Chapter 55

Rejections Opal awoke late in the afternoon. She had not meant to sleep the entire day, however using her magic to fly about Illyia the day before had left her exhausted and sore all over. As she dressed, she returned to a thought that had bothered her throughout the night. Why have my magical energies waxed and waned so much these past few days? Opal feared it was tied to the loss of her baby.

You’re better than this, better than some common student scared of their own powers. But Opal was scared. The unknowing manifestation of a transportation spell was a dangerous and worrisome thing.

She had brought Karn, and a group of soldiers, to her without meaning to. She could have easily done the same with bandits or the enemy. The thought chilled her blood.

To make matters worse, when she returned to Kel Tora last night, her portal spell had deposited her in the center of town instead of inside the room in the castle she had aimed for. She had startled a pair of drunkards so badly one pissed himself.

With a hard swallow, she considered that she could’ve transported herself into any number of spots that would have been more than embarrassing; they would have been fatal.

Once composed, Opal exited her room at the inn and walked down the stairs to the ground floor to reimburse the owner for the night. Hunger twisted her stomach in knots. When, she wondered, was the last time I sat for a meal?

“Innkeeper, can you add in the cost of a meal to what I owe you for the room? I’m starving.”

“Sure thing, my lovely,” the old stout innkeeper agreed, then shuffled off toward the kitchen.

Opal took a quick look around the inn. Except for herself, the innkeeper, and two Kel Tora guards that were posted there, the place was deserted. Intrigued, Opal bent over the bar and yelled into the adjoining kitchen. “Where is everyone?”

“Big celebration at the castle. Even us non-soldier types were invited to rally outside on the east grounds,” the innkeeper responded.

Sadness filled Opal’s chest. Had things gone as she planned, she would have been at the pinnacle of that festivity, hand in hand with Karn. Instead, events had kept her hidden, an outcast again. “I should be there,” Opal muttered as she clenched her fist.

“The rally, my dear?” The innkeeper had come back with a bowl of hot stew. “There’ll be plenty of time after your meal, young lady.”

“No, I should be at the celebration inside,” Opal corrected him.

“Oh?” His voice rose with interest.

“This was my chance to at long last get the respect and notice I deserved. I was to become famous,” Opal said.

“Famous, you say?” The innkeeper placed a chunk of bread beside the bowl.

Opal snatched and dunked it angrily into the stew. “Yes.”

He looked her in the eye. “So, tell me, what happened? Why are you here instead of there?”

Opal shoveled two huge, overfull spoonfuls of stew into her mouth. The meal was satisfying; it felt as if she had not eaten in a week. The food warmed her body, and it brought a hint of a smile to her face. “This is quite good,” she said with sincerity.

“My stew is well-known throughout the lands of Kel Tora,” the innkeeper boasted.

Opal sighed.

“Sometimes it’s the little things,” she said to the innkeeper before she placed another big spoonful of food into her mouth. She chewed and swallowed. “In the past, I failed to recognize the little things. My sights were so fixed on the grand scale, the outcome of months of work, that I failed to recognize the little parts that make up the whole.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” the innkeeper said.

“No, it’s I who should be sorry. It was my fault. I was so blinded by my desires that I neglected to see that I was being used. Even now… even now, I try to justify it,” Opal laughed ruefully.

The old innkeeper scratched his dry face. “Justify what?”

Opal paused a moment as she considered the words she was about to speak. There’s no reason not to tell this man. She decided that to unburden herself might alleviate some of the pain she felt. “Justify the great evil I am responsible for.”

Opal scooped a large piece of meat from the stew, as the innkeeper shot a look over her shoulder to the two Kel Tora guards. She knew the guards had heard every word, but she had said nothing to incriminate herself. She was sure that as city guards they had heard their share of boasts before; of course, this was different.

Freed of a small measure of shame, Opal continued, “I barely remember the day when I could count how many people I had killed on one hand. Now… now both my hands and feet are not enough. I’ve lost count.”

“What are you saying?”

“I wager that when you first saw me, you painted me as just another simple, harmless woman sitting at your bar.”

“Simple, no. A woman as comely as you should not be described as simple.”

“Another pretty face in the crowd,” Opal guessed. “My beauty has always been my advantage and my curse.”

“You must excuse my curiosity, but you said you’ve killed many people.” The innkeeper began to stammer. “H-how could you have k-killed…”

Opal raised her eyes from her meal. With measured pace, she positioned her spoon to the right of her bowl. She sat up, propped her right elbow on the bar and pointed her index and middle fingers toward the wooden ceiling.

“This is how,” Opal sighed as her hand erupted in a yellow glow that resembled a bright burning torch. “You see, I’m a mage. A-a wicked one.”

Before Opal could lower her arm, one of the guards grabbed her shoulder. The man’s hand surprised her and triggered the spell she cast.

The yellow glow burst forth from her hand and shot straight through the ceiling followed by the roof of the inn.

“By the great gods!” the innkeeper screeched over the crack of wood.

First, debris from the damaged ceiling showered upon the bar and floor; then the ceiling cracked, and a much larger hole opened. The roof began to cave in, and its weight was too much for the second floor to handle.

“Cease your attack or we’ll be forced to stop you!” the guard who grabbed Opal’s shoulder yelled over the crash of the falling debris.

“It was an accident!”

The inn itself shrieked as its support beams cracked. Opal wasn’t sure how she knew it, but she was sure it wouldn’t be long before the entire place collapsed.

Regardless of her recent concerns about transporting herself, Opal closed her eyes and blinked out of the inn, to the room inside the castle she had stayed in. A gust of displaced air made her stumble, and before she could be sure she was where she wanted to be, she heard someone cough.

“Who’s there?” Opal cried out, disoriented.

“Do you always draw attention to yourself like that?” a voice asked dryly.

“Show yourself.”

“Oh, I imagine you had a proper reason to destroy that inn,” the voice said—more familiar with each word.

Opal’s eyes focused on the mage she called Limper, seated comfortably upon her bed in Kel Tora’s guest room. He wore a fancy new white woolen robe with red sigils, like the ones she had seen at the tower. Yet that was not the only new thing. The old mage looked younger—as if ten summers had been shed off his body like dead skin. As Opal stepped closer, she could feel a surge of magical energy around him.

“Malek didn’t tell me you were back in the fold,” Opal confessed. “He didn’t tell me you were even alive.”

“Malek? No, I’m afraid you are confused. I didn’t rejoin the dark mages… not as you have.”

“Do not assume you know me!” When Opal raged, her eyes flashed blue and green. “I just want to get Karn back!”

“That’s why I came to speak with you.”

“What can you promise me that Malek has not already?” Opal placed her hands firmly on her hips.

“His soul.”

His words struck her like a punch in the gut and took as long to recover from. “Do you threaten me or offer me a solution?”

“The battle is here and there is no assurance your dear Karn will survive it, but there is a way to protect his soul.”

Opal stepped forward. “Tell me—how?”

“No. First, you must promise me that from this day forward you will travel the path of a benevolent mage.”

Opal shook her head. “I fear I’m too corrupt for that.”

The old mage stood and straightened his robes. Gripped in his left hand, by its frayed drawstring, was a small leather pouch. It swayed back and forth as he approached her. “There’s still salvation for you. The days of pure and dark mages will die with my generation. You will be the first of a new kind, one evenly balanced between good and evil.”

Opal did not care about his words; his solution was all that mattered to her. “Tell me what to do.”

“Take this.” The mage pulled an old scroll wrapped in red and white ribbon from the pouch. “It’s a gift. I brought it from Spire Anguish.”

Opal took the gift without question.

“Go ahead, examine it.” He smiled.

Opal tore off the ribbon and unraveled the scroll as fast as she could. Once opened, the parchment emitted a tiny blue flash, but she was too engrossed in its contents to question it. As she read the scroll’s words, she realized just how important they were.

“A body can be healed, but a soul cannot once death occurs. Opal, you must understand that there’s a strong possibility that the Rook will die in combat,” he said.

“I will not allow it.”

“Have you not thought of the variables? This is war. The Rook was designed to fight his way right to Naraboo at any cost. How many soldiers do you think it will take to overcome him?”

“I just assumed—” Opal’s shoulders slumped as the old mage interrupted her.

“You thought they would meet one on one in some legendary swordfight?”

Opal sighed. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because only you have the cache of power needed to fight in this final battle. Only you can aid him. Furthermore, if the warlord Naraboo is defeated, you will have, in effect, saved us all. Why not offer you this gift as a reward?”

His words made sense; they were what she needed to hear.

“I’ll go to the battle, and I’ll fight.”

“Then there’s hope yet,” Limper whispered.

“If he falls… If I must, I will use this spell to protect his soul,” Opal said in declaration. “I’m ready.”