Frida thought back to the dream she'd had that one night, when she was curled on the floor in their room in Gotahval. “We need to neutralize him,” she said. “We need to figure out some way to keep him from using his magic—from ever using his magic again.”
“We need to kill him?” Daegal asked.
“No,” Frida said, shaking her head. “That's not–” She frowned, thinking it over. It wasn't just that she was reluctant to kill the man, her first love. There was something more… “If we kill him, he can come back,” she said. “And with a soul as twisted as his...”
“How do you plan to neutralize him?” Daegal asked.
“I don't know,” Frida said honestly. “But we're going to have to figure out a way.”
Chapter 19
The caves were practically a city, with people bustling everywhere. Of course, there were none of the usual things that she would associate with a city—there were no markets, no shops, no inns. But there was a little makeshift pub in one of the caverns, and a kitchen that served up meals in another area. Everyone seemed to have a specific task assigned to them, and… Well, Frida was just surprised at how smoothly everything ran.
Calder gave her a wry look, seeing her astonishment. “We've had decades to perfect this,” he reminded her. “This isn't the first time the people of the far north have lived in caves.” He glanced around, looking amused. “Of course, these are a lot warmer than the ice caves. Our furrier needed to find a new profession down here.”
“How long have you been here?” Frida asked, awe in her voice.
“Many of us have come down from the north in the past month, when we heard Brynarr was beginning the skirmishes again. But some of the sorcerers have hidden here amongst the rocks in all the decades since the first war.”
Frida shook her head. “No one had any idea,” she said. “I lived in Daelfjord, and I hardly believed the rumors that there were people in the ice caves of the north.”
“Well, that's just it,” Calder said, shrugging a little. “No one would have believed that we were here, right on Brynarr's doorstep the whole time.” He nudged her in the direction of one of the darker, narrower corridors, which led into a positively administrative-looking cavern.
Daegal stood up as they entered, moving to pull Frida into a hug. “You look a lot better,” he told her.
“Thanks,” Frida said, smiling a little at him. “I feel a lot better too.” She paused. “Calder just gave me a grand tour of the caves. I'm impressed with what they've built here.”
“Me too,” Daegal answered honestly. “Anyway...” He gestured around. “This is my office. Welcome. Now, let's get down to business.”
“Have you found anything promising?” Frida asked, eyeing the stacks of books lining Daegal's desk.
Daegal sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “Not yet,” he admitted. “I've combed through a bunch of our oldest books on magic, and I still can't find any way to block a person's magic. I did find one quasi-true story—almost a myth—about a soul that was trapped deep in the earth for all of eternity, locked inside an unbreakable cage. But the soul eventually escaped, somehow, and anyway, like I said, the account leans a little bit towards the mythical rather than the factual. I think we need a better plan than that if we're going to take on Brynarr.”
“Definitely,” Frida agreed. She shook her head, slumping down into one of the seats. “It just seems like there must be something very obvious that we're missing—but I can't figure out what it might be.”
“I mean, the only thing that seems plausible to me would be if he shredded his soul entirely,” Calder said. “But in order to do that, we'd have to allow him to do more big magic—and if, as you said, he's looking to draw in wraiths from the Otherworld, that could do more harm than good. The last thing we need is some new threat to deal with.”
“And who knows how much more magic it could take before he shreds his soul entirely,” Frida sighed. “There's no exact science to that sort of thing, and we don't even know what state his soul is in at the moment. Of course, he loses a bit more of his soul each time he uses magic, and he's been using magic for decades and decades now. But for all we know, we could be waiting for still more decades. We don't have time for that.” Not that it had looked that way the last time that she had seen him, but again, no one could really tell when that would happen.
Suddenly, she blinked. “Wait,” she said, turning to face Calder. “If you've figured out a way to heal shredded souls, then you've figured out a way to access the very soul itself, haven't you?” she asked.
Calder shrugged. “Well, naturally, yes.” He frowned. “Why, do you want me to heal his soul? Do you think that will solve the problems? I imagine we'll just end up right back in the same place decades from now—or in a worse one.”
Frida paused for a long moment, thinking about it. What would it be like, if they were able to go back to who they had once been—those carefree and innocent children dancing on a midsummer's night? She could just remember how he had brought flowers to her one evening and taken her on a picnic down by the lake. She could remember his smile, his flirtatious way of brushing back her hair. She could remember the way he had kissed her—that first kiss, so shy and sweet, before they really knew each other too well.
Maybe if she loved him more, if she was there for him. If she made sure he knew that she was there for him. If they lived somewhere else, somewhere Brynarr could work with his hands building ships, something that he'd always been good at. If they could–
But she could remember the lifeless look in his eyes when he had killed Davayn, his best friend, over some petty disagreement. There had been thousands of deaths at his hands or at the hands of those following his orders. There had been flames and there had been plundering.
No, there was no going back.
“You can't heal him,” Frida said, shaking her head. “But what about the reverse?”
Calder stared at her for a long moment, his brow furrowed. “Are you asking me whether it's possible to shred a man's soul entirely using our own magic?” he asked. “Even if it is possible, are you sure that Brynarr deserves such a fate?”
She could remember the tender way Brynarr had held her after their first night having sex. She could remember the pale blue of his eyes when he had first told her that he loved her. She could remember his earnest curiosity, his thirst to learn everything that he could about the world.
“He deserves it,” she said, closing her eyes against the tears that threatened to fall. The man that she remembered in all of those sweet moments didn't exist anymore—and maybe he never had. Maybe he had only ever seen her as a pawn in his game. But she liked to think that once, he had loved her. That maybe in some alternate universe, he loved her still—and they had a beautiful home and beautiful children who were learning magic in the warmly-lit study.
“He deserves it,” she repeated, her voice barely a whisper.
Daegal bent down and pulled her into his arms—and she hadn't even heard him cross the room to reach her. “It's all right,” he murmured into her hair. “It's all right if you need to cry—or scream, or whatever else. You're all right.”
Frida sobbed, burying her face against the man's shirt. Her tears didn't last long, though—all she had to do was think about those last few days that she had known the man. He was nothing like he used to be, and there was no reason for her to feel remorse over this.
After a few calming breaths, she managed to pull away from Daegal, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “What I don't understand is why he bothered teaching me to use my magic again,” she said, shaking her head. “It just doesn't make sense to me. Why invest that in me, when he could have been stealing my magic all along?”
“To make your magic stronger, of course,” Calder said, as though that were self-explanatory.
Frida frowned at him, though. “You're going to have to explain more than that,” she said slowly. “Whatever theory I once knew about mag
ic, it hasn't all come back to me. I'm not really sure why—I remember everything about Brynarr and so many other things, but magic...”
“Think of your magic like a bear,” Calder said. “A bear that's been hibernating through the winter. Your magic was locked up behind wards for a very long time—sleeping, in a manner of speech. Without sustenance and without life—because none of the magic could get out, but none of the earth's energy could seep in through the wards either.”
“Okay,” Frida said slowly, nodding her head a little. “So when the bear woke up, it was weak—but that still doesn't explain why Brynarr would teach me to use it. Wouldn't I just absorb magic from the world around me anyway?”
“Not exactly,” Calder said. “Or rather, you would still be absorbing magic from the world around you, but not at the same rate as if you were using your magic and then replenishing it.” He frowned and then shook his head. “It's difficult to explain to you, and we don't have time for me to give you an entire course in magical theory right now. Perhaps some of it will come back to you with time, or perhaps at a later time we can delve into it all more thoroughly. But for now, rest assured that there was a very valid reason for him to want to teach you to use your magic before he stole it from you.”
Frida nodded, her lips twisting a little. “He had this whole thing planned out the whole time,” she said quietly.
Daegal nodded grimly. “Well, he's had plenty of time to plan, remember.”
“It might be possible to shred a man's soul using one's own magic,” Calder mused finally. “But the trouble is that there would be no way to test that theory ahead of time. No one would want to volunteer as a test subject to have their soul shredded. It's too risky.”
“I volunteer,” Frida said, her voice firm. “You can test out that theory on me to your heart's content. And then we will use it on Brynarr, shredding his soul until the void swallows his very identity and essence of being.”
“No,” Daegal said, shaking his head. “There's a problem with that plan: when the time actually comes to implement it on Brynarr—assuming that we can figure out some way to make it work—you're going to be the one shredding his soul.” He held up a hand, forestalling protests. “I don't like it. I don't want you anywhere near the man. But you're the only person alive whose magic outstrips his. And what's more, it will be easy for you to get close enough to him that you can actually implement the spell. If anything goes wrong during the testing, you can't be compromised.”
Calder was frowning, but he nodded. “That is likely true,” he agreed. “On both counts. Although it will likely be difficult for you to... put aside your emotions and–”
“Don't underestimate her,” Daegal interrupted, squeezing Frida's shoulder. “I believe she will be able to do this. After all, no one has more cause to hate who Brynarr has become than she does. No one has more reason to want to see him stopped than someone who claims to know him better than she knows herself.”
Frida blushed a little and ducked her head. “I think I can do it,” she said. “But then who will we test the spell on? No one else is likely to volunteer for that—no one else is crazy enough.”
“You can test the spell on me,” Daegal said firmly, looking at Calder. “You can test the spell on me. If anything happens, I'm expendable.”
“Except that you're a dragon and you can certainly help out our side,” Frida snapped, even though that wasn't what her real protest was. The real sticking point for her was that she couldn't bear to see Daegal get hurt, especially not on her account. She bit her lower lip, not sure that she should voice that given everything that had happened in the past.
She had thought she had feelings for Daegal, once. But she had run off and left him. And since then, she had done everything she had done with Brynarr. Daegal would never look at her the same way if he knew about that night in their camp…
“As much as I hate to admit it, I do think that you're the best choice for this,” Calder said to Daegal, pointedly not looking at Frida. “You have a tough soul—it's not as likely that something will go wrong with yours. And–”
“I know all the reasons,” Daegal interrupted. He shook his head. “We don't have time to waste on reasoning. We need to get to work.”
Frida wanted to applaud him for that, but she was too busy thinking about what it would mean to her if she lost him over this. She stood abruptly. “I'm still not fully recovered,” she said, “and I think I'll go lie down. You know where to find me if you need me.”
She made a hasty retreat, and although she would have preferred to have made it all the way back to her current chambers before her tears started falling, she was at least proud to have made it out into the corridor first so that Daegal and Calder couldn't see the emotions spilling across her face.
Chapter 20
Frida paced frustratedly around her chambers, wishing there was something that she could do. It had been three days now since her conversation with Calder and Daegal, and although she knew that the two of them were hard at work—or at least, working as hard as they could given that every attempt to use magic was exhausting—there was nothing that she could do to help them.
She had tried to help out around the caverns as well, but the other sorcerers seemed to have a deep sense of mistrust for her—which she supposed was pretty understandable given her history with Brynarr and their history with the first war—and no one wanted to let her help out. There was nothing for her to do with her hands, though. And she was going absolutely crazy not being able to make progress on anything when she knew that Brynarr was out there somewhere, that there could be people dying by the dozens every day that they delayed.
Suddenly, the door to her chambers flew open, and a round-faced young man burst in. She started to scold him for not knocking until she noticed the disheveled state that he was in. “What is it?” she asked. “What's happened?” She could only hope that Brynarr hadn't attacked, that there weren't more casualties.
“It's Calder and Daegal,” the boy gasped. “They're in Daegal's office, and… Well, you should just come,” he said.
Frida paled, expecting the worst, and ran past the boy, darting down the narrow corridors that led to Daegal's office. When she burst inside, there were two healers there, kneeling on the floor next to Calder's body, which looked lifeless. Daegal was looking chalk-white with fear, standing a little off to the side. When Frida came in, he shook his head, trying to usher her out. “You shouldn't be here,” he said. “I don't know who fetched you, but–”
“Wait,” Frida said. “What happened? Is Calder okay?”
“Apparently when you try to shred someone else's soul, the magic backfires and shreds your own soul,” Daegal said. “He finally figured out how to do it and–”
Frida pulled away from his grip, stumbling across the floor and falling to her knees by Calder's side. Sure enough, his body was nearly cold already—but he wasn't quite dead yet. She didn't know how she could tell—it wasn't as though she could see his energy, there in the caves... except that when she looked hard, she almost could see it, floating there around his body.
Without thinking, she placed her hands on his chest and gave a push with her power, trying to remember how it had felt when Brynarr had been trying to teach her magic and had used her body as a vessel. It was a similar sort of thing, she reasoned—use Calder's body as a vessel. Give it some life back and perhaps his soul would be all right—or would at least be salvageable.
She gave one more push with her magic, beginning to feel a bit woozy herself. Daegal's hand came to rest on her shoulder. “That's enough,” he said, and she was sure she wasn't imagining the awe in his voice.
Frida reeled back, stumbling to her feet just as Calder's eyes blinked open and locked on hers. He was giving her a strange look, one that she couldn't decipher—but when the world suddenly tilted on its axis, she realized she didn't have the time to even try to decipher it. She swayed a little, glad that Daegal was there to catch her and guide her to a
seat.
“Frida,” Daegal said, his voice authoritative and his grip tight on her chin. “Frida, I need you to look at me.”
Frida finally managed to focus her eyes on his, blinking a little. “Whoa,” she said. “I haven't done magic like that in ages.”
Her voice sounded strange to her ears—lilting in a way that she only vaguely remembered. She looked down at her hands and realized that the small freckle on the back of her left hand was gone. And what's more…
She blinked and tugged a lock of her hair out of its coif, pulling it forwards. It was a soft, white-blonde color, and her skin was a milky pale. It seemed that somehow, in the middle of this, she had returned to being Eir, rather than Frida.
“Frida, look at me,” Daegal said.
“Eir,” she corrected, looking up at him and managing to smile a little in spite of it all. “My name is Eir. Frida has moved on to the other side—given her life for the sake of this. For Calder.”
Everyone in the room stared at her—long enough that she grew uncomfortable, but she wasn't sure what to do. Suddenly, she realized what the necessary modification of the plan would be.
“I need to convince Brynarr that he needs to shred my soul into nothing,” she said. “And when he tries to do so, it will shred his soul instead. It's such a perfect plan.”
“How are you going to convince him to shred your soul?” Daegal asked. “He needs your blood still, for his magic.”
Eir paused, staring down at her hands for a moment, twisting her fingers together. “Once upon a time, I was married to Brynarr,” she told the room at large. “We're bonded to one another. As soulmates. It's why it was so easy for him to find me there in Daelfjord. It's why I knew in the back of my head that he was trouble even before I really knew who he was—before my memories were restored to me.” She paused. “All I need to do is to convince him that if we remain soulmates, he'll never be able to take enough of my magic.”
Seduction of the Bear (Bear Kamp Book 1) Page 23