He drops to the ground and frantically tugs on Alaric’s trousers before covering his head. “Get down, boy! We’re under attack! The girl is using her infernal magic against us!”
But Alaric remains on his feet, tall and stoic, as the golden lightshifts and eddies, slowly taking shape. “Who says it’s magic, Father?”
“What else could it be?” Soren demands.
“Memories.” Alaric leans forward, looming over his father. “I know about the hidden hospital, about the dying people. I discovered your little secret yesterday.”
As Alaric speaks, my memory of the warehouse with its rickety beds and despondent patients swirls into focus, enraging me all over again.
“I can’t believe you thought you could keep this from me,” Alaric continues, voice quivering with fury. “I can’t believe you’re willing to continue taking memories from our people whenthisis the cost!”
“How are you doing this?” Soren stands and staggers in a circle. “How have you brought the hospital here?”
“The hospital shouldn’t exist at all!” Alaric roars, causing the ground beneath us to tremble.
“You act as if we have another choice,” Soren snaps. “Of course I’m not pleased to see a few of our people deteriorating, but we need memories to fuel our power. And we’re treating their symptoms with bagrava. It’s the best we can do.”
“You can’t honestly believe that!” Alaric cries. “And it’s more than a few people—it’s an entire warehouse! Soon, it will be all of Vanzador. This isn’t sustainable, Father. You know that.”
“What Iknowis that Vanzador needs our power to be safe and prosperous, so that is what I provide—whatweprovide. Have you forgotten you’re just as guilty of using their memories?”
“Only because I didn’t know any better,” Alaric bites back. “But now I do. If we continue draining our people’s life essence, there will be no one and nothing left of Vanzador to protect and serve. We need to find another way to fuel our power.”
“Thereisno other way!” Soren bellows, and the ground heaves in response, pitching me sideways. “We will continue doing what we’ve always done and use as much bagrava as necessary to keep our mostimportant citizens in good health,” Soren says resolutely.
But Alaric shakes his head. “How do you determine whose lives are most important? And how do you know there’s no other way? Have you ever experimented with alternative tithes?”
“Of course I have! I’ve tried pouring every part of myself into the ground, but nothing works. The earth won’t accept any other form of payment.”
Alaric flinches like he’s been struck. “Why didn’t you tell me? I could have been helping you, sharing the burden. We have to keep trying until we find another way. It’s our responsibility to—”
“Enough!” Soren shouts. “I’m returning to the Fortress, and it would be in your best interest to join me. Forget this ill-conceived intervention that was clearly the idea of your scheming wife.”
Soren sets off with brisk, angry strides—in the entirely wrong direction. It’s easy to get turned around up here on the summit, surrounded on every side by endless scree and sky, and Alaric doesn’t redirect him.
“I’m not going with you, and I’m not going to forget any of this. We can’t bury our heads in the dirt and pretend nothing’s wrong, Father,” Alaric calls, his eyes ablaze with fire and determination. He’s never looked more beautiful and brave, standing up to the man who’s given him everything—and taken just as much.
“If you refuse to do what’s best for our people,” Alaric continues, “I’ll be forced to reveal the hospital. I’ll show them where their loved ones have actually disappeared to instead of the stories you’ve invented, and the memories you convinced them to purge. Do you think our people will still eagerly give their memories to the earth when they know what’s truly at stake?”
Soren wheels back around. “How can you disrespect and undermine me like this, after everything I’ve done for you? After all the years we’ve spent working side by side? I’ve been nothing but kind and loving and supportive. Don’t I deserve the benefit of the doubt?”
“There’s no doubt what’s happening to our people,” Alaric pointsout. “And we both know you’ve only loved and supported me to hide your own guilt.”
Soren’s face contorts into an unrecognizable mask of fury. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, Father, I do.”
Soren holds up a quivering finger. Spittle flies from his lips as he speaks. “If you proceed with this madness, I’ll tell them it was you. I’ll tell everyoneyou’vebeen keeping the hospital a secret fromme. That you’re the one who callously takes their memories. I’ll make them believe you’re responsible for it all, and you know they’ll believe me. They’ll always trust me over you because you’re weak and dithering and have never had what it takes to rule. I know it, my councilors know it, and deep down, you know it. Soon the people will know it too—how inept you are, how much I’ve coddled you.”
Soren’s hateful words stab my flesh like thorns. I can only imagine how deeply they stab Alaric, having his fears and insecurities laid bare like this.
Alaric stands completely still and in a low, calm voice says, “Our people only trust you because they’ve never seen the truth. But I have other memories, too, Father. Much older memories I can share if I need to.”
“I don’t know what you’re referring to,” Soren blusters.
Alaric nods at me, and I whisper to the silver button, launching the second wave of our attack.
Another whoosh of light explodes from my hands, and Soren’s council room materializes over the hospital, creating a dizzying convergence of scenes.
