The Dream Crafter(54)

They were back in the castle, Merc’s mother once again at the table of scrolls, the lines on her face a bit deeper. As the woman continued her work, Amana rounded on the monastic. “Why haven’t you told Merc any of this?” she demanded, fighting back tears on Merc’s behalf. The way Merc had deadened his voice when talking about family, it meant Merc had no idea of where he came from. He had lived his whole life not knowing about his parents or why his mother gave him up.

“Because it is not my place. That is for his mother to explain.”

“His mother? His mother is–”

The ground began to quake. Bits of ceiling began to rain down as scrolls fell to the floor in large numbers. The woman’s eyes widened and her mouth parted in shock and surprise.

The monastic smiled, grim and dark, the most emotion Amana had seen from the man since their meeting. “Behold, the Great Collision arrives.”

Before Amana could process his words, multiple men burst into the room, weapons drawn, splitting up to surround Merc’s mother. She stood, surprise vanishing, a transformation from scholar into a warrior taking place between one breath and the next. The woman grabbed a sword by her desk Amana had not noticed before, and leapt at the closest man.

The clash of swords was loud, a metallic chorus of death and skill, all the while the ground rocked uneven beneath them and outside, thunder cracked and the sky split itself into two, a blood red brightness Amana had never witnessed before even in the colorful skies of her home.

A feminine scream, and Amana turned from the sky to the woman on her knees, a sword thrust into her belly, other men surrounding her and bringing their own weapons down to strike her again.

Amana’s eyes closed against the vision, regret rocketing through her though there was nothing she could do to stop what had happened. The scream stopped, and Amana’s eyes opened to see one man grabbing the bundle of scrolls that had held her attention earlier. The surviving men left with the scrolls.

Merc’s mother was on the floor, grabbing at the wounds on her chest, her mouth a twisted grimace of pain, her eyes resigned to what was to come. She turned until she was on her side and began pulling herself toward the door even as the floor buckled under her, a trail of blood following in her wake.

“Talia!” The cry came from the almost Merc voice, and the woman’s eyes lifted from the floor.

“Matthias?” Bleeding from multiple wounds, the woman kept on her making her way to the door.

Merc’s father entered the doorway, and his face crumpled in despair for a brief second before he smoothed his features out, crouching above her, making to grab her but his hands pulsed, hesitated, as he searched for an area on her mutilated body that would be safe to touch.

She grabbed his hand, brought her own around his neck. “Hold me.”

With a strangled cry, he did, bringing her tight against his body. “We must get you to a healer.”

With a soft stroke, she settled her hand over his chest, leaning her head against him and closing her eyes. “I fulfilled my oath. I protected the Spellbook to my death. In these moments before my heart stops, I will be with you.”

The world itself shrieked around them, earthquakes pulling apart the stone room, and the red sky beat down through the broken windows and split walls to show itself in fearsome splendor.

With this background, into the room a woman came, composed and relaxed as if damnation itself wasn’t on display around them. Her white dress floated around her with ethereal lines, enriching the gold of her dark skin. She was shoeless, uncaring of the rubble she stepped into.

Talia’s eyes opened at her entrance. “Oracle.”

The Oracle crouched down before her, and leaned in to kiss her forehead. “My beloved Talia. I came to say goodbye.”

“What is happening?” Merc’s father asked this, undisturbed by the appearance of the Oracle.

The Oracle pulled away. “A Great Collision. A melding of worlds. You are not the only goodbye this day.”

“Our son?” asked Merc’s mother.

“He is with Shisen. He will survive.”

The monastic – Shisen – moved towards the door, and with great reluctance Amana followed. He was right though. She’d stayed too long. This intimacy between Merc’s parents, between them and the Oracle, was not meant for her eyes or ears.

“Us?” asked Merc’s father.

The Oracle hesitated only a moment. “You will remain together.”

There was a calm satisfaction in Merc’s mother’s voice when she replied, “That is all I ever wished for. Will our son be happy?”

At that question, Amana had to look over her shoulder as she walked away, her ears straining for the answer.