her. That was when he had given her the ring. He said he wanted her to have it as a symbol of his protection.
It meant more to her than anything she had ever been given.
It meant everything to her.
“Merritt? Merritt is a traitor and has been arrested as well,” Lothain said out toward the crowd before turning back to Magda. “Why would he give such an important and sacred object to you, to a nobody?”
Magda arched an eyebrow. “A nobody? He gave it to me because I am a protector of the Grace.” She pulled her hand back out of his reach when he grabbed for it again. “Because I am a champion of truth.”
“Champion of truth? You’re a nobody!”
“If I was a nobody you wouldn’t be so eager to see me dead. Just like these people here, you know that I am devoted to the truth. That’s why you want to eliminate me.”
“You are a nobody! Worse than a nobody, you’re a traitor devoted only to murdering our people and you will be executed for your crimes! Now give that to me!”
Lothain charged forward like an angry bull that was being repeatedly taunted. He reached out again, snatching for her hand.
Magda again pulled the hand back, drawing him onward in a rush. Then, in an instant, she reversed her retreat and stepped into his charge.
Magda planted her hand in the center of his barrel chest, becoming a wall against his full weight.
In that instant, he had made the last mistake of his life: he had let her touch him.
Magda knew that it was not necessary for her to invoke the power within her. It was hers, now, always there. She had but to release her restraint of it.
She felt no pressure of his advance against her hand because the world had already stopped in the instant that she made contact. Lothain might as well have been a feather coming at her.
Time was hers.
This was the man who, along with his fellow spies, directed the dream walkers toward the minds they wanted to sneak into and snatch. This was the man, along with his fellow spies, who awakened the dead and sent them out in the night to kill people. This was the man who had sent one of the walking dead to tear Isidore apart.
This was not the prosecutor who protected the people of the Midlands from those doing evil, this was the vicious enemy who plotted against them, who planned their demise, who served evil.
And now he was hers.
The inner violence of her power’s cold, coiled force slipping its bonds was breathtaking. Unleashed, that power exploded through her, surging up from the depths of the dark core deep within, obediently inundating every fiber of her being.
It was a dead silent, pristine instant of the ignition of a fierce new power unleashed into the world for the first time. Nothing would ever be the same—for Lothain, or for Magda.
She contained no hate, no rage, no horror, no sorrow... no mercy. In that infinitesimal spark of time, her mind was a void where there was no emotion, only the all-consuming rush of her power through the void of time suspended.
He had no chance, none at all. He was hers.
Time was hers.
Magda could see beads of his sweat suspended in air. She could have counted every dark hair of his stubble before he moved half the width of one of those hairs.
She could see the first hint of terror in his black eyes.
She could see that, while he didn’t yet comprehend how, he was beginning to realize that he had just made the biggest mistake of his life. Even as he wanted to draw back from her touch, there was no chance. He might as well have been carved from stone.
Magda could see the gift in his eyes, too, but it would do him no good. His mind would be gone before he had time to begin to form a thought of how to defend himself.
Like a room of thousands of mute statues, everyone watched, but Magda was focused on this man who had done so much harm, who intended so much more. Behind her, the soldiers were also frozen in place even as they reached for her, but they, too, had no chance to close the distance and make it to her.
Magda was in a silent world of her own.
In that spark of time, her power suddenly became all.
Thunder without sound jolted the air around her.
The violence of it was magnificent, immaculate, glorious.
As the world came crashing back, the heavy concussion raced outward in a ring, knocking the soldiers near her off their feet. People close to the dais screamed as they toppled back from the impact of the power exploding outward in an ever-expanding circle.
When it ended, the people who had been closest were on the floor, rolling around, crying out in pain, clutching their aching joints. Those not quite as close staggered back but were able to stay on their feet and weren’t in as much pain. Those farther back fared better yet, showing little sign of being hurt.
Lothain, showing no signs of pain at all, dropped to his knees before Magda, looking up with new eyes, eyes that revealed only the wish to please her.
“Mistress, command me.”
The two closest soldiers, still struggling to recover from the pain, managed to get to their feet. They both drew weapons as they lurched toward her.
Merritt, having appeared from the shadows not far away, thrust his left arm out, palm up. At the same time as he was launching magic with his left hand, he was drawing his sword with his right. The bolt of power he hurled streaked across the dais, the air wavering in its wake, and slammed into the two men with the force of an avalanche. Both men disintegrated in blackened bits of flesh and bone. As they hit the floor, unrecognizable, gooey, sooty fragments spilled out from their uniforms and across the floor in the direction they had been running. There was nothing recognizable left. The air smelled of burned flesh and hair.
It was a staggering demonstration of power that stopped a few of the men in green tunics in their tracks. Magda had never seen the gift used in such a shocking way. She wasn’t sure if anyone in the room had.
Other soldiers, though, off to the sides and farther away, big men, angry and eager to fight, raced forward to take out the threat that had felled their fellow soldiers. Merritt was already spinning, sword already arcing around. When the blade caught the men, the air exploded with a fog of blood. Bone fragments hit the columns with a sickening sound. Merritt was in a full rage unleashed.
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