Alden Greenleaf's Arc

Chapter 5 of 5

The tattooed man stood between Alden and the dark path ahead. Sword and shield ready. She did not know if he had killed her mother's captors or joined them. Her hand drifted to her bow, then stopped. Behind her, Arglad's staff began to shake. The crystal at its tip flared blue. The old magician gripped it with both hands. "It's slipping," Arglad said. His voice stayed flat, but sweat ran down his face. "I can hold it. Probably not." The blue light spread up his arms. A hum filled the sealed chamber. Dust trickled from the low ceiling. Alden knew what a loose spell could do. She had watched one bury a cave under a mountain of stone. If it broke here, the roof would drop on all of them. "Old man, put it down," Elara said. She stepped close and gripped his wrist with her one hand. The witch's jaw tightened. "Anchor it. Now. Pick a point and hold." Arglad squeezed his eyes shut. The hum climbed higher. A crack split the stone above them. Alden had to know the tattooed man's part before the magic decided for them. She turned to the warrior. "Are you with them or against them? Answer." He did not lower his blade. "I hunt a man with no marks on his skin," he said. "He killed the witch's master. He took your mother." His voice was plain, hard. "I am not that man." The words did not settle Alden. She needed proof, not a promise. She looked at Arglad's shaking staff and made her choice. "Let it go," she told him. "Aim it up, not out. Break the ceiling clean or point it away." Arglad's eyes opened. He wrenched the staff toward the roof and screamed one old word. The light did not burst. It bent. It gathered into a shape above them, round and pale and huge. A single eye opened in the air, wider than a shield, veined and slow. The blue drained from Arglad's staff. He dropped to his knees, empty and gasping. "That," he said, "was not the ceiling." The floating eye turned to Alden. "I am Visidar Fate," it said. "I show three moments to come. You. The witch. The marked man." Its pupil widened. In its dark center, Alden saw a low cave and a figure bound against a wall. A woman. Her mother's braid. Her mother's hands. Alive. "She lives," Visidar said. "For now." The image held one breath, then closed. Alden's knees weakened, but she stayed standing. Her mother was alive. Somewhere past this man, past this dark, breathing. The spell that could have killed them all had answered her one question instead. Alden lifted her bow, but not at the warrior. She lowered it toward the path he guarded. "Then we go forward," she said. "All of us."