Chapter 15

Finnian’s hands shook uncontrollably. If O’Leary’s threats were true, and he was really coming after them, would he stop at nothing to capture Abbott- or worse? After all, he had seemingly killed this person without a second thought and continued on his way. Finnian wasn’t quite sure how O’Leary knew where they were, but he sure he had ways to find out. He shivered. What if he was watching them right now, with this body as bait? Was this a trap?

He turned to look at Abbott, who was babbling nonsense, his mind working at a hundred miles per minute. “He’s here- and I’m- I’ll be-”

Finnian wasn’t thinking much more coherently, but he knew he had to do something to calm Abbott down before he went into shock. One hand was still pressed over where the branch had broken off in his chest, and Finnian could see where the edges of his fingers were stained from the blood that had crept out from beneath them. He needed to find a doctor, but Finnian wasn’t sure where the closest town was. Besides, even if they did manage to find someone who could help Abbott, what were the chances that they had enough money to pay for it?

He took a deep breath, willing himself to stay calm for Abbott’s sake. He turned away from the corpse, lying forlornly in the bushes, and questioned quietly, “Abbott?”

The other boy made no move to show that he had heard Finnian. His face was ghostly pale in the dimming light, stark against the dark waves of his hair, which brushed back and forth with the shaking of his body. Finnian urged with a more desperate tone in his voice, “Abbott, bud, are ya listening to me?”

Abbott slowly lifted his head up, his eyes glazed over, mouth forming unspoken words as he shook his head back and forth. “Not listening.”

Finnian pressed his fingers to his eyes in exasperation. “No, you gotta listen to me. I don’t know what’s going on with-” he swallowed, worrying his next few words would set Abbott off again, but he continued nevertheless, “-with O’Leary, but all I know is that we need to leave. It’s not a matter of getting to the festival at this point, it’s… it’s a matter of getting you to a doctor. Okay?”

Abbott sighed in a small voice. “No, it’s okay. Just leave me here.”

“What? Abbott, no-”

“Yeah…” Abbott rolled this thought over in his head. “Yeah, just leave me here. O’Leary can’t get me, because I’ll be dead.” A raw, crazed laugh burst from his throat, bubbling over into a manic giggle until he was doubled over panting for air, one hand pressed against his side as he sucked in sharp breaths through his teeth. One knee hit the ground, followed by his other hand, as he balanced on the mossy forest floor, the world spinning around him.

Finnian was at his side before he could make a noise. He grabbed Abbott around the forearms, lifting him back onto his feet from behind, hot spikes of worry shooting through his gut when Abbott couldn’t even stand on his own two feet. He sagged against Finnian, smearing blood all over the front side of Finnian’s shirt, but he didn’t care. He could get a new shirt; he couldn’t get a new Abbott.

He frowned when he realized he could feel all of the bones in Abbott’s torso jutting into his own chest, even from behind. He made a mental note to get him fattened up while encouraging Abbott to support his own body. “C’mon, just stand for me. Okay?”

Abbott shifted his weight onto his feet, feeling his knees buckling, but managed to stay standing nevertheless. Feeling the heat of embarrassment over being babied creeping up his face, he said in his strongest voice, “I’m fine, Finn.”

There was an audible noise as Finnian rolled his eyes, snorting a puff of air out of his nose. “Sure, and I’m the king. No, you’re not. We’re leaving.”

Abbott smiled despite himself, but it quickly turned into a face of dismay as he stuttered in a weak voice, “We can’t just leave him here.”

Finnian cocked his head. “Who- the body? Abbott, we have to go. We can’t take it with us.”

Sighing deeply, he whimpered, “He didn’t deserve this. Whoever he was, O’Leary killed him. That’s the mark left behind when he does magic. And for what reason is he dead? Probably not a good one.” He twisted awkwardly in Finnian’s grasp so his body was facing Finnian. “He’d do the same for me.”

Finnian doubted that was true, but inside he agreed that it wasn’t right to leave the body there. They didn’t have anything to bury it with, though, and Abbott was in no condition to be doing any physical activity that could possibly injure him further. Finnian ran a hand through his hair, but regretted letting go of Abbott when he tore free of his grasp, legs suddenly stronger.

He took a few steps across the woods before Finnian could stop him and knelt beside the body. It was horrific to look at, and every inch of Abbott’s body was screaming for him to turn back, but in his heart he knew that wasn’t right. He laid the hand covered in his own blood across the heart of the corpse, right over the mark that had been left behind, extinguishing the dim purple light that still lingered. He knew that blood was a catalyst for magic, and that it would enhance his natural abilities. That being said, he was still largely untrained in the art of magic, and he hoped that he could finish the task that had been started.

Closing his eyes, he felt the familiar heat of the green light fill his irises. Except, instead of rendering control of his consciousness to the entity, he pictured in his mind what he wanted to accomplish. The earth parting, creating a deep pit in front of him as two giant hands from the sky dug into it, dirt collecting underneath the massive fingernails as they dug. Abbott willed himself not to open his eyes, even as he heard the distinctive sounds of the ground shifting in front of him.

He saw it clearly in his head- the shriveled body sinking into the newly formed grave, being laid to rest by soft hands from above. He could feel the pressure underneath his palm lessen as the body disappeared into the earth, swallowed by the ground, forever sleeping in a soft bed of dirt. He didn’t have to worry about being eaten or disturbed by the elements anymore- all he had to do was rest in peace, oblivious to the world around him. Abbott wished he could slumber as well, but he knew he had a mission to carry on with. He would not let this death be in vain.

The tide of earth swept in, sending clods careening down into the hole, covering the man from the gaze of the living one last time. Abbott said a prayer in his head to the gods to carry his spirit into the afterlife. He supposed that being killed by magic, religion’s sworn enemy, had to guarantee him a spot in whatever heaven they believed in.

Abbott manipulated the earth again, smoothing it across the opening when the grave was completely full of earth, willing the bushes to close over the ground again. He saw them taking root, their tendrils curling down deep into the ground, taking nutrients from the body, giving it new life.

He grabbed the moisture from the air and condensed it into a cloud, the water falling over the ground, fresh and purifying, clearing away the sins that had been committed upon the land, forever tainting the woods. Abbott hoped that with the rain, the evils would be purged away from the body, leaving it peacefully for the rest of its days.

A strange sense of calm washing over him, he gradually opened his eyes and found that it was light out, the sky a molten shade of fuschia blossoming with streaks of orange. He could barely feel the pain in his chest anymore, and while he could tell that the injury was far from gone, the cleansing feeling had radiated into his own body, temporarily distracting him from the wound.

He didn’t quite know how the time had passed so quickly, but he knew from experience that reality was different in the vision-world. He didn’t know why it would be any different here. All he was doing was manipulating the visions he saw, which were taken straight from the real world.

If he could do that, what else could he do? He knew that the fundamental rules of magic stated that creating something out of nothing was impossible, but he hadn’t done that, had he? No, the rain had come from the moisture in the air itself, and the earth was already there. He had just simply used his knowledge of his surroundings to manipulate them- simple as that.

He stood stiffly, his legs creaky from crouching for hours on end, and felt the blood rush to his head as sparks exploded in his eyes. He ignored them, and instead bowed his head towards the fresh dirt laid out in front of him. He cleared his throat, and began to speak.

“I didn’t know you. I have no idea who you were in life, or even who you are in death. And I’m sorry about that.

The man who killed you is-was my master. He hurt me too. I wish it had never happened to anyone else. No one deserved it but me, especially not you.

Maybe you had a family, and they’re waiting for you to return right now. But they’ll never get the satisfaction of seeing you return home with open arms.

Maybe you had a special someone in your life who will never know how you met your demise. Maybe they’ll think you left them for someone better, and live with the thoughts that it was their fault.

Maybe you’re leaving behind the promise of a new life, a better life, a life you will never be able to fulfill.

This isn’t fair. One man should never have the power to rob another of the thing most cherished to them- their life.

Alastair O’Leary seems to think he is entitled over others, that he can snuff out a life without another thought. Alastair O’Leary killed you.

I’ll make sure he gets what he deserves. I promise.”

Without another word, he swiveled on the ball of his foot and found Finnian watching him, eyes bleary but alert, looking as if he hadn’t slept a wink. He hadn’t. He had sat and watched Abbott work the whole night, amazed by the power this boy held without even knowing it.

Abbott motioned with his head towards the horse, who was tied to a tree in the clearing. “C’mon, Finn. We have a debt to make even.”