Mark of the Fool
Chapter 652: The Temple of Death

“Happy belated birthday, honey,” Alex said.

The twenty-year old huntress stopped untangling her hair in front of the mirror on her dressing table, pausing part way through a section of her black locks. Her clothing was of the deepest ebony, and to Alex, tangled hair or not, she was beautiful.

Theresa turned, her face looking confused until she suddenly raised her eyebrows.

“Oh, by the Traveller, you’re right!” she gasped. “I am twenty. My birthday passed and I didn’t even notice.”

“Yeah, no wonder.” Alex handed her a velvet box. “...it was the day before we found Uldar’s Rise.”

“We had a lot on our minds then,” she said quietly, opening the box.

Inside, gleaming on a strip of black silk fabric, was a pendant fashioned of silver and platinum, with the design of a shield in the centre.

“It’s a protective amulet that should go well with the ring Elder Bloddeuwedd gave us. It’ll cover your chain shirt with greater force armour, conjure a forceshield, and create gusts of wind that’ll deflect projectiles. It, uh, also looks nice.”

Theresa beamed. “Thank you Alex, thank you so much!” she jumped up and wrapped her arms around him, pressing her lips to his. “My turn.”

She went to her closet, taking a long bundle from inside, and with a contented smile, handed it to him.

“Happy birthday,” she said softly.

The now twenty year old wizard unwrapped his gift, finding a scabbard of scarlet leather, inlaid with gold.

“It’s beautiful!” he gasped, though he looked puzzled.

“I know what you’re thinking: ‘why a scabbard’?” Theresa folded her hands over his. “Well, I think you’re going to solve the Mark one day, and when you do, you’ll want to carry a sword as a backup weapon; trust me, they’re handy. I’ll teach you how to use one when the time comes.”

“That’s a great idea, but why a scabbard instead of a swor—Oh!” He examined it closely. “Is this meant to fit Hannah’s sword?”

“It sure is,” she grinned. “It’s magical and I think she’d want you to have something to hold her sword in.”

“This is awesome, Theresa! You’re awesome!” He hugged her, lifting her off the floor. “I’m going to look so cool with this…” Alexsighed, smiling.

But, his smile soon faded.

“I feel kinda guilty laughing and enjoying myself when today is…well…” he paused.

“Carey’s and the others’ memorial service,” Theresa finished. “You’re allowed to smile and laugh on your birthday, Alex. Even if…something sad is on the same day.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I suppose…”

It seemed as if pure rotten luck had conspired to make the two events fall on the same day, but that’s the way it was: Carey’s service was to be held on the day Alex Roth was born some twenty years ago.

On the second year anniversary of him being Marked as the Fool.

He didn’t know exactly how to feel about that; conflicted was probably the best word for it, a mixture of melancholy, sadness, happiness and hope.

It was always going to be a memorable day that would stay with him forever.

He looked down at his clothing—all black, trimmed simply. His long hair was tied back, and the symbol of the Traveller hanging from a silver chain around his neck would give him a stronger tie to his fallen friend.

In the end, he wished he could have told her the truth about himself while she still lived.

But, that wasn’t meant to be.

“Is the painting ready?” Theresa asked.

“It sure is,” he said. “I’ll leave it here and if Carey’s parents show up, I’ll teleport back and bring it to them. If they don’t, then, I might try to find them later.”

“Are you nervous?”

“Yes,” he said flatly.

“Do you feel guilty?”

“Yes.”

“Me too...but, it’s not our fault, what happened,” Theresa said, though her tone said otherwise, like she didn’t quite believe her own words.

“I know…it still feels like it is though,” Alex said. “Come on, let’s get Selina and Claygon. Do you think Brutus will be alright here?”

“He’ll be fine,” she said. “We can pick him up later.”

“Sounds good,” He took a deep breath, looking at himself in the mirror. “Let’s get going.”

###

Alex, Theresa, Selina and Claygon teleported, appearing at the entry to a temple—dedicated to the concepts of death and the after-world—stretching high above the city centre. It was an enormous black and white stone structure, accented with gargoyles representing spirits of death from a number of planes, and crowned with massive domes.

Soft music drifted from inside; organ, flute, zither and drum, welcoming them through doors that were wide open to the public. A plain black rug led past the double doors to a vast room lit by flickering torches and forceballs.

“I’m sorry I didn’t get to know Carey better,” Selina said softly, as they entered the building.

“I wish I had too.” Claygon said, his voice quiet. “I really do.”

Alex and Theresa simply exchanged glances, each taking one of Selina’s hands, and hand in hand, they made their way deeper into the temple.

A soaring chamber greeted them, looking like any number of church halls back in Alric. Row after row of metal benches were placed horizontally throughout the space, each bench framed by braziers burning sweet-smelling herbs.

The room was mostly empty. A few family members of the fallen sat up front, and towering high above them, was a stone obelisk etched with the names of those who had died on Uldar’s Rise.

Framing the obelisk, were lines of coffins carved from dark wood. Carey’s empty one sat in the centre, and standing beside it, were two familiar faces.

Watcher Hill and Professor Jules were talking quietly when they spotted Alex and his family.

The smaller woman waved at them, inviting them to join her and the Watcher.

“Mr. Roth,” Professor Jules called. “Miss Roth, Ms. Lu, Claygon. I am so glad you were able to be here.”

“We wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” Theresa said, reaching the two women.

“I know, but I still feel I should voice my appreciation.” Professor Jules took Alex’s hand. “Happy Birthday, Mr. Roth. Again, I’m sorry that the dates happened to fall so—”

Alex held up a hand. “I’ll have more birthdays. We’ll only have one public service for Carey and everyone else we lost. I’d be pretty selfish if I stood here complaining.”

She gave him a weak smile. “You really are a good man. Now, you and your family go and pay your respects then find a seat, we’ll want to get ourselves oriented before everyone else arrives.”

“Got it,” Alex said. “Good luck, professor, and if either of you need me for anything, just ask.”

“Thank you, Mr. Roth.”

Alex looked down at Carey’s coffin, and gently laid his hand on it. “Until we meet again, Carey.”

Theresa placed a hand beside his. “Until we meet again.”

Claygon and Selina rested their hands on either side of Alex’s and Theresa’s. “Until we meet again.”

With those final words, they went to the side of the temple, taking seats on a bench near the front of the room. The golem stood beside them, hands clasped solemnly behind his back in the same way that Baelin would have.

Selina nestled into the arm of the bench, reaching up to touch Claygon’s arm. Alex and Theresa leaned into each other.

Everyone was quiet for a time.

Alex felt a lump in his throat.

The hall, the music, the memories…all hammered home the finality of the moment; Carey was dead. She might return to the world one day…in another form.

But, Carey London, the flesh and blood human being, would forevermore be gone.

And every reminder of that truth filled Alex with grief, guilt, and a terrible anger.

He wanted the Mark of the Fool ripped from his shoulder so he could hammer his fist clean through the First Apostle’s filthy face.

“Alex, look,” Theresa suddenly said, surprise and alarm in her voice.

“What? Is it Carey’s paren…oh…” his voice trailed off.

A line of mourners were filing into the temple, one of them had bright red hair, making him stand out from the rest.

It wasn’t Tyris Goldtooh who’d arrived to mourn her friend.

No, it was someone Alex had thought he’d either never see again, or maybe only in passing.

“Derek?” he whispered.

Derek Warren—who had befriended Carey shortly after she’d joined Campus for Uldar—looked surprisingly good. His face looked healthier than the last time Alex had laid eyes on him, though he still had that ‘too-tired’ look of a student who spent much of their time desperately scrambling to keep up with their studies.

He glanced around, looking nervous—awkward, like he didn’t belong—then said something to a student beside him. The red haired man was with some of Carey’s friends from Campus for Uldar…seeing them left a bitter taste in Alex’s mouth.

When Carey's doubts surfaced and she began questioning her faith in Uldar, those supposed friends quickly distanced themselves from her. She was left alone, with no one to talk to while she went through the greatest spiritual crisis of her life. Now, here they were, ready to weep, mourn, and wring their hands in front of her coffin.

Something about that set Alex’s teeth on edge and he wished he could grab the lot of them, teleport them to Uldar’s sanctum and drop them inches from his throne. If seeing his corpse didn’t shake them, nothing would.

He smiled, and without a word, began turning toward the front of the temple when Derek caught his eye.

The Rhinean noble winced, but began walking to the front of the temple alongside his companions.

When he reached Alex’s row, he stopped, looking like he wanted to crawl out of his skin.

“Roth…” he said quietly.

Alex looked at him evenly. “Derek.”

“Uhm…was she…was Carey happy before the end?” the noble asked. “When I last saw her, she seemed so troubled. Is that…that isn’t the way she died, is it?”

Alex wanted to scream at him; this fair-weather friend who had—for all intents and purposes—abandoned Carey when she needed friends the most.

But, he bit back his anger, stopping himself from making a scene.

He didn’t know how he felt about Derek showing up after Carey was gone, but it wasn’t his memorial service, nor that of any of his family members. If a scene was to be made, it wasn’t up to him to make it.

Still, the malicious part of him was tempted to just lie and feed the guilt that Derek seemed to be struggling with.

But, he knew better than to do something that petty right now.

When he’d first met Derek Warren, he seemed like the perfect villain; a man who had nearly ruined Isolde’s academic life, and was always on the lookout for ways to slip through school with the least amount of effort.

But, after two years of life and death battles, facing demons and losing people to them, cultists, monsters, deadly divine mysteries, and even finding the corpse of his former god…Derek just seemed so insignificant right now.

He knew he would never like the man, but would he lie about Carey just to punish him?

No.

No, he would not.

“She died doing exactly what she wanted to do,” Alex said simply. “She died for Thameland. She died for her friends. She died for her family. And it was by her own choice and will. That’s better than most can say. And I think…she had peace, in the end.”

“I…I see,” Derek said, looking at the floor. “My father and mother would say she died well, then. I—” He paused, biting back his words, probably thinking they’d be better left unsaid. “Nevermind. Take care of yourself, Roth. And thanks for answering me.”

With that, he turned, squared his shoulders and walked toward Carey’s coffin.

Derek and Professor Jules looked at each other for a long moment, then he bowed his head to her.

She nodded.

And he moved on to pay his respects to Carey, seemingly at peace.

As Professor Jules looked away from him, her eyes went to the back of the chamber then widened, her expression abruptly changing, adopting a look of grim resolve.

Alex didn’t have to look behind him to know: Carey’s parents had arrived.

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