38. Chosen
Chosen
F elix slipped away from the others on their quiet walk through the Nexus, down the stairs and back to the mages’ camp.
He came upon a ledge that looked out over the mountains and sat down.
He didn’t know how long he sat there, only that the sky changed from golden to orange to blue and his hands had gone stiff from resting on the cold stone.
She found him, of course. He didn’t react when he heard her footsteps approach, and she hesitated only for a split second. Then she joined him on the ledge, close enough that their shoulders brushed, and he felt her warmth in the cool morning air.
He couldn’t look at her. Now that the adrenaline had worn off and the overwhelming rush of emotions had subsided, he couldn’t feel anything but disgust with himself.
She was quiet for a while, leaning against him, looking at the sky. Her presence, warm and alive and here, was comforting and unbearable all at once. Finally, she spoke, her voice small. “Would you really have done it?”
Felix didn’t pretend not to understand. He stared straight ahead and let out a long sigh .
“I don’t know.”
He truly didn’t, and he’d carry the weight of that unknown, of the what if, for the rest of his life. Part of him wished he could just lie to her and tell her no, of course not, he’d been bluffing. But lying to her now was almost as much of an abomination as holding a dagger to her throat had been.
Isolde wrapped both hands around his arm and leaned her head against his shoulder. “It would have been mercy.”
“No,” he said roughly. “It would have been failure. Horrific. I should’ve thought of a way to save you, to get you out of there.
Not… that.” He finally turned to look at her.
Her eyes were tired and red, but there was no anger there, no blame.
It only made things worse. If only she’d yell at him, call him names, tell him to go away forever.
That at least, he’d understand. “I should have protected you,” he whispered.
She reached up and touched the side of his face. “You did.”
He shook his head and stared at his hands. They were quiet for a long moment, until Isolde spoke again.
“If the Wardens of the past had been willing to do what you were…” she said, then trailed off, searching for words. “If they had been willing to make that sacrifice, to choose mercy… maybe we wouldn’t be here now. Maybe there wouldn’t be so many forgotten names on those slabs.”
She was being kind, and he didn’t deserve her kindness. Felix reached out and drew her into a hug. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I don’t know how to even begin making this right.”
Isolde let out a small laugh. “You don’t have to.”
He did though. He did, and he would.
***
Felix started later that same day by dragging Kaeloth unceremoniously into the room he had picked for the occasion. It was sparsely furnished with a simple table and two chairs, and only one entrance. He shoved the mage against the far wall, then closed the door firmly behind them.
Kaeloth stood slumped, looking pale and wretched.
Felix took a deep breath and reminded himself there was a good reason he was doing this. Isolde was confident she had stripped the mage of his magic, but Felix wasn’t about to take any chances and had insisted on talking to Kaeloth alone. It had taken some convincing, but she relented in the end.
“Right,” Felix said, leaning back against the door and crossing his arms, “this is how this is going to go. Isolde has decided to let you live; don’t bloody ask me why. Had it been up to me…”
The mage did not react.
“In exchange for your life,” Felix continued, “you will tell us everything you know about the leytouched, about the Nexus, the Arcaenum. Everything.”
Kaeloth lifted his head, eyes sunken and rimmed with shadows.
“In exchange for my life?” he murmured. “My life is gone. You took everything – she took everything from me.” He raised a trembling hand and stared at it as though he couldn’t remember what it was for.
“Magic was my soul. There’s nothing left of me. Death would be preferable.”
“You planned to chain her, drain her, let her rot for decades,” Felix said, emotionless. “What did you expect? Sympathy?”
“I don’t want sympathy,” Kaeloth snapped. His voice cracked, then dropped to a whisper. “I want nothing.”
“Good,” Felix said. “I do, though. I want you to tell me about the Arcaenum.”
Kaeloth was silent for a long while. Finally, he let out a deep sigh. “Why not. It is nothing to me now,” he said. “The Arcaenum isn’t just a force. It is magic. The source of all of it. A god, if you will. Or a divine force at least.”
He paused, as if waiting to be interrupted, studying Felix’s face for a reaction.
When it didn’t come, he continued. “When the world was young, there was an order here, of leytouched. Arcane Vessels, they called themselves.” He scoffed.
“Vanity they could afford, because they were the only people able to wield magic. But as more magic infused the earth, mages were born. The leytouched did not accept this. They considered themselves chosen.” He scowled.
“They drained the magic from us, from mages, whenever they could, taking their lives as they did. Innocents, children.”
Felix rolled his eyes. “You expect me to believe that?”
Kaeloth shrugged. “Believe what you like, sellsword. I care not.” He sat down heavily.
“Mages multiplied, while leytouched didn’t.
It seems the Arcaenum only sees fit to choose a finite number of them at any time.
Mages fought back. Eventually, their numbers proved stronger.
But they did not foresee that the elimination of leytouched would cause the Arcaenum to become unstable and erratic.
So they devised a way to contain it, by binding the leytouched to it. ”
“And sacrificing them in the process,” Felix said, remembering the memories they had seen in the Nexus, the desperate last stand, the disturbing ritual.
“A handful of lives in exchange for hundreds, if not thousands,” Kaeloth replied dismissively. “For a world where magic can be practised safely. Sacrifice of a few for the good of many. This is the very essence of existence.”
“I take it all this is not common knowledge even within the mage circles,” Felix said, changing the subject. “Just a select few, the Archmage included?”
The mage barked a bitter laugh. “That fossil? No. He would rather stick his head in the sand, or hide behind one of his many mistresses’ skirts, than face the truth.
But other than that, yes. Most mages remain ignorant of their own history.
They are not willing to openly accept what is necessary to maintain stability. ”
“Thought so. What about Arcane Wardens?” Felix asked, trying to make the question seem like an afterthought.
Kaeloth tilted his head at him, his mouth twitching with contempt. “Ah, yes. She would be so arrogant, to look at the stars and put the pieces together. It must be curious,” he said slowly, “to be so oblivious to what you have become. Chosen, indeed.”
Felix kept his stance carefully casual, not wanting the mage to see the discomfort that crept up on him.
Stars? He’d ask her later. Out of habit, he reached for his dagger, just for something to do with his hands.
But of course, it wasn’t there. He hoped the mage didn’t notice.
“Is that a roundabout way of saying you don’t know anything? ”
“Don’t insult me, hireling,” Kaeloth said, scowling.
“I may have lost my magic…” He trailed off again, an agonized look on his face.
Felix waited. Finally, the mage looked up.
“There have been no Arcane Wardens for centuries. The most commonly accepted theory is that they were a… counterpart, of sorts, to the leytouched. Immune to all magic, able to ground them when needed. Bonded to them, sometimes as friends but usually as lovers.” He grinned wolfishly.
“Her wealthy, influential father will be delighted, no doubt, that his only daughter has… bonded in this way. With someone like you.”
Felix clenched his jaw. “Yes, while he would have been simply thrilled at seeing her magically leashed to a rock for the rest of her life, I’m sure. Is that all?”
“Hardly,” Kaeloth scoffed, “but debating the more complex, layered intricacies of history is wasted on someone with limited understanding of the world, such as yourself.”
Felix smiled. “You’re probably right,” he said, then turned to the door.
***
They burned Luella’s remains at dusk.
Leif and Garren found a quiet courtyard with a lone tree growing in the centre, the pavement cracked by its roots. When a mountain eagle landed on the topmost branches and tilted its head at them, they all agreed this was the place.
They’d wrapped her in a shroud, and Leif collected enough firewood for a pyre somewhere.
Felix and Garren built it, working together silently.
Mia and Isolde stood off to the side, hand in hand.
Leif held an unusually subdued Biscuit. His gaze kept jumping from the eagle to the shrouded body, as if he was waiting for some sign.
It was only the five of them. Hawes and his mercenaries had their own rites for the handful of people they had lost, and neither group had been keen on making it a shared experience. Just the five of them suited Felix fine.
Garren said a quiet prayer to the Reaper. All of them were grieving Luella’s death, but Garren was devastated. Felix guessed it was because he hadn’t been there when it happened. Perhaps Garren thought he could have prevented it, could have saved her.
Isolde stepped forward, interrupting Felix’s thoughts.