34. Geological Climatology III #2
I braced for the lecture. We had a duty to protect the Rift. It was her role as the Saergrim. To suggest she abandon it was failure in and of itself.
It was shortsighted. Selfish. Cruel.
“I love you, Wren. More than anything,” Gams finally said. “And I will leave both the worlds to Ferrin’s mercy if that is what you ask of me.”
The storm howled in my ears, echoing the one that raged in my head.
Gams would leave.
This could all be over.
“You say the word,” she continued, “and I’ll leave the Rift. We will find somewhere safe from Ferrin. You, me, and your mother. I’ll go get her from Keldori right now if that’s what you want. I’ll meet you where your real body is resting in the strath. We can run away together.”
“And Ciarán?” I asked. “And my friends?”
“If that is what they wish.”
“But Ferrin might ruin the world.”
“You are my world,” she insisted. “You are my everything, and Ferrin Quillguard’s cruelty is not my fault nor my responsibility. Why should I be the one to risk everything to stop him when my granddaughter needs me?”
“Be-because you’re the Saergrim?” I stammered.
“I volunteered to block the Rift nearly half a millennium ago. I built this world. Is that not enough?” Gams pressed. “So you say the word, Wren. I still have fight in me, but if you’re done, I am too. I’ve already given up so much. Damn the worlds if saving them means risking you too.”
I wanted so badly to agree. Everything would change if she abandoned the Rift, but hadn’t everything changed already?
Ferrin wouldn’t bother us if we stayed out of his way. We were too strong together. And with the Saergrim role abandoned, maybe Ciarán and I—
I bit my lip and closed my eyes.
Ciarán would never forgive me. He would want to fight. He would want to save the worlds.
So would the others. Orla, Iseult, Tiernan, Fana—they’d never abandon the Rift. Most of them had signed up for this, of course, while I hadn’t had a choice, but still.
“Do we stand a chance?” I whispered. “If we keep fighting, is it worth it?”
“It’s always worth it,” Gams said. “Even when we don’t stand a chance. But yes. I believe we can stop Ferrin.”
She shifted her magick to one hand to reach out for me. I took her hand, and fresh tears spilled over onto my cheeks.
“I’m so tired,” I whispered.
“I know.” She squeezed my fingers, and I fell against her shoulder, crying and wishing she could drop the storm again to hug me properly.
“It’s not fair,” I managed to gasp out. “None of this. I just want to be home.”
“You will be.” She ran her hand through my hair. “So take a moment. Breathe. I get the sense you haven’t breathed in a while. Maybe you’ve forgotten how.”
“I know how to breathe!”
“Well, then breathe better!”
I pulled away to pace in front of her, stepping over the ice figurines that mirrored the movements of the waiting armies on the shore.
I’d lost my resolve for a moment. I’d wanted so badly to run. Gams was right. This didn’t have to be our fight. But if not us, then who?
The obvious answer was Ciarán, Orla, and the others, but they needed us if they wanted to succeed.
But I was so tired of running and fighting, and if more Ergoth-level terrors existed between me and home, I wasn’t sure I could make it.
“You said four Magicians,” I suddenly realized, stopping in my path. “You said you tethered your mind to the other four Magicians, but there were only three others who helped you form Skalterra.”
Gams focused on the electrical magick arcing between her hands rather than meet my eye. I scratched at my scalp, wondering if I should drop it.
“Was the fourth Darragh?” I finally asked.
Gams tilted her head to the side so that the glare of her magick caught her glasses. “Yes.”
“Did you love him?”
“I loved all my companions, Wren.”
“Gams.”
A bolt of lightning struck the icy roof of the Rift doorway behind her, sparking spectacularly.
“What would you like me to say?” Gams hissed. “It was four hundred years ago. He’s been dead for most of that time. I did what I had to do to protect both worlds. We both did.”
“Does it feel like it’s been four hundred years?” I asked.
She inhaled sharply, and the glare on her glasses shifted to reveal tears in her eyes.
“I felt him die,” she said. “He fell through ice and drowned, and his last thoughts were of me. No amount of time can dull that.”
“Gams—”
“When your mother was very little, she’d ask about her father, same way you used to.
I would tell her about Darragh.” She smiled to herself.
“He died saving his sister’s daughter, and when I built Keel Watch Harbor, I watched his sister’s descendants filter through.
My Grimguards. Riley especially reminded me of him. But Liam—”
She shook her head.
“Ciarán,” I reminded her.
“Yes. Ciarán.” She smirked. “I’ve never met such a tenderhearted Grimguard.”
I chewed on my lip, wavering over my next words, unsure how much I wanted to reveal to Gams or admit to myself. “Can Grimguards really not be with Saergrims?”
“Did you not see how readily I would’ve left the worlds to Ferrin for you?
” Gams laughed softly. “Love is essential, but it tests our resolve. Our duty, while self-inflicted, is one of sacrifice to the Rift. A Grimguard’s duty is to aid in that sacrifice.
Do not make the poor boy choose between you and the worlds.
Doing so nearly destroyed Darragh, and like I said, Ciarán is tenderhearted. ”
“He’s stronger than you give him credit for,” I snapped.
“I didn’t say he wasn’t. His heart is possibly what reminds me of Darragh the most.”
Gams was great to talk to when it came to issues with Mom or friends at school, but I’d never seen either of the matriarchs in my life in a relationship.
I had no further desire to talk about romantic affection with her.
I wasn’t sure of my own feelings on the matter, having not given myself much of a chance to dissect them with the end of the worlds looming on the horizon.
“Una seems to like Ciarán at least,” I said, shifting the subject.
“Una?” Gams’s gaze softened over her flurrying magick. “Darragh’s Una?”
When I nodded, her face broke into a grin.
“She’s saved both our lives a few times now,” I said. “Scared the crap out of me at first. I thought she was going to eat Ciarán.”
“I would very much like to see her when you get to Keel Watch to refreeze me.”
“Right. Because I am coming, you know.”
“Oh, I know. There is no one more stubborn than my granddaughter.” She beamed at me. “No one stands a chance when you’ve made up your mind. Not even me. So I know even if I beg you not to, you’ll be here.”
I pressed my forehead to hers. In two weeks, this would be a memory. In two weeks, I’d be sitting in her kitchen while her Nightmare made me and my friends soup and painted us chickens.
“I’ll see you soon. I promise.”
“I know you will. Whatever happens next, Wren, I know you can handle it. You killed Ergoth. There is nothing in Skalterra left that can stop you.” She let go of her storm again to wrap both arms around me.
“I love you. Now hurry home. And thank you for getting rid of the blue. It was fine, but I much prefer you this way. What an honor to see you grow into yourself, no matter how this ends.”
“The blue—?” I pulled away from her and grabbed at my hair with just enough time to register that it was my usual brown rather than my Nightmare’s bright blue.
Gams, the ice, and the Rift all faded away. Rather than waking up straight away as I usually did after being a Nightmare, sleep took me, wrapping me in a welcome embrace.
Maybe my body was still too exhausted to wake up after releasing the molten rock under Skalterra to kill Ergoth. Maybe Gams had sent me to sleep on purpose, knowing I needed the rest for whatever came next.
Whatever the case, it didn’t last nearly long enough. A sudden jolt dropped me onto wooden planks.
I startled into a sitting position on the floor of a dark carriage, and then cried out as pain lanced my ribs.
They were broken again.
“Look who’s waking up at last!” A voice, feminine and self-assured, sang overhead from a cloud of wild ginger curls. “The little Saergrim. I’ve got a job for you.”
A golden monocle glinted, and Tamora, Grand Baron of the Rightsland Barony, grinned down at me, petting Jonquil where she held her in her arms.