Magisterium (27 page)

If she didn’t allow it a release, it would destroy her. The flames between her and Sturges flared nearly white-hot. Sturges dropped to his knees, overcome, his skin blistering. One push and he would be consumed. Aamon grabbed Glenn’s coat in both hands and pulled until Glenn’s face was only inches from his, blocking out everything else.

“This is not who you are.”

Glenn looked past him to where Sturges gasped helplessly,

surrounded in flames. Hatred pounded inside her like a fist on a door, begging to be released.

“I swear to you,” Aamon said. “If you kill him, you will never be Glenn Morgan again. There are things you can never take back.”

“Glenn! We have to go. Now!”

Kevin was kneeling in the wagon’s seat over her mother. Her skin was ghastly pale and there was a growing pool of blood underneath her. Every time she breathed, she shuddered and bit her lip to keep from screaming. Glenn’s head buzzed, torn in two directions at once. She ached to release the flames and destroy Sturges — for her mother, for Kevin, for everything.

Her mother’s blue eyes were fading. Her skin, which had seemed smooth and taut, was growing gray. Glenn could smell the blood all around her, could feel its heat.

Aamon took Glenn’s arm in one hand and held her tightly.

“Glenn. She’s dying.”

Sturges dropped to his knees when the flames disappeared,

tearing at his clothes for relief.

Glenn pushed away all the voices that surrounded her. She

gathered her mother and Kevin and Aamon up within her Affinity and leapt into the air, leaving Sturges and the border behind.

Glenn crumpled into the grass outside of Opal’s house. The forest and the river were thick with life and they pulled at her from every direction. Her mother’s body tumbled out of her arms.

“Watch her, Kevin. Keep her here,” Aamon instructed as he lifted Glenn’s mother and ran toward the house.

Glenn hadn’t known where else to go, but now that she was here, it seemed like madness. She clamped her eyes shut, trying to block out a pack of wolves that prowled in the trees and the molten heart of the earth that turned below. It was too much. Dizzy, Glenn fell against Kevin.

“It’s going to be okay,” he said, his lips hovering over her ear.

His arms were around her, his chest bracing her back. His concern for her was like a physical force, battering at her. Glenn pushed herself away from him and onto her hands and knees in the grass. She bit her lip and the snap of it knocked her back into herself for a moment, but the world was everywhere and it was strong. She was slipping away.

I am Glenn Morgan
, she thought, pounding her fist into the grass.

I am Glenn Morgan.

The more she repeated the words, the more meaningless they

sounded. Wind howled across the river and through the trees. The forest shook and a window shattered behind her. Kevin was at her side, saying something, but it was the buzzing of a fly to Glenn, drowned out by all the other noises. Lightning slashed through the clouds, and the sky rumbled. There was only one blank spot around her, only one place devoid of Affinity. Glenn threw Kevin’s arms aside and got to her feet, wheeling back toward the house. Who were they to tell her where she should be and what she should do? Who were they to tell her anything?

“Glenn!”

Without turning, she caused the fabric of the air to flex, knocking Kevin to the ground with a grunt. The house’s front door crashed open.

The inside seemed so tiny and delicate to Glenn, like a doll’s house.

The walls shook and the plates and jars of herbs rattled on the table as she moved to the little room where her mother lay sprawled on a bed, surrounded by a halo of blood. Glenn stood in the doorway, watching as Aamon tried to staunch the wound.

Her mother was small and thin, nothing like the creature that had hovered in front of the wagon with Kevin in her grasp. Her hands seemed smaller than Glenn remembered. Instead of smooth alabaster, they were the color of ash and marred with wrinkles. Her lustrous black hair was streaked with white. Her arms were as frail as matchsticks.

“What happened to her?” Glenn asked. It was a struggle to push each word out. Her voice sounded strange, deep and distorted.

“This is what she is now, without her Affinity.”

Aamon tossed away the bloody rag he was using and grabbed a fresh one from a dresser nearby. He pressed it into her and the blood swam into it, filling it in moments. She thrashed weakly, still unconscious. Glenn thought of Cort, she thought of the boy in Haymarket.

“You should let her die.”

Aamon’s gaze pierced the room between them. “You don’t mean that,” he said. “Opal is in the back, mixing herbs for her. You should go help her. Let me —”

Glenn raised her hand and Aamon shot into the air. She held him there, her eyes locked on the snowy field at his throat, something distant stirring inside her.

“She’s here because of you.”

Aamon tried to speak, but Glenn lifted her other hand to his throat and silenced him.

“Bringing her back here destroyed this world and mine too,”

Glenn said. “That’s why you pray for forgiveness.”

The voices of Affinity surged into her. The forest, the air, a flight of birds. Glenn seized with pain and slammed Aamon against the wall behind him. There was a crash and his eyes went dim as he slid down the wall and collapsed into a pile on the floor.

The room was quiet then except for the moaning of wind outside and the snap of guttering candles. Glenn stood at the foot of the bed, looking down at her mother as the blood drained out of her.

The bracelet sat on one wrist, a flat gray shackle, locking her mother inside its invisible borders. Glenn let her fingers brush against the metal. If she took it off, would she be able to connect with her mother like she did with the forest and the river? Could Glenn make her see what her leaving had done to her and her father?

Better yet, could she make her feel it?

Glenn took the band of metal and began to pull.

“Glenn!”

There was a rush of movement behind her. Glenn turned and

reached for the floor, shattering the timbers and sending Opal down to her knees. But then there was a stabbing pain in her arm. Glenn shoved it away, yet the room slipped out from under her feet. Something sick and jagged was spreading through her veins. Poison. The walls spun and Glenn found herself on the ground, her cheek pressed to the cracked wood floor. She tried to summon the wind or the heat of the earth, but her head was swimming. Darkness was gathering at the edges and pressing in.

Glenn moaned. With her last scrap of consciousness, she lifted her head off the floor and saw Kevin Kapoor standing over her, in his hand a golden dagger with poison gleaming at its tip.

The next time Glenn opened her eyes, the world tasted flat and bitter in her mouth, like a penny on her tongue. Her stomach churned and the walls wouldn’t stay in one place.

Glenn’s hands were splayed out on cold stone. It was dark. Her head stung. Impressions of the world outside flickered past — a storm, a flock of birds, the planet’s drifting plates — but all of it was farther away than it had been before. Muted, as if she was deep within the earth or wrapped in a cocoon. Where was she? How did she get here?

“Glenn?”

The voice was vaguely familiar but drawn out and indistinct, as if it came from the end of a very long tunnel.

“Can we move her?” A boy’s voice.

“No.” A woman this time.

“Should we give her more?”

“More could kill her.”

More of what?
Glenn tried to look up, but her head seized in pain.

“They’ll be here soon,” said the boy. “Aamon says they’re

pouring through the border.”

“How many?”

“Thousands. Bombardments are destroying everything within a mile of the border. Aamon says Karaman and Redfield are overrun.”

One of the voices moved through the darkness and lowered itself down next to her. Through the haze something familiar washed over her, the feeling of rough wool on her fingertips. Warm skin and the smell of cloves.

“Glenn?”

Skin intersected hers, sending ripples of heat through Glenn’s body. She opened her eyes slowly and saw his, deep brown and framed in thick lashes. A splash of blood was on his cheek.

“Glenn, it’s Kevin.”

Kevin. Gold flashed in her mind’s eye, and despite a jolt of pain, Glenn shot away from him, farther out into the dark, hidden. She squinted against the candlelight on the other side of the low-ceilinged room. Kevin. Opal. A ladder rose to another floor behind them. They were underground. Glenn invited the wind or the earth to come and knock them aside. The walls shuddered, but that was all. When Glenn tried to stand, her legs balked and a wave of nausea sent her crashing back down onto the stone. She turned her head and was sick on the floor.

“What did you do to me?”

“It’s nightshade,” Kevin said, his body distorting as he

approached.

“Poison.”

“Medicine,” he insisted. “It separates you from Affinity for a while.”

Glenn’s stomach clenched, but there was nothing left inside her.

Time leapt forward. Now the woman was standing by her side with a small bowl in her hands. A brackish green liquid sloshed in the center of it.

“Drink this.”

Glenn pushed it away.

“It helps with the side effects. You’ll feel better.”

Glenn squinted up at the boy. The candlelight in the room

stabbed at her eyes, yet for a moment his form solidified and he was Kevin Kapoor again. Glenn’s stomach churned. Her hand trembled as she reached for the bowl in Opal’s hands. It smelled dimly of licorice.

Glenn shut her eyes and forced herself to swallow.

When she was done, her head fell back against the stone wall, and as she looked up at the dark rafters, snippets of the outside world filtered down. It was night now, and cold. A bird of prey glided far overhead while the earth drew up around her in tight hillocks. The river water flowed by, swift and cold and full of darting life. It was like a dream Glenn kept slipping into.

“Listen to my voice,” Opal urged, squeezing Glenn’s hand.

“Block out the others.”

“I’m fine,” Glenn insisted and pulled her hand from Opal’s.

Kevin and Opal were kneeling in front of her. Their outlines were solid enough, but the air around them pulsed and wavered. Glenn braced herself for another sick lurch, but it didn’t come. Slowly, the nausea faded and the clang and thump behind her eyes eased.

“What do you remember?” Opal asked.

“Sturges,” Glenn said, unsure, trying to stitch frayed ends together. “Then we were here and …” Glenn paused. “Aamon. Is he

—?”

“He’s fine,” Kevin said, his voice low and soothing. “He’s

outside keeping watch. Your mom’s alive, but she lost a lot of blood.

Glenn, I didn’t know. I had no idea that she was —”

“What’s happening now?” Glenn said, cutting him off.

“Everything you remember was two days ago,” Opal said. “When the Magistra fell, Sturges saw his chance and began his bombardment.

His soldiers are crossing the border now.”

“What about the Magisterium’s army?”

“There are skirmishes, but the Magistra has been doing their fighting for the last ten years. They’re no match for Sturges’s troops.”

“Aamon says we fall back,” Kevin said, stepping forward to

steady her with a hand on her arm. “Everyone. Give up ground to gain time and reorganize.”

Glenn flattened her palms against the wall and awkwardly

worked her way up until she was standing, her legs quivering like a baby’s.

“I can’t stay here,” Glenn said. “Without the bracelet …”

“We’ll talk to Aamon,” Kevin said. “Find a way to get you

home.”

“Fine,” Glenn said. “Let’s go.”

As Glenn took a step toward the ladder, a sharp pain seared through the nightshade, knocking her to the floor in a heap. Miles away, Glenn couldn’t tell where, the air was torn apart by massive explosions, just like the ones she felt in Bethany. Glenn didn’t see it or hear it so much as feel it, a wave of violence reaching out and smashing into her, like an exploding star. It was a town, hundreds of people, mostly women and children. The cataclysm came without any warning. Houses, the work of the people’s bare hands, were ripped apart. The ground torn open. Bodies. Glenn retched as they fell with sickening thumps onto the ground, the life pouring out of them. There was a pause, and then a great rushing sound as the grief of the survivors washed over Glenn.