Kashur

The chamber whined as another tremor rocked it.

“‘Tis going to blow!” Bayne cried.

Yelora turned her face into Kashur’s chest. He hugged her against him, burying his face in her hair, brain pumping like a steam engine. Ivy was the opal. She was the opal. How was that possible?

It didn’t matter, because she was going to die. Nyla was going to die.

No, not Nyla. Ivy. Except...

An explosion of understanding wracked him along with the shaking chamber, the pieces falling into place.

He couldn’t let her die.

Casting a time-lapse spell to buy himself time, Kashur scanned his surroundings for anything that could shield her from the immense explosion of power that was about to come. A protection spell would not be enough, especially if he was also knocked out when the force hit. He scoured his memory for a spell, anything he’d learned in his schooling. Petty magic, material magic. Even his curse.

His curse! The convergence was not yet over. His curse was still there, asleep, latent, awaiting its fate.

Kashur looked at his bare hands. Terris help me, he pleaded. I just found her again. I don’t want to lose her!

He could grow anything alive to create a protective shell over her, but the only things alive here were the alien gardens. There were no trees, no grass, not even a patch of mold. In fact, the only natural thing in the room was the bubbling spring at the bottom of the pool. Was it his imagination, or did the water seem to have a face? A grimacing face on a small, grimacing head made of water.

Oh, you blessed little pain in the ass! Kashur thought, overflowing with affection.

But it was too far away to reach. For his power to work he had to touch it. If he couldn’t do that, he was useless. And, even with the time lapse, he doubted there was time to extricate himself from Bayne and Yelora and drag his dying body over to it. And if he passed out from pain, the spell would lapse.

But his curse wasn’t his only power. Kashur was a Wizard, and not only a Wizard— he was a Summoner. He could use that.

The words spilling forth from his throat, his hands moving almost without thinking, Kashur called into being a second Baby Elemental made of water—a perfect replica of the one in the fountain. It would only last a short while, it was only a shadow of the real thing, but it had the one thing the real Baby Elemental didn’t...

It was within his reach.

He plunged his hands into it. And it grew. Like a new spring rising up from below the earth, the Summoned Elemental swelled into a tide, mixing with the original one, expanding exponentially until they flooded the chamber with water just as Kashur’s time lapse crumbled and the crystal garden erupted into a blinding, deafening vortex of power. The water closed over Kashur’s head and he squeezed his eyes shut as the force of the explosion shoved against him like an Elemental itself. He felt Bayne gripping his cloak and Yelora groping for him. His hand closed around hers, and they held on as the water heaved and surged over and around them, buoying them like an underwater volcano up to the jagged edges of the shattered dome. Kashur managed to hook a leg around a section of the metal scaffolding of the dome to keep them from being washed out of the castle. Yelora and Bayne followed his lead and grabbed on as well. They braced themselves against the surge of water roaring out of the top of the dome; fighting the force of what was practically a horizontal waterfall. At the same time, the clouds above churned, flashing with pink lightning and dumping rainfall down upon them in a deluge. It was as if all the water in Terris had come together at this moment, to serve this singular purpose.

Bayne and Kashur and Yelora huddled together against the edge of the dome until the swells finally eased and the water level began to drop, carrying them with it. Only then did Kashur realize he was still clutching Yelora’s hand.

He snatched his bare hand back in horror. What had he done? In invoking his power to save Ivy he’d nullified Mol Morin’s revocation of his curse. He still aged or grew everything he touched. And how long had he been holding onto Yelora? At least fifteen minutes, far longer than even an Elf’s extended lifetime could abide.

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But as she treaded water opposite him, she didn’t appear any older. Her skin was still smooth, her cheeks plump, her lips full and pink.

He gaped at his hands. The backs of them were olive and healthy-looking, although his palms still had the mottled sign of the curse. Something had changed, but what exactly?

His curse wasn’t the only thing that had changed. His wound no longer hurt. Yelora and Bayne had been healed as well.

“Ivy!” Bayne cried, swimming, albeit terribly—like a panicking goat, in fact—toward an expertly crafted wooden raft with a small figure lying on it.

Kashur swam to intercept it. The waters were continuing to recede, and now his feet could even touch ground. He spun the raft around. Gingerly, he brushed the dark hair from Ivy’s face, still afraid to touch anyone.

“How is she?” Bayne sputtered. Too short to reach bottom, he was still treading water painfully.

Kashur took pity on him and stuck out a knee for him to stand on. “She’s alive.”

It was true. While unconscious or at least asleep, the little girl’s color was good, and she was breathing.

“Hey there, squirt. You still with us?” Kashur asked.

Ivy’s eyes fluttered open. She smiled and raised her head.

“She did it!” Yelora breathed, looking around. The water had receded down to her waist, and Bayne was able to stand on his own now. “There’s no sign of the Celestiri, or the crystal gardens, either.”

“The transformer worked,” Bayne said with a big cheesy grin. “Just like it was supposed to. It converted the foreign energy into something Terris could use.” He touched his head, where Ronith had bludgeoned him with the machine. “Something we could use, too.”

“But the flood,” Yelora said to Kashur. “That was your doing.”

Kashur cringed as the water burbled up beside him, but it was only the Elemental forming. No longer a baby, it loomed over them in a giant watery body. “Well, Ivy needed something to insulate her, and this guy had room to grow.” He squeezed the corners of the raft. “He’s got impressive craftsmanship, too. Look at this thing!”

“And look at you.” Yelora grabbed his bare hand. He pulled back from her touch automatically, but she held on. “Even though you used your power, the curse was still lifted.”

“I don’t think so.” He turned his hand over and showed her the mottled palm. “But, I feel like maybe it’s different.” He touched the raft again, this time calling on his power to grow things. A sprout popped out of the end of the wooden branch, unfurling into three fresh leaves.

“You can control it!” Yelora said.

“I suppose I can.” He stared at his hand. He wasn’t sure how he felt about this turn of events. He’d wanted the power gone. He’d never asked for it. Never wanted it. Always wanted to just be normal. But it had saved Ivy, maybe even saved him and his friends, and it had helped heal Terris. Maybe having a power like this wasn’t so bad, if he could control it.

Movement caught his eye on the far side of the chamber. Most of the bodies from the battle had been washed out of the room, and most of the injured were healed and able to fend for themselves, but someone was struggling to hold himself above the waterline. Kashur recognized him by his robes.

Mol Morin.

Excusing himself, Kashur sloshed his way over to the Alchemist, catching his mentor’s head before it went under. Mol Morin was hardly recognizable. His eyes, which had at one time been warm and brown, had turned purple with his addiction, and now were chalky with cataracts. His skin was loose, hanging on an almost skeletal frame. It was like the Celestial energy had acted as a cancer, eating away at him from the inside.

“Sir,” he said, voice cracking on the word.

“My Summoner,” Mol Morin rasped. “My boy. I can’t see you, but I know it’s you.” He grasped Kashur’s bare hand. Was all this hand-holding normal? He’d only just been freed of his curse, and it seemed like there was a lot of touching going on. “You’re free of it, I see.”

“I am, Sir.” Kashur didn’t bother to go into the details.

A tear coursed down the Alchemist’s cheek. “I did what I thought I had to do to protect us. I didn’t want you to have to suffer the way I did. And I couldn’t go through it again—what I went through during the Rift War. Long life can be a curse as well as a blessing, Summoner. Remember that.”

Kashur wiped away a tear of his own. “I’ll remember.”

“It will be nice to rest, I think,” Mol Morin said, closing his ravaged eyes.

“You go ahead and rest, Sir. I’ll take care of everything.”

“I know you will,” Mol Morin said, patting Kashur’s hand. It was the last thing he said.

After handing Mol Morin’s body off to two Disciples, Kashur noticed that the Emperor was standing with the rest of their group. There were a couple more Dwarves, too, including a young man with a short beard and auburn curls.

Kashur joined them, running a sleeve across his face to hide a sniffle. “What did I miss?”

The Emperor spoke up. “We’re talking about next steps. First, we’ll have to bury the dead and destroy any gardens or crystals the floodwaters didn’t reach. Then there is the question of war crimes, not to mention what to do about these Goblins—”

“The Goblins will have a place,” Yelora interrupted. “They’re a part of Terris now. We’ll have to find a way to live with them.”

“I’m not sure I agree,” the Emperor argued.

“Me either,” a Dwarf added.

“Listen to me,” Yelora replied, “please.” Everyone quieted. “Darkness was here before the crystals ever arrived. For you Imperials, it was the lying, infighting and betrayal of your own. For the Dwarves, it was building weapons in secret. For the Wizards, your superiority complex. The Elementals asked the Elves to hide the evil they hoarded, and the Elves used that evil to try to treat the symptom of a disease I don’t know if we’ll ever cure.” She sighed. “Darkness lives among us. It is part of Terris and therefore it is a part of us, too. We must learn to live with it, but not let it overwhelm us. The Goblins stay.”

Kashur bobbed his head. “The Goblins stay. The Wizards will take responsibility and find them some lands.”

“No more killing,” Bayne agreed, and his colleagues nodded at him. “And we’ll dismantle the golems, too.”

“The Wizards don’t have to take full responsibility,” Yelora said. “We’ll provide some land. It’s not like the Elves have the numbers we used to.”

“Let’s bury our dead, take our people home for a rest, and call a Council in a week’s time,” the Emperor suggested.

“The Dwarves will host,” the young Dwarf piped up. “My name’s Rufiyor, by the way.” He bobbed a head toward Bayne. “Bayne’s my Da.”

Kashur raised his eyebrows as Bayne rocked back and forth on his toes, looking proud. “All right then. In a week’s time at a place specified by the Dwarves.”

As the group split up, Kashur stopped Ivy. “I think there’s something we need to tell Yelora, don’t we?”

The little girl nodded shyly.

“What is it?” Yelora asked, a bewildered look on her face.

Kashur caught her hand, letting his fingers twine with her. Maybe he liked this holding hands thing after all. “Ivy isn’t my sister’s daughter. She is my sister. Ivy is Nyla.”