Water's Wrath

“Sorry? For what?”

“For taking your father from you all those years.” He winced.

“What?” She blinked.

“For taking all those mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers from their homes. I didn’t know, I wouldn’t have . . .” He sounded like a boy pleading to a parent for forgiveness. “I didn’t know how much it hurt to lose someone you truly loved. It was my fault.”

“What was?” she asked gently, deciding arguing would be more stressful for him.

“The war.” Aldrik swallowed. “The War of the Crystal Caverns was my fault.”

“What?” Vhalla breathed, dazed and confused. “How? No, Aldrik, I’m sure . . . You’re just guilt ridden right now. Everything isn’t your fault. Even your mother. She didn’t die because of you, she died because of insane xenophobes.”

“It is!” The fire in the hearth flared, emphasizing Aldrik’s wild emotions. “He told me that I was powerful, like my mother—that I would be great. I didn’t know the whole truth, and I believed him. He told me that I could serve my country, help my family. That I would be loved, more than my brother ever was, more than any prince, king, or emperor ever would be.”

Vhalla opened her mouth, struggling for a word in his almost angry tirade.

“I was a fool, a boy. I was innocent, wide-eyed. And, like the idiot I was, I believed him.” Aldrik cursed at himself. “I believed him because I wanted to. Because I did not yet know the world was full of liars and deceivers. But I should have known, I was too smart not to know.”

“Who is ‘him’?” Something sunk heavy in her stomach.

“Egmun.”

“What did the bastard do to you?” Vhalla struggled to control her rage, her anger.

“Nothing I didn’t ask for myself.” Aldrik hung his head.

“I don’t understand,” she confessed, wishing she did so he would not have to endure another moment of the conversation.

“He didn’t even choose me, not at first. I’m sure I would have been high on his list, but being the prince, I was a liability to his goals. Too many eyes on me, too much risk someone would find out.” Aldrik fell back onto the pillows limply.

“Find out what?” Vhalla asked.

“He was fascinated by the caverns, and he wanted to learn their secrets.”

“For power?” she interjected.

“I don’t think so . . .” Aldrik mused softly. “Egmun was never really like that. He was addicted to knowledge. It was beyond liking books or memorizing facts. He wanted to push the boundaries. He did not just want to know, he wanted to be the first to know. He wanted to discover, and each discovery was a drug stronger than any other. Even if he held all the power in the world, it would have bored him after the initial rush, I think.”

Vhalla reclined on the pillows as well, too exhausted by the conversation to sit another moment.

“Egmun chose Victor.”

“Victor?”

“Indeed. But because he was my mentor, I was eventually brought in on it, too.” Aldrik sighed. “I thought—I saw the crystals as the pinnacle of what it meant to be a sorcerer: to handle them, to wield them, to control them.

“Egmun taught us both.” The prince stared at his hands. “He put crystals in our palms, he took notes, and he taught us what he knew. Victor had been at it longer than I had, but I took to it like a fish to water. I knew power, and I did not want to relinquish it. Egmun was an amazing teacher, really. He was charismatic, enthusiastic, encouraging. He wanted to watch us excel and to learn from us. I had a taste, and I was hungry and wanted more; however much he gave me wasn’t enough. It was never enough.”

“But, crystal corruption?” Vhalla asked.

“He was careful, or tried to be,” Aldrik addressed her concern. “He would only let us handle them every few days. Victor was the first to show signs of sickness though. Then we turned into test subjects without realizing it. Victor was constantly pushed to the limit to determine how much he could endure. Looking back, it was wild, it was reckless, and it was amazing Victor did not end up corrupted with taint.”

Vhalla remembered Victor’s notebook. It was all true.

“Egmun knew. Of course, he knew. The man knew everything, even beyond what was written in books. If there was a secret whispered on someone’s lips, it would find its way to him. Maybe that’s why he’s the perfect—in all the worst ways—Head of Senate now. He knew of my mother, of her sacrifice. He knew it was her magic that sealed the caverns.

“He went to the caverns and tried to unlock it himself. He was a gifted sorcerer, but he wasn’t strong enough. The magic of the barrier rejected him.”

“But it wouldn’t reject you.” She understood what happened with horrific clarity. Magic wasn’t in the blood, but she remembered Gianna explaining how there was something about magic passed through families.

“Egmun had procured the sword, he had me. Victor was no longer needed.” Aldrik clenched his fists, barring his teeth in anger. “He took me to the caverns with our sacrifice. He paid the blood toll, but it wasn’t enough. The man we killed was simply a Commons, so it was rejected.

“Everything went wrong. The delicate stasis of the crystals was thrown out of balance by my actions, letting the power seep into the world. It unleashed taint into our world, reaching out eagerly to corrupt as quickly as possible.” Aldrik’s voice weakened. “I rode back through the rain and told my father everything. That I’d damned our people and cursed our kingdom. He sent soldiers, but they were no match and became tainted monsters, spreading the taint further. I told my father, I told him I wasn’t fit to be a ruler . . .”