Chapter 13 #2
There was still too much she wanted to know. Too much she wanted to do, such as returning to the university and throwing this otherworldly experience right in the committee’s faces. And to do that?
She had to survive. Escape. Outwit both the guardian and the curse.
But first, she had to make one thing very clear.
“Threats won’t work on me,” she said, lifting her chin defiantly.
“I know you will not force me, no matter how much you might bluster. Whether that’s because your king won’t let you or the curse won’t accept an unwilling sacrifice, I don’t really care.
The important thing is, you have gambled on my cooperation and lost. So what now? ”
For a moment, she could almost see the conflict happening beneath his skin. Anger warring with something that looked oddly like relief.
“I don’t know,” Xaviel said at length. “I suppose we will remain in this cavern until we die. Or until the volcano erupts, at least. You will die first, of course—a long and painful journey through the agonies of hunger and thirst—but at least you will be spared witnessing the tragic death of half the living creatures in Dunmaren.”
Oh, so now he was going to use guilt?
“Nice try,” she muttered. “But I have a mother who’s been attempting to get me married for the last six years, lest I bring eternal shame upon the family, cause my younger cousins to fall into penury or wanton singleness, and deny her the right to hold her head up in front of her peers.
You cannot possibly guilt me into anything. ”
“The marriages of your cousins seem a slightly less pressing concern than the deaths of thousands,” Xaviel retorted bitterly.
“Look, you can say that all you want,” Ryn replied, “but as I’ve tried to tell you, this is not a volcano. It can’t possibly erupt. Not naturally, anyway.”
“Then what did my king confront here, all those centuries ago?” he returned heatedly. “And why did he expend his magic and his life to contain it, if it was no threat to his people?”
“I never said it wasn’t a threat,” Ryn snapped. “Only that it wasn’t a volcano. What if he encountered some form of dragon, or other fiery beast that he could not defeat?”
“Then where is the evidence of that?” Xaviel demanded. “I was here, remember? I have visited this place many times over the centuries, and there were never any bones or other signs of a living thing. Neither did my king bear any scars, nor other signs of battle.”
“All right then, not an animal,” she agreed thoughtfully.
It seemed as if being in this place had granted him a temporary return of at least some of his memories.
Perhaps if she questioned him more about that day, he might be able to give her more clues.
“But if I am correct and you are under a geas, that had to come from somewhere. It is possible for them to form from magical backlash, but more usually they are placed deliberately. Might your king have confronted an enchanter of some kind? Someone who could have left him with memories of a volcano to prevent him from pursuing vengeance?”
Her companion at least appeared to consider her question seriously. “This land was empty and unclaimed when we arrived. And even had it not been, I cannot imagine who or what might rival my king in power.”
“Perhaps whoever drove you out of your homeland in the first place?” Ryn murmured under her breath, but not quite quietly enough.
“No,” Xaviel said firmly, his eyes flashing with a deep ruby glow. “This does not bear the taint of their magic. I would know. My king would know.”
All right then. What other possibilities might her long study of myth and folklore provide? “When you came here, did you perhaps encounter any soft, helpless creature who needed your aid? Could have been a person or an animal.”
A startled look crossed his features, but only for a moment before that ruby glare returned. “What would that have to do with any curse?”
Goodness, did the man not read?
Wait, no. Of course he didn’t. That was completely unfair.
“In many folk tales across widely separate cultures—including night elves—there are instances of powerful curses that depended on failure to aid the helpless or come to the rescue of those in need,” she explained patiently.
One of Xaviel’s silver eyebrows rose, and his lips curled slightly in amused mockery. “And you deride me for believing in a volcano?”
Insufferable brat. Now that she thought about it, she could easily picture him falling victim to such a curse.
And yet… that wasn’t exactly fair either.
After all, she’d been the very picture of soft and easy prey, and he’d helped her.
Saved her. With an ulterior motive, true, but a few of those moments had not been entirely necessary to convince her to follow him.
Nor would he have bothered with securing the agreement of the king’s brides without some sort of honor or compassion.
He was, as she’d seen, powerful and intimidating enough to simply force them into it if he chose.
Perhaps she would do better to question the king himself. He’d told her that his memory was strangely blank, but perhaps if she asked him for different answers.
“King, uh… Keldreth? Can you hear me?”
Yes, the voice in her head replied, carrying a hint of wry humor. At least I can for now.
“Look, I’m very sorry, but I cannot be one of your brides. But I would very much like to help you find a way to break this curse, if you would let me.”
She felt a bit silly talking to empty air, and even sillier when Xaviel rolled his eyes and folded his arms.
I fear that I know of no way to break it other than accepting what I have come to believe is true. That you are, in fact, the fated one. The bride we have been waiting for—the one who is destined to end this enchantment and with it our curse.
“I’m sorry,” she repeated, “but I won’t risk my life on that supposition, even for the promise of a thousand years.”
But I know that you are different. While I do not know exactly what will occur when this curse is broken, I believe that you will not vanish like the others.
That whole vanishing bit was strangely vague. Where could they possibly go?
“You don’t sound very certain,” Ryn noted.
“At least not certain enough to justify the risk. And even if you’re right, I cannot imagine we have very much in common.
I am only a scholar who cares for very little outside of books, and you are a powerful immortal with unfathomable magic, accustomed to leading armies and ruling kingdoms. No offense, but I can’t picture that being much of a formula for happiness. ”
“We’re just a story to her,” Xaviel said flatly. “And she doesn’t believe the threat is real, so you won’t persuade her by pleading for the night elf settlements that would be destroyed.”
All right, so she did sound a bit insufferable by those terms. “It isn’t that I don’t believe you remember something very like a volcano,” she hastened to add.
“Simply that our research and our understanding of the origin of these lands suggest that the Yllian Mountains were not formed by volcanic activity.”
“And your scholars are somehow experts on mountains they are too terrified to visit?”
“My father at least came here in person,” she protested. “And he was not just some fool who imagined himself an adventurer. He travelled and read extensively on the subject of geology. He was looking for evidence, and he could not find it.”
And yet, even if your father was right—even if my memories have been thus corrupted—I do not know any other way.
“Perhaps,” Ryn suggested, “the mere fact that you are under this curse makes it too difficult to see any other way out.”
“We have had centuries,” Xaviel all but snarled at her. “Do you think we have not looked? Do you think we have not tried?”
Of course she didn’t think that.
“I’m certain you’ve tried everything you could think of,” she said.
“And you’re right, it would be presumptuous of me to come here and suggest that I know better than you without bothering to listen to your story.
But why not consider that a fresh perspective on that story might be exactly what you need?
I have no prejudices, no preconceived ideas, no memories to convince me of what can or cannot be done. ”
And also, she was a woman who wanted to be a scholar.
She’d spent half her life battling prejudice, antipathy, and misunderstandings.
They’d labeled her, reviled her, underestimated her, and filled her path with roadblock after roadblock.
If there was one thing she was an expert in, it was finding another way.
“Fine.” Xaviel threw up his hands. “Do as you will. But do not blame me when you throw yourself against these walls and this cursed enchantment over and over again and come away bruised. There is no escaping it, no bargaining with it, and no pretending it does not exist. It has ensnared you as surely as it has us, and eventually you will come to accept that, fated or no.”
Truly, it was little wonder that he’d lost hope, and Ryn felt a stab of both sorrow and pity, much as she might have felt for a dragon held captive against its will—unable to fly or feel the sun on its face.
Both of these men were accustomed to power.
To decisiveness and responsibility. And now they were at the mercy of an enemy they could not even see to fight.
No wonder Xaviel felt so much anger and helplessness.
“Fate comes in many forms,” she said, gazing around the torch-lit chamber, trying to see it with new eyes.
“If you believe in it. I’m not entirely certain that I do, but I do believe in magic, just as I believe that magic has rules.
There must be balance, there must be a cost, and there must be a way out of every curse. We just have to find it.”
The key here was what had been written on the very walls.
Xaviel had not painted these, nor had Keldreth, which meant that the magic was somehow linked to the memories they depicted.