Though their wishes were clear, there remained one person who could not speak of what choice she wanted Dnara to make. Looking down to poor Jenny, Dnara’s heart ached. How could she abandon Jenny to an unknown fate at the hands of this mage? The blight had taken everything away from Jenny, just as it had Athan and his brother, then she too had been twisted by magic into a form far from herself.
But there, almost missed within shadows blanketing the ground, Dnara saw Jenny’s eyes glance her way. Before Dnara could think it a trick of the mind, Jenny winked then returned to the well-formed mask of an immobilized, unthreatening statue. Dnara slowly averted her own gaze, trying to keep the surprise from her expression as she met Melakatezra’s waiting stare.
Athan, Treven and Jenny were waiting, too. Waiting for Dnara to make her choice. Waiting for Dnara to accept the sacrifices they had willingly made in exchange for her freedom.
As the silence carried on, Melakatezra’s placid facade cracked as the corner of her eye twitched with impatience. “Well, child? What is your choice?”
Dnara lifted her chin further, squared her shoulders and faced the black-eyed mage. “I decline your offer.”
Melakatezra’s pitch black eyes widened just before her brow angled sharply in anger. “You selfish girl. You would choose yourself over what is best for the others?” She flung her empty hand towards Dnara in a more dramatic offering. “Think of them, all they have done for you, and take my hand. Take my hand and repay their kindness. Take my hand and end their suffering!”
Dnara stood defiant. “By not taking your hand, I am repaying their kindness. They have chosen their path so that I may be free. To take your hand would disrespect all they have suffered, the choices they have made; to ignore not only all that has been lost, but also what has been gained. Taking your hand would be to depend on the promise of magic fixing everything instead of facing the truth of my situation.”
Throwing Melakatezra’s own words back at her caused the mage’s mouth to open in shock then snap shut with a rising sneer. “You ungrateful, fickle creature! Fine. If it is the hard truth of this world that you desire, then so be it.”
In a flash, Melakatezra’s empty hand filled with a silver object that moved too quickly to discern. In the blink of an eye, it shot from the mage’s hand, disappearing into shadow. Next to Dnara, Athan sucked in a pained breath then sank to his knees while clutching his chest.
“Athan!” Dnara spun to catch him as he fell, his weight taking them both down to the dirt.
“To Demroth with you!” Jenny howled and sprung from her earthy bed, sword in hand.
“How-?” Melakatezra barely had time to ask before the blackrope was on her, blue lightning blazing hot and crackling between their struggle.
Melakatezra growled, primal and low, and syllables formed on her lips. Jenny cried out in pain but did not relent. A tree branch nearby snapped and Rupert charged, the branch flinging from his reins as he plowed into the raven feathered mage.
“Go!” yelled Jenny as Rupert reared back and slammed his hooves near Melakatezra’s head. “Get on that damn mule-headed boy and go!”
“Betrayer!” Melakatezra screamed, and lightning ignited from her fingertips. “After all I gave to you!”
“You took everything away!” Jenny screamed back and thrust her sword into shadow.
Dnara watched in rapt horror as the two fought, mage’s magic to the blackrope’s anti-magic, sparks of blue and black and white illuminating the ashen trees and the ravens above. Faithful Rupert added his own body to the throng, until the ravens descended to swarm around him with pecking beaks and scratching claws. The horse whinnied in distress but did not run, and Jenny stabbed again and again but only hit shadows where flesh should be. The world had gone to madness, and Dnara could not look away from it.
“Go,” Athan wheezed, his face having gone as ashen white as the dead trees surrounding them. “Take Treven. Please!”
“No,” Dnara said and tried to pull him up with her, but his dead weight was too much.
“Please, Dnara,” he begged, hand raising to her cheek as the fighting raged on behind them. “Leave me to my choice.”
Dnara stared down at him as tears fell from her eyes. Choice? What choice had there been in any of this? He had no more choice in his fate than she in her imprisonment. Trickery and half-truths and magic; all of it blightmad and rotten!
“No,” she said again, this time more sure of that one single word than anything of her life before. No. She would no longer be pushed and pulled in directions not of her making. She would draw the line here; she would accept all she had lost but she would lose nothing further!
“Get up,” she commanded and tugged harder on Athan’s arm. Athan let out a pained groan but tried to push himself from the ground. They fell back down to the earth as he slipped, but she stood back up and pulled harder. Again he stumbled and fell, the life draining from him through a wound that did not bleed, and again she cursed the blight and struggled to help him stand.
“This is
