Renhala (45 page)

What are you up to, little one?

Nayla watches as I run to her and rip off the tourniquet off her limb,
her
reminder of Michel’s betrayal as king. I kneel on the floor, taking the rock and placing it in the tourniquet. Then, tying it, I attach it to Bu’s necklace, creating a makeshift pendulum. I walk to my mom’s body and place my finger in the blood spilled along the floor. Then I trace on the tourniquet, a heart, shedding one last tear for the beautiful angel I once called “Mom.”

I walk toward Devoten and take his hand in mine. He
’s caught off guard and his energy wavers. I slip off the ring from his finger and slide it onto Bu’s necklace, letting it fall to the tourniquet. I hold out the pendulum, allowing it to move and pick up speed as I call to Neda, and to all those who have left this plane of existence. The pendulum begins circling with such speed and power that I brace myself, holding it above my head. The ground starts shaking, and Devoten embraces me, trying to stabilize his own footing. As he looks into my eyes, I throw up an energy barrier, and then and there realize that I must destroy him—the very man my mother once adored, and whose blood is flowing through my veins. “Goodbye, Devoten,” I say.

He starts changing before my eyes. His skin hardens, but his eyes remain, glossy. “My little girl,” is all that escapes his mouth as I read his energy—his feelings of disgrace as a father, forcing my eyes to well up, but I continue on. The pendulum keeps twirling and as I think it cannot twirl any faster, a stream of lutheose appears, travelling in the air from the giant cauldron to directly above the swinging pendulum—over me and Devoten. After levitating above us for a brief few seconds, the stream then pours over Devoten, loosening his embrace. The moment he releases me I still feel his energy, clinging to me. It starts creeping along my body, searching. A sudden, stabbing pain makes me scream as sudo-abominor attempts to burrow its way inside me. Just as I think I can no longer swing the pendulum
and
keep up my barrier, Devoten starts shrinking, until finally, he disappears, leaving only a silver key where he once stood. I stand in awe, dropping my energy barrier. The pain of the claws immediately subsides.

Lupa runs over, picking up the key and tossing it in her everything pack.

As Devoten’s army starts disappearing one by one, Tartarin, bloody but still alive, sneakily crawls to the metal box and releases a lever, which opens the door. The scream that reaches our ears wants to drive us insane. Without even thinking, I run to Velopa, grabbing at the energy, over screams of protest. Conner’s scream is the loudest as he claws at me, but I am too fast.

Chapter 55

Deadly

There is absolute silence.

Nothingness.

A change in consciousness.

A feeling of being watched.

The smell of mud, of earth.

The sensation of birth, of life, of love, of complete wholeness.

The sensation of pain, of desperation, of loss, of falling apart into a million pieces.

The floating ball of light hovers before me. It is Velopa, and it is as astounded as I am.

We are both motionless as I hear a whisper: “You cannot follow her.”

Both Velopa and I are thrown to the rocklands with a thump—well me more than Velopa, who hovers. Then before my eyes, it quickly transforms into an animate creature—a giant scarab, with beautiful ancient hieroglyphics
—resembling those on my spade—painted on its back. It speaks to me: “YOU HAVE NOT LET ME SEEK MY REVENGE! DEVOTEN, WHO RULED MY KINGDOM SO SLOPPILY, MUST BE DESTROYED! ME—CONTAINED! ME—POISONED! ME—VELOPA...the stern... ”

The voice quiets as Neda appears across the rocks. The scarab points at me
and shouts, looking at Neda, “She deserves death!”

It unleashes one last energy whip, and as it hits me in the back, I feel the most painful burning imaginable. The poison spreads quickly, and I fall to the ground, my last glimpse revealing Velopa smiling at Neda, whose eyes squint. They both turn into energy balls and speed toward each other at G-force speed. As the collision is about to occur, I travel back to the wedding hall—a very small piece of Renhala residing in my plane. 

“She’s dying!”

“Ladimer, fix her!”

“I don’t know the poison.”

“A deathman! Do something,
now
!”

I lie motionless, not afraid to die. My blood slows its flow as my heart beats to no rhythm. I feel a pain in my back as Ladimer, rolling me over, slices it open with a knife. I want to scream, but I cannot move. Conner
’s energy is near, and I sense him holding me.

Suddenly, Ladimer laughs. With the laugh comes renewed energy and life. My heart beats to its familiar rhythm once again.

“Hyacinthus animo, a.k.a. lily of life,” says Ladimer, gladly, as he holds the flower from my hair—the flower his foster mom gave me—sans one petal.

I come to with such force I sit up immediately, knocking Conner over. The tear on his face is quickly wiped away by the back of his own hand. 

Ladimer stands above me, smiling. “My little karmelean is back with us,” he says. The deathman at the door shrugs, turns and heads back out the door—the door that knocks it in the butt as it leaves.

Ladimer hands the flo
wer from my hair to Lupa, and I see her throw it in her everything pack. I scan the crowd, which now only consists of my wedding guest-friends, but I don’t see Jenna, or my mom’s body.

“Jenna? Jenna!” I yap
. “And where is my mom?!”

Lupa reaches her hand inside her everything pack once more and pulls out Jenna, who sleeps, curled up in a ball. “She needs some healing rest,” says Lupa. “This was the only place I could put her while Gunthreon fought Tartarin. He did a fine number on that monster, but Tartarin disappeared. Also—honey, we thought it best to move your mother
’s body—somewhere appropriate, in order to deal with her burial preparations.” I simply nod, not wanting to lose my composure.

I swallow hard and my eyes search for my ex-best friend. My blood begins to pump faster as I think of what she did to everyone. “Where
’s Amber? She run?” I say.

“Yep.” Lupa tucks Jenna back in the everything pack.

Conner adds, “Out the door, dress, tiara, and all.”

“Where
’s Russell?” I ask.

“Someplace safe,” replie
s Conner. “I tried speaking to Russell, but he just stared straight ahead, not saying a word, barely breathing. I’m worried about him.” I put my hand softly on his shoulder.

“Ladimer, can you help?” I
query.

“No. His break is mental,” says Ladimer. “He needs to overcome that himself.”
             

“Markings of protection over the door?” I say, looking to the falling frame.

“Must have been some strong magic,” says Gunthreon, appearing behind us.

“You were hit by Velopa,” I blurt
, shocked to see Gunthreon walking to us unaided. “I saw you.”

Gunthreon smiles a humble smile. “I sensed the energy coming before it hit me. I persuaded your friend Amber to cover me with her power.”

“How’s Russell?”

“We shall see how he recovers. What I need to know is, how are you?” He comes over and gives me the tightest Gunthreon hug I have yet received, and he doesn
’t let up until my tears flow, as well as a single Gunthreon tear. Everyone comes over to us, and we share in one communal hug until there is no more fluid left in my body.

“Sorry I ever doubted you—any of you,” says Gunthreon, sorrow in his voice. “I hope you can place your trust in me once again, Kailey. I would like your permission to give your mom a proper burial. It
’s your choice.”

“I trust you to do the best for her,” I
whisper.

“I will start the preparations,” he says.  “Forgive me for my abruptness, but I feel it needs to be done as soon as possible. Oh, and please, may I keep the key for a bit? I would like to have someone I trust look at it and tell me what steps to take.” I nod as his kiss sweeps against my cheek as he disappears. Lupa sheds a tear as she turns away from me.

As we leave the scene, I feel a sadness that breaks my heart, but I realize the pain for my mom is over. No more band-aids: brief moments of coverage that only masked her real wounds. My thoughts turn to my mom’s last words, and Amber, and the thought that the embryo in her womb is my half-brother.

I lose two pieces of family and gain another.

Chapter 56

Remorseful

I choose a flowing white dress with small, lavender flowers embroidered throughout the eyelet fabric. Next to my chest, I wear both my whistle from Conner and Mortimer’s gift. My hair is free, and I wear no shoes. Everyone else is also in white, and shoeless. Jenna, fully healed, stands next to me, her hand on my leg, speechless. Bu, to my back, breathes deep, steady breaths. He’s trying to be strong for me, but his anguish throbs as loud as Lupa sobs. Conner stands with me, holding my hand.

Meadow
’s Edge is quiet today, mourning its loss. Even those who never met my mom attend the service, speaking their deepest sympathies, heralding her heroic actions and crying tears out of respect.

I turn to Ladimer who has come up next to me and whisper, “I think tonight, I may need to take a trip to the ol
’ Wicked Whale.”

“
It’s already been suggested,” he says.

Beautiful music plays as lutheose flutes and harps sing their songs of sorrow and resurrection. The overwhelmingly sad emotions of everyone present is too much for me to handle, and I start crying, praying this is all a bad dream, and praying that I don
’t fall into another depression—a depression that my mother can’t save me from this time. 

My mom
’s body, loosely draped in elegant ivory silk, is carried on a carved bed of logs before us. Releasing my grasp from Conner, I walk to her body and stare at her peaceful face. “No more pain, Mom. I love you,” I say before gently kissing her cheek. As my lips touch her cheek, and Ladimer walks up to stand beside me, I hear, from nowhere in particular, “Stay strong. They still need you.” My mom’s voice then blends in with the whistling of the wind.

A tear drips down Ladimer
’s cheek and he quickly wipes it away. “I loved her, you know,” he whispers. I pull him near me and we embrace as our energies slowly meet and a great sadness is shared between us. He then says, “And I love you, too.”

I grip him a bit tighter, then release him as we all march in procession toward the life pool.

We arrive, and Gunthreon steps out and lays his hand on my mom’s head. “Your work was heavy, but you moved with graceful agility,” he says. “Your life was hard, but your softness carried you. Your soul was repeatedly tested, but you answered and stood strong, always prepared for more. We ask that this shell be taken and, in return, the gift be given.”

My mom
’s body is lifted off the logs and held in the middle of the life pool, where she is released. Her beautiful body floats for a brief few seconds, then dissolves like sugar into the water. The pool glows a brilliant light, and Gunthreon leads me to the water’s edge. “Kailey, you must enter,” he says. 

I walk into the cold water, which starts warming almost immediately upon my entry. I walk down to the familiar bottom, just standing in silence, wanting to stay down here forever, never resurfacing to live my crummy life without my mom.

The noise of moving rocks reaches my ears, and from deep along the bottom of the pool floor comes an otter-like creature, slowly, holding out in front of itself a box. It stops near me, stretching out its nose, seemingly sniffing the water around it. Its eyes are big and brown, like a teddy bear’s. As it swims closer to me, I hold out my hands, waiting to accept the gift. But shortly before it reaches me, it snatches the box back, in a snotty way, shaking its paw at me, as if scolding a child. I put my arms down, and it slowly approaches again. I hold my breath as it comes right up to me, near my ear. As I wait in anticipation, a pain surges from my ear, as I see blood floating in the water. I grab my monk’s spade and, as the creature tastes my blood, threaten it. It seems to ponder something briefly, then nods, holding the box out to me. I am hesitant to take it, but finally mount my weapon and take the box.

The sly little creature makes its way back from where it came, leaving me alone with the box and my bloody ear, healing as I stand.

The gift in my hands is a wooden box with a metal rune smack-dab in the center on the top. I turn the box over and over, looking for a hinge or a latch or keyhole to open it, but there is none. I shake the box, and nothing. I pry it with my hands, trying to separate top and bottom, but it does not budge. Discouraged, I make my way back up to the crowd. As I emerge, already dry, they say their goodbyes, turn, walking away from me, back to town.

“Gunthreon, it won
’t open,” I sputter.

“Are you sure?”

“You try.”

He backs away quickly. “No—nobody else is to touch that,” says Gunthreon. He sees my frown and when nobody else is looking, attempts to open it, but to no avail. He hands it back to me quickly. “When a child is to be born, the mother prepares a box for the child. When she gives birth in the life pool, she drops the box at the same moment the baby is released. It is only to be given back to the child once the mother is returned to the pool.
But you must not be meant to have the gift yet. Sorry, Kailey.”

I just stare at the box, turning it over and over, thinking that maybe my mom played one last trick on me, making it some sort of puzzle. Jenna
’s knife is the perfect size, so I take it from her and try prying the box open once more, but alas, no movement—not even a chipping of the wood.

We all decide to head over to Lupa
’s house to hang out for a bit. As we approach, I sense heightened emotion in Lupa. “Dear Neda!” she yells, running toward her house, darting over short, fruit-bearing bushes and ducking under hanging, blue-flowered vines. We all simultaneously grip our weapons and secure our footing. “My poor garden!” exclaims Lupa. “Look at these nasty sprouts strangling my tomato plants. Oh! My franglefruit!” She runs around frantically, pulling at the ugly weeds as we all drop our weapons to our sides. 

“I love her, but she is crazy, G.” I smile at Gunthreon, whose loving face admires his woman, especially her butt as she bends over.

“Uh-hmm,” he murmurs. I clear my throat, and when he sees me watching him, he blushes.

“I’m going to rest now, if that’s okay,” I say. He nods and I walk silently into Lupa’s house and jump onto the bed, tears for my mom flooding from my eyes. I cry myself to sleep, asking myself if I could have done more for my mom.

*********

A solid four hours of sleep carries no dreams or travels whatsoever, and I wake to a sense of renewal. As I walk out, Conner is at my door, standing with his hand raised, about to knock. “Ready for some fun, or at least some alcohol?” he says. “I know I am.” I throw my hair back in a ponytail, and let him lead me out by my hand. Everyone else is up and standing around, waiting for me. 

Gunthreon, looking at me, asks, “Dreams?”

“Nope.”

“You got some sleep. Good.”

Just looking at him and Ladimer makes me think of
my mom. As we make our way to The Wicked Whale, I make several stops just to sit and cry.

“We don
’t have to go if you’re not up for it,” says Ladimer. “We can all just hang out—or, if you want your privacy—?”

“No, p
lease. I need you all right now, and a few drinks.”

As we enter the bar, everyone notices us, and all make their way to me, hugging and kissing me. In a weird way, it
’s comforting, and I almost feel as though my mom is in the room with us, listening, and feeling the emotions winding between us all. 

The band eventually starts up the music, and people begin dancing hand in hand. I make my way out to them and dance my own dance, twirling and swaying, anger and sadness my partners. I hear nothing else besides the music, and I am entranced, moving for myself and not for the pleasure of othe
rs. As the music ends my eyes rise and meet Ladimer’s, who has had a few drinks already and the bond between us quivers. He raises his glass to me. Conner, beside him, also watches me. I marvel at the beauty of both men and feel grateful for their love.

The music begins once more, more upbeat, but before I begin another dance, I notice someone standing at the door of the bar—and then the door closes. The energy draws me, and I begin walking toward the door.

I exit and find the poor soul sitting outside on a rock. He cowers as I sit next to him.

“What
’s wrong?” I ask.

“I cannot find comfort in anything.” His breath smells like mead.

I put my arms around his shoulders. “It’s not your fault.”

“You lie, but I appreci
ate the effort. Without that metal contraption, none of this would have happened.” 

“You did not do anything willingly.”

His energy is so full of pain, it hurts my head. “And how do you know that?” I have no response. “I need a favor of you,” he says, firmly.

“Anything.”

He hesitates. “Kill me.”

My arm drops as I attempt to stand above Mortimer. “Listen to yourself! There is so much to be thankful for. I need you with me. Don
’t do this to me—not now.”

“T
hey will always find me,” he states. “There will always be someone looking to abuse my talents—my curse—and I feel that someday I may just give in to whomever tempts me with the best offer. I will openly admit this. You would never believe the number of times I’ve been given offers, and have refused them. I need to eliminate the chance of me, one day, accepting.”

“You will always have people ready to defend you—your friends w
illing to watch your back,” I proclaim. I reach to the energy flowing around his body in hopes of quieting the pain, but it jabs—almost like a punch—at me, not wanting to cooperate. “Come back inside, and be with us—those friends willing to fight for you.” I retract my own energy from him.

I turn to the door of
The Wicked Whale and see Ladimer’s silhouette in the doorway. I shoo him off, and he returns to the music, but when I turn around, Mortimer has a golden knife to his own throat.

“My god, Mortimer!”

“I am sorry to do this to you again, but it is for everyone’s safety. Tell them all I am sorry.” His slash is quick, and it penetrates deeply, cutting off the flow of blood to his heart and redirecting it all over the front of his shirt. I move instantly, but simply stand above his body, not believing what is happening in my life. My energy begins twisting and twirling and screaming, and the fact that Mortimer, having taken his own life, is slumped over before me is menial. Another part of me surfaces—a part I instantly abhor—a part that vows to kill Tartarin and destroy the key that was once my father.

Conner comes running out, maybe sensing what has happened. “Oh no. He did it, didn
’t he?” he asks, staring at Mortimer, lying in the dirt. “Remorse got the best of him. I’ll go get Ladimer and Gunthreon.” Then he’s off at full pace.

As he leaves, it hits me full-impact—a force wild and unstoppable. I begin running, running from whom I am, running at
Quicksilver speed, desperate to grasp my hands around a neck and kill with my bare hands. The karmelean in me fights these newfound feelings. Repulsed by the strength of the hate and the violence of the internal struggle creates a horrifically ugly aura around me. I can feel it—a sight Jenna would cringe at.

As I
’m about to reach top speed, loving every minute of my chase, I’m hit by something large and thick, about chest high. My eyes turn up in my head, and that’s when I see the tree bark and leaves, right before the pitch black.

I never feel the lapping of tiny tongues on my face, or hear my whistle being blown by the wind.