Blue Moon (41 page)

She felt her sister's hand on her shoulder. Libby sort of smiled at her as she sang, and Rita smiled back. Then Libby joined her hands together in front of her and swung her joined fists as hard as she could into Rita's jaw. Rita collapsed, and sank into nothingness.

Libby pointed at the Stone; its crazy spinning ground slowly to a halt. Above her, the shadow in the sky stopped. The Stone caught her attention, and she watched, fascinated.

"It's going away,” Sabin said.

His mother turned to go back to the cavern.

"What are we going to do?"

"Kill the little bitch, then try again. Her sister knows the song now."

"We could just cut out her eyes,” Sabin suggested, thinking longingly of all the nasty little tortures he had planned for her.

"It's not her eyes. She's been given the power of the Lady of the Lake.” She knelt, picked up a stick and straightened it, sharpened the point. She whispered to it, then nodded. “We will take care of her, then you will go up there and turn the Stone's rotation back the other way. Then everything will be alright and I won't kill you. Understand?"

Libby saw the world and understood why those who knew it capitalized the words. The World. With every line of the song, she saw its wonders. She saw the Isle of Atlantis, the peaks of Olympus, the golden walls of Camelot. She felt it, smelled it, lived it. It belonged to her, during the song—the heartbeat of it, the soul of it, the millions of little things that lived and crept upon it. She felt power like sweet golden wine replace the blood in her veins. She approached the last line of the song, and dreaded it.

Then the song ended. She stepped away from the world, and felt bereft. Strong hands caught her as her knees gave away.

"Do you see?” Zorovin's voice echoed in her head. She knew the question was more personal.
Do you see why you can't keep him?

"Yes,” she said. She clung to Zorovin for a moment, and he smiled slightly.

"Good work,” he whispered. “Your will is strong. You have done what is right, despite great temptation."

She did not know, this time, if he spoke of the world, or of his son.

She stood under her own power again and backed away a little. Below her, the Black Queen smiled. She took her spear, drew her arm back and hurled it, black as night.

Alex did not see it but felt it coming. He grabbed Libby, trying to pull her back inside. He felt it pierce his shoulder and go into hers. Her eyes widened and rolled back as she fainted.

"Hold her!” he shouted, his knees weakening, but he still held her up while Zorovin raised his hand to put up a shield to fend off any more.

"It's barbed,” Dashiel told him. “Taking it out will do more damage than it did going in."

"I think it's poisoned,” Alex said. Dashiel stood behind Libby, offering support. Alex tried to hold on to her, but his arms didn't want to work. He felt a haze go over him, and sank to the ground.

"It's not bad,” Zorovin said soothingly. “That they should choose this type of poison is an insult to my powers."

There was a snapping sound as he broke the flared end off the shaft. Alex felt cold hands pull him off the shaft. He tried to sit up. He didn't hurt, was just sleepy. He shrugged out of his coat.

"You're making it worse,” Dashiel protested.

"I'll hold it over the wound,” Alex said.

"Nay, let it bleed while I take care of the woman,” Zorovin ordered.

"Won't he bleed to death?” Dashiel asked.

"He's a dragon. Dragons...” He said it a little louder, for his son's benefit. “...do not bleed to death."

Libby moaned quietly. She sat in his father's arms while Zorovin forced the spear all the way through then set her down gently. Her blood flowed freely. Zorovin looked at the spear, sniffed at it, then stepped to the edge.

"Is this the best you have, Dark One?” he called. He hefted it, and threw it into the swirl of ley lines below.

He turned and wrote small runes around Libby's wound, then around his son's, in their own blood. He knelt down beside Libby again. “I have countered the poison with my own power, but it is up to you to close the wound. Use the power that has been passed on to you to will it shut. This is something my son should already be working on."

Alex took the hint. The bleeding and his father's magic had dissipated some of the effects of the poison, and he could feel his head clearing. He willed his body to mend, supplemented and sped up things with the magic he could feel close to him.

He touched Libby's mind gently with his and showed her by example, cutting through the “It hurts” and “Leave me alones” to the part of her mind that was struggling to obey his father, leading her gently through the steps. Her mind was quick, and grasped what she had to do; and he realized that part of her already held the knowledge—she just needed someone to guide her through the pain.

"That is the ugliest healing job I've ever seen.” Zorovin inspected Alex's shoulder. Alex could feel his father's anger, and it confused him. “You've gotten sloppy,” Zorovin said, standing up.

Before his father's touch left him he felt angry accusation.

Zorovin turned to help Libby to her feet. He took the purple magic out of the bag and placed it over the Stone. Alex stood and held the bag open so his father could slip the magic-encased Merlin Stone into it.

Dashiel had run a quick reconnaissance. “Guys? We have company. Sabin and the Shadows."

Libby looked up at the large black circle that partially covered the sky. The moon was just coming out from behind it, so it was receding, albeit slowly.

"Alright,” she said, sighing. She looked at Zorovin. “He's too weak to fly."

"I know this."

"Elizabeth!” a voice called from below. “We're coming."

Libby took the bag and smiled. She kissed Alex.

"I'm sorry,” she told them, and holding the stone against her heart, she stepped backward off the ledge.

Alex threw himself flat, grabbing for her. A few strands of her hair slipped through his fingers, and then she was gone, swallowed by the blue magic below. He couldn't do anything, not catch her, not go after her, not change and be of any help to her, and the failure engulfed him.

Getting slowly to his feet, he discoverd Sabin in the doorway. His hatred for the man filled him, and he drew Libby's knife, and rushed him.

The blade impaled the arm Sabin raised to defend himself. The spell of lightning the woman next to him created had engulfed Alex, but it only fed his power. The knife, now charged with current, sank into flesh, cleaved bone, and pieced Sabin's heart.

He felt something scrabbling, climbing up the blade. Alex looked inside his mind.

—
I'm dying,
a voice that was not Sabin's said, a little shocked.

"Where can I go?” Sabin asked, casting his gaze around for escape.

That darkness that had scrabbled up the blade Alex dared not yet remove was Sabin, and he placed half an eye on taking over the weakened dragon.

—
Oh, no,
the other presence said.
You aren't going anywhere.

And calling back all the will that had abandoned him years before, Jonathan wrapped his Self around Sabin, locking him in.

—
I did good?
he asked, although his question was directed at another, greater Force than Alex.

—
Yes,
Alex assured him nevertheless, finished the thrust.
You did.
He yanked the blade free as the light in Sabin's eyes faded forever.

He backed away, noticing the cuts on his father's cheek. The elven woman, Sabin's mother, had thrown burning rocks at him; his clothes were smoldering. Zorovin responded with an intense blast of fire. She laughed, her red hair whipping in the wind as she raised a shield to block him.

Far away, three crouched over a silver mirror.

"Now,” Morganna whispered, and the three joined hands. Melnue threw herself forward, imagined her hand penetrating the Black Queen. Two others joined hers, seized the parts that belonged to her and yanked back hard.

The Black Queen's eyes widened. Her face changed. Her hair became streaming black. She fell to one knee, and Zorovin, never one to miss an opportunity, pulled a blade out of the magic-soaked air. It slit her throat, the blade melting into her blood. She fell sideways onto the stones.

Zorovin opened his hands, and the rest of the sword disappeared.

"Ulia is dead. Now the world may truly forget her."

Libby fell a long time pulled along by the force coming from the Stone in her hands. It was as if the talisman were guiding her. The magic glow began to dim, everything became dark, and she closed her eyes and slept.

When she opened them again, she was lying on her back, stone filling her sight. She had only one hand on the bag now, and she lay half in water, half on sand. She sat up, and realized she was underground.

Standing on shaky legs, she hefted the Stone back up into her arms and made her way to the back of the cave. The shape through the material was different, and she peeked inside. The Stone had absorbed the purple magic completely, and pulsated in indigo.

White marble steps, the treads worn by many feet, led upwards, and she could see daylight at the top. It was not a long way, but she had to stop and lean against the wall several times, the stone as heavy as a corpse. It weighed on her, sapping not just the strength of her arms but of her soul.

The stairs opened into a room. She wondered who she would meet there. Sabin? Alex?

She met neither. At a desk in front of the windows sat a very, very old man.

"Hello?” she called.

He looked up. Between his lustrous white eyebrows and beard, she could hardly make out his face. His gaze settled on the Stone.

He went back to his writing. “Put it on the table, then,” he said.

She did as she was bid then wandered over to the worn velvet couch in front of the windows. The snow was thick outside. She shivered.

"Are you Merlin?” she asked after a time.

"Yes,” he muttered, “and no."

She looked out at the sky. The moon was huge, blue. In the center of it, a perfectly round disk.

"The shadow's still there,” she said. “Have I failed?"

He stopped writing with a sigh. “That ought to do it.” He put aside what he had been working on and stood. “Perhaps. You've stopped the worlds from crashing together but didn't take the time to put things right."

She turned. “I was sort of interrupted,” she pointed out.

Merlin pulled at the hole in her shirt. The wound was pink and still somewhat sore.

"I suppose so,” he conceded.

"What did you mean, yes and no? Who are you?"

"An echo,” he said. He smiled, a wizened, benevolent grin. “I died years ago, when I came to this mountain. I haven't seen another living soul this close for three hundred years. But since I cannot truly die until the world does, my body still moves. But still, I am just an echo, a copy of a copy of the original."

"How can I finish what I've started? I need to fix the worlds back into their places.” She looked out at the snow, sparkling blue and unbroken. “I want to go home."

"I can't help you,” Merlin said regretfully. “I can keep you company, I can tell you stories, but I can't help you."

"I know.” Libby sighed, with the complete tiredness that takes over when hope is gone. “You're just an echo."

Zorovin knelt by the edge of the balcony. It was only his grip on his son's shoulder that had kept Tor'Vanith from following Libby. He would have died. It would have been a foolish, meaningless gesture.

He could no longer bear to look at his son's face, so he turned to look at Rita instead.

"What are you so pleased about?” he snapped.

"It's good enough,” she said. “With the Merlin Stone gone, the worlds will orbit each other this way forever. The magic will flow back and forth through the new connections. I'm happy.” She closed her eyes and hummed the drawing song her sister had taught her.

He looked at the gathered forces of the Shadow King, still waiting for his cue. “You're not the only one."

He grabbed her by her shoulders and shook her. Her eyes snapped open, and he held her gaze, searching inside her.

"No,” she whispered as he clawed past the layers of protection.

He saw them all, sitting there inside her mind—Rita-Sierra ... and the ghost. He recognized
her
with a start.

Just as Sabin had possessed the body of the human to keep his life going, so had the ghost, long ago, possessed Morganna. It was a willing possession. Morganna had hungered for the power the ghost would bring, but had not realized the price that power demanded.

Then Merlin came and ripped the ghost out of Morganna, binding it to the Stone. The ghost had taken on some of Morganna's imprint, so that she looked and thought and acted just like Morganna, except without the humanity, without the kindness and mercy that sometimes tempered her actions.

Rita, being who she was, Libby's half-sister and one of Sabin's obsessions, had been perfect to carry the ghost, the perfect weapon against her sister.

He struck out with his mind, pushing the ghost out of the way, grabbing Rita-Sierra and dragging her forward, back into dominance of her own body.

"Zorovin! Oh God, Zorovin.” She began to weep. “I can't ... Help me, I don't know what I've done."

He looked back over his shoulder to where Tor'Vanith—no, he told himself, to where
Alex
—crouched, searching the river below. Dashiel sat, alert, leaning against Alex, hopelessly searching as well. Zorovin knew they would not find her. She was not even on this world anymore.

"Sierra,” he said, taking her face in his hands.

He kissed her hard, so much so that in Rita-Sierra's mind she wasn't sure if it was a out of passion or if he were drawing out poison. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she held him tightly; she could feel him inside her head again, wrapping his will around the thing that occupied her.

He pulled away abruptly, and pain arched through her head as he ripped the presence out of her skull. He walked purposely toward the edge of the platform. Was one of his eyes beginning to take on a greenish cast?