The Divided Knight - Chapter Eighteen

The archway looked to have been made from a single piece of translucent marble, and it glowed from within with a soft, slowly pulsing white light. It was tall – at least twenty feet, at Zoe's best guess – and appeared to have been built directly into the wall of the cavern Zoe had woken up in. The archway was not the only unusual thing about the cavern – there were furnishings strewn about, most of which appeared to have not been used in some time, including a large bookcase that was filled to bursting with tightly packed scrolls – but it, alone, commanded Zoe's attention, drawing her toward it like a magnet. But was it truly the archway that called to her? What about the blackness that lay beyond it? The blackness that seemed to ripple like the surface of a millpond? Zoe didn't want to look at that blackness, but she couldn't tear her eyes away from it, and, the longer she stared, the more she wanted to approach it, to step through the archway and let it swallow her up.

“Mesmerizing, isn't it? I wouldn't get too close to it, though, if I were you. That blackness is alive, and it will kill anyone foolish enough to approach.”

With an effort, Zoe looked away from the archway. Standing beside her was a woman who hadn't been there just a moment before. The woman wore clothes not dissimilar from the ones Zoe herself wore, save for the red and gold sunburst that had been stitched into the shoulder of her tunic, and she was about the same height. Her hair had long since gone to white, but it was neatly groomed, and her green eyes sparkled with life despite her apparent age. When Zoe looked at her, the woman smiled, and, almost at once, Zoe felt a deep kinship with her. It was almost as if she had met some long lost relative she had always heard about, but never seen, before.

“Who are you?” Zoe asked. “What is this place?”

“In truth, I am nothing but a memory, an echo of something that has long since passed,” the woman said. “As for this place, it's real enough, though you and your companions have yet to reach it.” She glanced at the archway. “And reach it you must.”

“This is where the Amulet of Adarion is, isn't it?” Zoe asked.

“It is, though that is only one small part of what you will find here. The scrolls in the bookshelf are another, and will reveal to you much the world has forgotten. And then there is the archway, better known as the Gateway of Eternity.” The woman's voice grew somber, and she once again looked at the archway. “The Gateway that must remained sealed forever.”

“Why must it remain sealed? Does it have something to do with the blackness?”

The woman smiled at her. “The blackness is nothing but a ward, child. Malevolent to anyone who would approach the Gateway, but otherwise harmless.” Her smile vanished. “The ward is breaking down, however. It was always known that it would, someday, but there had been hope someone would have come along to restore it before now. That did not happen, though, and I fear the ward has already degraded too far. Not that that, too, was something that was totally unforeseen.”

“You must not tell her any more, Mother.” Horace Alvarem, looking just as he had on the night he'd died, had joined them, appearing out of the darkness to the woman's right. As was his custom, he had his hands folded together inside the sleeves of his robe, and he favored the woman with a look of concerned reproach as he spoke. “The Prophecy is not meant for her.”

The woman looked at him. “Isn't it? Didn't you know what would happen when you passed your abilities on to her? You knew she would be special, but you didn't stop to think just how special. Horace, there hasn't been anyone like her anywhere in existence since the day I died. If the Prophecy is not meant for her, then who, pray tell, is it meant for?”

“You know she's right, Horace,” another man, younger than either of the other two, but still advanced in years, said as he emerged from the darkness. “It would be wrong to keep it from her any longer.”

“But we all agreed to protect her, Erasmus. All of us!” Horace turned to the woman he'd called “Mother.” “Even you.”

“Don't I have a say in all of this?” Zoe asked.

The others stopped talking and looked at her. As they did, Zoe suddenly had the impression she was being looked at by far more than just three people. Of course I am, she thought. They're all the others who came before me. All the other Abbotts. And the woman – Mother – is the ultimate source of our abilities. She was the first of our Order. Or the last of the one that preceded it.

“Of course you do, child,” the woman said.

“Then tell me the Prophecy.”

And so they told her. Zoe didn't know how long she listened, but, since this had to be a dream, time didn't matter. The Prophecy turned out to be more about Thaddeus than her, though, if it came true, she would still have a very prominent role to play in the events that were to unfold. The Prophecy terrified her, and it also saddened her, and when the others were done telling it to her, they faded away into the darkness. All of them save the woman, whom Zoe had learned was once named Ilya Catharzen.

“You have a hard road ahead of you, child,” Mother Catharzen said. “However, like all prophecies, not every piece of this one may come to pass. Use what we have told you as a guide. Don't look on it as a doom that has been placed upon you.” She gave a sudden smile. “You love him very much, don't you?”

“I do, Mother,” Zoe said.

“Cherish that love, then, and never cease to show it. Love has undone prophecies in the past. There's no telling what it will do, this time.”

“I will, Mother. You're not leaving me, are you?”

Mother Catharzen reached out and put her hand on Zoe's arm. “As long as you live, I will be here, child. As will all the others.”

Zoe smiled, blinking away the tears in her eyes. And then she woke up.

Zoe opened her eyes, blinking a few times as she allowed herself to come fully awake. Turning her head to the side, she was presented with the sight of Thaddeus sitting up on the side of his bed, his eyes closed and his sword – still sheathed in its scabbard – draped across his lap. Almost as soon as Zoe's gaze fell upon him, Thaddeus opened his eyes, and when he turned them toward her, Zoe had to fight down the urge to gasp. Thaddeus's eyes were glowing.

“I was hoping you'd wake up, soon,” Thaddeus said, smiling. “There's so much I know, now. So much I remember.”

Zoe sat up, eyeing Thaddeus warily. But what was there to be wary about? The glow coming from Thaddeus's eyes was faint, and there was nothing unusual about its blue tint. Still, confronted as she was with visual proof that the man she loved could now touch – and, presumably, wield – magic, Zoe couldn't help but feel a little uneasy. “What do you remember, Thaddeus?” Zoe asked.

“Where I found this sword,” Thaddeus said, gesturing at it. “It was in my father's tomb.”

“Your father's tomb?”

“After you divided me, the part of me you sent to join the Holy Knights fell into a trance of some sort and was drawn to a location not far from the abbey. It turned out to be an Eltaran barrow, though from the outside it looked like nothing more than a somewhat out of place hill. It opened up when I approached it, and when I stepped inside, I found a sword in the hands of the effigy that had been carved on the surface of the sarcophagus. Somehow – probably part of the trance I was in – I knew the sword was meant for me, and when I took it, and saw the face of the effigy, I knew the tomb I was in was my father's.” Thaddeus looked down at the sword. “It seems that the Sword Priests who were appointed to guard the book that held Atraxos the Black were not, in fact, the last of the True. My father, however, was.”

Zoe was sure that she knew what somewhat out of place hill Thaddeus was referring to. On foot, it had been about a day north of the abbey, and Zoe remembered how, once, Horace had warned her to never go near it. Had Horace known what it was? And why had it not been a part of the Prophecy her predecessors had related to her in her dream?

“Do you remember anything else?” Zoe asked.

“No,” Thaddeus said. He looked back up at her, and when he did, his eyes had stopped glowing. “Nothing of any consequence, anyway. But, Zoe, I can do so much more, now. And it's not just because of the spells the Wanderer part of me learned. Zoe, I don't even think I really need spells, anymore. My thoughts are so much clearer than they used to be, so much more focused. It's like I've suddenly come out of a haze I wasn't even aware of before.”

“And how does that make you feel?”

Thaddeus laughed and shook his head. “It's exhilarating,” he said. “But it's also bloody frightening. Zoe, I have no idea what my limits are, anymore. I'm not even sure I still have them.”

Though Zoe had never commanded the level of power Thaddeus now did, she knew how he felt. Long ago, back during her initial training as a cleric, she had been frightened herself when she'd learned how much magic she could wield with nothing but a well-focused thought. Initially, Zoe's fear of herself had made her not want to use magic, at all – or, at least, not without the buffer of a spoken spell – but, after a while, she had realized she could rely on herself to impose limits on her actions, using her own conscience, and the counsel of her teachers, as a guide. “I don't know very much about what a Battlemage can do,” Zoe said. “In fact, until I put you back together, I'd never even heard that word, before. But, I'm pretty sure I know you, and I know what kind of person you are. Let that be your limit. Let that be your guide. Do that, and you'll never have a reason to fear yourself and what you can do.”

Thaddeus was silent for a time, his gaze far away. “I'm not sure I can do that, Zoe,” he said at last. “I'm not sure how well I know myself, anymore. There are parts of me, now, that are . . . darker than they were, before.”

Zoe had been expecting Thaddeus to say something like that – the growing darkness of his nature had been very much a part of the prophecy, as had the role she was supposed to play in leavening that darkness – but it still broke her heart to hear it. Now was not the time for Thaddeus to see weakness from her, however, and so Zoe reached out and put her hand on his knee. “I can help you with that,” she said. “Do you trust me?”

Thaddeus's eyes found hers. He smiled. “Of course I do, Zoe. I love you.”

Cherish that love, then, Mother Catharzen had said, and never cease to show it. Zoe leaned across what little gap remained between them and they kissed.

And that was when the stone door that sealed their sleeping chamber off from the rest of the Guardian's dwelling exploded violently inward, the force of the blast throwing them both across the room and against the far wall. The last thing Zoe thought before she lost consciousness was that it was too soon for her to die – there was still too much of the Prophecy left to fulfill.