Child of the Keeper, Part 6

The sensation of someone broken probing in my mind is one that I’ll never forget. Cold fingers of icy darkness descend on my mind, and suddenly I’m in a cold ocean with a dark presence beside me: Fitz. I try to swim but the water is all around me, closing in.

Suddenly a tentacle grabs me. Fitz has taken hold of me and things suddenly don’t make sense anymore. The water shatters as if made of ice, but fish still swim. Many fish. But they’re not fish. They’re memories.

No! a woman’s voice cries out. “Who are you?” I yell to her, but she’s dissolved into the acid sea.

Whatever we do, we do together, Keefe’s voice says, and I can see him. He looks frighteningly like Lord Cassius.

The words I think begin to dissolve into the waters, and then I just hear. Lots and lots of words, jumbling.

I’m proud of you, son.

Alvar!

Don’t do this!

Help me, Fitz!

Help me, Fitz...!

Help me…!

Help…!

A whirlpool begins to spin, shards of the ocean ice cutting me until I am no more than a drop of water in the currents.

But one more memory remains, a fragment at the edge of the vortex. Alarik, what a beautiful boy, a woman says.

Alarik…

Alarik...

Alarik! I am Alarik!

I shake free the tentacle pulling me toward darkness, and I grab onto the liquid memory. It’s my life raft, bringing me up. And I know somehow, instinctively, I know what to do. I grab on to the dark squid in the depths and bring him up. And though he fights, I’m stronger. I take the glowing warmth from the memory and gather it up until I have enough to fill the sea. I toss it in, and though the waves protest the glowing gold, it mixes, until the deep ocean is no more.

Alarik, what a beautiful boy, speaks the memory. And in it I can now see clearly: a beautiful woman smiling down at her baby. “Alarik, what a beautiful boy,” says Sophie.

“I know,” says Fitz, his voice joyful. “I know.” He puts his hand over his wife’s.

I put the memory where it belongs in Fitz’s mind. And then I break free, and I’m being held in a man’s arms. He’s sobbing, and I find myself sobbing as well. Fitz is healed. My father. My only thing left.

“Alarik,” he finally says. “I’m sorry. I can’t even express… I can’t believe what a monster I’d become.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, “for not healing you sooner.” With this apology comes a realization: I’m a Telepath. Nothing like a near-breaking experience to jolt your ability awake.

“Fitz! Kill?” asks Keefe. He holds Cyril on the ground.

“No, Keefe, stop,” commands Fitz. Keefe childishly frowns and gets off of Cyril.

“I was so worried about you,” Cyril cries out. “You were zoned out for an hour.”

“Well, I’m a Telepath,” I tell him.

“No way!” Cyril exclaims.

“Speaking of,” Fitz says, “can you heal Keefe for me?”

I gulp. Keefe turns toward me with a murderous glint in his eyes.