~Beginning on page 776, Chapter/Scene 69, 6th indentation
*Note: the story is partly made up of Miss Libba Bray's words, so as to keep the basics the same.
Disclaimer: I do not own any part of this book (The Sweet Far Thing), the characters, or what of Miss Libba Bray's words I had to use.~
Chapter One
I'm back where I was on the frozen ground of the Winterlands.
"Kartik," my voice is raw and weak, but frantic nonetheless. I can barely whisper, and yet I know I must force myself to say what comes next. "I love you."
His eyes are wide with alarm, and then as my words sink in, I fear he might cry. "Oh, Gemma. I love you, too." His voice is not much louder than my own, and I know it's because he is trying to hold back tears. I lose myself for a moment and begin to shift a bit, as if I meant to move towards him. "Gemma! You mustn't move. If your blood falls on the ground of the Winterlands --"
"I know." With a great effort, I plunge the dagger in to it's hilt and fall back. Keeping my hand to the wound in my side, and trying not to notice the blood trickling between my fingers, I stare at the swaying tree along with the whole of Winterlands creatures, who shriek to see its mortal wound. With an enormous crack, the tree splits open and the magic inside bleeds out.
"Step away!" Gorgon calls, but not soon enough.
Every bit of the tree's power flows into Kartik. His body receives the magic like one hundred blows. He falls to the ground, and I fear it has killed him.
"Kartik!" I scream.
He staggers slowly to his feet, but he is no longer Kartik. He is something else entirely, a being etched in shadow and light, his eyes shifting from brown to a terrifying blue-white. He is so bright it hurts my eyes to look. All of the tree's power -- the Winterlands magic -- now lives inside him, and I do not know what this means.
I reach out to him, and soon realize my mistake. But it is already too late, and a single drop of blood has fallen into the frozen soil.
"It begins again!" a tracker cries to the shouts of the others.
The injured tree's roots come alive, twisting themselves round my ankles and climbing up my shins. I scream and try to move away, but I am being devoured.
"We didn't kill it," I gasp. "Why?"
"It cannot be killed," Amar thunders. "It can only be changed."
Fowlson hacks at the roots and Felicity and Ann try to pull them from my legs, but they are no match for the strong new shoots.
"I told you that you would bring her to us, Brother. That you would be the death of her," Amar says sadly.
Kartik glows with power. "You told me to follow my heart," he says to Amar, and some shred of Amar, whatever remains of him, hears it.
"So I did, Brother. Will you give me peace?"
"I will."
As swiftly as a tiger, Kartik grabs Amar's sword. Amar raises his arms, and Kartik pushes it through. Amar gives a great howl. The light is piercing and then he is no more. Kartik puts a hand to my side. The magic flares to life, and we are both bright with light, dark with shadow. His strength flows into me till the Winterlands magic mixes with the Temple magic. And for one brief moment, we are a perfect union. I can feel him inside me, me inside him. I can hear his thoughts; I know what's in his heart, what he means to do.
"No," I say. I try to break away but he holds fast to me.
"Yes, I can think of no other way."
"I won't let you!"
Kartik pulls me closer. "The debt must be paid."
Behind me, I hear Fowlson mutter. "Sahirah."
"No, Fowlson --" Kartik begins, but Fowlson cuts him off.
"Listen 'ere, I've 'ad my chance at life. The two 'o you, you ain't even got started yet." I notice now that Fowlson has let a single tear slip down his face, and it breaks my heart once again to remember what we left in the Borderlands.
"Fowlson --" Kartik tries once again, and it is I who cuts him off this time, but I am speaking to Fowlson.
"Is this what Sahirah would want?" I ask, knowing that whether she would want it or not means nothing, because I can see in the agonized look he gives me that his mind is made up. Before Kartik can say anything more against the matter, Fowlson is speaking at the tree.
"Take me," is all he says, in the clearest accent I have ever heard fall from that mouth. In but a second I can feel the vines and roots of the tree retreating off of my body, snaking their way towards Fowlson. Kartik takes a step forward, but Fowlson puts a hand up and shouts over the sudden roar.
"No, Brother Kartik. This is where I belong." I remember my feet then, feeling as if I have just learned to walk, and I take a step forward. I look up into Fowlson's eyes and lay a hand to his cheek, softly, motherly.
"Thank you," I say. For the first time I've seen, he wears a genuine smile. Then his body goes rigid with pain, his back arching.
"Stay back!" Gorgon shouts, her eyes cool.
"Blimey," Bessie says in awe.
The magic takes hold of Fowlson, and with one last, loud crack, he is gone.
The trackers point. "The magic! Have you forgotten? They still hold the magic! We might have it yet!"
Kartik and I join hands and together we push the Winterlands creatures away with the force of our magic. "This is what you would fight for? Kill for? What you would try to hoard or protect? No more," I say, and squeeze Kartik's hand lightly. "The magic was meant to be shared. None of you will hold it! I will give the magic back to the land!"
Together, Karitk and I kneel before the broken earth, laying our hands to the frozen soil. "I give this magic back to the realms and the Winterlands, too, that it may be shared equally among the tribes!"
The trackers shriek and howl as if in pain. The souls they have captured push through us on their way to wherever it is we go from here. I feel their passage. It is rather like the swoop of a carnival ride. And when they have gone, there is no one to lead the others, the dead. They stare in wonder, no longer sure what has happened or what will be.
Already, the ice that forms the ground is melting in small patches, and a sense of beginning, of birth, is upon us. But there is still something left to be done.
I look around at my friends, at Gorgon, at Bessie, then finally up at Kartik. I have an overwhelming sense of what would have been lost if he had gone through with what he meant to, and I fear my knees will give out. But he is still here, and I force myself to stand up straight and speak clearly.
"What of the tree now? I fear we may still need to take it down," I say.
"Yes, if Mrs. Spence could become what she did, then anything may happen to Fowlson, regardless of his, or our, intentions." Kartik says from beside me. The others nod in agreement and we set to work.
With the Winterlands creatures watching us from a distance, the few of us, and what is left of the Hajin and centaurs, join hands and form a circle around the tree, Kartik and I at opposite ends from each other in an attempt to balance our magic. Each and every one of us focuses our will at lifting the tree and all its roots and vines from out of the earth. With a shattering sound and light, one by one the tree's roots emerge from the cracking soil, the vines slither up like snakes towards the sky. The sight is astonishing, unlike anything I have ever seen. And then the very tree itself begins rising, and a great sound as though God himself were breaking through the sky fills my ears. The tree keeps rising, lifting several yards off the ground, the roots and vines dancing around it, and suddenly it bursts into purple flames.
"Oh," I gasp, along with several of the others. The heat rolling off of the great burning thing is almost too much to handle, but I only grip each of the beings beside me that much tighter. The giant, floating tree is growing smaller and smaller with every second it stay aflame, and soon it is nothing, the flames licking themselves into empty air the same way they came. And then it is raining ashes.
I let go of whom I now notice is Asha on my left, and then of the centaur at my right, and turn to stare out at the Winterlands creatures. The look of awe has not left their faces, and I have a feeling it will remain there for some time. They move their attention toward the sky and hold out their hands, catching the ashes as if they were snowflakes. I turn back and spy Kartik. I catch his gaze, and cautiously he walks over to me.
"I am sorry," I say, not entirely knowing what I am apologizing for, but I feel that I need to.
"Gemma, you have nothing to be sorry for." He raises a hand to my cheek, gently stroking the freshly warm skin. I lean forward and rest my head on his shoulder, closing my eyes. He wraps his arms around me, and finally I feel that barrier in me break. Tears roll down my face, soaking what is left of his shirt. I find myself hoping he won't mind, then laugh at the ridiculous thought. He only continues rubbing his hand in small circles along my back.
When I feel that I am completely drained of all tears, I pull away slightly to look around me and gasp at the sight.
"Oh, it's beautiful," I say. And it is. Every place an ash has fallen, a flower has sprung up. I notice Ann and Felicity are laying in the fresh field, and suddenly my knees go weak. Kartik catches me, but does not pull me back up to stand. Instead, we lie down beside eachother, and I find I am incredibly tired. I breathe in the scent of spring flowers and sigh, letting my mind finally wander into that temporary peace called sleep.
~Thank you to all who read this, and thank you if you decide to review. :)
*Paisley* ~