47. Declan

Chapter 47

Declan

T ears flowed as I searched the inky darkness with both hands.

I cast a swirling ball of light beneath the swells and thrust my hands into the river’s surface. Each time they rose from the current, they held nothing, simply dripped with oozing blackness.

My mother was gone.

She was truly gone.

I sat back against a stone and stared at nothing.

I looked down and scrubbed my hands against my trousers, angry at the poisoned substance that had just made me an orphan, desperate to remove its stain from my skin.

How long I sat in that grotto, revisiting every moment I’d had with my mother, I would never know.

Minutes?

Hours?

It felt like a lifetime—but a lifetime wasn’t enough.

There could never be enough time.

I wept again.

When weariness of heart and body ebbed, I rose and made my way to the cavern’s entrance. Darkness had fallen on the early spring night, and stars shone in the cloudless sky. I could just make out the lights of the guild and trudged slowly toward them.

Why were so many burdens laid on my shoulders?

“Declan, can you hear me?” a familiar voice called in my mind, startling me out of my pondering.

“Atikus?” I asked, unsure if returning the mental missive would even work. “How—”

I felt the Mage’s rumbling laughter in my mind. “I have no idea, but you are not going to believe what else I can do now.”

“Atikus, where are you? I need to tell you something, and I’d rather—”

“Wait! You are responding Telepathically! Does this mean your Gifts still work?”

I’d had no reason to test my Telepathy before that moment. It had worked a few times, speaking in Ayden’s mind, but this felt different somehow . . . more . Though more of what, I couldn’t fathom.

A thousand questions flooded my mind.

How far away was Atikus?

How far could we communicate?

How far could I—?

“Yes, my magic works . . . just differently. It’s hard to believe, and even harder to explain. Where are you? We need to talk.”

“I have returned to the guild. I just thought about home, and the next moment, I was here. It is incredible!” Excitement flooded our mental channel.

Emotions. I could feel his emotions through our communication.

Sweet Spirits, what next?

“All right, I’m almost there. I need a bath and a meal, but we should talk first. This is really important.”

Atikus sobered. “Son, are you all right? What’s wrong? I can feel it through this bond, whatever this is.”

“I’m fine. Meet me in the dining hall in fifteen minutes. I should be there by then.”

“Okay. I’ll head down and ask cook to whip up something to eat. See you then.”

I sat across the table from my adopted father.

We’d eaten our fill of cold cuts and dried fruits, and Atikus had recounted the events in the mountain as he’d experienced them, letting me finish my meal before delivering my news.

“I didn’t just get my Gifts back; I got all of magic!” Atikus vibrated like a boy who’d just tasted his first ale.

I looked up from my plate, said, “Me, too,” then took another bite as if I hadn’t spoken anything of import.

Atikus cocked his head.

He opened his mouth, then closed it.

He blinked beneath bushy brows.

For once, the man was speechless.

“Maybe I should tell you what happened,” I said as I washed the last bite of my dinner down.

“Yes,” Atikus said, his enthusiasm quelled. “Perhaps you should.”

I struggled to begin. Where does one begin with a tale that ends in his mother’s death? My heart ached to be done, to never begin, to have just one more day . . .

The Spirits ignored my prayers.

So, I wove my way through the events in the Well’s cavern, the battle with Irina, and my harrowing journey with Kels? in the currents. When I got to the last part, I lost the last measure of composure and wept.

Atikus stood, stepped around the table, and pulled me into a tight embrace.

He held me until the tears ebbed, never uttering a word.

“I couldn’t save her, Atikus. I tried, but the currents were raging, and the poison was killing magic all around us. I could barely see, much less hold on.” I peered up with reddened eyes. “She vanished while . . . while I watched . I saw her break apart in the currents.”

When Atikus remained quiet, I pulled back, anger blazing in my eyes. “Irina did this. We need to banish her once and for all, Atikus. I don’t care if I die fighting; that witch is going to the void where she belongs.”

Atikus pinched his eyes shut, then nodded. “Yes, yes. Of course, you are right. We cannot let her spirit continue wreaking havoc, but . . . I don’t even know where to begin looking for her, much less how to banish her.” He sat back and gripped my arm with his bony fingers. “You look like you could use a bath and a good night’s sleep. I know I need the rest. We’ll both think better in the morning. I can get some of the Mages I trust to help us plan.”

I nodded weakly, then locked eyes with Atikus. “I never said thank you .”

The Mage cocked his head. “For what, son?”

“For being the only family Keelan and I ever had. For taking us in and always believing in us, even when we—I—didn’t believe in myself.”

Atikus’s face softened, and his eyes moistened. “Declan, son, you two filled my life with laughter and my heart with joy in ways I never knew was even possible. I should be thanking you.”

We embraced once more, then left the dining hall to find rest.

The next morning, someone had slid a note beneath my door instructing me to meet Atikus and several other Mages in the study for a private breakfast. I grinned as I entered the paneled room and found the rotund, ever-jovial Mage Pel piling his plate with eggs and bacon. Pel fumbled for a place to set his breakfast down, then waddled toward the entrance to greet me.

Reunion complete, I loaded my plate and sank into one of the large leather chairs, which normally faced the hearth but had been turned to form a circle.

Atikus set his steaming tea down and cleared his throat. “Keep eating, everyone, but we should get started. What we have to discuss is too important to wait. I will ask you to forgive my caution in advance. What Declan and I are about to reveal must never leave this room, and I will bind each of your minds with magic to ensure no one could ever pry these memories from you, something I wish had been done for me before Irina could rummage through my head.” He looked each Mage in the eyes, waited for their nod of assent, then cast the binding spell that would wipe any trace of their conversation from their minds within a few days.

He then summarized the events that had occurred over the past days, which translated into weeks in non-island time. I interjected at points, but Atikus’s perfect memory hadreturned, and his details were impeccable.

I marveled at Atikus’s perfect recall as the Mage recapped the plans we’d devised.

“The top priority is locating Irina,” Atikus said, as if reading from a list. “She is powerful; we assume she has regained all her previous powers, just as we have. We need one Mage to scry for her. I will power his efforts with my magic. With her new powers, she should light up like a star in any scrying bowl.

“Next, we have to find a way to banish her—for good this time. Unfortunately, we have far more questions than answers. Is banishment even possible with a Mage of her power? Is her spirit separate from Larinda’s body, or do we need to kill the woman formerly known as Larinda and then banish Irina’s spirit? If so, will a summoning circle be needed to contain her spirit until it can be banished?”

As happened far too often when a group of Mages sat in the study, the conversation meandered on and off topic, and I found my mind drifting. I snapped back to the present when they moved on.

“Finally, we have to cleanse the currents and restore Gifts to the world,” Atikus said.

A tiny voice inside me wondered if I would lose many of my newly acquired powers if Gifts were restored. I was just getting to know these new powers, and we were already talking about stripping them away, returning me to only what I, as Heir, possessed.

I would be reduced to, what, six or seven Gifts?

Then I chided myself for such selfish thoughts.

My charge was to protect the people and magic itself, not hoard it like a dragon with a pile of golden coins. I realized in that moment how bitterly Irina was likely to resist having her powers taken from her once again, especially after a thousand years of imprisonment.

This was going to be a lot harder than any of us thought.

Atikus turned to the historian in the group. “We need you to dig through the stacks of historical scrolls maintained in the guild’s vault for any reference to the spell used to splinter magic and create Gifts. It has to be there. Mages were the original pack rats. We never destroy anything, especially if it was written on parchment.”

The Mages chuckled at their own penchant for hoarding.

The group disbanded shortly after lunch, each Mage hurrying off to research his or her assigned task. We would reconvene for dinner and review each other’s progress.

Atikus and I headed to the Guild Hall with the scrying Mage, hoping the circle embedded in that building would be powerful enough to locate our quarry. It would have been a simple matter from atop the Mages’ tower, but that option crumbled when its stones fell.

I had never seen the gold-and-silver inlaid circle in the casting chamber of the Guild Hall—there’d been no reason, as I’d grown up believing magic had shunned me. Now, upon entering the well-lit room, my eyes widened as I took in the craftsmanship of the perfectly inlaid circle. One golden circle in the center surrounded by a silver square wrapped in a final golden circle.

The whole thing flared when Atikus and I entered.

“Well, that’s new,” the scrying Mage said.

Atikus shook his head. “We are seeing all sorts of new things these days. It appears anything invested with magic responds to our presence.”

“Interesting. That might be helpful when we get to the fighting stage of the plan,” I said.

A white marble pillar stood waist high in the center of the circle. The scrying Mage poured water from a pitcher into a shiny brass bowl and placed it on the pedestal, careful not to spill anything inside the circle.

“Is it too much to hope that you have something personal to Irina?” he asked.

I barked a laugh. “I don’t know that anything matters to her anymore. She’s the purest kind of evil.”

“Declan’s right that we don’t have an item of hers, but he’s wrong in painting her with one solid color. While I agree she’s turned dark, no one is entirely evil—or good, for that matter. We are all shades and hues.”

“Maybe she’s shades of black ,” I mused.

“Let’s focus on locating her, shall we?” Atikus steered us back to our purpose.

The scrying Mage stepped up to the bowl and looked at me. “It’s a simple process. Whichever of you is performing the scrying, place both hands on the outside of the bowl, but don’t touch the water. Call your Light. When your magic responds, focus your thoughts on Irina, what she looks like, every detail you can remember. If she wore a certain scent, try to recreate that memory. Everything helps. We wouldn’t normally need to be this detailed, but without an artifact, your mind will have to be the bridge. If you do everything correctly and maintain steady focus, the water will ripple and show images of where Irina is currently.”

Atikus raised a brow. “Would you like to do the honors?”

“I’m not sure this counts as honors , but sure. I have never done a scrying before. You may have to guide me,” I said, stepping up and gripping the sides of the bowl.

I closed my eyes, and my Light flared at my call.

I heard a gasp and opened my eyes, disrupting the process.

“What happened? Is everything okay?”

Atikus chuckled and looked to the scrying Mage, whose eyes couldn’t have grown any wider.

“I don’t think he’s seen your tunic light up before,” Atikus said with a flourish of bushy brows and a chuckle.

“Sorry,” the Mage said. “It’s . . . incredible. I’ll stay quiet this time.”

I allowed myself a grin, then closed my eyes to focus again.

As before, my Light responded quickly.

I replayed the scene from the Well in my mind, first with Kels? and me running into the chamber in response to órla’s alarm.

Then Irina appeared wearing the mask of Larinda.

I focused on the details as the Mage had instructed, recreating every wrinkle and weathered spot on the old woman’s face and bare arms, her stringy snow-white hair, and her colorful island dress. I could hear Larinda’s voice, the warmth and depth in her laugh, taste the salt in the air as I breathed deeply.

I held that image, those sensations, for five minutes, then ten.

Finally, I felt a hand pat my shoulder, and the image fell away.

I opened my eyes to find the other two men staring at the bowl in frustration.

“Were you able to remember details?” the scrying Mage asked.

“Of course. I spent a lot of time with Larinda. That wasn’t hard.”

“Well, the water didn’t so much as ripple, much less show us anything,” Atikus said. “I could feel waves of power wafting off as you focused. Having strong enough magic is not our problem here.”

“Wait,” the Mage said excitedly. “You said Larinda .”

I nodded, confused. “That’s right. That’s the face Irina wore when I saw her.”

“True, but we’re not looking for Larinda, we’re looking for Irina . Her spirit could have left Larinda’s body to inhabit another. Regardless of what body she wore, it’s Irina’s spirit we are trying to locate. Try again, this time focused on Irina.”

“This just got a lot harder. I’ve never seen Irina. No one has, at least not in a thousand years.”

Atikus raised a hand like a schoolboy.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” I said.

“Perfect memory, remember? I have studied the Kingdom War, read much of what still exists detailing Irina’s rise. There are no busts or sketches of her, but her appearance is described in vivid detail in Matias’s Histories.”

“Of course, he even remembers the name of the boring book he read,” I grumbled.

“Yes, my boy, I do. Stand aside and watch your Arch Mage work.”

I rolled my eyes, more for the scrying Mage’s amusement than for Atikus’s sake, then backed away from the bowl and watched as Atikus took over the process. Within a few heartbeats, the old Mage had closed his eyes, called his Light, and caused the water to ripple violently, then settle into images of a building none of us recognized.

“It looks like an old warehouse. There are candles hanging everywhere; there must be a hundred of them hanging from lines stretched across the ceiling. I’ve never seen so many in one place. Does that mean anything to either of you?” Atikus asked.

The Mage shrugged, but I stared into the water.

“When I was on border patrol, there were a few traders who would come through from the Kingdom with carts laden with candles. We are the producer in the trading relationship with the Spires, but there are a few items where they do most of the production and selling. Candles are one of those items.”

“Do you know where they’re made? Where the Merchant sells them?”

“No, but Keelan’s over there, right? Why don’t we pay him a visit with our shiny new powers? He may know someone who can help— like the Queen .”

“My boy, you may become the smartest of us all.” Atikus grinned. “I have been to the Palace several times, so Traveling there should not be a problem. Let’s go see your brother.”