by CJ Brightley
Ardhuin was alive but in danger. Dominic saw the explosive magical force building around Denais and shouted a warning. Her head snapped up, stormy eyes wide. Power was building around her, too, but he couldn’t tell what kind, and then the stairs disappeared in a thunderclap, and Ardhuin with them.
Dominic stared at the cloud of dust, his blood turned to ice. She wasn’t…she couldn’t be. Denais turned calmly away and walked towards the archway. The vial was in one hand now, and a syringe in the other. He looked about as if to see where the warning shout had come from, but he did not seem that concerned about it. Ardhuin had been his greatest worry, and she had been dealt with. Dominic wanted to scream.
The cloud of dust was thinning. There was magic in the dust. A bright core moved upward. With a desperate strength he didn’t know he had, Dominic put his shoulder to the sideboard and shoved it into Denais as he went through the archway.
The vial fell from his hand. Dominic dove for it and rolled away, expecting any minute to feel a bolt of magic. He scrambled to his feet. Denais stared at Dominic as he stood on the landing, then past him with a stunned expression.
Ardhuin levitated where the missing staircase should have been. Her dark coat was ragged and torn, and her bright red hair streamed about her like the rays of the sun. She looked like a vengeful fire goddess.
“You!” Denais said. “You are the mage!”
“I am,” Ardhuin replied, biting each word off. She dropped lightly down on the landing.
The two mages wasted no more words on each other. Denais was pale and furious, perhaps just now realizing the danger he was in. Ardhuin looked tired but equally angry.
Power built around Denais, and Dominic recognized the magic from Ardhuin's training back in the palace workroom. “Gesalt’s Lance!” he shouted, and Ardhuin parried the attack with a small defensive shield.
Denais narrowed his eyes, glancing at Dominic. Ardhuin stepped between them so her shielding covered him as well.
For every attack Denais came up with, Dominic either named it or gave the closest one he knew. Ardhuin grew even more tired, but she was doing better than Denais. She only had to deflect, and with Dominic’s help she wasted none of her power.
He could see when Denais knew he was defeated. The look in his eyes, followed by a desperate shadow spell when he ran. Dominic pointed, and Ardhuin cast her spell.
It was one Dominic had never seen before. It looked thick, like syrup. Ardhuin sagged, and he hastened to support her. The spell clearly was draining her last reserves.
Denais had not given up entirely. Ardhuin’s spell surrounded him, but he continued to fight, creating his own similar spell, which insulated him and prevented her magic from touching him. He was sweating, and his expression was one of terror.
Ardhuin’s spell slowly crept closer. A thud on the floor beside him made Dominic start and glance aside to see a fireman’s ladder with hooks grabbing the edge of the landing, and then a dark scramble of Preusan magicians. The first one was Markus, followed by others in Kriegszauberkollegium uniforms. Markus alertly put up a shield, but did nothing else.
Dominic caught the glow of magic from the corner of his eye, but not in time to stop it. One of the other magicians loosed a powerful bolt, intending to help, but when it struck the combined magic around Denais, all the magic exploded in a blinding flash that made Dominic cry out.
He could not see. Frightening, groaning noises came from the walls, and the floor shook beneath his feet. Plaster dust rained from the ceiling.
“He’s getting away! Frieder, get your men to circle back,” called Markus. “We’d better get out. He must have triggered a destructive spell.”
“There’s a man behind the settee, tied up—and the statue in the conservatory is a transformed woman,” Dominic said quickly. His vision was slowly returning. “We have to get them!”
The roof fell into the foyer with a thunderous roar of wood and brick. Debris pelted them.
“Well, we can’t go that way,” Markus panted. “What now?”
“Get to the conservatory!” Ardhuin said, coughing in the dust. Large chunks of plaster were falling, and the floor was tilting.
Dominic ran to where Henri lay and half-carried, half-dragged him to the conservatory. He had a hard time keeping on his feet as the floor bucked and sagged. He dumped Henri at the foot of the statue. Ardhuin put her back against it and held him, and he clutched her tightly. He had just enough time to see the bubble of shielding begin to take form around them as the house finally collapsed.
16
With complete lack of consideration, the weather had turned to snow. It was only a light dusting, fortunately. Ardhuin only really became aware of it when she saw the flakes collect in the folds of a dead Kriegsa magician’s uniform. His face was deeply seamed and ridged, the signs of Devourer Gate. She had warned them, hadn’t she?
Everything blurred together. She couldn’t remember if she had searched this section of the house before, or if one pile of rubble simply looked very much like another. At least she was no longer finding bodies, which was a blessing. At the thought, she glanced around for Dominic, drawing in her breath sharply when she didn’t see him.
Markus, seeing her anxious face, guessed the reason for her concern. “I was finally able to convince him to allow the doctor to see to his hands,” he said with a wry grin. Pain made a sharp furrow between his dark brows, but he had retained his sense of humor even with a broken arm and other, less severe, injuries. He also sported a flash of white in his black hair, residue of a dangerous spell. “Of course, I had to promise to keep an eye on you to accomplish this. I expect to be thanked profusely.”
“I do thank you. I was afraid he would fall over in a dead faint. He is so stubborn!”
Markus cocked an eyebrow at her. “That must be why you have such a fondness for him. Being so sweetly reasonable yourself,” he added hastily, holding up the hand that wasn’t in a sling. “Now, are you going to follow his excellent example and come away? We can find no trace of this Denais fellow anywhere. He must have escaped.”
Ardhuin took stock, and for the first time realized she was so tired she could barely move. Her coat was ripped and tattered, making any warmth purely accidental, and her hair had completely escaped all hairpins and was streaming down her shoulders in bright red waves. There was no sign of her hat. She must look like a madwoman.
A line of coaches waited along the street. One of them had to contain Dominic. She started towards them, shivering. She stopped short at what looked at first like a pile of overcoats, until she saw the stone face of the transformed woman. Some chivalrous soldiers had covered her undraped form. It was fortunate she could not feel the cold in her current state.
When Ardhuin did find Dominic, she was too tired to step up into the carriage. To her embarrassment, two soldiers had to lift her up. Dominic was slumped in a corner, wrapped in a horse blanket embroidered with the royal crest, his bandaged arms held out awkwardly before him. When he heard her, his eyes flew open. She was shocked at how pale and drawn his face was.
“Are you in much pain?” Ardhuin asked, sitting next to him.
“Dr. Wustel gave me some tincture of morphia,” Dominic said, his words slurring a little. “The pain is nothing now.” He shifted one hand and winced. “Well, not as bad. Have they taken Henri away?”
“The old man? I believe he was with the first group of wounded.”
There was something in Dominic’s voice, something she could not name. They had not had an opportunity to talk until now, but she had thought from the instant feeling of connection that any remaining awkwardness between them was gone. Now she was not so sure.
“Is something wrong?”
Before he could answer, the door to the carriage opened. Gutrune von Kitren, covered in plaster dust and cinders but otherwise completely unchanged, looked in. “We will be leaving soon. A few minutes at most.”
Ardhuin just nodded, and Gutrune left.
“I
should have known you would find me,” Dominic whispered. “He was only injured because I tried to escape.” He had closed his eyes again.
“Who?”
“Henri. The old man. Because of the geas…I knocked him unconscious so he could not call for help. I must have hit him too hard—but what else could I do?”
Without conscious thought, Ardhuin reached for his hand. That part of his fingers left unbandaged gripped hers tightly.
“You were right to try to escape however you could. You could not be sure when I would find you, and I almost didn’t. We were on the point of leaving the city when I checked one more time.” Her voice faltered, thinking how close she had come to missing him.
He stared at her, agonized. “But now he won’t wake up! I meant to save him, not kill him!”
“Sometimes all you have are bad choices,” Ardhuin said slowly, understanding at last. “You have to choose anyway, and hope for the best. Fix it if you can afterward. The woman turned into a statue is his wife, you said, correct?”
Dominic nodded.
“Would he have been willing to die to restore her?”
An arrested look came into his eyes. “Yes. He would have done anything to save her. You are right. I saw him try to fight the geas, and…and I understood. I would have done the same for you.”
Ardhuin felt tears spring to her eyes. “Even though I once put a geas on you? Can you understand why I felt I had to do it…and forgive me?”
Dominic nodded slowly, his face working. He raised his bandage-covered arms towards her, made a sound of mixed pain and frustration, and lowered them. Ardhuin shifted in her seat and wrapped her arms around him, horse-blanket and all, and cradled his head against her shoulder, stroking his hair. She felt more than heard his sigh, and a slight tug on her hair as his fingers found it and held on.
When Gutrune returned, Ardhuin felt him start to try to sit up but she did not let go, and he subsided. With one look at them both, Gutrune took her seat opposite, and as the carriage started to move, considerately pulled down the window blinds.
Six men already stood around the statue of the transformed woman when Ardhuin entered the room. She had been expecting Magus von Westerhof and his colleagues, since they had taken part in the discussions of how best to attempt the restoration, but von Koller, glowering in the corner, was a complete and unwelcome surprise. Ardhuin glanced away, and also saw the little thaumatic physician who had examined her after the fight with von Gerling.
He bowed, seeing her surprise. “I have some knowledge on the medical effects of spells and their treatment,” he said in a soft, accented voice. “I trust my presence will not intrude?”
She shook her head and moved to the rough wooden table, covered with odd-sized cushions to support the awkward shape of the statue in something like a level position. Looking at the stone woman, she felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. Under her great-uncle’s supervision, she had once transformed a rabbit to stone and back again, but a full-grown woman was another matter.
“Are we ready to begin?” Ardhuin asked.
“You could have begun an hour ago,” growled von Koller. “We have been waiting for you.”
And what possible concern could it be of his? “I was speaking with her husband to see if he knew anything we should be aware of, and to let him know we were about to begin,” she replied, striving to keep her tone even. In a softer voice, she asked von Westerhof, “Why is he here? Did we not agree that extraneous people would only be a distraction?” That was what they had said about Dominic, and since there was nothing more he could tell them about the magic of the statue, she had agreed. It still would have been reassuring to have him there—and now she had von Koller breathing fire instead.
Von Westerhof shrugged, with an understanding twinkle in his eye. “He came to hear of what we were attempting, and insisted on being allowed to observe. How are we to deny the head of the Kriegsa, hmm? This is a rare event.”
Ardhuin gave up and resolved to ignore von Koller as much as possible. She held out her arms for one last inspection. No metal, not even so much as a button. Her hair was in a braid tied by a ribbon, and her feet in slippers more suitable for home. The gentlemen were likewise in simple clothing and had left all metal belongings outside. The doctor—she peered more closely and smiled. His spectacles had wooden frames. Clearly he had done this sort of thing before.
With silent agreement they took their pre-arranged places. Ardhuin stood at the head, leaning over to reach towards the woman’s feet. She held her position and nodded to the magician facing her. He took a deep breath and lifted his hands to touch the statue’s soles.
As soon as Ardhuin saw the flush of pink on the feet, she started her own magic—a variation of vital stasis. It had to match exactly with the progress of the transformation—if it covered the stone portion, the transformation spell would not work; if it delayed too long, any severe damage would be fatal to the living woman. No one knew how well Denais had performed the transformation.
“There is bleeding!” gasped the magician, sweat beading on his face.
The little doctor stepped forward. “It is only surface damage, most likely done when the statue was moved. Do not delay! You have little time to restore her circulation entirely.”
That was why they had begun from the feet and moved up. It took time, and even vital stasis could not help if half her body was stone. Ardhuin kept her hands steady even as her eyes stung. She dared not look away for an instant.
There were bloody scrapes on the woman’s knees, too. Blood welled the instant the transformation crossed over them, and then slowed and stilled as Ardhuin’s magic held it back. It was agonizing. She’d never done such a powerful spell so slowly, with such control. It seemed like time had stopped.
The first mage was looking ragged and spent—fortunately, he had nearly reached the point where the next two would take over, continuing their progress up the body. The little doctor watched alertly, and Ardhuin noticed he held bandages in readiness.
They were almost there…the end was the hardest. All four mages crowded together to transform the heart, lungs, and brain in one final, massive effort. Ardhuin forced herself to wait, to let the scream that had been frozen all this time escape and a new breath be taken before finishing the vital stasis.
She had to grip the edge of the table to support herself, and the other mages were likewise affected. The first mage was still gasping with effort.
“Doctor?” Ardhuin wheezed. “Quickly, please….”
The little doctor rapidly glanced over the transformed woman. “Yes. The immediate prognosis appears good—that is, she is injured but we can therefore see her circulation is intact. Beyond that,” he made a fatalistic gesture, “we must watch, and wait. Man proposes, but God disposes. We have done what we can.”
“And I venture to say we have done quite well, do you not agree, gentlemen?” said a beaming Magus von Westerhof.
Ardhuin looked at him, surprised and a little hurt. They would not have been able to do the gradual transformation without her, but that appeared to be completely forgotten. Von Westerhof sent a servant off on some errand, and the other mages came up to her and shook her hand, one by one, pouring a torrent of Preusan she did not understand, but it seemed to be congratulatory.
Then von Koller came up, clicked his heels, and gave her a barely perceptible nod of the head. She could not have been more astonished if he had tried to kiss her. What was going on?
“Ah, there you are, Otto! Bring it here. Gentlemen, if you would….” Von Westerhof held out a pen and indicated a sheet of paper, already closely written in thick Preusan script. Von Koller signed, turned on his heel, and left the room. The others took their turns signing, and then felt the need to shake Ardhuin’s hand all over again.
“Herr Magus…what is this all about?” Ardhuin finally managed to say.
“Ah yes. It is somewhat unconventional, I agree,” von Westerhof said, signing the document with a flourish.
“We haven’t issued a degree by trial in over a century, but it used to be more common. More wars then,” he added, handing the quill to the servant, who then dusted the paper with sand to dry the ink. “However, we decided it would be more discreet to attend to matters this way than making you sit for exams. Students would be bound to talk, you know.”
“Degree? You mean…an ars magica degree?”
He gave her a grave look. “It is highly improper for a Mage Guardian—possibly the only Mage Guardian—to lack the correct credentials to practice magic. Perhaps you have noticed that we in Preusa are very fond of credentials. You should show respect for regulations and order, my dear. Now, this was merely the practical requirement. There will also be an investiture ceremony at the university tomorrow. We are fond of ceremonies, too,” he said, his face still grave but with a twinkle.
“I would like to offer my congratulations, and also on behalf of the sofon of Baerlen,” said the little doctor, bowing deeply. “The sofon took the liberty of suggesting to the King that this would be a right and proper recognition of what you have done for all of us.”
“Yes…indeed! I…thank you, very much,” Ardhuin said, feeling dizzy. Now she wouldn’t have to worry about breaking the law every time she set up a ward back home. She could do magic in public, with people watching if she wanted to!
The little doctor glanced back at the table where the transformed woman lay, now covered more modestly with a sheet. “I will remain until the regular physicians arrive. From my observation, her injuries are not life-threatening.”
“I will inform her husband,” Ardhuin said, and escaped the room before more surprises showed up.
“Are you sure you should be up and about?” Dominic asked. “You must consider your own health is not robust at present, and I would not want you at risk of a relapse. How are you feeling now?”
Henri sat up straighter in his chair. “Much better, sir, thank you. May I say it is a relief to be able to speak freely once again. When you were being held captive….” His hands trembled.