Island of Graves (39 page)

“Is this what it was like when you were preparing to fight the Quillitary?” Aaron asked.

That battle, and Meghan's death, were still very fresh, and Alex had often wondered if he'd gotten home sooner, would he have been able to prevent its terrible toll on Artimé? “No. It's nothing like that,” Alex said sharply. He didn't explain.

Aaron got the hint and didn't press it. He sat down on Alex's bed. He'd never really thought about how it would feel to be among those who were attacked. Closing his eyes, Aaron
wondered if Alex missed Meghan like he missed Secretary. If so, it must have left a wound in Alex's heart that ached terribly whenever he thought about her. And in a strange way it fired him up when he thought about destroying Gondoleery. She was killing people without warning, for no good reason, and causing pain to all the people who knew the dead. She had to be stopped.

Aaron lay down, but he couldn't sleep, so he looked at all of Alex's artwork that adorned the walls and ceiling, while Alex composed his assignments. With an hour to go before the planned meeting time in Quill, Alex called Clive.

Clive pressed his face out of the blackboard. He didn't say anything, but his pout made Alex wince.

“What's wrong, Clive?” Alex asked, but he knew the answer.

“You didn't tell me you were leaving.”

“I know—it was a terrible oversight. I'm sorry.”

“I didn't get a chance to tell you not to die. What if you had died?”

Alex tried to be patient, but he was running out of time. “You're right. I'm sorry. Now, though, I have a very important job for you.”

“You're just going to dismiss it?” Clive asked. “Don't you
care about the eternal guilt I'd feel if you
had
died?”

“Ah, but I didn't. So here's your chance to say it again since we'll be going into the most difficult battle we've ever faced. Are you ready to take down the instructions?” He shook the paper he'd written on for emphasis.

“Maybe I don't want to say it anymore,” Clive said.

Aaron watched from the bed, fascinated.

Alex felt the heat rising to his face. “Clive,” he said in a dead serious voice, “you have one second to accept this job or you're fired and Stuart is taking your place.”

“Okay!” Clive said. “I was just joking around, sheesh. Whatcha got for me?”

Alex gave him the orders through clenched teeth. Clive became much more subdued when he heard what the assignment was. When Alex finished, Clive repeated it back to him, and then Alex gave the final okay.

He turned away from Clive and loaded components from the supply in his dresser into his vest, then slipped a robe on over his clothes.

Soon Alex had his robe pockets packed full of spells too.
He pulled a fresh component vest from his closet for Aaron, completely empty, and Aaron put the dagger belt back on. The twins were easily distinguishable for the sake of any Artiméans who might not yet trust Aaron.

“Are you ready?” Alex asked his brother.

“I am,” said Aaron, and the two exchanged a look of trust for the first time in many years. He held out his hand to Alex, and Alex shook it.

From behind them, Clive cleared his voice. “Don't die,” he said meekly.

Alex looked at the blackboard. “I might, just to spite you,” he said. “Now shove off.” He turned away and motioned to Aaron. “Let's go. It's time to assemble on the lawn.”

I
t was dark as pitch. Alex and Aaron stood outside the mansion waiting for everyone to assemble. Sky and Kaylee arrived first, followed by Lani and Samheed. The latter two eyed Aaron steadily, trying to read his face in the light of Alex's highlighter.

Aaron had attempted to prepare himself for this moment, but it came very quickly. He dropped his gaze to avoid the stares, but kept his chin up and his jaw set. They had asked him here. There was nothing about his presence that he needed to apologize for. That didn't stop him from sweating, though.

He recited Ishibashi's lessons in his head.
Be your own
strong. To gain respect, one must first offer it.
Time would prove to them what Aaron's inner applecorn tasted like. He didn't need to feel shame or fear among these people. His presence was his apology.

Simber and Florence joined the front ranks. They'd walk with Alex and the others until the larger group turned off to go to the Commons of Quill, and then they'd keep watch for Gondoleery on the road from the palace. If she showed her face, Simber and Florence wouldn't hesitate to take her down.

Florence pulled Kaylee aside and spoke to her in a low voice about weapons, listing the options for the girl. Kaylee listened and chose, and Florence pulled a fencing sword from her quiver and handed it to the girl. “This is from Mr. Appleblossom's prop closet. It's real, and it's deadly. Choose wisely when you wish to use it. Did Sky explain what we're up against?”

“Yes,” Kaylee said. “I understand, and I'm ready. I took two years of fencing at the club.”

Florence looked puzzled, but there was no time to ask questions. Kaylee expertly tossed the sword by the hilt from one hand to the other, then slid the blade into her belt.

Simber seemed more anxious and showed more concern
than usual. He paced on the lawn as the people of Artimé who chose to fight assembled.

Alex watched the cat, troubled. “What is it?” he whispered when he passed.

Simber stopped by Alex's side and looked at the mage. “Whateverrr happens, you must keep going,” he said. “I believe in you. You arrre an excellent rrruler. You have what it takes to lead Arrrtimé to victorrry and peace. And you have brrrought this worrrld back frrrom nothing on yourrr own beforrre. If you have to do it again, have no fearrr. You will succeed.”

Alex's eyes grew wide, and his heart nearly stopped. “What are you saying?” he asked. “Artimé won't disappear. If it does, it's because I've been killed, and Claire and Lani and Sky all know the spell to bring it back. There's even an extra robe in the gray shack—I put it there some time ago. . . . It's important for the spell, you see. . . .” He faltered. It dawned on him that Simber wasn't talking about Artimé disappearing. He was talking about Alex having to inspire his people without his leaders there to advise him. He was talking about just in case.
Just in case every one of us is destroyed or killed.

“It won't happen,” Alex declared. “She can't destroy you.”

Simber only looked at him. “Neverrr forrrget. No one is invincible.” He sampled the air. “Send the seek spell the second you sense trrrouble.”

“I will,” said Alex. Simber was making him really nervous.

“And you, Aaron,” Simber said, loud enough for many of the Artiméans to hear, “will be prrrotected as long as yourrr allegiance to Arrrtimé rrremains clearrr. We thank you forrr helping us.”

Aaron looked up at the beast and nodded. “Thank you,” he whispered.

Alex held up his highlighter, and Florence raised hers as well to get the attention of everyone on the lawn.

“Friends!” Alex shouted. “Thank you for your sacrifice for Artimé. Do you all have your water flasks and dust guards?”

The people nodded, some of them lifting stretchy tubular cloths in the air, which they'd wear over their faces to protect them from the dust squalls.

“Good,” said Alex. “We'll arrive at the amphitheater and provide light and support for the Necessaries, so they will see they are not alone. Aaron will speak to them, asking them to join us, and if he is successful, we'll march to the palace and surround it. We'll
give the guards and drivers a choice to join us or be frozen, and we'll swarm the entrances. You've all seen the diagram of the palace that Gunnar Haluki sketched for us, so you won't be entering blindly.

“Most important of all,” Alex continued, “we'll provide the Necessaries with weapons, but they cannot compete against Gondoleery's magic. So we must protect them at all costs.”

As his solemn words rang out over the silent crowd, one by one the Artiméans lifted their fists to their chests and tapped them to declare their solidarity with their leader. “We are with you, Alex!” they called out, until the air was filled.

Aaron swallowed hard as he watched his brother command this dedicated group of people. He felt a deep longing for what Alex had—so much respect and so much support. Aaron had almost felt that once, with the Restorers, but it hadn't lasted. Now he could see why Artimé remained strong and won battle after battle. It was their hearts that kept them in it. Their passion.

Aaron felt his anxiety increasing. How was he supposed to convince the Necessaries to embody that same passion when they were lifeless inside? He was starting from a much more difficult place. And if he failed to convince them, would Simber think he hadn't tried
hard enough, and that his allegiance wasn't clear? Would he have to worry about Simber killing him too?

Before he could ponder further, everyone began moving, and Aaron was pushed along with the crowd, following Alex. As they passed through the magical barrier into the ugly, dust-stormy world of Quill, and the Artiméans raised their dust masks to cover their noses and mouths, Aaron glanced back toward the jungle and felt a sudden desire to be there with a growling rock and a screaming panther, where he felt comfortable. If he stole away, would the Artiméans kill him? The temptation was real, but fleeting. He marched onward.

The giant crowd moved quietly down the road with their boxes of fruit and nuts and weapons in tow. Carina and a few others toted healers' kits as well. Everyone's clothing gathered dust from the storm as they moved. No one spoke. No one tried to override Alex's plan. And Alex was confident, walking between Florence and Simber with his head high.

Aaron took it all in. He found Sky and Kaylee and fell in step with them. He felt most comfortable with them—the two who hadn't known him before.

Sky gave him an encouraging smile. “Just think,” she said, “if nobody shows up, you won't have to do a speech at all.”

Aaron didn't smile. For a moment he selfishly hoped that it would happen. But then he thought about Gondoleery, and he knew that it would be the worst possible result.

As planned, when they reached the path to the amphitheater, Florence and Simber stepped aside. Alex turned down the path and continued leading the group. He glanced over his shoulder, squinting at the two statues, trying to get one last glimpse of their faces before they were swallowed by darkness and dust. Alex paused to salute them as he led the people. Florence saluted back, and Simber lifted his head like a king.

Soon Alex and his people arrived in the very center of Quill. Sean and Claire led the Artiméans to spread themselves around the giant half circle in an organized manner, while Aaron and Alex stepped up on the platform.

Aaron was lost, forced into this spotlight again. He walked slowly to the old, familiar podium and stood behind it. He placed his hands on the rotting wood and closed his eyes, remembering the times he'd stood here before. It was painful to stand here now. Tears sprang to his eyes for no apparent reason . . .
and then because there was one. He was here to play a role—the role of the old Aaron Stowe. To be a phony. A fake. To lie to the people who had trusted him enough to risk their lives and come here.

There had been a time when he wouldn't have thought twice about it. But now . . .

“I don't know if I can do this,” he muttered.

At his side, Alex either didn't hear or chose not to react. Aaron wasn't sure. The former high priest dug his elbows into the podium and held his head in his hands as the world began to spin. Jumbled thoughts and confusing phrases twisted together in his mind as the mantras of Quill collided with the proverbial phrases of Ishibashi.

“I think I'm going to be sick,” Aaron whispered.

Alex put a hand on his brother's back. “No, you're not,” he said. “Because look over there. Your people are coming.”