From Light to Dark (24 page)

Looking into her eyes was the most painful thing Eref had done in his entire life. They begged him not to go. Her aching sadness came through so clearly, he felt it himself. It took everything in him to tell her no.

“We’re the lucky ones, Caer. How many people do you know who’ll get to be together forever?”

She smiled weakly, more tears spilling out of her eyes.

Eref hugged her again and let her cry into him. “You’re going to be fine,” he said.

“It’s not enough,” she said, wrapping her arms around him in another tight grip. “I won’t be able to see you or hear you or touch you.”

“Sure you will,” he said, his own heart feeling as heavy as the Moonstone in his pocket. “I’ll be everything you see and hear and touch. I’ll always be there.”

“I want to be part of that with you,” she cried.

Eref kissed her forehead. She looked up, and he kissed her cheeks and nose.

“Be strong for me,” he said.

She blinked at him, and finally he saw complete trust in her sad eyes.

He kissed her lips. Tears from her face rolled down his jaw, and for a moment, it seemed they really were the same person. A tiny light glowed briefly between them, and it felt like Heaven.

The kiss ended, and they held each other again, taking in everything. The shapes of their bodies, the smell of their skin. He wouldn’t forget this, even after he had died.

She let go slowly and stood next to him. But after that embrace, he could still feel her, as if part of her soul had entered his. Nothing could separate them.

Vul shifted her feet nearby. “We ready to go?”

Eref nodded.

With a deep breath, he patted his pocket again and grabbed the door’s golden handle.

“Let’s do it,” he said.

The Governors

The door swooshed open, revealing a small, circular room.

“No way,” Vul said. “Disgusting.”

In the walls were five huge cases of blue water.

Each case contained the floating body of an ancient Safe Person.

Eref turned around, examining them all with a nauseating chill. Five life-sized aquariums surrounded them.

A small podium stood in the center of the room, with each Safe Person facing it, bobbing slowly, eyes closed.

“What are these people?” Caer touched Eref’s arm, and he held her hand.

For a moment, he wasn’t sure. But the longer he stared at their wrinkled, wet faces hanging lifelessly in the water, the more he knew he recognized them.

“They’re the people from the carving. On the first door,” he said. “These are the Governors.”

“What?” Vul sounded amazed. “No way. These people are dead.”

But even as she spoke, the bodies began to prove her wrong.

One by one, the ancient people opened their eyes. Still bobbing in their cases, they stared straight at Eref.

The Moonstone tugged at his pocket; it seemed something magnetic was drawing it out. This was it.

“Eref,” Caer said.

He reached into his pocket and pulled the Moonstone free. It glowed the brightest neon blue he’d ever seen.

One of the Governors—the thin old woman—lifted a wasted arm in her tank and pointed a bony finger at him. Short gray hair, the thickness of wires, swam slowly around her sunken face and body.

He let go of Caer and closed both hands over the glowing stone. Instantly, a great feeling of calm washed through him.

Caer and Vul stood nearby, their mouths open in fear and surprise.

He smiled back. “It doesn’t hurt. I’ll be fine. How long do we have?”

“About nineteen minutes, I think,” Vul said.

“Could you keep counting the time for me?”

Vul nodded, though she looked very uneasy. All around them, the other Governors lifted their arms and pointed their bony fingers.

“Eref,” Caer murmured again.

“It’s going to be fine,” he said with a smile. Holding this stone reminded him of protecting Caer. Holding her, kissing her. It was a sensation of perfect health and happiness. He was saving the world. He was saving Caer.

Then he began to feel very light, as if his body weighed no more than the air. He looked at his hand; it was becoming transparent. He could see the Moonstone right through his own skin.

A tapping sound came from one of the aquariums.

“They’re trying to break through!” Vul called.

The thin old woman rapped steadily on her case, her fierce gaze never leaving Eref. Soon, the other Governors started rapping on their tanks as well.

“What do we do?” Caer spun around, looking at each carcass-like Governor.

Eref had to hang on just a little more. “How much longer, Vul?”

“Fourteen minutes, I think!”

The glass cracked on the thin woman’s case.

Caer wrung her hands. “What if she gets out?”

“Just hold them off for another few minutes! I can do it!” His whole arm had grown transparent now.

Water began to seep out of the woman’s case. It wasn’t a thin liquid like Eref had imagined. This was some kind of bluish gel, and it slid through the cracks like glue oozing from a bottle.

He held the Moonstone tighter, and the preserved woman started to claw at the crack in the glass, her long fingernails clipping the sliver over and over.

Across the room, one of the men had also cracked his glass and begun clawing.

“Eref,” Caer said in a shaking voice. “They’re going to get out.”

“Twelve minutes,” Vul said.

Just then, a hidden door to their left burst open. Three Dark World soldiers entered the room holding flamethrowers.

“Hands up!” they shouted. “Right now!”

Caer and Vul exchanged terrified glances and raised their arms.

Eref found that the top left side of his torso was disappearing. When he held up his hands, fists clenched around the stone, the Moonstone ring appeared to hang in midair above his head. It was difficult to feel fear with the incredible sensation of power and freedom coursing through him, but he knew that the arrival of the soldiers was very bad.

He looked at Vul, who mouthed “Eleven minutes” before turning back to face the soldiers.

What could they do? It seemed that the best decision was for Caer and Vul to be arrested, and for him somehow to dodge the soldiers for another ten and a half minutes. But could he do it?

The Governors continued to claw at their glass cases, seemingly unaware of the soldiers’ presence. Each one of them looked hungrily toward Eref’s invisible hands.

“Come with us,” one of the soldiers said, brandishing his flamethrower in a very clear warning.

Vul made a rude gesture with her hands above her head. “Why don’t you shove that thing up your—”

“Ooof!”

One of the soldiers collapsed, and the other two turned in surprise.

There stood the Exile, holding the flamethrower of the soldier he’d just knocked unconscious. “Back up,” he instructed the two men. “Now. Or I’ll light this whole room ablaze.”

The soldiers looked perplexed, but they didn’t obey. One of them said, “How’d you escape, old man? I thought the soldiers captured you outside, at least half an hour ago.”

“Eref,” the Exile said, fixing his flamethrower on the two men. “How much longer do you need?”

“We’re at about eight minutes,” Vul said.

Eref’s entire left side had gone clear, and despite the chaos around them, he felt amazing. “I can do it, Exile. Can you hold them back?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “I had to come in through the front to create a distraction. You were seen sneaking in.”

“Oh, no,” Caer said.

“It’s not your fault,” the Exile said. “But I had to do something to keep them from tracking you down. It was difficult fighting them off to get here, though. I don’t know how much longer I can—”

“Seven minutes,” Vul said.

One of the soldiers jumped suddenly and cracked the Exile over the head with the back of his gun. The old man crumpled to the floor and didn’t move.

“Watch it,” said the other man. “The Governors want him alive.”

“I had to disarm him.”

“Is he breathing?”

“I dunno,” said the soldier. “Kick him or something.”

“We’ll deal with that later. You three. Come with us.”

“Sure,” Vul said. “In about six minutes.”

The soldier who had attacked the Exile took a step closer and brandished his gun at her again. “You’ll come when we tell you to, or we’ll light your head on fire.”

“Ooooh,” Vul said in her most sarcastic voice. “Scared to fight me like a man?”

“Vul, hush,” Caer said. Every second her wide, anxious eyes moved to something else. Eref. Vul. The Exile. The Governors. The soldiers.

Suddenly, Eref noticed that the Exile wasn’t unconscious. He lay where he’d fallen, but his eyes were open, and he watched the scene unfold.

The old lady had managed to poke a fingernail through her aquarium and now tried to free the rest of her hand.

The soldier ignored Vul and turned to his comrade. “What’s wrong with the Governors?”

Both men looked around at all the cases filled with expressionless, wrinkled people robotically clawing their way free.

“No clue,” the other one said, visibly disturbed by what he saw. “Probably has to do with these four.”

“I say we kill them,” the soldier said. “Right here in front of the Governors. We’ll go down in history.”

“Four minutes,” Vul whispered.

The soldier nodded at his comrade. He seemed to want to act quickly. Either Vul’s countdown or the strange Governors or both had put him on edge. “Kill them.”

They threw on flame-resistant masks and aimed.

Both men pulled the triggers; just at that moment, the Exile leapt forward and grabbed Vul, who was closest to him. They hit the floor in a haze of smoke and fire.

Caer screamed and dashed to the other end of the room. She crouched low with her hands over her face.

Eref ran toward Caer, gripping the Moonstone tightly in his hand. But before he reached her, another blast came at him. He backed up and dropped to the ground, rolling underneath the stream of fire to get to Caer.

“Eref!” she cried. “Is Vul safe? I can’t see anything!”

The room had filled with smoke, and some parts of the wall crawled with fiery embers.

“I don’t know,” he called out. “Vul! Can you hear me?”

“My face!” Vul shouted back. “They’ve burned my face!”

“I’m with her!” the Exile shouted. “We have to get out of here! Caer, come to us!”

Another flaming shot came directly at Caer this time, and Eref tugged her out of the way. She bumped her head against the wall and collapsed against his body. In the chaos, he forgot his purpose for a split second and thought only of keeping Caer alive.

They rolled under the fire and hid in the farthest part of the room, where the least smoke had traveled.

Eref held Caer close to him. Her head lolled slightly to the side, and he gripped her tightly with both hands. “Caer, stay with me.” He shook her gently. “Caer, talk to me. Are you all right?”

“I think so,” she said, opening her eyes. Then her jaw dropped in horror. “Eref. Oh, no.”

All at once, the overwhelming calm and joy in his body faded. He looked at his body and saw it becoming solid once again.

“No,” he said.

But it was true. Both of his hands held Caer. And nothing else.

“Look at this!” one of the soldiers called out from behind a mask that dulled his voice. “I’ve found the Moonstone ring!”

Waiting to Die

They’d taken his glasses. Everything was black again, and he was alone. Though he couldn’t see, Eref could imagine what his holding cell was like.

He’d seen one before. In Light World.

That was the place where people waited to be stoned to death.

This was the place where people waited to burn.

He fell to his knees and clutched the muddy ground beneath him. Leaves and twigs stuck to his hands, and he leaned forward into the mud. What did it matter if his face was covered in grime? His soul couldn’t feel any dirtier.

Lying on the ground, he cried out and beat his fists into the mud.

They’d taken her. He hadn’t protected her.

In the chaos, all he had seen was Caer’s face when the soldiers had yanked her arm and torn her away. She’d called out to him, “Let me go! Eref! Help!”

But he’d had a soldier on him, too, and flamethrowers were aimed at both their heads.

So Eref had just watched, his heart breaking, while the soldiers had dragged Caer away.

What was more, the Moonstone was back in the Governors’ office. At least they couldn’t use it for the life transfer, he told himself. They needed the Exile to do that, but the Exile and Vul had gotten away through another door.

But the Exile couldn’t have much time left in him, and Vul had been injured by the flames.

All their efforts had been in vain because Eref hadn’t held on.

He clawed the ground and willed himself to disappear. If he could have dug his own grave right there, he would have.

But the murky ground was hard-packed beneath the slime, and he had no chance of tunneling out or even burying himself.

Dark World and Light World had one clear thing in common: they were both determined to watch him die.

Surrounded by at least ten soldiers, he’d been transferred from a dungeon in the Shade several miles through the jungle to a smaller cell that smelled like sulfur. It must have been a hidden prison beneath the Pyre.

Nearby, several guards whispered to each other.

Thankfully, he couldn’t have much time left before the execution. The act of living put him through too much misery to endure.

Then he remembered—the execution. If Dark World’s killings were carried out the same way as Light World’s, then an executioner would light the fire.

That executioner would wear the Moonstone on a chain around his neck.

Barely noticeable through his pain, a tiny hint of hope emerged. If he could get the executioner to come close…if he could get the ring in his hands…. it would be in danger in the fire…

But how long could he actually hold it while burning?

Even with the healing magic, Eref couldn’t possibly survive twenty minutes with his whole body on fire.