37. A song for the ages
A song for the ages
T here was only darkness at first. Darkness and the scolding, hurtful voice. Isolde did nothing, could do nothing. She existed, but only just. Shapes moved around her, moved her along with them, but they didn’t matter. Nothing mattered.
A sharp pain on her neck, and the tiniest fraction of clarity returned.
The warmth of his body against hers. Two touches of cold steel against her skin, a promise of suffering and a promise of mercy.
Isolde decided she didn’t want either. She ignored the voice, pushing it aside.
Felix was here with her, willing to save her from this fate no matter what, and she was not afraid anymore.
Her hand was like lead; moving it up took every last shred of strength she had, but she managed it. Her fingers first closed around his wrist, then on the chain on her neck. His hand joined hers, warm and rough and reassuring, and together they lifted the collar and flung it away.
She surfaced from a deep, murky pond. There was light again, and sound, and air.
Isolde gasped for breath as she pulled her entire consciousness back to the here and now.
The collar clattered on the floor somewhere behind her.
The mages were staring at her as if frozen.
Felix’s hand was on her arm, but she did not turn to him.
There would be time later. There would be an endless amount of time.
The Arcaenum knew what she intended. It pulsed with light, with force, and in the blink of an eye, its power surged through her, roaring in her ears, searing her veins.
How could she ever have thought she was drained?
It wasn’t possible, not here. Here, in this room, she was one with divinity itself.
The floor trembled as Isolde walked forward, the air around her so suffused with power she could taste it.
The mages’ stores of magic were small and pitiful next to hers.
Even Kaeloth was nothing, a flickering candle to her blazing inferno.
It would be easy; barely a thought to rip their threads, to yank them violently out of existence.
But she wouldn’t do that. She wouldn’t take their lives. What she would take was their magic.
She tilted her chin up, flexed her fingers. The mages stumbled back, terror plain on their faces. The magic inside them pulsed in their veins. It called to her, begging her to take it, for it did not belong. So she closed her eyes, took a deep, slow breath, and reached out.
It was a simple, small thing in the end.
The songs and stories would later tell of a grand display, as the all-powerful, vengeful leytouched brought the mages to their knees.
But to Isolde, it was rather like plucking ripe fruit off a tree.
Their magic came to her swiftly, willingly.
As their power was siphoned away, the mages were left gasping, clutching their chests, eyes wide with disbelief.
They each collapsed, as if their minds could not cope with the loss of their magic, but they were alive.
Silence descended. The mercenaries retreated.
The Arcaenum shimmered and pulsed quietly.
There was a clatter of metal on stone somewhere nearby.
Isolde turned. Felix was still standing where she’d left him, hands shaking, chest heaving.
When she went to him, breathing out slowly and wrapping her arms around his waist, she witnessed the first time in his life he completely fell to pieces.
** *
Isolde did not know how long they stood there, until his shoulders stopped shaking and his hold on her was no longer crushing.
She lifted her chin to see the haunted look on his face, the wet rivulets left behind on his cheeks.
She reached up to brush them away, but he caught her hand and pressed his face into her palm, closing his eyes.
“Are you alright?” she asked quietly.
He made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “No.”
“Luella is gone.” A lump rose in her throat as she said it.
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.”
His eyes opened and gazed intently into hers. “It’s not yours either.”
Isolde bit her lip and nodded, but Kaeloth’s words echoed in her mind. How many lives? How many sacrifices?
Footsteps approached them. Felix slowly released her, his hand brushing down her arm, before they turned toward their friends.
Mia reached them first. She gave Felix a gentle shove out of the way and wrapped Isolde in a fierce embrace.
“You were brilliant,” she whispered in her ear.
“I’ll never see anything like this again in my lifetime.
You’ve given the world a story, a song for the ages. Luella would be so proud.”
She buried her face in Mia’s shoulder and finally let the tears come.
When she regained control of her voice, Leif was next to her. His face was blotchy, but he still managed a crooked half-smile. “So… you didn’t die,” he said in a voice rough with emotion. “And you freed the… that.” He gestured towards the Arcaenum.
Isolde let out a short laugh that immediately turned into a sob. She wiped her face with her sleeve, shaking her head. “Sorry. I can’t –”
Leif pulled her into a quick, one-armed hug. “You don’t have to say anything.” He frowned, glancing between her and Felix. “When we came in, you were… ”
“Don’t,” Felix said thickly. She felt his eyes on her neck, on the small, stinging cut there. Mia squeezed her hand.
Leif looked abashed. “Right. Um, where’s Garren?”
Isolde looked around the room. The four mages were on the floor, out cold.
The Black Bear mercenaries were quietly dealing with their wounded and fallen.
Finally, her eye fell on Garren, kneeling down next to Luella.
She started in his direction, but the mercenary captain, Hawes, and two of his lieutenants intercepted her.
Even though they seemed to have shifted their allegiance, she took an involuntary step back at the sight of them approaching, bumping into Felix.
“Well,” Hawes said, nodding toward the unconscious mages, “you certainly made your point.”
Isolde straightened. “They’re still alive. The same cannot be said for my friend.”
“Or some of my people. No, don’t misunderstand me,” he said, holding his palms up when she opened her mouth to retort. “I do not blame you for any of this. Or your… friends. I meant what I told that mage. All this… This was not what we agreed on.”
Isolde raised her eyebrows. “What did you agree on?”
“To help the mages eliminate or capture a dangerous, out of control individual with unstable magical powers.” Hawes scoffed.
“That was the brief. How they told it, you blasted your way out of Azuill and left a trail of corpses in your wake. Then I met you, back in the Surgelands, and well… It didn’t sit right.
Any of it. But I didn’t have time to discuss it with the other captain before you decided to sneak in here at night, and he’s dead now.
So…” He nodded at her pointedly. “What happens next, Lady Isolde?”
A murmur ran through those assembled. Garren rose and joined them, crossing his arms. Leif looked bewildered.
Even Mia, ever confident, bit her lip and kept silent.
All of them were looking at her. The weight of it was suddenly too heavy to bear, all these eyes full of questions she didn’t yet have answers to.
To her surprise, it was Garren who stepped up.
“Right now,” he said, “nothing happens. You have your dead and wounded to deal with. So do we. I suggest, if my lady agrees, that we all take some time to rest and recuperate. This conversation can wait.” He looked at Isolde. She nodded her approval, overcome by a fierce wave of gratitude.
***
Dawn was breaking in the east as they emerged onto the staircase. Golden light spilled over the ancient stones, illuminating the grand complex, blending with the blue glow of magic that cascaded out of the Nexus, along inscriptions on buildings, on walls and on statues.
Two people in robes stood at the base of the stairs, staring anxiously up at them. One was Caelian, the mage who had escorted them.
Felix stepped in front of Isolde so fast she barely registered it. “What do you want?” he called down, axe drawn. No dagger, she noticed absently.
“We ah… we came to see…” Caelian began, looking worriedly from Felix to the people following behind him. “Forgive me, but what is going on?”
Isolde pressed her lips together to stop herself from bursting into laughter.
There was not much to be laughing about, but the helpless, bewildered look on Caelian’s face was so at odds with everything that had transpired that the absurdity of it almost overtook her.
Instead, though, she swallowed it down, sucked in a deep breath and pushed past Felix down the stairs.
The others fell in hurriedly behind her.
She halted a few steps above the mages and collected herself as imperiously as she could.
“The mage Kaeloth tried to sacrifice me in order to keep the Arcaenum bound and restrained. His plan failed. Instead, the Arcaenum is free,” she said matter-of-factly.
She kept her voice quiet, but it carried through the early morning air effortlessly.
“Kaeloth lives, but magic will serve him no longer.” Caelian and his colleague looked dumbstruck, staring up at her.
And then it hit her, as if the thought fell from the sky straight into her head. She knew without a shred of doubt what came next. What she was meant to do. What she had been meant to do all this time, ever since the Arcaenum singled her out on midsummer night .
“I intend to stay here, to restore the order of leytouched and rebuild the Nexus.” Her voice did not shake; her mind did not waver.
“You and any of your people who remain here are free to go,” she continued.
“I have no wish for more violence and bloodshed. However,” and at this she drew herself up to her full height, magic swirling around her menacingly, “I won’t tolerate any form of aggression toward me or my allies.
The Nexus will be a place of peace, a sanctuary.
A place of learning and of tolerance. If you can respect this, you are most welcome to stay.
I suspect we will need all the help we can get. ”
Her magic sparkled in the dawn light. Nobody spoke.
Finally, Caelian swallowed, darting a glance at Felix. He hesitated, then lowered his head in a little bow.
“I will have to speak to my colleagues…” He grimaced. “But as for myself, I would like to… to contribute. To what you plan to build here. In some capacity.”
At that, a small smile crept onto her face. The tension in the air slowly dissipated as the climbing sun bathed everything in gold.
“Now then,” Isolde said, as the exhaustion finally seeped into her bones in earnest, “if you will excuse us, we are all in desperate need of some sleep.”