Twenty
• • •
Edith was so consumed by fear, pain, and the urgent need to draw breath that she'd blacked out.
The last thing she clearly recalled was panicking over choking on her own blood. But when she next opened her eyes, Ulric and Charlotte stood above her in the living room of their Nalonian abode with worried expressions.
“Edith, are you alright?”
The coppery taste of blood was heavy in her mouth, and she rolled over to spit the remaining contents out. Charlotte took to patting her back while she sputtered, hacking until she could breathe clearly again.
In between coughs, she managed to nod that she was fine, guessing Isaac had teleported her to Charlotte for a healing—just as Ulric mentioned from across the way, “I've never seen Isaac this bad before, sweetness. Can you do anything for him?”
“I can try, but healing Edith drained a lot of my energy.”
Hearing this, Edith quickly looked back, and as soon as she saw the reason for her friend's uncertainty, her heart dropped into the pit of her stomach.
“Isaac!”
His body was a mass of blackened, charred flesh, and what wasn't burned away was heavily blistered. It was obviously the result of his mute, but he'd ignored it, putting his life on the line to save hers.
Tears brimmed in her eyes as Charlotte leaned down to do what she could, but it wasn't enough. Most of his flesh was still badly burned after her best effort, and he remained unconscious.
“His mute is getting in the way of healing,” Charlotte muttered in frustration. “But he regenerates quickly, so … ”
She trailed off hopefully, but Edith was too consumed by despair to notice. Damn it, Isaac, you'd better recover!
Whatever the true danger to his life was, she vowed to take care of him. So when Ulric announced his intentions to haul Isaac upstairs, she qualified, “I'll teleport him to my room.”
The draconian looked hesitant, but then nodded, and she wasted no time. Only a moment later, she had Isaac on the bed in the upstairs guestroom where she'd been sleeping since coming to Nalona, and Edith crawled off the mattress to stand over him.
Healing was a class of magic all its own, one of the few that required the study of biological morphology and a rather precise anatomical knowledge to successfully excel in. Edith had some knowledge, though certainly not enough to qualify as a healer, nor for the spells to come easily.
But damn it all, how much different from enchanting could it be? She'd take every care, and didn't give a damn how much magic she used in the process.
So, raising her hands over his body to try, she whispered, “Please hang on for me, Isaac.”
Magical light encompassed her palms, and Edith focused that energy on what she wanted, envisioning the end result. Power seeped from her fingers, her concentration directed solely on Isaac's welfare, mending his injuries as best she was able—and she could actually feel the resistance of his mute like a speed bump on the road, forcing her to slow down, then exert more power to overcome it.
And the endeavor weakened her significantly.
For the first time since her Calling began, Edith started to sense her energy dwindling. In fact, she knew that if Isaac hadn't saved her so much magic in the beginning, she might've just extinguished what was left completely.
Not that she wasn't proud of her handiwork, finally lowering her hands and opening her eyes to survey his condition. Not bad for an enchantress contending with a mute. He still possessed several burns and blisters, but she'd definitely sped up the process of regeneration—and in her eyes, Isaac was worth the magic expenditure whether he agreed or not.
“You do realize he'll recover on his own, don't you?” Chandra's stoic voice pointed out. “It would've taken a few days in his state, but his body wasn't too wasted away to prevent it.”
Startled, Edith quickly spun around to face her instructor as she approached the bed. Once standing next to the mattress, the sorceress concluded, “You must truly care for him to make an attempt at healing knowing how much magic that would cost someone of your class.”
“Yeah, but he did this to himself saving my life, so I had to help, even if I only shaved time off the inevitable.” Following her explanation, she asked, “When did you get here, anyway?”
“You were too preoccupied to notice, but I was downstairs when you arrived. Ulric was demanding my assistance in locating you.”
“He was?”
A nod. “He'd spent much of the day tracking you with the Skyriders, but was unsuccessful, so he turned to me. I was attempting to explain my inability to help you when Isaac appeared—surprisingly. I didn't know he'd left Terra.”
“Neither did I,” Edith admitted. “But he said he'd destroyed his summoning crystal, he just didn't explain how before I was shot.”
As if she'd said something revealing, Chandra lifted her head in a knowing fashion. But she didn't elaborate on whatever knowledge she possessed, and merely stated, “I see. Then all that's left between him and possessing total freedom of mobility is the mute.”
Walking around to the opposite side of the bed so she could sit next to Isaac, Edith inquired, “What do you know about his mute, anyway?”
“I know it's a permanent brand which won't heal without destroying the source of its magic.”
“The source? You mean the actual brand used?”
“Yes, which I'm certain is locked up tight in the Perosian Imperial Palace. But killing the mage who gave it power would also suffice.”
“And do you know who the mage is?”
“Rothario.”
Hearing this, Edith lifted her head in surprise. “What? Rothario's a mage?”
“In a sense,” Chandra shrugged. “He's certainly no Mystikkarian, but he knows enough magic to qualify for the basic description. I'd personally say he's closer to a warlock in actuality, but it's rumored he can change forms and fire projectiles at the very least.”
If so, that meant he'd studied magic, but may not be as well versed as a mage who'd trained in Mystikkar. Or … his talent could be even better. Well shit.
Edith groaned, hoping that wasn't the case. But whatever skill Rothario possessed, if killing him would erase Isaac's mute, it was just another reason to add to the list of Why the fucknut needs to go ASAP.
As she had the thought, Isaac let a groan of pain, and Edith immediately responded by gently grasping his burned hand and asking his name.
No response.
Exhaling low, she was surprised when Chandra suddenly reached over to take her chin and tilt her face upward. Then, after a studious, piercing gaze into her former apprentice's eyes, the sorceress declared, “You're in love with him.”
Tugging her chin away, she grumbled, “I am not.”
“Lie to yourself, Edith. Not to me.”
Edith rolled her eyes. Hate it when she says that. “So what if I am? You'll think I have horrible taste in men.”
“On the contrary, I envy someone who's found a meaningful connection.”
Edith blinked in shock. “Okay, who are you and where's the real Chandra?”
The sorceress smirked, but didn't answer in favor of making another surprising confession. “I may antagonize Isaac, and I'll deny saying this later, but I do respect his resolve. Even muted, his abilities are impressive, and with your talents, it's no wonder Rothario fears. The two of you are formidable.”
Edith tried not to smile, but the corners of her mouth lifted anyway. We're a team. “Don't scoff, but I like working with him. He's … ”
When she trailed, Chandra supplied, “Apparently better to you than he ever was to me. Always hounding me about taking my first apprentice, sometimes going so far as to pull pranks regardless of the retribution I doled out.”
Edith grinned. “I'll make sure he apologizes.”
“If you did that, I would be impressed.” With that said, she announced, “But my time here grows short. There's no need to arouse suspicion of our ties, partic
ularly in Ithelyon where The Crucible holds little sway.”
“What do you mean?”
Stepping away from the bed, Chandra gave a simple explanation that made a lot of sense. “The reason I bound Isaac to Terra from the start is that it's a mortal realm ignorant of the supernatural and under the protection of powerful deities. So Rothario knew better than to poke a hornet's nest by sending more aggressive forces and angering The Crucible.”
“Then there's nothing stopping him from doing that exact thing here,” Edith concluded.
“Precisely.”
“Great,” she muttered, realizing it would be doubly important to maintain a low profile in Ithelyon, and that Chandra was right to keep her visit short.
Still, their conversation reminded Edith of a question she wanted to ask, and she threw it out while she had the chance. “By the way, how did you get mercenaries in and out of the Pit?”
“Getting out was the easier part,” Chandra started. “I gave the mercenaries a Terran Keystone.”
Edith hadn't thought of that possibility, mostly because Keystones were extremely rare. The mystical gems could transport someone to a single realm regardless of the user's whereabouts, and Mystikkar had a few in possession.
So it wouldn't have been tricky for Ulric to escape the Pit once he'd managed to contain Isaac.
“As for getting in,” Chandra enunciated, “I had to open a portal directly there from a secluded location using a spell that took six months to cast.”
That bit of news was more surprising, and not because the spell had taken so long, but because it hadn't taken longer. The Pit wasn't just another realm like Ithelyon or Terra, it was a plane of Perosia, like a building block fully contained within that realm. So reaching it from anywhere other than Perosia would've been difficult.
But after Rothario had poisoned Chandra, it was easy to see why the sorceress would take the time to do it—and Edith was glad. I never would've met Isaac otherwise.
She just wished there wasn't such a long ways to go until her challenges were met.
“I normally wouldn't say so, Edith,” Chandra mentioned during her thoughts, “but I'm getting the sense you're worried about your part in all of this, or dreading a negative outcome.”
Edith pursed her lips. “Not exactly. I just want my Calling to end so I can do whatever the hell it is I'm supposed to do with Rothario, and move on.”
Chandra's gaze was understanding when she mentioned, “Trust me when I say it will end sooner than you think.”
“Oh? How long did your Calling last?”
Already disappearing from sight, the sorceress answered, “Only a month.”
Hearing this, Edith couldn't stop a relieved sigh from escaping her lips. The length of Chandra's Calling wasn't a true indicator, but it served as a reminder that her own could be over in a matter of days.
And after her brush with death that night, she hoped that proved to be the case.
Laying down next to Isaac, she couldn't stop replaying the events of the evening in her mind, and just how swiftly her life could've been snuffed out. All her work gone in the blink of an eye, regardless of temperance or careful planning.
A sobering thought.
It was a poignant reminder of how much danger she was actually in, lending a sense of expedience to the situation—specifically concerning Isaac. As the saying went, life was short, and if she'd died that night, she would've never experienced what it was like to at least try having more with him.
At the thought, her fingers threaded through his to rest against his chest. Edith feared making long term commitments when it was possible she'd be fatally injured again, or never gain her immortality at all.
But her bigger fear was regret, and wouldn't it be foolish to waste the opportunity while she had it?
Besides, when she thought about the way Isaac considered her feelings and fought to ensure her success, even when it meant being separated from her indefinitely, her heart swelled with affection.
And deep down, Edith knew that if Chandra wasn't right about her feelings now, she soon could be.
I could lose my heart to him so easily …
Twenty-One
• • •
Isaac had no idea where he was, nor did he expect to awaken fully healed.
Opening his eyes, he looked around to see a darkened bedroom that resembled those found in expensive Terran homes. The four post bed was large and comfortably soft, and the curtains were drawn to dim the room from the morning sun.
On the table next to the bed was a puzzle box, though Isaac was initially too groggy to realize it was the same one he'd given Edith in Belfast.
Instead, he looked down to see his perfectly healed chest and arms, surprised to learn he'd remained unconscious long enough to regenerate entirely. With as much pain as he was in after teleporting Edith to Charlotte, Isaac knew it'd take at least a few days to recover, briefly wondering if it'd been that long, or if he was given something to try speeding up the process.
But whatever the answers, his attention was drawn away from his questions in noticing a slender set of fingers intertwined with his laying over his chest—Edith's.
Her face was all but buried against his side, covered by her fiery hair. Instead of bloodstained clothing, her baggy shirt and cotton shorts were clean, and her chest was steadily expanding with her breaths.
She was alive and well, and he wouldn't have been able to put his relief into words if he tried.
“Angel?”
Immediately, her head lifted with his name on her lips, and she looked so bleary that he couldn't help but grin.
“Worried?”
“Yes!” she shot back. “Are you okay?”
“I'm fine,” he shrugged. “More concerned about you and wondering where we are.”
“We're at Ulric's family home in Nalona,” she explained, then chastised, “and you saved my life alright, and scared the shit out of me in the process!”
“I had to get you to Charlotte,” he returned unapologetically. “You were choking on your own blood.”
“I know, but … ,” she trailed as if she didn't know what to say, then frowned. “How did you find me last night, anyway?”
Last night? He hadn't been laid up in bed for more than a day, but as far as he could tell, there wasn't a burn left on his body. Ulric must've fetched a pretty skilled healer for him, and Isaac pushed himself up to settle against the pillows before answering her question.
“Do you remember when I told you I knew an Ancient who said Alder was innocent?”
When Edith nodded, Isaac informed her of everything that had happened while she'd been in Ithelyon, including his search for Gyles, his temporary banishment from Terra, and the information Arias had revealed. Edith hung on every word until he summarized his encounter with the Ancient and the reason for his lack of suspicion.
“So Kidd wasn't real, and Arias has been working against Rothario for a long time.”
“Then he's an illusionist?”
Edith sounded skeptical, and Isaac couldn't blame her, replying, “I have no fucking clue, but whatever he is, he's not a typical Perosian like I'd thought. Or maybe he just knows some jacked up magic shit you don't learn in Mystikkar. Do any of the illusionists you know turn themselves into other people?”
“Yes, but … how long did you know Kidd?”
“A few months. Why? You don't sound convinced.”
She sighed. “It's just strange. Illusionists and enchanters can change their appearances, but not for months at a time, not convincingly anyway. Also, not without a lot of power.”
“Jacked up magic,” he reiterated.
“Could be,” Edith conceded. “Did he say exactly how he got your summoning crystal?”
“No, he only told me he has friends in the Imperial Palace, and also mentioned knowing Rothario as someone else.”
Taking that in, she pursed her lips uncertainly. “That's extremely sketchy, Isaac. I don't have to say it, but illusi
onists are deceptive, and what if he's just trying to lure you here because of something like The Crucible not being an issue in Ithelyon?”
“There wouldn't have been a point to that. He knew Ardilon was kicking me out of Terra anyway, and had no reason to give me my summoning crystal unless he wanted to make sure I wasn't summoned. So I don't think we have anything to worry about.”
Edith still seemed doubtful, but she didn't argue the point. Instead, she suggested, “Maybe Arias is actually canvassing for the throne of Perosia.”
Isaac hadn't considered that, but it was a definite possibility. “Could be, and if he wants it, I say let him have it.”
“Okay, but out of curiosity, what about you? Wouldn't it be yours by birthright or something?”
“The hell with that. I'll pass it on just for the summoning crystal. Unless,” he looked Edith over and grinned wickedly. “Would seeing me on a throne get you hot? Cause I gotta admit, I wouldn't mind doing dirty things to an empress on a daily basis.”
Edith rolled her eyes, though she was grinning—and blushing. “The thought of you on a throne is intriguing.”
“Just intriguing?”
She shrugged as if unwilling to feed his ego, then leaned in and hugged him. “It doesn't matter. I'm just glad you're here now.”
“So am I, angel,” Isaac groaned, slipping his arms around her for the first time in two weeks—and it felt like he'd come home.
“Oh my god.”
Her sudden exclamation confused him. “What?”
“You're covered in ash,” she remarked, sitting back to look down at her hands and arms, which were now marred with dark streaks from his charred-and-healed flesh. “Ew, you need a bath.”
Swiping a hand across his arm to find more ash on his palm, Isaac agreed, and nearly asked Edith to join him. But the compulsion to hold back was too strong to ignore. That fucking oath.
“Okay, but first, we need to talk about us,” he started, hoping to convince her to release him from it.
But she quickly shook her head. “Bath first. I'll change the sheets and clean up, and then we'll talk, because you're damned straight, we have some serious issues to discuss.”
The Final Calling Page 19