The Destroyer of Worlds (13 page)

“Does Wycliffe even know about it?” said Ally. 

“He knows about the bomb, aye,” said Alastarius, “but he does not know what use Marugon intends for it, and he does not really care. Wycliffe has what he wants, the vice-presidency of the United States and a puppet president to control. Wycliffe wants Marugon gone.”

“The fool,” said Ally, “the miserable murdering fool.” 

“Wycliffe’s folly,” said Alastarius, “though he knows it not, will have terrible consequences for both himself and countless others.”

“You have to stop him,” said Ally. “Marugon can’t set off that bomb…”

“I?” Alastarius pointed at himself. “I am dead, child. I died years ago. My spirit lingers on until my charge is fulfilled, but I cannot affect the world of the living. I can only watch, observe, and advise.”

“Lithon,” said Ally, swallowing. “You Prophesied about Lithon. You said he would overthrow Marugon. It’s not too late…”

Alastarius sighed. “Lithon will play some part, I have no doubt, but he is just a boy. He will become a great man, should he survive the next few days. But for now he is just a boy Marugon could crush with a thought.” Alastarius sighed. “No, Ally. My child. If Marugon is to be stopped, then it is up to you.”

Ally stared at the old man for a long moment. “Me?”

“Yes. I was the mightiest Wizard of my time, the mightiest Wizard in centuries,” said Alastarius. “And my powers have passed on to you, Ally, all of them. Do you not yet see? Your life was the goal of my machinations, my Prophecies. Someone had to survive. Someone had to possess the strength to battle Marugon, even after he had destroyed the Knights and the High Kingdoms and the White Council. Marugon thinks he has slain everyone who can possibly oppose him. He has not. You have the strength to face him and defeat him.”

Ally shook her head. “How? I have the white magic, but I cannot use it. At least not well enough to fight Marugon. Even Goth-Mar-Dan could stop me from using it.” Her physical peril seemed distant now, insignificant next to the ruin Marugon threatened to bring. 

“Conmager tried to teach you, but his skills are limited.” Alastarius paused. “The night I appeared to you and the others. I would have told you everything. But it was your power that had brought me there. You did not want to hear what I had to say, and your mind pushed me away. Not consciously, of course, but it did nonetheless. Conmager cannot teach you what you need to know.”

“Then how?” said Ally. 

“There is a way,” said Alastarius. “You’ve experienced some of my memories. That is only a part of what I’ve passed onto you. All of my memories rest within your mind. You have struggled against them for as long as you can remember. But if you were to embrace them…”

“Then I would have the skill to wield the white magic,” said Ally. She stared at the mist for a long time. “What would happen to me? Would I stop being me? Would I become you?”

“No,” said Alastarius. “I am dead. I cannot live again. You would remain you. But you would remember my life as if you have lived it yourself, though as a spectator.”

“Like a movie in my head,” said Ally. 

“Essentially, yes. You would have skills you did not before,” said Alastarius, “not the least of which is the white magic. Your personality may change. But your mind is powerful, and it is yours. You will remain who you are.” 

Ally snorted. “No, I won’t.” She was silent for a moment. “I don’t really have any choice, do I?” 

“No. The choice is yours. I cannot force you to do this.”

Ally turned, face him. “Then I choose to do this.”

Alastarius smiled. “As you wish. Farewell, Allara Marentine, my granddaughter. We shall not meet again for many years.”

Her grandfather stepped towards her, raised his hands, and stepped into her.

Ally shuddered. 

Her nerves crawled and twitched. Something deep within her mind, something that had always remained closed, shattered open. 

A storm of memories flooded through her. She remembered Alastarius’s life as if it was her own. 

She remembered Alastarius striding through the woods, a younger Sir Liam at his side as they spoke of many things…

She remembered Marugon coming before Alastarius, the Warlock’s face twisted with agony and torment and hope, remembered Alastarius’s family lying butchered and torn in the hall of Castle Marentine, remembered lying on the cold stone of Castle Bastion’s courtyard, the blood seeping over the stones…

A thousand memories burst through her mind. 

Chapter 8 - White Magic

Anno Domini 2012

Ally opened her eyes. 

She still lay on the cold metal table, the steel cuffs around her wrists and ankles. The stink of chemicals filled her nostrils, and the clang of steel and roars of rage filled her ears. 

She felt no fear. 

Arran and Goth-Mar-Dan fought some distance away. Goth-Mar-Dan moved with a limp, his lips peeled back in a snarl. His eyes blazed and black flames crackled around his scimitar. She saw the darkness gathered around him, within him, like a great black shroud. Arran fought with fury, despite a dozen bleeding wounds. She saw the fire of his scarred, unbroken spirit burning within him, matching the twin fires of his Sacred Blades. She could also see the bonds of spirit that bound Luthar’s blade to Arran, the threads of power that permitted him to wield two Sacred Blades at once. 

Ally realized she could see both worlds at once, both the material and the spiritual. 

Goth-Mar-Dan roared and hammered at Arran.

Ally’s eyes narrowed, anger rising up within her. Goth-Mar-Dan had killed her blood family. He had ravaged through the High Kingdoms for centuries, bringing blood and murder and misery wherever he trod. He had murdered Alastarius. He had brought her here to torture and kill her. And now he was about to kill Arran. 

No.

She would not permit it.

Ally muttered a brief spell, drawing the white magic to her spirit. The world went hazy and cloudy as Ally shifted her body into the spiritual realm. She sat up and got to her feet, passing through the steel cuffs like smoke. She stepped away from the table and shifted back to the material world, the concrete cold and grimy beneath her bare feet. 

Ally turned to face Goth-Mar-Dan, the white magic rising up within her.

Goth-Mar-Dan froze, his burning eyes falling over her. Arran’s eyes widened in wonder as Ally strode toward them. 

Naked terror passed over Goth-Mar-Dan’s face and twisted into desperate rage. With a cry of fury and terror he sprang past Arran, accepting and ignoring two vicious hits from the Sacred Blades. Goth-Mar-Dan swooped into the air, scimitar raised high, black magic howling around its blade. 

He descended on her with an ear-splitting roar. 

“Ally!” shouted Arran.

Ally raised her hand and said a word. White light burst from her fingers, shining like a star in the dark factory. Goth-Mar-Dan crashed to the ground, screaming as the light fell over him. He strained forward, howling curses, trying to reach her. 

Ally thrust her palm at him.

White fire exploded into the winged demon. The spell flung Goth-Mar-Dan backwards and cast him into the wall. He crumpled to the floor, his wings hanging broken and useless against his back. Arran charged at the dazed demon, his blades flashing. Goth-Mar-Dan staggered back, snarling in rage, trying to parry. Arran scored hit after hit, white and azure fire soaking into the winged demon.

Ally cast another spell and conjured a spear of light. She ran forward, hands clasped around the spear’s glowing shaft. Arran lunged forward and stabbed both his blades into the demon’s stomach, tearing past battered armor plates. Goth-Mar-Dan shrieked in torment, his hands clawing for Arran’s arms. 

Ally stepped forward and stabbed. The spear of light cut through Goth-Mar-Dan’s armor like paper and sank deep, seeking the demon’s heart. Arran went into a frenzy, stabbing over and over again. 

Goth-Mar-Dan stared at her in shock. “This cannot be! I killed Alastarius, I tore his heart from his chest, I slew him…”

“And now you are slain," said Ally. "You yearn for power so much? Then devour this."

She plunged the spear of light into his chest with all her strength and weight behind it.

Goth-Mar-Dan threw back his head and shrieked. The fire from Arran’s blades spread through him, ravaging through him in a storm of white flame. 

And then Goth-Mar-Dan, king of the winged demons, collapsed in a spray of smoking ashes and obsidian bones. His red crown clanged against the floor and rolled away. 

“Arran,” said Ally. 

Arran groaned and fell to his knees. Sweat and blood soaked his clothes.

 “Ally,” he said, shaking. She saw bits of metal jutting from his side. “I’m not…I…I can’t…dying.” He grabbed at the wall to keep from slumping over.

Ally smiled. “No, you’re not.” She reached down, seized his temples, and muttered a spell. The white magic rose in response to her spirit, flowed down her arms, and shot into Arran. He made a strangled noise, every muscle in his body going rigid. 

The shards of metal fell out of his side. His wounds knit themselves closed, the skin sealing shut. Ally released him, and Arran shuddered once more and climbed to his feet. 

“You’re alive,” he said, staring at her in wonder. 

She smiled. “Thanks to you. He would have killed me, if you had not come.”

Arran seized her in his arms and held her tight. Ally rested her face against his neck. She wanted to stay like that for a long time.

“How?” he said.

“The white magic,” said Ally. “And it’s how you wielded two Sacred Blades at once. The power of your brother’s sacrifice knit his sword to your spirit, but you could not use it until a time of great need. Sir Liam carried his slain father’s Sacred Blade…and your carry your brother’s.”

“Thank you, Luthar,” said Arran, his voice little more than a whisper.

“Come on,” Ally said. “We must go. I have much to tell you. And we’ve not much time, I fear.” 

“We need to find something for you to wear,” said Arran. “You’ve no shoes. You’ll freeze to death outside.”

“The others,” said Ally. “Are they here?”

Rage flashed in Arran’s eyes. “Conmager wanted to abandon you. Mary and Lithon and I tried to dissuade him, but we could not. He thought we had to save Lithon at any cost, even your life…”

Ally raised a hand. “Do not blame Conmager. He would not have left me behind lightly. It would have added another weight to the load of grief he carries. And does not know what I now know. He only did as he thought best.”

Arran’s mouth twisted. “Erroneous as that was.” He looked away. “Goth-Mar-Dan must have had a vehicle hidden here, somewhere. We can take that, rejoin the others.” He shook his head. “Though how we’ll find them, I have no idea. Conmager must be a thousand miles away by now.”

“Perhaps,” said Ally, “but it matters not. A moment. I’ll find him.”

“How?” said Arran. 

Ally closed her eyes, her spirit calling the white magic. 

###

Lithon folded his arms. “I’m not going anywhere until we find Ally.”

Conmager shook his head, thumping his cane against the floor. “We have to go. Now. Your life must be preserved, Majesty. If you die, then everything would have been in vain.”

Mary nodded. “Lithon’s right. We have to find Ally.”

“And we can’t leave, anyway,” said Lithon. “Arran’s run off.”

Conmager shook his head again, despair showing on his face. “Arran has gone mad, I fear.” He beckoned. Allard swallowed and stepped closer. “I don’t want to have to knock you out and take you with me. But I will, if I have no choice, and you’re giving me no choice…”

The floor trembled. Conmager whirled, raising his cane as a ghostly image of white light appeared in the corner. 

“Master?” said Conmager, lowering his cane.

But instead of an old man, it was a pale image of Ally Wester.

“Ally?” said Mary. “My God, it’s Ally.”

“It is.” Conmager blinked his watery eyes. “But she doesn’t have the skill to cast a spell such as this…”

“I do now,” said Ally’s image. “Be quiet and listen to me, please. We do not have much time. I’m safe, and so is Arran. You must come to Chicago as soon as possible. Disguise the van, and load it with as many weapons as it can carry. Meet us at the Lake Michigan breakwater near downtown Chicago tomorrow. I’ll tell you everything then.”

“But…” said Conmager.

“Do it!” Ally’s voice softened. “Please. I cannot possibly tell you how important it is. But hurry.”

The image disappeared, its glow fading away into nothingness. 

“Oh my God,” said Allard, his knuckles whitening around his gun. “She’s dead. She’s dead and that’s her ghost.”

“You’re an idiot, son,” said Conmager. “That wasn’t her ghost. She’s alive. She’s…” Conmager shrugged. “Let’s pack up and get going. She did say to hurry.”

Lithon grinned and ran to grab his things. 

###

“Here!” Arran grabbed at the corner of a plastic tarp and pulled it back. A battered old car sat beneath it, orange rust chewing into its sides. “The keys are still inside.” He opened the door, saw a plastic bag on the floor, and reached inside. “And money. Lots of it.” 

“No doubt it belongs to Goth-Mar-Dan,” said Ally. She turned, looked at the glass tanks, and shivered. “Or one of his victims. God only knows to what wicked ends he put the money.” She handed something to him. “Here are the last of your guns.”

Arran took the weapon and slid it back into its holster. “You…look different.” Her face was paler, highlighting the dark circles that now ringed her eyes. Her dark eyes themselves had turned bloodshot, giving them an eerie look. And he saw not a trace of fear or doubt on her face, only determined focus. 

“Arran.” She touched his cheek. “Much is different. I’ll tell you everything, before we meet the others. But we need to rest. We can use the money to find a motel. But first let’s get out of this pit of misery.”

Arran nodded and gestured towards the car. “You can drive.”

“Wise, considering you don’t know how.” Ally got into the driver’s seat and turned the ignition as Arran lowered himself into the passenger’s seat. The engine coughed to life, the heater spitting blessed warmth over her body. She could felt Goth-Mar-Dan’s dark aura over the vehicle. The horror and despair of his victims had soaked into the very metal. 

Ally pushed aside the aura and pressed a garage door opener attached to the windshield. A truck door on the opposite wall slid open, and Ally pressed the gas and left Goth-Mar-Dan’s lair behind.