“I made you effective. I freed you from complications that were holding you back. Did I ever force you to do anything, Hugh? Or did you jump on every task I gave you?”
“Explain something to me. Why did you exile me? I did everything you asked.”
“I exiled you because you couldn’t see the bigger picture.” A note of irritation rose in Roland’s voice. “I’m beginning to think you still can’t.”
“That explains nothing.”
“Think about it and it will come to you.”
The pain in his ribs was unbearable now. Hugh pushed it aside. “Here is the bigger picture for you: there are two of us, Daniels and me. Neither of us wants anything to do with you. You’re not batting a thousand. You’re o for two. You need one of your children to fight the other, because Daniels kicked your ass once and she will do it again. Think about that.”
“There are three,” Roland said. “Almost three.”
“She hasn’t given birth yet.”
“No, but soon. Soon I will have a grandson.”
“And you can’t wait to get your hands on that child. Finally, a real son, the one with the right blood. Why the hell do you think anything will be different? Even if you get him from the moment he draws his first breath, he’ll still grow up hating you. Yet here you are, so desperate to get your hands on the new toy, that you send your Legion to capture me, teleport here despite the danger, and call me your son. Take a real good look. Look at me hanging here. If I were your son, what sort of father would that make you?”
“So the answer is no?” Roland asked.
“We could stay in here for the next hundred years and it would still be no. You’ll never get your hands on Kate’s kid. I’ll kill you first.”
Roland sighed. “You disappoint me, Hugh.”
“Get used to it.”
Roland stepped closer. Only a foot of space separated them.
“Without me, you’ll die and soon. Is that what you really want?”
“We all have to die eventually.”
“Alone, abandoned, stripped of your powers. This is the future you want?”
“No powers?”
“None of my blood.”
Hugh pulled on the last thread of magic remaining inside him, a tiny sliver that remained despite the power words and all the healing he had done. He drew the fingers of his free hand across his bloody ribs and sank that magic into the crimson liquid. Magic sparked, and the dark blood snapped into a sharp blood-red needle.
“Explain this to me,” Hugh said.
Roland shied back.
The needle crumbled into dust.
Someone screamed outside the building, the shriek cut off in mid-note.
“Last chance, Hugh!” Roland reached out to him. “Take my hand.”
“Fuck off.”
Mist shot through the doorway, glowing with magic, broke, and there it was, pure white and glowing, too monstrous to comprehend, emanating the kind of cold that rode comets and lived between the stars. Roland jerked back, shock on his face. Hugh just stared at it, mute. Every cell in his body was screaming. And then he saw her among the chaos of teeth, mouths, and eyes. She’d come for him.
She turned to Roland and he took a step back, shock draining all of the blood from his face.
She spoke, and cracks split the walls.
“HE IS MINE, WIZARD.”
“Have him then.” Roland vanished.
The creature of chaos lowered itself to him, and Hugh made his lips stretch into a grin, before his mind split open from sheer terror. His voice came out hoarse. “Hi, honey.”
Epilogue
Hugh opened his eyes and saw a familiar ceiling. The tech was up. Everything hurt. Daylight streamed into the room through the east window. It was morning.
Lamar’s slow measured voice floated to him.
“For this reason the best possible fortress is—not to be hated by the people, because, although you may hold the fortresses, yet they will not save you if the people hate you, for there will never be wanting foreigners to assist a people who have taken arms against you…”
“Why are you reading him this boring shit?” Bale asked.
“Unlike your half-blood prince, this is a classic.”
“Half-Blood Prince is a great book.”
“Of course it is. What could be better than stories of clueless teenagers sent off to… Bale, what is that?”
“What, this?”
Lamar’s voice took on a sharp edge. “Is that a wand?”
“It’s a stick.”
“Are you pointing a wand at me?”
“Who, me?”
“Bale, if any Latin comes out of your mouth, it better be a litany of the saints, because I will end you.”
Hugh made his mouth move. His voice came out hoarse. “Bale’s right. It’s too early in the day for Machiavelli.”
Bale charged the bed and gripped him in a bear hug. Hugh’s bones groaned.
The berserker let go, punched the air, shoveled himself halfway out of the window, and bellowed, “He’s awake!”
Lamar heaved a long sigh and took his glasses off. “Brace yourself. The parade is coming.”
It started with Stoyan, who came running down the hallway. Unfortunately, Cedric beat him by about ten feet. The huge hound jumped on the bed, squealing, whimpering and licking his face. Hugh had barely fought him off when Elara’s people flooded the bedroom. Dugas came in at the head of a procession of apprentices and they walked around the bedroom chanting and waving bunches of wet flowers and herbs.
“Congratulations on surviving,” Dugas told him.
“Thanks.”
Felix’s orphaned scouts were next, followed by the stable girl – he still didn’t remember her name. She gave him a detailed report on Bucky, who seemed to be depressed and apparently, Hugh needed to get down to the stables as soon as he could.
Then came the Iron Dogs and the villagers. His head was swimming and he had a hard time keeping faces straight. Somewhere in there, Savannah showed up, peered into his eyes, squinted at him, and shrugged. “No worse for wear.”
Johanna came in, hugged him, and walked out.
Bakers, archers, smiths, druids, medical staff, bulldozer crew, they came on and on, until he was sure he would pass out from the noise alone. He smiled and made the right noises, while his mind sorted through the fragments of his memories. Nez’s camp, Elara carrying him within her body that faded in and out of existence, sliding beyond the three-dimensional reality of their space, the undead and Masters of the Dead dying as they tried to reach for her, the dark trunks of the trees, the icy presence of her magic, spinning out of control in his soul, threatening to devour… He remembered the walls of Baile and then his recollection stopped, sharp as if cut by a knife.
Finally, Lamar had had enough. He and Stoyan kicked everyone out and shut the doors.
“What happened to the remaining mrogs?” Hugh asked.
“Both the mrogs and the soldiers died with the first tech shift,” Stoyan reported. “Mrogs died first. The humans lasted almost twenty-four hours, but eventually died as well. Elara’s people are dissecting them.”
“Nez?”
“Withdrew,” Lamar said. “He evacuated the night Elara brought you back. What the hell happened?”
“I saw Roland,” Hugh said. “We talked.”
The two centurions went silent. He saw alarm on their faces.
“I burned the bridge,” he said. “We’re on our own.”
The relief in their eyes was so clear, it stabbed at him.
“So this is home?” Stoyan asked.
“It is.”
“Good.” Stoyan smiled. “It’s good to have you back, Preceptor.”
Hugh nodded. “It’s good to be back.”
Stoyan walked out, closing the door behind him. It was only Hugh and Lamar now. Hugh beckoned and Lamar moved to the bed, sitting only a few inches away.
“Did you see what she is?” Hugh asked quietly.
“No,” Lamar said. “They made us go in before she turned. They sacrificed the cows. I think she might have fed off of them, but I’m not sure.”
“I saw her,” Hugh said.
“What is she?”
He struggled for the words to describe the ancient power and chaos existing in more dimensions than a human mind could comprehend and couldn’t find any.
“I don’t know,” he said. “Find out, Lamar. If she turns on us, I need to know how I can kill her.”
The centurion nodded and left the room.