by T. A. Miles
The process was fascinating to look upon, even against everything else Korsten had been witness to in the last several days. Whatever Laxhymel’s relation to the Wyrr, it was a lovelier manifestation than the Vadryn, or the grotesque sentinel Xelonwyr had created to harass his near enemies.
“I’m returning to Vassenleigh with Merran,” Korsten told the him. “I hope that you will come as well, if for no other reason than to validate my story when I tell it to my superiors.”
Laxhymel looked down at him—he was quite tall—and then at Merran. When his gaze returned to Korsten, he said, “You have no superiors.”
Korsten disagreed, but shied from any argument about anything. There were far more important tasks ahead than worrying over Laxhymel’s sense of pride on the behalf of those he might have been created to protect.
Laxhymel seemed to detect his unspoken response and his expression demonstrated some mild compunction. “I’ll find you,” Laxhymel said finally.
And Korsten had to accept that. He nodded and thanked him. Laxhymel quickly took Korsten’s hand while Korsten was turning away. The guardian held it only a moment, then let go, and Korsten went to Merran, who said nothing, even if he might have had something to say. The Reach was cast, and the four of them, including Erschal and Onyx, abandoned the woods, for the front yards of the Seminary.
They found themselves immediately surrounded by activity, activity which made Korsten instantly anxious. Mages were moving in a similar fashion to the troops in Indhovan during the invasion, but Morenne couldn’t possibly have….
Eisleth met them in the yard. He said nothing, which only further alarmed Korsten.
“What’s happening,” Korsten asked, once they’d passed Onyx and Erschal to an Apprentice. The young man had looked absolutely terrified, but simultaneously thrilled, which meant that something significant and dangerous had transpired in their absence.
Eisleth walked just ahead of Korsten and Merran on the way into the Seminary. The presence of the demons didn’t seem enough to stop Korsten at the Barriers, but they hadn’t been enough to hinder his presence before, when he assumed they were only figments of dream. He wondered why Eisleth seemed not to notice them, or why Ashwin had not mentioned them, but he would save that question, since he had already asked another.
“South Meadows was compromised a day ago,” Eisleth said. The news caused Korsten to delay a step, but Merran caught him and Eisleth continued. “The surviving mages evacuated the scene when it became futile to stay. They were able to Reach back with some few soldiers, who have lately joined our defenses. We expect the enemy to arrive within a day, if not sooner.”
Korsten could scarcely believe it.
“What of Indhovan?” Merran asked.
Eisleth glanced over his shoulder. “The city is holding, for now.”
“Thank the gods,” Korsten murmured.
“And what is your report of the north?” Eisleth asked them both.
“Gutted and derelict,” Merran answered. “Though the Borderlands themselves may yet be more active.”
Nothing more was said for the moment. Korsten and Merran continued after Eisleth until they arrived at the Council Chamber. A discussion was already underway. Korsten stood beside Merran while Eisleth joined those of his rank at the central floor. There were several Mages and Adepts present who normally would not have been. Meetings among the Council tended to only include those who were being spoken to or spoken of, but now even those who had not risen to Adept status were required for assignment, not without of the Seminary, but within it.
Ashwin was actively speaking, giving instruction on how the defense would be coordinated and precisely which spells would be relied upon and which would be avoided. Reach was outright forbidden as its use would potentially weaken the Barriers, and it seemed only fitting that during that notation, the elder’s green eyes should finally locate Korsten.
He felt duly answerable for his recent actions, worse when the meeting ended and Ashwin departed, summoning Merran to accompany him and otherwise not uttering a word to Korsten.
“I imagine that I hurt him quite severely,” Korsten said to Eisleth, who, aside from Korsten was the last to remain in the Council Chamber after the meeting.
“Yes,” Eisleth said, not entirely without mercy. It had always been Eisleth’s way to speak in the tone any conversation seemed to most require. This conversation required direct honesty; Korsten agreed.
“I wish that I had not done it,” Korsten said. “I feel that I acquired nothing of what I hoped to find and in the process I helped to unlock a great danger.”
“I feel that you were uncertain of what it was you were looking for,” Eisleth told him. He walked across the pillared space until he was standing within an arm’s length.
Korsten felt scolded. It was true that he had felt more compelled to go, than equipped even with purpose. It was primarily an instinct, an instinct to satisfy questions that were not fully formed and to otherwise protect, though he would have done the Seminary a better service in that had he not left. Ashwin was right.
Finally, he asked, “Can you not see them, Eisleth?”
“Do you mean the wraiths?”
Korsten had brushed paths with the subject of wraiths, yes, but these were not manifestations of….
Yes, they were.
It may have been that Korsten had done precisely what had been described to him in Morenne, precisely what the Wyrr could do with frightening proficiency. They created physical demons of their emotional demons. He might very well have done that. But again….
“Could that be all they are?” Korsten asked.
Eisleth’s dark gaze travelled over the space surrounding Korsten gradually before returning to him. “I’m no longer certain. What Ashwin described to me and what I believed that I detected seemed to be typical of wraith manifestation. It should, however, have been rectified by Ashwin’s spell, which means that it either wasn’t a typical circumstance, or you form them at a spectacular rate.”
Korsten didn’t recall a spell cast by Ashwin in regards to himself, but he supposed, given the nature of it, he may not have been required to notice it. As to what was typical or not….
“I can’t say with any real certainty,” Korsten admitted. He furthered to give his account of what had happened, and what he had discovered in Morenne. In the process, he discovered that the Wyrr were not a foreign term to those as the Seminary who were old enough. The race had fallen out of common notice well before the start of Edrinor’s war with Morenne. They were reclusive and had been so since retreating to the northern woods after enough loss had been dealt them during wars that had less to do with men. That was how Eisleth put it, and he related to some mythologies, as Ashwin had done, pointing out—as Ashwin had—that the legends held truths, even if all of them are not true.
“Did you know that the Wyrr were responsible for the Vadryn?” Korsten asked.
“We did not,” Eisleth admitted.
“You seem remarkably unsurprised,” Korsten said, allowing a mild note of sarcasm into his voice, simply to alleviate some of the stress.
“Ashwin learned through your experience,” Eisleth said.
Korsten stared. It seemed more than evident, in that case, that his original spell touch had not faded at all. It, in fact, seemed to have extended its reach.
And that was when Eisleth contradicted his thoughts by saying, “He put a casting onto the artifact you carried. It supplied him with a secondary view of your circumstances. It also prevented the piece being carried by anyone else.”
Korsten felt sick over what Ashwin might have witnessed. “Then he knows that it was eventually taken from me.”
“Contact was broken before Ashwin could gain any bearing on what happened to it, or to you.”
In some ways that was a relief, but in others, it made Korsten feel worse. Not k
nowing had not set well with Ashwin in the past. Korsten wondered what to do, about anything that had happened, or anything that he now knew.
“I don’t know what any of this means,” Korsten eventually admitted.
“It means that you are related, by blood and by soul, to demons,” Eisleth told him, speaking Korsten’s own words back to him uncannily. “Adrea was not. She was murdered by the wretched children she would adopt with a false and dangerous lure.”
“Why would the Song talent even exist, so related to demons?”
“It evolved out of necessity, I imagine,” was Eisleth’s pragmatic response. “The Seminary exists to combat the Vadryn. The system developed to coordinate with and counteract the traits and the needs of demons. By your accounts, the Vadryn are the children of the Wyrr. Song was evidently a method for control that developed in response to the spiritual and emotional manipulation that spawned the demons. It was a talent that required a suitable home, Korsten. A suitable inheritor.”
Though it made sense, Korsten could not be comforted by Eisleth’s reason. It seemed to suggest that he had a responsibility and a duty to embrace this aspect of himself that so horrified him. Perhaps he had always known that, from the beginnings of Allurance.
“Gods … let me shake this mantle.”
“There are no gods,” Eisleth told him. “There are powers in this world, and you’re one of them.”
Eisleth’s comment reminded Korsten greatly of Merran. “We all are,” he said.
The Mage-Superior allowed that with a lifting of his shoulders that seemed to suggest that Korsten may not have been entirely correct, but that he also wasn’t wrong. “Nature is a collective of spirits. Spirits of the sea, of the forest, of the sky. Spirits of the earth and fire, of shadow and of light. The soul is what commands magic and in a bodied existence, blood is what channels it. Blood is the energy current of a physical body, of a human body. It is contained and potent. It’s a living force. Some understand it better than others. Some remain innocent of its power while still others are humbled by it.”
“Some are afraid,” Korsten said quietly, thinking of the Wyrr, and of how powerful they must have been as a living race … and how much it must have terrified the men around them. Enough that they eventually attacked. Korsten was too tired to get his mind around how that related to their current war between Morenne and Edrinor, but he knew that it was related. It was all connected. Fear and greed were the driving forces. Fear of the power of blood and greed over harnessing that power. It had to stop.
Merran arrived in the door to the Council chamber just then. Korsten looked to him, and looked past him for Ashwin, but his mentor was not present. Merran appeared upset. Korsten wondered what they had talked about.
“The Rottherlens are impotent in regards to magic. They understand and are aware of it, but they cannot wield it. Their understanding renders them disposed to tolerance. Their inability maintains their innocence.”
The words, spoken centuries ago, were not necessarily the words Ashwin expected to have return to him on the eve of what may have been their last defense against the Vadryn. That discussion—that debate—had been one of the few dividers among the Superiors, between those who still placed value upon the Ascendant now, and those who would rather maintain their memory. At that time, Ashwin had been hoping to awaken a strength in the Rottherlens, based entirely upon theory. It had been his response to Jeselle’s Foresight, her vision of an Edrinor without a throne and without the family who had maintained it. Even through disaster, the Rottherlens had maintained presence and been an essential force in guiding people through their unconscious guidance of magic. It required demons to displace them.
He caressed the flowers in front of him while he came to a momentary pause in the garden, watching Nera come to rest on his wrist. The dragonfly hovered beneath the waning light of day, her wings absorbing the deep reds and oranges and casting them in prismatic patterns onto the lilies.
“They have to be awakened. It’s long since passed time for Emergence.”
“They could potentially neutralize all of us.”
“Let them.”
That conversation, put to rest so long ago, had led to another of Ashwin’s conspiracies with his twin. That conspiracy had also managed to deliver more pain than was intended, but he understood that knowing was among the greater burdens to bear.
He stepped back from the lilies, and followed the path across the semi-enclosed areas to the outer rim. Standing near the wall, he looked across the horizon. The fields were clear for now, beneath the blushing glow of sunset. He envisioned their enemy coming, as he had seen them come once before. They had had as much warning then.
“You told him,” came the voice of his twin, not quite accusingly. They both knew the time for Merran’s ignorance had come to an end. Maintaining that ignorance might have protected him for a time, but it had also harmed others.
Ashwin looked over his shoulder at Eisleth. “I did.”
“How does it feel to have switched roles with him?”
His brother was again using a caustic tone to defend against being hurt himself. Ashwin knew that he did so often. “It is a tremendous relief,” he said to Eisleth. “Perhaps more of one, had Merran accepted the truth with greater ease.”
“Remember that he also has been trying to accept Korsten’s truth,” Eisleth pointed out. “As you have.”
“I suspected Korsten’s truth when I saw the artifact from his mother. I knew also that it would be wrong … and primarily selfish to stop him with force. I’ve never felt as close to our enemy as I did the moment I cast a Neutralizing spell against him.”
Eisleth watched him in silence. It was the silence Eisleth always allowed him when he had come to an admission of guilt and acceptance of the consequences that accompanied.
“I was also reminded that my sense of protection required of me to persist with a lie that may have ultimately led to Adrea’s death,” Ashwin continued. When the words were finally spoken, they felt oddly less true, but no less painful as it remained a possibility.
“We know that Song destroyed her,” Eisleth told him, and by his tone he expected it to be final. On the chance that Ashwin might resist leaving it final, he added, “And Song hasn’t destroyed Korsten. He may be the first, best candidate to master it. To master it completely. Song passed itself along until it found Korsten. We both understand that….”
“That Adrea had to die,” Ashwin said. He looked to the horizon again, closing his eyes against the tears. He did understand that. While he would have loved her as long as she had lived among them, had she not come to her end prematurely, Korsten might not have come to them at all. He might have gone to the Vadryn. It was a tremendous risk allowing him the opportunity to discover his heritage, but Merran had succeeded in his part. Merran and Korsten had succeeded together.
Which brought Ashwin to another topic that had evaded closure for far too long. “I recall what Demartas did. I recall him well, better than I recall Auslen … or Delannen, another of my children whose name has finally returned to me.”
Eisleth waited. Ashwin suspected that he knew what he was about to hear, because he had been waiting for it since a portion of Ashwin’s distant memory first disappeared. It had been locked away since the siege one hundred years ago, when their cousin had appeared, not for the first time, in the form of a beast.
“Demartas was the beast that led the first siege, the beast whom Ecland assisted, and who worked to destroy Korsten. The beast who I have tried more than once to banish from this world.” Ashwin drew in a long breath and let it out quietly, raising his hand to receive Nera when she hovered in his view. “Korsten’s exploration north and his contact with Xelonwyr has brought me to realize that Masters of the Vadryn are not merely grown spirits … they’re a merger of a spirit, and a man, an amalgamation of strong, willing human souls and demonic spirits, accumul
ated over time, retaining aspects of the consciousness and personality of each new addition. It’s why they can survive long after separation from their host and why they can so dramatically affect the state of their host. It was perhaps their method of breaking from their creators, to become something new and independent. Demartas was the beginning of the beast we now know as Renmyr Camirey. He was the first to turn against the Wyrr, and against humanity. Xelonwyr would see this world to a new ending, and a new beginning. Demartas would attempt to hold the world in the throes of that end indefinitely.”
Eisleth’s silence continued.
Ashwin looked back at his brother. “Demartas is coming.”
“You’re not going to tell me what the two of you discussed, are you?” Korsten made the accusation while walking with Merran to the wall they’d been assigned to for the pending defense. It would be their task to help reinforce the Barriers and to protect Vassenleigh’s citizens.
“It’s not important just now,” Merran said, which was an improvement from avoiding the topic at all by asking questions to do with Korsten’s own conversation with Eisleth. Since he already had been aware of much of it, Merran quickly ran out of evading questions.
“It’s important,” Korsten contradicted. “But one or both of you have decided it’s better if I’m not aware of it.”
“It was my decision,” Merran admitted.
Korsten felt relieved that it wasn’t Ashwin’s. At this hour, he would take that to mean that his mentor’s trust in him hadn’t completely departed. He wished that he had been able to speak with Ashwin yet … that he might deliver an apology and tell him how much he dearly loved him. In the moment he thought that, he felt suddenly assured that Ashwin knew that. And perhaps, by their lingering spell touch, he did.
They traversed the stair from the main gates of Vassenleigh’s outermost reaches, leading up to the wall. Any who lived outside of the walls had been brought to the city’s interior long before Korsten and Merran had arrived. There were several other Mages and Mage-Adepts present. Along with reinforcement, their objective was to observe and assess the battle that even now men and mages were lining up for in the fields. They would be the second wave of assault, or the first line of defense for the city itself, depending on how events progressed.