Absolution

He caught his footing and turned forward again, stopping in his tracks. The dark caves had disappeared, replaced with a brightly lit diner.

It was completely empty except for an older, matronly woman standing behind the counter. “Well, hello, and welcome,” she said, giving him a look up and down. “Radarack, isn’t it?”

Radarack walked forward, the soles of his boots squeaking against the freshly cleaned linoleum. “And who are you?”

The woman smiled, leaning against the counter. It was a gentle smile, but her words were far from peaceful. “My name doesn’t matter, Sampyon. I’m just glad I get to say what I need to your face, and not to your grave.”

A bell rang as someone else stepped into the diner. It was the little Tinker, with her robot held in her hands. “I didn’t expect this,” she said, looking around the room. She gave a smile to the woman behind the counter. “Hello!”

“Hello, Theresa,” the woman replied, motioning to one of the stools at the bar. “Care to sit? This won’t take long.”

“I know you,” Radarack said, taking a step forward, eyes narrowing. “Your name. It is Margarhet.”

“Marge, now,” the woman said. “All things shrink with age, and my name is no exception.”

“You know each other?” Tinker asked, setting her robot on the counter and leaning on an elbow, looking between them.

“You should be dead,” Radarack said, ignoring the question. “All of Beirshaire know of your assault and defeat at my people’s hand. And we also know that even your own followers betrayed you. Left you to die, for the creatures and carrion. All that thousands of years before I was even born!”

“Hundreds,” Marge said with a laugh. “I’m old, but please, Sampyon.”

The door echoed again, and two more people walked in. He knew their faces. They had brought Radarack away from the Tinker’s house.  To another caverns. In another continent.

Both gave him cold expressions, but nodded at Marge, then took a seat in one of the booths along the wall.

Marge shook her head, looking around the room. “Yes. I was defeated. I was young, rash. Fought with anger and not with peace.” Her voice turned cold, smile long gone, and the room darkened with it. “But believe me, Sampyon. It would have been better for you if your country had perished by my hand. Beirshaire breeds only the corrupt and unjust.

“Was I wrong in my crusade?” she asked. “Was I villain of the story? Perhaps. But in the annals of history, I will always be seen as the lesser of two evils.”

Radarack opened his mouth, but Marge cut him off with a nod toward the door. “Your time’s up, Sampyon. You’ve fought justice. You’ve tried to outrun it. But no matter how far you run, it will always catch up.”

The bell rang again, and two men entered. The first was a fire elemental, carrying a long-barreled gun. The second had dark hair and complexion, with a living tattoo of a dragon circling his right forearm and an odd octopus creature on his left shoulder. Both walked wordlessly past Radarack. The tattooist took a seat next to the Tinker, putting the octopus on the counter by the robot. The elemental took a post beside the counter.

“Marge,” he said, quietly.

“Travis,” she said, giving him a small smile. “It looks like the whole gang is here, aren’t they?”

“Not everyone,” Travis said, shaking his head. “But he asked to stay outside.”

With sinking dread, Radarack turned around to find a familiar shadow darkening the glass door.

“It looks like Elliot is waiting,” Marge said from behind him. “And he’s never been a particularly patient man.”

Radarack Berhungdar, Sampyon of Beirshaire, turned to look at each person who had brought about his end.

The Tinker and the Tattooist. The Agent of Chesterfield’s Agency. The ones who had trusted him.

All people who had, in one way or another, helped him. The ones who believed in him.  

All of them, he had betrayed without remorse.

“Curse you all,” he said, then turned again toward the door. Forcing himself to stand straight, he walked forward to meet his fate.

~~

The pirates had settled, coming together to vote on how they would proceed. The effects of the Anti-Magic were temporary, it was discovered. They would need something permanent in order to return to normal life. Not that there was much left in the normal world for them, a fact they were suddenly grappling with as a stark reality.

“There are havens for people such as you,” Travis had assured them. “But it will mean you’ll need to give up pirating for the rest of your lives.”

“We were only pirates in title,” Captain Henrickson said. “We did very little pirating.”

“Comparatively,” said another, “Considering how long we’ve been on the seas.”

It was Tinker and T who finally cracked the code. “The key is anti-magic,” Tinker explained, “Which we already knew. We just need a way to infuse it into them.”

“Like Radarack wanted to do with the Fountain of Youth,” T said. “But in reverse.”

They were sitting at a booth in the Miracle Mile, sharing a massive appetizer platter between six of them. Stef and Izza sat across from them, while Jacob Abridd and Travis sat at the ends. Guilderbrand was out, scouring the caverns for some unknown reason.

“So…” Stef said, “You’re just going to take a bit of his blood? Tattoo it into them and that’s that?”

“No,” T said, confusion on his face. “Anti-magic doesn’t work that way.”

“But that’s how living ink tattoos work, I thought,” Stef said.

“The power source isn’t physical, is it?” Izza asked quietly. Stef threw her a glance, but trusted her enough not to debate.

“Right!” Tinker crowed. “The water in the Fount is, itself, the magic. But! Guilderbrand doesn’t go around spitting on people to make their magic stop working. Though that would be more inherently humorous than his current way of turning off magic.”

“Okay,” Stef said. “So how does it work?”

“His anti-magic? We have no idea,” T said. “But we’re creating a tattoo design that should act like a sort of battery for the anti-magic charge. Then, I think Guilderbrand should be able to charge it up. I don’t know how long it’ll last, but hopefully as long as it holds charge, we can just have him come through and recharge it every so often.”

“And it won’t make them immortal, but, you know, not ghostly apparitions of their former selves?” Travis asked.

“We’ve been doing tests,” Tinker said, nodding at Izza. “The reason they’re ‘immortal’ is because they’re stuck between here and wherever the Fount is from.”

“Come again?” Travis asked.

“The Fountain, in small doses, is just water,” Izza said, taking Stef’s cup from him and picking up a French fry. “Dip a person in, and they’ll come out okay,” she said, demonstrating with the fry, “Just like T did.”

“But it calls to you, like a siren,” T said. He lifted his arm, where Bartimaeus the dragon was starting to settle back into his skin. “Bartimaues was able to soak up the energy before it caught ahold of my mind. That energy did something to the ink, and well, you saw the effects of that. But if I didn’t have that protection, I would’ve been sucked in.”

Izza was holding the fry in the water, ignoring Stef’s protests. “The water starts pulling you apart,” she said, “Makes you a part of it.” She lifted the soggy fry out, waving it in the air. “This is like our pirate friends. Not fully dissolved, but not quite all there anymore.”

“And Guilderbrand is like this napkin?” Travis asked, trying to dry the fry and only breaking off the saturated portion. “Oops.”

“Kind of,” Tinker said. “But you know, in this case, the napkin actually works. And it’s not permanent. The effect is so engrained in the genetics of the pirates at this point, it’s like they have the water in their soul.”

“I’m still confused why it caused them all to glow and call it a half-life?” Travis said.

“Because they’re not supposed to be part of magic water,” Tinker said, like that was the end of it. “You’re 80% normal water, not magic. That much magic water, your brain is loopy, and your body is loopier. Your body doesn’t know if it’s here, or if it’s supposed to be part of that water, or what. You’re stuck, trapped in the way you went into the water, but not really, and there’s just something that feels wrong.” She shrugged at Travis’ confusion. “I thought that made sense.”

“Right,” Travis said, then nodded his head and gave them a plaster smile. “Well. I trust you that it works. And I’m glad that’s a happy ending!”

“They don’t deserve it,” the final member of their table said. Everyone turned to Jacob, who looked up with angry eyes, darkening like a storm. “Do you even know what they did to me? On the way here?”

“You were their map,” T said.

“Maps are maintained and respected,” Jacob said. “I was trapped in a room, alone. If I came out, I would have to stand blindfolded and shirtless. No dignity, no respect and certainly no care from those creatures that call themselves humans.” He shook his head, lifting up his lip in distaste. “They don’t deserve to be saved. They don’t deserve a happy ending.”

Travis opened his mouth, but like all of them, was at a loss for what to say.

It was Tinker who finally spoke up. “Maybe they don’t. But I hope someday, if I make a terrible mistake, I can get something I don’t deserve, either.”

~~

They had been on the Wandering Isle for almost a week. They moved Jacob back to the cruise ship they had come in on, where the crew and staff took care of him and gave him a semblance of civilization. Meanwhile, the rest of them worked tirelessly to develop the proper tattoo design. With T’s tattoo expertise, Guilderbrand’s input and Stef and Izza’s historical knowledge, they finally finished it – a looping pattern reminiscent of a null symbol.

“I think that should do it,” T said, giving an apologetic expression to the pirates who had received earlier iterations of the tattoo without success. All of them had seemed close, but none of them held the charge necessary. This one, however, had been holding a charge for over an hour.

“All the tests are saying that, for all intents and purposes, they’re normal,” Izza said, looking at the readings on a tablet. “There’s no magical connection with the Fountain.”

There was a cheer from everyone gathered. It had been a long battle, and victory felt greater than they had imagined.

~~

Travis found Guilderbrand deep in the caverns, scratching something into the wall with a piece of rock. It was a big room, with benches dug into the walls, and the remnants of metal plates in the walls.

The ground in the center of the room had been dug up in a wide rectangle. Whatever implement Guilderbrand had used was nowhere to be seen.

“You come here a lot?” Travis asked, sitting on the bench on the far side of the road.

Guilderbrand said nothing as he finished the word he was working on. Then he turned, looking at Travis with those deep, serious eyes. “I’ve seen a lot in my life, Travis. But these halls?” he looked around. “These haunt me.”

“Why?” Travis asked. “Surely you’ve seen worse.”

A sigh was pulled from deep within Guilderbrand’s chest as he sat down, leaning forward. “There are moments in history that should make us stop and think,” he said. “These halls are from one of those. This room was a holding cell for slaves.”

“That’s nothing new,” Travis said. “Why does it bother you so much?”

“When confronted with the darkness of our past, we have two appropriate responses,” Guilderbrand said. “We can tear it down. Ignore it.” He shrugged. “The psychologists might say it’s not healthy, but what do they know?”

“And the other?” Travis asked, figuring it was best not to push on the last comment.

“We can look at it to remember how far we’ve come,” Guilderbrand said, softly. “An icon of a broken past, to remember where we should not go.” He looked up. “Radarack’s ancestors ran this place. This should have been a place of darkness for him. A memento to the dark past of Beirshaire.”

Travis cocked his head, wondering where this was going.

“But he didn’t respond in either way,” Guilderbrand said. “He didn’t ignore it, but he didn’t reject it. He looked at it as the way the world should be. He saw nothing wrong. He wanted it back.”

Guilderbrand shook his head, pushing himself up to his feet and reading what he had scratched into the stone. “A person like that, willing to see the darkness in their past and want it back? It haunts me.”

He looked back at Travis. “And the most haunting thing? I can see it reflected in myself.”

Then he turned back to his writing, and Travis knew it was time to leave Guilderbrand with his thoughts.

~~

They gathered on the beach one final time. The pirates – or sailors, as they had decided to call them again – were preparing to leave for one of the safe havens. They had the possibility of lives again, full and rich.

It was up to Guilderbrand to send them on their way. He stood in front of the gathered crowd, a mix of former pirates, the group from the Agency, the remnants of the cruise ship crew and a slightly confused dwarf rock band.

“Today,” Guilderbrand started, holding the word, along with their attention, as he scanned the faces of crew of the Elmwood, “You stand free. You are free from a curse that has hung over you for longer than you might remember. You are free to find a life, a love and a home.

“But more than that, you stand absolved. You may remember the days of letters of marque. But believe me when I say my promise to you is stronger than any pardon you might have received from a king or captain. No, today, you have my word, and the word of the Agency, that all crimes you have perpetrated, purposeful and inadvertent, are no longer held against you.

“Today, you are free to leave, without the fear of what might be coming behind you. So take that freedom. Take it with both hands and do something remarkable with it.”

They were short words, but they were powerful words. The Elmwood’s crew cheered, then set about making ready to sail.

Likewise, the team from the Agency prepared their ship, eager and anxious to return to their homes. As they were preparing to board, Tinker realized Guilderbrand had made no motion to join them.

“You’re not coming?” she asked.

He shook his head.

“What should I tell Chesterfield?” Travis asked. A hint of a sad, but knowing smile played on his lips. He had seen the decision coming. What he hadn’t foreseen was how much he would miss the older man.

“Tell him the truth,” Guilderbrand said. “He doesn’t need the Anti-Magic. He never did.” He laughed, a hint of bitterness tinting the noise. “The Agency he’s built? It’s not from fear. It’s from respect. From seeing the best in the world, and making the most of the worst.” He nodded as he smiled, almost proudly. “He never needed the Anti-Magic. I was the one that did.”

“What will you do?” Stef asked. “Where will you go?”

“I don’t know yet,” Guilderbrand said. “But I’ve fought a long time, Stefan. It might be time to take a seat and rest. Maybe this time the war is over.”

Travis laughed. “There’ll always be another war, Guilderbrand. You know that.” He softened, as if seeing Guilderbrand for the first time in full. “But that doesn’t mean we all need to be soldiers.”

Guilderbrand smiled at the comment, then took a step back, away from them all.

A Tinker and Tat. A Chameleon who could never fit in. A pair who found Jeopardy the safest place of all.

He felt a sense rising up in him. A premonition, perhaps.

“Your stories aren’t done,” Guilderbrand said, looking at each of them in turn. “Keep each other close. And if you need me, I won’t be far.”

They came up to him. Some gave him hugs, other handshakes. But each looked him in in the eye and knew. He was proud of them.

And more than that, he was going to miss them, too.

“We’ll keep the fight,” Travis, the last in line, said. “But stay in touch from that Bermuda beach, will you?”

After their ship had disappeared into the ocean, Guilderbrand returned to the caves. He walked, lost in his thoughts, until he came to the cavern Travis had found him in earlier that week. The newest inscription, carved by his own hands, caught his attention.

Justice has been kept. The Ocean has been remembered.

It was an evil memory, this place. But it was one that Guilderbrand could walk away from. Justice had made its full circle, and now was at rest.

He made his way from the cave to the one where the Fount was kept. Then, after taking off his jacket, he waded into the cool depths.

The water was enticing. T had explained what he had felt, but Guilderbrand hadn’t expected it to be so strong. Still, it was not enough to overwhelm his very nature.  

A thrill of heat passed through his body, warming the water. The chill of its promise faded as the Anti-Magic vaporized the strange connection it had. By the time he was finished, the Fount was just a pool of water.

He hauled himself from the pool, and, still soaking, walked to the entrance to the Miracle Mile. As he entered, he found himself in a bustling evening rush.

Marge saw him as soon as he entered, and clucked her tongue. “Elliot. Dripping all over the floor?”

“Sorry, Marge,” he apologized, coming to sit in front of her at the counter. “I had to take care of some things.”

“There’s always something you need to take care of,” she said with a smile. “You just sit tight. I’ll bring you something warm in a second.”

When she returned, she placed a bowl of soup in front of him, then folded her arms. “So. You didn’t go with them?”

“No,” Guilderbrand said, looking up. “Chesterfield doesn’t need me in the Agency. It’s time for them to learn to fly on their own.”

“And you?” Marge said. “Finally done running?”

Guilderbrand faltered. “Rest would be good,” he said, unconvincingly. He had never been able to lie to Marge.

Marge gave him a knowing look. “You can’t right your wrongs by fighting more wrongs, Elliot. Forgive yourself first. Then you’ll know what to fight for.”

Guilderbrand gave her a smile, tired, but knowing the truth. It was time to be honest. “I’ve looked at the darkness in my past, Marge. And I’m not going back there. I wish I could erase it, or absolve it, but maybe the best I can do is decide never to return. I’ve let my mistakes go. I’ve even let my consciously unwise decisions go. But it’s like you said. There’s always something for me to take care of.”

He let out a sigh, looking around the room at those gathered. Everyone could feel it – this was a place of peace and tranquility. “These are the places I fight for, Marge. You help heal people. I give them the chance to be healed.”

Maybe he could stay. Maybe it was his turn to rest and find healing.

Guilderbrand looked back up at Marge, then stood, pulling a pair of sunglasses out of his jacket’s pocket. He put them on, picking up the bowl of soup with his free hand.

“Off already?” Marge asked. “I want that bowl back.”

“You know me, Marge,” Elliot Guilderbrand said over his shoulder. “I’d love to take a seat and be done with the world.” He paused, hand on the door, and they exchanged an expression of understanding. They knew firsthand what the other was thinking.   

Travis had been partially right. There would always be another war.

And Elliot Guilderbrand would always fight in it.