CHAPTER 52
POSSESION
Kiethara pried her eyes open, only to be blinded by the dazzling sunlight. Her mind spun wildly as it tried to grasp what was happening; the blazing of her connection was not helping her think clearly. It was only until she could see past the sun and into the deep, bottomless pits above her did she realize what was happening.
“Blast!” she cried, Tinya’s words echoing in her ears. She went to roll out of her hammock, but she froze as fire erupted around her.
“Now, now,” Gandador said, clicking his tongue. “That connection of your’s is superb. I didn’t think you would wake up that fast.”
Kiethara leaned forward in her hammock very carefully so not to rock it. The two trees supporting her hammock were alight and the grass on either side of her was filled with tall flames. The heat was beginning to become unbearable as the tongues threatened to lick at the cloth of her hammock.
Gandador stood a few feet back now, his signature smirk playing across his face. His dark hair looked wild as it stuck out of his skull in odd directions. His eyes, however, looked wary.
“So, a life for a life, is that it? I didn’t realize that you were capable of killing. It has certainly…awakened me.”
With a jolt, Kiethara realized he had no idea about Markii’s existence. She wanted to keep it that way.
She could not respond, though; the flames were growing larger and she had to do something about them. With a sickening sense of recognition, she allowed the winds to pick up. Her crystals glowed bright as she snuffed out the flames.
Before Gandador could trap her again, she sprung out of her hammock and to her feet, her shield flying up as she turned to face him.
“Trinnia did not deserve to die!” she declared, fire in her voice and eyes.
“No?” he asked, appearing confused. “Don’t you love the boy? Trust me, child, he will adore you much more now that he doesn’t have that blond waltzing in front of him.”
Kiethara’s hands burst into flames.
“That didn’t take long,” he noted dryly. He began to walk around her, as a hawk circled its prey.
“Did you think Swallin deserved to die, then?”
“That was different,” she replied.
“Do you really believe that?”
“I was defending myself!” she cried. “You slaughtered the poor girl like an animal!”
“And what exactly did she do to deserve the life she had been blessed with?” he asked fiercely. “Child, you are getting on my last nerve! All this pity and made-up grief! Don’t fool yourself; you did not love the girl! You have no right to mourn for dear Trinnia when all you did was woo the boy she wanted to be involved with! Being a guardian has made you just as arrogant as your mother!”
“My mother was not—”
“The point is,” he continued loudly. “Trinnia’s life held no great significance; she performed no commendable deeds. Her heart beats were wasted on her.”
“As if you are one to judge that!” Kiethara yelled. “You killed her because she was normal?”
“Is that a note of envy I hear in your voice?” Gandador asked maliciously. “You have been granted power, dear child, and you’re wasting your energy pitying someone like Trinnia. I killed that girl because she was useless, weak, and incredibly selfish. If I were a guardian, I wouldn’t even have allowed that in the forest.”
She remembered her dream from last night and what Tinya had said to her. Gandador was saying the exact same thing.
“Everyone tells me that,” she whispered, flames disappearing along with her shield. Some new, powerful emotion was seeping through her. “They all think that…that I’m some higher being. That I’m worth more than anything else just because of who I was born as. Only because I possess this great power! But they’re wrong! Just because my death has a greater affect doesn’t mean my life is worth more.”
The grass at Kiethara’s feet wilted suddenly, but, instead of being dry, water pooled at her feet.
Gandador regarded her with new interest.
“Oh, but it does,” he whispered back. “Your life is very precious, especially to me.”
Kiethara blinked.
“You believe, perhaps, that Aaron cares for you the most? Aaron is only interested in one thing: the fact that the forest remains his.”
“So let’s pretend that’s true,” she said, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. “Even if that’s all he ever wanted, that’s still portraying more love than you.”
“I wasn’t exactly talking about love, but you’re…importance to me. For example, I now realize how foolish it was to even consider killing you. How foolish it was to try to kill your mother.”
“Is this remorse?” she asked, her eyebrows shooting up.
“Not at all, what is done is done. I only said I realized that even though I may not love you—the guardians do not deserve their power—I can’t just discard of it. Then I thought: who better to own it than me? Someone who truly appreciates the magic, someone who has skill and experience…and then I realized that that, too, is wrong.”
She felt her mouth drop open. Was he changing his plans again?
“One person cannot house all of this!”
He was suddenly right in front of her, his hands on her shoulders.
“I need to set it free like it once was,” he whispered. “I’ve realized now that this power should not be tamed. It needs to be free like it once was, before Aaron imprisoned it!”
“What?!” she gasped, too taken aback to use anything against him.
“There was a time when there was no guardian, no control! The forest used to pulsate with the magic it gives birth to! The power was free for anyone to take it just as you do now—simply by absorbing it! It wasn’t necessary to make potions or eat fruit, things that still only grant meager amounts. This power never used to be strangled and held down like it is now.”
Gandador’s calm expression was cracked like heated clay in the sun; his eyes were no longer dead, but filled with a fierce longing. His new idea had sparked passion.
And for some reason, this made her very angry.
It made her furious. Her rage whipped through her like a wild beast, her crystals ablaze with light as her new surge of emotion called for her power. For some reason, this new insanity hatched by her father was worse than any of his other ideas. Before, he was just a greedy man who wanted a bit of the glory she had. He only envied the magic at her disposal. He had hated her mother for it, and now he hated her. He had yearned for it to be gone, and then he had desired it for himself
But now he wanted everyone to have it.
Only one thought coursed through her head in response to that, a thought that dripped with possession, denial: no.
For it was hers. No one else owned this magic and no one else would. She was the guardian; she was its rightful owner. Who else was worthy of such an honor? All those soiled, weak souls could never house the amount of power she could.
Kiethara was vaguely aware—in some far corner of her mind—how fast the tables had turned. Voices all around her had whispered that she was worthy because she was a guardian. She had, however, denied all of them, telling them they were all equal.
Now she was practically screaming in her mind that only she deserved this power. The force inside her body felt so unlike her as it encouraged these thoughts to run rampant in her mind.
A tongue of fire followed her hand as it slashed through the air and knocked her father off his feet. He was quick to extinguish the flames on his traveling cloak, but, to her surprise, he did not retaliate.
“Aha!” he cried. “I see it there, in your eyes. The pride of the guardian, which you have been so falsely denying for so very long. Not so keen to part from your power, eh? No longer so interested in that ‘normal’ life Trinnia had?”
Kiethara opened her mouth, but no witty response befell her.
“Before you try to deny the truth,” he went on. “I think you misunderstand my intentions.
I would not just allow this magic to anyone. We would allow only those who have mastered the skill of wielding such an authority to come and be a part of it. We would build a kingdom in this forest and it would soon become much more powerful than any before it. This here is Aaron’s idea of a future: a young girl who is guarding more than she should, while the kingdoms around her slowly dwindle in their faith towards her and the forest. My idea of a future is much more…inviting, don’t you agree? Peace, and a population of good, deserved people who will work with more than just metal and rotting wood.”
“Population?!” she cried. “For a population consisting of only ‘your’ kind of people, you would have to kill of thousands! In case you haven’t notice, they don’t need to use magic to survive.”
“No, but they hate the people that do use it!” he spat. “With that attitude spreading throughout the kingdom like a disease, they will soon try to stamp us out, along with our power! I CAN’T LET THAT HAPPEN!”
“A man desperate for power,” she whispered softly. Gandador looked half-mad. She had never seen him display such emotion. “How pathetic.”
He smirked.
Her shield was thrown up just in time, but she still felt her heart beat irregularly as his sword glanced off of it. Her own sword and potions hung in the tree behind her…
Kiethara let her shield disappear and then kicked off the ground. And unexpected hand snatched up and grabbed her ankle.
Pain—burning pain like ice—coursed through her being. She flinched and let out a terrible scream. She lost focus on everything; she knew that there was no way she would stay in the air.
The hand pulled her ankle hard and flung her through the air. She landed hard in the tall grass. It took her a stunned moment to realize the unbearable torture had stopped, that her body was not being racked against crystal shards while be dunked in an icy river. Every inch of her throbbed, but she was almost relieved he had tossed her like some filthy rag…
“Stay down,” Gandador jeered.
“If it’s a dog’s company you seek, go order around your faithful pet Sinsenta,” she sneered back, rising to her feet.
“Ah, I would, but he’s busy watching over his son. My new apprentice, you know. If Aaron can have descendants, so can I.”
He paused, scanning over her with dark eyes.
“A descendant who isn’t trying to run me through.”
“Sorry to disappoint, father,” she hissed, the last word dripping with sarcasm.
She took a calming breath before allowing fresh bark to shoot up from the ground, knocking Gandador aside. She brought forth vines as well, but before they could find their target, it disappeared.
He reappeared right behind her. As soon as she spun around, however, he was gone again, reappearing in a tree across the clearing.
“Stop this foolishness! I know you don’t have enough magic to spare for that,” she yelled angrily.
“Oh, I’m not too concerned. This fight will end soon.”
This was far too risky and juvenile for a man she knew to be so careful, cunning, and mature. Who was this person before her? It seemed as though he was just playing with her.
“I don’t see where you’ve gained such confidence,” she said slowly. Her shield flew up; Gandador’s lack of caution seemed to trigger her own.
“No, I don’t believe you can see it right now,” he chuckled, as though he was enjoying some private joke.
Pieces were starting to fall together in Kiethara’s head. There was something hidden in his response; the way he said it grabbed her attention. The man she was observing wasn’t being carefree—he was happy. Ecstatic, even. The reason she had failed to notice it before was because she had never witnessed him display such emotion.
Kiethara’s fear increased; anything that made Gandador happy would not do the same for her.
Whatever it was, she wanted her sword. She felt naked without it, not to mention her potions.
She crept forward quietly and slowly, not wanting to make her advances obvious.
“What can’t I see?” she asked in hopes of distracting him.
Gandador gave another hallow chuckle and leapt from the tree and onto the grass. The only thing that stood between them was her hammock, and in the branches above her, her weapons.
“Do you recall your time in the kingdoms?” he asked suddenly.
“Of course,” she replied warily. She moved forward another step.
“Well, I was quite interested in how you came to be there. Especially in Nikkoi. At first, I figured you must have come for the boy. But that didn’t quite add up, for you were traveling the dangerous, dirty hole of Nikkoi on your own. As noble as I’m sure the boy is, he would have never let you wander off without him.”
“I could have been trying to find him in Redawn and had gotten lost on my way,” she pointed out. She stepped forward a couple more feet.
“You were too beaten and bruised for that,” he said dismissively. “It didn’t take me long to track down my answer. I have very good connections—the eyes and ears of the kingdoms, if you will—and your arrival did not go unnoticed. Four men in particular were called to my attention.”
Kiethara’s stomach dropped.
“After a little encouraging on my part, they told me the whole story. Separately, because they were no longer in business together. I actually had to kill the youngest of them, as I told you in my letter. Poor chap, for he seemed to want to protect you.”
She let out a small gasp, tears blooming in her eyes. She suddenly remembered what Gandador had said in his letter. How could she have forgotten? Everything else he had written had just made her so mad…she had burned it up…but she should have realized what Natal’s death meant.
“They captured you and had tried to sell you, but you escaped. What concerned me the most was how four non-magical men managed to kidnap you in the first place.”
Kiethara had finally reached her hammock. She looked up at her dangling weapons and prepared to snatch them down…
Gandador suddenly disappeared again. She held her breath as her connection went quiet and still for a moment, waiting…
With a blaze of awareness in her head, she felt him reappear behind her. She turned to him with a feeling of cold dread.
“Why, my dear, they did it with this.”
Gandador dangled a devastatingly beautiful necklace in front of her. Everything else faded away as she gaped at the large, black jewel, which seemed to be emitting a faint glow. Her heart stopped, her insides went cold, and her mind spiraled in the deepest despair.
It was really over now. There was no way she could win this battle, not when her opponent wielded the weapon of undeniable destruction. She felt it already sucking merciless at her magic; draining her of her power, her energy, and any means of hope. It had never been so clear that she stood gazing upon the face of death.
But she had training for this!
Aaron and she had gone over this situation countless times! Aaron, who wouldn’t even appear now to save her. She had a sword hanging feet above her, not to mention the unlimited supply of power from the forest through the connection in her head. She could regain the magic as quickly as she lost it.
With an enormous effort it seemed, especially for such a simple task, Kiethara reached up and ripped her sword off the branch. Blindly, because of the falling leaves that so resembled the twirling diamonds that encrusted her hilt, she yanked it out of its sheath and swung it through the air.
Metal clanged against metal and her sword fell from her hand. The jewel was draining her of power that could be replaced, but it was also sapping energy that came from her body.
Reaching to her connection, she brought forth a new wave of magic from the forest. She barely had time to register how great it was before she allowed her shield to appear and then burst forward.
Gandador flew back, but he caught himself in the air just before he hit the ground. With a smirk, he vanished, only to reappear inches from her.
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Now the cursed necklace was dangling an inch from her face, rendering her incapable of doing anything but staring wide eyed into the black stone, which seemed to be glowing even brighter. Her own crystals dimmed.
“I wouldn’t keep doing that,” Gandador noted. “You are only allowing me to take even more power.”
Come on, she thought desperately. Attack him!
She clenched her fist and allowed it to burst into flames. With a wounded cry of rage, she swiped it through the air.
Her aim was true this time—her enflamed fist made contact with the side of Gandador’s head. Not for long, however, for with a cry of pain and fury he seized her wrist and forced it away. Before she could move again, he grabbed her other wrist in the same hand and then twisted them back painfully.
“Argh!” he spat, using his free hand to tenderly poke at his burnt cheek. It was only pink—not nearly as horrible as the wound she had inflicted upon Sinsenta.
“Let me…go…” she panted.
“No,” he growled, shaking the jewel in front of her face. “It’s over! Stop fighting!”
“No!” she cried, but her vision was flickering. Her legs gave way and she fell to her knees. Gandador let go of her wrists, which fell like dead fruit to the forest floor.
“That’s better,” Gandador huffed breathlessly. He brushed his hand together.
“No,” she wheezed. Her mind spun, her connection pricked suddenly, and her crystals went dull. She did not dare to pull any more power, for Gandador was right: she was too weak to beat him without magic and she could not continue to bestow any more magic to the wretched jewel.
“Oh, yes,” he said triumphantly. “The time has come for change! Generations upon generations have you and your ancestors been in power, but now we must have new rule! I will build a kingdom over this blessed land and spread it far and wide!”
Her vision flickered again and she was reduced to all fours. No…
“Redawn will be the first to fall,” he told her. “I’ll make sure of it.”
“Oh, will you?”
To her shock—and utmost horror—Camella sprinted the length of the clearing and full-body tackled Gandador to the floor.
Kiethara saw Camella grab the necklace from Gandador’s outstretched hand as the two of them rolled on the grass.
“What the blazes?” Gandador gasped.
Camella scrambled off of him, holding the jewel high above her head as though it were diseased.
“What do I do with it?!” she cried, dancing as Gandador tried to snatch at her ankles. She barely managed to make herself audible over his screams of fury.
“Just run!” Kiethara shrieked in response. The jewel was now positioned away from her…now was her only chance…
She pulled forward a great wave of magic and a hidden reserve of strength. She pulled herself up off the ground at the same time Gandador did, though his attention was focused on Camella.
Fear—cold, hard fear—pumped through her veins. He was going to kill her! After she had just saved her life, Kiethara would not let that happen.
Her shield appeared, but not around Camella; instead, it housed herself and her father. Gandador was pushed back a step from the force of it and Kiethara had a sudden sense of forbidding. Obviously her magic had given her what she wanted: his attention was diverted back to her; however, as Gandador turned slowly to face her, she shuddered at the thought of his rage so close to her.
“Pray tell,” he growled through his teeth. She had never seen him so angry. “Who was that dear maiden?”
“Your downfall, I suppose,” Kiethara answered boldly.
“Child,” he hissed. “You tell me her name!”
“So you can hunt her down?” Kiethara laughed. “I don’t think so.”
She bent down and picked up her sword. This time nothing hindered her as she flashed it through the air, but Gandador was fast. He leaned back and it missed his chin by inches. In the next second he had his own sword drawn. He raised it up as if to strike, but before he could extend his arm fully the tip of his blade glanced off their gold-tinted confines.
Suddenly, Kiethara no longer dreaded being trapped in her safe house with her father. It meant that she controlled the environment, thus, she limited Gandador from some of his more outlandish maneuvers.
Something else caught her attention and raised her hopes—Gandador could not escape. By the look of concentration that played across his face and the deepening scowl that creased his face, she figured he could not play his vanishing act. He could not chase after Camella—who Kiethara prayed, was far gone by now. They were evenly footed, besides the fact that he would, eventually, run out of magic.
She would not.
A brilliant smile split her face.
Kiethara thrust her sword forward. Awkwardly, with barely an inch to spare, he knocked her stab away with his hilt.
“Give in,” she said. “You no longer have the magic necessary to fight me and you have no means to more. There is no escape.”
He made no reply save a roar, proceeding to throw himself on top of her. In a test of strength, he had her. His sword pushed her’s closer and closer to her neck.
In a test of power, however, she passed over him with ease. Her hands burst into flames. They were so close to Gandador that she expected him to retreat, but he didn’t. Instead, he thrust his head through the inferno and knocked his skull against hers with such a maddening force that everything went black for a moment. She cried out as she felt herself hit the ground. When her senses returned, she found her shield was gone and she was lying on the forest floor, quite alone.