Chapter 13 #3
‘I would like to talk to you about the other two stages of the Veil,’ he says.
My muscles stiffen. The thought of stepping into those flames again is enough to cause sweat to bead on the back of my neck.
‘You told me that it was required for people who wanted to lead. But I don’t,’ I say firmly. ‘What I want is to get control of my magic so that I can help my siblings and get back to them.’
‘Siblings? I thought you had just one sister?’
Fuck. ‘Jonas,’ I gasp. ‘My sister’s husband. My brother-in-law. I have known him since childhood, and we survived the Retterheld together. I thought of him as a brother even before he was so by marriage.’
Did I do a good enough job of covering up my lie? I’m not sure, but thankfully we’re nearly at the caves and the music is louder than ever. It echoes off the icy landscape, the tones fading in volume with each iteration, although the pitch remains just as pure.
‘Be careful of your footing here,’ Magnus says as we approach a narrow set of spiral steps that descend into the deep. If there are Rottings down there, then this is a less-than-ideal escape route.
Still no scent of them, Little Raven, Fen assures me.
‘The ice can make the depths deceptive,’ Magnus continues. ‘I am happy to help if you need it.’ As if to clarify what he means, he holds out an arm.
I don’t need to take it. My balance is good – I can scale walls and I followed the Issen guards down the ice steps from the pyrrhic without losing my footing once – but I’m certain the gesture is about more than that, so I take his arm.
‘Thank you.’
The music grows louder still as we descend into the darkness, the melody similar to the one I heard yesterday, but not quite the same. It’s quicker, almost as if it’s meant for dancing. Dancing within a cave? I’d love to see such a sight.
‘I believe this is what you wished to see,’ Magnus says before he steps back, offering me space to view the area ahead unimpeded.
I gasp, and any remaining vestiges of fear instantly vanish as I try to take in the full wonder of what is in front of me.
Pools line the edges of the cave, some shallow enough to wade through, others plunging so deep they seem to reach the centre of the earth.
In the middle of the room, thick furs are scattered, forming a path, and above it all, stalactites drip steadily, each drop striking the water and releasing a clear, resonant note.
‘This is … this is magnificent,’ I breathe. This cave looks nothing like the dank tunnel I saw in my last vision.
‘Yes,’ he says. ‘We call it the vandsang. Water song.’
And it is exactly that.
Music created by water and water alone, the drips falling again and again, creating the most beautiful rhythm.
‘Did someone build this?’ I ask Magnus, momentarily drawing my eyes away. ‘Did the Issen create it?’
‘I wish we could claim such skill,’ he replies, ‘but this is far older than even us. A wondrous place, it is a gift from the Gods. Many who struggle to still their thoughts find clarity here, which brings me to what I wished to show you today.’ He turns slightly towards me.
‘I thought that it would help to work on your meditation practice.’
‘My meditation practice?’ I echo, a corkscrewing sensation building in my gut. ‘I’m not much of a meditator,’ I admit.
A faint smile graces his face.
‘By that, I assume you mean that you have not yet truly tried,’ he says gently.
‘Understandable, as it’s not a way of life for the Morathkians.
But the Issen believe that controlling our thoughts and emotions is instrumental in controlling our magic.
Come.’ He gestures back towards the steps.
‘There is another cave I prefer for meditation. If I stay here, I find my feet start tapping and I’m struck with an overwhelming urge to dance. ’
The image of Magnus dancing is one that even my imagination cannot form.
He huffs a quiet breath that might almost be amusement, then inclines his head for me to follow. It’s the type of gesture my mother would make, and the familiarity is enough to make my chest burn, but I suck down the sensation and pick up my feet.
The second cave is smaller. Quieter. It is also brighter, shafts of light carefully pouring in. And there’s no sign of Rottings.
The air here feels thicker somehow, as though the silence has weight to it. The floor is once again lined with furs, but here they are arranged with intention, forming a loose circle.
Magnus settles onto one with an easy grace that belies his age, folding his legs beneath him. After a moment’s hesitation, I mirror him, though far less elegantly.
‘Meditation is not the absence of thought,’ he begins, his voice low, steady. ‘It is the act of observing it. Of choosing what deserves your attention and what does not.’
‘Right,’ I say, because that sounds like something I should understand.
His gaze flicks to me, assessing. ‘Close your eyes.’
I hesitate, then do as he says. The darkness behind my eyelids is immediate and heavy, and I struggle not to picture Rottings in my mind’s eye.
Though Rottings are not the only terror that awaits me every time I lower my eyelids.
The Myrkr also frequently makes an appearance in my ruminations, but many of the images that haunt me are far more human: Kay releasing a burst of ice in front of the Wrohelm court, condemning her to death, or William’s markings spreading to his face.
Even Benny appears in them, kneeling on the ground, begging for Kyor to spare him, only this time the prince doesn’t show the same restraint that he did in real life.
Closing my eyes is far from a peaceful action for me, but I try. For my sake and my grandfather’s, I try.
‘Breathe in slowly,’ he instructs, ‘through your nose. Fill your lungs fully, then release it just as slowly.’
I take a breath and release it too fast, anxiety riding me.
‘Again,’ he says, not unkindly.
This time, I try to follow his rhythm. Long and slow. In. Hold. Out.
‘Good,’ he murmurs. ‘Now, your thoughts will come – you cannot stop that – but you can choose not to chase them. Not to let them carry you away.’
That sounds … unlikely. My mind has been relentless in its turmoil for as long as I can recall having memories.
Never truly resting, it moves constantly from one problem to the next, one threat to another, always calculating, always preparing for whatever fresh disaster might be waiting around the corner.
Even in stillness, I am braced for the next obstacle to come.
Since our stripping, life has been one battle after another. Holding my father together while he spiralled, even as I resented having to do so. Finding enough food to keep us alive. Trying to secure a future for Kay without forcing her to sell her flesh to survive.
Then came the Retterheld. I truly believed surviving it would finally change everything for us. Instead, I’m still clawing my way forward, fighting for every scrap of ground I gain.
I already know that being royalty is far from an easy solution for us, not when half the Issen people want me to rule and the other half hope for my demise so they can have their chosen successor.
Magnus was right about one thing – the thoughts keep coming, that’s for sure.
I try my hardest to focus on the sound of my breath. I’ve barely begun to exhale when the image of the other cave takes hold. The cave with the vandsang. Visions of the pools appear in my mind only for my thoughts to shift to Magnus.
We are kin.
Kay and the baby are the next images to rise in my mind’s eye, but they don’t stay there alone. They mingle. Twist and tangle with other thoughts. Other ideas. Other reasons I have to be alert. Like William and Kyor. Korvane. All twisting together in one unsalvageable knot.
‘When a thought appears,’ Magnus continues, ‘acknowledge it, then let it pass. Like watching a leaf drift down a river.’
A leaf. Right.
My thoughts feel less like leaves and more like a pack of wolves fighting over a carcass.
‘I’m doing it wrong,’ I mutter.
‘But you are doing it,’ he corrects. ‘Right or wrong does not matter, only that you try.’
I huff out a quiet breath but try again. In. Hold. Out. Hold. In…
For a fleeting moment, there is a stillness within the pattern. Not silence, exactly, but a space between the noise.
And then it’s gone.
My jaw clenches and my eyes flare open, but before I can even try to start again, Magnus speaks.
‘You are closer than you think.’
With my teeth still precariously close to grinding, I narrow my eyes at him. ‘That sounds suspiciously like something you say to make inept people keep trying.’
A smile flickers on his lips. ‘Perhaps.’
It feels wrong to give up and march out when the cave itself is so peaceful and the king has given up his time to help me. The least I can do is give it my all. So I try again.
I exhale, long and slow, and close my eyes once more.
Trust takes time to build.
And apparently, so does a quiet mind.