14

“What?” Varick exclaimed, rising quickly. The sound wasn’t thunder from clouds but from a crowd of angry voices. “Why are they doing this? And why now?” he growled.

They hurried after Varick, up to the balcony which overlooked the front of the castle and the gate beyond. Rosen spied hundreds of lights from torches. Chants and cries echoed the air, and she spied Gasto at the head.

“The Beast of the Night must die!”

“It’s time we avenge those the Disteldorn beasts murdered!”

“This castle has scared us away from the mountains long enough. Now we will make the beast scared of us!”

The gate rattled as the crowd pushed against the rods and tried climbing over.

Varick’s mouth hung slack. “They really believe my family were the ones who attacked them?” He shook his head, incredulous.

Rosen cupped her hand over his. “It’s time we found out the truth.” She nodded her chin up to the night sky, to the surrounding tops of the mountains. On the side of the peak to their right, a fire burned—a light in the dark for someone who was up there despite the chill of autumn night.

It could only be one person.

Varick clenched his chest and nodded. “Time is running out. Let’s end this.” He gave her hand an affectionate squeeze.

She wanted to ask what he meant by time running out—it felt like he meant something more than the spell—but Licht brought them their cloaks and Varick lifted her in his arms. Before she could protest being carried, he leaped off the balcony onto a lower roof, running along the edge and vaulting to the next. She held on for dear life.

The Disteldorn servants waved, and she prayed they would stay safe somehow. The townspeople’s shouts followed after them.

Varick cleared the castle and landed in an oak in the gardens, from there leaping across the hedges and into the forest, up the mountainside.

Varick climbed the distance with ease. The campfire grew brighter by the second, up on a flattened stretch near the rocky peak. A coating of snow covered everything there.

He set her down at the forest’s edge, before the wide empty stretch of rock. The fire was big enough to light the whole area, and it showed Kalt’s stooped figure: drawing one final line through the snow and soil with a cane—a line that completed the star symbol she’d seen in the spell book.

“Let me handle things. I can’t have you getting hurt,” said Varick.

She made a face. “As if. I’m destroying that symbol.”

He flashed her a smile that made her heart flutter. “Fine. But let me handle Kalt.” He brushed a finger down her cheek. Only two petals left on the ruby rose glowed. “Stay safe.”

Varick started out onto the barren, snow-covered stretch, head held high and regal.

Kalt spotted his approach and straightened. “So, you’ve figured it out, have you?”

He regarded Varick coldly, then snapped his fingers. From all around the clearing, golems rose—clay and inhuman, their gaping mouths jagged with rows of fangs, heaving up from the rock. “I suppose it was only a matter of time.”

“Give us our memories back, Lord Kalt, and perhaps I can overlook this,” said Varick.

Kalt gave a grim laugh. “Oh I highly doubt you’d be able to. But then, what does it matter now? That girl has ruined everything. You’re close to death, and that means my careful plan will collapse.”

“What are you going on about?” Varick demanded.

“I must restart things—give you a fresh, new memory. Take the girl out of your life.”

Anger raged across Varick’s features. But before he could do anything, Kalt clicked his tongue and pointed, “Seize him!”

The golems rushed in as one, lumbering in their uneven gait.

Varick leaped, and punched his fist through the first golem’s head, shattering clay and dust. He turned in the air, kicking his foot up into another golem’s chin, breaking the head off.

Both creatures tumbled to the ground. But more and more came, and again Varick leaped, smashing through more golems.

One caught his cape and threw him against the ground, where it pummeled its heavy fists into Varick’s chest.

Varick rolled out of the way, coughing, and with a burst of vempar speed wove through the crowd of golems, smashing his right fist through them. But they pressed in all around him like walls, and his energy couldn’t last forever.

Something slapped across Varick’s cheek.

He roundhouse kicked another golem before turning to see what it was.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for sooo long,” said Schatten, hovering in the air at his height.

Varick snarled and slashed his hand out to grab the shadow nymiad, but Schatten slipped to the side easily. “Is this who you’re serving now? This warlock?”

Schatten’s purple frown glowed. “I don’t serve anyone anymore. I’m simply earning myself land, where I can build a place for other nymiads and rule, no longer having to deal with you vempars and humans.” The shadows cast by the firelight and moon writhed around Schatten and shot forward.

Varick vaulted into the air, back-flipping behind a golem which he then kicked forward for Schatten’s shadows to catch. “Fine, so you hate me. But why would you hurt Rosenrot?” his voice raised.

“I wanted your heart to break. Just as mine did when my family was murdered while defending yours!” Schatten’s lip and fists trembled with rage, and he threw the golem aside, sending more shadows forward.

“You could have left. I wasn’t making you stay,” Varick said as he landed on top of a golem, tricking the shadows again.

“And leave the castle, the only tie to my family I had left? Oh, no no.” Schatten shook his head, fingers directing ribbons of shadow climbing up the golem.

Varick jumped away onto a second golem.

“I’m not going anywhere. It’s you I want gone, so that the castle can be made mine.”

A shadow caught Varick’s leg and dragged him down to the ground. He spat out a mouthful of snow, blood mixed in.

“But if Kalt wants you alive, I guess I could put up with you being my servant, for a change. I’m sure Kalt can make your mind more submissive.”

Golem fists pounded down on him as shadows held Varick to the snow.

“Don’t worry. The spell is almost ready, and then your pitiful love and pain will come to an end.”

Varick struggled to rise, but golems piled over and around him. He didn’t have much strength left; he could feel his life bleeding out with the fading ruby rose…

Rosen watched from the forest edge as the fight first began, then crept her way around the clearing while the golems focused on Varick. She hurried, crouching, coming towards the hot fire and the nearby symbol from the other side.

She noticed the spell book, not far from Kalt’s foot. His gaze was on Varick as she crawled forward, the tall bonfire between them.

She inched closer to the star symbol drawn in the snow, reached out her hand to the nearest point, and rubbed the lines away, trying to do it quietly.

Something crushed down on her wrist and she yelped in pain. Kalt looked down at her, suddenly there, his boot pinning her arm.

“Well, well, what should we do about you?” Kalt pretended to wonder. His hand gripped her from the back of the neck and lifted her up, her feet dangling. “I don’t think I could get much use out of a deformed creature like yourself. Except maybe to turn your corpse into another porcelain golem to serve me,” he mused.

Rosen kicked her feet and screamed, clawing her fingernails down his arm. But he only laughed. With the cane in his other hand, he began to redraw the star’s point.

Varick heard Rosenrot’s scream. Rage pulsed through his body, adrenaline filling his muscles. With a final burst of strength, he shoved up, forcing golems tumbling off him and breaking the binds of the shadows.

His fist met Schatten’s chest before the nymiad could back away, and his shadowy form skidded and rolled across the snowy expanse, clear to the other side.

Varick grabbed one golem by the leg, hoisting and swinging it in the air, plowing it through the other golems that were left, like a blade cutting down grass. He headed towards Kalt, flinging the golem his way. “Let her go, I’m warning you,” he growled. Pain lanced through his chest with every breath, but he kept his mind focused on her—only her.

Kalt moved in one swift motion, striking his cane across Rosenrot’s head and tossing her unconscious body behind him.

Varick’s breath hitched as she lay there. He roared and charged across the snow at Kalt.

Kalt swirled his fingers and cane about, and the silver crescent moons on his robes began to glow and pull free of the fabric: They hovered in the air, gaining solidity and growing. He jabbed the cane forward, and the moons solid as blades spun through the air towards Varick.

Varick raised his arm to block one, and the blade almost took off his wrist. He held his hand in place, letting it heal, and tried to dodge the other five blades coming at him.

He ducked under and swerved, but as they passed, the spinning crescents turned back around midair; they were fast. He fell sideways, narrowly avoiding a fatal slice across the throat.

Kalt sent forth more crescent blades, the bonfire’s light glinting off his grin.

Varick knew he saw his weakness: the slowing of his movements, the pain, trouble breathing. The time for the spell was drawing nearer. He flicked his wrist, testing if it had healed.

“Why are you doing this, Kalt? What is it you want? What can you get from Freudendorf and me that you couldn’t just get somewhere else?” he demanded, panting.

A volley of moon blades came at his legs and chest. He vaulted high into the air to avoid them, but a blade separate from the rest appeared suddenly—digging into his right breast while he fell to the ground.

The force of the blade slammed him onto his back, pinning him to the snow and rock, forcing the air out of his lungs, a new pain lancing through his chest.

A second crescent moon pierced through his right side, pinning him more firmly to the ground.

“So many why’s and what’s,” mused Kalt. “But since you’ll be forgetting everything soon, I suppose I could give you an answer.” He took out from his robes a satin pouch, untied it and sprinkled a handful of glittering orange substance across the drawn star symbol.

A hum of energy filled the air, raising the hair along the nape of Varick’s neck.

“I’ve always despised the Altered and mages, the things they can do that no human can—at least, not without the proper ingredients,” said Kalt. “I cannot touch the coding of the world as the mages once did, but with the aid of a special salt, I can still do things.” He jiggled the pouch. “A rare salt, which happens to form alongside the regular salt in these mines, here. Not many know of its special properties other than for flavor. I came across it during my travels, not far from this valley. That is what brought me to Freudendorf.

“This town had been built and ruled by the Disteldorn vempar family for many years: created to be a haven for the Altered, a place hidden away from human hunters and prejudice. I could hardly believe my luck finding it; it was like discovering buried treasure! And with my powers and golems, it was easy to take the Disteldorns by surprise and kill them off.”

Varick stared; he wasn’t sure if he was shaking from the overwhelming shock or from rage. Kalt’s grin flashed sharp as a knife.

“I decided to keep you alive though, Varick, as part of the spell I cast over the town. That cursed mage artifact I’d been carrying with me finally served a purpose: keeping you alive.”

“What spell did you cast?” Varick gritted out. “What did you do to the town?”

Kalt gave a dry laugh. “You’ve already guessed it, haven’t you? Freudendorf is a town of vempars, but my spell makes them believe they are human and see the Disteldorns as evil beasts. I made them fear you and the mountains near your castle so they would abandon the salt mines, fearing the Beast of the Night and its curse.

“And since then, I’ve been able to harvest the rare salt in secret, and harvest the blood of vempars, as well, making a profit by selling portions at the black market. Oh, I keep most of the salt for myself; and vempar blood mixed with this special ingredient keeps me young and lets me heal.

“Some vempars wake up from the spell, now and then, and I have to sadly end their lives and replace them with human-like golems. That’s been the only downside. I don’t like to diminish my blood harvest.”

Varick fought to breathe, squeezing his eyes shut. “But…vempars need life-energy to survive.”

“Yes, and I make sure that all of the town’s food has some in it,” replied Kalt.

“But…but…” Varick struggled to comprehend the truth, and slowly all the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. “Everything has been a lie. You’ve deceived everyone. The town was my family’s to watch over, and I failed them. You never saved my life—you took it away. You took my family away from me!”

The star symbol in the snow started to glow an ember orange. The Memory Shift spell was beginning to renew.

Varick grabbed the sharp edges of the moon blades and tore them free of his body, then rose and slung them at Kalt.

The blades sunk into Kalt’s abdomen. His sneering grin didn’t falter as he pulled them out and the skin beneath healed. “I already told you I can heal myself like a vempar, thanks to you.”

Kalt motioned with his cane and the moon blades all re-gathered, coming at Varick in a volley. Too many to dodge, too fast.

Varick cast about for something, anything, when his hand found a golem leg. He hoisted the golem and swung it as he would a mace—knocking moon blades aside, some sticking into the clay creature.

Rosen’s head pounded as she opened her eyes. Shapes shifted before her, slowly taking form: Varick and Kalt battling.

She forced herself onto her hand and knees, and crawled forward, inch by agonizing inch, until she was in reach of the drawn star, its lines now glowing with power.

She swiped her hand across the snow and shallow dirt to ruin the line, and the star’s energy burned her skin. She bit back a yelp.

Sucking in a breath through her nose, she prepared herself for the pain and swiped her entire arm across the lines forming a star point—wiping them out and burning her entire arm.

The star hissed, and its glow flickered.

Before Kalt could call the moon blades back around, Varick charged, slamming the golem’s body into Kalt—the tips of the blades that were sticking out of the clay stabbing into Kalt.

Varick grabbed another blade, its edge cutting into his hand, and he grabbed Kalt by the collar. “Even vempars can die,” he told him, and drove the blade through Kalt’s chest.

Kalt screamed, an agonized howl. Blood dripped down his front as he fell backwards into the snow, dark robes billowing around him.

The star symbol sputtered and hissed until it finally winked out, and the Memory Shift spell was broken.

Memories flooded back to Varick, back to Licht and those in the castle, back to Gasto and the townspeople as they worked to break down the castle door and crawl in through windows. They ceased their rampage, and many slumped to the ground, heads held in their hands, tears dripping, as they remembered who they really were and their kind rulers, the Disteldorns.