When they finally set down, they were well out into the grasslands of the Streleheim, far distant from much of anything.
As they disembarked onto the flats amid miles and miles of emptiness, Paxon felt for the first time that something wasn’t right. The sense of uneasiness he experienced as he looked around was palpable, but he kept silent and waited to see what would happen.
“Where are we?” Sebec asked finally as they walked out onto the flats.
The Ard Rhys stopped and turned to face him. “Our destination. This is where we part company.”
“What are we expected to do out here?” He looked confused.
“Not we, Sebec. Paxon isn’t going with you. Nor I. You will go alone.”
Sebec stared. “Go where? I don’t understand.”
“I think you do.” Her voice was soft, but her eyes were hard as she faced him. “You crossed a forbidden line, Sebec. You have to accept the consequences. You know that.”
Sebec’s face changed, turning pale, all expression leaching away. “This isn’t right. You’ve made a mistake.”
“I wish that were so. I wish I had. But we both know the truth. You were the spy in our midst, the traitor who stole the artifacts of magic and gave them to Arcannen, the one who kept him informed of the details of all our undertakings. Why did you do it?”
“I didn’t! I didn’t do anything!” He was incensed, outraged. Arms in the air, hands clenched into fists, he was gesturing wildly. “You’re wrong about this! It wasn’t me! How could you think it was me?”
“Are you telling me it was someone else?”
“Yes, that’s what I’m telling you!”
Paxon could not believe what he was hearing. A part of him wanted to jump in and defend Sebec–his friend, his teacher, his companion. But he held off, waiting to hear the rest of what the Ard Rhys had to say, thinking–hoping–she would somehow turn out to be wrong.
“How could I think it was you?” she repeated. “Well, I’ll tell you. I never suspected it was you in the beginning, never once even considered it could be you. But when you took the Stiehl, I began to think more seriously about the possibility that it might be. I couldn’t get past the fact that only you and I had clear access to everything in the artifact chamber. A skilled user of magic, trained properly, could negate those wards, no matter how cleverly laid down, so long as he or she knew how it had been done. You qualified. Even then, I thought it must be someone else, prayed that it was, that you weren’t the one responsible. I had so much faith in you. I believed so strongly in your loyalty. Could I have been that badly mistaken?”
She shook her head. “So I decided to test you. I told you I had decided to place the crimson Elfstones in the chamber vault. I let you help me layer in the wards. Essentially, I gave you the keys to open them. When I examined those wards several days ago, they had been taken down and put back. Only you could have done that because only you would have known how to both remove and replace them in the exact same way. Which you had to do to protect yourself because when you opened the vault you discovered the Elfstones weren’t there. Of course, they never were. I kept them tucked away in my chambers and installed an empty box for you to find.”
She paused, assessing his expression. “But then you did something even more foolish. You sent me to speak to Paxon without warning me I would find him in his sister’s room. And afterward, while I lay recovering from her attack on me, you agreed to let Paxon go alone to Wayford, knowing what he intended. It was all too much. Taken as a whole, it removed any doubt.”
“I cannot believe you are accusing me!” Sebec shouted. “How can you do this to me?”
“How could you do it to me?” There was a dangerous look in her eyes. “I don’t know when I first started to suspect you, Sebec. I can’t be sure because all the while I kept telling myself I must be wrong. I wanted to be wrong.”
“You are wrong!” he screamed at her.
“I am so very disappointed in you. I trusted you, and you betrayed me. You betrayed the Druid order. I think this is all Arcannen’s doing, but I need for you to tell me I’m right.”
She stepped close to him and seized his hands. “Am I right? Look at me! Am I?”
He started to say something, his face angry and harsh, but then his face changed as his eyes locked on hers and her hands tightened about his, almost as if he were a puppet whose strings had been cut. “Yes.”
“Why did you do it?”
Sebec looked stricken, his defenses gone, his denials pointless. Paxon knew at once that the Ard Rhys had done something to him, perhaps used magic to render him compliant, but whatever the case he was defenseless in her grip. “You wouldn’t understand.”
She looked startled. “What wouldn’t I understand? Tell me!”
He blinked rapidly. “Arcannen picked me up off the streets when I was thieving and lying to stay alive and gave me a home. He cared about me when no one else did! He raised me and trained me in the uses of magic. He told me I was meant to do something important, something great. I would have done anything for him.”
“You were spying for him from the beginning?” she asked in disbelief.
“He was the one who sent me to you. I was to make you like me enough that you would trust me. I was good at doing that, even when I was on the streets. I could make people believe anything. Arcannen told me it was a gift I should put to use. He sent me to Paranor to become a Druid and get close to you. I did that. I became your favorite. I was your shadow, and everything you did I reported back to him.”
“Shades, Sebec,” Aphenglow whispered. “Don’t you understand what he did to you? Don’t you realize how you were used?”
The young Druid dropped to his knees and began to cry. “I’m so sorry. Please forgive me. Don’t hurt me. Please, Mistress!”
She released his hands and stepped away. “You chose your path, and now you must travel it to its unfortunate end. I wish I could offer you a different alternative, but your actions ultimately led to the deaths of Starks and the young Druid on the streets of Leah. The extent of your betrayal gives me no choice.” She turned away. “Come, Paxon. Time to be going.”
The Highlander hesitated, still staring at Sebec in disbelief, and then he started to follow her.
“Paxon, wait!” Sebec cried out, struggling to his feet. “Don’t leave me like this! Help me! Tell her how much I did for you! Tell her how good I was to you! Ask her to spare me! Are you just going to let this happen?”
The Highlander almost responded, wanting to do something to change things, knowing what was coming. But the Ard Rhys took his arm in a firm grip and turned him away. “Let him be.”
Together, they walked back to the cruiser and climbed aboard. The Trolls, with Captain of the Druid Guard Dajoo Rees leading, went past them toward Sebec as they did so. Momentary wails of despair rose, cries of “Spare me! Give me my life!” And then silence.
When the Trolls returned to the airship and set about casting off the mooring lines and preparing to lift away, Paxon was sitting on the bench he had occupied with Sebec on the flight out, still staring fixedly at the deck planking. At the last possible moment, unable to help himself, he lifted his head and looked back.
Sebec’s body lay sprawled on a blood–soaked patch of ground, separated from his head. As the airship slowly began to rise, his remains grew steadily smaller and finally shrank away to nothing.
After they had been airborne for a time and Paxon had begun to recover his composure, the Ard Rhys came back to sit beside him. “I wish there had been another choice,” she said quietly.
The Highlander exhaled sharply, running his hands through his red hair. “I trusted him. I liked him. I don’t understand.”
She shook her head. “People are capable of terrible things. We think we know them, but we really don’t. We let ourselves be deceived because we are always expecting the best out of those who seem willing to provide it.”